homelander doesn't technically need to sleep, but he will when he absolutely has to. especially when it gives him a chance to snuggle up with you.
he mostly doesn't like being clung onto, but when you're in bed with him he prefers you clinging on to him. some nights it's the only way he can sleep.
he likes being the little spoon more than he lets on, but his favourite way to sleep is with his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat. (bonus points if you've got boobs and they're big enough for him to feel on either side of his head when he's lying face down on you)
he has nightmares way less frequently when you're sleeping next to him. if you feel him jump awake you're right there to give him the comfort that he dearly needs. even if he doesn't exactly want it.
the same can't always be said when you have a nightmare. most of the time he'll be patient and understanding, holding you until you stop shaking and wiping your tears away if you cry. but there are times when he's not in the mood for any nonsense and will just snap at you to stop being stupid and go back to sleep.
you can't take it personally, but it does sting in the moment. he does care about you, he just has a strange way of showing it.
if you fall asleep somewhere in his place, he will just pick you up and carry you off to bed, whether you planned on staying over or not. he'll even get you undressed if your daytime clothes are too uncomfortable to sleep in.
he prefers the both of you to sleep naked, the skin-to-skin contact is both comforting and stimulating at the same time. plus, it allows for a midnight roll in the sheets if either of you wake up in the mood.
he will pout if you go to bed wearing pyjamas and he gets the horn while sleeping nude, but that doesn't mean that he isn't going to unwrap you like a present.
the first time the two of you slept together, he assured you many many many times that he wasn't going to crush you in his sleep. even when that wasn't even a concern you had.
summary: homelander catastrophises when his bookworm goes MIA for a week
pairing: homelander x female reader
warnings: stalking, slight obsession, mentions of past abusive relationship, mentions of masturbation, violence, blood, HL learning to be gentle and patient, post s1/pre s2, some patriarchal ideals about relationships
word count: 5988 words (oh no)
a/n: part of this chapter was inspired by hom3landr's baker!verse series, which you should read if you haven't already because it's fabulous and i love it. also, i tried to balance the sweetness and darkness in this chapter bc full-on dark isn't really my thing but i'm willing to step out of my comfort zone every now and then. plus, i am very aware of the irony of reader escaping an abusive relationship to end up with someone who's just as bad or even worse than her ex.
if you like this series please let me know, it helps keep me motivated to continue with it 💕
one | two | three | four
Homelander knew more about Y/N than he would ever let on.
He knew her coffee order and her favourite foods, what she liked to read and that she liked to listen to podcasts while reading and working. He knew plenty of stories from her former job in the public library, that she didn't watch a lot of TV and preferred to read before bed over anything else. He knew her favourite music, her favourite movies, her favourite authors, and that he was her favourite superhero.
But those were all things that she had told him.
She'd never told him where she lived; he'd figured that out himself when he followed her home one night from a distance. When she'd told her what was going on with her ex-boyfriend, she'd used the word 'stalked', but that wasn't what Homelander was doing at all.
He was just making sure she got home from work safe. Even when that involved flying above her and listening out for her heartbeat.
He'd never tell her that he'd been watching her for months, or that he knew she went to the gym three times a week. She'd never know that he'd found out some of her more intimate traits just by hiding on the balcony of her sixth-floor apartment, listening and watching her through the walls.
He knew what shower products she used, that she treated herself to a hot chocolate before bed when feeling particularly stressed, that she called her parents twice a week, and that her front door had six locks. Each one checked and double-checked before she went to bed. He’d even figured out that she was asthmatic as a child just from listening to how her lungs sometimes wheezed in exertion.
Homelander found her little quirks endearing; some of them were the signs that she'd been scared and was trying to keep herself safe, but he liked that she was trying. He shouldn't have liked that. Deep down, she was likely just the same as all the other mud people: just wanting something from him. But he had yet to figure out what exactly that was.
One thing he would make sure she never found out was that he knew what she sounded like when she came. She would never know how hard the sound of her little gasps and moans made him.
He knew the kind of porn she liked, he knew which acts she gravitated towards, and he knew that she fucked herself with a cheap star-spangled toy while he stroked himself on the other side of her bedroom wall, one of his gloves between his teeth to muffle any sounds he made. He wished it was her hand on his cock, or maybe her mouth, even her pussy. He wished it was his face between her legs and not that stupid toy; he'd get her off much faster, be able to get to the places she had difficulty getting to.
At the beginning, he'd figured that she was just a meek little librarian, someone not worth getting to know. But now, he couldn't deny how much he wanted her. She saw him as a person, not a persona, and treated him like he was real and not as if he had been moulded from clay to be the perfect person.
He had to have her. The question was just how he would get her.
On Monday morning, Homelander descended into the archives just as he did every day. Only the doors were locked, and the lights were all turned off. It was already 10 am, and she started work at 9 on the dot every weekday without fail. The walls melted away as he looked through them to her desk, looking around inside for her, but she was nowhere to be found.
Maybe she's taken a vacation day, he wondered, but part of him had a feeling that something was wrong.
In the months that he'd known her, Y/N had never taken a day off without telling him first. She'd said that it was so he didn't waste his valuable time looking for her, and yet here he was taking time out of his day to look for her. Once he couldn't find her, he made his way back up to ninety-nine, feeling disappointed that he didn't have his treasured bookworm time.
The next day, she was still nowhere to be found. And the day after that. And again.
A whole week had passed with no Y/N, and Homelander was starting to lose his cool. He knew for a fact that she hadn't completely disappeared since he hovered outside her apartment almost every night. So why was she not at work?
Has she quit? Does she not want me around anymore?
He felt like a hole had been punched in his chest. She'd always been so happy to see him and talk to him; how could she just abandon him like this?
He forced the feeling back down, deep inside himself where he couldn't feel it, before making his way back upstairs.
On ninety-nine, he found Starlight in her space at the meeting table, scrolling through her phone. Even though Y/N had told her that they only really talked occasionally, he could trust her on this matter more than he could anyone else.
"Starlight," he said, making her head snap up from her phone. "You haven't seen or heard from Y/N lately, have you?"
"Y/N from the archives?" she asked as she put her phone screen down on the table. "Not all week. Why? I didn't know you talked to her."
Of course you didn't. It's not really any of your fucking business.
"The doors for the archives have been locked all week, and nobody will tell me where she is."
"Maybe she's sick. She doesn't really talk about herself all that much to me; she seems like a pretty private person."
To you, maybe.
"Why do you need to see her? Is there something in the archives you need?"
"No." Yes. "I just needed to talk to her about something. I'll see if she's at home."
"Um, Homelander?" Starlight called after him as he turned to leave. "Don't scare her. She's been through a lot."
Homelander scoffed and rolled his eyes before making his way back out. Of course he wasn't going to scare her. He'd been nothing but kind and courteous to her.
What could he possibly do that would scare her?
Getting into Y/N's apartment building was easier than he'd expected. All it took was some charm, and Homelander was buzzed through, free to go straight up to the sixth floor. He could hear her inside, the television playing some inane reality show while she talked on the phone, presumably to her parents.
He'd just raised his fist to knock on her front door when he paused. What exactly was he supposed to say to her when she opened the door? He didn't just 'happen to be around' and decide to drop on by; he'd purposely come to see why she was avoiding him.
Starlight's words echoed in his mind. Don't scare her.
Instead of dwelling on it, he hastily knocked on the door before he could change his mind. On the other side of the door, he heard each lock click and latch slide before the hinges squealed open and she nervously poked her head through the crack.
Her eyes widened once she saw him.
"Homelander? What are you doing here?"
"Surprise," he said. "I missed you this week, and Starlight said you maybe weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd come check in on you."
