#homelander au

[olliveolly]

Hello people 👋🏼

New art incoming 🥰

Oh, it's been a while since I drew Homelander undercover, retired or running away from his superhero duties.

Most likely in this plot, after an "affair" with Becca Butcher and the realization that he had a child from her, he was so shocked that he sent the whole world to hell and disappeared in some American outback.

And we'll.. he had a great time growing corn?😅

Obviously until Billy Butcher showed up😉

Hope you enjoy ❤️

[sehtoast]

Envy (AU Homelander Meets Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+ | 3.9k. Kidnapping, stalking, domestic fluff, two Homelanders, depowered Homelander, Homelander on Homelander violence, smut if you squint, Benlander | Fic Directory

“I will look for you in every lifetime and love you there.” In another universe, he has everything he could ever want. Yet, there is always something missing. Something he's always wanted.

Inspired by this. Special thank you to @reactornumber04 for pitching it as a Benlander idea, and to whoever is behind that darling anon for sending @blindmagdalena such an awesome concept <3

The world is his throne.

An amalgamation of blood and ash, built atop a mountain of bones of the unworthy.

He is more than a king. He is a god.

He is god.

So why does he feel so goddamn alone?

Why do the hundreds who throw themselves at his feet, begging him to use them to his heart’s content, do nothing to alleviate his pain? Shouldn’t the void be filled?

Shouldn’t the ache have subsided long ago?

He basks in their love, but it isn’t the love he needs. In fact, it only makes him ache more. It reminds him how empty he really is. Reminds him of what he’ll never truly have. Reminds him of each time it ever slipped through his fingers.

He lingers above the clouds to hide his tears. Lets the sun’s warmth wash over him, eyes shut as he lets go. His mind wanders beyond the bounds of his norm. Somehow there is tranquility here despite what goes on below. Despite all that he’s done.

He could get lost up here. Forget everything and everyone and just…

Be.

He lets himself fall.

Further and further…

He feels strange, but he lets it pass.

Further…

The sounds of the world warp, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Further…

When he opens his eyes in preparation to halt himself, he’s… somewhere else. The air doesn’t stink of decay. The skyline of the city is intact. The occasional body floating down the Hudson isn’t there. Vought Tower peeks proudly through the jungle of skyscrapers, and he’s disoriented.

His head pounds as he takes in the sounds. The honking of horns, the hum of machinery and the roar of the subway. All the things he’d done away with in his world flood back into his senses. When the overstimulation fades enough to focus, he finds himself drawn in another direction entirely. It’s as if something calls out for him and only him. It grasps him with an overpowering familiarity around his body and pulls.

He doesn’t even notice the mix of confusion and elation in the faces below.

Homelander floats leisurely, letting the feeling guide him until he’s on the roof of a little home in Queens. The last specks of gold cast from the setting sun graces him as he peers inside. He scans the boxes in the attic first. Each one seems to hold nothing of importance. Old clothes, worthless keepsakes, photo albums, and then…

One catches his eye. Inside rests… his suit?

Homelander blinks in confusion. He’s certainly never gifted one, so how..?

Unless it was a copy, in which case it would be a very good knockoff.

He shakes his head and continues observing, peering through to the next floor. The scent of citrus touches his nose as he scans over the bathroom. Clean and well kept, aside from the chaos of products on the sink countertop. Water droplets coat the inside of the shower.

He moves onto a spare room. Its only purpose seems to be serving as a staging ground for tech work and a few hobbies.

The sight in the next room makes him stop breathing.

There, on the bed, lies a man reading a book. One hand adjusts his glasses. A mop of unruly brown hair rests on his arm, and he can hear the soft snores. Normally, he wouldn’t give a single fuck about something so mundane if not for the fact the man in that bed looked exactly fucking like him.

Some things were different. The knockoff’s hair was fully brown, and certainly wasn’t being kept after the same way his own was. His eyes were an identical blue, but why were they so… soft? Scruff covered his jaw and neck, and there was a tiny, pink scar at his cheekbone, but it was undeniable that this man looked exactly fucking like him, even with other subtle differences.

Homelander watches with wide, focused eyes. Stares at this alternate version of himself in disbelief and fascination.

“Mm,” he hears the other person mumble. “Time is it?”

"It’s uh…” his alternate self speaks. Homelander’s lips part. “About eight.”

They have the same voice.

He looks through the layers of blankets and clothing to check the man’s left hip. He’s stunned at the sight of a birthmark identical to his own.

It’s unmistakable.

The too-real suit. The resemblance. The mark…

That’s him.

But why the fuck is he…

Homelander watches that mop of brown hair finally lift to reveal a young man with the most striking brown eyes he’s ever seen. Something in his gut drops when he sees how the boy looks at this strange version of himself. There’s such warmth, such gentleness in his eyes. He finds that ache renewing in his chest when the pair kiss.

Homelander has had many people try to give him such a look, but their anatomy always betrayed them. Their cortisone was too high, or they would reek of fear. Their hearts would race and their brains would stink of deception.

But not this one…

Whoever this was, he looked at this version of himself with an affection that rang true through his entire body. Heart beat just right, not a waft of fear. Even his other self was reciprocating genuinely.

What the hell is this?

He watches the younger man grumble something about ‘it being time,’ and attempt to roll out of bed before he’s snagged by the arm.

“Absolutely not,” chides his other self. “You’ve been running around since before the sun came up. An hour is not enough sleep.”

“But I gotta–”

“Benjamin.”

So that was his name.

