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plasticfangtastic · 10 months

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Can We Be Lonely Together? Ch. 11

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is also a supe! reader fic, GN reader but male leaning.

Author's note: Thanks for all who've read this so far, only 1 more chapter to go unsure if I shoudl write a short epilogue. This is a long chapter, wanted to post this last Sat. but R.L. got in the way.

R18+ mild smut, murder mention, cheating, bruise kink, drug mention, long chapter.

Chapter 11

For us

After the cops showed up, the evening had become a blur, cops had come over the bullet that shook the whole floor, conveniently soon your neighbor had called the cops about an out of control supe, Homelander had stepped out claiming that his friend had called him frightened by the gunshot sounds, the neighbor melted at the sight of the handsome Super accepting a quick CashApp transfer to paid for damages after exchanging details for Vought lawyers, while throwing a quick embarrassing lie about allergens and the physiological nature of superpowers.

You hadn’t care much for it as moments after– you were flung around his shoulders and taken miles away, back into Vought towers not the 62 floor but down the basements’s besements, beneath layers of concrete, in walls so thick you could’ve bet your ass you were trapped in the same facility that once held Homelander– but instead of bare walls and stilted air conditioner breeze, you got beeping machines , a nurse looked over as your eyes opened, saying nothing towards you, instead to your guest of honor, Homelander lowered his copy of “Reminders of Him” he waved his hand urgently towards the nurse to leave.

He had been so caring making sure of emptying the floor leaving only a single nurse and doctor left hovering around for your comfort.

“Morning Pusher.”

A light smile crossed your lips, the way Homelander had mentioned your “hero” name made it blatantly obvious of whom he was referring to deep down, it was amusing.

“It must’ve been fate… that both me and your arch nemesis names rhyme.”

“Some sweet irony I recond, you’re far cuter than William if that’s any consolation.”

“You still jerked off to that guy.”

“The accent… is irresistible.”

He clicked his tongue straightening himself, placing a nude hand on your forehead brushing loose strands off your face.

“I prefer you over William." His face turned stern-- Your body is wrecked. The V… has likely caused you permanent cognitive decline, you suffered loss of gray matter according to the doctor, which made your already unstable powers even more unstable. The V was just a piece of sticky tape holding what it had broken… your heart is fairly erratic and your blood pressure” he shakes his head wide eyed– is awful, even if you quit cold turkey your brain is ruined– you ain’t like A-Train you can’t get a new heart and be all hunky dory.”

“And the good news is…?”

“Your body will heal your cardiovascular system eventually, and maybe over time your healing abilities regardless of how limited they are… might heal your brain… but I already have a couple supes in mind that could potentially help you.”

“Basically I did this to myself.”

It hurt taking fistfuls of your blanket, harsh lines formed on the bridge of your nose.

“Pusher… ugh… Y/N you can’t take anymore V! I can keep you here where it’s quiet until you start feeling better.”

It failed to sound like a request.

“You already told Deep about me… am surprise you didn’t kill him”

You changed the topic.

“He was pleading and crying telling me he was being blackmailed by you. Sounded like something you would do.”

He stroke circles on your forehead leaning closer until his body rested entirely on the bed’s handles, pulling his chair towards you breaching in all the remaining space as his book felt with a loud thud into the ground, he wanted to laid beside you but all the cables put him on edge that just too much pressure and your already thin veins will pop open, squirting all over the place. In truth both him and John had known of your health simply blaming to your use of V and other narcotics, hoping it would cure itself. Yet you pulled on his sleeve raising your arm above your head urging him to join, his eyes turned black and wide rushing in an instant to taste your warmth, relaxing as your heartbeat picked up– it excited him, reassuring him that it was still functional.

Placing his hand delicately around your stomach, a flash of sound creeps into your mind thinking of the corpse in your bedroom.

It had been a long two day coma while Homelander watched and allowed selected hands to touch you. You kissed the top of his head having a quiet conversation where neither of you spoke, just the sound of the machines and fingers exploring surfaces and each other, both hoping that this tranquility would last a minute longer.

