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anotherhomelanderblog · 7 days ago

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The Real Heroes (Homelander x Reader)

Your life as a middle school teacher is interrupted by the leader of the Seven.

No major warnings other than Homelander being Homelander.

You do not have time for an assembly today. You have a printer to fight.

“Print, you son of a bitch,” You growl, petulantly kicking the ancient machine. “This is your one job!”

The printer hisses at you in reply. Jackson, your longtime companion through the middle school teaching trenches, shakes his head at your antics. He stands at the lounge door with his coffee in one hand and your usual order in the other. “Why bother? The assembly will take up two class periods.”

You groan and throw your head back, silently cursing your principal’s heart. He emailed you all last night about the surprise assembly with SASS - “Supes and Students Succeed.” It was Vought’s latest attempt to demonstrate its support for education. It was surely a coincidence that SASS launched just weeks after Vought faced a million-dollar lawsuit. A kid in DC ran in front of a metro car to prove they were the next A-Train. He wasn’t. The kid miraculously survived, but was entombed in a body cast for the foreseeable future. His parents now had pockets lined with cash, and Vought had a cute little presentation about the importance of completing one's education—and not jumping in front of trains. The best heroes were the educated heroes, they said. Meanwhile, these little assemblies were just taking away valuable class time.

State testing was around the corner. You didn’t have time to whisk your kids away to a presentation where only a quarter of them would pay attention—and even those kids were only following along in the hopes that a superhero would make a cameo. A local hero was known to make appearances in these programs around the country; even members of the Seven were known to show up, though very rarely. The chances of that happening in your school, a place where affording working appliances was a challenge, came close to zero. You didn’t care what celebrity tried to teach your students to stop auditioning to be supes when they lacked any powers. You cared about them passing their exams. You had hoped that printing worksheets for your students to work on during the assembly - God knows they would be bored - was the best way to make up for lost classroom time. Regrettably, the printer was not on your side.

“It’s a nice break, at least?” Jackson offers a shrug. “Just babysitting for two hours.”

“I did not get a master’s degree to babysit.” You murmur, and give the printer another feeble kick. It hisses at you again.

“Come on, grumpy.” Jackson hands you your cup and spins on his heel for the hallway. “Bell’s about to ring.”

You and Jackson navigate the halls among the small sea of students headed for the auditorium. Every student in the school was required to come to this assembly. You didn’t know if it was a yearly mandate or if Vought had slipped your principal a few extra dollars, but this happened annually. On a random school day in the spring, usually a Monday, SASS would take two class periods and deliver its spiel to the students. Finish high school. Go to college. Don’t jump in front of trains. As you and Jackson found a post on the right side of the auditorium, backs to the wall as your students filled in the seats, you wondered if Vought realized how much of a joke this whole thing was. You’re brought out of your thoughts by a student calling your name. You look up and see Sam, one of your seventh graders, waving at you as she sits close to your post. She’s a class clown to be sure, but one of the few you’ve met with actual charm. She grins when you lock eyes. “You ready to be SASSy?”

You snort and hold your cup out towards her in a toast. “You don’t need more SASS, Sam.”

She gasps in mock offense. “SASS is critical to my education! It is my honor and privilege to SASS.”

You arch a brow with a playful smirk. “Your report card agrees.”

Sam gasps again, and her friends laugh. You can’t help but smile. Damn it. Even in a mood plagued by incompetent administration, socially unaware conglomerates, and shitty machinery, your students could make you feel lighter.

Unfortunately, the assembly had to begin. The curtains open to reveal a woman in a blue pantsuit named Tracey. Or Trixie. The microphones in your auditorium were not the finest, either. After a brief introduction and welcome, she immediately begins the standard speech about how much Vought appreciates and loves its students nationwide. They see the futures of America in this very room. She presents slides showing the statistics of salaries at Vought in comparison to degrees, and how critical it is that every youth in this school pursues their dreams by pursuing those diplomas. It is boring as sin.

“Take a shot every time she says ‘success,’” Jackson mumbles to you.

“Double them when she says ‘we’, like they’re in on the fun,” You mumble back.

The students, bless them, pretend to pay attention. You have to tell a student or two to put their phones away, and you glare at Sam more than once for whispering to her friends, but for the most part, the youth are taking this opportunity to rest. You don’t have the heart to wake up those who have completely fallen asleep. If these assemblies were around when you were a kid, you might have done the same thing.

“Now, I know what you’re probably thinking,” Nancy says, her voice unbearably theatrical. “Who is this lady, and what does she have to do with our success?”

“Another shot,” You murmur.

“Well, we’ve heard you loud and clear-”

“One more.”

“And we think a friendlier face might help you out,” Nancy looks off stage, and her plastic grin stretches even further. It looks painful. “Are you ready to meet him?”

