alexthecapri - Tumblr blog

alexthecapri · 3 years ago

Text

IF I COULD KILL YOU, I WOULD - the boys x reader

author’s note: been hooked on the boys for the past few weeks and the beginning of season three left me feeling very frustrated, so here’s how i decided to vent. warning of spoilers up until the beginning of season three.

!: there are like three song references in this lol hope you catch all of them

presets: i like to write body-neutral inserts as well as i can, but this once i felt like the reader “looking” like a girl to homelander made plot difference, and it’s explained eventually why at the end of the story. reader has no assigned gender, but talks about using female appearance to manipulate a situation! no gendered pronouns used.

:. 2.816 words

In preparation for what you knew was going to be a long night, chasing after your leftover tasks of the day, you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, returning to the living room ready to start your marathon of catching up with everything you missed.

Except that just as you sat down on the sofa you were interrupted by your stomach, that started to make you feel unexpectedly bloated, and your bladder, that screamed at you to go to the bathroom. And so, you decided to listen to your body and scurried away to the toilet.

When you got there, you opened the door, turned on the lights and moved to lock yourself in. You spun on the back of your feet to face the mirror above the sink, just for that casual check of if you looked as hot as you felt like, and you found yourself face to face with a very big room, with windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, showing you skyscrapers in the distance. Inside the room, there were TV panels with some news being broadcasted by different channels, and some graphics you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. In the middle of the room, there was a big table in the shape of a triangle, with the inner part cut out. But… it didn’t really look like a triangle, more like-

Fuck. Oh, fuck. The table was shaped as a V, with the bottom and middle corner pointed towards the windows.

V as in Vought. V as in The fucking Seven.

“What the fuck.” You said, shivering as soon as you heard your own words echo back at you.

You didn’t even have time to ponder over how the hell you got teleported from your parent’s house, from the bathroom, even more, to another place entirely. The real issue was that you were standing in a room that by itself could mean one of two possibilities:

you were accidentally trespassing the site of filming for Amazon Prime’s series The Boys;

or, and the most terrifying option,

you were at the actual Vought Tower.

And even though some part of you tried to call you stupid for even thinking of option 2, the other side of your wrinkly gray matter counter argued that teleporting from your bathroom to another place was also stupid. Improbable, inconsequent, impossible, indictive-

Were you having a stroke?

You lifted your hand to count your fingers, for no reason whatsoever. It just seemed like a good idea to use your counting ability as a measure of if this was reality or if you were currently having a seizure on your bathroom’s floor and were hallucinating, or something.

Then, the doors opened behind you, and you heard a voice that chilled your body.

“Oh?”

You swore to yourself, then and there, that if you turned around and saw Homelander, that you’d attack him and ask questions later.

And as you saw him, that idea went completely out of your head.

You could see, even from afar, the twinkle of absolute depravity and madness on his face. He looked exactly as he did on the show. Once more, you thought that you could also be on the filming set of the series, and that physically attacking an actor wouldn’t be good for you - but, to be honest, what ultimately made you not act on your impulses was the bloodlust that you could see in the way his lips curled, mimicking a smile, even though it looked more like he wanted to rip his own face off.

You’d gladly help. Just looking at Homelander in person made your skin crawl. Fucking disgusting piece of-

“And what are you doing here?”

He asked, and his haughty demeanor didn’t change for a second. Behind him, you saw Black Noir turn the corner, and you felt your luck running out as the clock ticked by.

“Oh! I’m, uh, so sorry, Mr. Homelander!” And you brought about the nicest, good-girl looking grin you had, pretending to be shy and trying to look flustered. He had to believe that you were a silly fan, and that your heart was racing in attraction and not terror, or he’d blast your face off. “My mom works at the lab, and she took me here to see what my future could look like if I interned for Vought!”

Many times before, your ability to lie easily had put you in trouble, nonsensically creating small lies by habit and compulsively, but this once, you were very, very proud of what you could come up with on the spot.

He changed his smile for something more fan-service like, and you willed your brain to see him as something other than a fucking genocidal dictator, so you could keep pretending you were enamored with the piece of shit that called himself Homelander.

