Characters: Starlight, Queen Maeve, Billy Butcher, Hughie Campbell, Black Noir, Soldier Boy, and Homelander
Warnings: Mild mention of choking in the Soldier Boy one, other than that, all family friendly!
A/N: I haven't written in so long I'm sorry! I'm totally burned out at work, but I will do my very best to stay on schedule. Enjoy, and let me know what you want to see me post!
~
Starlight
Annie would be so nervous to make the first move.
You had been seeing each other for a while, and it was almost awkward how bad you wanted to kiss each other, but just kept avoiding it.
Finally, you realized you would have to make the first move.
So you did. As you gently placed your lips to hers and gave her a quick peck, she'd grab the back of your head and deepen it, molding your lips together as if they were meant to be.
After that, you had no issues making out.
Queen Maeve
Maeve would make you so nervous.
After your first date, she would walk you home through side streets and alleys, trying to avoid getting recognized.
When she found a quiet spot away from everyone, she grabbed you by the waist and whirled you around to face her. She would push you against the wall and put her hand up to trap you in, a cocky grin on her face.
She would crash into you and take every bit of you, making you forget everything else in the world.
It would be the perfect end to the perfect night.
Billy Butcher
You know your first kiss with Billy would be savage.
He would pull your hair back and force you into him, starved for the love he missed.
He would devour you whole, taking every bit of resistance away and melting you into his arms.
Hughie Campbell
God, your first date with Hughie would not go smoothly.
Everything seemed wrong. You were supposed to go on a hike, and it poured rain and thunderstorms. You decided to go to a restaurant, and poor Hughie couldn't get his card to work and you ended up paying.
The food was bland and the conversation was boring, as if something was off.
Which is weird for the two of you, as you had been friends for years and never had this issue.
"This should go down in history as the worst date ever." Hughie finally breaks the silence as he walks you home, the chill in the air making you shiver.
"It wasn't that bad," you try to make him feel better, but he saw right through it.
He would stop and look at you before placing a quick kiss on your lips, his nervousness clear in the action.
"Well, that certainly improved my night," you laugh as he blushes.
Black Noir
Your first kiss would be quick, but the most meaningful moment you've had so far.
This is because it's the first time he took his mask off for you. He wouldn't say anything, not yet, but he would show his passion for you with the way he desperately holds your face and devours you.
It would last for what felt like forever, and you were thankful he trusted you enough to show you his scars.
It would, however, make you hate Soldier Boy for what he did to your love.
Black Noir deserved everything good in the world after everything he did for you.
Soldier Boy
Ben doesn't know the meaning of the word gentle.
He would ruin you with just a simple kiss.
He would hold you against the bed with a hand around your neck, making your head light as he took control.
"Do you want me to stop?" He pulled back to ask you, his thumb running along your jawline.
"No," you would answer, in just a whisper. "Kiss me again."
And of course, he was happy to make you feel good. Over, and over, and over again.
Homelander
John would be afraid to hurt you.
He knows his strength is too much at times, and you were very easy to break.
He would talk you through every step of the way as his hand brushed your cheek and he slowly leaned in, letting you lead the kiss as your lips finally touched.
It would be slow and gentle, the way his hands held you and felt up and down your body would be earth-shattering.
If you weren't in love already, you certainly were now.
bad days are a constant to him, but your presence is, thankfully, a constant as well.
❤️🔥 homelander x supe!fem!reader | established relationship, graphic mentions of dark content (violence, death, reader isn’t the best person out there either), hurt/comfort, reader’s powers aren’t specified (nor does she “work” as a supe), no plot/slice of life
note: hey! just an angsty drabble to open this new blog. hope you guys like it!
-
There is a thick mist glazing over the city as he arrives at his place, just a little before the setting sun takes shelter behind the skyline. Homelander is beyond exhausted, as he usually is, and he feels like the weight on his shoulders might be a little too heavy for him to handle. There aren’t powers in the world that can soften the blow of being paraded around like a caged animal for an entire day — photographed, talked to relentlessly, groped — and there’s nothing he can’t do but endure it.
It’s a divine joke, really. That he is much stronger than everyone else, and yet he has to settle for this game of pretend. They take everything from him, and he scrapes for all the compliments and looks of awe that he can get. But even that is starting to get old.
