#the deep x homelander

[the-fucking-cannibal]

*Dolphin noises* 🐬🐬🐬

[popstarbarbiee]

Of Lost and Found

<prev next>

The rain fell hard and fast, turning the city streets into rivers of gray and gold under the lamplight. The cold wind cut through the air, biting into anyone caught outside without shelter. But none of that mattered to The Deep as he ran, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his clothes soaked through, clinging to his skin. His feet pounded against the pavement, the pain in his chest intensifying with every step.

He needed to get away. Away from Vought, away from Homelander — away from the prison his life had become.

It had been building for weeks, the tension between him and Homelander escalating into something unbearable. The possessiveness, the control, the cruelty disguised as affection — it had been choking him, drowning him in a life he no longer recognized. And tonight, something had snapped. A cruel word, a threat too sharp to ignore, and suddenly The Deep found himself running. Just running, with no clear direction, no destination. Only a desperate need to escape.

But now, as he turned down a dark alley, the reality of his situation began to weigh on him. Where could he go? What life did he have outside of Vought? Outside of Homelander’s shadow?

And then, like a beacon in the storm, one name echoed in his mind: Logan.

---

Logan sat in the corner booth of a small, dingy bar on the outskirts of the city. It was the kind of place no one bothered to look for heroes — or washed-up killers like him. The lights were dim, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. It was quiet tonight, just a few patrons scattered around, nursing their drinks in silence.

Logan’s beer sat untouched in front of him. He wasn’t here for the alcohol. He was here to think, to escape his own thoughts — or at least try to. But as usual, his mind wouldn’t let him rest.

Ever since that day at Vought Tower, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about The Deep. Seeing him like that, trapped in Homelander’s grasp, had haunted Logan. He had tried to push it down, tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his problem. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. He had never been able to just walk away from someone in pain — especially not someone he had once cared for.

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. Maybe he should’ve done more. Maybe he should’ve fought harder. But he couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved, could he?

The sound of the door opening broke through his thoughts, and Logan looked up instinctively. His heart stopped.

It was The Deep.

Soaked to the bone, shivering, his hair plastered to his face, The Deep stood just inside the entrance, his wide eyes searching the room frantically until they locked on Logan.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words, with everything they hadn’t said in years.

Then The Deep took a shaky step forward, his breath hitching as if he were about to break. “Logan…”

Logan was on his feet before he even realized what he was doing. He crossed the bar in long, purposeful strides, his eyes never leaving The Deep’s face. When he reached him, Logan stopped just short, his hands hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if he should touch him.

But The Deep made the decision for him. He all but collapsed into Logan’s arms, his body trembling, his hands clutching desperately at Logan’s jacket as if he were afraid he might disappear. Logan wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, letting The Deep bury his face in his chest. He could feel the wetness of tears soaking into his shirt, could hear the quiet, broken sobs muffled against his skin.

Logan held him tighter, his hand coming up to gently stroke The Deep’s wet hair, his heart aching in his chest. “I gotcha,” Logan murmured, his voice low and rough but gentle. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

For a long while, they just stood there in the middle of the bar, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world around them. The patrons at the bar didn’t even glance their way, too wrapped up in their own lives to notice the quiet moment of vulnerability between the two men.

Eventually, Logan gently guided The Deep over to the booth, sitting him down and sliding in next to him. The Deep’s hands were still trembling, his breathing uneven as he wiped at his face, trying to compose himself.

“I… I didn’t know where else to go,” The Deep whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t stay there. Not with him. I just… I had to get out.”

Logan nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “You did the right thing, getting out,” he said quietly. “You don’t deserve to be stuck in that kind of hell.”

The Deep let out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering with guilt and doubt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For everything… for leaving you, for choosing… him.” He spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I was so lost, Logan. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just… I thought maybe being with Homelander would make me feel powerful, like I had control over something in my life. But it’s only made everything worse.”

Logan reached out, his rough hand resting gently on The Deep’s arm. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said quietly. “We both made mistakes. We both messed up. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better than this.”

The Deep’s eyes filled with tears again, and he let out a soft, broken laugh. “Better?” he asked, his voice laced with self-loathing. “Logan, I’ve done terrible things. I’ve hurt people. I’m not… I’m not worth saving.”

Logan’s grip tightened, his eyes fierce as he looked into The Deep’s watery gaze. “That’s bullshit,” he growled. “You’re more than what you’ve done. And yeah, maybe you’ve messed up, maybe you’ve hurt people. But that doesn’t mean you’re beyond redemption. You’re not Homelander, Deep. You’ve got a heart — and you still care. That’s more than I can say for half the so-called heroes in this world.”

