#FUCK VOGELBAUM
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“After you raised me like a fucking lab rat” SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
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I think Jonah Vogelbaum should die a million deaths and the I think he should die them all again, only backwards, for what he did to that little boy.
#'kevin is the worst person!'#'butcher is the worst person!'#'HL is the worst person!'#'SB is the worst person!'#bitch NO!#JONAH FUCKING VOGELBAUM IS THE WORST PERSON#vought thoughts#the boys
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soldier boy: turns out, vogelbaum made a kid
that one stupid part of my brain: he got vogelbaum pregnant??
the other part of my brain: NO YOU FUCKING IDIOT HE USED HIS DNA
#why the fuck does my mind go to these places lol#soldier boy#the boys strike back#tv: the boys#the boys#the boys tv#the boys amazon#the boys spoilers#the boys season 3#the boys season 3 spoilers#the boys s3#the boys s3 spoilers#vogelbaum#jonah vogelbaum#homelander
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#Homelander#Homelander polls#fantasticpant’s tags put me up to this#like we all know vogelbaum was the fucking worst#making this worst parent and including him here would make this poll so boring#but who comes in second place?#the boys#the boys polls#I have a million things to do which is why I’m on tumblr so much this weekend
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The Mentor and The Mirror (Homelander x Reader)
700 words, similar powers!reader, gender neutral reader.
Ask prompt: What if Homelander was "given" someone, by the higher ups of Vaught, to mentor? They have powers like his, but are a bit weaker and different. What Homelander doesn't know is that they are from the lab like him.
If he found out this person grew up like him, do you think he'd be meaner or sympathetic to them?
“Someone could kill you with a sneeze. They really think you’re worth training?” He asks bitterly. You two have been out in this field for hours now, and he’s fucking over it.
Well, for the most part.
There’s something endearing and fun about teaching your pet new tricks. See, they’d told him flat out that you were his to mentor, but all he heard was you’re his. The sentence stopped there.
You’re a peculiar thing, equipped with all of his same abilities, except that you lack invulnerability. You’re a liability for crime fighting, but those fucks on the board of directors already made their choice. Besides, either he trains you or Stan will be an ever present thorn in his side. Last thing he wanted was to deal with that asshole.
“Why the fuck can’t you fly yet? Just do it,” he gestures with his hand, “like a… I don’t know, a normal person?”
“Sorry-” You blurt out, accidentally flipping upside down. “I uh, they didn’t let me practice much in the rooms growing up. Ten foot ceilings, you know?”
He blinks rapidly at that, cocking his head slightly. What rooms?
Homelander stores that little bit of information away for later, chuckling instead as you plummet to the ground and land on your ass.
You groan pitifully. This has been absolutely awful.
“I don’t think I can do it…” You murmur dejectedly, sitting upright. “It’s hard.”
Now that bothers him. No student of his is going to fail and make him look bad, and you’re certainly not going to make him have another fucking meeting with Stan. He rolls his eyes in exasperation before leaning down to lift you.
“Wh–”
You’re weightless in his arms as he spins, winding up to–
“N- NO, NO, NO!” You shout as he hurls you into the sky. You flap your arms and legs, begging your powers to work as you ascend past the clouds, further and further until the air gets thin and the world below is square patches of various greens.
“Always gotta do these things the hard way,” Homelander muses, clicking his tongue below.
You continue falling, tears spilling as you plummet faster than you can gather yourself. You see your life flash before your eyes until–
Oh.
You flex your shoulders back and suck in a breath, and suddenly…
“About fucking time!”
He’ll never admit it, but the excitement on your face and the hug you give him makes him so fucking proud of you.
Later that night, he delves into your files. Madelyn’s access codes still work, and he finds your full file with ease. Your record is squeaky clean. No past employment, no education, no family records…
There’s nothing.
And that’s how he knows.
He knows exactly what you meant earlier, and he knows exactly where you came from.
He knows because that’s how his file looks, too.
He knows because he came from there, too.
The next day, when you excel with laser practice, he’s proud, but he’s also resentful. You’re not just his student now; you’re him. You’re a physical reminder of everything he’s gone through.
He hates you for it.
But he hurts for you, too.
It breaks his heart when you pass the medical ward and shuffle closer to him.
He used to do that, but there was never anyone walking with him.
The next time you two are out in that field, he’s much more patient despite how much it grates his nerves to watch you flounder in the air again.
He looks at you and suddenly he’s back there. Remembers when the doctors would correct his mistakes with enough electrical voltage to actually hurt him.
It always made the lights flicker. Made the room smell terrible– all hot and rotten.
He hears Vogelbaum’s voice.
Not good enough, John. Do it again.
He’s angry that you clearly weren’t subjected to the same. How the fuck was that fair?
And yet…
He’s so fucking happy knowing you weren’t.
If nothing else… they clearly didn’t hurt you as much as they hurt him.
This time, when you fall, he catches you.
Just like he wished someone would have done for him.
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Homelander x SingleMom!Reader
Building a Family
Homelander was walking to the daycare inside Vought. He did not think he would ever have to come down here, but he couldn't leave Ryan alone, and Ryan expressed clear displeasure about having to sit in Ashley's office. Ryan complained that Ashley smelled weird. Homelander understood what his son meant. Ashley consistently reeked of anxiety and fear. Of course, Ryan wouldn't recognize those smells; he was only ten years old. Homelander felt a pang of jealousy at Ryan's childhood innocence. He never had that opportunity. Dr. Vogelbaum and the rest of the scientists who raised him in the lab made sure of that.
Homelander entered the daycare area, and the few children left were chattering away. A little girl wearing a Homelander shirt ran up to him, giggling and reaching for him as if she wanted to be picked up. Homelander brushed past the girl and headed to the area for older children. Ryan walked over with a shy and somewhat awkward smile on his face. Homelander asked, "Hey, buddy, are you ready to head back up?" Ryan didn't say anything; he just nodded in response. Homelander understood that Ryan was probably overstimulated from being around screaming kids all day.
As they were walking out of the daycare are Homelander noticed the little girl from earlier hugging onto your leg while you chat with a daycare attendant. He recognized you as one of the top professionals on Vought's legal team. You were attractive, for a human, but you were still a human, even though your non-disclosure agreements had practically saved the image of the Seven. The little girl spotted Homelander and ran to him, clinging to his leg. You quickly scolded the girl, saying, "Sweetie, get off of him!" Homelander flashed his classic smile and lifted the little girl off his leg, while Ryan watched, somewhat annoyed and eager to go home. Homelander reassured you, saying, "It's alright; I'm glad to see I'm still popular with the kids."
You reached out for your daughter, saying, "She just really likes you. She has one of those huggable Homelander dolls and sleeps with it every night." Ryan quietly asks his dad if they can leave. Homelander seemed amused by your young daughter being a big fan of his and replied, "Oh, really? She must be my biggest fan, then." Homelander waved dismissively at you and your daughter, saying, "You two ladies have a nice night."
That night, Homelander thought about you. Perhaps you were more attractive than he had initially thought, and he couldn't help but notice your good physique. Even if you were just a human you could still be useful. You clearly possessed some good qualities and had the aptitude to be a good mother for Ryan if the situation arose. He decided to keep an eye out for you because he couldn't afford to appear desperate and let you know he was attracted to you. After all, he was Homelander, and you should come to him. However, your presence began to consume his senses and thoughts.
He smelled your perfume and your natural scent in the halls of Vought, heard your voice above all others, and occasionally saw you through the floors, unintentionally getting an up-skirt view when he used his X-ray vision to look up through the floors in your office. But you weren't showing any interest in him, which irked him more than anything. Homelander considered himself a god, and he believed that any woman would want him if given the chance. So, why weren't you pursuing him or trying to arrange to see him again when picking up your daughter from daycare?
Fed up with the situation, he stormed into your office. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked in an aggressive tone. You responded with uncertainty, "Sorry?" not sure what he was talking about.
"Don't play fucking cute. You've been avoiding me. Are you a lesbian? Or, God forbid, celibate?" Homelander inquired with furrowed brows. You didn't know how to respond. This man had the power to do terrible things, and saying the wrong thing could be disastrous for you and your daughter. Homelander continued, "I can't believe a woman like you is passing up the chance with someone like me. We're not even in the same league. No, I won't accept it. I'm coming to your house tomorrow, and we're having a date. Find a sitter for your daughter; just make sure she's not there. Nothing ruins the mood more than a child running around. If things go well, we can introduce our children to each other at the right time and become one big happy family."
With that, he left, without asking for your address or inquiring about your relationship status. You were shaken up, but at least you were still alive.
#homelander x you#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander fanfiction#homelander x single mom#singlemom!reader#mom reader#the boys x reader#the seven x reader#the seven#the boys#male x reader#male x female reader#female reader#reader x homelander#reader x character#this was yandere x reader but i didnt know if this would classify as a yandere fic
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All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed
Pairing: Homelander x Supe!Reader
Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, Homelander being a stalker, innocent reader, naive reader, Homelander being a basic menace, first time writing for this fandom, also experimenting a new writing style
Words: 5688
Summary: Along with the existence of Ryan, there was another secret being kept from Homelander that he manages to rip out of Vogelbaum's throat: he has a sister.
Part 2
The house was quaint, way too fucking perfect in Homelander's opinion. Just like all the other mansions on the block. When he went back to Vogelbaum to find out the REAL truth about Becca, he'd forced Jonah to tell him anymore lies that were being kept from him. He hadn't anticipated there being a second secret: Homlander has a sister. Rare to be caught speechless, he leaves Vogelbaum's massive mansion. What else was Vought hiding from him? Not just Vought, but Madelyn as well. She'd lied to Homelander before. Now he'd take things into his own control.
From the slip of information Vogelbaum wheezed out , Homelander remembers the address. Stares at the numbers in front of the house that matches what Johan said. Architecture reeks of wealth. He didn't have to peek into the large bay windows to know that each corner dripped with elegance as was appropriate for a big time Vought executive. You were granted an entirely different life than what Homelander suffered from. Raised with loving parents who encouraged you to cultivate your powers in a positive way. Dinner was a sit down affair where everyone discussed highlights of the day. An authentic family unit. After discovering the truth of both you and Becca, he raided the archives for more information about her. Birth records, school reports, personal notes of progress from the adopted parents. Doted on. If only he had knowledge of you sooner. Homelander missed out on having a genuine bond to someone. A person he could truly call his own.
Superhuman eyes detect multiple people in the house. No worries. Once he presents himself, they won't deny him anything. Unless they want to end up like Stillwell and many others.
Insurmountable confidence has his gloved hand wrapping knuckles against the wood of the front door. He clasps his hands behind his back and waits. Scattering voices whisper amongst the other before feet lumber down several steps of stairs. A moment passes before the locks on the doors click open to reveal the stereotypcial dowdy housemaid. What a cliche.
Her eyes damn near pop out of her head, her mouth pulling into an ecstatic smile. Good, didn't look like there'd be much resistance. He didn't even get a chance to open his mouth before the maid pulls him in. "Oh she'll be SO delighted to see you Homlander! Please- wait here while I get her!" She frantically calls up the stairs, using the name he knew belonged to you, his sister. A sudden pang of warmth pleasantly grips him at the knowledge that you were already a fan of him. Maybe even admired Homelander. That makes him stand a bit taller.
At the top of the stairs, there you stood. You didn't believe in Diane when she told you the Homelander was at the front door. Even as you stare at him with your own striking cornflower blue eyes, your mind melts and you still don't believe what you see before you; that he's there in the flesh until his grin broadens. A brush stroke of awestruck sweeps across his expression.
Homelander found you absolutely perfect. And the smile that broke out on your own face took his breath away. An authentic smile of his own graces his facial muscles. You were a vision before him. Utter helplessness renders speech useless as he simply stares right into you. There must be a blush on your face, how could there not be one when he's staring so intently at you. He was bigger and better in real life. A wider range of emotions more available on his face opposed to the mask you saw him wear sometimes on screen. Stiff and uncomfortable. This one was even more appealing. His smile made his blue eyes crinkle with delight.
"Wow." You breathe out and feel Diane eagerly bounce behind you. "It's really you!" As fast as your mouth could go, you introduce yourself and Diane despite Homelander already knowing your name, birthdate and social security number. Whatever information he could get on you. Not even in his imagination could he truly conjure you up though.
Bringing him to the drawing room with a small tug on his gloved hands, you beam at him and say that your mom would be so excited to meet him. The light of your face makes his heart melt, something he long believed he didn't possess.
