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plasticfangtastic · 1 year ago

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Can We be Lonely Together? Ch. 12 2/3

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a G/N reader but male leaning for crack purposes.

A/N: Part 3 soon, long chapter ahead, part 1 is currently a pin post on my blog as of 30/7/2023. prev. chapters in the #My Fic tag and #can we be lonely together tag on my blog. Thanks to all the ones who have read this.

R18+ S.A and rape mention, child abuse and child death mention, murder. long chapter ahead

Chapter 12 cont.

Entering wasn’t difficult– no more difficult than co-ordinating with The Deep in order to steal a minor dosis of V and placing it in your car the day prior without the boss finding out, clutching at your bag, and the SD card in your pocket you began to re-play a collection of tragedies.

You needed to sell this and as controversial ‘The Method’ acting technique was, it worked in a pinch– these weren’t just enemies of Vought, or Homelander but of all Supe kind. Even on a microdose of V you could suffiencently heighten your powers. Vought had plenty on this group of FBSA contractors, their rap sheet miles long: terrorism, murder, assault, kidnapping, speeding, drug and gun peddling and now social media influencing.

Your escape plan virtually nonexistent, this was a do-or-die situation counting on Starlight having some humanity left… after all she was a Supe too– and that one man might just be pretending to be making exceptions to his genocidal goal.

If this didn’t work out then Homelander would never learn, you repeated over and over drilling it into your skull as you got closer to your goal.

It was for his own good, you repeated.

Welcome by the assault of a bloodtrail of thoughts you shook, gagging at the vividness of it all. These people were brutal, you had resided in carveries, dozens of bodies had gone past you yet their attitude was too much when compared to Dolores and Kent. One so odious and angry you began to reconsider your plan, yet you stepped foot out of the elevator as the ornate doors opened before you.

You had a catalog of tragedies to draw out tears, playing death on command feeling those final memories, the pains of love with nowhere to blossom, screams atop of lungs, and torment and pain of your own and others, you stood in that hallway until your eyes welled up, until your reflection must’ve looked haunting, each step forward meant a death without witnessing your sun once more.

‘Greywal & Co.’ Your hand shaky as it challenged itself to knock– how hard should you hit it? how desperate should you look? did your clothes look composed yet disheveled? How clammy was your skin? Thankfully you’re still sweaty and achy from sex.

Your knuckles hit the door lightly, shrinking, making yourself small, leaving out all of your pesky bravado.

You waited knowing you were noticed but each member grew increasingly silent, looking at each other– who could’ve possibly known their location? Sinking your teeth into your madness, you knocked again.

One already had a gun in his hand as he approached, a tiny jumpy thing, his mind clear but quick, a myriad of narcotics still fresh in his system from last night bender, he opened the door, you made eye contact, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and his tight bright coloured shirt, he offered a jumpy glare-- this one was a functioning addict.

He opened his mouth speaking with a thick french accent.

“We didn’t order anything.”

“Is… Is…” Your voice so small and breathy each letter caught in your tongue, the man leaned forward to catch your stuttering–… Is William Butcher here?”

His index creeping closer to the trigger.

“I must speak with him!!” Oh that cracking so good you earned your cookie– please…” you pleaded.

As the scene grew, Plan B entered the play– Starlight stood from her desk, narrowing her eyes, it took so much of you not to grin. She moved quickly, recognizing a nobody like yourself; Which made sense considering how the last time you both had made eye contact was back before restaffing efforts in the analytics department.

“You’re from Vought… yeah… I remember you, you were with Analytics!”

“Starlight!?” you took a step back, clutching at the straps of your backpack– thank god… I… I… Please help me.”

Your knees wobbly from before, wobbling at the perfect moment, thankful for the aching on your back and hips.

“I’ll giv’ you one minute of my time, luv– before I ask you to get the fuck outta of ‘ere.” the English man put his boots down from his desk, signaling to the two to let you walk in.

You could see why Homelander found him tantalizing, he was too much of a bad boy, practically screaming that he would ruin you with that somber look in his eyes, but deep down you could tell he was a softy if you dug and hated yourself enough– you could’ve tried that without breaking too many nails.