The Deep’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at Logan, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He had spent so long believing he wasn’t worth anything more than what Vought had made him into — that he was nothing more than a tool, a pawn in their games. But hearing Logan say those words, seeing the belief in his eyes, it made something crack open inside him. It made him want to believe it too.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” The Deep admitted quietly, his voice small. “I don’t know where to start.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave The Deep’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said. “You just took the first step by getting out of there. That’s the hardest part. The rest… we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

The Deep swallowed hard, nodding as he wiped at his eyes again. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Logan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t get to decide that,” he said. “I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, The Deep let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The weight of the world that had been pressing down on his chest lifted just a little, enough for him to breathe again. He looked at Logan, really looked at him, and for the first time in months, he felt something close to hope.

“Thank you,” The Deep whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the bar around them.

Logan just nodded, his hand still resting on The Deep’s arm, offering him the kind of quiet, steady comfort that only Logan could provide.

For the first time in a long time, The Deep didn’t feel like he was drowning.

He was safe. He was with Logan.

And for now, that was enough.

[savaggeland]

Well, you know, if you want to read an mpreg something where Deep is intersex and Homelander starts fucking him until he gets pregnant, so he has to isolate himself during the whole process... here's my stupid fanfic:

[deepinkevin]

I think the deep would drop to his knees for just about anyone, especially for homelander

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[the-fucking-cannibal]

The way you drew The Deep is so big-brained, I wish he canonically looks more like an aquatic creature than just Pretty Dude with Gills. LIKE!!! THIS GUY IS THE LORD OF THE OCEAN HIS POWERS ARE ALL ABOUT WATER!! HE SHOULD HAVE FINS AND EYES THAT ADAPT TO DEEP WATERS I WISH WE HAVE MORE SUPES THAT JUST LOOK FREAKY!!

YES YES YES EXACTLY YA FEEL ME! 👏🏻

Bro I have SO MANY headcanons for Kevin, to me it's MUCH MORE than just a random dude with gills. BRO IS A DEEP SEA CREATURE MUTANT!!!

Here's some of my headcanons:

Apparently since Deep can reach fhe bottom of the ocean, comunicate with sea creatures and overall LIVE underwater...That implies that not only deep, unlike a normal human being, does NOT get crushed by the insane pressure found at the bottom of the ocean, but he must also have flesh that resists to insanely cold temperatures, his blood must be ICE cold, and he must basically be able to create sound waves that only dolphins and whales can hear.

I feel like he probably transforms into a more animalistic/sea creature way once he enters water. Like, his skin literally turns into scales, he has fins all over his back and shoulders, he has webbed hands to swim better and he DEFINITELY has sharp teeth like a fish.

He probably has the same exact organ distribution of a fish but somewhat also similar to a human. He can live and survive both on land and water so it's crazy to me what his body must be like biologically speaking.

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[torncolourfultights]

kimiko miyashiro

[popstarbarbiee]

Casual Tides

<prev next>

The sun was setting over Los Angeles, casting a warm, golden glow across the city. It had been months since The Deep had left that beach, since he had watched Logan disappear into the ocean’s depths. He had spent every waking moment since then searching the coastline, diving into the darkest, coldest waters, hoping against hope that somehow, Logan had survived.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the hope had faded, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He had returned to his old life, thrown himself back into the chaos of the world, trying to forget. But nothing could fill the void that Logan had left behind.

It wasn’t until he found himself in Los Angeles, on yet another meaningless mission for Vought, that he started hearing the rumors. They whispered through the bars and back alleys, stories of a man with claws who couldn’t be killed, seen in the company of another — a man in a red suit with a mouth that never stopped running.

The Deep hadn’t wanted to believe it. He had convinced himself that Logan was gone. It was easier that way. But when he heard those stories, something stirred within him, something he couldn’t ignore. He had to know. He had to see for himself.

---

The club was loud, the music pulsating through the walls, making the floor beneath his feet vibrate. The Deep pushed through the throngs of people, his heart racing, his mind a blur of confusion and nerves. He had never liked places like this — the strobe lights, the pounding bass, the way everyone seemed to be drowning in their own hedonism. But this was where the rumors had led him, to this underground club on the outskirts of the city.

He made his way to the back, to the private rooms where the noise was muffled, and the air was thick with the scent of cigars and sweat. He could hear laughter echoing from behind one of the doors, a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a chill down his spine. It was a laugh he recognized, a laugh that made his heart clench with something he couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. What if it was true? What if Logan was alive? And what if... what if he wasn’t alone?