Seated already on a cream colored couch was your mom. She drops her cup and saucer, letting it shatter against the ground. Eyes incredulously wide but not with enthusiasm like you assume they'd be. Your grin drops a bit when you realize she's scared. Of what? Certainly not Homelander. Couldn't be. She'd been perfectly fine when you passed by the sitting room a few moments before heading upstairs.
Immediately the maid scrambles to clean up the mess, chirping apologies as she gathers the pieces up in her apron before scuttling away to dispose of the broken porcelain pieces.
"Homelander," your mom's voice came out as a squeak. "What a surprise to see you." She blinks out of nervousness.
"Thought I would treat Vought's wonderful executive crew with a surprise visit!" Businessman smile activated, Homelander goes on with some well rehearsed corporate bull crap spiel about how Vought appreciated all of their wonderful workers. He could practically lap at the fear emanating from your mom as she sat tightlipped against frilly decorative throw pillows. That could only mean she was in on the secret too and knew who you really were. Most importantly why he was there. She must have known that when he eventually found out, he would come.
Your mom's smile is frigid as her hand is clamped down on your forearm. "What an honor, thank you Homelander." You could tell she wanted him gone. With your own incredible olfactory receptors, you could smell her sweat too.
Hands behind his back in his usual resting stance, Homelander admits "I do have another reason for coming here too." Boots squeak as he takes just one simple step closer that has your mom's nails digging into you. It didn't hurt you but from her white knuckles she was definitely using all her strength. "A little bird told me you're special, like me."
Admittedly you beam with pride when he spoke of you being special like him. When your powers start to grow you were thrilled to find out that you had the exact powers that Homelander, the greatest superhero in the world!
Coyly and not wanting to come off as arrogant, you flutter your gaze down to your lap. "Well, I'm still nowhere near your league." Just to show off a little, you make your eyes sizzle red with heat vision that Homelander also possessed. His smile widens at your display of superability.
"How would you like to train at Vought with the Seven? You'll have the best of the best as your teachers."
He'd said it so easily you didn't take him seriously the first time. Blinking at him until it dawned on you. "R-Really?"
"Honey, this is all very sudden. Lets wait for your father to come home." She attempts to placate you but now all you can think about is the possibility of training alongside the rest of the Seven. Immediately you want to remind her that you were an adult and could take up this offer with or without your father's permission.
You don't have to because Homelander smoothly lies to her face. "Oh, no need to worry about that. Your husband already gave the go ahead!"
Her brows scrunch in a disbelieving frown. "He did?" She couldn't out right accuse the Homelander of lying.
"Of course! He was ecstatic at the opportunity his little girl would have." His tone is syrupy sweet. He couldn't show how annoyed he was with your mom. If he had informed the patriarch of your family, he doubts the man would have objected. Not to Homelander at least. They could go crying to Stand Edger for all he cared. Vought's CEO was just as powerless in stopping him once he has his mind set on something. Try as they might. Madelyn Stillwell came close to being able to manipulate him, but he'd melted her face off days prior so there was no use in Edger wielding her as a weapon.
Now you're the one clawing at your mom's arm. "Did you hear that! He said I could go! I gotta pack!" Hopping to your feet, in the blink of an eye you're dashing out of the living room and up the stairs before your mom could stutter out another word. It was just her and Homelander now with the occasional house help peeking into the living room to catch a glimpse of the glorious leader of the Seven. Visibly she swallows thickly, her eyes stare at Homelander with unrelenting fear.
"What? Did you really expect me not to find out?" Cheery smile not leaving his face, his voice reveals the sneer that he so wished to deliver to her. As it was he was keeping his voice down in case you had superhearing like he did.
The rims of her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She had to be the same age Madelyn was before he killed her. "I-I thought we had more time. Please don't take her. Please. You can come see her as much as you want. You have that right as her b-brother. But please- leave her with us." Practically gasping as she keeps her panic in control. Lines around her lips tremble. Homelander takes in her pathetic form.
"Tell me, do you love her?"
That makes her tears roll freely down her face. "I do. We do. She's a good girl. S-She wants to be a superhero, wants to protect people and use her powers for good. Please don't take her!"
Homelander snaps. "Quit your fucking blubbering."
Her mouth instantly zips shut, knowing what he did to Stillwell. Her husband had warned her early on about the real Homelander. He wasn't the perfect hero that the media painted him as. Even if you were upstairs, he wouldn't hesitate to come back and kill her. He's paused for a moment, listening to the pitter patter of your feet above. Happy that you were still busy and not paying attention to what was going on downstairs.
False saccharine face goes back up. "There's no reason for tears. You've done your job. Said so yourself that she's a good girl. She's a young adult though and doesn't need her mommy and daddy poking around in her business. Not to mention the big secret you and your husband are keeping from her."
Leaning over her, he sinisterly utters under his breath "She's coming with me. Now put a smile on your face and fucking wipe your goddamn eyes. You look disgusting. She's coming down the stairs."
Easily toting a giant backpack and two overstuffed duffle bags, you stride back into the living room. To Homelander's surprise, another duffle bag was floating behind you. Apparently you had telekinesis too. Your smile is so big that it was starting to hurt your face. This was the chance of a lifetime. You'd been getting bored stuck at home as of late.
Eagerly clenching the straps of your two duffle bags in your hands, you beam expectantly at your mom. "Sorry about dad not being here to see me off, but I'll see him around at Vought!" You go in to hug your stunned mom and promise to call her when you arrive at the tower.
Homelander is tickled pink by your enthusiasm and haul your bags out to the front porch. "Can you fly?"
You grin deviously and give your mom one last wave goodbye. Homelander takes the duffles out of your hands even though you were fully capable of carrying possibly even more luggage. What a gentleman. Something guys your age weren't.
He takes off first into the sky with you following, hot on his tail.
Never had you experienced this level of elation. You have someone to fly with! The feeling was the same for Homelander. He'd boost his speed and you caught up with him in seconds. Laughing the entire time. It makes him giddy and laughs along with you.
Twin flames.
Finally, Homelander was getting what he's wanted since he was a young boy.
You were a streak of gold as you zoom past him cheekily. For a moment he forgets that you're his sister. He's overwhelmed by the sudden warming in his chest that bleeds to his face as he watches you zip in the open air with your arms wide open to embrace the wind itself. To him you were beautiful in every single way. A perfect specimen. An outright desirous scream in his head confounds him. He didn't have a regular up bringing, but Homelander knew that this was not a common reaction to have with blood kin.
Expertly he tucks that thought away. He'd examine it later. Right now, he needed to focus on catching up with you.
He had to take the lead anyway since he was the only one who could find Vought Tower so high up in the sky and miles away. Below you, the city looks like a toy replica by how small it was as you follow Homelander's lead in the sky. You'd never seen anything quite like it. Where you'd lived was a quiet suburb. You didn't go to a public or private school but taught at home by the best instructors your parents could buy. They tend to keep you away from big cities, claiming your buddening powers as a liability if something bad were to happen. When they brought up things like that, it made you scared to even try using them. But watching Homelander's Vought produced movies gave you the courage to start playing with your abilities and push your limits; even if it meant that you subsequently knocked down the large tree in your backyard and landing it on the side of the house. That was the first time your dad had ever yelled at you.
From seeing it on the news many times, you notice the tall, silver column as Vought Tower. Homelander slows down as you had been too busy with sight seeing, but he didn't mind. He thought you were adorable, basically a little kid at Voughtland. So easily excited about everything new. That just reaffirms his suspicion that your parents had locked you up in an oppressive cage. Just like Becca did with Ryan. Really, Homelander was doing you a favor by setting you free and into his secure and guiding hands.
Both of you easily land on the roof of the tower, a door at the ready for them to enter the structure itself. You gaze out from the roof, enjoying the noise of the city and the pure energy that buzzed through it. That morning seemed so long ago. A basic start to your day, just like any other morning for the boring, safe life your parents smothered you with.
Your excitement makes your features glow, even blinding Homelander who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. You were utterly intriguing to him. An entirely different species. Both of you were so much alike yet due to your upbringing near solar opposites at the same time. Finally when you turn away from observing gaze and look to Homelander, he opens the door for you. In more ways than one. He takes you from the rooftop and into the thrum of the tower. You can't help staring at everything you walk by. All the while he goes on to promise you a room as soon as he could find-
"Ashley! There you are!" He calls out to a jumpy red head who looks both relieved and incredibly stressed out once she spots you next to him. Her lips smack against one another, flailing for useful words, her eyes round and staring at you. "We need to get a room set up for our new friend here." Homelander introduces you and you hold out a hand for Ashley to shake. Fumbling with her tablet, a sweaty hand weakly reaches out for a fast shake.
"Nice to meet you. Homelander, can I have a word with you?" Ashley hesitantly asks, forcing a fake smile and much like your mom had Ashley reeked of fear.
Homelander quickly catches your dampening smile and puts a hand on your shoulder to steer you past her. "Not now, Ashley. I have to show her around the rest of the tower. Especially the Seven's very own conference room." That brings the enthusiasm back onto your lips. While he can still hear Ashley's frantic voice trying to get him to come back he could care less. Besides, you didn't appear too affected by bumping into her, the prospect of seeing the Seven's personal conference room had you instantly forgetting the nervous red head.
A large window that spans from wall to wall has the perfect picture of the metropolis skyline in its massive frame. This felt like a perspective only the elite were privlidged enough to gaze from.
Focal point of the room though was the massive circular table, meticulously crafted with dark marble and metal. A symbol of the Seven's authority. It gleams liquid night. At the head of the table was one lone chair, away from the others. Homelander's chair. This is where he got to work every day with the greatest superheroes the country has to offer.
Watching you glide to his chair, Homelander smirks to himself. You catch it when you glance up at him with brilliant moon eyes. The brightness from the world outside casts a brilliant light around you. "I can't believe I'm in Homelander's seat!"
He chuckles and slowly trails over to you. His gloved fingers trail along the tops of the other chairs in a near gentle caress. "It suits you."
You avert your gaze from those fingers, suddenly feeling a flush crawl up your neck. "Is this really happening?" You incredulously peer at him. Your own hands glide along the table's surface. "This morning I was eating breakfast in our dining room, now I'm here with the greatest hero of all time." Brows scrunch together. Besides having powers, your life had been mundane. You'd never even been to Vought Tower where your dad had worked for a good thirty years. Things like this don't happen in a span of four hours. Insane. And it was all thanks to Homelander who saw potential in you.
"You'll get used to it. It's a lot at first." He acknowledged. Homelander wonders if Ashely has procured a room for you yet and has half the mind to call her until the conference room doors open. You throw yourself out of his chair, afraid how it would be perceived by his colleagues. Gasping when you find out it's Starlight and Queen Maeve. They appeared to be in a deep conversation. But once they register you and Homelander, whatever they'd been discussing becomes secondary. How could it not when you had similar characteristics with the man standing next to you. You weren't anyone they've met before. Nor were you a sponsoring celebrity or executive. So what were you doing there all of places?
"Impeccable timing!" He merely claps his hands together. "The two most perfect heroes to welcome you to the Tower." Starlight can't resist lookng at you with concern, wondering if you were in distress despite the smile plastered on your face. When there's no obvious sign of you being uncomfortable, Starlight strains to conjure the semblance of an easy going smile. Homelander told them that you were their new hero-in-training. Neither Queen Maeve or Starlight have ever heard of this position, it hadn't existed but once it leaves their leader's mouth, it might as well have been law. Maeve knew to tread carefully with her words.
Her own mask was honed after years of dealing with his psychopathy and Maeve dawned it on herself with ease. "Wonderful news." She turns to you, statuesque and beautiful. "Welcome. If Homelander speaks so highly of you, then I'm sure you'll find your footing around here."
"I'm excited to learn from both of you and I'll make sure not to get in the way." You promise which cracks a sympathetic smile from Starlight. From your appearance, Starlight deduces that you had to be a year or two younger than her and understood how it felt to abruptly be thrust into the life of the Seven.
Homelander clears his throat and offers you his arm. "Lets go see if Ashley's got that room ready for you. I'm sure you want to settle down."
Before leaving, Homelander sends both women a pointed glare over his shoulder as the doors close behind his red, white and blue cape.
Stunned, Starlight turns to Maeve knowing nothing good would come of this new installment of Vought. Neither had seen nor heard of you. You seemed relatively innocent and ignorant of the danger you were in so close to Homelander.
Maeve shrugs, indifference cloaking how she really felt. "Not our problem."
Starlight's eyes round in disbelief. "Sounds like its going to be a problem sooner or later. Something's up. He doesn't just show interest in random strangers. Even if they're supes too."