"You missed me?" she asked bashfully as she opened the door. She was already wearing her pyjamas, and he could smell the sweet scent of her body lotion on her skin. None of it should have made his loins stir, but all he could think about doing was unwrapping her like a present so he could feel her soft body.
"Of course I did," he said warmly as he stepped forward. "My day's not complete if I don't see my bookworm."
He heard her inhale, her heartbeat pick up, and her body shivered slightly at being so close to him. He hadn't come to her home with the intention of flustering her, but it was a nice addition.
"D-do you want to come in? I was going to make some hot chocolate."
God, she was so sweet he swore it was going to kill him.
"Sure!" he said before waltzing through the door into the apartment.
"Sorry if it's a mess in here," she said as she re-locked the door behind them. "I don't have a lot of people over."
Homelander scanned over the room, taking in what little mess there actually was. A single dirty plate and cutlery set were in the otherwise empty sink, while a coffee mug and a basket of laundry sat on the coffee table in the living room. If that was what she counted as a mess, he dreaded to think what she thought looked like a pigsty.
"I've seen worse," he said as he took a seat at her kitchen table, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor. He took his gloves off and unceremoniously dumped them in front of him, the leather slapping together.
"I grew up in the kind of house where we had to dust in every nook and cranny when we had guests," she said with a soft laugh as she gathered her hot chocolate supplies. "Kind of a hard habit to shake."
They made light conversation as she made the sugary drinks, heating the milk on the stove, stirring in the cocoa powder, and pouring them into mugs. Of course, he couldn't decline when she asked if he wanted cream and marshmallows. Chocolate wasn't his favourite, but when it came with almost a can's worth of cream, he was willing to indulge.
"So tell me," he said as he ran his index finger through the mountain of whipped cream before licking it off. "What's been going on with you lately? You don't seem sick, and you would have told me if you had any time off."
Her pulse spiked. He watched her hands start to tremble as she picked up her mug and tried to lift it to her mouth. Clearly the stress-relief hot chocolate wasn't working tonight.
"Hey, you're okay," he soothed as he took the mug from her hands. "Try to breathe."
She took in a shuddering breath as tears pricked her eyes, making them sparkle in the low light. If she wasn't about to melt down, he would have thought she looked pretty.
"He-he found me," she croaked. "Last week. He was waiting for me outside the Tower on Friday."
"Who did?" Homelander already had a good feeling who she was talking about, but he still needed to hear her say it.
"Scott, my ex."
His stomach dropped at hearing the name. He'd made sure she made it home safe every single night for the past few months, and yet that scumbag still managed to find her and get under her skin.
"I came to Vought because of the security it promised me. Nobody can get into the archives without clearance access, the building isn't exactly public, and you're there. But he was mooching around waiting for me. I think he saw me, but as soon as I saw him I just ran."
"So you've been staying here instead of coming in," he said as a statement, not a question.
She nodded, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I've just been so scared to leave the apartment in case I run into him, and he does something to me again. I mostly feel safe here, but I can't sleep because I keep thinking about him finding out where I live and trying to break in."
That explains the metric fuckton of locks.
"C'mere," he said as he took hold of her hands and guided her around the table and into his lap. "Nothing bad is going to happen, okay? I'll make sure of it."
Her body fit perfectly against his, as if she was supposed to have been in his arms all along. The scent of her hair products drifted into his nose when she rested her head on his shoulder, making his heart flutter at how much she trusted him and wanted to be held by him.
Is this what it's supposed to be like? To be wanted rather than feared?
"Thank you," she said as she returned his touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body into his. "Will you stay?"
Don't scare her.
She was already scared, but clearly not of him. She wouldn't have asked him to stay with her if she was.
"Of course I will," he mumbled as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I'll stay as long as you want."
Without thinking, he turned slightly to kiss the top of her head and pulled her tighter to him. He let his mouth linger, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and letting it wash over him.
But it was over too soon. Y/N suddenly pulled away from him, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking at him with wide eyes, her lips parted. He couldn't get a read on her reaction; her heart was beating fast, and he could feel her body warm, but she didn't seem upset.
"What's wro-"
"Don't stop," she interrupted, her voice just above a whisper. "Do it again."
Tentatively, he pulled his hand away from her back and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers, watching how her eyes dilated and feeling the blood rushing under her skin. His palm cupped her jaw as he brought her forehead to his mouth to gently kiss it.
Is this right? Is this what she wants?
He had no reason to wonder when she raised her head to rest her forehead against his, her nose stroking along his as their lips brushed together, as if she was asking him to keep going. Finally, he pressed his lips to hers, and something bloomed in his chest, warm and bright.
She tentatively returned his kiss, her soft lips pushing back and moulding with his, sharing her sweet taste. He could taste lingering cream and chocolate on her mouth, mingled with something unique to her that he couldn't get enough of. A chill ran up his spine when she hummed in pleasure and rested her hands on his chest.
He wanted to feel her hands on his bare skin, but that lingering worry that he would scare her remained. His cock stirred in his pants, no doubt hard enough for her to feel it, but she was none the wiser when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her more as he kissed her deeper.
Her chocolate mouth was warm and inviting for him; had he been in a less clear mindset, he would have ripped her clothes off there and then, but the time for that wasn't now. Holding her by the hips as she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissing her senseless would have to do.
He could have kissed her forever, until she'd lost the ability to think or speak, but unfortunately, she was only human. One who needed to breathe.
"You okay there?" he murmured against her mouth as she panted against him.
"Yeah," she breathed, flustered as she removed her hands from his hair. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You're a good kisser," he said when he drew away from her, keeping her in his lap. "Not at all what I expected from a bookworm like you."
She didn't say anything, just tried to hide her hot face in his shoulder before climbing off him.
The rest of the night was mundane but perfect: the two of them lounged on the sofa in front of the small television set, that show about drag queens playing at a low volume as she lay on his chest and let him play with her hair. The experience felt brand new to him; he'd spent so much of his relationships being the one who was comforted that being able to comfort someone was an alien experience, but one that he warmly welcomed.
Everything about the situation was how things should be: a man taking care of his girl when she needed him the most. No hidden agendas, no strings being pulled. It was as easy as breathing for him.
Once he felt Y/N start to drift off in his arms, he held her tighter to his chest and stood up to carry her to her bedroom, not needing to ask where to go. The small room felt cosier than his grand penthouse, like someone actually lived there. A pile of clothes sat on a chair in the corner, and a vanity table with makeup strewn across the surface was wedged between her bed and a wall.
Carefully, he laid her down on the double mattress and tucked the blanket around her, as if she was a giant caterpillar. He hesitated a moment before reaching down to cup her face in the palm of his hand, feeling her warm cheek, how soft her skin was. He was just bout to draw away when she stirred.
"Where are you going?" she murmured as she nuzzled her face into his palm and opened her eyes again. "I thought you were going to stay."
"I'll be here," he said softly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "But you've gotta get some sleep. We need our archivist to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning."
Her hand snaked out of the blanket cocoon and gently patted the space beside her. "Stay with me. At least until I'm asleep."
He swept his cape up behind him and lay down on the mattress next to her, not bothering to take his boots off. She didn't seem to mind from the way her eyelids were fluttering to stay open. The sheets smelled like her, sweet and delicate from her lingering body lotion and laundry detergent. There wasn't enough room for him to lie on his back, so he rolled over to face her, their foreheads almost pressed together.
She felt so warm, cocooned in her blankets, and he wished he could hold her close to him again. But then he would never be able to let her go.
"You never told me how you managed to get away from him," Homelander said after a long pause, his voice low.
Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again in hesitation. He could tell that she still wasn't entirely comfortable telling him all of the details, but he couldn't help his curiosity.