“Let me guess, bad day?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. He finds you instantly, wearing only an oversized shirt and taking a sip from your coffee. “You look like you’re about to lazer through me.”
He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t work, remember?” Homelander tries to play it off. You don’t buy it. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Bad day, horrible. Ashley should be grateful that she isn’t in a coffin right now, I’ve already — I’ve already told her how much I hate these stupid interviews.”
You smile, putting your cup down. The act alone makes something stir up inside him. “Vought magazine, right?”
He rolls his eyes. “They couldn’t come up with an original name and they want me to pretend like I care.”
“I don’t know how you manage,” your sarcasm is lost on him, for he only sighs and nods vigorously. “But come on. You’re with me now, magazine be damned. We should enjoy our night.”
“Stupid fucking animals — primates, all of them,” Homelander continues to complain, turning his back to you. He places his hands on his hips and looks over the city that expands just beyond his window. “I could kill all of them with one blow.”
You come behind him, giggling at his hissy fit. John is such a manchild, you can’t take these comments seriously (even if you’ve seen enough proof that they’re not only vacant threats).
“Baby, I know that. They know that. That’s why they love and respect you so much,” you reason. Your arms wrap around his waist and Homelander tenses — then relaxes, melting into your touch. You rest your cheek against his broad back, the vague scent of ashes and blood dancing in your nose. Even if he cleans it, you can still catch it: magazine interviews weren’t everything he did today. But you won’t pry, you don’t really care that much. “If Ashley pushes you through another interview, she’ll have to answer to me. And I’m much meaner and harder to please.”
That manages to tear a laugh from him. “Glad you know that.” He turns around and runs one hand through your hair. His blue eyes went from a dark storm to a calm sea, always a good sign that you’re managing to get to his rational (softer) side. “Thank you.”
You smile and kiss him briefly. In your mind, there’s a clear distinction between Homelander and John, and when you manage to make him click out of his “super-better-than-you” mindset, you’ve won.
The next hour passes by in a routine that you’ve grown used to — a warm shower, the brief cleaning of fast-healing wounds, a passing comment about the sprinkles of blood in his blonde hair. There’s an unspoken knowledge between the two of you about the true nature of the man standing before you and, just as clearly, the notion that you don’t mind it. Maybe that’s why Homelander enjoys your company so much: you don’t judge, you don’t care. He doesn’t know if you look down on non-supes as much as he does, but the bottom line is that you don’t care enough about a few casualties that manage to brighten his day. And that’s enough for him.
“And they were able to cover up that alley situation, right?” You ask randomly as he turns off the shower. John scoffs. “I mean, yeah, I know they always do, but usually things don’t go that south. Starlight looked like she was in shock when I saw her enter the building.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
But it was. The alley situation in question was a mission that the seven were assigned to last week — something about bombs and gun traffic at the dark corners of the city. It was supposed to be a clean-cut mission: get in, neutralize the threat, look for victims, get out. There was one aggravating factor, however: Homelander was having the worst day in weeks, and you were out of town. One thing led to another and at some point the mission turned from “stopping the evil men” to “controlling the unhinged Homelander before he blew up an entire neighborhood”. The destruction was so massive that it was easy to pass it off as a massive bomb activation, but a few surrounding cameras told a different story. The devil works hard but Vought works harder — though, it’s hard to stop a video from spreading after it’s uploaded somewhere.
“Just wanna know if they asked you about it during the interview, that’s all,” you say, reaching for the towels. You could say that you’ve seen it stir up quite the frenzy online, but you knew better than that. As much as you were able to calm down John from a few hissy fits, you knew that the public hatred was stronger than a few soothing words from your end. “I know you always answer the right things and I—“
“So there’s nothing to worry about,” he interrupts. “I don’t know how you can just walk around and live like one of these… worms. Makes me think that you like them more than your own kind.”
In the end, it always comes down to this little mind game: us or them. Homelander or the rest of the world.
“Well, first of all, I don’t think I have what it takes to be in the spotlight, I’m not as good as you,” you start off strong, with a caress to his ego. His blue eyes are frozen in place, staring deep inside your soul for any sign of lies. As much as he can’t lazer through your head, he could break your neck if he tried. And, once again, there’s a thin line between love and hate when it comes to him. “Second… I know my worth regardless of what I choose to do. It’s not because I work amongst non-supes that I see myself as one of them. I like what I do.” Your hand reaches out for his cheek, and he rests his head on your hand. “Besides, I already have everything I want right here. No supe or non-supe world could ever compete, so why even bother?”