Chewing on the inside of her mouth, Maeve is aware of the terrible possibility that this could all end badly for you. Having Homelander's attention did more harm than good. If they wanted any chance of intervening, they'd have to be extremely careful. Homelander may be an egotistical man, but he wasn't a dumb man. He'd catch on immediately if either Starlight or Maeve slip in their investigation toward who you are.
"All we can do is keep an eye out for her and guide her." Maeve murmurs, worried that Homelander may still be listening. Such was the paranoia that she'd developed from all the years they worked together. It was upsetting that her relationship with HOmelander outlasts any other, even Elena. They'd known one another for years. The manner that Homelander hovered around you though was disconcerting. If intervention were needed, there was no way Homelander would let anyone near you.
Starlight grits down on her back molars as she moves around Maeve and out of the conference room. But she couldn't just keep an eye on you. Her feet take her to Ashley's office although her brain was reminding her that the VP of Hero Management would most likely not be there.
After finally hounding down Ashley, you're shown your new room in Vought with a promise from Homelander that you could redecorate it all if you like. All the while it's impossible to ignore the heavy smell of fear from her.
Homelander couldn't pretend not to notice either as his mouth, still holding onto a smile, becomes tight with force. "Thank you Ashley, that will be all."
For not being a supe, she gave A-Train a run for his money as Ashley booked it out of there in the blink of an eye.
"I'll make sure everything else is taken care of and given to you as soon as possible. For now though, relax. I'll put together a team dinner tonight so you can meet everyone else." The face he'd had with Ashley was washed away now replaced with genuine plesantaness.
You examine what was more than a simple room, this was a penthouse apartment. Bigger than the room you had back home with actual marble columns that stand proudly from floor to ceiling. A similar expansive window like that of the conference room greets the city outside with a glittery afternoon effect. Gold and amber filter the sky. Lost in the gleam of it all, you float around; eyes big in wonder. You lived in luxury before, but now your surroundings were damn near extravagant. This was an entire level up from your usual lifestyle.
Barely managing to breathe out an 'okay', you hear the front door open then close.
Still reeling, you place your backpack along with your other luggage at the foyer and let yourself wander. The call to your mom could wait. This moment was for you. You felt seen.
You would be a hero like Homelander. Maybe never as great as him, but some day you could achieve his caliber. This was really happening.
Homelander never imagined his day would have turned into something like this either. His miles hasn't left since leaving your room as he strolls through the halls to make sure your paperwork was properly handled. He felt like he was flying his entire way to the elevators yet his feet were firmly planted on the ground. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. So much he wanted to talk about.
But. . .
He couldn't let you know about the tie you had to him. More than you sharing powers. Blood connected the both of you. The only person (besides Ryan) who could boast that. It was something sacred to him. Of course nothing could remain pure when it came to Homelander. Because you were his sister that meant you were just as perfect as he was. Even more so since you had the added skill of telekinesis. The only person alive truly worthy of being with him. Thinking about his future had butterflies flapping their paper thin wings along the inside of his stomach. To take you the way he desired, Homelander had to make sure no one knew of your biological relationship. Public opinion would demonize him were the fact to get out. Initially he thought of keeping you locked up, but that was an unlikely scenario which would lead to you fighting against him. He wants you to be pliant and willing. That required trust to be developed along with Homelander worming his way into your brain and heart.
Hopefully the look he shot Starlight and Maeve on his way out was enough to prevent either of them in snooping around for information about you. This was his business that they should not meddle in. Particularly Starlight's intentions bothered him. She was a snake in the grass, proven it by aligning herself with Hughie and the rest of the Boys. He saw her being a problem in the future. That concerned look she'd had when her eyes fell upon you spelled trouble brewing.
The pep in his step dwindles thinking of it, jaw tightening. If Starlight found out you were siblings, it would put a wrench in the plans he was formulating. His long desired family unit was within reach. He could practically hear Ryan's laughter, see you chasing after the young boy as if he were your very own. How pretty you would look in summer clothes, waiting for Homelander to come home. The life of his dreams. The life Vought fabricated for his backstory could so easily become reality. He'd just been missing two important pieces. They were essential to this new life Homelander wished for.
There were no qualms over the idea of killing Starlight. Problems would be for Vought trying to cover it up. Not to mention the situation that would inevitably arise with Billy Butcher, especially now that he knew his wife was alive and raising the supe's son. Another encounter with him lay in wait. A headache he wasn't looking forward to dealing with. He just wanted to focus on you and Ryan.
Arriving at the gold plated elevator doors, he presses down on the button that would take him to floor 82, Mr. Edgar's floor. That was Mr. Edgar's kingdom which he ruled with an iron fist and ruthless attitude. When the two doors slide open, Ashley jumps back clearly startled by yet again running into him.
"I-I trust the room is to her liking?" Ashley's mouth twitches and morphs into what she must have thought passed off as a smile.
He stalks into the elevator forcing Ashley to seek refuge in the further most corner. Darkling tutting, Homelander waits for the doors to close before addressing the vice president who was charged with dealing with these self entitled heroes. "You're going to have to try a lot harder at pretending you're not scared. You stink of fear and if I can smell it, so could she."
Paling, her head rapidly nods in complete understanding all the while trying to relax her facial muscles into neutrality as well as taking a few deep breaths. If she didn't fix herself immediately. . . it brought back memories of Blindspot.
For a few seconds he watches her, specifically listening to her erratic heartbeat. At least she listened and didn't need to be told twice. Through her own sheer will, Ashley manages to calm herself enough to lower her pulse, not the easiest thing when her number one stressor was stuck in an elevator with her.
She reaches a hand up to her red hair and anxiously curls a lock of it around her finger instead, her only outlet that she'd be allowed.
"Good. You'll be coming with me to see Mr. Edgar." Homelander turns his blue eyes back up to the lit up floor numbers that were beginning to descend. With his attention away from her, Ashley stealthily rips out a few strands of her hair. The pain was soothing, aiding in faking her calm.
The air was suffocating with just the two of them. She thinks back to the phone call she'd received an hour before you and Homelander had arrived at the Tower. Stan Edgar personally warned her of what Homelander was doing. That he'd discovered not only a son but a sister too. Edgar, in the most polite way possible, instructed her not to get involved and just do whatever he told her to do. And absolutely no asking questions about you. Homelander was already pissed about so much being kept from him, best not to antagonize him further. Keeping him happy was top priority.
Unaware of the shit show that was unraveling, worker bees greet them with a smile once they arrive on the 82nd floor. A few even wave at Ashley.
Stan Edgar saw them coming the moment they stepped out of the elevator. Already he was on his feet and moving around his desk to greet them as his office door is opened. Homelander's hand poised at the back of Ashley's neck, he nudges her inside. Homelander motions for both of them to sit down as if it were his own office. His gaze doesn't waver, staring down an equally defiant Edgar. A normal human but he never squirmed in front of Homelander's penetrating stare. He'd commend the older man for his bravery. If only Ashley would take notes. She needed a better poker face if she's to make it in Vought Industries.
"You know why I'm here."
"Your sister and Ryan." Verifies Edgar. He'd prefer to stand but inch by inch sank himself down onto the cushion of his desk chair.
"Now, while Ryan may be under Becca's care, my sister is an adult and wishes to stay here. Train to be an elite hero. Like me. However," neither like the way he breathed out that single word "no one can know that we're related. People will scream nepotism and claim she's getting special treatment."
His reasoning was plausible but. . .
From a promotional point of view, a sibling duo would be a hit like the TNT Twins. The public would eat it up and show even more support for Vought in the polls.
"Oh, and her parents need to sign one of those NDA things. Can't have them flapping their mouth either." Tacking on as an after thought. You'd forget them soon enough. He'd just have to keep them away from you for the time being. They hovered over her too much for his liking. From the corner of his eye, he caught a quiver in Ashley's mask.
About to reprimand her, Edgar clears his throat and leans forward to allow his elbows to rest on the desk's surface." I understand. It will be done. But you do realize how difficult it would be to keep it under wraps considering the outstanding similarities. The powers, your eyes. People will start to ask questions."
"Let them ask away. As long as Vought says she's not my sister, then she's not my sister."
Why was he so intent on covering this one particular fact? Nepotism surely could explain it. Homelander's insistence of it concerns Edgar and Ashley who felt like he was planning something more nefarious for you. He was capable of any horrendous acts they could conjure. They were just as helpless when it came to him. Unable to defy his orders unless they desired him to burn holes into their faces as he did to Madelyn.
All of his whims taken care of, Homelander leaves them to start working on the welcome dinner with you and the rest of the Seven. He wants to show you off. He'd make sure you never wanted to leave him. Ensure that you continue to see him as all powerful and benevolent. The looks of admiration you'd shot him went straight to his head as well as other regions that were out of his control. Clear that you idolized America's favorite hero. Your parents raised you to believe that Vought was a company that cared about helping the public and that their heroes were there to protect and serve the general masses. No doubt in your mind that they were the good guys and the stuff on the media was simply baseless slander. What child would want to discover that their daddy was actually a bad guy working for the power hungry company and that supes were not in fact a gift from god. They were manmade. That knowledge would ruin your world.
Homelander would not allow that. You were his to protect now. His to blind and deafen to the world around them.
#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#theboysxreader#the boys x reader#theboyshomelanderxreader#the boys homelander x reader#the boys#the boys x you#theboysxyou#theboystv#the boys fanfiction#the boys fanfic#x you#fics#homelander x reader#homelander f#homelander fic#please don't let this bomb lol#if it does well might consider making another part since i kinda left it open ended
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Break Me Down - Part 10
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader
Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.
Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…
💚 Break Me Down Masterlist
AN: Song inspo for this one is “Caught In the Balance” by Toto!
Word Count: 5,300
Tags/Warnings: Violence, hints of past trauma, hurt/comfort, angst, and a (mean) cliffhanger...
Part 10: Caught in the Balance
“Christ on a cross,” Ben muttered.
He was just trying to start his morning with some huevos rancheros.
He hid behind a mask of impassiveness, while his stomach turned at the sight of the open cooler Frank had been forced to show him.
Saul’s bloody severed head was stored inside. Ben had asked for a report on the man’s reconnaissance mission, but this was a bit thorough.
“Black Noir took out his entire unit,” Frank informed him. His tone was stoic, as usual, but his dark brown eyes betrayed his solemnity.
Ben shook his head and peered inside. “I fucking figured…yep, that’s Noir’s handiwork all right.”
The cut was clean at the neck—sliced by a blade.
Unfortunately, that was when you entered the kitchen in search of breakfast. Ben looked over at you, taking in your matching purple pajamas with a hint of a smile. Your hair was a bit messy, your face still tired with sleep.
But when Frank swiftly snapped up the cooler, you still raised a perceptive brow.
“What’s that?” you asked. Ben shared a brief glance with Frank.
“Just some steaks for later,” Ben replied. You didn’t look convinced, sniffing the air with a grimace.
“Is that why it smells like a meat locker in here?” you said.
After you grabbed a mug of coffee, you took a seat at the far end of the kitchen island. It left an open seat between you and Ben, and he noticed the distance.
“What’re Saul and Loco up to today? Think they’d be up for some Texas Hold’em?” you asked Frank.
He shook his head and tucked the cooler under his arm.
“They’re on a job,” he said.
You warmed your hands around your coffee mug and nodded. “Ah, yeah. Trying to figure out how Black Noir pulled a Lazarus?”
Both men stared back at you, confirming your assumptions.
“You do realize this begins and ends with your buddy, Stan Edgar,” you said, turning to Ben. “Vogelbaum was his chief geneticist, the Head of R&D during your time. But Stan was the Steve Jobs to his Wozniak. Together they created Homelander.”
Ben didn’t know who the fuck you were talking about there, but he got the gist of what you were saying.
Stan had played him from the beginning; he’d masterminded what went down Nicaragua, replacing Soldier Boy with Homelander, creating him in some petri dish with Ben’s DNA.
Now, it seemed Stan was partnering with the CIA to take him down. He’d even brought that cunt Noir back to life to do it. Also, likely, with the help of Ben’s DNA. (Well, probably Homelander’s, but that was still partly Ben’s.)
He couldn’t let that fucking stand, now could he?
His hand fisted on the counter, next to his forgotten plate. His brows fell over his eyes as he contemplated. He knew what he had to do next, just not exactly how he was going to do it.
“I’m gonna have to cut the head off the snake,” Ben mused out loud.
You watched him wearily, hiding a measure of concern at the darker shift in him.