Taking a deep breath, The Deep pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with smoke. The first thing he saw was the unmistakable flash of red — Deadpool, sprawled out on a worn leather couch, holding a glass of something amber and laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. And next to him, leaning casually against the bar, was Logan. He was alive, whole, and seemingly untouched by the time that had passed. His leather jacket hung open, and a cigar was perched between his fingers, smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

For a moment, The Deep couldn’t breathe. It was as if the world had stopped, everything narrowing down to the sight of Logan, alive and well, standing so close, yet feeling impossibly far away.

Deadpool noticed him first, his masked face turning toward the door. “Well, well, well! Look who decided to join the party!” he exclaimed, his voice oozing with sarcasm and charm. “If it isn’t Fishsticks! Long time no see, buddy!”

Logan turned slowly, his eyes locking onto The Deep’s, and the smile faded from his face. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

The Deep took a shaky step forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Logan...”

Logan’s expression was unreadable, his eyes cold, distant. “You should go,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth The Deep had once known.

The Deep felt his heart break all over again. “I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice trembling. “I searched for you. I didn’t stop looking, Logan. And now... now I find you here, with him?” He shot a glance at Deadpool, who was watching the exchange with a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him.

Deadpool clapped his hands together. “Oh, this is better than any telenovela! Please, don’t let me interrupt. Continue with the angst and heartbreak. I live for this stuff!”

Logan shot him a glare. “Shut up, Wade.”

Deadpool raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be the good little sidekick and stay out of it. But you better make this worth my time, claw boy.”

The Deep ignored Deadpool, his focus entirely on Logan. “Why didn’t you come back? Why did you just... leave me?”

Logan sighed, setting his cigar down on the bar. “I did it for you,” he said, his voice gruff, yet tinged with something that might have been regret. “You were right. I’m dangerous. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You think this is better?” The Deep asked, his voice rising with a mix of anger and pain. “You think running away with *him*,” he spat, glancing at Deadpool, “was better than trying to work through it together?”

Deadpool rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Hey now, no need to drag me into your love spat. Logan and I are just having a little fun, no strings attached. You know, keeping it *casual*,” he said, the word dripping with innuendo. “I thought you’d appreciate that, Fishboy. Isn’t that more your style?”

The Deep flinched, the words hitting too close to home. He had always been the one to keep things casual, to avoid getting too close, too attached. But with Logan, it had been different. He had let himself fall, let himself hope, and now he was paying the price.

“I didn’t ask for this,” The Deep whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t ask to care.”

Logan’s eyes softened, just for a moment, before he hardened them again, pushing down whatever emotion threatened to surface. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late. Wade and I... we’ve got a thing going. It’s easier this way.”

The Deep felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He had lost Logan once, and now, he was losing him all over again. And this time, it hurt even more.

“You don’t have to do this,” The Deep said, desperation creeping into his voice. “We can try again. We can—”

“No,” Logan cut him off, his tone final. “It’s done. What we had, it’s over.”

Deadpool slid off the couch, sauntering over to Logan’s side. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders, grinning beneath his mask. “Don’t worry, Fishsticks. I’ll take good care of him. We’re just two guys having a good time, nothing serious. You can go back to your fishy ways, no hard feelings.”

The Deep’s stomach twisted with a mix of jealousy and despair. He could see the way Logan leaned into Deadpool’s touch, the way he relaxed in his presence, and it tore him apart. But what hurt the most was the realization that maybe, just maybe, Logan was happier this way. Happier without him.

“Fine,” The Deep said, his voice hollow. “If this is what you want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The Deep turned to leave, but before he stepped out the door, he paused, glancing back one last time. “I loved you, Logan. I still do. But I can’t keep chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”

Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet The Deep’s eyes.

Deadpool gave a little wave. “See you around, Fishsticks. Don’t be a stranger. Or do. Whatever floats your boat.”

The Deep swallowed the lump in his throat, and without another word, he walked out of the room, out of the club, and into the night.

As he stepped into the cool evening air, the sounds of the city buzzing around him, he felt the weight of finality settle over him. The Logan he had known, the Logan he had loved, was gone. And maybe he had been right all along. Maybe the ocean didn’t love him. Maybe no one did.

He kept walking, the city lights blurring around him, as he tried to push down the ache in his chest. He had always been good at keeping things casual, at not letting himself get too attached. Maybe it was time to go back to that, to stop hoping for something more.