Black Noir, meanwhile, stood exactly where he was. Not moving a single fucking muscle, almost making your hairline sweat by pure intimidation tactics.

“Ha!” Laughed Homelander, and you tried not to let your smile tremble at the loud noise. “It’s very admirable to have your future planned, especially at a company as special as Vought.”

“Thank you!” You answered, lowering your head and making your eyes fidget back and forth from his face to anywhere else. You could literally hear a giggly ‘I’m shy’ going off in your head, and it took all of you to keep the sarcasm away from your voice. This was a man that could literally fry you. “I’ve actually always wanted to work for The Seven. I think the work you guys do is admirable,” and you also gestured to Black Noir, just out of spite, “and being part of the people that back your patriotic service is the most important thing I could do.”

For a moment, you could feel your neck and back tense, scared of having overdone it. You hated the patriotic nonsense this spangled asshole spewed, and you would never work for his cause - especially after that whole thing with Shitfront, being a Nazi and all - and you really, really wanted to bash his head in.

But diplomacy first, aggression later. You had to survive this before you blew Homelander to pieces.

He laughed again, and your escape made itself aware to you by the return of the pressure on your lower stomach just before he opened his slimy mouth.

“I also got lost, I, uh, was looking for the bathroom?”

°°°

After Black Noir simply pointed the correct way, you sprinted out of the room with a sweet smile and a call of “thank you for your service!” that made you want to swallow your own tongue.

Disgusting. Despicable. Derogatory. Diminutive-

“Are you alright?” And at the sound of someone else talking to you, you spun away from the mirror only to see Annie looking concerned.

Well, understandable. You did spend the last twenty minutes with your face shoved into the sink, eyes wide and unmoving. The fact that you didn’t see a single camera or filming crew on your way to the bathroom further drove the point home that, unfortunately, you weren’t going to be arrested for trespassing on private property, or even fined.

You might actually be a part of the fucked up and apocalyptic world of The Boys, and with that being true, you kind of wanted to spontaneously combust.

“You won’t believe how happy I am to see you.”

She seemed startled, but tried to smile, possibly thinking you were a crazy fan. Well, you were a little crazy, so she got at least one thing right.

“Do you have your phone on you? I need you to put on a song for me.” And even though you knew you sounded crazy, her own tactics to avoid being overheard were simply too genial for you not to borrow them. You wildly gestured with your eyebrows, even mimicking Homelander’s pose, so she could try and gather why you’d ask something like that of her.

Her eyes shone both in suspicion and recognition. “Uh, okay.”

Before she could scroll through her playlists, you intervened. “Chelsea Dagger. That’s a good one.”

Annie really looked like you were the weirdest person she’d ever seen, but honestly, considering the recent events on episode four, of Homelander killing Alex, you for sure weren’t the weirdest and-

Wait, wait. Were you even on episode four?

As the song started to ring out, you swallowed your lasting nerves of not knowing what the fuck was going on and cut the chase as soon as the vocals joined the instruments, knowing the fast-paced rhythm and singing would cover up your words for anyone else but her.

With a glance around the bathroom to see if the other stalls were vacant, you found yourself satisfied and opened up the conversation with, “I need you to take me to Butcher.”

Starlight took a step back, but you could see she was intrigued, despite being extremely on edge.

“Look, it will take me a while to explain, and I’d rather just do it once,” you carried on, before she could interrupt, “but for now, you just need to know that I know a lot more shit than I was supposed to, and I need to talk to all of you. The whole team.”

She stuttered, but held her ground of suspicion. “And who’s this ‘whole team’ you’re referring to?"

“Butcher, you, Hughie, Marvin, Frenchie, Kimiko. Last I checked, they’re all laying low at a store’s basement or something.” Her eyes started to glow, and the lights in the bathroom flickered, and you rushed to add on to anything that would make her feel less threatened. “Look! Look. I’m on your side, ok? I- fuck, cuff me, or you can, like, torch me with your powers if after we all talk you still feel like I’m a threat, but just please hear me out? I really want to help.”

