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blindmagdalena · 2 years ago

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Can I request a drabble? The length is up to you, where the homelander meets the reader for the first time, and they have a massive crush on him, and he can hear their heart going so fast and finds it so flattering and makes his ego much bigger than it needs to be. Thank you!!

ohhhhh this didn't entirely turn out the way i expected, but i hope you like it anyways! thanks so much for the request!

2.6k homelander x gn reader, sfw except for homelander's internal dialogue and a wee bit at the end. timeline is either early or pre s1. i know i usually skew towards female readers, but i tried to keep this one entirely gender neutral. let me know how i did, and enjoy! 🖤

Meeting fans is an everyday recurrence for Homelander. It's expected from a man of his station and notoriety. Aside from happenstance encounters during his daily duties, there’s also conventions and meet-and-greets. In addition, every once in a while, Vought employees are given the opportunity to invite friends and family for a tour of the tower. Rarer yet, for the chance to meet members of The Seven. Of them all, Homelander is without a doubt, in his humble opinion, the most enduring among them. Most often it’s children and spouses. For them, it’s the best day of their lives. For Homelander, it’s just another Wednesday.

Nonetheless, he tirelessly grins bright for every sticky-faced child and overgrown fanboy. He salutes diligently for selfies, and signs enough autographs to dry out his sharpie. The movements are automatic by now. Object comes in, object is signed, object is returned. Smile. Salute. You’re the real heroes!

Every single second of it is like the monotonous tick of a clock. Greasy fingers loudly slapping against touch screens, the occasional flash that he pretends doesn’t set his teeth on edge.

He’s handed another piece of paper, he signs it, he offers it back out.

Except you don’t take it. Instead, you’re just staring at him.

Suddenly, Homelander is zapped back to reality, the dissociative clockwork grind coming to a halt. He blinks, looking down, and realizes the paper he’s just signed is an envelope. Beneath his scrawling signature, a previous note is visible: To Homelander. He assumes that’s your name written just below it. It’s a letter for him.

“Oh, haha. Wow. Talk about your bonehead moves,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to playfully knock on his own skull. “Hello, is anyone home?”

You laugh, and he takes the opportunity to actually look at you. You’re bright eyed and as starstruck as any fan, but there’s a sincerity to your smile that’s more noteworthy than most. Your gaze has clarity to it that tells him you’re not just looking at a famous person, you’re looking at him. He likes that.

Now that he’s actually paying attention, he’s surprised the beat of your heart didn’t hook him first. It’s pounding in your chest, the heat of it giving you a healthy flush all over. He’s willing to bet he could feel the heat of your skin clear through his gloves. Look at you, he thinks, biting back a wolfish smile. He knows already that you’d melt sweeter than ice cream in his hands. He licks his lips, giving you a once over. His eyes move quickly enough that you couldn’t possibly have seen it.

You prove distracting enough that he doesn’t even notice the man at your side until he speaks.

“There, happy? Been begging me for this for weeks,” the man says, giving you a nudge. He grins when he says, “Now you owe me one.” Homelander cocks his head sharply, like a bird of prey catching sight of a rat. “I was not begging,” you say under your breath, visibly flustered. You pull away from his second attempt to nudge you. “Dan, please,” you say, the word stressed in a way that seems to hold meaning between the two of you.

Please what, Dan? How about ‘Please don’t fucking embarrass me in front of the goddamn Homelander’?

Homelander sizes the guy up, subtly quirking a brow. He looks like someone’s intern, or maybe a tech grunt. Flimsy, without an ounce of charisma or presence. He probably would have mistaken the guy for a tall house plant if he hadn’t said anything.

“This your boyfriend?” He asks, maintaining that friendly tone of his. Neither of you seem to notice the edge creeping into it. He taps the envelope absently against his palm. “No! No, no,” You’re quick to say. Homelander doesn’t miss the look Dan gives you at the sharpness of your response. “Just friends.”

He smiles. Woof, that’s gatta sting, huh, buddy? It’s hilarious to think what this guy thought bringing you to Homelander was gonna do for his obvious situation. Did he think it was gonna get him a nice thank-you blowjob, or worse, a relationship? As if you’d have any interest in Dan after meeting an honest to god superhero. Someone you’ve apparently been begging to meet, which certainly paints a pretty picture.

Homelander begins peeling open the letter, but you throw out your hand to stop him, gently touching the top of his. He was right, he really can feel the heat of you through the leather. “Wait! I’m sorry, I just want to say thank you, and tell you that I admire you so much, which is already in that letter, and I’m rambling, and I’m sorry for that too, but I would probably shrivel up and die right now if you read that letter before I’m twenty miles away,” you say, nervous laughter bubbling up towards the end. You belatedly snatch your hand away, twice as flustered as you had been a moment before. He can still feel the lingering warmth of your hand on his.