“What did you tell John? About Firecracker, and shit?”

“John is asleep for now… I broke up with her'' He shoved his hand into a hidden compartment on the back of his belt pulling out a thin albeit outdated iphone– see I texted her.”

It was a long chain of message bubbles after a simple “We’re done ;)” he kept scrolling down her replies hadn’t really stopped for the last two days.

“He’s angry at me… but I told him that Firecracker was a fling… why waste our time with that! When this works so well– I told him that you forgive him… us, and that you’re here because of your drug habit.”

He kissed the bottom of your jowl, scooting closer as if that was even possible.

“You lied to him?”

“Lying to oneself doesn’t count, pumpkin.” He murmured against your neck– I told Ashley to keep an eye for her just in case she tries making a scene… she’ll be more than just fired if she tries to get back at me.”

“Or I could just read her mind and give you the heads-up.”

That got him excited.

“I’ll make sure it’s all perfect.” he kissed you again.

He kissed your chest, catching a whiff of your sweat, scrunching his hand on your blanket, two days of watching you immobile terrified him, to think you wouldn’t be there to cuddle him until he sleep, of stroking his hair gently until he woke up from his nightmares, of never feeling your tender flesh shivering under him.

He needed you to comfort him… always.

He wanted you next to him for every dawn to come.

“That girl… she was… she was my mother…” His eyes were hidden but you felt their sting– I look a lot like my grandfather… His name is Otto y’know. That aunt of mine, she looks nothing like her. John was happy… that you did all of that to give us a family, I might need your help to calm him down about wanting to meet them, our cousins are still young so we can’t hang out but Ryan could”

“You took the body to the police…?”

It had been a strange memory to witness, Homelander had called the last detective that had kept working on the cold case, personally flew him to witness the corpse while selling him a crazy story, his biological grandmother had dementia and cancer so it would’ve been impossible to get any information corroborating Homelander claim that she was another one of Vought Compound V recipients, and the receipt he had faked held too much weight.

His aunt had come this morning, her hair a mess and her skin clammy– she had been frightened.

A ghost slept peacefully in the metal slab, hardly touched by time questioning nothing about the V, simply accepting that it would be something her parents could’ve done.

The corpse was still fresh, by the time it had traveled from your home to the Vought morgue, it had shown no signs of deterioration, her skin still dewey and peach, her lips still pink and her fingers still soft, the pathologist was just as baffled as to how her body stood so fresh, ever her eyes were wet– she was dead but her body had missed the memo.

The woman had shared, that their mother had been a professional ballerina, she had traveled the world until she met Otto a man 12 years her junior, and decided to start a family– Frida had been talented but her mother was cruel forcing her to dance until all her toes had broken twice, and her father desired nothing but perfection from her which was rich coming from a drunk. She had ran away, and for two weeks they assumed she was with some boy that had caught her fancy… Homelander was the only man who knew the truth.

Even thinking of it in your arms made him whimper, lingering on the memory of his mother fading warmth, John dawdled on the memory while staring at her untouched corpse… of what if’s– Would he have grown loved? This woman was only eleven years older than him, could've been more sister than aunt, would he have been spoiled by her? Would he have grown to be a dancer like his grandmother? Or a gymnast like his grandfather?

John wanted to tell them somehow.

To agree that his mother had been a runaway, who met a boy got pregnant and due to her circumstances was unable to get an abortion, that she gave birth at a clinic ran by Samaritan’s embrace who gave him V, and soon after she had run away leaving Homelander nothing but a short papertrail, John could’ve sold the Vought storyline, that he was adopted by his fake TV parents or diverge… Claim she was found by Vought one way or another willfully handling her infant to them. No matter how he tried to sell it, his mother couldn’t be a martyr, she couldn’t be pious– if he wanted to lie to them.

His Aunt held the corpse until her whimpers and the cries of animals were indistinguishable, waking him from his trance.