"I waited until he wasn't home one night and packed as much as I could in a bag so I could just run without him catching me," she said softly. "I figured I could just get the rest of my stuff later."
"Did he? Catch you, I mean."
She nodded. "He caught me as he was coming into the apartment and tried to pull me back inside, but all he managed to do was tackle me to the floor. So I kicked him in the face. He said I broke his nose."
"Did you?"
She laughed softly, a burst of air from her nose. "No, but I really tried."
"Atta girl," he said with a smile. "I figured you had some fire in you."
"I didn't have any money since he took all of it for himself, so I ran to my coworker's house. I didn't know where else to go."
"Well, you're safe now. I'll keep you safe."
He wanted to tell her about himself, but the time wasn't right. The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue.
I was hurt too.
But that was a conversation for another day. For now, he was just content to be able to fall asleep next to her.
At 5.30 pm the next Monday, Homelander waited for Y/N to finish work, just as he'd promised he would, to escort her home. As much as she tried to keep her nerves from him, he could hear how heavily her heart pounded in her chest and her teeth grinding together. It had taken quite a bit of convincing for her to come back to the archives after her week off, but he could tell that she was still apprehensive about leaving the building.
What did she have to worry about? She had him to look after her now.
"What's wrong?" he asked when he noticed that she'd stopped following him through the foyer.
"Everyone's staring," Y/N said, her voice small as she hugged her tote bag closer to her body. "Is it always like this?"
He glanced around at the other people gathered in the foyer, who were certainly staring at them. Some looked away when they noticed him looking back, while others continued, having whispered conversations behind their hands as if he couldn't hear them. Air-headed corporate types didn't normally bother him, but today they did.
Who's that girl with Homelander? What's she doing with him? Whose dick did she have to suck to get to hang out with him?
He fought back the urge to laser every one of them, instead settling for shooting the dirtiest look he could muster and making them scurry off like bugs under a log.
"Just try to ignore them," he said as he took her hand in his. "It's me they're looking at, not you."
They'd just reached the sidewalk when Y/N tugged on his hand, forcing herself to hide behind his back. He could feel her start to tremble against him as her pulse spiked and her lungs constricted, wheezing as she tried to stop herself from hyperventilating.
"What?" he asked, trying to pull her out from behind him. "What's going on?"
"He's here." Her voice was thin and strained as she cowered against him. "Over there."
Homelander followed Y/N's finger to where she pointed, his gaze landing on a scrawny-looking poindexter on the other side of the street.
That was the chump who'd reduced his sweet bookworm into a quivering mess?
His feet moved before his brain did. Y/N reluctantly let go of his hand as he started to march away from her.
"Please don't do anything bad," she called after him, her voice still shaking.
"I'm just gonna talk to him," he called back over his shoulder. "Don't worry."
The traffic slowed and stopped for him as he sauntered over the road, never looking anywhere but at his latest target. Even from fifty feet away, he could smell the stale cologne on him, could hear how he muttered to himself about Y/N.
God, what did she ever see in this guy?
The guy looked like he'd stepped right off the set of The Big Bang Theory; unruly hair that he clearly didn't know what to do with, lame graphic tee with some nerd shit on it. There was no way he was the same person who had convinced her she was nothing but dirt.
But he knew that looks could be deceiving.
"Hey there," Homelander called out as he approached. "You need something? Directions, an autograph?"
"Oh, Homelander," the guy said in surprise as he turned to face him. "I'm just, uh, waiting for my girlfriend to finish work."
"Really? Who's your girlfriend?"
"Her name's Y/N, she works in the archives."
You stupid fuck.
"Oh, Y/N! I know her, nice girl. You must be Scott, then. But from what she's told me, you're not her boyfriend anymore."
Scott's face dropped, clearly not very good at hiding his emotions.
"No, she's definitely my girlfriend," he said slowly. "I promised I would walk her home. You never know what weirdos are lurking around here."
"Hmm, I know exactly what weirdos are hanging around here."
Homelander narrowed his eyes at him, making sure to get as far under his skin as possible. There was no chance that this loser was going to act like his bookworm was actually his.
"What do you want with Y/N anyway? You guys friends or something?" Scott asked, starting to regain his nerve.
"Something like that."
"Figures," he scoffed. "She always preferred the company of men, if you know what I mean."
Homelander grit his teeth together, trying to keep himself from smashing his face into the wall.
"Alright buddy," he said. "She's already told me everything you did to her. I know that you kept her from her family, I know that you stole her money, and I know that you beat the shit out of her on a regular fucking basis."
His pulse spiked.
Gotcha.
"Listen, sh-she deserved it," he stuttered. "The apartment was always a mess, she spent all of her money as soon as she got it, she would talk to other guys all the time, I just couldn't get a hold of her."
"Bullshit," Homelander spat, the word punctuated with a quick flick to the bridge of his nose.
The cartilage cracked and splintered under his finger with a satisfying crunch before blood poured out of his nose like a faucet. No doubt there would be hairline fractures in other parts of his face.
"You broke my nose!" Scott cried, his voice muffled by his hands as he tried to stop blood from spilling down his face. "You broke my fucking nose!"
"Just finishing the job for her," Homelander hissed as he backed away from the snivelling loser. "If I catch you hanging around here again, it'll be your whole skull that gets caved in. Got it?"
"I'm gonna sue you. I'm gonna go to the press and then sue you and Vought for all you've got."
Homelander barked out a laugh. "I'd love to see you try. You go to the press and say that I broke your nose over your ex-girlfriend, who's going to believe you? This doesn't even count as collateral damage."
Just as quickly as he'd strode over, he turned on his heel again, inspecting his glove for any blood. Thankfully, they were spotless.
Clean as a whistle.
"I'd say I'd see you around, Scotty, but I don't want to see your fucking face around here ever again. You don't want to be sniffing around Y/N unless you want something worse to happen."
Without even looking back, he made his way back to the front of Vought Tower, a satisfied smirk on his face as cars stopped for him. Y/N was still waiting for him at the doors, clutching her bag to her body as she watched him approach her. She looked anxious as the people around her started to swarm towards him, trying to make herself look smaller and smaller in the crowd.
But as soon as she saw him, her body relaxed, and her eyes softened. When she'd told him she felt safe with him, he hadn't exactly believed her, but seeing how she reacted to his presence convinced him.
How could someone want to break down a creature as sweet and beautiful as her? Why would someone want to hurt her?
An image of her battered, bloodied face flashed into his mind: her nose bleeding, her lip split, one of her eyes blackened and swollen. It made his stomach turn; his blood ran hot. He could just turn back and finish the bastard off, but that wasn't what she wanted.
And what she didn't want, he didn't want.
"What happened?" Y/N asked as he approached her. "Is everything okay?"
He didn't say anything; instead, he closed the gap between them and cradled her face in his hands. She jumped slightly at the sudden contact before relaxing into him, the roar of the crowd around them fading away into a hum.
She felt so fragile under his hands; he could apply just the slightest amount of pressure to her head, and it would burst like a ripe tomato. But then that would make him just as bad as he was, and he only wanted to be good for her.
Don't scare her.
People were starting to look at them again; he could feel their eyes boring into him. If I did what he wanted to do, no doubt Ashley would be on his back about making a PR statement, or going public. That was the last thing either of them wanted.
Don't scare her.
"Are you okay?" she asked him again, her forehead starting to crease in concern. "What's wrong?"
"Fuck it," he mumbled under his breath before crashing his lips into hers, not caring about the commotion around them.
She stumbled backwards as a surprised squeak bubbled in her throat, her heart pounding as he continued to touch her, hoping to kiss the shock out of her. Her face was rigid against his for a moment before she kissed him back, melting into him as her hands rested on his chest.