Marching towards your butcher, you took a SD card out of your jacket cradling it in your palm, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“Nobody at Vought would help me…” You swallowed– I… I don’t want to die… if… if they don’t kill me… he will” Your eyes reddened, lying like this pained you– I-I-I can-can’t do this anymore." you stuttered-- I learned you guys dealt with supes! The cops can’t help me and I'm a nobody so the press would never believe me… the FBSA won’t do nuthin’ about him either.”

He stared at the SD card in your hand yet still uninterested.

“... please… I beg you… please help me” You cried lightly, your whole body shuddering knowing what was about to escape your mouth would hurt him– please…”

“Who's the cunt? What could you possibly ‘ave here that would make me wan’ to ‘elp you? Not even a sob story?”

“Homelander. He… He did things to me…” you cried– I needed to find a way to get away from him… I thought if I found something dirty on Vought or him, they would put me on witness protection or something!! But they will… they will fucking kill me for this! God I wanted to get away from him, not this!!”

His whole body stiffen, your tears far too genuine, their eyes too uncomfortable to look at you for a millisecond longer, exchanging worried glances urging a brave soul to approach you.

Starlight's hand took you by surprise, flinching and slapping it off of you, she clutched her hand staring at you looking like a caged animal.

“So-sorry… I– I– I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is that true?” the Englishman asked with a low voice, and forced sarcasm– quite the story you got I almost bought it.”

A quiet rage invaded you, furiously unbuttoning your dress shirt, dropping layers in excess, flashing him, his mouth dropped at the sight of a hundred strokes– this was more than he had hoped for, leaving him nothing more to want.

“I’m not lying!!” You growled– does this look fake to you, asshole!?”

Your torso imitated a car crash victim, turning in shame just enough for him to catch a glimpse at the sore bite marks around your shoulders and neck.

“I’m losing it…” you cackled with your sobs– am so fucking dead.”

“Jesus Christ Butcher!” Starlight shouted picking your clothes to cover you– hey! hey come sit down.”

The bastard had actually thought you weren’t his type.

Turning his love letters into weapons, brought you into a screaming fit of tears, it hurt you, he would not forgive you… he shouldn’t… but… he did it first.

In his desolation he would go back to you, nobody would love him like you, he would understand he could only belong freely in your arms.

Following her to the gross little couch, while making little notes on the names of their family members, passwords, embarrassing secrets– all the juicy things you needed to start Plan R.

A handsome man, the family oriented one offered you tea. Both him and Starlight’s voice were nothing but a buzz, your sight glued on Butcher.

“How did you found out ‘bout me…?”

“You've been after him and Vought for a while…” the crack on your voice harsh– you killed Stillwell… Translucent… Mesmer… the Payback bitches… but I read that they kidnapped your wife– so I put two and two together and assumed you had a vendetta.”

“What y’know ‘bout my wife?”

“I read she was kept in a facility to help rear Homelander’s son– something about providing a stable environment that supported his emotional needs. From the look in your face I gather I’m not the only one.”

You cleaned your tears.

“So that’s what you found? You think that’s gonna do shite againts them? As if they won’t spin it as my Becca being a heartless harlot who ran away with his kid!”

You were too angry for your own good, maybe just as angry as him.

“ I’m not stupid… I stumbled upon some files called ‘Project Patriot’ and ‘First True American Program’ leading me down a rabbit hole– back in the 70’s and 80’s Vought conducted research using high spec Supe sperm and eggs on… unwilling participants” You cleared your nose, your voice sounding detached– they took runaways and girls from ‘Sage Grove’ to help make what would become ‘The Homelander’… they- they were other kids… he was the only survivor. His mother… she was found a few weeks ago… she was a missing girl called Frida Gillman…”

You looked up, clearing your nose loudly. The Englishman gave a commanding look to his group, the tall black guy did a quick google search on his phone, the first result was a youtube video talking about old unsolved mysteries finally solved, it seemed for many years Frida had had a following in the true crime community.

Showcasing an old grainy picture of Frida, both men could immediately see the family resemblance.

“How confident are you that you don’t got the wrong girl?”