Grateful that Homelander had finally brought her peace, that she could finally grieve and heal, to know her sister had come home… They had wished you'd been there… the way the woman stared at him– had his design evoke a deja-vu? She showed him pictures of her sons and how one looked just like her sister, as if he didn’t look carved from the same stone as Homelander, the teenage boy looked so much like him even if the nose was all wrong.

You stroke his hair, seeking to comfort him for John was too upset and only wanted to sleep, to remain oblivious to all… angry and upset at his brother.

It would be a couple more days before you were allowed out the infirmary, an armed bodyguard escorted you home, your place had been cleaned– not a spec of hair or dust had been left behind and all your damaged furniture had been replaced with identical replicas, your fridge had been restocked of all expired items and made to look brand new, even the damaged wall had been completely repainted leaving it with a glossy finish, your clothes had been neatly folded and not even one single dirty sock had been left on the plastic laundry basket.

The guard had been given a simple instruction to make sure you made it home safely, and for you to pack a day bag as Homelander had requested your stay for a couple days, just as a precaution, you obeyed making sure to take some of your ingredients to cook for him as a thanks for doing so much.

He had doctors check on you daily, monitoring what he’d already recorded in his brain and made sure to think very loudly too, readying your medication for you, watching you take it even using his X-ray vision to make sure the Buprenorphine and others went down your throat, taking great care to carefully drop your beta blockers eye drops, watching your veins and heart react to it– Homelander had forced a routine and you comply not out of fear but out of novelty. Nobody had once cared for you in such way, he prepared your baths and clothes making sure to join you and wash your back, glad you always returned the favor. He had demanded Deep to restock the department. By the end of the second week of your stay, the entire department had been returned to its former glory, something your supervisor Anika was over the moon about, you couldn’t afford to stress your frail heart and damaged brain..

Before you knew it, you were barefoot in the kitchen humming old songs while a precocious child asked for your help with homework, Ryan had wanted all sorts of company more than anything– he had figure out his father had a soft spot for you, he was a spoiled child and out of the two adult he had access to (the second being Ashley) you were the only one willing to talk over with his dad about friends coming over and sleepovers… as if you both didn't have a tracker on the kid to make sure he was safe, plus you had him wired, there wasn’t a single childish conversation that you weren’t privy to anyhoo– mic or not.

Homelander had made routines and ceremonies, he would come home and your scenes began: the welcome homes, the picking of his gloves in lieu of coats and fedoras, a cold glass of milk while awaiting for dinner, listening to him catching up with Ryan, rubbing his shoulders after dinner (not that he felt it but it was a kind gesture nevertheless) and then the pre-bed cultus– washing his hair, listening to his loud moan as your fingers stroke roughly at his scalp, washing his back and letting his pamper you with lotion more expensive than it should be legal to sell, giggling alone as he wiped out the car polisher not that he understood what made it so funny to you, your conversations one sided only the sound of your voice filled the void within marbled walls, he loved the sound of his voice but there was a comfort that came from this unique brand of silence, constantly testing just how sharp your powers were, forcing himself to get used to them.

Homelander invited you to bed, suffocating you with his unusually high body temperature.

Kissing you until both your lips were bruised, nipping at your skin and painting purple constellations, marking you– this was his own brand of chains and collars, softer on your skin than metal, making sure nobody in this building would dare staring at his beloved, to remind you he was whom you belonged to, lost in the storm that was your eyes as you watched him paint you, feeling how hot your body became as he teased you further, your touch, your voice and your sight poisoned him with a love he was certainly began to doubt he deserved, how could you look at him so tenderly as he bit with such possessiveness, after forgiving his impulses.

As your apartment became more bare, and your fridge was left with nothing but unopened water bottles, you settled officially as a live-in maid.

In the eyes of Vought employees– of the few aware of your presence that had been his cover-up. Somewhat demeaning but it was the closest you both could get to a normal relationship at the time– you were a whole can of worm of dangerous loose ends, both your friends were clean on the outside: a rising star of the culinary world and former Supe whose extraordinary senses, could had once detected the smell of a bomb hidden inside an airport from the entrance or detected a trapped stranger under meters of rubble with just her hearing; Now used her keen senses to create extraordinary dishes. Your former handler, an accomplished journalist married to a high profile New York socialite with pedigree, A man who rubbed shoulders with the upper echelons of New York and country.