A few students lean forward, and you take a sip of your drink. Your principal’s e-mail hadn’t mentioned any local heroes, so it couldn’t be someone of much importance. Some vice president at Vought, maybe? A supe who didn’t make it in life to show your students an example of tragic hubris? You’re still debating who it could be when said guest walks on stage - and you nearly choke on your drink.

It’s the Homelander.

The auditorium goes insane. The children are screaming, some jumping in their seats. The adults aren’t doing much better. Some are dumbstruck, while most others are as excited as the kids. The Homelander, the leader of the Seven and the most powerful supe in existence, stands in the center of your shitty auditorium stage. He’s laughing and holding his arms out wide, playfully asking for the cheers to stop and sporadically waving to people around the room. He is somehow entirely in his element while being completely outside of it.

“That can’t be him,” You whisper to Jackson. “That…it’s a performer, right?”

“No, dude. That’s him,” Jackson stares wide-eyed at the stage, unaware his coffee has tilted enough to spill onto the floor. “There’s only one man on Earth with eyes that sky blue.”

You don’t have the brainpower to question how Jackson is so familiar with Homelander’s eye color. All you do is watch in shock as the hero quiets the crowd with a simple wave of his hand. The students all sit, and the teachers are calm. Some are still whispering to each other in amazement, but even those quiet sounds stop when Homelander speaks to the crowd at large. His voice booms without the need for a microphone.

“Good morning, gang!” He greets. Even from your far post to the right, you see the pearlescent glow of his teeth. “So good to see you all! You know, when Vought asked me to come along on some of these SASS assemblies, I wasn’t so sure. What could I teach you that your teachers don’t already, right? But seeing you all…it just really makes it worth it.”

You can feel the room buzzing with excitement. Homelander - the Homelander - is at your school. This surprise is going to be the talk of the town for the next month, at the very least. You wish you could gasp and admire like everyone else, but something about the way he presents himself prickles at your senses. He seems very aware that he hypnotizes everyone, and he loves it. You get the feeling he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying, but he’s happy to swallow the praise it gives him. He’s living up to your long-held belief that Vought sees children as nothing more than another cash grab. You shudder to think how many Homelander shirts you’ll see in the hallways for the coming weeks.

“I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that I see plenty of heroes in the room tonight,” Homelander begins to stroll back and forth across the stage. He’s good at what he does, moving his eyes around the room so everyone can feel as if maybe, just maybe, he’s talking to them. “I see doctors, lawyers…maybe even see some future teammates. What do you think of that, huh?”

The room goes wild. Once again, Homelander calms them with a simple raised hand. You've got to admire that classroom management. He could teach your new teachers a thing or two. He stops on the stage opposite from your side and claps his hands together with a dramatic sigh. “But let’s be clear, people…you can’t get anywhere without a proper education. It kills me to think about how many kids are dropping out. I know it can be tough. Really, I do. But you have to keep trying.”

You just stop yourself from rolling your eyes. If the speech were any more scripted, you would see a teleprompter on the back wall.

“I know what it’s like to want to give up, but you can’t,” Homelander insists with a strong fist to the sky. “The only way you’re going to make it to the top is through hard work.”

“Or being privileged enough to be born with laser vision,” You murmur to Jackson.

Maybe you’re being paranoid. Perhaps it was a trick of the crappy theater lights. But for a moment, so quick you nearly miss it, Homelander turns and stares directly at you. In that split second, your stomach drops to your feet. Your mind flashes to the latest Vought movie you saw in theaters. There was a scene where an up-and-coming supe talks to his friend about Homelander’s superior senses, how he can see through walls and smell a rat a state away - or hear a singular whisper in a noisy crowd. As quickly as you feel seen, however, he looks away and continues his speech. He rambles on about “success” and “we” and “SASS,” but it becomes a ringing in your ears. That hadn’t happened, right? He didn’t hear you.

“In fact,” Homelander says from a segue you were too mortified to comprehend, “How about I have a student come up here?”

Every hand in the room shoots up, even the students you have to torture to get to participate in class on a typical day. Homelander scans the room with that trademark grin, and then finally settles on someone just to your right. “You. Yes, you, the young lady with the green shirt.”

Sam. She jumps up from her seat, beaming at her squealing friends as she navigates her way through the aisle. She grins at you and Jackson before making her way up the stage. It’s only when she’s officially on the same level as Homelander that a rare bashfulness takes over. Her shoulders tighten, and you’re suddenly aware of how small a 12-year-old is. She looks so very breakable as she steps next to Homelander. Your grip on your cup tightens as a confusing flash of protectiveness rises in your chest.

“Hey there, miss,” He greets, holding out a gloved hand to her. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sam,” She whispers shakily as she holds out her hand to him.

“Short for Samantha?” Homelander asks, and she eagerly nods her head. He chuckles and releases her hand. “Beautiful name. Sam, what grade are you in?”

She clears her throat, but it does nothing to disguise the timid squeak of her voice. “Seventh.”