“He killed her in front of me. He… he found her… I have the autopsies pictures too… it…”

“He laser her brains off?” He scoffed, for all the bullshit talk he had in front of him with Soldier Boy… that had been rich to hear.

“She looked the same. She didn’t age a day… I think Vought briefly considered using her to make anti-aging face cream… he didn’t like that.”

The lab had been repainted after you whispered it to Homelander.

Butcher took a seat across from you, already finding twelve different ways to kill you before his men could stop him, disliking the tone of your voice far too much.

“Kept goin’’”

“The American program…” You took a short sip of your tea, never lifting your face for too long– they collected his kids, he told me once… he thought he… he couldn’t make babies… Vought lied to him. Something about his DNA, basically fused with Compound V! So his offspring would always be born natural Supes– in theory… so they took the kids and put them in Big Brother’s house… forced the moms to agree to the experiments once the kids showed powers– if not dispose of them and continue without them.”

He could smell the pretense in your delivery, he was sharp, you liked the challenge strangely enough, it made your heartbeat jump with excitment.

“His son… Ryan… he seems like a good kid. As much as I hate him… as much as I wanna see Homelander dead… I cannot be the reason an innocent child goes through what they did to him and his kids.” You whimpered– The things… you can’t even imagine the things they did to him and those kids!! They were babies!! Like how can anybody do that to a child!!? You wouldn’t even do that to an animal!! I saw a fucking toddler be hit with a sledgehammer!! Shot at! Poisoned! Drowned!! I saw his kids being hooked to generators!! Have you ever seen a kid's eyes bursting!!!??” You stood up, your skin turning green. This couldn’t be faked– have you ever seen what happens to a body after it experiences a sudden atmospheric pressure change? not talking scuba divers… talking submarine chambers.”

You plop down, sinking in the leather seat, holding your clothes in place, watching their disgust and horror. You offered the SD card, the man struggled to take it off your hand, thinking of how dead he would be as if wasn’t already on a timer.

“– Vought has too many ears… after the V scandal… and I can barely get away from him…”

You could practically hear the victory bells, with clumsy fingers you took your phone out, the burner one that only served Roman. Too many selfies of you and Homelander, too many short texts between you two on your current phone.

“Wait you walking ‘roun with that shite on your phone!?”

“Well if he kills me, maybe the cops would find this in my phone… I… I was sort of counting on Homelander just not caring to check.”

You played a single video, a little blonde kid no more than eleven sitting in front of a row of shot glasses, a younger Jonah Vogelbaum sat beside him holding a bag of Peach gummies, for every shot the kid took he earned a gummy and a pat in his head, it wasn’t until the third shot glass when the group that had huddle around understood what was taking place– as the boy spat furiously, droplets felt across the metal sizzling whatever they touched, the kid crying with a painfully hoarse voice that it burnt too much. Vogelbaum stood up offering a single candy then forced him back into the chair, telling him that he shouldn’t cry, that he must do this for him if he wanted to earn this week’s reward.

The kid cried slowly, calming down as he took the next cup, snot covered bright red lips and cheeks as he tried looking strong for Voguelbaum.

“It goes on for five minutes.”

“Is that Homelander?” The lanky white boy spoke nervously.

“Yeah… that’s not even the worst… even if you kill me for the files only I got the password and good luck cracking it. I’ll give you the files if you can get me protection…”

“You think you can run away from him?” Asked the englishman– "can't even get rid of him now– those bruises look fresh.”

So here you could tell more awful lies, little tears soiled your cheeks, he just simply did not like you, not liking that you now held their price hostage, but it didn't need to turn bloody.

“I liked him… but one day he got loud, he scared me… and since… no matter what I did he would just get more angry. Before I knew it… he did this to me, and if I cried he would get worse… I… I want him to stop but am just a mudperson.” Starlight tilted towards you at the mention of that word– Nobody can kill him… or lock him, there is no prison built for him… but if Vought dies, if there’s no more Vought then there’s no more Homelander. He seems like the kind of guy who would kill himself if he found out about what they did to the kids… Even if I don’t make it… I could be okay with that if that meant Ryan would be safe– Let me at least go to hell with one less sin.”