Two people whom it made sense for them to be friends with each other– not you.

A mystery with no past, no presence, no real name, and a long list of suspicious crimes, your friends were career criminals using their wealth and status to hide their amorality, how you came to befriend a cannibal and a two-face crook… not to mention Roman Ban and company was a mystery.

Homelander couldn’t even be certain that these friends of yours even knew your real name, or if they would as he burned all proof left in the Vought archives.

Homelander cleaned house for you.

If he ever wanted to present you to the world, he was going to make sure all your affairs were in order… Roman’s wife had received quite the visit when he found the star spangled icon in her living room, more surprised to learn he wasn’t just shorter in person but was quite the personality, all she needed was a head on her piano and a hefty manila folder curated by you to behave. His wife was smart enough to know when to give up, she had young grandkids to protect, and Homelander had been nice enough to remind her that her family had inherited a large sum.

In the face of death and money people were painfully predictable.

John had come from his slumber playing pretend around you both, letting his brother feed him talking points, as you helped Ryan set the lighting for his latest film you could hear them both catching up as his son watched his father do its weird staring routine.

Reminding yourself that you couldn’t reply to his silent questions, to open your mouth and to not be perfectly in sync with him.

Alone at last, as Ryan slept– he handed you the last pill for the day.

“Your heart is sounding a lot better.”

“It would be a lot better if you would slip me a buspirone or a xanax.”

He didn’t laugh, hiding your teeth under a hard line you avoided that judgemental glare, he had a hundred questions about what happened with his mother but he wasn’t ready to let you think he was crazy, his mind already toying with the idea of introducing you both, brushing your hair imagining crushing your neck if you responded the wrong way, kissing your neck right at the spot where he thought your bone would tear the skin open, the way you smell more and more like him filled him with delight, steering him away from such intrusive thoughts.

“Just joking mi sol… something bothering you?”

“Roman’s wife, she backed down but… his kids are continuing the investigation… should I give them a visit?”

He wanted reassurance, the way he stroked your neck down to your back watching your lungs inflate as you leaned into the black marble countertops.

“I almost want to say ‘I told you so, silly’ but I also wanna suggest a ‘team-up’”

He raised his eyebrow urging you to speak.

“I need to make a phone call.”

You dial an all too familiar number, even late at night you knew Bruno would answer your call– after all it had to be serious and urgent if Kent wasn’t answering your calls.

“Hey, I need to speak to Kent urgently.”

Bruno closed a door behind putting you on speaker as he walked around his lavish house.

“He’s in the office… I am starting to suspect he might’ve fallen asleep on his desk. I was just about to send one of my men to check up on him. He’s been covering the presidential election so he's been up and down the whole country following that Neuman…eugh”

“Not a fan? I’ll swing by his office then I’ll let you know if he's there… I was on my way there anyhoo.”

“That chick screams champagne liberal. Give her 2 weeks in office before she conveniently forgets all her selling points, plus have you seen her VP… anyways it was nice talking to you, ciao.”

You turned to John.

“What are you planning?”

“One of the things I would’ve used on Roman before you decided to kill him, call it Plan G. Now let me get a coat… y’know where the USA network offices are in the city right?”

He nodded and followed you as you took a coat and brushed your hair as neatly as you could with your hands.

“Let me take care of you, John. Let me take some of the weight of the world off your shoulders… you don't have to be Atlas on your own.”

Your hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, always watching him with that adoration not adulation in your big eyes.

Eyes had hardly moved him before he met yours, none would ever move them as much yours could, pulled by your invisible strings, he reluctantly agreed, he understood why his brother had strongly fallen for you.

Flying about the city, watching a myriad of colors, the city so quiet from this height. you arrived at the offices entering from the roof after breaking the roof door locks.

The offices were near empty, especially at this hour–a couple souls stayed behind working but unsurprisingly for Homelander you knew where you needed to go and the few that were around didn’t take note of you, mostly focusing on the hero close by,

Spotting his office you couldn’t even bother to knock.

