summary: It follows Y/N, Homelander's biological daughter, who was raised by Vought as Asset 17B. She's 16. She's more powerful than him. She has no idea how to be a person. She just made Homelander bleed on live TV and ran away with The Boys. Now she has to figure out what happens when a weapon tries to be human.
Because years of living underground had trained your body to wake before anyone came through the door. For sixteen years, mornings had meant tests, evaluations, blood draws, interviews, or another doctor asking the same questions in a different way. Even in a luxurious apartment high above the city, your body still expected the sound of heavy boots outside your bedroom. It still expected the sharp click of locks opening. It still expected someone to tell you where to stand and what to do.
Instead, there was silence.
Real silence.
No buzzing fluorescent lights.
No echoing hallways.
No guards shouting through steel doors.
Only the faint sound of traffic far below and sunlight slowly spilling across the hardwood floor.
You sat up and stared at the window.
The curtains had been left open.
The sky was painted with soft shades of pink and gold, something you had only seen in books and on television screens. For several long minutes, you simply watched the sunrise without moving. It was beautiful, but it also felt strange. You couldnât stop wondering how many mornings had passed while you were underground without ever seeing one.
A soft knock interrupted your thoughts.
Before you could answer, the apartment door unlocked.
Three women stepped inside carrying garment bags, makeup cases, and coffee cups. Behind them followed two assistants with tablets already in their hands. They smiled the moment they saw you, as though the cameras had already started recording.
âGood morning, Astra.â
You didnât look away from the window.
âMy name is Y/N.â
One of the women hesitated before forcing another cheerful smile. âRight⌠well, todayâs a busy day.â
You finally turned toward them.
âIs it?â
âThe press wants new photographs, Vought has scheduled interviews, your social media accounts are launching this afternoon, and youâll be filming a promotional video with Homelander before lunch.â
You blinked at her.
âMy⌠social media?â
âOh, yes,â another assistant said brightly. âYou already have over eighteen million followers.â
You stared at her.
âIâve never even owned a phone before.â
The room became awkwardly quiet.
One assistant quietly looked down at her tablet while another pretended to reorganize makeup brushes. Finally, the youngest member of the team spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
âVought created the accounts months ago.â
Of course they had.
They had chosen your name.
Designed your costume.
Written your biography.
Now they had written your life online before youâd ever had the chance to live it.
One assistant carefully handed you a tablet.
The screen displayed your official profile.
âASTRA âŚâ
Hero. Daughter. The future of The Seven.
Millions of likes.
Hundreds of thousands of comments.
Photos from yesterdayâs debut already covered every page.
People called you inspiring.
Brave.
Americaâs sweetheart.
Homelanderâs little star.
You stared at the words until they blurred together.
âThey donât even know me.â
âNo,â the assistant admitted quietly.
âThey know the version Vought introduced.â
You handed the tablet back without another word.
An hour later, you were standing inside one of Vought Towerâs largest photography studios. Massive white backdrops stretched from floor to ceiling while photographers adjusted expensive cameras and lighting equipment. Publicists hurried between crew members, checking schedules and rehearsing interview questions. Everything moved with perfect precision, as though every second had been planned weeks in advance.
When you walked onto the set, every conversation stopped.
Someone smiled.
âThere she is.â
Another stylist stepped forward to smooth your cape before quickly fixing a loose strand of hair.
âPerfect.â
You had begun to hate that word.
It never described how you felt.
Only how you looked.
A voice echoed through the studio.
âHomelanderâs here.â
The room instantly straightened.
Conversations stopped.
Everyone smiled.
Homelander entered exactly as he always didâconfident, polished, looking every bit like the hero the world believed him to be. He greeted producers by name, shook hands with executives, and smiled warmly at every employee who crossed his path. Watching him was almost unsettling. If you didnât know him, you might have believed every word people said about him.
His eyes eventually found yours.
âMorning.â
You nodded once.
âMorning.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then the photographer clapped his hands together.
âLetâs get our family portrait!â
Your stomach sank.
You were positioned beside Homelander while assistants carefully adjusted the distance between the two of you. One producer frowned before stepping closer.
âCan you stand a little closer to your father?â
You stayed where you were.
âThis is close enough.â
The producer laughed nervously.
âWeâre looking for something⌠warmer.â
Homelander glanced toward you before quietly saying, âJust get through it.â
You looked at him.
âThatâs easy for you to say.â
He didnât answer.
The photographer lifted his camera.
âOkay, everyone! Letâs have Homelander put his arm around Astra.â
You immediately told a step back.
âNo.â
Silence spread across the studio.
The photographer lowered his camera.
Homelander sighed almost too quietly to hear.
The producer forced another smile.
âItâs just for the picture.â
âI already said no.â
Several executives exchanged worried glances.
Madelyn, watching from behind the cameras, calmly folded her arms.
âFive minutes,â she said. âEveryone take five.â
Crew members quietly scattered across the room, pretending they hadnât just witnessed the exchange.
Madelyn approached the two of you once everyone was out of earshot.
âYou need to compromise.â
You looked at her.
âIâve compromised my entire life.â
âThis image matters.â
âTo you.â
âIt matters to Vought.â
You smiled without humor.
âExactly.â
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Finally, Homelander looked toward the photographers waiting across the room.
âWeâll do one picture.â
You looked at him.
âBut she decides where I stand.â
Madelyn looked surprised.
âSo long as we finish this quickly,â Homelander continued, âthe audience wonât notice.â
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
You hadnât expected him to meet you halfway.
Not because he cared.
Because he understood appearances better than anyone.
The cameras were called back onto the set.
This time, you stood beside Homelander with enough space between you that you didnât feel trapped. Neither of you smiled much. Neither of you touched the other.
The photographer took dozens of pictures anyway.
From the outside, they looked like the beginning of Americaâs newest superhero family.
Only the two of you knew the truth.
The distance between you couldnât be measured by a camera.
summary: Vought suddenly treats Y/N like a celebrity while still controlling every part of her life, and how Homelander acts around her now that the public knows sheâs his daughter.
The applause followed you long after you stepped off the stage.
The moment the cameras stopped rolling, the smiles disappeared.
A production assistant hurried over and unclipped the microphone from your suit. Another fixed your cape before leading you backstage. Publicists crowded around you, talking over one another as if you werenât even standing there.
âThat was perfect.â
âThe reveal is already trending.â
âThe audience loved the father-daughter moment.â
âWeâre getting incredible numbers.â
You stood silently while they celebrated.
Not one of them asked how you were.
Not one of them asked if you wanted any of this.
To them, you werenât a sixteen-year-old girl.
You were a successful product launch.
Madelyn Stillwell walked toward you with a satisfied smile.
âI knew this would work.â
You looked at her.
âWhat worked?â
She handed a tablet to one of the assistants.
âThe public.â
She nodded toward the screen.
Pictures from the event had already spread across every news outlet. Headlines praised Homelander for finally introducing his daughter to the world. Videos of him standing beside you had millions of views within minutes.
âThey love you,â Madelyn said.
âThey donât know me.â
âThey donât have to.â
Her answer didnât surprise you.
It should have.
But it didnât.
___
You were taken to another room filled with photographers.
The backdrop was a giant Vought logo.
Someone adjusted the lights while another handed you a bottle of water.
âWe just need a few promotional pictures.â
âI donât.â
The photographer smiled politely.
âItâll only take a minute.â
Everyone at Vought always said that.
Only a minute.
Just one more picture.
Just one interview.
Just one event.
You had learned that âjust oneâ never meant one.
It meant forever.
The photographer pointed toward a mark on the floor.
âStand right there.â
You didnât move.
Madelyn stepped beside you.
âY/N.â
You looked at her.
âI know you donât enjoy this.â
âNo.â
âBut today isnât about what you enjoy.â
âIt never is.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then Madelyn sighed.
âPlease.â
It wasnât really a request.
You walked to the mark.
The cameras flashed again.
âSmile.â
You stared directly into the lens.
The photographer lowered his camera.
ââŚMaybe something a little friendlier?â
âI am being friendly.â
___
When the photos were finished, you expected to be taken back to Level Black.
Instead, the elevator carried you higher.
The doors opened onto an apartment.
You stopped walking.
It wasâŚbeautiful.