The delicate scent of her perfume and the taste of her lip balm filled his senses, and a pleasured hum escaped her throat when her lips parted for him. He resisted the urge to kiss her the way he had in her apartment, suddenly hyper aware of the attention they were gaining.
Maybe if he kissed her more, they would all just go away.
"What was that for?" she asked him when he reluctantly broke away from her, her voice soft and sweet.
“No reason,” he mumbled against her lips. “Just felt like it.”
She smiled against him before giving him one more brief peck and pulling away from him. His face dropped slightly as his hands fell from her face, immediately missing the feeling of her being so close to him. But once the roar of the crowd around them returned, he understood why she'd moved away.
No doubt there would be a splash page of the two of them on Page Six the next day.
One gawking reporter asked who the 'lucky lady' was; plenty others demanded statements, but Homelander was hardly in the mood for PR. He wanted to make sure his girl got home safely, and he would turn every single one of them to dust if he had to.
"I think it's time we got you home, bookworm," he purred as he wrapped an arm around Y/N, holding her tightly to him with her arms circled around his neck. "Hold on tight."
She squeaked in surprise when they shot up into the air, the city getting smaller and smaller until the people looked like ants beneath them. Her grip on him tightened as they rose higher and higher, her lungs wheezing in the thinner air. They barely had the time to admire the view below them as they soared over the city, finally landing on the balcony of her apartment. He didn't want to let her go, and he could feel that she was still clinging onto him, her legs shaking as she regained her balance.
"You doing okay there?" he asked her when he let her go to unlock the balcony door.
"Yeah," she shakily breathed out as she opened the door and let them both inside. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Homelander followed her inside, slid the door closed behind her and watched her as she took her jacket off and hung it up at the front door. All six of the locks were still untouched.
"Is it always like that?" Y/N asked once she was sure that her legs weren't going to give out beneath her.
"What, flying?"
"No, I mean the attention," she said as she put her bag down on the sofa beside her and kicked her shoes off, Homelander following her lead. "I always thought I was destined to be invisible my whole life, so that is something I never thought would happen to me."
"You'll get used to it." The anxious look on Y/N's face didn't make it seem like she was entirely convinced. "Alright, you don't have to get used to all the attention just because of me. If you want your privacy, I'll make sure you get it."
"How can you be so sure? I really don't want to have the press knocking on my door."
"Sweetheart," he purred, a dangerous tone in his voice. "They'll listen to me. They have to."
Her face softened as she leaned in to him, tucking her legs up next to her as he pulled her to sit in his lap. He was just about to kiss her temple when a muffled ding sounded from her bag. An annoyed grunt escaped her throat as she forced herself to sit up and pull her phone out of her bag to look at a message. One that made her furrow her brow.
"What is it?"
"Library group chat," Y/N said, not looking up from her phone. "Apparently Scott's going around telling people you broke his nose."
That little pipsqueak works fast.
"I'm sure he's fine," Homelander said, a little too quickly.
"Did you?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
He could just lie to her and say he did it to himself. But that would be breaking the promise they'd made to each other.
"It's not a bad break," he eventually said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "He'll be fine in a few weeks. Besides, I got him off your back, didn't I?"
"I guess that explains why you didn't tell me what happened right away… But if it gets him to leave me alone, then okay."
"You're not mad?" he asked as he took his gloves off and unceremoniously dumped them on the coffee table.
"Of course I'm not mad," she said sweetly as she snuggled back into his chest.
He was quiet for a moment, not making any moves to touch her. She'd just found out the truth of how much he was willing to protect and defend her, and yet she wasn't cowering away from him like he'd expected her to. Instead, she was cuddling up to him like a puppy.
"You're not scared? Of me?"
She sat up again to look at him and took his face in her hands.
"No, I'm not scared of you," she said softly. "Should I be?"
"Someone once told me that they were scared of me. Someone I thought I was very close to."
"And where are they now?"
Dead. With a smoking hole in her head.
"She's not around anymore," he said, wanting to change the subject. "And that's for the best."
He braced himself for a barrage of questions about her that he wasn't in the mood to answer. He didn't think he would ever be in the mood to answer. A sense of relief washed over him when Y/N just nodded in agreement and leaned in to rest her forehead against his.
"Well, if I had your powers, I would have done the same for you," she said softly. "Thank you for looking out for me."
Homelander felt his face burn under her touch, and he prayed that she couldn't feel how hot his skin had become.
Is that what love is supposed to be like? Real, true love with no lies?
No matter how many times Starlight's words echoed in his mind, there was still that underlying fear that he was going to scare Y/N. She didn't know that he was easily smitten like this; not only did he fall fast, but he fell hard.
He couldn't fuck this up. He wouldn't fuck this up.
"Anytime, bookworm," he said, just as softly as she touched him. "Anytime."
summary: homelander takes an interest in vought tower's new archivist
pairing: homelander x female reader
warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of past abusive relationship and stalking, age gap (reader is early 30s), mild panic attack, this takes place early on in s1 so homelander is uncharacteristically nice but also completely unable to read a situation
word count: 4213 words (i got a little carried away oops)
a/n: i'm still quite early on in the series so i don't know if vought tower actually does have a library/archives but i also don't really care i just wrote this for fun while bored at work and listening to the 'ambient' noises of the public library (that being babies crying, a guy yelling down his phone which was on speaker, and my annoying coworker constantly humming and making old man noises). also, this is my first full homie fic so excuse me if i get things wrong about his characer.
one | two | three | four
Nobody ever goes to the archives in Vought Tower. Especially not the Seven.
At least, that's what Y/N was told on her very first day.
She'd never accepted the job of an archivist with the hopes of being able to mingle with superheroes; she'd taken it because of the quiet on offer. No phone calls being taken on speakerphone, no screaming children, nobody taking drugs in the bathrooms, nobody starting fights—just peace.
It had taken some time to get used to the archives' quiet after the craziness of the public library. At first, the silence was deafening; the musty smell of old books and documents hidden away in rows upon rows of filing cabinets made her wonder how to breathe without smelling them, and the sheer lack of people clashed with her previous customer service training. Eventually, she'd become used to only seeing a few people in the day, usually corporate types from the upper levels who didn't want to make any conversation and looked down their noses at her, but that all changed when the Supes decided to visit her one by one.
The first to come into the archives was Starlight, the new girl. Y/N could tell right away that the Iowan was a little green as she wandered past the glass doors of the archives on her self-led tour of the building, a little curious about what she was looking at before being waved inside. She was disappointed at first that the archives weren't a library in the traditional sense. Still, she was happy to stay and chat with Y/N for a while before being whisked away for some kind of top-secret meeting, promising to meet up with her for coffee or lunch later.
A week later, Queen Maeve visited her. Having been a part of the Seven for much longer than Starlight, she managed to give Y/N a proper welcome to the building, alongside a couple of things she should know. Her first tips were where to get some time alone away from the prying eyes of security and the best things to order for lunch, but there were others that Y/N found more useful.
"A-Train, Deep, and Noir might come say hello, but I wouldn't guarantee it," she'd said as she walked through the shelves with Y/N. "Oh, and keep an ear out for Translucent. He likes to creep around."
Y/N nodded as she listened, shelving what had been taken and closing cabinets that she'd left open by mistake. While it was nice that Maeve was tempering her expectations on who would actually come down from the ninety-ninth floor to give her a simple greeting, she did hope that one particular person would just walk past the door even once.
"What about Homelander?" she asked when they'd gotten back to her desk at the front of the archives. "Would he ever come down?"
Maeve paused, her back straightening at the sound of his name. Y/N watched her face as she thought of what to say next.
"Homelander doesn't really… mingle," she said carefully, obviously trying not to disappoint her too much. "Don't take it personally, he just prefers to keep to himself. He only ever comes downstairs if he wants something."