“Two hours,” the boy says before shooting a web and yanking a red, white, and blue suit off the corner of the floor. Interesting power… “I’ll bring home dinner?”

“We already ate.”

“Oh,” Ben chuckles. “Right...”

Homelander watches him take the suit from Benjamin’s hands and toss it to the end of the bed.

“C’mere,” he lifts his arm, offering himself as a pillow. The boy returned to his embrace eagerly. “You gotta make time for yourself, babe. Sleepyheads don’t make for good heroes.”

Homelander spent days watching the pair. He found a way into the attic and lingered there when he wasn’t following the bug around the city. He decided that the web-head was insufferable. Noble to a fault, altruistic, kind, and painfully lenient on even the worst of the criminals he apprehended. Worse than that, he was the leader of The Seven. The completely reformed Seven, at that.

And the way he treated him– or, well, his other self…

He wanted him.

He wanted what they had. Every fucking minute of seeing them together, seeing their love, was a torture in and of itself.

This is what he needs.

Watching them make their stupid little grocery trip before cooking their stupid little dinner. Seeing himself cut and saute vegetables, actively assisting in the process…

Guess this version of himself was only good for domestic work, given he was without his powers.

This, above all else, disgusted him. Benjamin deserves a partner who can keep up with him, if not exceed his limitations. He deserves someone who can make things fun. Throw him around a little, fly him above the clouds and take him anywhere. But, instead, the bug settled on sticking around with this useless excuse of a man.

Why?

Why does he smile at him? Dance with him in the kitchen to no sounds beside the sizzles from the stove? Why does he let this pathetic nobody dip him back and kiss him?

How is it that he’s not faking a single ounce of pleasure when this human ruts into him?

”J-Johnny!”

The sound sends a jolt straight to his cock every time, and he touches himself as he watches, despite his ire.

Why does Benjamin look up at that disgusting, scar covered, sweaty fool and proclaim his love? Kiss his forehead and tell him that finishing early didn’t disappoint him? What makes it so fun to share a bubble bath with him and scoop suds atop his head?

And why the fuck does his alternate self love it so goddamn much?

Homelander, for as much as it confused him, wanted so badly for all of this to be his. They could be happy together, too, right? All he would have to do is dispose of this lesser man, and he could swoop in and show Benjamin just how perfect their lives could be.

By the third week, he snaps.

He nabs his sniveling, weak self out of the kitchen with ease. His mirror image was too stunned at the sight of him to even speak.

“What’s wrong, ‘Johnny?’” He snarls as they whip through the air. “Forget how to fly?”

He drops him a few times for good measure, really solidifying the fear that he’s at the mercy of, well… himself.

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to kill the loser. Homelander tells himself it’s for insurance in case Ben catches on, but even he knows that’s not quite true. He monologues endlessly about how interesting this world is. Tells the tale of how he brought his Earth to its knees in under three days’ time, slaughtering world leaders and eviscerating military ordinance left and right. He and his loyal fans– followers, now, took care of the unworthy. By bathing in blood, he cast a new light across the whole world. It was meant to be paradise, except for that one tiny little detail.

That thing he was missing.

“So, I’ll be borrowing your little bug boy.” He explains with a grin, staring down at his tied up self. “Sure you won’t mind, right? You gotta know this isn’t the life he deserves.”

He can see that jab hit home. Sees his body shake with anger and fear, hears the chain and shackle keeping him in place rattle just the tiniest bit.

“What kinda fuckin’ pussy do you gotta be to lose your powers, anyway? You were bigger than god himself and you just, what? Pissed it all away?”

His other self clenches his eyes shut and bites down on the gag.

“Ah, well…” Homelander grins, quirking his brow. “Hey, whaddaya think’s for dinner tonight, anyway? I bet I can get him to make steak… And, heh, when we finish up, I could probably show him an even bigger piece of meat. If you know what I’m sayin’,”

He leaves after a few more taunts, eagerly barreling back to that quaint little home before Benjamin can return. His suit gets stashed under the bed, and on goes some of his other self’s clothing. He hates to admit that they’re comfortable.

The only thing preventing him from looking totally the part was his hair, but that is quickly explained by a trip to a stylist once Ben arrives home. Finally saying he wants to take care of himself properly. Look nice and handsome again.

He greets the bug with a kiss that no amount of restraint can disguise as anything but starved.

“Woah, there, tiger.” Ben giggles, thumbing at his right cheekbone. Homelander spots a flicker of curiosity. “What’s got into you?”

“Same thing that wants to get into you,” he remarks with a smirk. Ben’s laughter is warmth in his very soul, even if the bug told him he’d rather wait till later in the night.

He could do that.

He could wait.

He bullshits his way perfectly through their banter. After so long observing, he knows just how to play the part. Expert actor that he is, he even makes sure to nibble on his lower lip just like his alternate self does when he’s thinking to himself.

It’s perfect.

The way they curl up on the couch together, the way Benjamin runs a hand through his hair. He can tell the bug doesn’t suspect a thing. Heart beat is in check, adrenaline isn’t spiked, and there’s not a lick of fear emanating from that cute little body of his. He’s in heaven.

That void in his chest feels full, and he has the last piece of the puzzle.

Everything’s perfect… until Ben tries to leave.

“I gotta go out tonight, pumpkin.” The web-head explains. He’s already dressed in that silly spandex suit of his. “Personal responsibility aside, it is part of my contract to keep Vought off your ass, y’know.”

He rolls his eyes, and grabs Ben’s arm.

“I said, no!”

It all went so smoothly until this. Why did he have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just fucking stay here?

Homelander grips Ben’s arm, and he sees the moment when the illusion fades.