Ben nodded at Frank and the cooler still under his arm, dismissing him. “We’ll talk later. Take care of that.”
Frank went with a nod, leaving you with Ben in the kitchen. You frowned.
“If you go back to the U.S., especially to New York, they’ll have a much easier time finding you,” you pointed out.
Though part of you kicked yourself for doing so. An idea was forming in your mind, and it could just mean your freedom…
And that was when Ben looked over at you once more. His eyes were guarded, more so than they had been with you of late.
“Why do you care?” he asked snidely. “You’ve barely said two fucking words to me in days.”
Which was true. You’d been carrying your grudges and your anger, both at him and at yourself, and your own conflicting emotions ever since you’d arrived at this new house.
The effects of V24 had long washed out of your system, but it still stung—that that poison had saved you. And so had these men, who had kidnapped you in the first place.
Shaking your head, you frowned at him to cover up your ongoing internal circus.
“Because you’re about to go on a fucking warpath. With, I imagine, a lot of collateral damage in store,” you replied, maybe more sharply than you’d intended.
Ben’s green eyes were dark and narrowed.
“There’s that self-righteous fucking tune,” he said. But his next words cut into you like so many knives. “You’ve been a fucking lapdog your entire life. Doing whatever daddy, Vought, or the CIA tells you to do. So remind me, why the fuck do you care so much about what I do, huh?”
For a moment, you were speechless.
Soon enough though, your shock melted into an angry glower as you tried to hide how much that actually hurt you.
A harsh breath expelled through your nose. Maybe he expected you to blow your top, like you usually would. Because that had worked so well at getting through to him in the past.
So instead, you tried to go with what seemed to work before.
“I didn’t used to,” you replied honestly. It seemed to make him pause, a little.
“When I joined the S.A., it was just my chance to break away from Vought,” you continued. “But…I don’t know. The more out of control supes we took off the street, the more I felt good about it. The work that I was doing.”
You let out a sigh, glancing down at your hands still wrapped around your cooling cup of coffee.
“You were right before, about me. I was part of it too. I helped cleaned up Vought’s messes. I made their supes look good, behind the scenes,” you said. “But I’m trying to do something that matters. Something honest, that actually makes people safer. It makes my family safer.”
That fell between you two for a while. Ben seemed to take it with his usual stoicism, but you knew him well enough by now. He’d been listening.
And eventually, he spoke.
“Then you should be grateful,” he said. “Noir. Stan. Vought. All those cocksuckers…I’m going to take them all out for fucking good.”
Are you, really? You couldn’t help but wonder. He’d been successful with Payback, and Homelander (with help from Butcher and Hughie).
But Vought was a machine. It had been an institution for decades. A multibillion conglomerate with a thousand and one hydra tentacles of ways to fuck people over…but if anyone was powerful enough to try to bring it all down, it was Soldier Boy.
Still, power isn’t everything. You thought of how he’d lost control against Noir, and how he’d blown up a hole in your bedroom ceiling and couldn’t remember much about it afterwards. Ben was still a mess.
But you considered a world where Vought couldn’t create supes anymore, like pop tarts coming out of the damn toaster. You considered what Ben could accomplish, now that he was properly motivated to end his six-month sabbatical.
And you considered what would happen if you helped him do it.
This is not the time to be reckless, the more rational part of your mind reminded.
And yet, you just had to continue following the impulsive voice that had led you for weeks.
“You can’t just run at this head on, guns blazing,” you told him. “Stan’s too smart for that.”
Ben eyed you with guarded interest.
“You look like you’ve got something in mind,” he said.
You nodded, though your lips pursed. You hated this idea, even though it had been growing since this conversation began. And you couldn’t even believe you were suggesting it, really.
“We can get into Vought under the radar, if you let me make a call,” you said. Ben’s expression tightened. Yours did too, with the beginnings of anxiety.
“Who do you need to call?” he asked.
“My father,” you replied.
As Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security, Jon didn’t often receive calls from phone numbers he didn’t recognize. Certainly not to his personal, blacklisted cell phone. He took the call into his personal office and shut the door behind him.
He answered it with a healthy measure of suspicion, “Hello?”
The last voice he expected to greet him was his eldest daughter’s.
“Hey. It’s me,” you replied.
Jon’s expression slackened. He sat down heavily at his desk, and your name fell from his lips in disbelief.
“You’re alive,” he said in genuine wonderment. “I thought…I thought you were dead.”
Your response was dry. “Before or after you sent Black Noir after us?”
Jon frowned, shifting back in his chair.
“That was Stan’s call,” he said. “There was no sign of you in any of our reports.”
“Then you weren’t looking very hard,” you said.
Your tone was matter-of-fact, unyielding. It was so like you that he had to smile.
“If nothing else, you were ambitious going after Soldier Boy,” he said, rubbing his chin. It reminded him that he needed a shave. “I should’ve known you were still alive…it seems I taught you better than I thought.”
On the other line, you had Ben’s cell in your hand while you spoke to your father on speaker. Ben and Frank were both in the room with you, sitting in chairs on either side. Frank suggested this conference room beside the study to conduct the call.
However, you tried not to look at either man while you tried to focus on getting through this.
“I managed to grab a phone from one of my guards,” you said into the speaker. “I can’t reach out to the CIA. They think I’m a damn turncoat at this point. But if you really want Soldier Boy, I can tell you where he’s going to be.”
“…Where?” Jon asked.
You glanced up at Ben before you replied. He gave you a nod.
“He plans to be in New York in three days.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you said wryly. “To find Black Noir. It’s all he’s been moaning on about. He’s kind of a simpleton that way. Tit for tat on the vengeance beat.”
Ben gave you a dark look for that one, but you ignored him.
“Well, I can certainly give him a meeting with Noir,” said Jon. His voice shifted into that calculating tone you knew all too well. “That, and much more.”
“Good. Give him a big enough distraction, and I can lose his crew,” you replied.
There was a beat on the other line. You and your companions waited, for his agreement, for some kind of confirmation, but he didn’t give you that just yet.
“Are you all right?” Jon asked. “How’s your sister?”
Your lips pursed. “Clearly, I’m peachy. Are you in on this?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you get out of there, don’t worry,” he said. He almost sounded like a father. It made anxiety crawl up through your lungs, into your throat.
“It’ll be good to see you,” he added. “What’s it been, a year? More?”
You swallowed your unease.
“Let me make this clear,” you said. “This is just business. If you want to help me, fine. But don’t make it more than that.”
There was another pause, a heavy sigh.
“Oh, believe me. I know you wouldn’t be calling unless this was your last resort,” Jon said.
You tried to swallow, and found resistance.
“Good,” you said. “I’m glad we have that understanding.”
“See you soon,” he said. You ended the call afterwards.
Both men had been monitoring you throughout the exchange, but it was Ben’s gaze you felt, hot across your profile. Even now, he watched you behind impassive eyes. You wished you knew what he was thinking.
Regardless of things you’d said when you were angry, Ben knew too much about you now. There was no way he didn’t see it—how you were putting your all into keeping yourself together.
You stared back at him, but he didn’t ask if you were all right. He just nodded.
“Are we done?” he asked.
You scoffed, hiding your disappointment, and maybe the beginning of tears burning in your eyes. You blinked past them with an unsettled breath.
“Yeah,” you replied. “We’re done.”
Ben watched you get up, and you let the cell phone clatter on the table before you left.
Late that night, Ben wandered the dark halls of this house. He was trying to familiarize himself, and remember why the hell he bought this gaudy thing.
It was another big, empty shell that didn’t have much life in it—even less than the last place in Medellin. At least that one had character, surrounded by the mountains and wildflowers.
This house, while beautiful, felt stale; like an old photograph in sepia tones.
He found himself stopping outside your door. It was late, and he couldn’t hear your TV on, so you were probably asleep by now. If he stood close enough to the door, his superior hearing could just make out your soft, even breaths.
He knew you were pissed at him, but really, he thought you were being a bitch about it.
I fucking saved her, he thought sourly, and not for the first time. She should be fucking grateful I lifted a finger.
But then, he remembered just how pale you were when he found you in the helicopter, after the blast, and after he made his escape. Ben saw how wide your eyes got when you saw what had hurt you—that giant fucking piece of wood embedded in your body.
He remembered the sound of your scream, blood on his hands. He could feel your life slipping through his fingers…and for once, he wasn’t okay with letting it happen.
So he stopped it. Or at least, he ordered Frank to do it.
And afterwards, Ben couldn’t believe how you turned on him. That you were actually angry at him for saving your life!
What kind of idiot are you. He’d wanted to grab you and shake you until you saw good sense.
You were stronger on V. You were powerful, almost his equal. And Ben could admit, if only to himself, that he craved that: having an equal.
When he’d had Countess, that bitch, he thought he had his life sorted. He’d figured he had time to settle, to have a family…
But now that life was gone. His asshole team was gone. What the fuck was left?
Ben leaned against your door, as if he could brace against the depths of thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to fall into since he left the U.S.
Still, he couldn’t help but think…after he became a supe, he’d reveled in standing alone, in the spotlight. When did it start to get harder?
Just then, his sensitive ears picked up on something: your breath hitched. He paused, listening closely. Soon enough, he heard a whimper.
Ben debated for a few seconds, but he decided to open the door, quietly twisting the knob and pushing it open. His eyes found you in the dark, curled in on yourself on the bed.
He drew closer until he reached your bedside, and even heard your pulse starting to race. His lips drew into a frown as he read the distress in your features. You were dreaming, and whatever it was, it didn’t look pleasant.
Ben hesitated, but he kneeled by your bed and carefully slid your hair away from your face. You were an angry, stubborn, mouthy little thing. He could just hear your voice now.
You still haven’t even apologized!
The audacity you had, to demand shit from him.
But then, he almost sighed when he realized he was glaring down at your sleeping form.
What the fuck’re you doing, anyway? He shook his head at himself and got up to leave, but your voice stopped him.
It was a pained whimper, a shuddering breath. Ben’s attention shifted back to you as he watched you tighten in on yourself, your hand curling into a fist that pressed against your throat. He didn’t know if you were trying to choke yourself, or fend someone off—
And then, Ben had to struggle against a firebrand of anger under his skin.
He finally realized what you were probably dreaming about; who you were fighting, even in your sleep.
He regretted letting you call your father. Maybe he even regretted pretending he didn’t notice…how talking to your dad had clearly fucked with you.
But he wasn’t about to show weakness. Not in front of his men…
With a quiet sigh, Ben reached out and soothed a hand over the top of your head. His fingers slid through your loose hair, stopping when they reached some tangles. Slow and careful, he repeated this. Until finally, your breathing seemed to ease up.
He unclenched your fingers out of their loosening fist, and he absently stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. You’re one deep sleeper…
You sighed and shifted in your sleep, resting your cheek easier on the pillow. Your brows were still knitted, but after a while, even your face relaxed.
Ben placed your hand down, giving the back of it one more tentative swipe.
And then he left, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. You never woke up to catch him.
A helicopter took you from the house to a private jet with Ben, Frank, Loco, and a few other hired men for the mission. You sat across from Ben, both seats facing one another. Your eyes were narrowed as you watched him accept a glass of whiskey.
“Where’s Saul?” you asked. Ben gave you a side glance, and with a quiet exhale, he answered you.
“He’s dead.”
You nodded through your sad, angry frown. You’d had a feeling that was what he and Frank had been hiding the other day, but you hadn’t wanted to face it.
“Black Noir?” you asked.
Ben nodded and sipped at his whiskey. “Yeah.”
“Do you even care?” you asked. Ben eyed you a bit sharper, but he didn’t comment.
“A couple of knocked banks didn’t get you this jet, on top of everything else,” you remarked, gesturing at your surroundings. “Where’s the money coming from?”
He’d bought back at least two properties from Vought, along with all the other shit he’d likely been blowing his money on for the last few months.
Ben sipped at his drink. You imagined it was hard for him to cross his legs in his super suit, otherwise he might’ve, to complete the air of asshole-ish nonchalance. You’d decided to dress comfortable, but prepared in yoga pants, sneakers, and a matching activewear jacket.
“Why do you think I settled in Colombia, of all places?” he asked you. His lips curved into a smirk and he shot you a wink. “Best drugs in town.”
His assets were frozen by the government, which meant he’d gotten the money from somewhere…
Your face soon fell as you realized your own stupidity. The shady characters he’d recruited, not just Frank, Saul, and Loco, but other men too that would occasionally traipse through the house. Plus the mysterious “jobs” they would routinely disappear on, sometimes for days on end.