Honestly, if it were you hearing your own speech, you would have fried yourself on the spot. Weak ass arguments, completely crazy and a liability for their kill-Homelander-plans, but you must’ve done something right, because Starlight was dimming her powers and looking at you with slightly less murderous intent.

Good.

“If you try anything, I’ll make you regret it.”

And even if she was a super, you didn’t really take her narrowed eyes and grinding teeth as seriously as you should. But, well, after facing Homelander and lying straight to his face, and surviving to tell the tale, you were feeling a little too lucky.

You were sure they were going to believe you.

°°°

“I don’t believe a fucking word you’re saying.”

Ah, there goes your confidence.

William Butcher was even brasher than you thought he could be, leering at you with that creepy, arrogant smile of his. It was still kinda nice to get to see this completely deranged anti-hero in person.

“And where the fuck did you find this idiot?” He asked, this time turning to look at Annie.

“Look! I’m not fucking lying, you bully.” You said, making Hughie’s eyes widen in astonishment. You had told them everything you knew, down to what you were doing before getting kidnapped into this mess of a universe and what happened at the tower, even exactly what you told Annie before convincing her to take you to the hide-out, and it had no effect on them. Time to pull out the ‘I know what you did in the dark’ card. “Hit me with the most recent supe-related news, and I’ll tell you what I know about it.”

Frenchie jumped at the chance. “Termite!” And when you just stared at him, even though Hughie was most definitely doing the cutthroat gesture at him, Frenchie just powered through, gesticulating wildly to illustrate his words. “Is it true that he shrinks himself and goes up people’s ass?”

Just like that, you had a lightbulb moment, even though the idea of recalling what happened sent a shiver of regret up your spine already.

“You haven’t gone after him yet?” And Hughie facepalmed, obviously concerned about having shared the mission with you, specially after Frenchie told you they’d do it tonight. “This is perfect, then. I’m going to detail everything that’s going to happen to Starlight, and she can confirm after the mission if I got it right.”

“And if you are, how do we know you didn’t set everything up?” Called Hughie, trying to look tough. You grimaced, and his pose faltered. “And why Starlight?”

“Trust me, I couldn’t make up what’s going to happen even if I tried. This is just a level above having outside interference, I guarantee you.” You rolled your shoulders back, looking at Annie now. “And she’s the only one I trust to not try to change things, and to keep secrets. She’s also not going to the mission, so. Self explanatory.”

When you told Starlight, away from everybody else, she looked completely mortified, face twisting up with every word you said. You told her about how Frenchie would see Termite fucking a barbie doll in front of an audience, and that the only sweet moment would be Kimiko watching a girl play the piano, and then the whole endeavor of Termite exploding a guy and then Butcher finally catching him with a bag of drugs, and you knew that for a second she wished she’d killed you in the bathroom so that she wouldn’t have to hear any of this.

“Oh, and Frenchie?” You called, just before he left the room with Kimiko to get ready for the mission. “Wear the tightest underwear you have. You’ll thank me later.”

°°°

Starlight left to go back to Vought, and the rest of the team left to deal with Termite and the visions of hell you had to endure back when you watched that episode.

Or was it this episode? Back home, were you part of the show now? Part of you didn’t even want to ponder over that, considering that being in the supe universe hadn’t really clocked in yet with your brain. Maybe you felt like you were really having a seizure and convulsing around, alone at night in the bathroom floor, because nothing else could explaing how the fuck you got here, much less how you’d go back home. No way were you going to stay in this twisted reality for longer than-

“So.” Marvin interrupted your daydreams, being the only one left to look after you. He complained with Butcher for hours before finally agreeing to come, the tipping point being when you took over the call and told him everything you knew of his life. Even though he was, as he said to Butcher, ‘out of the business, asshole’, he still rushed over. Marvin was mostly here to make sure you wouldn’t just wander off and disappear, or fuck everyone over, since now you knew where the hideout was, but you tried to think that he also wanted to keep you company. “Are you really as good at improv as you made it seem?”

You laughed, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It doesn’t make me look like a good person, but uh, yeah. I’m very good at lying, especially on the spot.”