“Oh, wow. Great grade. I remember loving that year,” Homelander tilts his head, his hands falling to his hips. “I’m gonna ask you a question, Sam. Is that alright?”

Sam nods quickly, but doesn’t speak. His grin widens in amusement. “Sam, one of the most important things SASS does is honor our teachers. Teachers are the real heroes of our country. Right?”

Another nervous nod.

“So, I need a favor, Sam,” Homelander gestures out to the audience. “Who’s your favorite teacher out here? Who’s someone that’s really helped you out to be your best SASSy self?”

She barely deliberates for a moment. To you, it happens in slow motion. She says your name and points at you. Homelander’s eyes find you immediately. Jackson was right; that sky blue shade could only belong to him. The hero looks surprised for a moment, as if he didn’t expect Sam to have such a quick answer - or didn’t expect it to be you. Then, he says your name as if he’s known it all along and holds out a hand. “Why don’t you come on up here?”

The room was loud when Sam was called up, but it’s an explosion for you. Your students cheer like you’ve won the lottery. Jackson starts clapping beside you, his coffee cup nowhere to be seen. Your limbs are jelly. You stare up at the stage and momentarily debate running out the door, starting a new career in another country. Then, Homelander laughs. “C’mon, don’t be shy! Give me the privilege of meeting you.”

He had heard you.

Your hands are shaking as you hobble towards the stage and up the small set of stairs. To keep yourself from having an episode, you focus on Sam. She is grinning from ear to ear. When you get close enough, she hugs you. You’re only half aware of hugging her back, and then letting go to look at Homelander. He’s not as tall as you imagined, and there are more lines on his face than you’ve seen in the movies - but he’s gorgeous in an unsettling way. His face is a series of perfect angles, his hair perfectly luminous under the stage lights - and those eyes. They belong less to a man and more to a snake curling itself around prey. You once again restrain the urge to flee. Homelander repeats your name and holds out his hand. Instinctively, you reach out to shake it. His long fingers curl around yours and squeeze. You’re well aware this man is capable of juggling monster trucks, but the squeeze is so gentle. He holds your hand like it’s made of porcelain, and his release of it is far too slow.

Homelander repeats your name as he looks back out at the audience. “So, let’s hear more from the teachers who know what SASS is all about.” He looks back at you so quickly that you almost jump. “What can our students here do to become future heroes?”

You had nearly forgotten you’re on a stage in front of the entire school. You swallow heavily and clear your throat to keep your voice from sounding like a mouse. “They…they can remember that they have their teachers to rely on. We’re here to help them be the best that they can be. And don’t forget to read. Or do their homework.”

There are some laughs from your students. It keeps you from cringing at your own cheesy words. Homelander moves to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You’re shocked at the warmth that radiates from him. He smells clean and fresh, like linen drying under a spring sky. His hold is still shockingly gentle. “And what can Vought do for teachers?” He asks, this time looking at you. From this close, there’s something about his grin that seems to challenge you.

You stare, unblinking. “A new printer would be nice.”

Your coworkers reward you with laughter and loud clapping. The camaraderie brings you some ease from the way Homelander is staring at you. There is something about the stare that seems to see past you, past your skin, to something you aren’t aware of. You know he has X-ray vision, but you don’t think he’s analyzing your rib cage. What does he see, and why do you get the horrible feeling it’s pissing him off?

Finally, he laughs and uncurls his arm from you. “Well, I’m sure we have the budget for that,” He teases, and claps your back. If you were a weaker person, the clap would have made you stumble forward. Luckily, you keep your balance. You swear his eye twitches. “Let’s give another round of applause for them, huh?”

It all becomes a blur after that. Homelander announces your and Sam’s names again, and thanks you both for “helping SASS with its mission.” You notice he barely looks at Sam as he gives this goodbye. He switches from looking out at the audience to looking at you, his gaze trailing your form in a move too obvious to miss. You manage to follow Sam back down the stairs and answer her whispered comments of awe with nods and vague hums. You watch as she sits back with her friends and giggles excitedly with them. Jackson tries to talk to you, at some point asks you what cologne Homelander smells like - you’ll have to check in with him on this secret Homelander obsession later - but your mind is elsewhere. Homelander is making his goodbyes. He’s thanking the school for having him and reminding everyone about how much he values education, students, and teachers. You don’t hear the end. When everyone is back to looking at him, you sneak your way out of the auditorium.

The day passes in a haze. You don’t go to the teacher’s lounge for lunch. You don’t monitor the hallways the way you usually would. You hide in your classroom, grading papers and crafting lessons and doing everything in your power to not think about that assembly. When you have classes in the afternoon, you focus on your lecture. Your students try to ask you about him, but you silence those questions immediately. Luckily, your teacher glare is only slightly less unsettling than his stare. You manage to make it to the end of the day without hearing about him. Jackson checks in and asks if you need a ride home, but you quickly decline your friend's offer. You’re going to work late tonight. You’ll need to condense two days of lessons into one for the classes that had the assembly.