“Don’t believe him when he says he thinks your article was incredible, he has definitely not read it.”

A couple files and knacks fell off his desk, as a young man's head came from behind the desk edge, mouth still sticky and Kent trying everything he could to hide his phallus.

“You know he's married with seven kids, right?” Your attention turned to your friend as you sat on the chair across from them– You’re lucky ‘cuz your husband was about to send one of his men to come check on you. Now scram!”

The man red like a beet wiped his face with his sleeve and with wobbly steps hurried out, turning suicidal and on the verge of tears as he saw Homelander blocking the door, shocked at the morbid chagrin on the Supe’s face, flashing his fangs as he watched the college intern run for his life.

“You blocked my number.”

“I said I never wanted to see you again.”

His fluster died down, putting his cock back in his trousers, throwing Homelander a dirty glance from the side, unafraid of the demon in spandex.

“Look if you had seven kids you would understand how sexless your life gets”

He said to Homelander for some odd reason, not that the man cared.

“What you don’t like waiting for the kids to go to sleep to have a quick fuck?” He replied, slightly irritated as you grinned towards Kent– can we get this over with, babe.”

“I agree with your owner. What do you want?”

“Release the news on Fowler Ban. Perks of babysitting his kids all this time… I got you enough shit to destroy that lil’shit.”

“What the crack, underage prostitutes or the possible murder?”

“All of it. Get the guys at Banvision distracted and away from me and him, now that Fowler and Sean took over the company it’d be perfectly timed.” You paused looking at the cumstains on the carpet– Fowler did kill that waitress at Bruno’s charity ball three years ago. I already emailed you the proof, check your spam folder.”

He turned to Homelander, he could see the scary supe but all he could think of was the small frightened little boy that was left alone in the dark for days until some lab coated freak remembered to feed him, he threw you a curious look figuring out that you had stayed silent about the dead kids, since that day Kent had been counting the days before he had to report on the end of the United States.

“Is not leverage you can use on me, and you should know that Kent.” You spat.

“I don’t want to die.” he chuckles– just surprised he’s kept you… Y/N is a handful, do you have what it takes to care for it?”

Kent stood up, wanting to see how far into the lion’s mouth he could put his fingers before its mawls dropped, Kent moved around until he could take your face pulling your chin up to examine the collar of hickeys, deducting just how possessive your new owner was from this alone and not the blinkers reflecting at the edge of his glasses, Kent pets your hair, stroking your cheeks with an intimacy that should only be known to Homelander.

“You will make him hate you in due time.”

“You hated me?” Homeland jumped as he heard your heart pick up.

“No. It takes a special kind of person to care for you… all your past lovers ran from you or stopped being good enough. Somebody always came by that ignited a flame… this one” He pointed at Homelander– you must be just as insane as they are to last this long”

“Get your fucking paws off Pusher before I shove your spinal cord up your own ass.”

A red light crossed the space between the two, earning Kent a chuckle even if his heart rate was highly elevated.

“Pusher. Damn… he even knows that… you must genuinely love him. I’ll write the piece not because I want to help you but because it’ll do me good in the long run. I trust Pusher to keep quiet about the intern, will you?”

“why would–

“We’ll stay quiet about Holsen. Is not like Homelander cares about your affairs.”

The red didn’t dissuade him, Kent continued to stroke you, gingerly teasing the man as the light continue to illuminate the room, Homelander didn’t attack more out of fear that this man would use you as a meat shield, mudblood or exalted being, it was hard to tell and he wouldn't risk a single scratch on your face, the way he held you so still as if you feared him, but more so the fact that you didn’t fight Kent, your sight solely focused on the skinny man.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever Homelander wasn’t privy to– had you enrapture, your heart rate erratic and the bitter stench of adrenaline attacking his nostrils.

“Don’t bother me again.”

He let go of you, even as you stood up your sight continued to follow Kent, taking Homelander’s arm as you pulled him out the office, trying to close the door behind you.