Large windows overlooked the city.
A living room bigger than your entire underground cell.
Bookshelves.
A kitchen.
A bedroom with real furniture.
Soft blankets.
Plants.
Sunlight poured through the windows.
You hadnât seen this much daylight in years.
Madelyn watched your expression carefully.
âThis will be your residence.â
You looked around slowly.
âSoâŚIâm not going back?â
âNot unless necessary.â
Necessary.
There was another Vought word.
You walked toward one of the windows.
People looked tiny from this high up.
Cars moved through the streets below.
The world kept going while you had spent sixteen years underground.
You rested your hand against the glass.
âYou built me a prettier cage.â
Madelyn didnât answer.
Because you were right.
___
That evening, a knock came at the apartment door.
Before you could answer, it opened.
Homelander walked inside.
Still wearing his suit.
Still smiling.
He looked around the apartment before looking at you.
âSoâŚâ
You waited for him to finish.
âWe make a pretty good team.â
You laughed once.
âWeâve spoken for less than an hour in sixteen years.â
His smile faded just slightly.
âThe public doesnât know that.â
âI do.â
He walked farther into the room.
âThey loved you.â
âThey loved Astra.â
âTheyâll learn to love Y/N too.â
âNo.â
He stopped a few feet away.
âYou donât understand how this works.â
You crossed your arms.
âThen explain it.â
He looked out the window.
âThe public needs hope.â
âThey need lies.â
âThey need symbols.â
You shook your head.
âThey need someone to believe in.â
âYou mean someone to sell.â
His jaw tightened.
âYou really donât make anything easy.â
âI wasnât raised to.â
Silence settled between you.
For the first time, neither of you had cameras watching.
No scripts.
No reporters.
Just the two of you.
Homelander sighed.
âI know we donât haveâŚa normal relationship.â
You glared at him hard.
âWe donât have a relationship.â
His eyes met yours.
âWe can.â
âNo.â
âWhy not?â
âYou donât get to become my father because you had sixteen years to become that..â
His expression hardened.
âIâm trying.â
âYouâre performing.â
The room fell silent.
You could hear what he didnât say.
âSheâs impossible.â
But beneath that thoughtâŚ
Another one.
âI donât know how to do this.â
For just a secondâŚ
He looked less like Americaâs greatest hero.
And more like someone who had no idea how to be a father.
The feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.
His confident smile returned.
âWe have an interview tomorrow morning.â
âI figured.â
âA photoshoot after that.â
âOf course.â
âAnd next week youâll meet the rest of The Seven.â
You stared at him.
âSo this is my life now?â
He nodded.
âYou wanted to see the world.â
You looked around the apartment.
âI wanted freedom.â
Homelander glanced toward the closed door.
Two Vought security guards stood outside.
You could hear their thoughts through the walls.
âDonât let her leave.â
Your shoulders slumped.
âYou gave me a window.â
You looked back at him.
âBut you still locked the door.â
Neither of you spoke.
Because both of you knew it was true.
___
Late that night, you couldnât sleep.
The apartment was quiet.
The city lights stretched for miles outside your window.
For the first time in your life, you could see the stars.
You stood there for nearly an hour.
Just looking at them.
Nobody told you to move.
Nobody ordered another test.
Nobody asked you to lift a car or repeat a script.
It almost felt peaceful.
Then you noticed the tiny red light blinking in the corner of the room.
A camera.
Another one above the front door.
One in the hallway.
One outside your bedroom.
You smiled bitterly.
Different room.
Different view.
Different bed.
Same cage.
You closed the curtains.
At least they couldnât watch you look at the stars.
The lights in your room switched on before anyone knocked. Not that it mattered. The lights never turned off anyway. You had been awake for hours. Sleep didnât come easily anymore.
Not after sixteen years of cold rooms, security cameras, and voices that only existed inside your head.
Today.
After years of hiding you undergroundâŚ
After years of calling you Asset 08BâŚ
They were finally ready to show you to the world.
Not because they cared.
Because they needed you.
Three soft knocks echoed through the room.
The heavy door unlocked. Instead of guards with riflesâŚStylists walked in.
Hairdressers.
Makeup artists.
Public relations managers.
Photographers.
People carrying garment bags and clipboards. The room suddenly felt too small.
âGood morning, Astra.â. You didnât look up.
âI said good morning.â
âMy name isnât Astra.â
The woman forced another smile.
âToday, it is.â
___
They escorted you upstairs. It was strange. Youâd spent most of your life underground. The elevator kept climbing. One floor. Two. Five. Ten. Your ears popped.
When the doors openedâŚ
Warm sunlight poured through giant windows.
You stared in awe.
The sky.
You had never seen it. Not through a screen. Not in a photograph. The real sky.
Blue.
Bright.
Endless.
You almost forgot to breathe. One of the guards gently nudged your shoulder.
âKeep walking.â he says strictly
You looked away.
The moment was over.
___
The dressing room looked nothing like Level Black.
Cream-colored walls.
Soft couches.
Flowers.
Vanity mirrors lined with glowing lights.
Designer clothing hanging neatly against one wall.
Every surface sparkled.
Every detail screamed luxury.
It wasnât made for you.
It was made for the cameras.
Someone pulled out a chair.
âRight here.â
You sat.
Almost instantlyâŚ
Hands surrounded you.
One person brushed your hair.
Another cleaned your face.
Someone measured your shoulders again even though theyâd already done it dozens of times.
Nobody asked permission.
Nobody introduced themselves.
You were just another project.
Another product.
âWeâre keeping her makeup natural.â
âSheâs only sixteen.â
âThe audience has to see innocence.â
âLess contour.â
âMore blush.â
âSoft lip color.â
âDonât make her look intimidating.â
You watched them through the mirror.
Nobody looked at your reflection.
They looked at the image they wanted to create.
Not you.
___
A woman gently lifted your chin.
âYou have beautiful eyes.â
You stayed silent.
âTheyâreâŚsad.â
Another stylist quickly interrupted.
âWeâll fix that.â
Fix it?
You wondered what makeup covered sixteen years of isolation. What foundation erased childhood experiments. What mascara hid nightmares. You wanted to ask. InsteadâŚ
You let them work.
Foundation covered the dark circles beneath your eyes. Concealer softened the exhaustion. They curled your eyelashes. Brushed color across your cheeks. Styled your hair into soft waves that framed your face. By the time they finishedâŚ
You barely recognized yourself.
___
Then the room went quiet.
Two security guards wheeled in a tall glass display case.
InsideâŚ
Your suit.
Everyone smiled proudly.
One woman clasped her hands together.
âItâs beautiful.â
Blue.
Gold.
White.
The exact colors the entire country associated with one person.
Homelander.
Only yours was smaller.
More elegant.
A gold shooting star stretched across your chest.
Golden shoulder pieces.
white cape.
The resemblance wasnât subtle.
It was intentional.
One stylist smiled. âThe public will immediately recognize the family connection.â
Family.
There was that word again.
You hated that word.
You slowly reached toward the suit. The material felt expensive. Almost weightless.
âThis represents hope,â someone whispered.
You looked at them.
âit doesnât..â
They blinked.
âIt represents ownership.â
Nobody answered.
___
After changing⌠you looked at yourself in the mirror. Silence filled the room.
One stylist covered her mouth.
âOh my GodâŚâ
âYou look just like him.â
âYou have his features .â
âYou look incredible.â
You stared at your reflection.
You didnât see Homelander.
You saw a costume.
A mask.
Another lie.
___
The door opened.
Madelyn Stillwell entered.
The room instantly straightened.
Everyone became quieter.
She looked you over from head to toe.
Like she was inspecting expensive merchandise before a sale.
âPerfect.â
You didnât respond.
She stepped closer. âThe focus groups were right.â
Your eyes met hers in the mirror.
âTheyâll love you.â
âI donât care.â
âYou will.â
âNo, i wont.â
Madelyn folded her hands together.
âYouâve waited your whole life for today.â
you stayed quiet.
She smiled.
ââŚyou are no longer Asset 08B.â
Silence.
âYou are Astra.â
You looked directly into the mirror.
âMy name is Y/N.â
Madelynâs smile never disappeared.
âThe public doesnât need to know that.â
___
A member of Voughtâs public relations team entered carrying cue cards.