He briefly considered torturing you to get you to reveal it was an act, but watching you, watching this divine offering, knowing this would never happen again he had to agree, Homelander would kill you, watching the look of anger and defeat brewing reflecting of your face, his walls began to crumble. He hated Homelander, watching that clip didn’t change anything but Ryan remained… The thought of his Becca forced to agree, to comply as they forced Ryan to drink acid– Butcher imagined the same scene, his wife holding the gummies in place of Jonah encouraging the small kid to take another sip. His stomach churned.

“I can make some calls to the FBSA…” he muttered, his mind in another timeline.

“The one run by the head popping presidential candidate?”

“How do you—?” asked Starlight.

“He talks… I think he thinks I'm his therapist– he says a lot of things… as if nobody ever did so much as pretend to listen. He was nice…” A saddened smile unnerved Starlight– a guy like that doesn’t look at somebody like me– it wasn’t hard to like him. It was hard to learn he was a monster… he says a lot of things. Too many. ‘bout the company, ‘bout himself, ‘bout the people who serve him.” You looked up– you. That’s how I learned your name… you’re the big bad wolf trying to blow his house of straws.”

He chuckled.

“So he kept comin’ back because yer a good listener? Give me a day and I can reach some contacts in the CIA that might be able to get you out the country– can you survive until then?”

“Don't have much of a choice.” You wrapped yourself in your clothes properly this time, your eyes sore from all the tears– the kid… the kid will be alright, no?”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you…” Starlight spoke, her hand sticky on your shoulder– you can trust us.”

“Certainly hope so. I can’t wait to get the matching set” You hissed scratching at the bite mark on your left shoulder– thank you…”

“Have to ask… what’s your name?” William asked– for the paperwork of course.”

He still didn’t trust you, good things don’t come this easily, these were jaded people but your carrot was too big and tempting, he had no qualms killing you, he had no issue with Homelander knowing this address, for he seemed far more interested in playing house and running Vought to the ground than to pay him a visit.

You gave them your current cover… only Homelander knew your real name.

You had liked that name, ideally it would be replaced by his last name, you watched him grin and offer you a tissue, the french man telling you where the bathroom was so you could wash your face. They wasted no time aiming for a background check speedrun world record, your name led them to various social media accounts, your usage was sporadic but consistent on topics, even a personal update about starting work at Vought, soon after that you posted less and less.

They could possibly find everything about you, all the fake shit you carefully build, and if they had weeks they could possibly find the new one you��ve crafted to get away from Roman earlier on. With their CIA connection as limited as they were, it wouldn’t be impossible to uncover your many past lives in time, at least your original self, that have once been sealed in the Vought records of your Pusher days were permanently deleted.

As your face dried your phone chimed, a short message: ‘Can’t you come back early? Babe, I want both you and Ryan to meet the surprise. Oh and should I get some from that cake shop in Sydney? the one you like??’

You looked around knowing nobody had come close.

‘Get the lemon pistachio. I can be there at 4. will try to finish this quickly tho. Luv u.’

Starlight was quizzed on who you were, she mentioned noticing Homelander descending to the lower floors, but she was more busy about everything, after all you had arrive on her last weeks of work soon after Edgar stepped down, you didn’t stand out but she saw you– after all there were only like five people down there.

You re-entered as M.M. lowered his computer screen, heading towards his desk you handed him the SD card.

Clutching at your bag straps, looking wounded and exhausted.

“How do we know we can trust you? Maybe I believe you or maybe I don’t, luv.”

He was going to give you a final jab.

“Margaret and Elena recently purchased a homestead… 8 acres of land down in Colorado and are rearing llamas for fur… I could’ve given Homelander her address, phone number, new social security number, the license plate to her blue 1999 Chevy Silverado, even down to the last thing she ate at Taco Bell last saturday at 4:33 pm based on her Bank of America account transaction. I also know she texted her three days ago.” You pointed at Starlight– If I was your enemy I would’ve gotten her killed. My supervisor deleted the footage of a van picking her body but she missed one from a Ring doorbell camera one store away”

You showed him the clip, different angle, dark but obviously them.

