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sehtoast · 5 months ago

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Tender Threads CH4 (Homelander x OC)

chapter four: the new you

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: time to look the part, little spider. out with the old, in with the new.

With every job comes the good and the bad. Up until now, it had been mostly… fine? Not awful by any stretch, but Benjamin hasn’t had much to complain about. Again, until now.

He’s been in this office for hours. Fucking hours. One would think Stillwell would’ve at least warned him that the two men prattling off marketing and merchandising concepts never took a breath between their eight trillion sentences, but no.

Not even a smidge.

Good ol’ Seth and Evan…

Benjamin finally snaps back to attention when the topic shifts for the umpteenth time, though not by the grace of a whiteboard eraser wiping away sloppy diagrams and stick figures. This time the two jump halfway across the room to a sheeted mannequin that has been begging to be unveiled the entire time.

“And so, obviously, we were thinking that it was time for a fresh image! Something flashy, something… you.” Seth– or was it Evan– says with a child-like giddiness.

“The pros in the design department worked overtime for this one. You’ll love it!” Evan– or… Seth, perhaps, chips in, just as eager as his hive-mind counterpart.

“What’s wrong with my suit now?” Ben asks, voice scratchy from how long he’s sat in silence. And why the fuck do you guys alternate sentences like that… eesh.

But there was no reason not to anticipate this. In fact, the bug could practically smack himself upside the head for not even entertaining the idea. He was a product now… and he had to remember that. They’ll change everything about him to better fit their image. Well, everything he hadn’t been able to protect under his contract.

“Spider-Man,” rings that mother-knows-best voice the bug has come to know all too well. “There’s nothing wrong with your current,” she pauses for a moment, pursing her lips as if thinking of a way to call him shabby without being too backhanded. “Homemade suit.”

Yeah… still backhanded.

“We just think you’re deserving of something a little more… special. After all, you’re in The Seven now. You deserve to look the part. Have all the toys, and so on. Who doesn’t like an upgrade?”

“And just wait til you see what we’ve got for you!” Says one of the duo. The pair take their spot on either side of the mannequin and grab a handful of the cover.

Please don’t suck. Please, please don’t suck.

Ben’s mind runs to the worst ideas possible. What if they changed his colors? What if they pull some bullshit with the mask and it’ll only conceal his face partially? That’s in the contract– they fucking know better– what if–

The sheet is ripped away faster than he can process it.

This suit of his… It’s always been Benjamin’s second skin. His armor against the world. Silly as it was, his suit was a part of him. An identity, perhaps.

And now a new one stares back at him almost as if it yearns to be chosen. This new skin, this new him.

Ben rises slowly from the couch to circle it, inspecting every little detail. The subtle things. The not so subtle things…

The spider emblem had been enlarged, nearly as long as the whole torso. The legs cut off where red once met blue– now black– on the sides. An interesting color choice, and one probably meant to ensure his scheme wasn’t too similar to Homelander’s. Gray accent lines run through the blackened sections in intricate patterns, weaving a hexagonal texture.

Ben reaches out to touch it despite his own gloves shielding him from sensation.

The new suit’s webbing textures are raised slightly from the body, and the sections are larger too. It’s less… cluttered this way. Undeniably easier on the eyes. His hand slides up to the shoulders where the signature Vought V logo is stamped in a white, leather-like material. Sure to never fade and certainly never go unnoticed.

Down the arms, paper thin lines of dark red dance sporadically, damn near indistinguishable from the black of the suit. An oddity catches the bug’s attention.

The same V shape on the shoulders is at the wrists, right where his webs emerge, almost as if to function as funnels. Something to spare him the design flaw of the unsightly holes in his current suit.

Rounded, friendlier looking lenses stare into his very soul.

He can hear the sound of those two yammering on about… something, but he doesn’t process a word of it.

This is him now. It’s like an energy emanates from it, begging for a symbiotic relationship. Benjamin feeds the image and, in return, the image feeds him security.

Whether or not he’ll feel… whole like this remains to be seen, but… it could’ve been so much worse.

“Well,” Stillwell says abruptly. “It won’t put itself on. Bathroom’s right there.”