Too hard.

Too strong for a human.

Ben looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes.

Homelander stays completely still, hoping that not reacting at all will dispel the realization and everything could go back to normal. He should force him to sit the fuck down and snuggle. Have him run those fingers through his hair some more, spread his legs later and be the perfect partner Homelander knows he can be.

But it’s too late.

Those hands land on either side of his upper arms and he’s being walked to sit on the bed. Benjamin takes a seat beside him and takes him by the hand.

“Man, I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t totally crazy, but…” The bug strokes the back of his hand as he speaks. “How did you get here?”

His eyes flicker red for a moment, ready to blow clean through his head and end his failure before it can get even worse. But, it is precisely this action which earns him a soft smile and a kiss to his knuckles. The crimson heat withers away almost instantly.

“M’not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Ben tells him. Admittedly, he caught on to the difference fairly fast. His sixth sense, combined with the fact Homelander was missing the scar on his cheek were the dead giveaways. Benjamin had to keep himself in check until he was absolutely sure, and, even then, he had to wait for the right moment to slip out and search for John. “I just have questions, y’know?”

Some way, somehow, those gentle eyes pulled every word from him with ease. Even as he tells his tale of conquest, he finds more understanding than horror looking back at him. Seemingly against his will, he devolves into a tirade about how fucking alone he really is. How miserable and sad his life is, despite having everything.

“But then I saw you two, and I…”

Benjamin nods, chin resting atop Homelander’s head. His heart hurts for him, despite the disgust at his deeds. He wonders if this would’ve been Johnny’s fate had things not gone the way they did. If, perhaps, he never did join The Seven. If his love never lost his powers. The immaturity and fury in this man rages hotter than it ever did in Johnny– even back when he was still Homelander.

He lets this one weep. Encourages it, even. Shushes him and weathers the ache of his impossibly strong grip. He wonders if Homelander has ever been allowed to let go. If anyone's ever held him together. Ever wanted to.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved…” Homelander sniffles.

By the time he settles down, Benjamin has missed his window to go out on his patrol. He hums while Homelander catches his breath. One hand strokes up and down his back while the other thumbs at his cheek.

“You’ll find your way, pumpkin.” Ben tells him. “Life makes us wait, and it especially makes us work. Johnny and I took a lot of both, especially work, but it turned out in the end.”

Homelander scowls, but no burning fury rises to his tongue.

“Even though I’m pretty sure our worlds are super different, I think you’ll find your person.”

It’s the kindest rejection he’s ever faced in his entire life. They sat there for a time, allowing a sense of calm to return. He could’ve almost forgotten everything that happened.

“Hate to break the moment, but uhm… I do kinda need my husband back, y’know?”

Homelander scoffs, but stands regardless. He pulls his suit out from under the bed and begins undressing. To his surprise, Ben helps him zip back into it and figure out the cape clasps.

As they flew to the dock warehouse, Ben giggled about the nostalgia of flying.

It was cute.

The mess they’d found his other half in was, however, quite the opposite. Heaving breaths and sputtered cries shook him, and his vitals indicated a full blown panic attack. It’s laughable. He’d only been there for a few hours, what–

“Oh, baby…” Ben coos, kneeling beside him to untie the gag and release his wrists from their binds. “Shh… S’okay now. Look at me.”

John’s hands moved to protect his face as soon as they were free, and Homelander watched with curiosity as Ben walked his other self through various methods of grounding. In a way, he almost felt… wrong for having done it. A disgusting, foreign feeling, and he wasn’t quite sure why he felt it. He certainly felt nothing of the sort massacring half of his Earth.

“I’m not there,” John gasps, a chill creeping through his body as the adrenaline and fear began to subside. “Not there, not there, not there…”

“That’s right, pumpkin.” Ben affirms. “You’re with me. You know that means you’re safe, right?”

John nodded vigorously, sitting up to embrace Benjamin, burying his face in the bug's neck.

He's so fucking pathetic, but…

God, Homelander wishes someone would hold him like that. Maybe if someone would've wiped his snotty little face, kissed his brow, loved him enough…

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

He’s met with a piercing stare from his other self. It’s almost laughable. Like a house cat threatening a lion.

Homelander watches the pair stand. Sees how Benjamin frets over possible injuries, pats him down despite all the reassurances there were none. It’s endearing, almost.

He trails after the pair as Ben swings them home. Watches how his other self relaxes his hold around Benjamin’s neck, completely and utterly trusting that he won’t get dropped for the umpteenth time in one day. He can tell that the nighttime air chills him, and he can hear Ben apologize and promise a hot bath.

Something in him feels wrong when they arrive back at the house.

Benjamin invites him in, but something isn’t right.

He isn’t right.

His body tingles and his head feels like it’s floating away from his body. He pretends to feel fine as they all take a seat in the living room to discuss everything.

He stifles a breathy laugh at the way his counterpart sits away from him. Yet, somehow, there’s an ounce of guilt.

Ben explains the fine details to John, but he doesn’t excuse the behavior. Makes sure to motion to Homelander when he tells John just how sorry his superpowered self was for such an act.

Homelander grumbles out his apology– yet another thing he’s never done before now. At least, not with any real sincerity. But the look in Ben’s eyes makes him want to mean it. So he says it again.

This time, he gives it meaning.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you.” His throat burns with each word. “For hurting you and trying to take him away from you.”

The tingling feeling returns tenfold.

Something must be happening, because the other two look at him with wide eyes. A glance down at his hands, and he appears to be dematerializing.