Ben had infiltrated a drug cartel.
“Frank and his men were the muscle for some hot-shot kingpin, until I cut the head off the snake,” Ben revealed. “Which is what I’m about to do to good ole’ Stan.”
You crossed your arms with a deep frown.
“Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, I discover a new scum-ridden layer,” you said.
His lips quirked humorlessly. “Disappointed?”
You just shook your head and looked out the window of the jet.
“Mostly in myself,” you replied.
Ben didn’t show how your words sunk into him. He continued drinking.
Hours later, you all arrived at JFK Airport in New York. The jet landed far enough away from the larger commercial planes, but somehow that made you even more nervous.
You felt like you were stepping out into the Wild West as you disembarked from the jet and landed on the concrete ground of your home city.
Ben’s presence burned behind you, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back. Frank and Loco had the bags (and weapons). But before you could ask where to go next, Ben paused with a thoughtful frown on his face.
You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but then you heard it. A thin whistling in the air that couldn’t be attributed to an aircraft.
Ben pulled out his shield from its sheath on his back, and with his free hand he grabbed you, yanking you into his chest. He all but dragged you several steps away from the jet and then kneeled to cover both of you when a missile soared overhead.
It speared into the jet, destroying it with an epic explosion that seared across Ben’s back. He felt the heat, but it only singed the back of his neck without even burning his skin. His suit and helmet protected him from the rest, just as his shield and body protected you.
You could claim to hate him all you wanted, but your hands were braced against his chest as you leaned into him. And when you looked up, your eyes were wide with shock and fear.
“Go,” he ordered, pushing you towards Frank. You went with him, but you still looked back at Ben as worry undeniably claimed your heart. Loco and the rest of his team stood behind the supe.
Meanwhile, Butcher had appeared on the tarmac. With a rocket launcher, naturally.
He wore a smirk along with one of his customary, glaring Hawaiian shirts and long black trench coat. The hem of it fluttered as the wind blew between the long span of distance between him and Ben.
“So the CIA’s partnering with Vought now? How does that fucking work?” Ben remarked.
Butcher was joined by Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, and then entire units of CIA and SWAT teams piling out of several armored cars.
“I’ll admit, you’re a tricky bugger to track down,” Butcher said. “But consider this your debt to fucking society paid in full.”
He launched yet another projectile from his gun. You gasped, but even though Frank pulled you towards the airport building and away from the fight, you still craned your head back to watch Ben bat away the missile with his shield. It landed far away, spilling concrete where it hit and shaking the ground.
Then a warning star bolt hit in front of Frank’s feet, stopping both of you short. You looked up and found Annie and M.M., the latter with an impressive gun in both hands.
“Stop right there, motherfucker,” M.M. ordered. “Time to let her go.”
“You okay?” Annie asked you. You had to smile, despite yourself.
“Yeah. It’s good to see you guys,” you said. Frank’s hand tightened on your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from leaving his side. He was stronger than usual once again, with the help of V24. He wielded his own gun trained on M.M.
“Step aside,” he ordered.
Annie pursed her lips at shot a star bolt at him. You took your opportunity and kicked at the back of Frank’s knee. It made his grip falter just enough that when M.M. jumped in to fight him, you scrambled away and Annie took your hand.
While the two men fought, you finally noticed the black sedan the pulled up on the tarmac behind you. The tinted driver’s window rolled down, revealing your father in black sunglasses.
Annie followed the path of your gaze in confusion. “Who the hell’s that?”
“Annie,” you squeezed her hand. “You know I’m your friend, right?”
Her brows furrowed, especially when you let go of her. “What’s wrong? What’re you about to do?”
“I need you to trust me,” you said.
You knew she didn’t understand, nor did she want to let you go. But you ran away from her, towards the car. She meant to follow you, but Frank held M.M. at bay long enough to aim a few well-placed bullets between you and Annie.
It stopped her long enough for you to climb into the black sedan before it peeled away, speeding around to the private gate of the airport. While you caught your breath, Jonathan’s gaze peered at you through the rearview mirror, after he lowered his sunglasses. The car was empty except for you and him.
Good, you thought. That meant he was the only one you had to watch closely.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Just fine,” you breathed. “Where to now?”
“Let’s get you to safety,” Jon said. You nodded. And when his focus was back on the road, you discreetly retrieved a tracking device from your pocket and placed it on the side of your seat, hidden from view.
Ben had given it to you before getting off the plane.
The device was small and flat, with a smooth back that would attach to almost any surface.
You rolled it experimentally between your fingers and looked up at Ben. His face was harder to read than ever.
“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked.
Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.”
You frowned up at him. It was hard to believe that for all you two had been through together, this was really how it was going to be from now on.
“If I was worth saving?” you challenged.
He didn’t answer you, but his hand fell away from your face.
The car soon made its way out of the airport and onto the open road. There you were greeted by the familiar highways and approaching skyscrapers of New York City. You would be relieved to be home (almost), if you weren’t so tense.
“I need to see Stan Edgar,” you told your father.
Jon’s gaze met yours in the rearview.
“I have intel that he’ll be interested in,” you said.
“Okay, and that is?” he asked.
“About Supe Affairs, Soldier Boy, take your pick. But it’s the kind of information you don’t play Telephone with.”
“Mr. Edgar is a busy man,” Jon started to say.
“And you’re his Chief of Security,” you cut him off. “Who’s wiping his ass while you’re here with me?”
Jon sighed. “Always with that fucking mouth. Do you want me to relocate you? Put you in a safe house until we finish dealing with Soldier Boy?”
And give your father abject control over your life? I think not, you glared at the thought.
“I want to speak to Stan. I don’t care if it’s here, or Vought HQ, or in the middle of Times fucking Square. Take me to his damn office,” you demanded.
Maybe Ben had rubbed off on you a little.
“Or pull over right now, and I’ll make my way to the Tower myself,” you said. Jon came to a red light and had time to regard you in disbelief.
“Jesus…all right, let’s see if Stan will see you,” he said.
You let out a breath and finally allowed yourself to sit back in your seat. When the light turned green, Jon took the correct fork in the road that would lead you to Vought Tower.
And before you left the car, you made sure to grab the tracking device from the side of your chair, carrying it with you into your bra.
It was strange to enter this building again. You had worked here for five years, but it had been a year and a half since you’d returned.
It was still as busy as ever in the halls. Though you noticed the ratio of employees to tourists was about 30-70. It was incredible what taking out Vought’s golden psycho could do to a company’s profits.
Now they just needed to put the final nail in the coffin.
Jon led you to the elevator, and all the way up the Tower to Stan’s office. You had only been to this room once, when you were hired, but it was more or less how you remembered. Very spacious, minimalist furniture in a desk and a slim couch set, complete with a long glass coffee table.
But Stan was nowhere to be found. You frowned.
“Where is he?” you asked. Suspicion and awareness pricked at your spine.
You turned around to face your father, just in time to slap away something metallic headed for your neck.
It was a syringe. You watched it spin across the floor, and you glared back at him incredulously. He had enforced his will on you before, but he’d usually managed that with his hands, not with drugs. Maybe Vought had changed him too.
“All right, easy,” Jon said, raising placating hands. He drew closer as you backed away from him.
“I had a feeling Soldier Boy let you go,” he said. “That you’d probably planned this little bait and switch with him from the beginning.”
Heat made your cheeks flush as you glared back at him. Your father quirked a smile.
“Despite what you’d like to believe, I know you better than anyone,” Jon said.
You begged to differ on that…but part of you knew he was right.
“You did what you had to do with Soldier Boy. I understand,” he said. “Playing both sides of the game was smart. But I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”
“By sedating me?” you shouted. Your voice quivered, both with rage and fear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He knew that you’d tried to play him, but his mistake was thinking you’d been playing Ben too.
“Later we’ll talk. When you’ve calmed down,” Jon said.
He reached out to grab your arm, but you evaded him. He called your name in warning.
You just got into a defensive stance. And the next time he tried for your arm, you snapped back with a fist to the bridge of his nose. It sent Jon’s head back with a grunt.
When his hand came back bloody from his nose, his demeanor shifted, from placating to stern. His cool gaze met yours, and you stared back at him stubbornly, poised for a fight.
“You little brat,” he said, wiping his nose again. “I fucking pulled you out of the fire, and you’re being difficult. As usual.”
“You didn’t save me,” you retorted. Emotion burned in your eyes, but your anger (and a frisson of fear) allowed you to clamp it down. “You never have.”
You shot out a preemptive strike, but your father surprised you by grabbing your wrist. And he backhanded you hard enough to make you see stars.
AN: 🫣 Welp, we're back in the U.S. SB is storming the castle, but at what cost...
Next Time:
A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.
“She needs help,” he said gravely.
Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.
Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this.
Right fucking now.
Keep Reading: PART 11
Soldier Boy Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List:
@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort
@xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow
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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67
#caught in the balance#soldier boy#the boys#soldier boy/ben#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#the boys season 3#soldier boy/ben x reader#the boys au#enemies to lovers#frenemies to lovers#private investigator!reader#the boys amazon#soldier boy fic#soldier boy smut#break me down#Part 10#zepskies writes
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Something RED 6
Pairings: Reader x Soldier Boy (Ben)
Warnings: None.
Summary: you knew soldier boy since you were young until the man had gotten tested he had become a whole different person. So when he comes back after Crimson and other supes send him away, it makes him angry
A/N: I love hearing your thoughts! So share what you think.
Edited?: no I'll edit all the mistakes tomorrow. 10/31
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
Ben had sat at the picnic table devouring his sandwich like it was going to leave him. He had been acting a little weird, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it until he cleared his throat.
“You know, Blondie the rip-off version of me? I'm his dad”
A small laugh left your lips and you shook your head, “That's a great joke”
Ben on the other hand didn't laugh, not one bit for the first time he looked dead serious which made you gasp “How is that possible...?"
“I get called into Vogelbaum’s lab for an experiment, some stupid shit about genetics. I basically beat my meat into a cup.” he stated very short, he ran his hands through his brown hair and sighed.
“I'm in a tough spot here yeah?”
You awkwardly nod, it did make more sense for Homlanders issues now... You were in no position to tell Ben what to do and neither was Hughie or Butcher if they found out.
“Am I the only one that knows?” you ask wondering who knows already and who you'll have to deal with.
Ben nods “That stupid shit is really mine. He's got a goddamn cape for Christ's sakes” he cringes and shakes his head disprovingly, before downing the rest of the whiskey bottle when smuggled into the basket when you had announced that you both were going for a picnic.
It grew silent. There wasn't much else to talk about it, honestly? It felt kind of weird knowing this information but then again... You were curious to what path Ben would choose. The team or Homelander?
“You should lay off the drinking, I can't exactly carry you back the motel” you teased trying to lighten up the mood, “Also back to what your were saying, what's wrong with a cape? They are pretty cool unless you have a boring looking one”
Ben gave you a side glanced and looked at you in disgust. “Y/n. It's a goddamn cape. It's just stupid.” he mutters his point and you raised a brow.
••••••••
“What the fuck is wrong him ay?” Butcher points to Ben who looks like he's conflicting all his life choices.
“Soldier boy you betta not be rethinking our agreement.” The bearded man kicked, Bens foot which nearly ended in a cat fight between the two.
“Butcher leave it alone im handling it.” you said sternly growing annoyed that she had to snap at these men like the we're children for gods sakes they are grown men!
“I talked to blondie on the phone today” Ben tells you before you left the room, stopping in your tracks and turning around.
“You what?!”
“I told him I was his father and all the bullshit.” he said waving around his blunt as he talked.
You were stunned. Annoyed but stunned. Did he know what homelander was like? Because shit like this was going to get them killed.
“Now I need to go tell Butcher this, stay here and I swear to god Ben don't touch anything” you were stressed and on your wits end at this rate. So much was happening and it was all going to fast.
“Butcher. We need to talk.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••
Taglist: @hobby27 @kat-nee @globetrotter28 @tmb510 @beskarfilms @deans-spinster-witch @stoneyggirl2
#jensen ackles#the boys#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy#butcher x reader#hughie x reader#hughie campbell#billy butcher
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Generic OC *hanging onto Homelander*: I could fix him
Jonah Vogelbaum: Please, don't. It took a lot of effort to fuck him up this bad.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander x oc#homelander#antony starr#the boys#the boys incorrect quotes#my babygirl#fine I'll create my own content#homelanderxoc
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Light My Fire - Part Four
Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader
Rating: M (Crude Language, mentions of depression and death)
Description: During incarceration, you come across a special boy. Years later, memories are brought to the forefront that you don't recall ever existing.