Ben steps back as Seth and Evan strip the suit away from the mannequin, all but force it into his hands, and shuffle him into the bathroom. Hell, they even shut the door behind him as a courtesy.

The process of stripping is still its old painful self. Indentations of seams on skin, elastic marks, and especially that flattened mask-hair Ben always dreads. And what a wreck he is in the mirror. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, uneven scruff on his jaw that he definitely needed to shave at least two days ago, anxiety-bitten lips…

Christ, man. Look at you…

But it’s not like he could blame himself. Between the daily antics of settling in at Vought and being the same ol’ hero at night– which had been strongly discouraged, by the way– Benjamin hasn’t had any time to take care of himself, nor sleep more than the odd half hour here or there.

Is that a fucking pimple?? Eughh…. Wash your as soon as you’re home. Hell, do it now.

He lets the tap warm up a bit before scrubbing frantically at his face, only half tempted to use whatever antibacterial gunk Stillwell kept in her private bathroom. At least the water wakes him up a little.

The new suit comes with its own challenges, but is somehow easier to put on. The material quality is leagues better and it allows for stretching much more willingly. In fact, it’s damn near completely comfortable… breathable, even.

The back zipper though… That one would be Benjamin’s enemy until the day he either died or hung up the spandex.

The mask takes him by surprise when he lifts it. It has an odd weight to it, not necessarily heavy but definitely not what a mask should weigh. He flips it inside out and the culprit is a solution to all of his woes.

Gone are the days of a face shell to make him look a little less ridiculous and keep dental work off his list of injury expenses, now replaced by– judging by pressing his thumbs– thin padding liners full of some variety of what he assumed to be oobleck. Solid when force was applied, soft when left to settle. They hit all the sweet spots, too. Jaw, cheekbones, temples…

One last look in the mirror, and he slips it on.

“What the fu–”

Ben stumbles backward a bit as load screens and transparent windows stack upon one another in his field of view. Welcome messages, tutorial pop ups– the whole nine yards. His eyes rake frantically through everything, trying to peer past the overload. He swats his arms as if to smack the windows away, but they go nowhere.

He shuts his eyes tight, sighing with deep frustration. One more fucking headache…

That seems to have disappeared the second he reopens them.

Huh…

And then he does a double take. Just as his brows were, his lenses were arched. The bug leans over the vanity and gets damn near nose to nose with himself, wiggling his eyebrows, widening and squinting his eyes, watching with fascination and disdain at his now emotive lenses.

He groans.

No more making bitchy faces behind the mask, huh?

Gone were the days where he could roll his eyes and hide his flippant reactions behind the mask. That’s probably exactly why Vought would spend god only knows how much money developing tech like this. Marketing likely decided he needed to be personable, not just another blank face like Noir.

When he finally gets the gumption to exit the bathroom, the two are all but biting at his ankles. “How is it?” They ask in their nearly creepy unison.

“It’s uh…” Ben starts, wondering exactly what the decorum rules were for conveying a complaint. “About halfway up my ass.” Not a lie. “Can we adjust that later or–”

“Absolutely not!” Chirps one of the two. “Polls show the ladies love a man in tights, and you’re sure to see an uptick in approval if you flaunt what you’ve got!”

Christ…

Ben decides not to dignify that with a response.

Stillwell lets loose a brief, pleased chuckle. “Well gentlemen, a job well done as always.” She praises, ushering them to the door. Ben arches a brow at their audible hoots and hollers of celebration as they make their way down the hall. “Now, Spider-Man, how are you finding things at Vought so far?”

If false sincerity had a smell, she’d be stinking up the room.

“I’m uh… I’m good.” Ben shuffles, tilting his head from side to side to convey the so-so-ness of his state. Not that it’s been bad, but it hasn’t necessarily been good. And how could it be, really? His whole life was uprooted by the American Jesus himself. A smooth transition was helpful, but the start was still awful.

“Just good?” Suddenly a concerned look not unlike a mother tending to her tearful child flickers over her features. “Has anyone been giving you trouble?”

“No, no– it’s just a lot, y’know?”

“I understand. You should know how glad we all are that you came around to the offer.”