âFive-minute media briefing.â
Madelyn nodded.
âGo ahead.â
The woman smiled brightly.
âTodayâs announcement is simple.â
She flipped to the first card.
âHomelander will walk onto the stage first.â
Another card.
âHeâll thank America for supporting The Seven.â
Another.
âThen heâll reveal that, for sixteen years, heâs kept a secret to protect someone he loves.â
You stared at her.
She kept reading.
âHeâll say that person is his daughter.â
The room became painfully quiet.
Another card.
âYour entrance begins immediately afterward.â
She smiled.
âThe audience will already be emotional.â
Another card.
âHomelander will introduce you by sayingâŚâ
She read slowly.
âAmerica⌠Iâd like you to meet my daughter. The brightest star in my life⌠Astra.â
You felt your stomach twist.
The woman continued.
âYouâll walk beside him.â
âYouâll smile.â
âYouâll wave.â
âHeâll place his arm around your shoulders.â
âYouâll call himââ
ânopeâ
The room froze.
The woman blinked.
âIâm sorry?â
âIâm not calling him that.â
Madelyn finally spoke.
âYou donât have to say it immediately.â
âIâm never saying it.â
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Madelyn walked closer.
Her voice stayed calm.
âThe entire country believes Homelander is the greatest hero alive.â
You looked at her.
âTheyâre wrong.â
âYou are about to become part of his legacy.â
âiâm not part of his legacy.â
âYou will become Americaâs first superhero father-and-daughter team.â
You laughed.
It was quiet.
Almost empty.
âYou kept me locked underground for sixteen years.â
Nobody spoke.
âYou experimented on me.â
Silence.
âYou erased my name.â
More silence.
âAnd now you expect everyone to believe we had family dinners?â
No one answered.
Because no one could.
___
The announcement echoed through the building.
âThirty seconds.â
Everyone rushed into motion.
Someone fixed your cape.
Someone adjusted your hair.
Another person dabbed powder across your cheeks.
One stylist whisperedâŚ
âYou really are beautiful.â
You looked at her.
âSo was the cage.â
She didnât know what to say.
___
Behind the curtainsâŚ
You could hear everything.
Thousands of people.
Music blasting through the arena.
Fans chanting Homelanderâs name.
Camera shutters.
Children laughing.
News reporters talking over one another.
Then⌠The announcer.
âLadies and gentlemenâŚâ
The crowd erupted.
âPlease welcome the worldâs greatest heroâŚâ
The arena exploded with cheers.
âHOMELANDER!â
You watched from behind the curtain.
Homelander stepped confidently onto the stage.
The applause was deafening.
American flags waved.
People cried.
Children screamed his name.
He smiled that perfect television smile.
The one you knew was fake.
He waved.
Accepted the applause.
Then slowly stepped toward the microphone.
âMy fellow AmericansâŚâ
The crowd instantly became quiet.
âFor yearsâŚâ
He smiled warmly.
âIâve protected this country.â
More applause.
âBut todayâŚâ
He paused dramatically.
âI want to share something Iâve kept secret.â
The audience leaned forward.
âThere has always been one person Iâve protected more than anyone else.â
You heard thousands of thoughts at once.
Who is it?
Is he getting married?
Does he have a family?
Homelander looked toward the curtain.
His eyes found yours.
For a split secondâŚ
His smile disappeared.
Then it returned.
âSixteen years agoâŚâ
âMy life changed forever.â
He held out one hand toward the curtain.
âI became a father.â
The arena fell completely silent.
Thenâ
Gasps.
People covered their mouths.
Reporters shouted questions.
Cameras turned toward the wings of the stage.
Homelander smiled wider.
âTodayâŚâ
âI want the entire worldâŚâ
ââŚto finally meet my daughter.â
Your heart pounded.
The curtain began to move.
A Vought employee whispered behind you,
âGo.â
You didnât move.
Another whisper.
âSmile.â
The music swelled.
The lights found you.
Millions of eyes waited.
Homelander extended his hand toward you.
âCome here, sweetheart.â
You looked at his hand.
Then at the audience.
Then at the cameras.
Then back at him.
you slowly walked up and took his hand.
he pulls you to the middle of the stage.
âi want you guys to meet astra, the newest member of The Seven.â
end of chapter 7
___
hello! make sure to like 𼲠i lowkey hate this chapter but anyways comment down below if you want to be on the taglistâ see yâall next chapter
summary: At age ten, Vought tries to force Y/N to love Homelander through âloyalty conditioning,â but the experiment fails. Six years later, Y/N is forced to pretend to bond with him before joining The Sevenâonly this time, she turns the situation against him and begins making her own plan.
warnings: astra is a super nameâ not an oc, long chapter oof, Child experimentation, emotional conditioning, forced family roles, corporate abuse, isolation, manipulation, psychological coercion, implied threats, references to past character death, and emotional trauma
You were ten years old when Vought decided you needed to love them.
They didnât say it like that, of course.
Vought never used words like love unless there were cameras nearby. They preferred words like trust, loyalty, attachment, and family.
Madelyn Stillwell called it:
Loyalty Conditioning.
___
It had been two years since Dr. Calhoun.
Two years since you learned that you could hurt someone without ever touching them.
After that, Vought moved you deeper underground in deep Isolation.
The new room had no windows, no bed, just a blanket. Nice.
There was no way to see who stood outside, and no way for anyone inside to see you unless they watched through the cameras.
The lights never turned off.
You slept when your body became too tired to stay awake. You woke up when the same white light burned through your eyelids.
The air smelled like bleach and cold metal.
Everything was white. Even the clothes they gave you. Sometimes you wondered if they were trying to erase you. Maybe if they surrounded you with enough white, you would eventually disappear into it.
Then Dr. Virelli returned.
She came with a new team. New guards. New doctors. New people who looked at you like you were a problem they had been assigned to solve.
She didnât call you 08B no more, She called you Astra. The first time she said it, you didnât answer. âAstra,â she repeated. You sat against the wall with your knees pulled to your chest.
She waited
You stayed quiet.
âAstra,â she said again, slower this time. âThat is your name now.â
You looked at her.
âthatâs not my name.â
Her smile didnât move.
âItâs a beautiful supe name.â
âIt isnât mine.â
Dr. Virelli opened her folder.
She wrote something down.
You didnât need to read her mind to know what it said.
âSubject continues to reject assigned identity.â
But you read her thoughts anyway.
You stared at her. âYou think Iâm stupid.â. Her pen stopped. For half a second, her thoughts went quiet.
Then:
She heard that.
You tilted your head. âYou always think too loud. The guards near the door shifted. Dr. Virelli closed the folder.
Then she smiled again.
âToday is the beginning of something new.â
You didnât answer.
âItâs called Phase 5.â
You looked around the room.
âIs that supposed to scare me?â
âNo,â she said. âItâs supposed to help you.â
That was how Vought described everything.
___
Phase 5 was different from the other phases.
There were no needles. No machines. No heavy objects they ordered you to lift until your arms shook. No metal chair with straps. Instead, they gave you things.
The first thing they gave you was a room that wasnât completely white.
The walls were beige. You stared at them for almost an hour. They were still empty. Still cold. Still underground. But they werenât white.
There was a bed in the corner. A real bed. It had a mattress. A pillow. A blue blanket. You stood beside it without touching it. One of the guards watched through the open door.
âYou can use it,â he said.
You looked at him.
âuh..why?â
âBecause itâs yours.â
Nothing had ever been yours.
Not your room. Not your clothes. Not your name. Not even your own body.
You reached to touch the blanket
Your fingers stopped before touching it.
âWhat happens if I donât?â
The guard frowned.
âNothing.â
You looked at him for a long moment. Then you climbed onto the bed. The mattress sank beneath you. It was soft. Too soft. You didnât like it. Soft things were temporary.
You slept on the floor instead.
The next morning, the bed was still there, so was the blanket.
For three days, you waited for someone to take them away.
Nobody did.
On the fourth day, you used the blanket.
___
Then they brought you books. A whole shelf. You ran your fingers over the covers. Some were comic books. Some were childrenâs stories. Every single one was about heroes.
Vought heroâs
There were books about Queen Maeve saving people.
Books about The Deep talking to sea animals.
Books about A-Train winning races.