Tagged: @tonixe, @chernayawidow, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @ophennie, @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn
Author's Note: I hope this makes up for the lost time. I know it has been a while. More so the fact that I have a lot going on and definitely not the fact that I had this sitting on my laptop for weeks. Please don't hate me. :)
Part Three
You sipped from a cigarette, smoke flowing like a stream from your nostrils. You blankly stared down at the tray in front of you, flicked the excess ashes into the bowl.
"So, would you say you have seen an improvement in your time here?" Your eyes drifted up to the white coat sitting across from you. She had wrinkles all over, beady eyes, cat eye glasses, freshly manicured nails tapping against her clipboard.
You don't even remember why you were here. In this white room, with nothing around you, nothing but a table and two chairs. You had been here for weeks. After each session, they would move you from this room, into another. That other room was also mostly empty; a single bed, an end table with a lamp, a toilet and a sink. Between this room and that one, there was nothing but a hallway of doors. One door after the other, titanium metal doors.
You didn't know where you were, you didn't know why you were here, all you knew was that you weren't thinking about *him* anymore. You didn't want to die anymore. There was a strained calm that blanketed you and it was because of these pills. You were complacent to your situation. And in your eyes, compacency was a better comfort than a struggle. You had been struggling for so long. You wanted to relax. You could relax here. Everything was taken care of for you, everything was what you needed it to be, to clear your mind.
"Sure." You replied in between another drag, smoke wafted in the woman's face, she didn't react. She was used to you. She had been your lab coat since you first arrived here, after Vogelbaum started losing interest at least.
There was one thing to be noted about this room. One thing that you had never realized before, or one thing that had never been there in your previous visits. Your eyes kept darting toward it, fluttering to and fro, like a bug to a flashing lightbulb.
There.
Tucked in the corner, in the far corner of the stark white room...
A tiny red lego.
Through a sea of fog in your mind.
It wouldn't have been noticeable to the average eye from this distance. Not unless the eye was trained. Your eyes weren't average and they didn't need to be trained to see what you saw.
Your immediate explanation:
"Someone didn't do their job." You said outloud, lining a stare directly on the white coat. Her fingers wrapped around her clipboard and her eyebrows furrowed at you.
"I'm sorry?" You rolled your eyes, stamping the cigarette out in the table as you stood. You circled the table and with bare feet, trotted your way over to the miniature piece. You crouched down, pinched it between your fingers and lifted it high. You inspected it with a deepening curiosity, which only grew further when your white coat began to tremble in her red high heels. You focused on her again, extending the lego to her.
"Ya'know, you don't have kids here, do you?" You already knew the answer, so you were definitely patronizing in your tone. Luckily, you had been working on your anger issues these past few weeks; otherwise, you would have blown a fuse.
Kids?!
What the fuck was Vogelbaum thinking?!
What happened to old heroes? Grown adults that worked their asses off to get recognized for a program like this.
In your opinion, heroes shouldn't even be made anymore. The Hero Program should have ended with Soldier Boy. The Hero Program should have ended with Payback.
"My goodness, I have no idea." She feigned a gasp, holding her chest.
That answer didn't suffice.
You flicked the lego piece so hard that it put a dent in the white wall of the room.
"Okay." You looked directly up at the camera. "You want to play it that way?" The calm was gone. So began the rampage. You stormed for the metal door and easily ripped your way through it. The white coat screamed, she began shouting into the collar of her coat.
"HELP! CODE RED!" You made your way down the hallway, starting with the first metal door you came across. You broke through it like butter.
Empty.
You went for the next door, after a few seconds of walking, it was to your right.
Empty.
"Phoenix! Listen closely! Stop this!" Vogelbaum sounded over the intercom.
"Oh yeah?" You broke through the next door.
Empty.
Metal shards were everywhere. You broke through three more doors before Vogelbaum's pleas intensified, you knew you were getting close.
You broke through another door. It was the last one you broke through.
And there...
A child.
You found a blonde haired, blue eyed boy on the other side. He was hunched in the corner, arms held up defensively, but there was no fear in his eyes.
"Phoenix, Go back to your room. Walk away." You ignored Vogelbaum's evenly voiced demands. He sounded completely devoid of the panic he previously expressed. Now there was just stillness. Now there was just calm. Your eyes narrowed on the boy, you stepped forward.
"Hi," You greeted, not certain of what exactly you were looking at. What exactly was happening here? "What's your name, kid?" He was wearing a red, white, and blue stripped shirt and jeans. To any outsider, he appeared to be a normal kid. And despite his living conditions, they weren't terrible living conditions. But no child should be imprisoned, no child should be experimented on.
"John." He said, eyeing you up and down, he stepped from his corner. "What's your name?"
"I don't remember," You replied honestly. "Haven't gone by my real name in decades." You lifted your chin, inspected the room with a quick glance. "People call me Phoenix."
"Why?"
"Because I became something else." You said with confidence, "like fire."
"You're fire?" He squinted at you, "You don't look like fire." You inhaled a deep breath, that was a fair deducation. You crouched down to his level, despite the distance that he stood from you. You lifted your hand in front of you and snapped your fingers, a small flame appeared at the tip where your thumb and pointer convened. The boy's eyes balloned with wonder.
"I'm a special kind of person, kid..." You smiled, dismissing the flame with a swing of your hand and standing up. "I'm betting you're special too."
As you finished your sentence, armed men, dressed in all black, and wearing masks, flooded the hallways on either side of you. You jolted into the room and spun, standing your ground between the boy and the men that soon filled up the entrance. Their guns were trained on you.
"I didn't want it to be like this, Phoenix." Your eyes flashed red, fists balling up at your sides.
"He's just a kid, Vogelbaum."
"He's not yours to worry about."
"I'm not leaving this room without him."
"Maybe he doesn't want to leave." You paused, then glanced over your shoulder at the boy. He seemed unfazed by the events taking place before him, but his wide blue eyes stared up at you expectantly. You cocked your head at him, the red in your eyes faded.
"Where are your parents?" He blinked at you, like he didn't even know what you were talking about. You spun around and crouched in front of him, grabbing his shoulders with your hands. You conpletely ignored the armed men lined up behind you, guns now trained on you and ready to fire. They wouldn't be able to hurt you anyways. "Listen to me, kid, how did you get here?"
"I've always been here." He replied, your eyebrows furrowed, you rubbed his shoulders, not exactly knowing how to react to that response. What you really wanted to do was go find Vogelbaum and shove his head up his ass. A child?! Really? That was some piece of shit scientist bullshit.
Something overwhelmed you in that moment. Something you hadn't felt in years:
Purpose.
This was the reason you were here. This was the reason you had been willingly waiting in that stupid white room, week after week. You were here for this boy.
"Do you want to come with me?" You asked, lips forming a tight lipped smile. John's eyes scanned every inch of your face, you could tell he was trying to figure out if he could trust you.
"Are you my mommy?" You didn't hesitate in your response.
"No." You said firmly, "And I don't know who your mommy is." You sighed, "But I do know that you don't belong in a goddamned box. You're a person, John. You're a very special person-"
"Phoenix-"
"Shut Up, Vogelbaum!" John's head tilted, attention moving between the intercom, the camera in the corner of the room, and then back to you.
"You want to take me with you?"
"Yeah." You stood up, hands still held on his shoulders. "I'll get you out of here. You can see what the real world is like. I'll take care of you." John rushed into you, his arms wravelled around your waist and a gasp escaped you in surprise. You patted him on the back, the strength in the hug increased as he adjusted his arms, but you didn't mind. He was really strong. Strong to the point that if you didn't have powers too, you'd probably be crushed by now. "Vogelbaum..." You cupped the back of John's head and he withdrew enough to look up at you. "I think it's time for me to get back out into the world again." You smiled brightly, and this time it was the first genuine smile you had given in years. "And John is coming too."
...
2022...
"The unexplained explosion at the Chimp Country Sanctuary is now being attributed to a gas leak. At this time, the bodies of countless chimps that were harbored at the sanctuary are being recovered by authorities. Including the body of the beloved hero, Crimson Countess. As you know, she was a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's fiancé. More information-"
"Those goddamned gas leaks..." You muttered under your breath, standing directly in front of the giant flat screen TV with a consterned expression on your face. "You can never trust'em, ya'know. One put me out a while back and I scarcely think I recovered from it." You were talking to no one in particular. You were in a smaller room with a window that spanned one side, giving a quarter view of a city landscape. There was a leather couch behind you, a coffee table in front of you, a bookshelf in the corner. Behind you, an elderly woman with silver hair, who had her back turned to you, was preparing a cup of coffee.
"I'm sorry, dear, what was-" As the elderly woman turned, she gasped and nearly dropped the steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She startled with a jolt, having to cling to the surface of the counter beside her to keep herself steady. "What the fuck, Phoenix..." The woman grumbled through bright red lips. "What happened to your clothes?!"
"I took them off. Helps me think better. Agnes!" You spun around, the woman rolled her eyes and began a slow walk toward you. "I've decided I'm going to be a vegetarian."
"Phoenix, honey..." The woman took her time bending down to put her coffee on the table. She then stepped up to you and placed her hands on your shoulders. "That is wonderful, but you have an interview in ten minutes and you are completely naked."
"Oh, it's no big deal." You waved Agnes away and stepped past her toward the window. "I'll throw my suit on when I'm good and ready."
You had become erratic over the years. Your train of thought was constantly everywhere, thinking everything, all at once. If you weren't keeping yourself busy somehow, you were thinking about things you didn't want to think about and that just wouldn't do. You were thinking about things that never even happened.
Oh no.
Too much thinking.
"Do you think I should be more upset that Countess is dead?" You sighed, Agnes plopped down on the couch in defeat. She had been working with you for the better half of twelve years and she knew you all too well to know that you weren't going to relent. "Like I'm not going to her memorial or anything, but..." You chewed the inside of youf cheek, "I thought I would be more upset."
"I don't know, dear. I really don't know."
Knock. Knock.
An orange head popped into the room, you recognized that it was Ashley, Vought's newest hero executive.
"Hey-" Who entered the room with a chirpy energy about her. "JESUS CHRIST!" There it was. "Why are you naked?!" Ashley cupped the side of her eye and turned her head away, clutching her clipboard like a vice to her chest.
"What's wrong, Ashley? See something you like?" You purred, leaning your shoulder into the window. "Urgh. You guys are so boring." You snapped your fingers at Agnes expectantly, she reached into the pocket of light pink button up and procurred a small packet of white powder. It was tossed haphazardly across the room, you swiftly swiped it from the air. "Is John coming?"
"Just uh-" Ashley was a stuttering at this point. "Will you please put clothes on?"
"Fine. I will. Answer my question." You scooped some cocaine from the packet and shoved it into your nose. White residue covered your nostrils and your finger as you had messily used the subtance. You sniffed heavily, nostrils flaring. You shoveled a second scoop and repeated the motion.
"No. Homelander has other pressing-"
"Fine." You shook your head, lips flapping comically. "Okay." You stood tall, "Get me my suit. It's show time."
Within minutes, the three of them were walking down a hallway. Persons were speeding back and forth with papers in hand and tasks to complete. You were at the head of the trio, weaving between the workers with ease, walking with purposeful and long strides. Your black cape flowed behind you with each step, boots thumping in time. Agnes was off to your right, struggling to keep pace in her old age and her high heels, and Ashley was already a nervous wreck so she was keeping up just fine but building a sheen of sweat.
"Let's go over the rules again." Ashley breathed heavily, the three of them paused at an elevator. Agnes hunched forward and tries to catch her breath. You paused and then sent Ashley the blankest expression. "Tell me. I need to make sure you know them."
"No telling people to fuck off on live TV."
"Yes. Next." Ashley prompted, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The three entered, Agnes hobbling behind.
"No mentioning sex on TV."
"Anything sexual, don't mention it." Ashley explained further, nodding to herself. "Next." You crossed your arms and pinched your chin, eyes narrowing in thought.
"Um..." You shook your head, "It has something to do with minorities, doesn't it?"
"Politics." Ashley firmly aided, "No political talk."
"But-"
"No. Please." Ashley was genuinely begging. The last time you were on TV and you made a major messup, it wasn't on Ashley's shoulders. Now, it was on Ashley's shoulders to make sure that this interview went as smoothly as possible. And it only made matters worse in knowing that the person hovering over her was not the normal Vought executive. It was Homelander now.
Stillwell was gone. Stan Edgar was on his way out the door. And Homelander was officially set lose. No one was safe.