He hummed, looking back at his hands and the drink he held, which looked like Whiskey. Or just some orange alcohol, you had no fucking clue. “You gotta be, by how cleanly you managed to evade Homelander. What was up with that whole story of being an intern?”

“Well.” You remembered your words to the shitty metahuman back on the meeting room, and gave MM a disgusted simper. “Had to fill up his ego, make him disarmed by seeing an innocent girl looking up to him. I guessed that the fastest way to make that fucker underestimate and disregard someone is by hitting both his desperate need of being loved and his chauvinistic view on women. So, had to make him see me as a docile and demure good girl and disassociate myself as a puny human from his grandeur as a god.”

MM’s mouth twisted downwards the more you spoke, and you lifted your own cup of water towards him in salute. Homelander was pathetic, infuriating and disgusting.

A few moments of silence went by, and you smiled before catching Marvin’s attention again.

“In the end, I guess I only made Annie get me to you guys because I actually believe you have a chance of killing that fucker.” Marvin’s eyes widened. You sat back, and he swore you looked a little too much like Butcher, with a crooked grin that reeked of chaos. “And, well, I’ve never been too much of a gore fan, but watching his head get bashed in is a show I wouldn’t miss for the world.”

321 notes · View notes

alexthecapri · 3 years ago

Text

finished writing a very aggressive one shot about how i want to strangle homelander

lol feeling good, will post sometime tomorrow

#homelander #the boys #the boys s3 #gn reader #the boys s2 #william butcher #hughie campbell #annie january #starlight #marvin milk #frenchie #black noir

18 notes · View notes

alexthecapri · 3 years ago

Text

BUT YOU WON'T PICK UP - kate bishop x gn! reader

author’s note: didn’t really think i’d write a part two, but inspiration struck and here we are. not edited! which is a first for me. two people wanted to see a continuation, so I dedicate this to them and the people that followed me, even though i only have one publication. thank you, your interest warmed my heart ♡

:. 1.570 words, PART ONE

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” Kate said, pulling you closer to her. The bed was as warm as your body felt, and you had been fighting the equally warm tears that threatened to escape your eyes for the entire night.

For the first time in who knows how long—actually, you could try to fool yourself, but you kept count. After exactly three months and twenty-one days, Kate had come to New York for the weekend, and her first stop was you.

It had become the usual, to stay home during Fridays. Some part of you still couldn’t believe that you were cast aside, so you’d wait for her. Every single Friday. You, wine and pizza—the food, and not her dog, since he stayed with her mom most of the time. By the end of the night, when she had predictably not shown up, you’d take a shower and go to bed, pretending you hadn’t wasted another night waiting for her. “I was tired, so I stayed in”, was what you’d tell your friends the next week, when they asked why you didn’t go out with them. Every Friday, the same thing, for three months and twenty-one days.

And then she showed up.

Coincidentally, it was the first night that you told your friends you’d meet them at wherever they were. The first time you took it upon yourself to stop grieving over your relationship, waiting for someone who’d never come, and decided to have fun with your friends. Friends you weren’t even sure you’d see after this week—after graduating.

You dressed up. Went back to being a little more of the person you were before you started dating Kate, a little less aware of the world and its hero-related dangers and a little less anxious, as well.

And then she showed up. You had been running around the apartment, gathering everything you needed for the night out, and right as you opened the door to leave, you saw her, still in costume, hand raised and ready to knock.

Everything was a blur now. You didn’t know if you let her in straight away, didn’t know if you gasped her name, if you noticed the blood stains before or after she came back from the shower to join you in bed. All you remember was calling one of your best friends, telling him that you wouldn’t make it, and how you hung up before he even answered.

Your phone’s call log told you that all of that happened three hours ago. You turned off your phone, intent on having a peaceful night, and just as you put it on the nightstand, Kate pulled you even closer to her body.

“I missed you so, so much.”

And you kept on holding the tears back, telling yourself that you should be grateful she was finally home.

“I missed you, too. I feel like there’s so much to catch up on-” and she giggled, burrowing her face against your head and giving it a kiss.

“We do, but I kinda just want to sleep with you. We can talk in the morning.”

And you swallowed a little harshly, not knowing what was wrong and why you almost couldn’t hold the tears back, but happy beyond belief that she was here.