“By the way– you still interested in the Stillwell kid? I can have Dolores swing him a visit if you still convinced it's his bastard.”

He snorted as the door closed behind you thanks to the last bit of inertia.

You Froze, Kent was a vindictive man already sitting on his computer without care, you were a loose end for him, getting rid of you was the end goal, knowing this made your tongue bitter, you choked gasping slightly as your head crook towards your partner, his mouth agape, shaking slightly he watched the man every move, seeing how nonchalant he was behaving.

“What…w-what is he talking about… is he talking about Teddy?” The way his name rolled of his tongue was acrid, the vision of that child still in her arms, still stealing his most precious possession, the weightlessness of the child in his grip as he taunted Madelyn and Butcher, or its crying as he placed him on a bed of grass a few houses away from the explosion behind them and the temptation to have left him there, to let go of his love for that traitorous woman, but out of what little love he had clung to he made sure he would live– what the fuck is he talking about?”

“I… John… I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn’t see the need to stress you out so much after what happened to the girl” You clung to him forcing him to watch you plead, to feel your trembling being– I don’t even have any proof just a suspicion I discussed with Kent ages ago. He’s just being a bitch.”

“Why?” His voice is cold, still like a statue– why do you think Teddy was mine?”

Telling him the truth was out of the question, you knew just how bad he would be but in his mind he kept lingering on the last seconds of Stillwel’s life fantasizing that soon it would be your face copying hers, awaitign with his heart in histhroat for you to give him the wrong reply.

“There were no documents of Stillwell taking any IVF treatment– in the sense that there was no outside clinic she attended to receive it, she received multiple sessions but there were no receipts… I was bored trying to find something to give to Roman. I thought it was odd, in the end I found out she received the treatment at Vought obviously… She received two rounds of ICSI as part of her IVF treatment which proved successful.”

“ICSI…?”

“It’s what’s done in cases of male infertility.”

His eyes redden but he refused to cry, a strange half smiled creeped as he scoffed, her brows touched his mind racing.

“I thought that maybe… it was yours… because I mean everybody knew you two were close. I had no proof John, and you told me you couldn’t have kids easily.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Why? To stress you out!? To make you think that this William Butcher that’s been haunting you down– who brought your father to kill you! Also tried to kill your kid! He tried taking Ryan from you, yet he gleefully would’ve murder your other son!?” The poorly lit fluorescence office lost all its color as his blue eyes faded in and out a red hue– It was just a passing comment.”

John pushed your hands away, moving further away from you stomping on some of the desk in his way, a mare flick out of frustration sends desks crashing, cables sparkling as paper flew and screens cracked.

“I tried to kill Theodore. I was going to let Butcher blow himself and the kid… I hated Teddy… he took what was mine” His tongue spits that sentence with poisonous resentment– she was mine! And then she had that fucking handbag! Do you have any idea… do you have any idea of what it will do to me… if that kid… if Teddy is mine?”

“No, all I know is that I’ll be here for you. Madelyn hurt you… if she hid that from you… after knowing all these years you two were together just how much you wanted to have a family, if she did that and robbed you of your right to be there for him– then I’ll be there to help you deal with whatever it’d be that hurts you… I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, I am sorry if I had proof I would’ve told you but I had nothing!”

“Too high to remember to bring that up?”

“Pretty much.”

A part of him wanted you to flinch, to cry a little more but you returned to your icy demeanor.

How easy it came for you to switch, thinking of that man behind the door he had at least figured out whom you learned that from.

Homelander waved his arms in defeat, you didn’t chase after him.

He wouldn’t come home until dawn.

Left alone in the apartment after catching an Uber. He arrived through the balcony door as Ryan got ready for school and you packed his lunch, as you decorated his healthy bento box, he came in– his hair out of place, and his eyes puffy, his scowl sharper than your knife.

“Breakfast is almost done– made quiche muffins!”

Your eyes focused on slicing carrot sticks.

He stood silent watching you from the kitchen entrance.

“You look like you had too much tequila.” Your voice is meek– you want some coffee?”