“Trust me or not, don't care… just help me get away from him, if I had contacts with the CIA I would’ve tried running away on my own, but the worse part about working for Vought is that the people in my department are fucking good at their job. Call Maeve if you like to confirm she’s alive, if you want.”

The room tensed.

You took a couple steps back, your phone ringing and ringing, you had said no and even if your message was reasonable, it didn’t matter.

The more it went on the more you could sense this ending very poorly.

“That’s him, Isn’t it?” Hughie asked.

“... the password is ‘limerence’ no caps… I… I have to go.”

The phone kept going and going you stood there for a whole minute while it rang incessantly, taking a deep breath, you began walking away.

Your eyes, two whole red saucers, the french man followed you to the door, watching your eyes welling up, your arms trembling as you took the phone to your ear.

“You answer when I fucking call you!” John shouted into the phone, making you jump.

Loud enough they could hear his unmistakable voice echoing down the halls.

You ran for the stairs, knowing there was a camera set up, looking down as you heaved in your sprint. M.M. looked at the security feed watching your jacket fade as you run and seemed to apologize.

Hughie took an old computer from one the many filing cabinets, if anything was to be destroyed by a virus it wasn’t going to be one of theirs, there was no denying those bruises in your body, Annie had winced, her sight fixated on each patch of skin and its unsavory coating– some fresh some ancient, some barely there until the light hit it just right, all your wounds in spots that your clothes could cover, it made her stomach churn thinking of what he had done to get you like that and even as you runned down the stairs you could hear them so clearly.

The SD card opened up displaying three folders within, Hughie and company tried typing the password on all of them, getting lucky on the last one.

Inside hundreds of files, documents, images and videos on ‘Project Patriot’.

Even as the city grew sleepier, they were fixated on the screen, even without the other folders, even without anything else– Vought could be done for.

It left a bitter aftertaste… he lost sleep watching recordings and recordings of nameless kids, fading from history, kids that had never formally existed outside of God’s gaze.

Just overwhelming misery.

Inside that now emptied office, he took a cigarette out to the sounds of a little boy taking an oral test, a light stutter had to be eliminated out his mouth, made to read out loud passages from some American history book, made to repeat everything if the stutter presented itself watching the child grow more stressed and embarrassed.

He was living on borrowed time, he considered for longer than he could afford to do.

“scorched earth” the smoke drew swirls in the air– what should I do Becca?”

Homelander's nose and ears ached, the thought of taking another step inside this shelter was genuinely agonizing, the excitement, the fear and fecal rainbow of the four-legged beasts all around, smacked his senses.

This was quicker than getting one from a breeder, it would look good for his new fanbase-- he was told, the lady's jittery motion gave him a headache– shut up!! He wanted to scream as she spoke non-stop leading him to the cattery, rows of stainless steel boxes… cages… rows and rows of cages.

Not even enough space to walk away from the litter box, his tongue dried thinking of his own cage, the latrine always visible.

“This donation truly means a lot to us, Homelander, sir.” she said excitedly.

A hundred-thousand dollars was chump change to him– a lot for this independent shelter, watching these tiny cages he might double it on the promise they would make them bigger.

Rows of kittens and cats mewl and screamed, too many noises, too many smells, it was dizzying, he had to hold unto Ashley’s shoulder as his ears were assaulted by screams and purrs, hisses and yowlings, barking, and scratching, this place was a violent, his chest tightening as his ears ached– his eyes pressed tightly. John’s mind was so quiet, his brother still ignoring him squeezing his knuckles until they cracked. Homelander gave the room a quick glance, picking a random cage that housed two older cats.

These creatures screamed the loudest, demanding to be seen.

“Oh those two they were surrendered to us last year… not a lot of people want to take older cats, much less bonded pairs.”

He read the tag, a pair of seven and ten year old cats– a brother and sister. The brother a fat slob of a beast, its long fur made it look like a scraggly cream coloured cloud, its whiskers just as long and curly at the tips, its nose too long and its eyes big and green while his sister a skinnier but not by much… still more fur than it should have, just a boring brown mackerel.

“We’ve been trying to get them to lose weight but they aren’t very active during playtime, still lots of improvement from last year.”