And there were more books about Homelander than anyone else.
Homelander saving a cat.
Homelander stopping a bank robbery.
Homelander helping children after a storm.
Homelander smiling beside American flags.
Homelander standing with his hands on his hips while people looked up at him like he was something more than human.
Every story ended the same way.
Homelander saved everyone.
Everyone loved Homelander.
And Homelander loved âeveryoneâ.
You read them anyway.
Not because you believed them. Because there was nothing else to do. You noticed the stories never showed him angry. They never showed the way his smile disappeared when nobody was watching.
They never showed what happened when you were six. They never showed the teddy bear. They never showed him looking at you like you were a mistake.
You tore one page out of a book.
The page showed Homelander standing in front of a crowd.
Underneath the picture, it said:
âA hero always protects his family.â
You folded the page into a small square and hid it under your mattress.
___
A week later, they gave you a television. It was mounted high on the wall. There were no buttons. No remote. No way to turn it off. It only played Vought+.
Homelander was always on it.
Sometimes he was giving speeches. Sometimes he was rescuing people. Sometimes he was smiling beside children. He looked different on television.
Softer.
Kinder.
Like the cameras changed him.
___
One afternoon, he appeared on the screen holding a baby. The crowd cheered.
Homelander smiled.
âI would do anything to protect the people of this country,â he said. âTheyâre like family to me.â
You stared at the screen. Then you looked toward the camera in the corner.
âYouâre lying.â. The television kept playing. No one answered. You pointed at Homelander.
âHe doesnât protect family.â
The camera didnât move.
âHe doesnât know how.â. That night, the television stayed on while you slept.
Homelanderâs voice followed you into your dreams.
___
Once a week, they brought in a woman named Elise.
She wasnât a doctor. She wore colorful sweaters. She carried a bag full of puzzles and games.
Her badge said:
âBEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT SPECIALIST.â
Her smile was warm. Too warm.
The first time she entered, she sat across from you.
âMy name is Elise,â she said.
You didnât answer.
âIâm here to help you.â
You looked at the door.
âCan you open it?â
âNo.â
âThen you canât help me.â
Her smile faded for one second. Then it returned. She pulled a box from her bag. Inside were colored pencils. You stared at them. You hadnât seen that many colors in years.
âWould you like to draw?â Elise asked.
You didnât move.
âTheyâre yours.â
You looked at the pencils.
âEverything is mine until I do something wrong.â
Elise went quiet.
Her thoughts were louder than her voice.
âsheâs been conditioned to expect punishment. We need to reward positive behavior..â
You picked up a red pencil.
âYouâre thinking about rewards.â
Her hand tightened around her clipboard. You drew a line across the paper. Then another. Then another.
Elise watched.
âWhat are you drawing?â she asked.
âA room.â
âWhat kind of room?â she asked again
âOne without a door.â you mumbled
She looked down at her notes. You kept drawing. Then you added a small figure in the center. No face. No name.
Just a child surrounded by walls.
⸝
The sessions continued.
Elise asked questions.
âTell me about your father.â
You stayed quiet.
âWhat do you remember about Homelander?â
You stayed quiet.
âDo you think he loves you?â
You stared at her.
âi think you know the answer..â
âI want to hear you say it.â
âNo.â
She played videos.
Homelander at a charity event.
Homelander visiting a childrenâs hospital.
Homelander standing beside Madelyn Stillwell.
Homelander saying:
âFamily is the most important thing in the world.â
Every time he appeared, Elise watched your face. She waited for you to smile. She waited for you to show interest. She waited for you to say something she could write down.
But you gave her nothing.
Then she started offering rewards. âIf you answer my questions, you can have dessert.â
You looked at the small cup on the table.
Chocolate pudding. You hadnât had chocolate before..
âWho keeps you safe?â Elise asked.
You knew the answer they wanted. Vought keeps me safe.
âMy father keeps me safe.*
You looked at the pudding. Then at Elise.
âNo one.â
She wrote something down.
âIf you tell me Homelander loves you, you can have the pudding.â
You pushed the cup away.
âKeep it.â
Her thoughts changed. She understands the reward system. Sheâs choosing resistance. You looked at her.
âYou donât know me.â
âIâm trying to.â
âNo.â
You leaned back in your chair.
âYouâre trying to make me say what they wrote.â
___
Six months into Phase 5, Madelyn Stillwell came to watch.
You knew she was there before the door opened. Her thoughts were calm. Organized. Every thought had a purpose.
âToday we need measurable progress. The board is losing patience.â
Elise sat across from you. Madelyn stood behind her. Two guards waited by the door.
A camera faced you from the corner. The television played silently.
Elise placed a small bowl of ice cream on the table.
âLetâs try again,â she said.
You stared at it.
Chocolate mint, your favorite.
You didnât remember telling anyone that. Maybe they read it in an old report. Maybe they had watched you when you were younger.Maybe they knew everything about you.
Elise smiled.
ây/n, who keeps you safe?â
You looked past her. There was writing on the wall behind her. Small letters. A script. You could see it backward in the reflection of the television.
You read every word.
Vought keeps me safe.
My father keeps me safe.
Homelander loves me.
I am proud to be part of the Vought family.
You looked back at Elise.
âNo one keeps me safe.â
The room became quiet.
Eliseâs smile disappeared.
ây/nââ
âNo one.â
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
You looked up.
You hadnât meant to do it.
You were tired.
You were angry.
You were ten years old, and everyone kept asking you to lie.
Elise leaned forward.
âTry again.â
âNo.â
The lights flickered harder.
You stood up.
âI donât love Vought.â
The television buzzed.
âI donât love him.â
The screen flashed.
âAnd he isnât my dad.â
The television exploded, parts flying everywhere.
Not like a bomb. There was no fire. No giant blast. The screen simply cracked apart as if it could no longer hold the signal running through it. Glass scattered across the floor.
Elise screamed.
The guards rushed forward.
Madelyn didnât move.
She stared at you.
Her thoughts were colder than the room.
âSheâs rejecting the narrative. Sheâs rejecting him. This is worse than the last incident.â
You looked at the broken television.
Homelanderâs face had disappeared.
For the first time in months, the room was silent.
___
They took the bed away that night.
They took the blanket.
They took the books.
They took the colored pencils.
They took the television.
They left the beige walls.
Dr. Virelli stood outside your room and read from her report.
âPhase 5: Loyalty Conditioning has failed.â
You sat on the floor.
âSubject continues to exhibit hostility toward paternal stimuli.â
The door opened. Guards entered. One grabbed your arm. You didnât fight. You already knew what happened next.
âAsset is currently unmarketable.â
You looked back at the beige room.
The bed was gone.
The books were gone.
Everything was gone.
For six months, Vought had tried to make you believe that kindness existed. Then they took it away the moment you refused to obey.
You understood the lesson.
Nothing was free.
Love was a reward.
Family was a script.
And if you didnât say the right words, they would punish you until you did. You went back to the white room. You didnât make anything for a year.
Not a toy.
Not a picture.
Not a single thing.
You kept your hands folded in your lap.
You kept your thoughts quiet.
And you waited.
⸝
Six Years Laterâ
You were sixteen when Vought changed its mind.
Madelyn Stillwell called it:
Phase 7: Familial Integration.
The room was still white. The door was still windowless. The lights still never turned off.
But you had changed.
You were taller.
Stronger.
Quieter.
You had learned how to hide your emotions.
You had learned how to make doctors believe you were calm while your mind searched through every thought in the room.
You had learned that silence made people nervous.
And Vought had a problem.
The Seven was changing.
Translucent was gone.
The public was asking questions.
People wanted hope.
They wanted something new.
They wanted a legacy.
And Vought had spent sixteen years hiding one.
Homelanderâs daughter.
A nurse entered your room in May.
You were sixteen years, two months, and four days old.
You knew because you counted. There was nothing else to measure time with. She placed a folder on the bolted-down table.
âHappy early birthday, y/n.â
you just stared out at her
The nurse sat down.
âYouâve grown.â
You looked at her.
âSo have your lies.â
Her smile stayed in place.
âYouâre still clever.â
âYouâre still pretending you like me.â
âI donât pretend.â
You listened to her thoughts.
Sheâs more hostile than the last evaluation. Keep the conversation controlled.