Y/N felt herself deflate a little, trying to hide her disappointment from Maeve. He may have been her favourite of the Seven, but she understood how busy Homelander was all the time. There was no way he would take time out of his day to head down to say hi to the new girl in the archives.
But a part of her hoped that he would.
In the weeks that followed, Y/N had pretty much given up on her pipe dream of running into Homelander while on the clock, settling into her role of archiving and processing any documents that were unceremoniously dumped on her desk. Starlight still met up with her for lunch a couple of times a week, and Maeve very occasionally dropped by, but for the most part, she was completely alone.
Thankfully, it was exactly what she needed after years of chaos and stress in the public library system. Due to there being no patrons or other coworkers she needed to listen out for, she was able to just do whatever she felt, spending her day with her headphones on as she worked or reading books she'd bought herself when there was a lull in her work.
Her read for that week was some superhero romance she'd picked up on a whim, the male love interest clearly a stand-in for Homelander. Blue suit, sharp facial features, perfectly styled blond hair - he couldn't have been mistaken for anyone else. But Y/N would be lying to herself if she hadn't picked it up for that very reason.
When she'd worked in the public libraries, she'd always scoff whenever another one arrived in an order, considering them to be mass-produced slop for bored housewives with Supe fantasies. But after picking up one of them at Grand Central when in need of something different, she found herself craving more and more of them. Especially the ones with Homelander knock-offs.
If she wasn't going to see the real one, a fake one would just have to do.
She'd torn through half of the book in almost no time, wanting to know how the naive main character would fall for the handsome hero or how many times she would put herself in harm's way to get a chance of seeing him again. There was very little work to do since she'd flown through digitising everything she'd already been given, so she had more than enough time to read her silly little book, her earbuds in so she could listen to her podcasts in peace.
However, she'd completely underestimated just how engrossed she would become with the book. Not a single thing or person in the world could have torn her away from the world she'd fallen into, the pages flicking between her fingers as she continued to read, the images in her mind changing from the characters to her and Homelander.
Three sharp knocks on the desk snapped her out of her fantasy world, dragging her back into the real world. She jolted upright, yanking her earbuds out with one hand as she closed the book over her thumb on the other, her heart racing as she looked to see who her unexpected visitor was.
The glint of the golden eagle on his belt was the first thing to catch her eye before she let them trail up the suit, trying not to let her eyes show her nerves. They widened once they finally rested on his face, a tiny breath hitching in her throat.
Oh God, please tell me he didn't hear that.
There he was, the man she'd been dreaming about meeting for so long, even before there was a possibility of seeing him, standing right in front of her. And she could barely bring herself to speak, instead just ogling him like he was a statue.
"S-sorry, Homelander," she breathed, forcing her mouth to move as her heart continued to hammer, no doubt loud enough for him to hear it. "I didn't hear you come in."
He continued to look over her, as if she were a specimen he was studying. Her skin tingled under his gaze, making her feel like she was under a microscope or he was trying to see through her.
You've dreamed about meeting him for years, she told herself as she tried to steel her nerves. Don't fuck this up.
"So, uh, what brings you down here?" she asked, trying to hide the waver in her voice. She'd already somewhat embarrassed herself by being totally oblivious to his presence; the last thing she needed was for him to hear how nervous she was to talk to him.
"Well, I got word that we have a new librarian and figured I'd drop by and see for myself," he said, his voice warm like caramel in her ears. "Gotta say, you're not what I expected."
"Yeah, a few people have been surprised to see that I'm not a little blue-haired old lady." His mouth quirked up at the corner, a slight boyish smile threatening to spread across his face. "But I'm an archivist, not a librarian."
He shrugged and waved a hand at her, clearly not interested in semantics, before his eyes travelled down to the book still on the desk.
"Whatcha reading there?" he asked as he reached down to get a better look at the cover. His gloved fingers briefly brushed against her bare knuckles, and she jumped at the contact, her pulse spiking.
"Sorry," she breathed, her voice small as she found her bookmark and wedged it between the pages before setting the book cover down on the desk. "It's just, uh, a romance novel."
"You okay there, bookworm? You're a little jumpy."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Y/N said, trying to calm herself down. "I'm just a little starstruck. I don't talk to a lot of superheroes."
"I know you talk to Starlight a lot. And Maeve."
"Yeah, but neither of them is you." She noticed a slight blush creep over his cheekbones, as if it were the first time someone had complimented him. "And besides, Maeve said to not expect to see you down here."
"Why not?"
"She said that you prefer to keep to yourself. Plus, you're always so busy. I can't imagine you get much time to mingle with us underlings."
He laughed. Or at least, she thought he did. It sounded more like a scoff.
"She's right that I am busy, but I can make time to come down from ninety-nine once in a while," he said as he swept his cape to the side and perched on the edge of her desk.
"Well, I'm honoured that you made the time for me," Y/N said, her back straightening slightly so that she could see him better. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Glad to have you on board," Homelander said, a soft smile on his lips. Not that obviously phoney one he wore on TV. "So, what brings you to the Vought Family? You don't seem the corporate type."
He'd got her there. She'd never wanted to work in a 'professional' environment like most people at Vought did, preferring something more laid back. In fact, she didn't own a single item of 'professional' clothing. But her jeans and cardigan didn't seem to offend him.
"Well, I worked for the public libraries in Queens for about six years, and I loved the place, but I figured it was time for a change."
"Queens…." he trailed off, as if he was trying to recall something. "They used to do those Superhero Storytimes, didn't they?"
"Yep! They stopped doing them before I got there, but they sounded like fun."
An image of Homelander squatting down on a tiny toddler-sized chair, reading a picture book about heroes to a group of enraptured preschoolers popped into her mind, and she fought back the smile it gave her.
"I didn't read any books, but I do remember visiting one of the libraries there. Nice atmosphere, way better than down here."
"I don't mind it. Contrary to popular belief, libraries aren't quiet anymore. Here I get plenty of peace and quiet."
Homelander looked around at the sea of filing cabinets, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the whir of the air conditioner were the only sounds to be heard. He turned back to her, not exactly convinced that the archives were the ideal working environment.
"Don't you miss having other people around? It feels kinda lonely down here,"
"Sometimes, but…" Y/N trailed off, her gums tingling as she considered whether or not to say what was on the tip of her tongue. "I guess I like being alone sometimes. There were a couple of people who I didn't really like working with back at the library. People I needed to see the back of, if you know what I mean."
She bit down on her tongue, hoping that he wouldn't ask her to elaborate. Her reason for leaving the library was still too fresh a wound to be opened up again. Thankfully, he just nodded and stood up from her desk.
"Hmm, yeah," he said, his voice dropping low. "I know exactly what you mean."
A slight chill ran up Y/N's spine, but the straightness of her posture helped her to fight it off. The atmosphere of the conversation had changed so fast that she didn't know what else to say. But she couldn't exactly just sit and stare at him until he got bored with her. Her skin started to prickle again as her nerves flared, her throat constricting as she tried to come up with something to say or do.
The last thing she wanted was for the most powerful man in the world to think she was an awkward freak.
"Alrighty then," Homelander finally said with a clap of his hands, the leather of his gloves muffling the sound. "I've got a busy schedule ahead of me, and I'm sure you'd like to get back to your book."
"Oh," Y/N managed to breathe out as she stood up from the desk. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you down here again?"
Don't hold your breath, she told herself. Homelander's got more important things to do than entertain you.
"Sure!" he said cheerfully. "If I get the time to, that is. I'll see you around, bookworm."
With a wink and swish of his cape, he turned on his heel and strode right out of the archives, leaving Y/N to stare at his back long after he'd gone. Her heart still hammered in her chest as she slipped back into her seat, her gaze still on the door to the archives.