When you finally journey out of your classroom to go to the lounge, you’re alone. There may still be some teachers lingering around the building, but it’s well past the time when any students with afterschool clubs or sports would be here. The school is big enough that even if you have company, you feel alone. You feel safe. This time, when you try to print your papers, it’s successful. The printer takes pity on you and prints all of your worksheets without a problem.

“If this is your attempt at a truce, I’ll allow it,” You mutter to the machine. “We’ll see about tomorrow.”

The printer beeps.

After tucking the worksheets into your backpack, you make your way to the school parking lot. Your keys are in your hand as you open the door to the cool outside air. The sun is just beginning to set, tinting the sky red. The color is dull behind the Homelander’s cape. You know this because he is standing on the sidewalk in front of you, hands folded behind him. You briefly wonder if you have finally lost it and have begun to hallucinate. Then, he speaks. “Who were you talking to?”

You blink as you try to make sense of…anything. When Homelander’s brow furrows at your silence, you manage a reply. “The printer.” Your voice sounds a lot higher than usual.

Homelander blinks back at you, and then huffs a laugh. It’s a much harsher sound compared to the chuckles he was making on stage. “Do you only talk about printers?”

Your fingers tighten around your keys, and his eyes follow the movement. You manage to shrug your shoulders. “When your work revolves around them working, they come up a lot.”

“Well, that thing reeks of ink,” He says, nodding to your bag. “So, it worked?”

You nod. “Yes. It’s survived another day of me not killing it.”

There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes that looks far more genuine than anything he saw on stage. He saunters forward a bit, hands still clasped behind him. “So what’s your deal, huh? Why do these kids really like you?”

Something in his tone seems annoyed. If he weren’t the world’s most famous superhero, you would think it was jealousy. You shrug your shoulders. “I…I’m not sure. I guess I’m honest with them.”

He frowns, unimpressed. “Honest.”

“Yes?”

“You think these brats like you just because you’re honest with them?”

Another flare of protective instincts. “You’d be surprised how rare that is for kids.”

Homelander is silent for a long moment, watching you like you’re a puzzle missing one more piece. You drum your fingers against your keys. There’s a silent implication that you’re not supposed to leave. He’s even managed to angle himself so you can’t see your car, and you decline to wonder if that’s intentional. Instead, you offer a question. “Why’re you here?”

His frown now looks insulted. “Excuse me?”

“I mean…I assume Vought has left,” You say for quick damage control, gesturing to the nearly empty parking lot. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment. Then, he takes another few steps closer to you. He is just short of your personal space. “You know what happened when I walked on stage? Those kids lost their minds. Their hearts were pounding like a bunch of little rabbits. But you know what happened when they saw you?”

You slowly shake your head as you try to convince yourself his tone hasn’t become menacing. He grins, and it is all sharp teeth.

“Their scrawny little hearts beat faster. Most of their pupils fucking dilated. And the smell…” His nose wrinkles in disgust. He’s close enough now that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his piercing gaze. “They adore you. And I just want to know why those jars of snot love a teacher they see every day more than they love me.”

You’re at a loss for words, but he’s looking at you like he expects an answer. You loosen your hands on your keys. If you’re about to be ripped in half by a supe whose reputation is a farce, you may as well be truthful. “Because I care about those jars of snot. And because they know that SASS is a bunch of horseshit.”

He scoffs. “You think you know better than Vought?”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I do.”

He’s been silent for so long that you fear he may have glitched. You wonder if you’re about to be lasered in half in a middle school parking lot. Then, finally, he chuckles - and it’s back to that fake laughter you heard in the auditorium. “Well, they sure make teachers feistier than they did when I was a kid.”

You say nothing, your gaze tracking his every movement as he steps away from the shade of the school building. The setting sun reflects off his hair as he winks at you. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, teach. I’ll see you soon.”

Then, with a casual wave of his hands, he launches into the night air. You shield your eyes from the onslaught of wind and dirt. By the time you remove your arm, he’s gone. You stare up at the sky, your keys lightly shaking in your hand.

~-~

The next day, you walk into the teacher’s lounge to find a brand new printer. A quick Internet search reveals it to be the most state-of-the-art and expensive printer available to the public. Your principal casually mentions that it came from an unnamed donor. The note written on printer paper, which you find on your desk, makes it less anonymous.

More to come. - Homelander

#homelander x reader #fanfic #ahhhh i feel so spoilt with all the fics you're writing!#i love this he's so menacing in it

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anotherhomelanderblog · 8 days ago

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One of the many fun things being normal about Homelander makes you aware of is the way his roots darken and lighten across the show (are we meant to assume people ever believed he was a natural blond? With those dark brows?). Obviously, it just coincides with whenever they've decided Antony needed a top up his poor poor scalp, but I really like how it fits the theme of Homelander constantly trying to project this perfect, stylised image of himself while the darker (heh) truth of who he is is always threatening to peep through.