But as he walked away from that club, from Logan, from everything they had been, The Deep couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving a piece of himself behind. A piece that he might never get back.

And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

[masempaix]

Y/n: Looking delicious in that outfit, babygirl *wink*

Soldier Boy: did she just ca—

Hughie: It’s meant you’re attractive man

[goodbyetothenight]

[ratmonky]

Business Strategy

warnings: manipulation

word count: 1k

ao3 link

Some people needed attention, some people needed love and Gods needed to be worshipped. 

"You have been trending on almost every visual media and as a podcast topic. How does it feel to be worshipped by everyone?"

Everyone but you.

You look down at him as you sit on your desk with your legs crossed, an unnoticeable smile on your lips. The tip of his cock is glistening with precum that drips on the polished floor. He is impatiently rubbing himself while staring up at you, eyes like a puppy's, begging for you to continue.

"Good work today, John," you praise him, your smile getting wider as his hand around his hand gets faster. "If you manage to spend a single day without any casualties I might even pat your head and rest it on my lap."

He nods with his eyes wide, staring at your bottom as his mouth opens. You don’t scold or comment on him for using his X-ray vision. He has been working hard lately to make you so proud. Precious John. He wakes up every day to make his pretty boss happy and sits by her desk like an obedient dog, waiting to be rewarded.

His gloved hand moves hastily around his cock, it makes a squeaky sound with each stroke. It brings you out of your thoughts.

You continue to smile, watching him pathetically jerk off on another work day after giving his report of the day. You wonder what he is thinking about right now. A scenario where he sucks on your tits while he has his head on your lap and lets you jerk him off? Or getting fed up with your strange power over him and bending you over the desk right now? He would rip your tights and pull up your skirt, humping you aimlessly until his cock finally slid inside. Wouldn't that feel good? You wonder if he had it in him to even pull something risky like that but he would never risk upsetting you. 

Good little John. 

Begging to be yours.

You decide you want to reward him after the intense feeling of heat building inside your core, making your legs tremble and pussy leak. 

"I'll let you do whatever," you say softly, lifting his chin with the front part of your heels. His eyes are on you, clouded from lust. "Just tell me what you want, John." 

There is a smile on his face. "I want to eat your pussy," he says after clearing his throat. Nonetheless, his tone is pathetic and desperate, he cannot hide the excited expression on his face like he has been waiting for this moment all his life.

With grace, you spread your legs and let him rip your tights in the middle. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk and slides your panties to the side. He doesn't bother lifting your skirt and shoves his face in your crotch while proceeding to pump his cock.

The feeling of his hot and wet tongue against your folds feels heavenly after a long day of work. You tilt your head up and close your eyes to focus on how he moves his tongue. He kisses your pussy slowly, nose touching your clit. He slides his tongue inside you in an attempt to taste you and quickly decides against it to focus on pleasing you. His hand on your thigh squeezes the flesh and he tries to imagine how your ass would feel like on his cock when you finally would let him fuck you. He moves to your clit, lapping at your sweet spot and drawing tight circles that get smaller and smaller. 

You don’t want to admit it but it feels so good, you try to curl your toes but you don’t have enough space in your heels to do so, you let your legs rest on his shoulders. He keeps moving in a way that mimics fucking you and you find yourself imagining going against your own rule and letting him ravish you like he has been always dreaming about. 

As he gets close to his orgasm he loses the rhythm of his tongue and basically moves his head up and down as if he were nodding with his tongue rubbing wildly against your pussy. Your hands grip the desk harder and you let out a quiet moan. He laps at your cunt like a fucking dog and it just works. You feel the rush of an orgasm wash over you and your legs shake as he groans and cums with you. He groans and goes frigid for a second before letting himself sit on the floor to rest. 

There is a short moment before you jump down from the desk to fix your clothing and he follows your lead and gets up to fix himself as you return to your seat this time. 

"I expect another great day from you tomorrow, John," you say while starting to type on the keyboard of your laptop. 

"Yes, sure," he chuckles. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Night," you correct him, his smile disappears as you inform him about tomorrow. "I'll be taking care of A-Train in the morning. Noir has a short meeting with me in the afternoon and well, Deep has been waiting for weeks to have a meeting, I'll take him in the evening."

He frowns, his eyes losing any sign of life in them.

You sigh and roll your eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow night at my house, hmm?" You watch another grin creep up on his face, "Don't get any ideas unless you plan to do something that'll raise our profits by 30%."

He grins all the same, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then." Then he leaves unwillingly because he knows you're having a meeting with sponsors in an hour. 