This was just to make you happy, they would only last a couple more years and by the time they died you wouldn’t want more. Ryan would get the pet experience but as most children he assumed he would grow disinterested in a couple months.

“Do they get along with dogs? And kids?”

“Kids, yes!! Dogs not big ones” she blurted, already opening the cage– want to hold them?”

Forcibly smiling, he took the fat girl, hefty, she talked displeased, just blubber and fur, the lady made a motion encouraging Homelander to press her against his chest, chirping and chattering, the eye contact was intense, as he wanted this weird tuna smell away from his face and the cat was clearly puzzled by his presence. Its tongue was so strange, he flinched lightly as the animal licked his nose, sniffling at his face.

From the cat's perspective the man had no aroma, nothing but a fawn wearing human clothes.

“Perfect, I'll take them!” he handed the creature back– my boy cannot wait.”

“well… sir… we usually have an interview pro–

“I said I’ll take them– Ashley give the lady her check!”

An assistant handed him a cartoonishly large check, this was after all going to be a PR opportunity at least. Ashley, still processing what was happening, all she knew was that after a light lunch he came and ordered her to get this organized.

He waited outside the cattery texting you and getting nothing, he was inside this place for you and now you didn’t answer inmediately.

He shouted.

“Sorry!! Trying to organize some ingredients for Dolores she needed my help!!”

“What's with your voice?”

His anger melted instantly.

“I’m running down the stairs!!”

“Are you okay…?”

“Yes! I just don’t think I can talk with you while they’re around– I’ll call you when I can. I love you.”

Hanging only made it worse.

Three floors under them, you are still close enough to listen to the French man, his knowledge of chemistry inspirational.

Homelander entered the room again to get a photo taken with the cats, each animal more displeased than he was.

By the time he made it back to the tower, he searched for your heartbeat.

Still not there, but Ryan was busy with after school activities, and going to the library with his buddies Jaythaniel, Haoran and Oaklynn to do their homework.

He watched the men set up the cats' stuff, Ms. Cha making sure they didn’t leave a mess, cursing in Korean how the cats were going to make her work more than she ever had yet still throwing them an adoring look.

He sat on his couch after letting the cats out, not paying much attention to what they were doing.

“Ms. Cha, could you keep an eye out for the cats? I still need to run some errands. If Y/N gets home don't let them in until I get here.”

Never in her twenty years of working for this man, had he ever called her anything. Assumed the hero didn’t even know her name... much less she existed.

Running across the city looking at your phone for the time, you jumped on the subway until you made it to Dolores's restaurant, two staff led you quietly to the back as the lunch service was still happening.

A young woman shouted commands in code, the staff moving like extensions of their voice, Dolores examining each plate before a waiter took it, she had no need to taste for her nose did all the work, she pulled her second in command and placed them in charge walking away for you to follow into a cramp fridge.

“Supe.”

“Soup?”

“I can get you Firecracker for the next epulary.” you bluter excitedly.

“Get out of here.”

“Her editor and script writer lives in Queens… She goes every Thursday to her house for wine and discusses the next episode of their podcast. Vought might be running the show now but she still needs her best friend’s input.”

She looked at the labels around.

“How are you going to do it?” She moved the trays around dictating freshness thus urgency– she got bulletproof skin.”

“Tetrodotoxin… a couple drops in her wine”

“I can get you some puffer fish by tomorrow. I know that on a normal human the meat will be useless but… a Supe like her… am curious.”

“Her friend is a supe too, they met at Godolkin their power is stupid– X-Ray vision but overall normal.”

“Don’t get me too excited, babygirl.”

“I’ll deliver it in two days then, just need to get away from John for a minute and you do your part, right?”

“I’ll have the clean up crew just text me when you’re on your way. And ‘John’? Oh… not just Homelander this time.”

“I think he was gonna buy a cat for me.”

“Jesus christ what did you do to his dick? Any tips?”

“Just gotta suck it like you’re a repressed middle aged man with two kids and a wife at a dingy truck stop gloryhole.”

“Damn.”

“That or just tell him he is a good boy.”