“W-What the fuck?” He stands abruptly, swatting at his body as flakes of light float from him. He rubs his arms, wrings his hands, he panics. “What’s happening to me?!”

Arms wrapping around his body startle him. Tears well up in his eyes when he realizes it’s not only Benjamin, but his other self as well.

“Think you’re goin’ home, pumpkin. You got this.” Ben murmurs against his neck.

The ache settles into his heart once more, but it feels different this time. He’s going to lose this.

“I don’t wanna go…” He sniffles, staring down at that head of unruly brown hair. “I– I wanna stay!” It’s warm here. Even when it’s hard to find, there’s still a degree of peace. And Ben– Ben’s so nice to him.

“I wanna stay!” He repeats desperately. “Don’t make me go…”

Hands rest at his face to make him focus.

“Look at me,” his other self says. “You’ll find what you need. Just gotta let it come to you.”

He shakes his head.

“Time and work, Homelander.” Ben reminds him. “I believe in you.”

Just as the tingling feeling becomes a full body vibration, his other self redirects his gaze. Blue meets blue, and he feels Ben hug him tighter.

“I forgive you.”

The feeling explodes, and he feels his body fade in and out of nothingness. He’s unsure what’s left of him, but he imagines some of those glowing particles still linger. Maybe Benjamin will miss him..?

He aches in the void. Sobs and screams, pulls at his hair.

He’s a wreck for an endless amount of time, floating through nothing until he blinks and he’s somehow back.

Back in the halls of Vought Tower, repurposed to serve as his worldly throne. Homelander meanders aimlessly. His followers salute him as he passes by, but his gaze remains fixed on the ground.

Why does everything look so gray?

Everything’s so… quiet.

Why is it so cold here?

He floats up flights of stairs to avoid people. Makes his way to the conference room with an idle mind.

Something just told him that’s where he should go.

He watches the city from his glass palace. The skyline doesn’t fill him with a sense of power as it once did. The crumbling decay only serves to remind him of how dismal it all really is here.

He stares. Contemplates. Loses himself for perhaps an hour or so.

He even ignores the sound of timid footsteps approaching him.

“Mister Homelander, sir?” asks a familiar voice.

Couldn’t be…

Their heart beats like a jackhammer, and their adrenaline is sky high. They smell so familiar, even covered in the stink of this world.

He turns around, stunned.

“I uhm… Sorry, sir,” outstretched is a hand to shake his. A spinneret rests at the base of his wrist. Soft brown eyes dart back and forth between meeting his gaze and looking away.

He’s nervous, but… he’s not afraid.

“I’m your new uhm…” The boy trailed off, chuckling nervously. “My name’s Benjamin– er, Ben is fine, too. Your choice, of course. I guess I’m your new whatever-you-want-me-to-be. T-They didn’t really specify, y’know?”

Homelander’s eyes soften, and he fights the bite of tears.

Time and work.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Benjamin.” He smiles down at the boy fondly. “Welcome home.”

note: this may become its own series depending on how badly it gives me brain worms

[h0m3land3r-exe]

"Reflections of another world."

[arealtrashact]

can people draw the designs you did of the seven as dogs? i really like how you designed maeve and homelander

Go for it ! And if you do, please send it my way - I'd love to see what you come up with. There can never be too much Supey-Puppy content...

Here's an old doodle of everyone's favorite Co-Captains

[anon-nee]

All That Glitters ...

is rarely ever gold. - drawn in collaboration with @blindmagdalena for her fic, "All That Glitters"

[z3nitsusgf]

I feel like homelander would be the type of yandere to make his soulmate/darling bathe with him.

“Isn’t this nice?” He sighed and you wished that you could have been anywhere but there, sitting in between homelander’s legs.

He would :// and he’d be so annoying abt it too

cw: soulmate au, nudity, implied nsfw, homelander’s vile mouth, he’s so needy bro, mention of fem.reader

It’s the only peace you get. Bath time is quiet, serene even. The only place in this fucking tower he couldn’t reach you.

When you clicked that lock into place, it meant safety. Tranquility. A moment of rest where he wasn’t pestering you about random bullshit or chewing you out for not folding his suits right.

The hot water feels so good and you won’t lie, Vought makes sure all the supe’s have the best products. The bath bombs and salts smell like heaven, and they work wonders. The bathroom is fogged with steam, smelling of citrus and starflower.

It’s easy to relax, to shut your eyes and fall asleep in.

Maybe it is your fault for thinking any place on earth would be safe from him.

You’d like to think Homelander’s not as cruel as he says, that he does what he does out of misguided love. He is your soulmate after all.

He just needs control.

That’s why you don’t say anything when he simply twists the handle of the door and breaks it. That’s why you let him shed his suit and climb into the tub behind you.

This was your one escape from everything in this fucking tower. Even that’s overtaken.

Your music plays on his speakers, this was the only time you could enjoy it without him complaining you’ve got shit taste. But that’s kind of shot now.

You draw shapes into the side of the tub, fingers leaving droplets on the porcelain. You would sink lower into the water if he wasn’t holding you against his chest. He’s kind of a poser, he’s not actually as muscular and huff as his suit makes him seem. Though you don’t underestimate the brutal power that flows through his veins.

He’s got his legs pressed against the sides of yours, his chin rests on your head. You try to ignore his stabbing length that rubs against your lower back. Trying not to shift in the tub, the water already close to spilling out, thanks to him.

You tilt your head back to look at him, the sharp jut of his jaw and his lashes fluttering over his cheekbones. He looks weirdly cute this way. Human for once.