Also, his roots seem especially prominent at the start of S3 - in my memory, at least. He's at a low ebb at that point, so I kinda associate him letting his roots go with that depressiveness too. I mean, as a brunette who has experience going fully blonde and slowly watching the dark roots creep back in, I can confirm it does give you an Ugh sort of feeling. Totally fits with how low he was because he'd been muzzled by Stan etc.

#i know homelander was blond as a child but like most blond kids became a brunet in puberty #this is all just very random late night waffle #also shout out to the bleached blonde with dark brows combo #but ALSO shout out to antony being that lovely combo of brown haired and blue eyed #if homie actually went natural for once can you imagine how much more intense his eyes would be 😂 a health hazard #not that his eyes aren't already very much a serious health hazard!#homelander

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anotherhomelanderblog · 9 days ago

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Um... deep offseason -> me writing Homelander x OMC fic, apparently. In my defense, the OMC here is Homelander's twin, so it's not really a reader insert or anything (not that there's anything wrong with that, just usually not my MO). I don't know either.

Pairing: Homelander twincest

Summary: Homelander learns that he's got a non-super twin/clone living an unremarkable life somewhere out there. Homelander quickly grows obsessed with that unremarkable life.

A/N: one of the strong inspirations to write this fic were these @olliveolly 's art pieces . Mind you, their AU has a completely different plot-- this was just where my brain led me when I saw those images.

Wildtype. noun. The phenotype of the typical form of a species as it occurs in nature. It represents the standard or norm for that species' genetic makeup and characteristics.

AO3 link, part 1 of 2.

What he's doing is absolute madness, Homelander thinks as he hovers in the air, peering down through the cheap thin aluminum roof of the mobile home. There's no reason for him to be visiting here, and no good can come of it.

Homelander's not sure what he was expecting.

***

After Homelander took over Vought, he became privy to all the top secret files the company stowed away. He didn’t hesitate to look up anything and everything about his past, and there was plenty to sift through. When he learned about just how many clones were made of the same genetic material, he felt instant revulsion. They had named them unimaginatively, alphabetically–Adam, Brian, Chris,… – and John found it oh-so-surreal to think of himself as the tenth in a series of eighteen. Clearly they didn't die in alphabetical order. The knowledge that he was one of eighteen infants with the same DNA carried to term by different surrogates– that he was the only one who survived all the testing and fiddling Vought scientists had done– made him sick, made him have nightmares for the first few nights after learning these sordid facts.

But his revulsion slowly faded and gave way to indifference. In some ways, it began to feel no more or less disturbing than the knowledge that he was the product of the one successful spermatid who made it all the way to goal first while tens of millions of its brethren died or got lost along the way. If Homelander really thought about it, he even felt a sense of elation and pride about his origins. There was something exceptional about him after all, if he was the sole survivor. Vought scientists may have engineered his DNA, and consistently taken all the credit for his remarkable existence, but clearly there was something special about him in particular. Even if it was pure dumb luck that he managed to survive what other copies didn't, he felt good about it.

He did not feel good about his next big discovery about these clone copies after more idle browsing through the files. It turned out that they had set one copy aside, didn't expose him to Compound V in vitro or in utero, and didn't put him through any of the tests and tortures afterwards. That was the control specimen, a comparator to see how the clones would have developed without interference.

Vought scientists kept the comparator alive even after Homelander was the only clone left standing. Homelander scans meeting notes that summarize a discussion of what to do with the comparator now that they'd settled on their winning specimen. The paper trail gets fuzzier, and Homelander recruits a couple of his favorite people from Vought Analytics to scrounge up information, not caring about breaking protocol and opening files up to people without the highest levels of clearance. He's desperate to know what became of his last twin. Anika manages to decipher that the twin wasn't destroyed, but was dropped off into a group home when he was five. Homelander catches himself deploring the fact that a genetic copy of him might still be out there somewhere, alive. He thinks it's unlikely. If there was someone out there who looked just like him, wouldn't they have come forward by now?

Anika uses Vought's access to government agency files to trace 'Adam' through the system. It grates on Homelander's nerves that this clone was named first. It starts to feel like he's the clean original, and Homelander is one of a bunch of sloppy carbon copies. It grates on his nerves even more when Anika discovers he was adopted at six years old. Homelander is surprised at how much jealousy instantly wells up in him about something that happened so long ago, but he can't help it when he thinks about how his life in the lab was getting much worse, just as his twin apparently got to enjoy a loving family. Homelander's imagination runs away, and suddenly he's no longer sure he doesn't have a doppelganger out there, living his best life, a wife, kids, a normal job, somehow oblivious to the fact that he resembles a well-known celebrity.