"Holy shit," she breathed to herself, letting her body deflate and relax. "Holy fucking shit."
The library group chat was not going to believe what had just happened.
Occasional visits turned into weekly visits, which then turned into daily visits. So many visits that Y/N had started to feel that her day wasn't truly complete if she didn't see or talk to Homelander even once. Starlight didn't show up as often since she'd gotten a boyfriend, but she didn't really mind as long as she had her regular Homelander time.
He’d memorised her coffee order fairly quickly, bringing her something every time he visited her along with a vanilla milkshake for himself, and had become happier to talk with her about anything and everything, like he was a real person and not just a persona for the cameras. Conversations with him had become easier and easier with each visit, he felt so easy to talk to at times, safe enough for her to open up more and more to him.
She'd regaled him with just about every story she had from her time working in the public library, each one more outrageous than the last and shattering the illusion that being a library assistant was a 'relaxing' or 'easy' job. Homelander shared some of his stories about missions and Supe life with her, but he always seemed more interested in hearing about her work than he was in sharing his.
That morning, she'd just finished telling him another story about patrons using the public computers for nefarious reasons, a spare chair she'd found for him parked next to her desk. He'd taken his gloves off as soon as he'd sat down, which she took as a sign that he was becoming more and more comfortable being around her too.
“Can I tell you something, Homelander?” she asked, cradling her latte in her hands as the steam floated into her nose.
“Sure, you can tell me anything,” he said as he scooted his chair closer to her.
“Out of everyone I’ve met here, you’re my favourite.”
“Aw, you’re just saying that to flatter me.”
A slight pink blush bloomed over the tops of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose as he tried to hide a grin, awkwardly shuffling in his seat.
"No, I mean it. You’re the only person who’s come to see me pretty much every day. Starlight doesn’t come down as much now that she’s seeing that guy, and Maeve only came in once. I feel like I’ve really found a friend in you.”
"Well, aren't you sweet?" he purred. "I guess we have Starlight to thank for this because if she hadn't been talking about you, I might have never come down here."
Y/N giggled slightly. "I'll make sure to thank her the next time I see her," she said before taking a sip of her latte.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Homelander's expression change, as if he was thinking about something. Something more serious than what they'd been talking about.
"There's something else you can tell me," he said, his voice dropping low as he leaned forward. "Why did you really leave the libraries?"
Y/N stomach dropped. How could he have possibly known what had happened? She knew that he had ways of being able to read her, but there was no way he would be able to find out everything about her. Wasn't there?
She swallowed thickly and tried to steel herself before answering.
"I-I told you before," she stammered out. "I wanted a change of scenery, and this was the best place for me."
"Don't lie to me, bookworm." His voice took on a dangerous tone. "Why would you change your whole life around to work for the Vought archives of all places? All alone, no workers, just sitting down here by yourself for five days a week. It sounds like you're running from something. Or someone."
He's not going to let you drop the subject, she told herself.
"I was being stalked," she finally spat out. "By my ex-boyfriend. We met at work, and I broke up with him over a year ago, but he just wouldn't leave me alone. HR wouldn't do anything about it, so I had to get out of there."
"Is that all he did? Just constantly pester you?"
Y/N turned her eyes away from him, looking down at a scar on her wrist. Just the sight of it alone made her chest tighten, and her skin burn. Memories of being screamed at, held down, scalded and hit flashed in her mind. All those years of being cut off from her friends and family, only allowed to see her coworkers when she was at work, and not being allowed to have her own money. Of only being able to talk to her coworkers when he was there, having every aspect of her life controlled.
Of wanting to jump off the balcony of her apartment just to get away from it all.
"No, he, um," she muttered, looking back at him to try to keep her head on straight. "I don't really like talking about it. But it was bad. Really bad."
That should have been the end of it, but Homelander kept asking her questions: what did he do exactly, how long for, why did it take so long for you to leave?
By that point, Y/N's chest was painfully twisting itself into knots, her lungs burning with each gasping breath she took in. She needed to find a way to get out of this conversation, but she just didn't know how. All she could see in her mind was her old shared apartment, the one with smashed glasses and torn book pages strewn about the floor, screams echoing in her mind and the feeling of a shadow looming over her.
She'd started to withdraw into herself when the feeling of his bare hand over hers pulled her back out into the room. He wore an unreadable expression on his face, but those brilliant blue eyes almost bored into her, as if she were some kind of curiosity.
"You okay?" he asked as he took her hand in his. "Your heart sounds like it's going to explode."
Y/N took a deep breath, forcing her lungs to expand and her heart to slow down. "Sorry. I'm fine," she croaked. "I just really don't like talking about it. Makes me sick. Sorry."
"Hey, it's okay." His voice softened, as if he were talking to a scared kitten. "It's okay, c'mere."
She let him pull her to stand as he joined her at the side of her desk, placing his free hand on her shoulder before roughly pulling her into his chest, her cheek bumping against his suit. It was clumsy, awkward, and not what she'd expected a hug from Homelander to feel like, but she still let herself melt into his touch anyway. He smelt a lot cleaner than she'd imagined, barely a hint of fragrance other than the material of the suit and whatever product was in his hair, and the steady beat of his heart soothed her frayed nerves.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I kind of ruined your visit."
"I told you, it's fine," he said, his voice rumbling in his chest under her ear. "There are things I don't like talking about either."
"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice quieter.
"You apologise a lot. You know you don't have to, right?"
"I know, I'm sor-fuck." He chuckled, his chest shaking. "I've spent so much time apologising for every little thing that I just can't stop."
"Well, from now on, no more apologising. Especially for nothing. Deal?"
Y/N nodded, barely listening to what he said and just focusing on his presence. He was so much warmer than she'd expected him to be, even if he was giving her the stiffest hug known to man. But she never wanted it to end.
How long had it been since someone had held her?
She placed her hands flat on his back, feeling the embossing on his suit and how his chest expanded and contracted with each breath he took. The air whooshing through his lungs rumbled under her ear, and she let the sound continue to soothe her, helping her to forget what had gotten her so rattled in the first place.
Tentatively, he ran his fingers up and down her back, as if he was testing the waters of how she liked to be touched, leaving shivers in their wake. Her eyes drifted closed as she focused on his touch, following his fingertips as they stroked up and down, gently pushing on her to bring her closer to him. Almost as if he wanted the two of them to merge into one.
He was just about to rest his cheek on the top of her head when something made him snap back upright, like a dog hearing a whistle that she couldn't. Her heart stung a little when he took his hands off her and stood back, but as soon as she heard the beep of the security panel on the archives door, she did the same.
"There you are!" a frazzled-sounding woman in a business suit shouted from the entrance, ruining the quiet that they'd been in. "I've been looking for you all day; the meeting started ten minutes ago."
Homelander rolled his eyes and briefly turned to look over his shoulder with a restrained smile.
"Thank you, Ashley," he said, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. "I'll be right there."
The woman scurried away, the door closing with a thud as Homelander turned back to Y/N and put his gloves back on.
"Listen, I've gotta go." Y/N nodded, a little deflated but understanding. "But I'll see you tomorrow. You'll be okay, right?"
"Yeah, I'll be okay," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Thanks for today."
He gave her that smile again: the real one that he seemed to save just for her. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her stomach flipped. She knew that he had his regular duties to tend to, but part of her wished that he could stay in the archives with her all day.
She wished she could stay in his arms forever.
"No problem," he said as his eyes trailed over her face, settling on her lips. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his own, and his fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was trying to keep still. "I'll see you later, bookworm."
She was about to say goodbye to him when he swiftly turned and left the archives, his cape swishing with each footstep. The door clanged behind him, echoing through the empty room. Somehow, it felt colder without him, making Y/N shiver and pull her cardigan further around herself as she made her way back to her desk to continue with what little work she had to do.