The next day, you wake up to the news of Homelander selling his official Vought merch in front of the tower and giving interviews about his new show that will air only on Vought+.

[mommy-mortis]

Since season 4 of The boys is dropping today I want to remind everyone to clean and charge their sex toys.

[the-fucking-cannibal]

Their outfits to go to Pride 💗🌈

Bonus if you accidentally bump into your ex boyfriend there and you gotta act like you still get along even tho y'all clearly hate eachother 🥶

[gallavichsreddie1128]

His What? (Homelander)

Description: Nobody believes that Homelander has a wife even when she’s right in front of them.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 877

Author’s note: Send in requests for The Boys!!!

The Deep’s jaw dropped and Maeve laughed. The rest of the room went silent, too scared to have a reaction. “Your Wife?” The Deep asked as if that was the most shocking thing he’s ever heard. “Yeah right.” Maeve said. There was no way that Homelander had a wife. Who the fuck would want to marry him? “Yes my wife and I don’t know why that is so shocking.” “Have you met yourself?” Maeve asked. He ignored her question and carried on with the meeting. 

Y/N made dinner for the two of them as she waited for him to come home. Homelander was a different person at his house. He was John just for his wife. She heard him land outside the house and just in time for dinner to be done. She set out plates and as he walked in he smelt the delicious food that she made. “Hey babe, how was work?” She asked as she brought the food to the table. “They don’t believe you exist.” He said as he sat down at the table. “Who doesn’t believe I exist?” She asked as she sat down across from him. “The Seven.” He said and frowned.

Her eyes softened as she saw the frown on his face. “Why not?” She asked as she took a bite of the food. “I have no clue.” He said but that was a lie. He had more than just a clue. He knew why. “Well then tomorrow they are going to be shocked.” She said and he gave her a small smile. She never looked at him like he did anything wrong. She loved him for him and well that was all he could ask for.

The Seven’s jaws were to the floor as they stared at the beautiful woman that was in Homelander’s chair. Homie stood behind the chair and smirked at the reactions. “How much did he give you?” Maeve asked. Y/N looked at her confused. “What?” “How much money did he give you to act like his wife?” She asked. Homelander’s smirk dropped but Y/N brought it back. “I’m his wife you dumb bitch he didn’t pay me anything.” A Train let out a laugh as Maeve’s face went red. “Any other questions?” She asked and looked around at the members.

“Why him?” A Train asked. “Yeah. You’re so fucking hot and you end up with him?” The Deep asked. They knew that Homelander wouldn’t hurt them while Y/N was right there. “He’s hot too. And I’m not sure why this surprises you guys.” She said. “What can I do to get you guys to believe me?” Homelander asked. “Fuck her.” The Deep said. Y/N looked at him in disgusted. “What?” She asked. “If you guys are married then fuck.” “I’m not fucking my wife in front of you, you perv-” “Okay.” Y/N said and stood up. Homelander looked at her in shock as she motioned for him to take a seat in the chair. He did and she stripped down in front of the others.

Homie didn’t like that so much but she motioned for him to pull down his pants. Her shirt was still on and nothing else as she straddled him. His dick was already rock hard like every other dick in the room. Her hand ran itself up and down his dick as he held back groans. He bit his lip and tried not to think about the fact that everyone was watching them. She lined herself up with his dick and slid on it like she was used to it already. She was but to the others that was impressive. She gasped out and he finally let out a groan. She looked back at the others and all of them still looked shocked and some even looked in awe at the sight.

She smirked as she made eye contact with the Deep and started moving her hips. He didn’t know where to look. Her fucked out face or her hips riding Homelander’s cock? A Train stared directly at her bare ass as it moved. Homelander noticed this and moved his hands from her hips to her ass so he couldn’t stare any longer. She let out a soft moan as his hands helped her ride him. He stared up at her in awe and she stared back down at him with a small smile.

It took everything in A Train and Deep not to jerk off to the sight. Y/N felt herself get close at the thought of them watching her fuck her husband. “John, I’m close.” She whimpered and he chuckled. “Fucking me in front of my co workers just to prove that you belong to me.” He growled and one of his hands grabbed her throat.

She gasped and moaned out, “I do belong to you John. Every part of me.” The two got lost in each other, dirty talking and moaning until they both came. She let out the loudest moan as she came all over him. “Fuck.” Deep whispered as he watched her body shake and give out. Homelander came right after her and held her close as they calmed down. She sat up moments later and looked back at the seven. “Now do you believe us?”