“Holy smokes, fan behavior much?” Dan laughs, wrapping his arm around you to give your shoulder a little shake. It’s pathetic how desperately he’s trying to make himself relevant right now. Worse than that is how blatantly uninterested in him you are. Homelander very nearly rolls his eyes.

Instead, he purposefully softens his expression. He tucks the letter into his belt, and puts his hands on his hips. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the courtyard yet, have you? They call it The Garden of Heroes,” he says, leaning in to whisper the last bit to you, as if it’s a secret.

Your breath catches when he leans so near to you, and you shake your head. You give such a sweet little smile, he almost kisses you right then and there. You’re so wrapped around his finger, he’s sure you’d welcome it. He’d love to rub it in the nose of this joke of a man standing next to you, a man who was idiotic enough to deliver someone he clearly wanted right into Homelander’s hands.

Instead, he simply gestures you forward. “Then allow me to finish out your tour properly.”

You look thoroughly enchanted, eyes blown wide, lips parted. “Okay, yes! Sure. I would love that,” you say, excited as can be. You take a step forward, and he maneuvers himself perfectly between you and Dan, settling a hand on the small of your back to guide you. As the three of you walk, he catches Dan’s eye, and tosses him a wink.

For the rest of the walk, he savors the sound of Dan gritting his teeth.

Outside, Homelander gestures broadly to Vought’s expansive courtyard garden. It’s decorated with statues of heroes past and present, staggering monuments kept in pristine condition. He walks the two of you down a handful of rows, but in accordance with his plan, he stops abruptly. Putting his hands on his hips, he blows a raspberry. “You know, the view’s just not the same from down here.” Next, he makes a face, as if this brilliant idea has only just occurred to him, and snaps his fingers before he points to you. “Hey, why don’t you let me show you my view?”

“Your view?” You echo, glancing at Dan, who by this point has taken the very mature approach of outright moping. “Yeah! C’mere, let me give you a real tour,” he says, holding his hand out to you.

“Uh, I don’t think that–” Dan begins, but you’re already stepping past him, taking Homelander’s outstretched hand. With a bright smile, you say, “I’d love that.”

For as eagerly as you accept, you still yelp when Homelander effortlessly hauls you up into his arms. With one arm at your back, and the other supporting your knees, he says, “Hang on tight,” and shoots into the sky so swiftly, Dan is left shielding his face from the swirling winds of debris your ascent kicks up.

At first, Homelander thinks you’re screaming. After a beat, however, he realizes you’re laughing, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck, you’d be choking out anyone else. Gradually, he slows to a stop, hovering dozens upon dozens of feet off the ground, Dan and the gardens below a distant thought. Your breaths are coming in sharp and shallow, and if he thought your heart was pounding before, it’s nothing compared to now. It might just burst right out of your chest.

You’re still working out the giggles, or maybe you’re coming down from a mild hysteria. Either way, you eventually start to breathe more evenly, though your hold around his neck doesn’t loosen whatsoever.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, peering down at the distant earth below. When you turn back to look at him, you look surprised all over to be face to face with him. Homelander, who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, flashes his best hero’s smile. He’s satisfied by the way you fluster all over again, quickly looking away, hyper aware of how close your faces are, the press of your bodies as he holds you. It all happened so fast, perhaps it hadn’t dawned on you when you accepted that you would be so wholly at his mercy, snug in his arms, fifty feet in the air.

Works every time.

Homelander absently taps his fingers where he’s holding your leg. “What’d I tell you? Nothing beats this view.”

“It’s amazing,” you say, lifting your gaze to stare out across the city scape. “I can’t believe you can just… do this. You’re amazing,” you say, and though you don’t meet his eye, the sincerity in that praise strikes right through to the core of him like a hot lance.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, musing on every one of his wonders he could show you. If you think this is amazing, wait until you see what he can do with his strength.

The wind must be loud in your ears, because you look back to him and ask, “What?”

“I said you’re too kind,” he says louder, teeth sharp and pearly white as he lies cleanly through them. You smile, none the wiser, but this time your gaze lingers on his. Your arms aren’t in quite such a chokehold around his neck anymore. You’re leaning against him more easily now, learning to trust the security of his hold.

“Do you do this for all your smitten fans?” You ask. You must think you’re being subtle with the way your fingers are toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, but he feels it viscerally. Whether you know it or not, you’re making it difficult for him to focus, to maintain the facade.