The doors dinged open and they walked out, arriving at the floor on Vought tower typically used for the news. The studio was already set up, workers were everywhere. You made a path straight for the empty spot on the couch beside Cameron Coleman: Vought's celebrity news anchor. As soon as you came into view, the usual ruckus of a studio set dissipated into murmurs and quiet. Coleman stood and held his hand out, he was anxious. You had a reputation for being a hastle to keep control of, you didn't blame him. You only made it worse when instead of shaking his hand, you grabbed it, flipped it over and kissed his knuckles.
"Wrong answers only." You winked at him, to your amusement, he became more flustered than he already was. You took your seat, swinging your cape up behind you to keep it from getting caught. Through all the bright lights directed at you, you saw Ashley waving frantically. She pointed at you when you met her gaze and mouthed, *Behave*. You spotted Agnes beside her and stuck your tongue out between two fingers, the obscene gesture made the woman turn red and she turned away.
"Are we ready?" Coleman asked as he buttoned his suit jacket and sat down. Someone behind the camera held up a thumb and then a count down started. Loud music blared in the background, Coleman's face grew stern and he stared at the camera.
"Is our government doing what it needs to protect us from this super-villain threat? Can we trust our leaders to take the proper stand and protect our nation? Here, I invite a former member of Payback and current hero against the super-villain threat overseas, Phoenix, how are you today?"
Everything was going well...
At first.
Ever since heroes were allowed into combat, publicly, Vought had put you in the Middle East. You had been taking down terrorists in caves and capturing enemy territory for almost an entire year before Vought brought you back. Vought didn't tell you why they brought you back, but you could assume it was because of your conduct. You weren't being very merciful over there. Targets that were supposed to be detained, were killed.
And how were you supposed to know the difference? They all acted the same anyways.
The truth was, you had gone way off the rails over there. Bringing you back was Vought's way of trying to maintain the peace. At this point in time, the government liked having heroes overseas. They wouldn't like it much longer if you continued being a problem.
So now, in the months following your return to America, you had become something of a spokesperson. You were labeled an American hero, a soldier, another defense against those 'vile super-villains'-as John so insisted they be called.
But really. Truly. You weren't okay. You hadn't been okay for a long time. Something was off. In your head. Your ventures in the Middle East had only made it worse.
You answered all the questions with conviction and a charming smile. Ashley even gave you the thumbs up, because everything was going great.
Until it wasn't...
"Phoenix, I'd like to touch on one more subject before you leave us today and I'm sure it will be a tough one..." Oh boy, you thought, another curve ball that you hadn't prepared for perhaps? "Crimson Countess..." Dread filled you, Coleman shifted in his seat and sent you a sad smile. You knew it was all an act and you prepped yourself to do the same. "In light of her death, is there anything you'd like to say? Any fond memories you have that you'd like to share?"
"Uh..." You shrugged, feeling a little panicked. You still didn't know how you felt about any of it because, frankly, you felt nothing for her. "Not really. Her and I weren't very close." Coleman's eyebrows furrow, that answer didn't seem to satisfy him.
"Really? But didn't you serve alongside her for four years?" You saw in the corner screen, facing the set, the images they were broadcasting. They were of the past. Crimson and you were clinging to eachother in one photo, laughing about a joke you don't recall. Another photo of the both of you, fighting crime together. Another photo of you standing side by side at a charity gala, dressed to impress, smiling brightly. "Surely, you both used to be great friends. What happened?" You squinted, head cocking to the side, the photos were removed from the screen and the small tv went black. Then it was the mirror image of Coleman and you, sitting on the red leather couch. You stared at yourself, at the consternation in the mirror image. "After Soldier Boy passed, I imagine you both would have gotten closer? Am I wrong? Phoenix?" Coleman insisted, your head began to throb.
Soldier Boy?
What did he have anything to do with this?
You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.
"Soldier Boy?" You were trying to catch yourself, but miserably failing. Your eyes shot up to Coleman and he raised a brow at you.
"Phoenix, are you okay? Talk to me." He was just prodding, as any interviewer would, given the circumstances. You gulped, then looked to Ashley who waved aggressively at you to continue talking.
But before you could speak, a rush of memories overcame you. You felt like your brain was being trampled on by a herd of buffallo.
Images of what you knew...
Fading.
The nuclear power plant in Ohio...
Soldier Boy laying on the ground...
It was almost like...
"Please try not to cause trouble out there." That charming smirk encompassed his face and you felt warm at just the sight of it. You were surprised to say that you were glad he stopped by. It wasn't like anyone else on the team had bothered.
"Honey, trouble is my middle name." You laughed at him, but your giggle was cut short with a harsh cough that sent you hunching forward. You felt his hand at your back and when you looked up you saw the deep scowl on his expression.
"Get Vogelbaum in here again. I don't like this."
"It's fine. I'll be okay. When you get back from Nicaragua, I'll be good as new." You attempted a reassuring smile, but it failed you. You looked more uncomfortable and the wince from the sharp inhale in your lunge did not go unnoticed.
"You better be." Soldier Boy cupped under your chin and you both stared at eachother before he withdrew. "I'll be back before you know it, hot stuff." He winked at you before turning away and heading down the hall.
...
It never happened.
The nuclear power plant never happened, but how could that be?! You have memories of escorting people away from danger, putting out fires, and Soldier Boy? You recall him telling you to...
"Go save the civilians. I'll take care of this."
You could hear his voice echo in your head, those exact words.
Before he died.
Before you found him laying in a mess of concrete and he was in your arms and you were crying because even if he was an asshole a part of you always loved him.
And then nothing...
"Phoenix?" Coleman called, snapping you from your trance like state once more. You blinked at him, then you gulped. Your throat had gone dry.
"I don't know." You answered grimly, "Actually, I should be going." You stood up and slowly walked off the stage. The crowd of crew members surrounding the set parted for you and watched in confusion as you walked away. Ashley met your side with furious steps.
"What happened?!" She was panicking. Everything was going good. What happened?! "You need to go back up there!" You had gotten as far as the elevator when Agnes was jogging up behind the both of you.
"Phoenix, honey, what's wrong?" You stared blankly at the seam of the elevator doors.
"Soldier Boy..." Your eyes rose to Ashley and they furrowed at her. "Where is his grave site again?"
"Washington D.C., I think, next to the Lincoln Memorial." Ashley answered in a weak whisper, she was looking at you in horror. "Why?"
Ding!
The elevator doors slid open and you entered them. Neither Agnes or Ashley followed, they gazed at you with questioning looks and you didn't give them any answers.
The doors slid shut behind you.
You were gone.
Return to Master list
#soldier boy x reader#reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy#the boys#payback#oc hero name#crimson countess#vought international#tnt twins#black noir#homelander#the seven
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any time Vogelbaum comes up, I'm positively floored by Homelander's painfully human attachment to him. I'm undone by the quote:
"When he was a little boy, he was quite sweet. He'd cuddle up to me. He loved stories about Davy Crockett. Teddy Roosevelt. Loved the idea of the woods, the forest."
there was a time when Jonah Vogelbaum was the closest thing Homelander had to a father. a man who told him stories and fed his imagination with stories about the world he was kept far away from. and he chose to murder that little boy in almost every conceivable way because he "needed him to be the strongest man in the world."
and yet still. still, Homelander could never bring himself to retaliate. he never lost his love, however twisted and broken and full of fear it may have been, for the man who raised him. it wasn't until Homelander realized his own child was being kept from him that he could lift a hand against the man.
even then, he couldn't kill him. and the look on Homelander's face when Vogelbaum rolls into that courtroom? that scared little boy expression?
the whole thing makes me sick. fuck vogelbaum.
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To that anon who asked about Hisana/Christina in the Boys universe— sorry idk what happened to the original ask, I was in the middle of replying when I think I accidentally deleted it. I do think she would absolutely hate it there 😂
In one timeline, Vought took Soldier Boy’s genetic material and used it to create what they hoped would be an upgraded version of him, an infant boy with the potential to be their greatest, most powerful, and more importantly, most profitable weapon yet. In another timeline, they asked themselves— why stop at just a boy?
The name of the male, John, was easy enough to come up with. The name of the female was harder. One person proposed Jane, but Vogelbaum discarded that suggestion immediately. John and Jane…it seemed a little too trite. Several other names were thrown into the mix— Sarah, Jessica, Emily, Laura. In the end, it was a low level intern that came up with the one that stuck.
“How about Christina?”
Christina. A good, solid American name, with connotations of God and Christianity to boot. It was unanimously approved.
Christina it was.
Lol I’m picturing tiny toddler Christina just, like, aggressively debating the ethics of her own upbringing the moment she’s able to talk, while the Vought scientists look on wringing their hands anxiously because what the fuck, who taught this kid morals?? We didn’t program her to have those!!! Why couldn’t she just be casually homicidal like the other one, at least we expected that, prepared for that, not this making us question our life’s work and want to be better people bullshit, ugh.
(If anyone asked Jonah Vogelbaum who his favorite was, John or Christina, he’d respond that he valued them equally. A father wasn’t supposed to have favorites, after all, and as far as the outside world was concerned, that was what he was.
He wasn’t their father, though. If he was, he’d never have been able to do the things he did to them. And if that meant he was slightly less than impartial towards them…well, he rather thought that was the least of his crimes.
If anyone asked Jonah Vogelbaum which one he would save, if given the option to only save one, he’d choose John without hesitation. But only because he knew Christina would ask him to.)
(And if every so often, footage containing her most damning anti-Vought rhetoric gets accidentally deleted, well— who’s to say technical difficulties can’t occur even with the most state of the art technology?)
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A New Discovery (Butchlander)
Cozy corner kinktober prompts: overstimulation; kink of choice: tickling
Warnings: a tiny bit of angst for a second and a half, but mostly fluff!
“What the fuck was that?”
William is pushing himself up from the floor, stupefied. Then he looks up at the ceiling, and Homelander’s eyes automatically follow his gaze.
“I- I don’t know,” is all the supe manages. That’s the truth. One moment, he and William were making out on William’s bed (yes, Homelander insisted on buying him a proper bed frame), and the next, he sent William flying half the way across the room.
There’s a hole in the ceiling right above Homelander’s head, small embers raining down on him, settling on the sheets and on his bare skin. The hole doesn’t go all the way to the next floor, he notices with relief.
It’s at best a small relief though.
He’s not lost control of his lasers in well over ten years. Certainly not badly enough to cause real damage. Burning holes into walls, and — fuck. William. “Did I… did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”
“Nah. All peachy.” William gets up, dusts himself off and climbs back up on the mattress to inspect the damage from up close. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers. If the circumstances were any different, Homelander would probably enjoy the view. “That V shite really keeping its promises. Not a scratch on my body, love.”
Even when William pretends to be all sarcastic about the pet name, there’s usually some affection. Or so Homelander likes to tell himself. This time though, he’s not so sure.
The frown on William’s face is spreading as he’s prodding the hole in the ceiling, blinking away any ash and debris falling into his eyes.
Homelander grabs William’s blanket and wraps it around himself.
In the lab, this kind of loss of control would have meant no interactions with staff except food trays shoved angrily into his cell three times per day for at least a week. Vought would still make him practice on a target of course, but nobody was allowed to speak with him or even look at him. It was like Homelander didn’t exist. You have to understand, John, Vogelbaum would say later, we just can’t afford for you to be sloppy. We need you to have full control of your powers.
William is still muttering curses.
Frankly, Homelander didn’t expect he’d be so attached to this decrepit apartment. “I’ll pay to have the ceiling fixed,” he says quickly, realizing the mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth.
“I don’t want your fucking money,” William snaps without turning his head to look at Homelander. “Why do you people always think money’s gonna fix everything? Why do you-”
He stops mid-sentence, but Homelander knows how it was going to end: something about supes being careless, ruining people’s lives, because they know Vought will sweep in to offer a check. He’s heard these words so many times out of William’s mouth. He can feel a burning sensation behind his eyes and quickly closes them before there’s another accident.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really don’t know what happened. It makes no sense.”
He was sprawled on the mattress, his back arched, William tracing kisses down his body. He remembers briefly doubting the wisdom of having let William talk him into taking off his suit. All of his suit. He remembers William touching him, caressing him. It felt weird. Wrong. He tried to ignore it for a little while, but the feeling just kept getting more intense: not quite a tingle and not quite an itch, but somehow so much worse than either. Then William’s hands sent a sudden jolt through his body, and all he remembers is the urge to get away from this strange sensation, no matter what.
