Work Text:
“I’m back!”
The front door to Homelander’s penthouse opened, a place you have come to call home. Maybe a bit too recent, as you and Homelander have only been dating for three weeks.
Do you regret moving in so soon into your relationship? Yes and no. Maybe.
But you would never let John know that. His method of persuasion came laced with sweet words and wide eyes.
Effortlessly carrying well over ten plus shopping bags from various stores, “I’ve got a knitting kit, paintbrushes, cookie cutters and uh …” Plopping all the bags in front of the fireplace, eyes scanning for a blank you on his orange sectional where you were commonly found, curled up with a book, “A bunch of other girly shit. I don’t know.”
He let the moment of silence sit, “Weird.” He said under his breath, putting his hands on his hips, circling around.
You were no where to be found.
“Hun?” He called out sweetly.
Walking to the couch, running his hands on the leather for any signs of warmth or indentation of your presence.
“Babe? Baby? Schmookems? Honey bun?”
Worry wasn’t the first emotion bubbling beneath the surface. No, he had nothing to worry about, surely.
That’s because you were never allowed to leave his penthouse.
Allowed might be a strong word, he didn’t own you.
He may have let it been known how much he was against you leaving the penthouse, ever since you were first brought into the public’s eye as the woman so proudly dating the leader of The Seven.
Not because he didn’t trust you, no, he put his whole bodily faith and trust into you. You were perfect.
No, it was when the ‘paparazzi’ started, the ‘fans’, both to protect and those green with envy.
When your address and place of employment was leaked online.
The phone calls, the emails, the social media bombing. You were not a supe, not in the slightest, you were just a regular, career going, walking your dog in the park, street meat buying citizen.
Which intrigued the masses even more.
Who were you?
How did a nobody such as yourself capture the eye of the one many see as a God?
You were that itch America just couldn’t scratch.
And then came the public events you would attend with Homelander as his plus one. Events that you rarely were invited to now, due to rabid fans and reporters asking too ‘personal’ of questions.
What was it like as a normal person having sex with Homelander? Was Homelander into any kinks? What about you, did you play off any of your own kinks with him? Is his dick big? When was the wedding? Were your parents proud you were dating a supe?
And that’s when the seclusion started.
“I’m just not comfortable with you mixing in with ‘that crowd.’” He would say. Or, “I’d rather keep you all to myself. I’m not one to share.” Winking at you like he was slick. And sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
So to keep you from your bordem, he showered you with a plethora of various hobbies.
Anything to keep you busy to not stray and wander out into the world.
It brought him immense comfort during his missions to know where you were and always will be.
And it worked. He surely did give you lots to work with, even books that had been on your ‘to be read’ list that he would leave and return with in five seconds flat. He would give you the world if you asked.
The usual look of relief and mushy joy was not met this time around though, as slight panic began to settle in when you weren’t responding to his return. Even if you weren’t there to welcome him with open arms, you were at least napping, or taking on the newest hobby you had at your disposal. All in visible places for him to see.
And seeing you, he did not, x-raying around the penthouse, through every room, even in the closet where you one time decided to hide and scare him as a prank. A prank he did not find very amusing since you weren’t the first of contact by the entrance.
So where could you have gone?
“X/Y?” He called out once more, swallowing back the helpless tone that coaxed his words.
This was it.
You had enough and left.
You abandoned him. You were fed up.
You felt like a prisoner under his watchful eye.
Even after everything he had done for you? Are you stupid? Seriously, are you THAT fucking stupid?
Do you know who he is? How important he is? Didn’t you see that in him? You must have, or you wouldn’t have so openly sucked his dick in front of his penthouse window. Getting your head knocked back so hard into the glass that you had to be hospitalized. A fine lesson to Homelander that he needed to tone it down with someone as ‘normal’ as you.
He shut his eyes, taking a deep, heavy breath in, exhaling steadily through his lips.
No. He knew you better than this. You weren’t one to quit, to give up on your relationship. Not at all. You were happy with him, proud even to be his girlfriend. You talked marriage and your future with him when he asked, how many kids you wanted, the picket fence house you some day wished to live in with him.
No. He wasn’t going to doubt you, not even for a second.
Maybe you were still in the tower. Just needed a different change in scenery. Spiting at the boring royal blue walls that encased you 24/7. Of course, that’s all it was, a change of scenery. You were just dying of curiosity to see his place of work, maybe even socialize and get to know the rest of The Seven.
But wait.
That was never a good thing.
What if one of them got too friendly with you? Shared trade secrets with you? Touched you inappropriately or even looked at you inappropriately? What if one of The Seven had a vendetta against him and held you hostage to spite him? You could be anywhere in this tower by now, in any of the other penthouses crying out for help.
You needed him.
And you needed him now.
Homelander began marching out of his penthouse, running a shaky, frustrated hand through his slicked blonde hair. Stressing himself out with all the different scenarios he had cooked up in his head. Paying little mind to the Vaught employee he had knocked over on his way to the meeting room.