But no, Homelander's idyllic vision of his twin's charmed life is very unlikely. Anika does not lose track of him. He's returned into the group home less than a year later. Homelander questions why, and only notices how angry and impatient he sounds when he sees Anika's frightened face. She shakes her head, saying there don't seem to be any notes other than 'not a good match.' And Homelander goes from feeling jealousy to feeling intense righteous indignation on his twin's behalf. Who the fuck were these people who rejected him? Homelander has half a mind to look up where they live and burn their house to the ground. Anika looks them up without having heard Homelander's reasons for doing so– the couple who adopted Adam were on the older side, the husband died of cancer a few years ago, and the wife is in a nursing home with dementia. Good riddance then, Homelander thinks, and doesn't ask for the address. He wouldn't burn down an entire nursing home for one heartless, now mindless resident.

Anika continues her research through non-Vought sources. Adam attended school. Did not seem to be a remarkable student, but had been mentioned being on the honor roll once in seventh grade in the local paper. The only other mention of his name among searchable records is his participating in a school fundraiser in 1995. There's a photo of a group of high school freshmen standing behind their bake sale table, with a caption that includes his twin's name. Homelander squints at the grainy picture– his eyesight doesn't help zoom in because all he sees are big printer dots- but he can still see a teenager wearing his face, a mop of dark hair, and a goofy smile, complete with braces. At least the group home took care of his medical needs, Homelander thinks to himself, but can't help press his tongue against his slightly crooked front tooth, an imperfection they tried and were unable to fix in the lab.

Adam enlisted in the army right after graduating, didn't seem particularly ambitious or career-oriented while there, was part of Ground Forces the whole time, was still an infantryman three years in when he was deployed to Iraq. He came back from the Middle East after just a year and changed to being in reserves until the age of 26, never went back into the military, worked as a mechanic, a roofer, a construction worker at various times, moving around between Texas, Florida, and most recently Arizona.

"Does he have a family or something?" Homelander asks, and even though he was so jealous at the mere idea of having a twin who would be living a normal life he never got to enjoy, now he finds himself invested, really hoping to hear that his doppelganger is doing well, that his life is satisfying in the way Homelander imagines ordinary people must find their lives satisfying, because of no aspirations for fame, power, or anything beyond mediocrity.

"I can't see any records of anyone living with him," Anika replies. "Doesn't mean he's living alone, but no one's ever seemed to register at the same address."

"What is his current address anyway," Homelander asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but he’s anxious. Once he has this knowledge, it will gnaw at him. He'll be curious, he'll be tempted to get a look, and once he does, he might become obsessed and want to talk. He probably shouldn't even ask for the address.

"He doesn't have an exact address… lives in… 35502 Squaw Valley Rd but there's a bunch of houses with that address. Looks like some kind of community? Yeah, Squaw Valley Mobile Home Park."

"What the fuck," Homelander mutters under his breath. "Who names these places."

*** Homelander doesn't go to visit the address. He has no desire to see what his twin is up to, after having heard that he's essentially trailer trash. There's clearly nothing interesting to see there, and it actually galls Homelander to know that someone with similar genetic material is walking around out there living such an unfortunate life.

But of course he's haunted by thoughts of the entire thing. He thinks back to his lab days, tries to remember if he's ever seen any other child in the lab. His memory plays tricks on him and he starts to wonder whether he really has seen someone else there. Maybe someone else who looked just like him. What if it wasn't just an inner voice that he remembers talking to him when he'd be left alone in the bad room? What if he'd seen this twin before he could form completely coherent memories, and reconstructed him out of his imagination? He doesn't like any of these thoughts, and he dares not confer with the mirror about it. It's very unlikely that the Vought scientists would have ever let them cross paths, so he puts it out of his mind.

Or at least he tries to get all the thoughts out of his mind, and can't, and feels a mounting sense of curiosity and dread. He knows his resolve not to at least take a peek won't last.

***

What he's doing is absolute madness, Homelander thinks as he hovers in the air, peering down, through the cheap thin aluminum roof of the mobile home. There's no reason for him to be visiting here, and no good can come of it.

He watches the man inside, sitting on a ratty couch, feet propped up on a cheap coffee table, eating what looks like meatloaf and mac and cheese straight out of a plastic microwave meal container. 'Adam' is only half paying attention to the TV, playing whatever drivel is airing on ESPN right now. At least he can afford cable. Or satellite, Homelander corrects himself when he sees the small dish affixed to the house.

Homelander's not sure why he mentally pronounces his twin's name with sarcasm. Maybe because it feels hollow, to have been named alphabetically. He feels no attachment to his own name. It's a throwaway– even more of a throwaway than he suspected. But Adam hasn't known any other name, and probably has no clue about why and how it was given. Homelander can't judge him for using it.