“Of course, baby. I can only imagine how tired you are.”

Some kisses were exchanged, and you slept peacefully, chest feeling fuzzy and in love.

When you woke up, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on her suit.

“Kate?” You called out, drowsiness slipping through your fingers the more you realized what you were seeing.

“Hey!” She said with a smile, leaning back to caress your cheek with her hand. “Didn’t want to wake you up, but I got a call.”

“Oh. Where are you going?” You drew back, trying to evade her touch and not make it obvious at the same time. Her smile didn’t change, and she brought her hand back to her boots to finish lacing them up.

“West. Think I can get a tan at the SoCal beaches during the job? I’m amped to go, bro.” She tried to joke, alluding to how you’d spend nights on end trying to imitate accents and slangs from outside of New York. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done that.

“I thought you were going to stay the weekend.”

“Can’t!” She called back, “I only managed to come because we had a thing going on around Turtle Bay this week—woah!” And she looked back at you, suddenly excited. “Did you know that the Chrysler Building has an entire underground structure?! It goes almost as deep as the building itself goes up!”

While she psyched herself up, retelling details she was most definitely not supposed to share with you, the fact that she only stopped by because of a mission stuck with you.

“How long have you been in New York?” You asked, interrupting her story and making her flux of words slow down. Your eyes were wide, staring at the bedsheets.

“Uh, two weeks, I think? Like, eleven days or so.”

You looked up into her eyes and the tears started to fall.

“You’ve been here for two weeks, and it just occurred to you to see me on your last night?”

She looked halfway between being surprised, worried and defensive. “Uh, I mean, there was a criminal-”

“There’s always a criminal, Kate. With you, there’s always something going on. At first, it were your reckless ideas at uni. After that, your mom. Then, her evil boyfriend. And when you told me all of this,” and you gestured to her suit, “you promised nothing was going to change for us. I warned you not to make promises you couldn’t keep, and you still fucking swore to me.” The tears that you didn’t get to shed last night were finally falling, and it felt catastrophic to let everything out. A dam you couldn’t hold back anymore, not since the first cracks started getting bigger and bigger with every day that passed. “So what changed?”

Her mouth opened and closed, speechless.

“I don’t even think you remember that I didn’t start dating Lady Hawk, or fucking Hawkeye, or whatever you want to call yourself. The girl who asked me out was Kate Bishop—hell, not even Bishop. All I knew was that your name was Kate, and that you loved me. So what changed?”

Minutes passed, and even though your apartment always felt crowded, with the street noise travelling inside through the windows, for a moment everything stilled. You could hear your own heartbeat, feel the teardrops travelling through your face, taste their saltiness when some of it hit your lips instead of dropping to your lap alongside the others.

If Kate had nothing to say, you’d do it for her.

“Get out.”

She didn’t move, except for her widening eyes.

“Get out of my apartment, and don’t come back until you have an answer. A decent, honest and valid answer. Not some shit about how you’re busy saving the world, but the actual reason.”

“Sweetheart, I-”

Her phone rang, and everything stilled again. Your eyes dared her to pick it up, and her hand twitched. Slowly, her gaze moved from your face to her phone.

“Get. Out.” You called again, making her eyes zap back to yours. They were filled with tears, and you could see her own questions on the tip of her tongue. Where is this coming from, what are you talking about, what do you mean. But, as you’ve come to grown accustomed to, she didn’t pick you.

“I have to answer this.” She had her hands raised, as if trying to pacify you. You answered with a wobbling smile, eyes getting even more tear-filled than before.

“You can do that downstairs, after you walk out of the door and leave.”

Kate kept her sight on you, trying to work things out in her head, and silence reigned when the phone stopped vibrating. Whoever was calling had given up, for now.

“I don’t understand, every time I called you said you were fine. Why don’t you tell me what changed?”

But the phone started ringing again, and she looked at the screen again. You huffed out a pitiful laugh, not even sounding sarcastic. Just… defeated.

“Do you even have the time to listen?”

Kate looked briefly into your eyes, before looking back to her phone and getting up.

“I have to go.”