“Whatcha pouting for?” He asks, hands smoothing across your waist, skirting dangerously close to your inner thighs.

“M’not pouting.” You mumble, furrowing your brows.

“Uh huh, you are.” He squeezes your cheeks in his hand, chuckling at the way your lips pucker into that stupid fishy face. You drop your chin, refusing to look at him anymore.

“You’re pouting because I came in here and started botherin’ you while you were soaping up your tits.” He makes a move to flick the underside of your breast, smirking when you try to jerk away.

He’s so crude and annoying, you hate him more when he’s in a good mood.

“I wasn’t-“ He raises his eyebrow mockingly, you huff at him. He’s roping you into his stupid little games.

You huff, you’d rather he left you alone. But you’ll take advantage of his good nature if it means giving you a few more hours of peace.

“Lighten up, buttercup. S’supposed to be relaxing.”

Relaxing your ass, he’s probably never taken a bath with anyone in his life. You’d roll your eyes if you knew he wasn’t gonna catch you. You opt for staring at the faucet that drips steadily into the soapy water.

“Hey,” he maneuvers you so you face him, and you try not to kneel him in the dick while he spreads your legs across his hips. Missing the flash of a smile on his lips when he trails his eyes over your body.

“Don’t get all pissy, babe. I only wanted to spend some quality time with my soulmate.”

Of course, he’s pulling that card.

You purse your lips, looking at him from underneath your lashes. The air is cold around your waist, you can feel the droplets of warm water slide down your back. Homelander gently pushes your arms, gesturing you to wrap them around his neck, and you do.

You’ve long since grown accustomed to his neediness. In some ways, you’re glad it exists. Because it shows you he’s still got some sensitivity left in that decayed rotten heart of his.

“I know,” you pull out all the stops for him, “I like spending time with you.” He makes a satisfied sound in his chest.

You wish you could say you were lying, but a sick depraved part of you is so used to him - that you get lonely when he’s gone.

You card your fingers through his bleach blonde hair, the wet strands sticking to the nape of his neck. He practically purrs under your hands, gripping your waist as he closes his eyes. You’re still annoyed that he’s ruined your personal space, but you’re just happy he’s feeling soft. You’re still aching from last night.

This is what you were meant for. Moments like these are what he’s always wanted, and now he has them. Homelander feels the flurry in his chest when you even peck his jawline, narrowly missing his lips.

He’s never taking a bath alone again.

[deliciouskeys]

Cozy Corner Domaystic prompts #16: Going through immigration and #24: Identity theft.

Guys. Guys, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what possessed me. I think I found these two prompts as some of the most challenging to imagine as a domestic fic, and… my thinking got a little bit too outside the box.

This fic will have an intended audience of about 1 (me). But I want to give major major props to @olliveolly who introduced me to this game and was the one who came up with this That’s Not My Neighbor / Boys crossover AU (with a couple lovely art pieces on the theme). The “lore” of this horror game is very simple. Tell me you don’t see it:

Butchlander. That’s Not My Neighbor crossover/AU. Rated E (why). 3.3k words (why). 2nd person to allegedly reflect the feeling of first-person gameplay (why). Is this domestic fic? Welllllll. It takes place in an apartment complex so it counts, right? Lax interpretation of ‘going through immigration’ but honestly that’s what this game really reminds me of 😂 AO3 link

Another day, another interminable shift working as the concierge in the dreary lobby of this apartment complex. It was exciting at first, sure, what with getting to play the first and last line of defense against the doppelganger monsters that attempt to sneak in every single day. But you’ve just gotten too good at noticing discrepancies. Nothing gets past you anymore. You know every single feature- hell, every single freckle! -of every single resident in the building. By this point you’ve got all their phone numbers memorized, for no better reason than there is simply too much tedium to this job. You find yourself wishing you could actually watch the D.D.D. ‘decontaminate’ the lobby, as they so euphemistically put it, instead of just sitting there twiddling your thumbs behind a pulled down rollup metal shutter after summoning them. You could still make out screams without seeing the brutality, and you knew the D.D.D. employed flame throwers and other serious weapons to deal with these monsters. Sometimes you caught yourself feeling just a little bit of sympathy for the doppelgangers, even though their main goal in life appeared to be to imitate people to blend in and then feed upon human flesh, and your main goal in life was supposed to be to ensure none of them would ever get let in through the locked inner door.

John Gillman comes in through the first door and gives you a tired, nominal wave before fishing around in his pockets for his documents to gain entry. He might be your favorite resident— always polite, always in that clean-cut milkman uniform at least when you happen to see him, because no one really leaves the apartment building outside of work obligations. There’s no nightlife in New York anymore, not with everyone nervous of dark alleys or being alone on the street, especially after dark. When you came over here from London, you certainly didn’t expect to get stuck here during a worldwide apocalyptic event like this that has resulted in curfews and lockdowns. You certainly didn’t expect to get zero action and get a mindnumbing job just to make ends meet. It was probably still more interesting than your gig working as a bouncer back in London, but at least you got fresh air there, and sometimes a date to go home with after closing time. Maybe that’s why you’ve started hyperfixating and daydreaming about one of the residents— the involuntary celibacy is getting to you.

John just always looks uncannily attractive. Maybe it’s that silly uniform that’s easy to fetishize. Maybe it’s because his tired eyes also look like bedroom eyes, or the dark circles function the same way eyeliner would. Why is he always so tired anyway? You know he lives alone up there in F03-02. He never gets any visitors either. How much can a person masturbate, really? There’s a rumor around the building that Becca Saunders’ tyke might be his, but you don’t really see the resemblance, and have your doubts that this didn’t just start as a “sleeping with the milkman” joke that got out of hand. People just like to gossip about single mothers. Things like this shouldn’t be considered scandalous. It’s 1955 for god’s sake!