“I went to see my aunt… just watched her from afar… then I went to Malta, found a small town, and just sat on people’s roof listening to these European hicks.”

“You killed them?”

You kept working casually, your indifference was comforting him.

“No. I just watched the sea… walked around the coast lines… broke some boats… is actually quite lovely. Malta… Monaco and Albania are quite beautiful… I should take you both to visit one day”

“Am I going to find out you sank a small mediterranean island in a minute?”

“I killed nobody…” His tone was so frank it was out of place– but I drank, found a winery… drank, puked a bit… kept drinking… I just… kept wondering about in the mediterranean…”

He told the truth, he had killed a couple animals and destroyed a small reef yet he had simply gotten buzzed, and pissed a lot.

He hadn’t cried which surprised you.

He wrapped his arms behind you, pressing his head against you, where it had always belonged he thought, your perfume a gentle caress after pointless meandering, his body fighting off the alcohol with ease there was hardly any remains of wine in his system but it remained in his breath, at least your skin was delicious.

John wanted to be enveloped in you, to be forever held and adored, all his rage melted at the sight of you still in your jammies, with an apron tied around you, your eyes were swollen and the bags under them just as big, but here you were doing everything you could to stay strong for a kid that wasn’t yours, and for him.

“You love me?”

“I love you… what’s wrong?” your worried pinch him.

“I don’t want to drink ever again… it tastes awful. I… Is not your fault, you had no reason to tell me about Teddy, no proof, nothing but a vague papertrail… but don’t ever hide anything from me… nothing… no matter what…”

He kissed trails at your nape, pushing you closer to him, his suit reek of the Ionian sea.

“Always be honest with me… my love. You know… maybe… we should get a cat… they’re low maintenance, we don’t have to walk them and they don’t bark… maybe a summer house in Monaco near the beach.”

You turned to face him, cleaning your hands before touching his face.

You kiss shy and exploratory, seeing how calm the beast was around you.

He kissed you, holding you so tight he had to remind himself not to break you, restraining himself, wanting you so close to wash Palermo off his skin.

"Two cats."

John almost had it all… A family he was too afraid to talk to, the grandparents who could do so much better than that old person’s home, and he had Ryan now, he had you and possibly another child.

Thoughts of your breakdown, of your fantasy that he had almost ruined– John would give you that.

The house, the children, the animals and the tree.

He kissed you, grinding on your body pressing you roughly against the edge of the counter, intertwining his hands against you, quickly unwrapping your apron, exploring the flesh beneath the layers.

You giggled, as his touch tickled your goosebumps, his fingers warm against your cold skin

It was the only music he wanted.

Your laugh filling all these sorrowful spaces, he could see it so vividly, he could live in these fake future memories, you in this kitchen baby talking to the cats… he could brave the litter boxes, if that meant you would be there.

Ryan shouted from across the living room asking where his smartwatch was, you both stopped holding each other, planting playful kisses on each other in your forced departures.

He threw you that charming smile that melted your heart, as he ripped his soiled jacket off and headed down to help Ryan, throwing his boots without care.

Your fingers traced your lips, tasting him still.

John was a sweet boy. A hotheaded, capricious creature, his impetuous nature was part of his charm.

John… you loved him… loved him too much… loved that damaged lil’boy, he was earnest in his desire to bring that fantasy to life, he loved you, he thought of you half way through it all.

He thought of you as he undressed and touched her velvety walls, he thought of you as he stopped himself and flew to the other side of the world, he thought of his brother and you as he drank for the first and last time in his life.

In his lips were the leftovers of her spit, washed away by wine.

“It has to go… all of it… has to go… for us.”

I love you… but I had to make sure that in order for the both of us to be happy… I had to discipline you, in an absence of parents, in the absence of any responsible figure, I would.

The ‘Greywal & Co.’ sign staring down on me.

#homelander #personal #the boys #Homelander X reader #Homelander X you #Homelander fanfic #proof reading is not a thing #I'm ESL sorry for my english #1 more to go!!!#hope y'all like this #my fic tag #can we be lonely together?

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