You looked at the folder.
âWhat do you want?â
She opened it.
Inside were photographs. A blue and gold costume. A Vought tower. A stage.
Cameras.
Crowds.
Then a picture of you.
Older. Edited. Your hair was styled. Your face was smiling. You had never seen that picture before.
âWhat is this?â you asked.
âYour future.â
You looked at her.
âNo.â
âThe board approved your debut.â
Silence filled the room.
âYou will be introduced as the newest member of The Seven.â
You laughed once. It wasnât because anything was funny.
âYou kept me underground for sixteen years.â
âYou were being prepared.â
âYou kept me in a cage.â
âYou were protected.â
âYou punished me for not loving you.â
The nurses smile weakened.
âWe did what was necessary.â
You looked at the picture again. The girl in it looked happy. She looked like she belonged somewhere.
You hated her.
Dr. Virelli entered behind the nurse.
âYour supe name Astra tested well,â she said. âIt performed especially well with suburban families. It means star.â
You looked at her.
âI never seen a star.â
Nobody answered. The nurse closed the folder.
âThere is one issue.â
You already knew.
âThe public needs to believe youâre part of the family.â
You leaned back.
âYou mean his family.â
âYes.â
You stared at the camera. You had been waiting for this. Ever since you were ten. Ever since they tried to make you say you loved him.
The nurse folded her hands.
âHomelander will begin bonding sessions with you.â
âNo.â
âStarting tomorrow.â
âNo.â
âThe public responds positively to father-daughter relationships.â
âNo.â
âIt will increase trust in the brand by forty-three percent.â
You stood.
The chair didnât move.
It was bolted to the floor.
You looked at Madelyn.
âNo.â
The lights flickered. Once. Twice.
The same way they had when you were ten. Some things never changed.
The nurse stood.
âThis isnât a request.â
You stared at her.
âThis is Phase 7.â
âNo.â
âYou will participate.â
âNo.â
âOr you will return to the chair.â
Your expression didnât change.
âPermanently.â
You made the lights flicker again.
âYou see? This is why we need to help you.â
You smiled.
It wasnât a happy smile.
âYouâre scared of me.â
Madelyn didnât answer. But you heard the truth. Yes.
___
Homelander came the next day.
It was the first time he had entered your room since you were six.
He didnât knock. He didnât ask permission.
The door opened, and he walked inside like he owned the building.
Maybe he did. He looked older. Not much. But you noticed.
His smile was the same.
His suit was the same.
His eyes were colder.
He looked around the room.
The white walls.
The drains.
The bolted-down table.
The cameras.
For a moment, his thoughts were quiet.
Then:
âThis is where they kept her..â
You watched him.
âThis is why she hates me.â
His eyes moved toward you. Then another thought followed.
âGood. Hate keeps her predictable.â
He didnât sit.
He stood across from you.
âMadelyn says we need to bond.â
You stayed silent.
âThereâs an interview next week.â
You looked at the camera.
âYouâre going to call me Dad.â
âNo.â
âYouâre going to say I taught you how to be a hero.â
âNo.â
His smile tightened. His thoughts slipped through. I didnât teach her anything.
Then:
âI tried to get rid of her before she could talk.â
You stared at him. He noticed.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âDonât lie to me.â
You tilted your head.
âYou first.â
He stepped closer.
You didnât move.
âIâm trying to help you,â he said.
âYou sound like Vought.â
âI am Vought.â
âI know.â
He looked down at you.
âYouâre going to smile.â
âNo.â
âYouâre going to call me Dad.â
âNo.â
âYouâre going to tell everyone weâre a family.â
âNo.â
His eyes narrowed.
âOr Madelyn puts you back in the chair until you forget your own name.â
The room became silent.
You looked into Homelanderâs eyes.
Then you let him feel it.
Not physically.
Not with your hands.
With your power.
Homelander flinched.
Only slightly. Nobody else would have noticed. You did. His thoughts broke apart. She remembers everything. You watched him. Sheâs not a child anymore. His eyes narrowed. Sheâs a problem. You smiled.
âA problem you canât solve with laser eyes.â
He went still. For the first time, you saw something behind his anger.
Uncertainty.
Maybe fear.
Not much.
But enough.
You said, âIâll do the interview.â
His expression changed.
âYou will?â
âIâll tell them my name is Y/N.â
His smile disappeared.
âIâll tell them Vought kept me underground.â
His eyes hardened.
âIâll tell them I spent years in a room without windows.â
He stepped closer.
âIâll tell them you tried to kill me when I was six.â
His thoughts became one word.
Terminate.
You looked at him.
âGo ahead.â
The lights flicker
âDo it.â
The room shook.
âYou can kill me.â
A crack appeared along the wall.
âBut youâll never get your perfect family.â
Homelander stared at you.
You stepped closer.
âSo hereâs what happens.â
He didnât move.
âYou tell Madelyn the bonding sessions are working.â
His jaw tightened.
âYou tell her I trust you.â
The lights stopped flickering.
âYou tell her weâre becoming a family.â
His thoughts were angry.
Sheâs blackmailing me.
You smiled.
âYou lie for both of us.â
He stared at you.
âThatâs what youâre good at.â
For a long time, neither of you spoke. Then Homelander looked toward the camera. He knew they were watching. He knew Madelyn was waiting for results. Finally, he looked back at you.
âFine.â
You didnât smile.
âYouâll do the interview.â
âIâll do the interview.â
âYouâll follow the script.â
âIâll follow enough of it.â
âYouâll call me Dad.â
You stared at him.
âNo.â
His eyes narrowed.
âYou agreed.â
âI agreed to lie.â
You stepped away.
âI never said Iâd lie well.â Homelander stood silently.
Then he turned toward the door. Before leaving, he looked back.
His thoughts were quiet.
But you heard one thing.
âSheâs going to destroy everything.â
You looked at him.
âMaybe.â you shrugged
The door closed.
___
Madelynâs report arrived that night. You read it through the thoughts of the guard holding it. Initial bonding session successful.
You almost laughed.
Subject 08B displays cautious trust toward Homelander. You sat on the floor. Recommend proceeding with public debut. You leaned your head against the wall. Recommend increased surveillance.
The guard walked away.
The room became quiet.
somehow, you made Homelander lie instead.
You looked toward the camera. You knew someone was watching. You knew they were waiting for you to become the supe Astra.
Their star. Their hero. Their daughter. You closed your eyes.
Iâm not Astra.
You opened them.
Iâm not his.
The lights flickered.
vought had no idea what was coming.
end of chapter 6.
___
long ass chapter, hoped yâall enjoyed it make sure to like and followâsee u next time
summary: After two years of daily testing, y/n finally snaps during a painful test and does something she didnât mean to doâŚ
Warnings: child experimentation, death of an adult in lab, medical trauma, isolation, forced power use, blood/nosebleed mention, implied threat of termination. no graphic description of death.
ËËË âĄ ËËË
I turned eight in Level Black.
No cake. No candles. No one even said âhappy birthday.â
Vought doesnât do birthdays. Vought does milestones.
My milestone was âtwo years since first matter creation event.â
They put it on a slide deck.
The room had a new name by then.
They stopped calling it âthe hurt roomâ after the bear. Too honest, I guess.
Now it was the âlearning lab.â
Same white walls. Same drains in the floor. Same chair with straps they promised were âfor my safety.â
I still bled in it. I just learned to do it quietly.
ŕŞââ´ âĄ
Two years.
Two years since I made something out of nothing and scared everyone in the building.
Two years since Homelander looked at me and thought I need to kill her before she learns how to mean it.
Two years since I looked right back at him and thought Iâm not yours.
He hadnât been back since.
I still felt him sometimes. Two floors up. Or on TV, saving people with that practiced smile.
His thoughts were always the same when he was close: âSheâs getting stronger. Sheâs not mine. Sheâs a problem.â
I agreed with the last part.
ŕŞââ´ âĄ
Level Black had a schedule. Vought loves schedules.
Monday was telekinesis. Theyâd roll in a car from the junkyard and tell me to lift it. Once I got mad and ripped the table out of the concrete. They bolted the next one down.
Tuesday was empathy. That was the worst day. Theyâd sit some intern across from me and make me say their secrets out loud. âHeâs cheating on his wife.â âSheâs pregnant and scared.â âHis mom died last week.â I hated Tuesdays. It felt like stealing from them.