She opened the door with a wide smile, jumping at the thought of tasting Supe meat again, it had been a long time since you guys met and you’ve help her..

“Oh I gotta make dinner… Can I?”

She lowered a tray of porterhouse angus for you.

“I take this as my advancement.”

“You should take our mash potato and brown buttered carrots– I’ll have them pack you some”

“Oh I got this Cassolette recipe I just stole from a killer”

“How good?”

“Remember Lil’ Nina from the Russian’s?”

“Oh the one she tried having me make? and who fucked us over with the Czech back in the day.”

“That one… small world indeed.”

“Fuck the angus take the dry-age wagyu.”

Time slips away but it's still four o’clock but shy of 5, by the time you rushed past the security check he was already waiting for you, dozens of eyes looking at you.

You lifted the grocery bag.

“You’re late.”

Still a quarter to five. He looks lost and upset, trying to keep composed in public.

“My apologies sir… I had to take the subway.”

“Your car doesn't work?”

There’s many people around you to speak comfortably.

“Sorry, I thought it would be quicker if I didn’t drive, sir.”

You looked away, clutching at your belongings, his glare was not worth the Uber ride you paid to get here.

“I’m going to go get Ryan from… whatever the fuck their names are… you don’t go inside until am back.”

“Jaythaniel, Haoran and Ooklynn.”

“What?”

“Those are his friends' names. You like Ooklynn, she is a well behaved one.”

“Those can’t be real names…” he softened his posture, taking a fancy paper bag from behind him– we’ll talk later.”

Seeing him take the front door out was a terrifying look, you stood there for a couple minutes trying to understand what just had happened, his mind had been so quiet.

The ride up was uncomfortable, the walk home just as bad.

“What did you do to him?” Ms Cha asked, already waiting for you outside– "I had it easy for years and now you make him give me more work!”

“I clean up after myself.” you defended.

“He has lost his goddamn mind.” she blocked the door– not allowed until bossman comes back.”

“How pissed was he?”

“Quiet. Just looks ready to kill somebody for the hell of it.”

“We both know that doesn’t narrow it down.”

“Not murder for funsies but premeditated.”

You both looked defeated just standing in awkward silence.

“Since when does he take the elevator?” Ms. Cha nudge at you, waking you up.

“It was nice knowing you.”

Ryan shot you the same look Ms. Cha gave you before, John's brows just buried enough yet not touching, his lips a thin line and he was looking straight at you without much blinking, the thrree of you huddling together as the door opened.

“Go in! come on.”

Ms. Cha bolted out at the opposite direction, she was not going to clean that up. Ryan wondered what could you’ve possibly had done, for him to be so absentminded when he picked him up, there was no urgency this time… heck he would had agreed to stay there for an extra 10 minutes without complaint.

It didn’t hit you at first until you noticed the cat tree by the window towering over the living room, and a child squealing as he spotted the two cats hiding under the coffee table.

“Toaster and Blender.” he gestured towards the worried cats– now you and I let's go to the kitchen for a chat.”

“You… You… oh my god…”

Fuck him, you ignored him live this time– you jumped after the cats, Ryan aready snatching the fat tabby the moment it lifted its neck out the table, taking the other and squeeling like a lil' girl.

“I love it… oh my god you are so cute!! Can we keep it!?”

“Dad are we keeping them!!?

A thousand yard stare cemented in his eyes, underestimating the power of cats had in people, even Ashley had cooed at the critters.

“Yes. But you two have to clean the litter boxes.”

"I love you, Dad!!"

That conversation did not take place until after dinner, something about childhood excitement being shared by you two was far too overwhelming and hectic for the already stressed hero, you washed dishes as Homelander entered the kitchen.

“What was that today?”

The cats eat by the entrance, and it seems that wet food alleviated all their anxieties, specially at 4 dollars a can.

“A lot of mob front restaurants use high quality ingredients– I was organizing something for Dolores' private Epulary.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look I was in a room full of mobsters who could’ve killed me before you broke their door.”

“You could’ve called me later.”