Homelander continues watching him. Adam undeniably looks like him– he even lightens his hair to blond, although it's a harsh peroxide treatment, almost platinum, and his hair is dry and damaged. Homelander wonders if he's aware of his identity after all, leaning into being a celebrity lookalike, but for some reason choosing not to come forward and sue Vought for all they're worth. Or maybe someone at Vought has already paid him off to foolishly sign an NDA for such a low sum of money that they didn't bother making an incriminating record of it in any of the files Homelander has browsed through? And once again Homelander feels a strange twinge of sympathy on his twin's behalf. I should help him get more money out of the bastards, he thinks to himself, before remembering 'the Vought bastards' very much include himself nowadays.

Adam's missing an eye, has a patch over it, and Homelander can see that inside it's healed in such a way that won't allow a prosthetic eye inside. How careless. Probably something that happened in Iraq, although Anika hadn't mentioned anything about an injury– and his enlistment photo portrait still had both eyes. Hopefully this sap got a hefty lump of money from the government for that too. Maybe that's the reason the guy never started a family. He could have passed for a movie actor, but Homelander can't imagine walking around with an eyepatch gets you job interviews or dates.

Homelander's not sure about what he was expecting. He wants to leave and return to New York as quickly as he can travel, and dismiss the entire thing as a waste of time, but it's like he's hypnotized, rooted in place to see what his clone does next. He watches Adam flick through some messages on his phone, turn off the TV and get up, pulling on a bomber jacket and grabbing a helmet and a cigarette.

Of course he rides a motorcycle and smokes, Homelander sighs and rolls his eyes, but can't help and keep staring. In some ways, Homelander admires how brave normies are, given how easily their bodies tear and shatter from the smallest of impacts, and how easily they'll get cancer from the mildest of exposures.

He lands gingerly on the roof, intent on not being heard or seen when Adam goes outside. Adam pauses, straddling the bike and typing something into his phone, helmet held under one arm, cigarette dangling precariously out of his mouth. And in some ways, Homelander admires him. No matter how little Homelander thinks of this lifestyle, Adam has an effortlessness, a carelessness about him that Homelander could only aspire to, and he's a good-looking guy, in Homelander's biased estimation. Maybe, strangely, better looking than Homelander because the eyepatch only adds a rough flair. Maybe it's his job as a mechanic or whatever the hell he does for a living, but his body is built up nicely too– Homelander would not want to stand naked side by side and compare visuals.

Adam finishes whatever text he was sending– Homelander didn't even bother to peek because he was busy examining him– and starts the motorcycle and speeds off. Homelander lifts slowly and goes all the way up into the stratosphere to follow, because Arizona is mostly desert, and he'd easily be seen in his recognizable uniform if he stayed anywhere below where commercial flights fly. He drifts through the thin cold air, watching his quarry travel down the highway, and even though he's going above speed limit, it still takes about an hour to get into Phoenix proper. Homelander starts descending downward once the sun sets, no longer as concerned about being spotted, and watches his clone park near what looks like some hole in the wall bar. Homelander peers through the roof, catching himself hoping that Adam is here to meet someone on a date– it's not clear to Homelander why he's so invested, but something about someone genetically identical to him living a sad bachelor life offends him. It's one thing for Homelander to still be single– his life is complicated by his job and the types of people he's surrounded by that he's tried to woo. But what else does this man have going for him if not at least a love life at this age?

Homelander's so lost in these thoughts that he barely registers Adam sitting down at the bar and talking to another man seated beside him. He's still puzzled when he watches both men get up after a few minutes and head towards the men's room. It's not until they enter the same stall that Homelander finally comprehends what this is, breath hitching, heart pounding, and he finally tears his eyes away for a moment, too disturbed to believe what he's seeing, and scanning the whole dive bar to suddenly realize there are are no women here except one of the bartenders, and she turns out to be trans upon closer inspection. Homelander doesn't even want to listen in, his own heartbeat is pounding in his ears when he glances back and sees that Adam is leaning back against the stall wall while his partner is on his knees sucking him off. At least he's the one being sucked off, Homelander tries to look on the bright side, but even that thought turns out to be misguided when he sees them switch off a few minutes later.

Homelander's had enough and zooms off back to New York, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust. For a moment he wonders if this means that, left to his own devices with no interference, this would be him too, but he brushes the thought away. He likes women. Has ever since the lab. Or at least ever since someone explained the difference to him as a child. It's some nonsense his twin picked up in the army or later. He's a good looking, fit guy and maybe someone took advantage of him really early on… Homelander is half tempted to put Anika on the case again to try to figure out where things went wrong, but realizes it's a very bad idea. No one needs to know about his twin. No one at all, and he himself should forget that he ever saw any of this. This trip to Arizona never happened, as far as he's concerned.

#homelander twincest #fanfic #oh my godddddd #of course homelander would do this in such a situation #i like him cannot look away either 👀

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anotherhomelanderblog · 9 days ago

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A small GIF collection of Homelander looking absolutely perturbed at Vogelbaum in the courtroom. The face he makes when he turns to make eye contact with Vogelbaum gives me life, a genuine baby boy.