Wednesday was âcreation theory.â Theyâd say âmake somethingâ and stare. I could do small things now. A marble. A paperclip. A flower that looked real but had no smell. Theyâd film it, then watch it turn to static when I stopped thinking about it. They never let me keep anything, i fucking hate.
Thursday was âdurability.â That was Voughtâs word for pain. Theyâd test how much I could take before I cried. I stopped crying at seven. It just made the tests last longer.
Friday was ârest.â
Rest was the chair. Rest was the lights staying on all night so I couldnât sleep. Rest was Dr. Virelli saying âgood work this weekâ like Iâd finished a math test.
ŕŞââ´ âĄ
I stopped saying âno, thank you.â
I stopped talking at all unless they threatened to start over.
Starting over was worse than anything they could do to me. Starting over meant hours. Starting over meant Iâd already failed.
Madelyn Stillwell came once a month.
She never came in the room. She stood behind the glass with her tablet, watching like I was a documentary.
Her file notes were projected on the wall sometimes during evaluations. Iâd read them upside down.
âSubject 08B displays increased emotional suppression. Verbal compliance: 82%. Physical compliance: 100%. Loyalty to Vought: undetermined. Loyalty to Homelander: zero.â
she wasnât wrong
I was eight years, four months, and eleven days old when it broke lose.
It was a Thursday.
Durability day.
i was sitting on the lab table, waiting for whatâs about to come. Then he entered.
Dr. Virelli had the flu. They sent a replacement.
His badge said âDr. Calhoun.â He was younger than Virelli. He had coffee on his breath.
He looked at me and his first thought was Jesus, sheâs just a kid.
His second thought was How bad can it be? Vought pays extra for hazard work.
He didnât bring a shock stick. He brought a tray.
Needles. Monitors. A clipboard.
He said, âHey, 08B. Weâre going to test your pain response today..uhm this helps us understand your limits on how fall you can go..â
I didnât answer.
I didnât have limits. Iâd used them all up years ago.
He said, âI need you to hold still. If you move, we have to start the sequence over.â
He cleaned a spot on my arm. The wipe was cold.
He said, âSmall pinch,â right before he did it.
It wasnât small.
It hurt, and then it burned, and then it felt like my bones were buzzing.
I didnât cry. I didnât flinch. I stared at the wall.
There was a scuff mark on the wall shaped like a star. I counted the points.
Dr. Calhoun said, âInteresting. No flinch response. No elevated heart rate. Letâs increase the stimulus.â
He reached for a second needle.
And I heard his thought, clear as day: âDangerous work, dangerous pay. But itâs just a kid. Whatâs she gonna do?â
He didnât see me.
Not really.
He saw âPhase 4.â He saw a paycheck. He saw a problem Vought would handle if it got out of hand.
He didnât see a person who hadnât been hugged her whole life.
He didnât see a kid who missed a teddy bear she wasnât allowed to remember.
Something in my chest cracked.
Not like a bone. Like ice. Like a dam with too much water behind it.
Two years of white rooms.
Two years of again.
Two years of Iâm not yours with no one to hear it except me.
I didnât plan it.
I didnât think the word kill. I didnât even know I could.
I thought âSTOPâ
I thought âLEAVE ME ALONEâ
I thought âIâM NOT YOURS IâM NOT YOURS IâM NOT YOURSâ and I pushed.
It wasnât like lifting a car. It wasnât like making a flower.
It was like everything Iâd been holding down for two years suddenly got out.
The lights didnât flicker. They exploded.
The glass didnât crack. It blew inward.
Dr. Calhoun went backward. He hit the far wall, blood splattered everywhere.
on the white walls
on you
you just stared in shocked hugging yourself, scared and helpless
ŕŞââ´ âĄ
Then it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that happens after a bomb.
My ears were ringing. My nose was bleeding. I could taste iron.
I was on the floor. I donât remember falling.
I wasnât floating. I wasnât holding anything.
I was just eight, and shaking, and alone.
Then the alarms.
Red lights. Sirens. Boots. Shouting.
Security came in with guns pointed at me. Like I was the threat.
Maybe I was.
âiâm sorryâi didnât mean to.!â you cried, sobbing uncontrollable.
They didnât touch me. They didnât have to.
I couldnât have moved if I wanted to.
I felt something go on my faceâ like a mask, then when i fell asleep.
đ˘đ¸
Dr. Virelli came back the next day.
She had dark circles under her eyes. Her hands were shaking. A worried look on her face.
She stood where Dr. Calhoun had stood. She looked at the dent in the wall. Then she looked at me.
I heard her think âOh god. Sheâs not a potential asset anymore. Sheâs a weapon. And we made her.â
She didnât run a test.
She didnât speak to me.
She sat outside the glass and opened my file. The real one, not the one they put on the wall.
She wrote for a long time.
When she was done, the last line said: âIncident Report 8-11. Subject 08B experienced acute emotional rupture during durability testing. Dr. Calhoun deceased. Cause of death: blunt force trauma secondary to uncontrolled telekinetic event. Trigger: perceived threat + prolonged isolation. Subject immediately returned to catatonic state post-event. Lethality confirmed. Recommendation: Terminate.â
Madelyn came an hour later. She read it. She didnât even blink.
She took a pen and crossed out the last line.
Under it, she wrote: âDenied. Asset value exceeds risk. Increase sedation protocol. Transfer to Level Black Deep Isolation. Begin Phase 5: Loyalty Conditioning.â
I didnât see the file.
I saw the new door they installed that night.
It was thicker than the last one. It didnât have a window. It didnât have a keypad. It just sealed shut.
Level Black Deep Isolation.
I was eight years old.
Iâd killed a man.
I didnât feel powerful. I didnât feel like Homelander.
I felt sick. I felt like Iâd thrown up even though I hadnât.
I lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling and thought Iâm sorry over and over to nobody.
I meant it.
Vought didnât call it murder.
Vought called it âa successful demonstration of defensive capability under extreme stress.â
They edited the security footage. They cut out the part where I was shaking. They cut out the blood.
They put the rest in my training reel.
âAsset 08B: Threat Neutralized. Time to Neutralize: 0.8 seconds.â
I learned I could end a life without touching it.
I learned Vought would never let me forget it, because it made me valuable.
I learned Homelander wasnât the only monster in the building.
The other monsters were the ones who took notes while I cried.
I didnât make another bear.
I didnât make anything for a long time.
I didnât want to know what else I could do by accident.
end of chapter 5
ŕŞââ´ âĄ
oof! she finally fought back, yay!!
should i do a time-skip to whete sheâs now a teen??
yes!
no!
Voting ended onAug 3
comment if u wanna be on the taglist, thanks for reading đ
summary: 3 years of PR with homelander, Vought decides to test y/ns powers and discovers she can create matter , control emotions, and do telekinesis; Homelander realizes sheâs way stronger than him and thinks about killing her.
context: lab testing, mild medical trauma, nosebleeds, vomiting, fainting, manipulation, distress, threats of violence, homelander being a asshole.
ËËË âĄ ËËË
a month later after the PR birthdayâŚ
You were six when Vought decided love was not working.
Madelyn Stillwell wrote in your file: âEmotional attachment to Homelander: FAILED. Proceed with Phase 3: Compliance Through Isolation and Ability Manifestation Testing.â
You did not get to read your file.
You lived it.
They moved you out of Subbasement 4.
The new room was bigger. It was white, and it had drains in the floor, and the walls were padded.
There were no blocks. There were no books. There was no teddy bear.
There was a chair.
The chair had straps.
Dr. Virelli said, âThis is for your safety,â and you were six, so you almost believed her.
âââ
The tests started the next day.
They called it âAbility Manifestation Testing.â
You called it âthe hurt roomâ in your head.
You did not say that out loud.
You had learned that saying things out loud made the tests last longer.
Dr. Virelli would put you in the chair.
She would not use the straps unless you floated.
She said, âWe need to see what else you can do. Your father can fly and punch. You can do more.â
You did not like when she called him your father.
He had not earned that name back.
The first test was for telekinesis.
They put a metal ball on a table across the room.