“John. I’m Sorry but I was busy–

“I did that for you!” He pointed at the cats– what else do you want!? You’re still ignoring me! Acting distant– like what the fuck!” He shouted sounded more wounded than angry, exasperated in his panting.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was busy! I told you I was going to be busy!” You dried your hands, bothered that he was in his suit– I was hunting!! God fucking dammit John I been tagging these two whores for days!!”

You threw the towel.

“Hunting? Wait you– you’re still killing people?”

“Not since you and I. God I thought the drugs made me happy but… ” You slumped onto the kitchen floor, just letting your legs give up– I need this. I need it… this is a different sort of adrenaline than sex or drugs and I like it. Oh god I fucking love it– I didn’t think I actually did! and you kept coming home covered in blood like you’re rubbing it in my face that I couldn’t!”

He stood frozen, his chin tucked, looking down at the mewling cat as if it asked him if they both heard the same thing.

“I love this. I love you.” You whined– I love domesticity but god I need to feel high!!– I don’t mind it, I am stressed and I haven’t hung out with my bestie in a while, either. Look, I'm just gonna kill these whores, have a girls night and then I’m all yours… is not fair you get to have all the fun.”

“Oh. Pumpkin you could have said something– communication is key to a successful relationship!” There he was signing with relief blowing raspberries trying not to chuckle– "If you needed it, you could have asked me I could’ve brought you somebody!”

“No!” He looked offended suddenly– Look. Is the hunt that makes the kill fun, the trailing, the selecting, the ever fluctuating levels of difficulty… you do this in perpetual ‘easy mode’-- I don’t.” You smacked your head back– I got these girls, they got lots of friends, close family who will notice the moment they are missing, full-time work with lots of close colleagues and dependants… when girls like that go missing and nobody ever finds out what happens– that’s my bliss.”

A few red flags waved in his head but he ignored them because at least you were being honest with yourself and him, your speech back during your first fight must’ve been denial he thought.

“As long as you see their beady little eyes cloud–

“Boring!” you sang.

“Thought you hated it.” he picked the cream feline– Poor Toaster had to hear us scream.”

He takes his place beside you, cat still in arms.

“Me too. You remember the cat’s name before your own kids bestfriends?”

He had no reply to that.

“Why kill people for dinner?”

So he didn't.

“Rich fucks pay a lot of money to see pretty girls murdered while they eat spaghetti… they bid to select the method.”

“Can I help? I mean if you needed to kill people you could’ve asked me instead of being a bitc– being so mean to me.” He caught himself but you didn’t mind his slip.

“Maybe next time…?” you bit your lips– I was worried that if I was embracing this side of me… you… would be grossed out, and you wouldn't like me anymore.”

“Babe. Pumpkin.” He cooed, He kissed your temples, nudging closer as he softly petted the cat’s side– I said I would take all your bad… I bet you would look so beautiful covered in blood.”

“You certainly do.”

You took your phone showing him a picture of Firecracker’s friend.

“She has lots of followers on Instagram… and her feet pics sell really well– just look at that ass!”

“Wow! You think is better than mine?” he pouted– I bet she would even look pretty when you kill her.”

“Oh fuck no, Your ass could cause an earthquake with that bounce.” you kissed his chin laughing into him– I’ll take some pictures for you, if ya like…?”

You purred, he pictured your tasteful nudes arriving in the middle of a meeting, seeing your sensuous shape covered in this cheap whore waiting for him to clean up.

Oh there was a prideful glimmer in his eyes, his hand stroking the fur– addictively soft, there was a lot of fur throws around the house, perhaps in the recess of his mind a deprivation of textures had brought a subconscious fascination with fur, he mindlessly stroke the feline and you wondered if somehow your powers had influence his decision, this cat looked somewhat like his mother’s– the cat began to purr, and you both sat there looking at the overweight animal as it nestled itself comfortably in defeat.

Your cheek resting on his arm with an eagle picking at your scalp.

“Ooklynn is not a real name.”

“Well her parents are white… her middle name is Meribeth if you prefer.”

“Becca did right by calling him Ryan. Ryan is nice, simple, easy, perfect.”

to be cont.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfic #homelander x you #my fic tag #can we be lonely together #personal #the boys fanfic #Last 20 pages will be posted soon #can't believe i finished this #the boys amazon

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