“Sorry, William,” John says, hurriedly shoving his ID and entry request form underneath the glass so you can take take a look. “Almost thought I left my ID at work.”

“Long day, huh?” you ask without expecting a reply, pretending to scrutinize the documents while making small talk. You know this is John. You’d know him from a mile away. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun. “Looks okay, and you are on the list of people authorized to come and go today. But can you take off your cap?”

John grabs his milkman cap off his head, exposing a mop of blond hair, looking mussed after being under the hat all day. You really wish you could test him, see how far you’d be able to take things before he refused to cooperate. Take off your shirt, John. Gotta make sure it’s really you. You never know these days. But of course you don’t. All you’ll have is your fantasies about breaching every code of ethics and using your master key to gain entrance into his apartment, seducing him, ravishing him right in the middle of what must be a depressing bachelor pad. Give him much darker undereye circles by keeping him up all night. Give this apartment complex a more interesting rumor to spread about the milkman in their midst.

“You’re good to go,” you say and press the green unlock button to let him in. He gives you a wan smile and walks out of view, and you listen to his footsteps ascending the stairs.

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful, only a few people coming and going, and a couple of doppelgängers with laughably strange appearance or bad credentials being dispatched quickly. Or at least it’s uneventful until John walks in, just a little bit past curfew.

“Hey William,” he says, sounding distracted, rummaging in his pockets for his documents as a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. This better be a doppelganger, you think to yourself. But he has both his ID and the entry request filled out correctly. He looks identical to the John that passed by here a couple of hours earlier. This can’t be.

You start dialing John’s number, not taking your eyes off the man in front of you.

John’s eyes widen with alarm when he sees that you get an answer from the other end of the line.

“Yes, hello? John here. I’m not expecting any visitors.”

You hang up pretty abruptly, staring at the John in front of you, searching his appearance for any subtle defect or inconsistency but finding none. Your finger is hovering over the alarm button.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you think I’m someone else? It’s me, William! I swear to god it’s me! I don’t know who you let in earlier, and who’s answering the phone now, but it’s not me up there!”

And shit, you believe him. You must have fucked up. Gotten smug and sloppy. Maybe the doppelganger handed you a fake ID but you didn’t notice because you were too busy daydreaming about fucking him.

“William, please believe me, please!” John is pressing up against the glass at this point, clearly scared that you’re going to quarantine him in the lobby and sic the D.D.D. on him. They don’t tend to ask questions. You’ve never had it happen, but you’ve heard of innocent people getting snuffed out on the mere suspicion of being doppelgangers, the D.D.D. rarely admitting to such mistakes even after the fact.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. I just have to think…” you mumble. “I’ll let you in, but don’t go up to your flat. We have to figure this out.”

John nods frantically and slips into your office after you buzz him in.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, and if you weren’t scared shitless at the moment, you’d probably get a kick out of how vulnerable and scared his expression is compared to his usual tired, impassive one.

“I should call the D.D.D. and get them to go up there,” you think out loud.

“Won’t you get reprimanded?” John asks, and oh how sweet of him to worry about your job when you’ve fucked up so royally and almost gotten him killed with your negligence. Maybe already gotten some of his neighbors killed.

“I just don’t want you losing your job over this— you’re the best concierge we have,” he says and then looks down shyly, as if realizing how strange that concern is.

What is this? Are you dreaming? Maybe you’re just out of your mind with adrenaline, but John sounds like he’s got feelings for you.

“Let’s just go up there and see what’s going on,” he says, and damn he’s persuasive as fuck. You want to go and deal with the mess you made, and protect him.

“I’ll go up there and just check,” you say, hardly believing yourself as you grab the fire extinguisher from the wall as a makeshift weapon. Everyone who was scheduled to return to the building has, so you shouldn’t get any more legitimate people coming through, but you still tape up a note that you’ll be back at your post in a few minutes. “Right then. You just stay down here and wait. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. If I’m not back in five, call the number on the post-it.”

John shakes his head and follows you up the stairs. “I’m not letting you go up there alone,” he says in that quiet irresistible voice and you start to wonder if there’s something strange going on. Why are you going on this potentially suicidal mission to deal with a doppelganger on your own? So what if you get fired? No job is worth your life, right? But you probably wouldn’t see John ever again if you lost this job and that’s clouding all your judgment right now.

Knocking on John’s apartment door is probably not a good idea, and will just give the monster inside time to prepare or hide. So you take out your master key and turn it in the lock as quietly and quickly as you can. The door swings opens with an ominous creak, revealing a dark living room with no sign of anyone there. Did he hear you coming up the stairs? You try to keep John behind you and shield him in case anything sudden happens from within the apartment, but then you feel a strong push from behind and both you and John are in the flat now.

You’re so stupid, so critically, fatally stupid. The John you let in earlier was the real one. You’ve let a doppelganger convince you that you made a mistake, and now you did let one in. You whirl around, try to hit him upside the head with the fire extinguisher you’re brandishing, but he blocks the move with little effort.

“I thought we agreed,” he says, and you realize he’s speaking not to you but past you to someone else in the room.

“Thursdays are my days,” an identical voice answers from behind you and you step back and try to make sense of what you’re seeing. Two John Gillmans, both in the same uniform, neither one looking the least bit spooked, both looking mildly irritated if anything.