Homelander’s eyes stay locked in for another second, not one line of expression on his face. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, finally adverting his gaze. “I like having you home when I arrive,” is all he answers — in his words: I like you’re not out there when I need you.
“And I’ll always be home for you,” you say, smile growing on the corners of your lips.
Summary: Reader comes home to her father drunk and in a bad mood, he hurts her pretty bad before Homelander shows up and handles it, thinking a strange man had broken in and started hurting you.
Warnings: Abuse from parent, Homelander is a warning himself, and mention of violent death.
Word Count: 1.0k
A/N: I have been going through such a rough time lately, I just need to write something fucked up to get myself out of this rut. This is going to be a longer story, part one of a few. I hope those of you who need something messed up can enjoy.
~
READER'S POV
"You're home late," his voice boomed through the tiny apartment, making you wince as you heard the slur in his tone. He had been drinking again, and he sounded pissed off already.
You answered quietly, "I'm sorry. There was a big table that came in right when-"
"Did you have time to text me?" He snapped back, clearly not in any mood to hear you out. "A call? Anything letting me know my own daughter is okay?"
"It won't happen again, sir." You looked down at your feet as he approached, his freakishly tall figure towering over you. You tried to keep your face neutral as you waited for his next move, biting back the fear that tingled in your core. "I'm sorry," you added.
Your body was flung backwards as your father pushed you against the wall, his elbow digging painfully into your collarbone. "You're fucking sorry? Just like you're sorry you don't have the rent money this month, you pathetic little bitch?"
It was hard to control your breathing as you saw the wild anger in his eyes, a look you knew well. You heard the sting of the slap before you felt it, and you knew if he hadn't been holding you up you would have fallen from the force. You bit back your squeal and slammed your eyes closed to keep the tears from falling.
It only got worse when you cried.
"I- I have the rent money," you babbled, cringing your head down to try and avoid his angry gaze.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Your father snarled, pulling you away from the wall before slamming you back into it. "Are you really talking back?"
You shook your head, which was pounding from the knock you just took. You blinked as you felt yourself falling, and then the searing pain of a foot into your ribs. Perhaps you were delirious and imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard your own bones break under his touch.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, though not sure to who, your father for ruining his life, or the universe for being born in the first place.
Maybe it was finally your time. Your father had come pretty damn close to killing you before, just like he did your mother.
Maybe people would notice when you disappear.
Maybe the pain will stop as blackness finally takes you, his insults and anger fading into the background and becoming a distant memory.
You smiled as your hand gently brushed the water. The lake was still today, the fish visible through the calmness. This was your favourite kind of day to sit on the rocky beach, sunny and quiet. No howling of the wind, no wetness of the rain, no discomfort from the snow.
It was perfect.
Someone sat behind you, playing with your hair with a loving sort of touch. You felt each tense muscle in your body unravel as you relaxed, the hands running through your scalp gently massaging as they went.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
You tried to turn around, curious who would say such a thing. Just as your eyes met, the blurry face faded away, leaving you with a cold, empty, unsettling feeling.
The water began to ripple as the wind picked up, and strands of hair blocked your vision as you tried to look up to the sky.
"Hello?" You shouted out, climbing to your feet as you searched for somewhere safe to go. You suddenly didn't know where you were or how you got there, and -
Your eyes snapped open, and you groggily took in the disaster around you. The furniture had been tossed around, the coffee table broken in half, pictures ripped off the walls and shattered.
What the hell?
You could hear unfamiliar voices shouting, though your head was pounding too much to locate much of anything. Your entire body ached, and you were parched. You tried to swallow, but only ended up making a strangled sound.
"Oh good, you're up. Let's go."
~
HOMELANDER'S POV
She looked scared. Terrified, actually. There's no way she doesn't know who I am, everybody knows who I am. Yet I'd be afraid to pick her up right now in case she were to piss herself.
"Can you move? Do you need help?" I ask, slowly bending down on my knee to get to her level.
"W-what are you doing h-here?" The girl managed to stutter out, her voice breaking as she did.
I shrugged, "well, I was out on patrol, and I thought I heard a disturbance." I paused, trying to gauge the blank look on her face. "I tried knocking, but when nobody answered I entered, and found a man claiming to be your father beating you. I took care of it."