And you watched her pick up her bag, motioning to leave.

“Kate.” You called, just before she walked out of your bedroom. She looked back at you, and you breathed deeply to hold the tears as they were. Just for a little longer. “I don’t want you to pick between your new life and me, but we both know that, right now, you can’t have both. And when you find your answer, of which you’re going to keep, just be honest with me, so I don’t have to keep getting my heart broken.”

Kate held your gaze for a little while, before leaving your bedroom. You counted her footsteps, cornering your living room towards the entrance, before she opened the door and left your apartment.

Then, when you finally heard the door slam, you set free the ugly sobs that had been trying to crawl up your throat, and cried like you hadn’t done in years.

tagged people: @angel09172000 @fabraykingmyheart

139 notes · View notes

alexthecapri · 3 years ago

Text

I'M CALLING YOU - kate bishop x gn! reader

author’s note: unrelated, but i have a gigantic crush on kate bishop, and i think we’d be great girlfriends.

alternative title: stop calling and show up.

:. 705 words, PART TWO

You heard the telltale sound of the line disconnecting, but still couldn’t drag the phone away from your ear.

Kate had just told you what she had been up to during the last weekend, when she couldn’t see you because she was halfway across the country.

It didn’t hurt, at first. The rain checks for the only days you could spend together, Saturday and Sunday, were taken in stride. She was pursuing her dream, and you couldn’t be happier for her. Truly.

But as time went by, she relied so heavily on your support that Kate didn’t even apologize anymore. She called only to let you know, and not to ask.

And it was alright, considering it was her life. She shouldn’t have to ask for your permission to make plans.

But you stopped being a part of them a little too quickly, and you couldn’t help but grasp at the memory of her joking around, saying that you’d share an apartment and adopt two cats by the time you had your degrees.

Now she stopped university altogether, and you were two months away from graduation.

No plans of moving in sight and probably catless for the near future. And Fridays became very bitter days, bringing with it anxiety over what would happen this weekend. Hoping against hope that she’d suddenly miss you.

You cradled the phone against your chest, curling your legs even tighter against yourself and burrowing deeper into the couch.

So much you had wanted to say, to share.

But she was busy.

Before, Kate knew how to draw you out. She knew you had difficulty sharing, but she only needed to give you one look to get you to talk. She made you feel that comfortable, so much so that you rarely ever second guessed anything around her.

Kate could only offer you superficial concern now. A random “how’s uni?” followed by either a “you’re way too smart for me”, if you shared good news, or a “I know you’ll figure it out in no time” if they were bad.

More than needing her help, you needed your girlfriend back. The one who you’d take on spontaneous dates, and who would surprise you with pizza any night of the week she knew you were free. Who cooked terribly, but knew how to pick good drinks. A girl that made your heart race, instead of making it sink and disappear back into your body.

Who didn’t make you feel ashamed of needing her love as much as you did, and who didn’t make you feel as if you were the only one left in the relationship.

You hadn’t seen Kate in over two months, and she hadn’t even noticed. Let it slip, once, about how she’d make it up to you for canceling at the last minute, because something came up, but that she was glad she at least got to see you last weekend. By then, she hadn’t seen you in three weeks.

And it hurt to become someone taken for granted, someone she didn’t worry over losing. At first it felt good, to be that source of comfort for her, deeply ingrained in her routine and never a setback, but as you’ve come to learn, time gives space for change, and not all of them are good.

Such as feeling as if you’re disposable, as if the moment you stop picking up her phone calls, she won’t even notice. Not for a while, at least. And then she’ll question you, and you’ll tell her how you feel, and she’ll say it’s nothing like that. That she still loves you, she’s just… busy.

Busy making a life you have no part in.

You’ve never had it happen to you before, just as you’ve never loved someone as much as you do her, but times are tough and you find yourself with no one to turn to. Parents trying to meet end-of-the-semester quotas, friends rushing through the last weeks until the completion of their degrees, classmates drowning in assignments and final terms. And your girlfriend out there, fighting crime.

Something dripped on your hand, and you noticed you were crying.

Guess you’d just have to hold on until the next phone call.

151 notes · View notes