#😭😭😭

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anotherhomelanderblog · 10 days ago

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I think I have a nice sketch. What if the Homelander gains a few extra pounds (probably possible?) because of your delicious cooking. Maybe he has an eating disorder and your cooking is the only thing that makes him hungry (because it's made with love for him). And how can he deny himself that pleasure? Especially if it's breakfast, lunch and dinner together! Like a real couple!But one day he feels the belt is too tight.... he fastens it, but it digs into his stomach😂 How sad the Homelander will be. Surely he always stays about the same weight class, and here your love of cooking and his resulting appetite has caused him to get fat. God how he will be hysterical😅 because on the one hand you spoil him a lot and cook for him! And on the other hand he has to be perfect and he won't go asking for a new suit! He'll have to be calmed down🥺💙 he'll probably overreact to it. You'll have to hug him and tell him that it's possible to get rid of the extra weight and you'll find him lower calorie foods.

This is an interesting one. I do have thoughts about Homelander and food.

First of all, I'm not 100% sure this scenario could happen - at least if he has his powers. I mean, we know V doesn't preclude supes from gaining (and presumably also losing) what amounts to an unhealthy amount of weight for their particular body because we've got the example of A-Train. I mean, let's not pretend A-Train was becoming dangerously overweight - or that Homelander didn't just pick on him over that to feel better about the way Stan Edgar was treating him - but it proves it's at least possible for supes to put on weight they don't need.

Homelander is a special case though, because he always is. ✨ Is it possible for him to become physically over or underweight? I assume they might have tested this in the lab. I could see his body somehow figuring out how to burn off or otherwise deal with excess calories without this causing any physical problems for him, but what if he was starved? I feel like it'd be harder for his body - even being as suped up as it is - to compensate there. I bet he can go without food for longer than the average person, but surely not indefinitely?

(Also, the body horror factor of him starving to death internally and feeling the effects of that while he still looks absolutely fine outwardly - still the perfect shiny little product that Vought ordered - is horrifying but feels thematically fitting for him.)

Anyway, sorry. That's not what your ask is about. 😂

Basically, I don't know if he would put on weight if he suddenly started eating more because you're cooking for him. I do think his eating habits are probably very odd and would be unhealthy if he wasn't who he is - though I don't think I'd call it an eating disorder. I think food has just never particularly interested him since he just views it as fuel. As you point out, he has never had someone make him food lovingly. There are no positive emotions or memories attached to the ritual of eating for him.

We know he likes milk and milkshakes 😂 and I'm sure he must eat, but I'm thinking about Mallory's comment to Ryan about how she hoped he'd been eating some vegetables at the tower and not just takeout. I feel like Homelander's diet, like his emotional maturity, is probably stuck in adolescence - aka, he's not eating a regular or balanced diet, but he gets away with it, even in middle age, because his body is built to take it. He never actually had to learn how to eat well. It's not that he has issues with food (though I bet his heightened senses make some of it pretty repugnant), more that it's just... not a massive consideration in his life.

HOWEVER...

You get Homelander depowered? Aside from the million and one other complications that scenario would create for our sad blond man, I reckon food would suddenly become much more of an issue for him than it's ever been before. Now, he would actually get regularly hungry like the rest of us - and he'd feel like shit if he ate too much crap. Can't be living off milkshakes now, boy! You're 44! He'd essentially have to learn how to eat all over again - find out what works for him and what doesn't, what portion size is healthy, etc. His metabolism would slow down to what it should actually be now, and that's how I could see him putting on weight.

And yeah, I agree he's not gonna be happy about this. 😂 We know how neurotic he is about his physical appearance, even when he's feeling at his best. This would suckkkk for him, and you'll have to expect to get the initial blame for fattening him up with all this amateur cooking. You've been fucking babying him, making him weak and dependent on you. Is this what you always wanted, huh?

...But, y'know, after he's calmed down from that tantrum and just wants you to comfort him over the fact he's gained a little pouch, I think the most important thing you'd have to do is assure him it doesn't matter as far as the two of you are concerned. I think we can safely infer this man has body image issues concerning his torso already, so I think some serious TLC would be in order before anything else.

He can lose the extra weight, and you can help him (let's face it, if he's depowered he's gonna be pretty helpless with just about everything), but being accepted when he feels less than perfect first is important.

Sorry that this isn't exactly what you asked! Personally, I'm just not sure Homelander could gain weight from overeating a little while he still has his powers. His body gives him so many advantages the rest of us don't have, so why not this? Maybe he can. Maybe he can't. I doubt the show is gonna explore it so we have a canon answer, in any case. 😂

#asks #lizaveta567 #homelander x reader #eating disorder mention #body image issues #starvation #tagging some things just incase so i hope that covers them all!

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