“Since when,” the John who came up behind you asks of the other one. “I get to be here every other day, doesn’t matter what day of the week it is.”

“So now what are we going to do about him?” the John who was in the apartment asks, pointing to you. “Why didn’t you just leave once he called me? Are you stupid?”

Your heart may be racing, but your thinking feels as slow as molasses. They’re …. both doppelgangers?

“What have you done with the real John Gillman?” you whisper hoarsely. The twins turn to look at you and you’re creeped out by the very similar smirk that spreads across both of their faces. They’re really impeccable facsimiles of the real person, but this is an expression you’ve never seen on John.

“You’ve never met the ‘real John Gillman’,” one of them says.

There’s enough cold sweat that’s broken out on your back that it starts to trickle down as drops.

“We like you William. It would be such a shame for our friendship to end.”

You hold up the fire extinguisher in front of yourself defensively, but you’re not sure you can really do anything against two of them. You’ve never noticed before, and maybe the real John’s teeth didn’t look like this, but the two doppelgangers have sharp looking canines when they’re grinning. It’ll serve you right to get devoured in this dark flat for making so many mistakes and bad decisions in a row today.

“So you’re just going to kill me then?” you ask.

“We’d really rather not,” one of the twins says. “A murder would bring a lot of snooping law enforcement if not the D.D.D. Itself.”

“And it’s so hard to find good lodging to spend the night.”

They must be joking. “You really expect me to believe you’re not just here to eat people?”

One of the twins rolls his eyes. “Eat people! Yeah, that’s why we’re here, clearly.”

“Has anyone in this apartment building ever disappeared in all the months you’ve worked here?” the other one asks.

“How should I know?” You’re beginning to feel like this has to be some sick nightmare. You can’t possibly be having a civil conversation with a couple of cannibal monsters. This thought has a strange calming effect on you. “If I didn’t know you lot were masquerading as John Gillman, how am I to know how many other residents are real people?”

The twins turn to each other, still smiling and shrugging.

“We’ve been on a vegetarian diet for a while,” the other says and you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Laugh all you want,” the other one says, spreading his hands in concession. “But milk is more than enough to sustain us. We do think people are delicious, but there’s one thing we like much more than eating them.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, emboldened by the possibility that you’re just in a ridiculous, paranoid, bad dream of a worst case scenario at your job.

“We’ve been watching you William. We think you’ve been interested in us.”

“We’ve never fucked anyone from this building, and never fucked together, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”

You just stand there, fire extinguisher still raised up defensively. No question about it, this must be a nightmare that’s slowly but surely twisting itself into a sexual fantasy.

“Come on, William. Let’s make you comfortable.”

You can hardly protest as one gently pulls your makeshift weapon out of your loose grip, and the other one sweeps you off your feet with preternatural superhuman ease and carries you over to the couch in this sparsely furnished apartment.

Gentle but insistent hands undo the buttons on your trousers and then maneuver you so they can pull them off completely and free your legs.

“Humans are such fun creatures,” one of the Johns comments when he sees that despite your fear of the situation unfolding right now, you are sporting a half-hearted hard-on. It somehow only gets harder when you hear them talk about people as another species.

Both Johns are still fully dressed, situating themselves to kneel on the floor on either side of you. It’s wild. You must be dreaming. And as you watch both Johns lean forward, extending their tongues and licking your cock up and down from opposite sides, you realize that if this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

They know what they’re doing. They bring you right up to the edge of orgasm and then pull away, leaving you feeling desperate and even annoyed. You’re not annoyed for long though as they both strip down, and you see that their human-mimicking powers are perfect, down to the most minute details that would never be seen under clothes. Granted, you don’t know what John Gillman looked like naked, so maybe they’ve taken artistic license and embellished. Whatever it is, they’ve compared notes, because they still look indistinguishable to you.

“Like what you see?” one of them asks and you realize you I’ve been staring, maybe even with your mouth hanging open. You never imagined you’d hook up with a doppelganger, let alone two of them at once. But you have imagined foisting yourself on John in this very flat, and you’re about to live that daydream.

You end up doing things with the two of them beyond what you’ve ever dreamed of. You fuck one of them, and at the same time get fucked by the other one from behind, the cheap bed’s metal joints creaking and moaning from the motion of three bodies rocking against each other. You let them suck your cock and rim you to get you back in the mood for another round, trying not to think about how unsettlingly hungry they both look, and who they really are underneath the human-looking exterior. The exterior slips periodically when they’re in the throes of pleasure. You wince when they betray just how strong they really are, whenever they flip you over or change positions, as if you weigh nothing. You try not to pay attention when their eyes start glowing red when they’re particularly turned on, but it’s impossible to ignore in the darkness of the bedroom.

“William, you are fucking delicious,” one of them declares, licking his lips obscenely after swallowing down your cum, and all you can do is emit a short nervous chuckle, and think that even if they do decide to eat you at the end of all of this— either to cover their tracks, or just because they might start feeling peckish after all this is over— it will still have been worth it.

You don’t get eaten. In fact, you’ve had the time of your life, and as you get up from the bed and mumble that you have to get back to your post before your shift is over, the two Johns lie languid, naked on the bed watching you, each enjoying a post coital glass of milk (that’s all they have in the fridge— you saw when they opened it), like perfect mirror images.

“You won’t be making any unnecessary phone calls, right William?”

“We can count on you to be discreet and keep a secret, right?”

Through the combined haze of being scared for your life and then having the time of your life, there’s still one thing that bothers you, and you ask about it, against all your best self-preservation instincts.

“So what have you done with the real John Gillman?”