Dr. Virelli said, âMove it.â
You said, âno...thanks.â
You were six. You still had manners.
Dr. Virelli sighed. She pressed a button.
The floor shocked you.
It was not a big shock. It was a âreminderâ shock, she said.
She said, âMove it, or we turn the dial up.â
You moved it.
You did not touch it. You did not look at it.
You thought go away and the ball went away.
It went through the wall.
It went through three walls.
An alarm went off.
Dr. Virelli wrote something down. Her thought was Stronger than estimated. Stronger than him.
You did not know what him meant.
You found out two weeks later.
The second test was for empathic projection.
They brought in a man in a Vought security uniform.
Dr. Virelli said, âHeâs thinking about his dog. Tell me the dogâs name.â
You did not want to.
The man looked scared.
You said, âHis name is Cooper and heâs sick and the man is sad.â
Dr. Virelli said, âGood. Now make him stop being sad.â
You did not understand.
She said, âChange his feeling. Like you change the ball.â
You did not know you could do that.
You tried.
You thought donât be sad and pushed.
The man stopped crying.
He started smiling.
Then he started laughing.
Then he could not stop laughing.
He laughed until he threw up.
Dr. Virelli wrote Empathic manipulation confirmed. Volatility: high. Lethality: possible.
You threw up too.
You did not like making people feel things they did not feel.
It felt like lying.
Homelander lied.
You did not want to be like Homelander.
The third test was the one that made them call Madelyn.
They put you in a room with nothing in it.
No ball. No man. No chair.
Dr. Virelli said, âMake something.â
You said, âThereâs nothing to make with.â
She said, âUse your mind.â
You did not understand.
You were six.
You closed your eyes because you were tired and you were scared and you wanted the teddy bear homelander gave you.
You thought I wish the bear was here because you missed it.
When you opened your eyes, the bear was there.
It was sitting in the middle of the room.
It was not the real bear. The real bear was still on the floor in your old room.
This bear was blue, and it had the Vought+ logo, and it was real enough to pick up.
It was warm.
It smelled like nothing.
Dr. Virelli dropped her clipboard.
Her thought was She created matter. She didnât move it. She made it.
She ran out of the room.
Madelyn came ten minutes later with Homelander.
It was the first time you had seen him in a year.
You were holding the bear.
It was already starting to fade. The edges were going fuzzy, like TV static.
Homelander looked at the bear, then he looked at you.
He did not say anything.
His thought was âSheâs not like me. Sheâs not even like Soldier Boy. Sheâs something else. Sheâs more..â
His next thought was âI need to kill her before she learns how to mean it. â
You heard that thought.
You were six, and you understood the word kill.
You hugged the fading bear tighter.
You did not float. You did not cry.
You looked right at him and you thought, very clearly, Iâm not yours.
The bear disappeared.
Your hands were empty.
Homelander left without speaking.
Madelyn stayed.
She said, âAsset 08B, do you know what you did?â
You said, âI made a bear because I was sad.â
Madelyn said, âYou made matter from nothing. Do you know what that means?â
You said, âIt means Iâm lonely.â
Madelyn wrote in your file: âSubject exhibits matter creation, advanced telekinesis, and empathic manipulation. Power ceiling unknown. Potential exceeds all current assets, including Homelander. Recommend: Total isolation. Recommend: Termination if loyalty cannot be assured.â
They did not terminate you.
Vought does not throw away weapons that strong.
They moved you deeper.
Subbasement 12.
No windows. No voices. No sky.
Just white rooms and tests and Dr. Virelli saying âagainâ until your nose bled.
You were six.
You learned that you could make things, and move things, and change how people felt.
You learned that Homelander was afraid of you.
You learned that Vought would keep you alive as long as you were useful, and they would kill you the second you were not.
You did not make another bear.
You did not want to give them ideas.
---
wow they tested on her, not surprising since yk. Itâs Vought. maybe sheâll escape or kill someoneâwho knows . chapter four here :) đ
summary: Vought throws y/n a televised âbirthdayâ with Homelander for PR. She thinks todayâs the day sheâll finally see the sky. She learns two things: maybe means never when he says it, and he could have given her the sky but didnât.
ËËË âĄ ËËË
context: y/n is 5 years old, angsty, crying, etc i may not be aware of.
You were five when you learned that daddies on TV lie.
Real daddies do too.
It started because you asked about the sky.
You had been asking about the sky for two years, ever since Homelander said âyouâre getting bigâ and you decided that big girls get to see the sky.
Dr. Virelli said âdefects donât get windows.â
Nurse Anna said âmaybe when youâre older.â
Ashley Barrett said âweâll ask your father.â
You believed her.
You were now five.
You believed adults when they said your father was busy saving the world.
Homelander came back on your âdate of viability.â
Vought called it a birthday for the press release.
There was a cake. It was white, and it had one candle, and it said Happy Birthday Asset 17B in blue icing.
There were cameras.
Homelander was wearing the suit. Like always..
He smiled for the cameras, and it was the same smile from the toothpaste commercials.
It did not reach his eyes.
You were excited anyway.
You were wearing a new dress. It was also a mint color with a small white jacket. It itched.
You had practiced what to say.
Nurse Anna helped you. She said, âSay âthank you, Daddy, for visiting me.ââ
You said, âThank you, Daddy, for visiting me,â and you meant it.
Homelander stood three feet away from you.
He did not touch the cake.
He did not touch you.
He said, âBlow out the candle, sweetheart,â for the cameras.
His thought was âI should have let them terminate the pregnancy. This is a liability with hair..â
You did not blow out the candle.
You were listening to his thought, and you were five, and you did not understand the words terminate or liability.
But you understood the feeling behind them.
It felt like Dr. Virelli when she said âdefects donât get dessert.â
It felt cold.
You looked up at him.
Your voice was small. You said, âCan I see the sky today?â
You had been waiting two years to ask.
You thought today was the day because he came, and there was cake, and the TV said birthdays are when wishes come true.
Homelanderâs smile did not move.
For the cameras, while fake smiling he said, âMaybe next time, kiddo.â
His thought was âThere wonât be a next time if I can help it. She hears too much. Sheâs dangerous. â
You heard both.
The words and the thought.
They did not match.
Your face did the thing it did when you were trying not to float.
Your lips pressed together. Your hands made fists.
You said, âYouâre lying.â
You did not mean to say it out loud.
You were five.
Five-year-olds are bad at secrets.
The room went quiet.
The cameras kept rolling.
Homelanderâs eyes did something dangerous.
He said, âWhat did you say to me?â
His voice was soft.
His thought was Sheâs challenging me. Sheâs three feet tall and sheâs challenging me.
You were not challenging him.
You were confused.
You said, âYou said maybe. But youâre thinking never. Why are you thinking never?â
Stillwell was behind the glass.
She mouthed Sedate her to Dr. Virelli.
Dr. Virelli moved toward you with a syringe.
You took a step back.
You did not mean to.
When you took a step back, the cake took a step back.
The table took a step back.
The camera on the tripod took a step back.
The whole room sighed and leaned away from you.
Homelander watched it happen.
He did not look scared.
He looked interested.
His thought was Good. Show them why we keep you in a box.
You started to cry.
You did not want to make the room move.
You did not want to be scary.
You just wanted to see the sky.
you look up at your dad and pleaded âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to. Can we still see the sky? Please?â
Homelander looked at you.
Really looked at you.
He saw a five-year-old in an itchy dress, crying over a cake, asking for something he could give her with one flight.
He thought If I take her to see the sky, sheâll love me. If she loves me, sheâll be loyal. If sheâs loyal, sheâs controllable.
Then he thought I donât want her to love me. Love is leverage, and I donât want her to have any.
He made his choice.
He turned to the cameras and said, âLooks like someoneâs got a case of the birthday blues. Letâs get Asset 08B back to her room.â
He did not say your name.
You did not have a name.
He did not say my daughter.
He did not touch you.
He walked out.
Dr. Virelli caught you before you could float.
The sedative went into your arm.
It burned.
You heard Madelyn think Edit out the part where she called him a liar. Keep the part where he calls her sweetheart.
You were asleep before they moved the cake.
You did not get to eat it.
Defects donât get dessert.
You woke up twelve hours later in your room.
The teddy bear was on the floor.
You picked it up.
You did not hug it.