Not that she was able to focus on it anyway.
But, at least he'd promised to see her again tomorrow, no longer leaving her alone with her thoughts.
The first time it happened, everyone thought they imagined it.
You were standing in the middle of the meeting room at Vought, flipping through a file while the Seven sat around the table in varying states of boredom. Homelander had been in a mood all morning—cold smile, narrowed eyes, the kind that made assistants suddenly remember appointments elsewhere.
Even Ashley was speaking in that nervous, shaky voice.
And then Homelander started rambling about ratings and public perception and team unity.
You looked up.
“…You’re doing the face again.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Black Noir slowly turned his head.
The Deep blinked.
Ashley looked like her soul had left her body.
Homelander stared at you.
“…What face?”
You pointed at him casually.
“That one. The weird intense one.” You squinted dramatically. “‘I’m trying to look mysterious but I’m mostly just glaring at people’ face.”
Someone dropped a pen.
A-Train physically looked toward the exit.
Because no one—no one—talked to Homelander like that.
No one if they valued breathing.
For a moment nobody moved.
Homelander stared.
Stared.
Long enough that Ashley looked seconds away from crying.
Then—
He smiled.
Not the TV smile.
Not the polished one.
An actual smile.
And he leaned back in his chair.
“…Do I make that face?”
You nodded.
“Constantly.”
Another pause.
Then Homelander actually laughed.
Laughed.
Ashley looked ready to faint.
—
After that, things somehow got worse.
Or weirder.
Depending who you asked.
Because you apparently operated under completely different laws of reality.
Like when Homelander landed after some interview looking irritated enough to vaporize a city block.
Everyone had immediately scattered.
Except you.
Because you walked right up to him holding a coffee.
“Bad day?”
He looked down at you.
“…No.”
“You’ve got grumpy eyebrows.”
“I don’t have grumpy eyebrows.”
“You absolutely have grumpy eyebrows.”
The entire hallway went dead quiet.
A-Train later swore he saw his life flash before his eyes.
But Homelander just stared at you.
Then his expression softened instantly.
“…You brought me coffee?”
You held it out.
“Yeah.”
And somehow—
Somehow—
The terrifying, god-complex, laser-eyed nightmare looked absurdly pleased.
“…Thanks.”
Thanks.
Ashley nearly choked.
—
The Seven started noticing things.
Tiny things.
Like Homelander always standing just a little closer to you.
Or somehow hearing whenever you said his name from three rooms away.
Or the way he’d immediately look for you after missions.
Like a giant, terrifying golden retriever.
One day Maeve cornered you.
“I need you to explain something.”
You blinked.
“What?”
Maeve gestured wildly.
“Him.”
You stared.
“…Homelander?”
“Yes, Homelander.”
You shrugged.
“What about him?”
Maeve looked at you like she’d lost faith in humanity.
“You flicked his forehead yesterday.”
“…Yeah?”
“You flicked. His. Forehead.”
You frowned.
“He was being dramatic.”
Maeve stared.
Long silence.
“…You know I watched him threaten a room full of executives over almond milk once.”
You paused.
“…Oh.”
“…OH?”
—
The real breaking point came during a press shoot.
Homelander had been standing under hot lights for nearly an hour while photographers adjusted everything down to individual strands of hair.
Which meant his patience was gone.
Entirely gone.
The crew looked terrified.
Ashley looked one inconvenience away from a breakdown.
And Homelander had that expression again.
The expression.
You looked up from your phone.
Saw him.
Paused.
Then walked directly over.
Everyone watched in horror.
You reached up—
Grabbed his cheeks—
And squished his face.
“Stop making grumpy eyebrows.”
Absolute silence.
No breathing.
No movement.
No sound.
Ashley made a tiny noise.
The photographer looked ready to pass away.
Homelander stared at you.
His eyes widened slightly.
And for one terrible second everyone thought:
This is it.
Then—
He leaned down.
Just a little.
Enough that only you heard:
“…You know you can ask nicely.”
You blinked.
“…Are you pouting?”
“…No.”
“You are.”
“…Am not.”
The smile he gave you after was ridiculous.
Soft.
Completely unfair.
And every person in the room looked like reality itself had cracked.
Because somehow—
Somehow—
Homelander looked at you like you hung the stars.
Like you could say anything, do anything, and he’d let you.
And later, when Ashley shakily asked how on earth you survived any of this—
You looked genuinely confused.
“What do you mean?”
Across the room Homelander looked over immediately.
The second he heard your voice.
And his entire face softened.
Ashley stared.
Then at you.
Then him.
Then back at you.
“…Oh my God.”
Because suddenly it made sense.
Homelander wasn’t letting you get away with things.
Homelander was completely, hopelessly gone for you.
And everyone else?
Everyone else was just witnessing it in real time.
☆Hi! Could I request a fic for soldier boy x supe!fem!reader please? The scenario I was going for was that the [reader] is homelanders daughter but from a different woman then Ryan's mom and she was born a supe just like Ryan but her powers are to be able to control any type of clothing material (whether it's leather, demin, etc.) Since she was raised by homelander from birth she's kinda messed up and entitled, like she sees humans like "mud-people" as homelander puts it and she has really bad mood swings so she'll be happy and then she'll be pissed off in a snap of a finger. She also has this weird urge/obsession of dissecting people (and sometimes supes too) so she's a little morbid too. Could this be placed in season 5 after homelander wakes soldier boy up and introduces him to the 7 and homelander ends up looking for [reader] because she isn't in the meeting room when it happened and when homelander finally finds her. She's in the middle of dissecting a person alive and homelander just acts completely unphased and introduces soldier boy to [reader] and then she starts asking soldier boy morbid and weird ass questions and all soldier boy can think about while she's ranting/asking questions is "wtf is wrong with this kid?!"☆
Thank you so much for the request! I loved it, I love creepy readers, teehee. I haven’t watched the new season yet, I’m waiting to binge it when it all releases, so there may be some inaccuracies! Sorry this one’s a little shorter! I hope you like it though xo
Warnings: she/her/daughter used,Homelander is your father therefore Soldier boys your grandfather- everything’s platonic. Readers of age, at the least 18, even if that doesn’t make sense canonically we don’t care here lol. Mentions of preserved people, corpses, killing, taxidermy, reader is a straight up murderer tbh, Soldier boy hates his bloodline, superiority complex with reader. Not proof read!
word count: 843
“And this is…” Homelander spun on his heels, looking swiftly around the room before his lip twitched. “Where is my daughter?” His voice lowly drawled out making soldier boy scoff. “You got two of em’? This one as much of a pussy foot as the boy?” Homelander didn’t respond, looking around the room for one of the members to tell him where she was.
When nobody spoke up Homelander nearly lost it, his lips tightening, teeth shining through before he growled. “Just- just, c‘mon.” Homelander verbally stumbled, the stress from the day making this tiny situation the end of the world to him.
He led Soldier Boy down the halls of Vought tower, all the way soldier boy yapped incessantly about what shit was like back in his day, Homelander couldn’t really care less, too focused on what his less then personable daughter was off doing.
Using his x-ray vision he could already see he was walking into a sight. “What’re you lollygagging for, open the fuckin’ door.” Soldier boy spat roughly from behind Homelander, who sneered over his shoulder at the supe. “Ben,” Homelander said in a controlled tone. “Allow me to introduce you to your… granddaughter.”
Homelander grumbled slowly walking forward to where he knew you’d be. “The fuck is this?” Soldier Boy grunted looking at the unique decor; taxidermy, bones, preserved human skin that looked like jerky. “She didn’t come out right.” Homelander mumbled leading coming up to the tarp covered divider where on the other side you could hear the sound of small saw.