Coerced, but sure…

“You were our top pick, after all.” She says with a tilt of the head and a soft smile.

If the vibe wasn’t so damn off-putting, she might actually be kind of sweet. Benjamin might just buy into that mother dearest tone if it wasn't for that unsettling, opportunistic corporate zombie look in her eyes.

“Now I know you’re already acquainted with Homelander, but it’s certainly about time you met the rest of the team. Follow me…”

#homelander x oc #homelander #homelander fanfiction #this one's just kinda filler. next chapter picks back up #promise <3 #madelyn stillwell #the boys #the boys fanfic #homelander x reader

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steam-powered-blinders · 5 months ago

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Steam Powered Blinders

Polly's reaction

It hadn't taken them long to get from Charlie's Yard to the house in Small Heath. As usual, Tommy didn't bother knocking and just walked in like he owned the place, which maybe he did in some capacity.

Arthur and John had followed Tommy inside and the Walter 'bots were a little more skeptical, but followed inside after them anyway. They could hear Tommy starting to speak to someone else in the kitchen but as they enter it and see an older woman, she immediately goes on the defence.

John had been closest to her, so she grabs his gun straight out his belt and points it at the mechanical people. Tommy is quick to start talking to her again, assuring her that they aren't a threat. The Spine, Rabbit and The Jon have their arms raised in surrender so she doesn't shoot them. Even if the bullet would not hurt them as it would a human, they still didn't want to have to fish one out of their chassis or fix said chassis when they don't even know if they'd be able to get suitable materials for the job.

Once she finally puts down the gun, resting it on the table near her, which was an okay compromise, they finally put their arms down. Tommy leaned against the kitchen counter while Arthur and John sat down. Polly glanced between the boys and the metal people before finally taking a seat as well, gun still very much in reach of her. With affirmative from Arthur that they were allowed to, the automatons sat down too.

"Right, so what's the reason for the three human-like machines in our kitchen?" Polly asks, sounding annoyed more than anything, almost like her nephews had brought home a dog instead of three sentient automatons.

"They got shipped to Birmingham instead of San-Diego," Tommy says matter-of-factly and this seems to annoy Polly only more. "That doesn't answer my question," she barks it like an order and Rabbit has the fleeting notion to leave the table and do something else.

"We thought they could stay here until we figure something better out," Arthur supplies and Polly is none too impressed with that notion. "Where are we going to put them? The rooms are full now that you boys are back and I don't think the extra bed will be strong enough to carry their weight." She objects, or maybe just points out the facts, it's hard to tell.

While the humans go back and forth about letting them stay here or not, the three automatons communicate with a language all their own. It's whistles and chirps, sounding like music notes and pieces of instruments to make the noises that allow them to communicate.

"Where do we go if they can't house us?" Rabbit chirps at Spine. On the other side of her brother, Jon leans into Spine's side and sighs a plume of steam. "We'll figure something out and I'm sure Tommy will help either way, I trust him," Spine whistles back, only vaguely noticing that Tommy perks ever so slightly at the use of his name in their music language. He forgot Tommy may have picked up a few select words from their time at the front lines.

They tune back into the conversation just as it seems to settle on a decision. "Fine, but I don't know how we'll feed three more mouths," Polly concludes.

"Oh, we don't need to eat, Miss. We just need some water for our boilers and the occasional oil change!" Spine states cheerily, giving a bit of information about them. Polly seems momentarily surprised that Spine speaks so clearly and deep, but nods to show she heard him.

"Then it's settled." She says with air of finality and the tension in the kitchen seems to dissipate slightly.

At that moment, another woman walks in from a doorway that they assume leads to some stairs, a pre-teen (?) boy just a few steps behind her. She pauses at the sight in the kitchen and the boy bumps into her, wondering what the matter is.

They are introduced as Ada and Finn, Tommy's sister and youngest brother. Ada is quick to adjust, offering them tea or even an alcoholic drink but they decline, only Rabbit asks for a glass of water and Polly spends a couple minutes eyeing how she manages to 'drink' it.

At least that night, Rabbit, Spine and Jon were all in one piece and sleeping sitting on the couch with their heads and shoulders leaning on each other. It was the best stasis they'd gotten since the war began.

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