She turned white. Her palms hit the ground as she tried (and failed) to get herself off the ground with a strangled gurgle.
"Hey, hey," I said, reaching out to help her to her feet. She let me steady her before letting go, despite the wince of pain in her expression. "Take it easy, it looks like you took a few hits."
"What do y-you mean you took care of it?" She said slowly, not blinking as she stared at my chest. "That was my father."
I blinked, thinking of the now headless man that lay upstairs, and the bloody mess I had left around him. "Let's get you out of here and then talk."
I couldn't let her see my mistake, even if the piece of shit deserved it.
Summary: Fluff with reader and Homelander, then reader gets bad news.
Warnings: ehhh the usual, read at your own risk.
Word Count: 0.8k
A/n: I finally finished part two... yay!
~
HOMELANDER'S POV
She was so fucking beautiful when she was asleep. To be fair, I had only really seen her awake once, and she was in shock for most of that. She had been sleeping off her wounds, though once I had her examined it turned out it was really just a concussion that she had. Nothing broken, only severely bruised.
(Y/n) (Y/l/n). Twenty-four year old waitress at some shitty diner near her old house. I had a thorough background check done on her on day one, of course. Once she was cleared I could relax a bit with a strange woman sleeping in my bed.
Nobody was happy about it. Homelander kidnapping a woman after killing her father? Not exactly a good look. But she was just so... broken. And I wanted to see if I could put the pieces back together.
Perhaps if I could fix her, it would help fix myself in turn.
She had been asleep for three days now, only waking to stumble to the bathroom and back. She would barely drink and refused to eat, despite my attempts.
Suddenly, she shot up in bed, wild eyed-and heavily breathing. She glanced around, suddenly realizing she had no idea where she was, and began to panic.
I quickly went to the bed and sat next to her. "Hey, hey, it's okay," I said reaching my arm out as if to let a stray dog sniff me. She seemed on guard when she was awake, not really trusting of anyone. "You're in my home. You're safe."
Had she been having a nightmare? I should have heard her elevated heart rate and smelled the thin layer of sweat on her, but I didn't. Not until I sat next to her, rubbing her back to calm her from whatever horrors her mind played for her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked her, trying to hide my awkwardness. I had no idea how to comfort anyone, it's not like anyone ever comforted me before.
She shook her head, but didn't lean away from my touch. That would have to be a start.
"Can I have a shower?" She said it so quietly only my super senses picked up on it, but I heard her.
"Of course, you can have whatever you need." I respond, wondering if she would let me wash her. I doubted it, she barely knew me, but wow I wanted to do everything for her.
I wanted her to be mine.
I had no idea what this sudden infatuation with a human girl is, but I wasn't one to fight my instincts, and something deep in my bones was telling me (Y/n) needed my protection for something.
I wondered if it was just from her father, or if it was from herself as well.
READER'S POV
"Thanks," you mumbled, suddenly aware you had forgotten it moments ago.
Homelander lead you to the bathroom and pointed out towels and toiletries, then showed you how to work the shower. Once you were locked in and alone, you undressed, your body still sore from your father.
Where was your father? Why hadn't he come for you yet? How long had you been asleep? You recalled waking a few times and groggily drinking a glass of water, then using the toilet, but you were unsure how much time had passed.
You turned on the hot water, waited a moment, and climbed in, the steam releasing your tense muscles. You let it drip down your hair, your face, your torso, your legs. You washed yourself of everything that hurt.
You wrapped yourself in the fluffy towel once you were done, taking some time to dry your hair with a second one. You left the bathroom, nervous to ask for clean clothing, but he already had sweats laid out on the bed for you.
"Did you want something to eat?" Homelander asked from behind you. You nodded and he smiled, "I'll order from wherever you like."
"Taco bell?" You asked quietly. It had been so long since you'd eaten out, you didn't know what else to ask for.
He laughed before answering. "Of course." He pulled out his phone and typed out a message. "Is there anything in specific?"
"No. Just a soft shell taco," you hurried to add, "please."
He finished the message and you heard a 'send' sound before he slipped his phone away. "We have to talk."
Your blood ran cold. You hated that phrase, it usually ended bad for you. "Oh?" You managed.
Homelander took a deep breath before he said the words that made your world shatter.