You held it and you thought Daddies on TV lie. My daddy lies too.
It was the first true thing you had ever learned about him.
â
You were five.
You learned that the sky was not for you.
You learned that maybe means never when Homelander says it.
You learned that he could have given you the sky, and he chose not to.
That was the day you stopped calling him Daddy in your head.
summary: Y/N is 3. She's never seen the sky, but she's seen her daddy on TV. Homelander is here because Vought told him to smile for the cameras. She's excited. He's terrified.
One of them is about to learn what love looks like.
The other is about to learn what it costs.
ËËË âĄ ËËË
context: terrible parenting, reader is 3 years old, idk sadness đ
Stillwell told Homelander the boards wanted footage wanted footage with his daughter.
âA legacy tests well with suburban demographics. Smile. Bring her the bear.â Stillwell tells Homelander.
The bear was from Vought+ merch line. It had his logo on the foot and had his costume as well.
__
You were three.
You didnât have a birthday. You had a âdate of viability.â
But you knew what daddies were. You saw them on TV they let you watch for one hour every Saturday.
Daddies on TV picked their kids up.
Daddies on TV smiled for real.
You didnât have one of those yet.
You had a Dr. Virelli, who said âdefects donât get desert,â and you had cameras that watched you sleep at night.
You were on the floor in a white cold room playing with some blocks Vought gave you.
You were building a tower because the lady on the TV said towers touch the sky, you wished u seen the sky..
Then the door opened and he walked in.
No smile. Just him , and a bear with a similar suit as his.
You recognized him immediately, you seen him on TV many times. Known as Homelander.
The nurse squat besides where you were sitting and whispered gently
âyour papaâ
You gasped.
You stood up so fast that the blocks tumbled.
You ran to him.
Your legs were wobbly because you only had been let out of your crib for six months.
You made three steps before tripping on the ground.
But you didnât hit the groundâŚ
Insteadâ you floated.
One inch,then two, then six.
You were giggling because you were flying and your papa was here and maybe he would catch you just like youâd seen on TV..!
Homelander froze.
He had seen tapes of you floating in your sleep.
He hadnât see it in person.
His first thought was âsheâs like me..â
You drifted towards him, arms out, grinning with all your baby teeth.
âDaddy!â you happily yelled.
Your voice was loud and clumsy and certain. No one had told you to call him that. No one had to. The TV said daddies come home. He had finally come home.
Homelander did not move.
He did not catch you.
He did not smile.
He stood there while you floated into him and bumped against his chest.
You grabbed the front of his suit with both hands and held onto him.
You were warm. You were real. You smelled like baby shampoo and the antiseptic they used on the floorsâ
His thought was âGet off me. Get off me before I-â
He did not finish the thought.
Because your thought was louder.
âDaddy! Daddy daddy daddy! You came! You came for me!â
It was the first time anyone had ever been excited to see him without being told to.
It was the first time anyone had touched him without flinching.
It was the first time anyone had called him Dad.
He did not hug you back, he didnât even pick you up either..
He stood still white you floated in front of him, holding into his suit, babbling about blocks and the sky and TV.
âDo you like my tower daddy? I made it just for you, can we see the sky now??â you questioned
He sets the teddy bear down on the floor. He didnât even hand it to you.
âYouâre gettingâŚbig.â he says gently
You beamed at him like he had given you the world.
âYou too daddy!!â you said still holding onto him
âget her off of me..now.â he mumbles to the nurses.
The nurses quickly take you off of him and puts u down.
He quietly stares at you for a moment then leaves without a word.
After he left, you sat on the white floor with the teddy bear in your hands. You hugged it and whispered to it,
âdaddy will come back..right.?â
You didnât know that he had left because your happiness scared him more than your power did.
You were threeâŚyou thought daddies always come back.?
The nurses wrote in your file: âSubject displayed immediate attachment behavior. Recommend leveraging for compliance training.â
summary: homelander finds out he has a daughter..?
info: young reader, horrible father
chapter 1
chapter 2
---
Homelander did not find out from a phone call or a tearful confession. He found out the way he finds out most things: because Vought told him, and they only told him when they needed something from him. It was 2 years after your birth. He was in Madelyn Stillwellâs office, reviewing the marketing deck for the rollout of The Seven.
He was bored.
He was already the strongest man on the planet, and Vought was making him sit through focus group data about whether his smile tested âapproachable.â
Madelyn closed the folder and said, âWe have another item to discuss.â
Her tone was careful.
Homelander hated when people used that tone with him. It meant they were about to ask him to be patient, and Homelander did not like being patient.
She slid a file across the desk. The label read Project 1358 Phase 2, Asset 08A.
He did not open it.
He said âi told you i didnât want a sidekick.â
Madelyn said âItâs not your sidekick. Itâs your daughter.â
Homelander laughed.
He actually laughed, because the idea was stupid.
He did not have a daughter.
He had never slept with anyone without Vought filming it, and Vought would not have hidden a pregnancy from him.
He said, âI would know if I had a kid.â
Madelyn opened the file for him.
The first page was a lab report.
The second page was a DNA match.
99.98% probability of paternity, confirmed by three separate Vought labs.
The third page was a photo.
You were five.
You were in a white room, floating four inches above a cot while you slept.
Your eyes were closed, but your hair was the similar to his real hair color.
Your mouth was set in the same line he saw in the mirror every morning.
Homelander stared at the photo and did not speak for a long time.
His first thought was Impossible.
His second thought was They made another me without asking me. His third thought was Is she stronger than me?
Madelyn said, âThe surrogate was part of the original Compound V gestational trials. You donated in â03. We cryogenically preserved several samples. After the Soldier Boy incident, the board authorized Phase 2.â
Homelander heard board authorized and without asking me and his vision went red at the edges.
He said, âYou grew a child in a lab and didnât tell me.â
Madelyn said, âWe were waiting to see if she was viable. She is. Sheâs more than viable.â
She tapped the photo. âSheâs already manifesting. Telekinesis, flight in sleep states, and something weâre calling empathic projection. She hears thoughts.â
Homelanderâs jaw tightened.
He thought She hears thoughts. Sheâll hear what I think about her.
Out loud he said, âWhere is she?â
Madelyn said, âThe Tower. Subbasement 4. Sheâs been in containment since birth for her own safety.â
Homelander stood up.
He did not ask to see you.
He asked, âWhat does she know?
Madelyn said, âNothing. She thinks her name is Asset 08B. She thinks sheâs sick, and the sedatives are medicine. She has no knowledge of you or of the outside world.â
Homelander processed that.
You were five years old.
You had been alive for five years, and you did not know his name.
You did not know the sky.
You did not know that you were not a disease.
He should have been angry for you.
He was not.
He was angry for himself.
His thought was they made a replacement. They made a better version and they hid her until they were sure.
He said, âTake me to her.â
The walk to Subbasement 4 was long.
Madelyn talked the entire time about âlegacy planningâ and âgenerational heroesâ and âmarketability of a family unit.â
Homelander did not listen.
He was thinking If sheâs stronger, I need to control her. If sheâs weaker, I need to distance myself. Either way, she cannot be mine.
The door to your room was steel.
There was a window.
You were inside, sitting on the floor, lining up blocks in a perfect row.
You were playing.
You were pale, and too thin, and your hospital gown was too big.
Homelander watched you through the glass and felt nothing he recognized as paternal.
He felt assessed.
He felt threatened.
You looked up, as if you had heard him.
You had.
You were five, and you were already listening.
Your eyes met his through the glass.
Your thought hit him before he could shield against it, high and clear and curious: Who are you? Youâre like me. Why are you sad?
Homelander took a step back from the door.
He said to Madelyn, âShe stays here.â
Madelyn said, âOf course. Until sheâs ready.â
Homelander said, âSheâll never be ready,â and walked away.
He did not visit again for two years.
When he did, he brought a camera crew.
He called you âmy little girlâ for Vought+.
He thought Say it back. Say it so I know youâre controllable.
You did not say it back.
You never did.
That was how Homelander found out he had a daughter.
Not with joy.
Not with love.
With a file, a photo, and the immediate understanding that you were either his greatest asset or his eventual replacement.
He decided to treat you like both.
---
well thatâs chapter one for u, hoped u enjoyed it!!!