The rest, well, the rest of the story is little flakes of ash raining down on him from the ceiling.
Homelander buries his head in the blanket. This wasn't how he expected this night to end.
William’s arms wrap around him. “Eh. Don’t worry about it.” His heart is still beating faster than usual, but that’s probably just the aftereffect of being tossed across the room. Whatever anger he felt before is gone.
“Don't you worry about a thing, beautiful.” He peels the blanket off of Homelander’s shoulders and pushes him onto his back, resuming where they left off five minutes earlier, leaving Homelander gasping and squirming.
Something still isn’t right though. He can feel each and every hair of William’s beard on his skin, every touch of his fingers almost unbearable and—
“Stop! Stop!”
William stops, looks up. “What?”
“I… I don’t know.” He can’t put into words what exactly isn’t right.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. No, no. It’s not that. It’s just-” It’s like his skin, which is supposed to protect him against fire, ice, bullets, is suddenly no longer doing its job. “I- I think my skin is malfunctioning. Or maybe my supe senses... I don’t know-” Homelander’s never had to think much about how exactly his body works. All he knows is that this isn’t supposed to happen.
William is studying him for a moment. Then he says: “Lie back down. I wanna try something.”
Homelander complies. He’s about to ask what the heck William wants to try when he feels his fingers lightly brush over his belly. This time, he can hear himself let out the most embarrassing little squeal before curling into a ball. At least he managed not to singe the ceiling this time.
William is laughing. “Your skin ain’t malfunctioning,” he says, a grin on his face. “You’re just ticklish.”
Homelander stares at him, mouth open, trying to think of something to counter. He’s heard of people being ticklish before. He’s read about it in books and seen it in movies. He technically knows what it is, though it always seemed like just another silly, human thing. A weakness, for sure. There’s no way he is ticklish. “Nonsense,” he mutters.
William’s grin widens. “Oh, I think you are.”
“I’m not!” Last thing Homelander needs is some stupid weakness.
“Alright,” William says. “Let’s try something then. Arms above your head.”
Homelander complies, suddenly wary, watching as William climbs on top of him and pins both his wrists with one hand. And then, without warning, he digs his other hand into Homelander’s undefended side.
This time, William hits the wall on the other side of the room, landing on the floor with a thud.
Still, there's the smuggest little grin on his face as he gets up. “You’re not just ticklish. You’re off-the-fucking-charts ticklish!”
Homelander wants to protest, but all the bits and pieces of knowledge about this sensation he’s never felt before are gradually coming together. It does make some sense, he has to admit. For a moment, he’s angry at Vought for their oversight: for desensitizing him to the most excruciating pain yet somehow managing to leave him with the silliest weakness possible.
“Fucking hell,” William says. “I can’t believe nobody’s figured this out before.” His eyes wander back to the hole in his ceiling. “Well, I suppose I can see why they wouldn’t have tried.” He’s laughing at his own joke, almost giddy with the excitement of his new discovery.
This cheerfulness is very unlike William, and it’s one Homelander doesn’t share. “I don’t need this kind of… deficiency. I can’t afford it. I’m the Homelander. What are people going to think when they find out?”
“Well, you're right, we can't have that.” The smug grin still hasn’t left William’s face. “We’re just gonna have to desensitize you then, won’t we, love?”
#cozy corner kinktober#butchlander#homelander x billy butcher#prompt: overstimulation#tickling#homelander#billy butcher#fluff#the boys#the boys fic#my fic
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mirrorlander guided ego masturbation sesh, featuring blood and finger sucking.
or something.
look at yourself. you think you should feel shame for this?
He shook his head.
they don’t deserve remorse. they don’t deserve our respect. everything they’ve done to you… you think they care? you think any of them have ever given it a second fucking thought? even Vogelbaum, he regretted it, sure, but only because you came after him.
That was right. That was right. If he’d never fucking shown up, never sought answers… He’d never have come for forgiveness. Fuck, if he’d regretted it…
it’s nothing but a medal, buddy. you should be proud. look at yourself.
A step closer to the mirror. Drenched in blood, mostly dry, the form of perfection. A God. Sculpted by the hand of man, cast down for behaving as such. They fear what is stronger. What they can’t control.
they do. they do, they fucking do. and you may not like it, buddy, but fear is the way to go. fear is the way to control these fucks.
A nod. Gloved hand reaching out, reflection doing the same. Fingers to fingers in the glass. Companionship. All he desired, all he could only give himself.
Other hand reaching down. Unzipping, reaching inside, taking himself out.
you’re the fucking greatest. the fucking greatest superhero. you remember how they screamed?
Yeah.
screamed your name, for you to stop, as you did back then. didn’t stop, did they? carried on. So why the fuck should you ever stop? these humans, these sick fucking mud people, they’re nothing. nothing. they should worship at your fucking feet.
Yeah.
They should.
Hard, now, hand moving slowly, eyes watching, fixated on his his hand moved, how his cock looked as the skin slipped over the head and back down, how the slit glistened as he worked himself.
you’re not there yet, but you will be, and then we’ll do it. communications towers, general infrastructure, military bases… white house... we’ll show them all what the fuck we’re capable of.
‘And then they’ll all worship me?’
too right, buddy. then they’ll all worship you. fucking throw themselves at you, because they’ll know you spared the lives of them, and you could snuff it out in an instant, just like you did tonight.
Yeah.
Yeah.
He liked how he looked covered in blood. Hand moving from the glass of the mirror to his lips, one finger, two fingers, into his mouth, grunting as he took them deep. The taste of iron strong. The fear made it sweeter.
they’ll all know that you’re the only man in the fucking sky. you’re the only God they ever fucking needed.
Another grunt, leaning forward, head pressed to the mirror, pressing his hand to the glass again, a smear streaking where saliva and blood mixed.
‘You’re so good to me.’
i always will be, buddy, I’m here for you. i love you, right?
Right.
come for me. come on, buddy. come for me.
A groan. Heat splattering the reflection of his cock. Once, twice…
…Fuck, he was a mess.
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I mean, Billy Butcher has been deflecting, especially in season 3. It's a cruel irony because Billy faced violence and abuse since childhood, but it didn't make him more protective of other children nor empathetic of SOME supes, I suppose in some ways he's detached from them, sorta like turdlander, that exposure to violence and malice so early in life... a disturbance to his mind. Sure he shows small tingue of guilt more than creeplander does, but I think there's just too much at stake for billy to risk attachment.. and what has attachment brought him anyway?
he's actually a pretty common statistic for the society we live in. capitalism is... fucking awful~<3
he's ableist racist trash, of course he's not gonna give a shit as long as he chooses to remain ignorant, arrogant, and blame the supers for their blood instead of the fucking entity that made them.
the whole time if people haven't fucking noticed:
for billy it's been, "homelander, homelander, some random supe killing~, but oh homelander~<3!"
BUT FOR EVERYONE ELSE IN THE BOYS, IT'S BEEN:
"VOUGHT. LET'S TAKE DOWN VOUGHT."
it is BILLY that veers them towards the reckless killing and hyperfocuses the operations on homelander. and it shows, exponentially how much of an addiction and obsession (to the detriment of everyone else) he has in season 3, where he's fed up with 'managing' the right way and having to listen to hughie when it comes to holding supes accountable.
people seem to keep forgetting that scene with raynor but she said it perfectly, "you should be terrified of what can happen if you push him too far." but billy does not care *because* he doesn't care about anyone else, he just keeps pushing.
people keep acting like 'homelander must be stopped' and i'm like... 'okay, do you mean the FUTURE version of him that goes berserk???' cause all i see right now is someone who is at the verge and needs *serious help* as well as a self fulfilling fuckin' prophecy being pushed by those around him, *especially* billy.
he is a ticking time bomb, but he hasn't gone off yet. and the fact that people want to fight that with more explosives to 'destroy' the bomb thinking there won't be collateral *instead* of fucking diffusing it i--
homelander more often gets judged for what he *can* do rather than what he *has* done, and that's not to minimize what he has done, that's to say that he's still in a place where he *could* get treatment and maybe get better but most people... do not give a shit because of what he *could* do in the long run, and in all honesty, kinda not really all that fair?
and then the second hughie finds out about neuman? he panics and pins her as a bad guy *because* she is 'the head popper'/a supe
i want to take a second to point out that while i don't think her intentions are necessarily 'good' and that she's getting desperate, we still have no clue as to what the full scope of her own plans actually are.
and watching back the scene where she 'blows up congress', i noticed something, she seemed scared. almost like she was having a panic attack or flashback or some kind of ptsd episode after seeing vogelbaum, which i just would not be surprised had that been the case. but she *looks* like she *lost control* for a moment and then picked it back up after the fact. and homelander points it out, 'you're not his daughter, you're his weapon' and he's right.
i would wager (what am i sayin', pretty fuckin' sure here) that some if not most of her kills (including raynor) were for the most part on orders for stan edgar's plan *before* homelander hijacked the situation. but to put it bluntly, vicky is also stuck in the vought cult and also a major victim of circumstance. she's a brutal assassin too, but that is exactly what the supes are trained to be. because they are vought's new marketed weapons and they are seen as exactly that by the company itself.
stan lied when he claimed they were a pharmaceutical company. they are a weapon's company.
but going back to billy,
as far as guilt goes, of course homelander isn't gonna show any, he has no understanding of what he would even feel guilty for
"Evil is knowing better, but willingly doing worse."
finally took the time to look up that quote and it's by philip zimbardo.
if we go by this (which i am a firm believer in) and make this our standard for evil in its *purest* form. many characters in the story do this and are capable of it to some degree, and plenty are also not. but~
none moreso than billy.
AND
with exception to homelander.
this means that within context, homelander is the only character that is truly *incapable* of committing *true evil* because he has *no understanding of the moral question*. it's sort of a defaulted thing, but think of it like judging a hippo, a highly aggressive and territorial animal, for killing a person that wandered into it's territory. the hippo is responding within reasonable *nature*, so it hasn't technically committed evil, even if it's caused harm.
it's a fucking hippo, the humans wandered into its territory, it's just gonna do how hippos do! WE are the ones in the wrong here if we refuse to understand that!
likewise, an actually more apt comparison for homelander would be an abused zoo or circus animal, plainly because *he has never once been treated as a human being or been presented with the moral question* and quite the contrary, i actually think vought made an effort to ensure he *didn't* understand these things in any sound capacity to ensure they could maintain control of him, or rather, they deliberately screwed up his ability to analyze things and think critically *as a human being/from a human perspective* because it would be inconvenient for them (also honestly, i feel like if someone took him to a zoo, he'd go berserk and release all the animals--)
and we see this in different instances. of course there are moments where the boi is super mean spirited or bullying someone, but it's not just because he can or wants to, it's because *that's what was done to him and he knows no different*, he lived through nothing but cruelty so that is all he knows and it's his *normal*. couple that with being brought up to believe the beings around him are somehow 'lesser' or that he is 'not one of them' and it causes a whole mess of problems...
billy is the exact opposite of this. he is *fully aware* of the moral question, *fully aware* of what he is capable of and what he does and how it affects other people. *fully aware* of cruelty AND kindness, has experienced both and even given both. hell, he's even fully aware of how to emotionally manipulate people *with* his own emotions and situation and any *guilt* he feels. and i've said it before, and i'll say it again.
HE KNOWS BETTER. he just CHOOSES to do worse. and he even knows *that*. billy is evil and chooses to be while homelander has never had that chance to learn that there's even a difference.
and then billy goes and makes it worse because he also *weaponizes* what he's learned and what he's been through. so you're definitely right about that last bit.
there is too much at stake for him to risk attachment, that's why he also *detaches* himself from people (like ryan) or stabs them in the back to pursue what will inevitably eventually destroy him and everyone else.
if i'm completely honest? i think the self awareness in how evil billy is ends up being part of his game. there is a huge part of him that pushes because he *wants* to lose, the part of him that's *not* evil, feels guilt, and *wants* to stop himself but can't. and that would be the point he turns to outside sources to fulfill that need and self punishment
i think part of why he pursues homelander isn't because *he* wants to stop or destroy homelander, but because he believes homelander may be the only thing that can stop and destroy *him*.
#homelander#the boys#billy butcher#meta#victoria neuman#abuse#character analysis#we create our own demons#and sometimes#we become our own demons#oof ouch owie#the boys tv#the boys amazon#the boys comics#the intricacies of these two characters are truly fascinating#i feel like billy doesn't get explored nearly as deeply as homelander#but he's got some very interesting elements that aren't talked about all that much#i mean i do get it tho#starr just steals the whole damn show#lmao
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