Homelander already knew what to expect, glancing back at Soldier boy before pressing through the tarp into the blood bath. “Daughter.” Homelander said, his tone snobby and head held high with a gobsmacked soldier boy inches behind him.
Your head flickered over to the door, your hands busy, slick with blood and the body of some lame ass supe laid out on a steel table. “Father, you wouldn’t believe this, but this supe actually has severe issues,” You huffed with a smile, hands gesturing around the table not even noticing soldier boy.
“This supes brain has tiny little holes in it, like cheese! And his bone structure is degraded like he’s been sawed down, it seems his super powers were killing him… if I hadn’t first.” You rambled, grabbing the sheet to tug over the cadaver.
After a moment of silence where Homelander blinked at you, his lips flattened out with uncertainty, you finally sighed, rolling your eyes. “Whatdaya want I’m busy.” You snarkily hissed, hands on your hips much like Homelander did.
John shook his head swiftly, gritting his teeth before side stepping away from in front of soldier boy, who was too busy staring in disgust and a human head that was preserved. “Who’s that guy? Some other wanna be supe?” You snarked watching as Soldier Boy snapped his head to you, standing straight.
“I’m fucking soldier boy. And unlike your pampered ass I fought for this country.” Soldier boy barked, his finger pointed at you, but you were simply unphased taking a moment to think over the name.
Meanwhile Homelander shook his head looking around your room, at your collection. “Oh my god. You’re my dads dad, you’re my grandad!” You gasped, clapping your bloodied hands together as you walked closer. “It’s so nice to meet you! Oh my god, the war must’ve been crazy, did you know that during the Second World War was when they started embalming soldiers?” You ranted nudging him with your fist in a bro-like manner.
“You were super sick, what’d they do to you up in Russia? Y'know those filthy pigs we call people should've been obliterated the moment you got back,” You huffed angrily, turning to your father. “Why they hell isn’t Vought doing something? We’re above humans, and they encaptured your father?” Homelander raised his hand, jaw clenched as he said your name in a scolding tone.
“You know nothing about politics so just stay out.” Homelander hissed pointing a finger at you before storming off with a soft watch him leaving his lips. Looking back up at soldier boy, who again was looking at you like you were a strange disappointment. “So this is what I get for a family? Two momma’s boys, and a female Ed Gein.” You huffed at his words puffing your chest.
“Well I don’t fuck the corpses thank you. I just kill and take their insides.” You gestured wiping your hands with a nearby towel. “Oh yeah cause that makes it so much better. Yknow back in my day you woulda been kept in a loony bin.” He tutted making you roll your eyes, but his expression was a mixed of uncertainty and bewilderment as he looked around the room.
“Stay away from me, kid.” I gruffly spoke, yanking a joint from his pocket, lighting it before slowly walking away. “I won’t be doing that!” You called out grinning, excited to get to know all the history he was carrying, and maybe keep his body when he died.
Description: Homelander discovers Y/N, his hidden daughter, who has been subjected to experiments like his own, only to realise she isn't afraid of him - and may be the first person to reflect his power back without fear or worship.
He didn't hear a heartbeat at first.
That was what unsettled him.
The lab was supposed to be empty - Vought had assured him of that. Another abandoned wing, another quiet graveyard of bad ideas they didn't want the public to know about. Homelander had come down here out of boredom more than suspicion, capre dragging lazily behind him, red eyes scanning through concrete and steel.
Nothing living.
Nothing worth-
Then, faintly.
A heartbeat.
Small. Steady. Hidden.
He tilted his head, listening harder. Not behind a wall. Not below the floor.
Inside the reinforced observation room.
Homelander smiled, slow and curious. "Well," he murmured, stepping forward, "that's new."
The door didn't open with a code. It didn't open at all - until he decided it would. Metal screamed as he peeled it back like foil.
Inside, the lights flickered on automatically.
And there you were.
Curled up in the corner of a sterile white room, barefoot, dressed in hospital grey. You didn't flinch at the noise. Didn't scream. You just looked up at him.
Calm.
That was the second thing that unsettled him.
Most people cried when they saw him like this - looming, glowing faintly with restrained violence.
You just... watched.
Homelander stepped inside slowly, eyes narrowing as he looked you over. No obvious restraints. No guards. No fear.
"What are you supposed to be?" he asked, voice softer than expected.
You tilted your head slightly, studying him in return. "You're him."
Not fear. Recognition.
His smile sharped. "Yeah. I am."
A pause.
Then you said, simply, "They said you'd come eventually."
Something in his chest tightened - quick, unfamiliar, gone just as fast.
"They say a lot of things," he replied, circling you. "Doesn't mean any of it's true."
You turned to keep him in view, movements controlled, precise. Not like a normal child. Not even close.
"How old are you?" he asked.
You hesitated. "I don't know."
Of course you didn't.
His gaze flicked briefly to the observation glass - dark now, but he knew someone had been watching, once. Studying. Recording.
Testing.
On you.
He looked back at you, slower this time.
"What did they do to you?"
You didn't answer right away. Instead, you raised your hand - hesitant - and pressed your palm flat against the wall.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the surface beneath your hand cracked.
Not shattered - controlled. Fractures spiderwebbed outward, precise, deliberate, stopping just short of collapse.
Homelander froze.
Not because of the damage.
Because of how carefully you'd done it.
You lowered your hand. "They said I had to learn control," you said quietly. "Or I'd hurt people."
That tightness in his chest returned. Stronger now.
Control.
He let out a soft, humourless chuckle. "Yeah," he muttered. "They love that word."
You watched him again, searching his face. "Did they do it to you too?"
The question landed harder than anything else in the room.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Didn't move.
Then he smiled - but it wasn't the one the cameras loved.
"Worse," he said.
Silence stretched between you.
Then, carefully, you asked, "Are you here to take me back?"
Back.
The word echoed wrong.
His jaw tightened. He glanced at the door, then back at you.
"No," he said.
The answer came faster than he expected.
Your shoulders relaxed - just a fraction.
"Good," you whispered.
Another pause.
Then, quieter: "They said you wouldn't care."
Homelander blinked.
Something sharp flickered in his eyes.
"Oh?" he said softly. "And what do you think?"
You hesitated again - longer this time.
Then you said, "I think... they were wrong."
The room felt smaller suddenly.
He stared at you - really stared now. They way you held yourself. The way you didn't beg, didn't fear, didn't worship.
You just... believed something better.
Something about him.
Dangerous.
He should have crushed that immediately.
He should have laughed. Walked away. Proved them right.
Instead, he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your level.
Close enough now to hear your heartbeat clearly.
Steady.
Strong.
Familiar.
"...Who told you about me?" he asked.
"They all did," you said. "They said you were the strongest. That you survived everything."
A beat.
"They said I was like you."
His expression shifted - subtle, but real.
"Yeah?" he murmured.
You nodded.
Another pause.
Then, very quietly, you asked, "Am I?"
Homelander stared at you.
At the cracks in the wall.
At the absence of fear.
At the way you were waiting - not for approval, but for truth.
And for once, he didn't deflect.
"...Yeah," he said.
The word came out rougher than expected.
"You are."
Your lips curved - small, tentative, but real.
And something in him - something buried under years of conditioning, cameras, and control - shifted.
Not softened.
Not healed.
But... recognised.
He stood, offering his hand without thinking.
"Come on," he said.
You looked at his hand, then back at his face. "Where are we going?"
His smile returned - but quieter now. Less performance. More promise.
"Anywhere but here."
You reached out.
Took his hand.
Your grip was stronger than it should've been.
He didn't pull away.
As he led you out of the broken room, alarms finally begin to blare - too late, as usual.