They turn to look at each other, not exactly conspiratorial but it still makes you uneasy.

“Oh, John Gillman never existed. We’ve been around a lot longer than you humans think. Many of us never tried to replicate and replace real humans.”

“Yeah, and a lot of good that did when some of us started! The ones who are doing it are the reason we’re being hunted now. Unoriginal hacks. And so bad at mimicking too.”

“So many embarrassing ones out there.” They both nod at each other.

You’d like to believe them. You really would. “So why choose this persona?”

“The milkman gets free milk and gets around in your society! And humans seem to like this look,” one of them says, grinning and gesturing with his hand over their naked bodies.

“But we only ever get to enjoy bored housewives.”

“And why are there two of you?” you ask hesitantly, glancing at the clock on the wall to verify that you’re not late yet.

“Oh there’s more than two of us,” one of them says and they laugh in unison in a way that sends a chill down your spine.

~~~

You think you’ve got it all worked out. You’re letting the John Gillmans stay in the apartment undisturbed, and you let them through even when it’s obvious that there’s more than one of them coming and going. You figure it’s a win-win. They promise to protect the building from any rogue doppelgangers who infiltrate and intend to harm the residents, and in return get a place to stay the night peacefully. You get to visit apartment F03-02 after your shift ends and have mind-blowing sex. They seem to enjoy the orgies as well. They know your shift hours and try to only come and go during those times. There doesn’t seem to be a problem with this arrangement.

Or at least not a problem that you’re going to make into your problem. When one of the Johns walks in, visibly smeared in blood, you do give him a hard time.

“Come on, John. Just because I’ll let you in, doesn’t mean you can just stop trying to look decent. God forbid I call in sick and someone else is here.”

John shrugs and goes through the formality of pushing his ID and entry request under the glass window.

“And get a new ID…” you tell him when you see bloody fingerprints all over the worn paper.

John shrugs, doing his usual tired act, despite how ridiculous it looks to be so bored and nonchalant when he’s smeared in blood.

“Whose blood is that, anyway?” you ask, wondering why you’re not more disturbed.

“Someone who was of no consequence and who won’t be missed,” John replies, terse and cool as a cucumber.

“I thought you said you were vegetarian?”

“I’ll take a cheat day if I run into a wifebeater,” John says, shrugging.

You buzz him in, telling him to get washed up before someone sees him, wondering if you’re being colossally naive to believe his story, and wondering if you’ve got a death wish because you’re still looking forward to going up there once your shift ends in a few hours.

(What in the world. 💀)

ETA: now with another art piece by @olliveolly

[krazyyy]

Saw some people talk about a depowered Homelander having brown hair cause he no longer dyes it when his powers are gone and I adore this idea.

[herearedragons]

…fun little headcanon I just thought about: Zevran can flawlessly imitate a variety of accents when speaking Trade, but deliberately chooses to sound distinctly Antivan no matter which country he’s in

[supemaeve]

You really will do anything to hurt me, won't you? So… what are you and William cooking up? Hmm? Maybe you two brought that supervillain to town.

[olliveolly]

New art incoming 🥰

"Child Homelander AU" as I planned, a short story about how Homelander could avoid the fate of living under the wing of Vought international, and get the opportunity for a better life...

Or maybe not 😅

You decide 🤷🏼‍♀️

[blindmagdalena]

I am sooo sorry if you have answered something about this already but how do you think Homelander would be in a soulmate au where his soulmate can’t seem to be found.

When he finally meets his soulmate is he irritated that they took so long to come around or just happy to finally have found them?

to me, the vibe is that scene in the last unicorn when Molly sees the unicorn for the first time, and she breaks down, "Where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? How dare you! How dare you come to me now, when I am this!"

there is that agony from the sense that it's too late for him. he's too broken, too lost, too ruined.

but in that very same breath, he's whispering forgiveness and taking hold with such covetous desire. of course he's angry, he's wounded, but that won't override the sheer joy he feels at finally having what always should have been his.

he'll never, ever let them go.

[anti-cosmofangirl]

Betrayus and Pac from @ribbondee's "Twisted Fate" AU!

[hes-the-muse]

EROS AU WIP

EROS AU authors: @madhatter2727 and @theboysfanfic

EROS!HOMELANDER : GREEK MYTHOLOGY AU

status : On hiatus - starting ? : 4 weeks

madhatter2727 says: Since Eros is the son of Ares, he’s gonna have Homelander’s red eyes and Homelander’s dark personality. But since he’s also the son of Aphrodite, he does have the ability to love and love hard. Enter reader.

A month long prompt exchange inspired by the idea of Eros!Homelander. We want to build up a fic in small parts week by week to practice our writing and to see if we can come up with something good for the difficult task of writing a Greek Mythology theme.

madhatters vision : moodboard | antonias vision : moodboard

Week 1 : Week 2 : Week 3 : Week 4 : Moodboard

[arealtrashact]

I just LOVE your interpretation of Homelander so much. It's freaking genius, and all the ideas just what! awesome! God I'll pray you'll draw more The Boys fan art because it's breathtaking. So-so-so good. As the rest of your beautiful art. Thank you so much for the food.

Thank you ! I don't know that I'll draw new fan art for it (considering my luke-warm feelings towards season 3 and all it entailed) but I appreciate your kind words and I'm happy you like my pre-existing work ! I do have a surplus of WIPs from a few years ago, rotting on my old computer.

For now, here's something mildly cursed from fall of 2020

[epic-arc]

Tag game :D

@gorillageek27 @howlingday @rwby-encrusted-blog @watcher-servant