“Smitten?” He repeats, his smile turning a touch sly. “Is that what that letter is about?”

“Oh, god,” you say, lifting your hand from his neck to cover your face. He wishes you’d put it back, keep playing with his hair like that. “On second thought, maybe give me that back. Or burn it.” “No, no, it’s mine now. What’s in it? I mean, I could always just read it now,” he says, taking his arm from your back to reach threateningly for his belt. The lack of support prompts you to secure your arms back around his neck with a cute, distressed little noise.

“To be completely honest, I’d rather you dropped me,” you say, earning a bark of laughter from him. It’s the first genuine laugh he’s had all day. Maybe all week.

“Cahhh’mooooonnn,” he drawls, putting his arm back around you. “It can’t be that bad.” “It’s pretty tragic,” you lament, though your sheepish little smile suggests otherwise. He lifts both brows, stubbornly holding your gaze until you finally exhale a breath that tells him he’s won. “I… God, this is embarrassing. You, uhm… I know that I don’t know the real you, but who you are to the public, and the things you do… You mean a lot to me. You’ve brought me a lot of comfort. Helped bring me out of some pretty dark places, and I wanted to say thank you. For that. For choosing to be someone good when a lot of people weren’t.”

Homelander blinks. It shouldn’t catch him off guard. Your sincerity was what drew him in in the first place. Of course you don’t know the real him. No one does. By that same token, no one’s ever acknowledged to his face that there might be more to him than what Vought spoon feeds America’s braindead population through movies, TV specials, hokey interviews, and every other possible means of exploitation.

You don’t talk like you know him, but you sure as fuck sound as though you’d like to know him.

The silence stretches on just a hair too long, and he sees uncertainty rising in your eyes. He clears his throat, and breaks the sudden tension with a well practiced chuckle. “Well, that’s what heroes do, isn’t it? They save people.”

“Yeah,” you say, and he’s not sure how he can be expected to think when your fingers graze the back of his neck like that. “You’ve always been my hero.”

He’s close to you now, closer than ever before. He can’t smell anything aside from the crisp scent of peppermint lingering on your breath. He imagines you popping a mint between those soft lips in anticipation of this moment, as if you were the mastermind who had orchestrated all of this, and not the other way around. For the first time, he lets you see the way his gaze dips briefly to your mouth. He licks his own lips reflexively.

“Righty then, whelp… You’ve got a choice to make now,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I can begin our descent, deliver you safely back onto solid ground, back to… Dan,” he says, unable to keep the edge of distaste off his tongue when he drops the name. “And the two of you can go about your day.”

He waits long enough that you’re the one to prompt him with, “Or…?”

“Or,” he picks up, lips curving into a pleased smile. “I can just take you straight home, and you can forget all about whatever he thinks you owe him.”

You bite your lip, stifling a smile. There it is again, the quickening of your pulse, the eager pattering of your heart. Now he can feel the heat of your body against him, seeping through the layers that separate you, teasing him.

“Sounds like I’ll just be going from owing him to owing you,” you say, playing as if you’re mentally balancing the pros and cons between the two. He doesn’t buy it for a second.

Homelander clicks his tongue. “Mmm, mhm, mm. I see. And is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

Instead of answering, you kiss him. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Homelander is genuinely shocked by it. Between the heartfelt letter, the shy smiles and the generally reserved way you’d handled yourself, he really didn’t think you had it in you. Yet here he is, melting into the press of your lips–they’re as soft as they looked–and pulling you closer, deeper.

A noise dangerously close to a whimper escapes the back of his throat when you push your fingers up into his hair. He opens easily to the first swipe of your tongue, reciprocating without hesitation. What he had previously interpreted as shyness strikes him now as finely measured control.

You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?

By the time the two of you part, you’re both breathing in shallow, warm huffs against the others lips.

“I’m good with risks,” you say, voice low. “Are you?”

Homelander, wild-eyed and hard as a rock, laughs airily. “Fuck yes I am.”

You smile, making no attempts this time to hide it, and finally, Homelander sees deviousness to the edges of it that he did not notice before. “Good. Then take me home.”

With goddamn pleasure.

#is this anything???? haha sometimes i write a fic and i'm like GOD I HOPE THIS IS SOMETHING #anyways you sent this a million years ago but i hope you like it! <3 #homelander x reader #homelander x you #my writing #ask and you shall receive #gn reader #fluff #i should NOT be posting fic this late but i'm not disciplined enough to wait and post at a reasonable hour so i'll just rb it later lolol

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