The doors on 99 split open for him, “Where is she?”
The rest of The Seven looked among themselves, “Where is who?” A-Train asked.
“X/Y. Where is she? Which one of you have her?”
“What are you talking about? Nobody has her. She never leaves the penthou—-“
Deep was quickly interrupted, “Well she isn’t there, so she must be somewhere here.”
The rest of the team looked among themselves again, sensing the high distressing tone and bulging vein about to pop on Homelander’s forehead. Nobody dared to speak.
Homelander looked at each of them one by one, raising his arms wide by his side in a, ‘So?’ Kind of motion.
Silence.
Homelander took another deep breath in, delusional in his thinking that somebody here even had the answer.
“H-Homelander, if you may … We have a meeting to get throug—“
“ASHLEY PLEASE!” He gritted through tight lips, shutting his eyes to keep whatever composure he thought he had, pinching the fingers of his right hand to the thumb in a hush motion, “FUCK the meeting. Where, is, she?” Steadily losing control of himself, in the calmest voice he could muster.
Maeve was the only one bold enough to speak, “Maybe she got bored and wandered out. You know, into the ‘real’ world.”
Your beloved began marching towards Maeve’s chair, fists balled up tightly by his sides, “Do you know that for a FACT, Maeve?”
His ex-lover flashed him a ‘Get Real’ expression, eyes thinning in disbelief, “What do you expect when you keep her cooped up all day? I’m surprised she didn’t leave sooner. She’s not some dog—-“
“Nope. Not having it.” Already stomping towards the exit.
“Homelander please the meeti—-“ Ashely squeaked.
“I SAID FUCK THE MEETING!” A shower of spit flying through the air. He had reached his limit. Every second of you missing counted.
Homelander raised a finger, pointing at every single person in the room, “You all better go out and find her. Right now. I don’t care who you have to KILL, to find her—“ He shut his eyes, straining to even breath properly at this point, opening them up again with a scarily wicked smile across his face, “Actually. I take that back. You are all too weak, unreliable and STUPID for such a task. So you know what?” Shrugging to himself, “Fuck this meeting, I’ll go out and find her myself.”
Ashley stumbled forward, “H-Homelander! Wait! Wait!” Her shoulders slumped, “God damn it …”
The sky ripped against Homelander’s flight, scanning desperately among the streets of New York, in search of any heat signature or scent he could pick up from you. It was frustrating not knowing what clothes you were wearing before you left. Leaving whirling winds behind for others to steady themselves through when he flew too close to the ground.
He would find you, one way or another.
Were you even on the same continent anymore?
Homelander landed dead center in Times Square, attracting the once scared off citizens, to a now adoring crowd.
‘It’s Homelander! Oh my god it’s Homelander! He’s here!’ They cried out.
Phones were held out, snapping all the pictures and videos they could of this unexpected visit.
“Yes yes, hello!” He welcomed, flashing the friendliest smile he could through his pearly whites, waving to those around.
A giant tv billboard to his left flashed a news reporter, with the words ‘Breaking News’ scrolling across the screen in bold red letters, “And this just in, we have received reports straight from the source that a Miss X/Y from New York City has been captured and held hostage for ransom. We are now going to play a video our news desk had just received moments ago, targeting the ransom to none other than America’s own Homelander. Viewer discretion is advised.”
And there you were, like a prayer answered.
Trapped in a dingey, dark, concrete room. Surrounded by masked men in ski masks. You sat squirming, bound and gagged in a rusty looking office chair. Wheeled and spun around to face the camera, your eyes were blindfolded too.
The first thing Homelander questioned, is why were you only in a bra and jeans? Where did your top go? Why were you stripped? Was this some sort of humiliation tactic, to show the world your breasts? Why was your skin so dirty? Did they roll you around in dirt? Were there hands so dirty that they left imprints of their touch on your skin?
Your hair messy and signs of your resistance showed, sporting a developing blue and purple bruise against your cheek.
Homelander so intensely immersed in the news report, he paid little mind to the frolicking crowd around him, touching his cape and taking selfies by his side.
His mind began to fray, unable to coherently process the words coming out of the kidnappers mouth, relying solely on the text on screen. A posed portrait of his smiling self, plastered at the top right of the screen, clearly linking him to you and who exactly you were.
A million dollars, that’s how much your ransom went for.
That’s it? That’s all you were worth? That’s all the kidnappers wanted from him? A million? How offensive an amount when you were worth more than that in his eyes. Shows how foolish these kidnappers were by not upping the ante.
Homelander began chuckling to himself, not because he knew he could handle this situation with ease, but because he was beginning to lose concept of how stupid these kidnappers were. Seriously? Out of everyone in the world to kidnap, you? It had to be you?
The smile dropped from his face, determined more than ever to find you.
Shrieks filled the air of where he once stood, flying the hell out of there, knocking some on their feet from the sheer velocity of his take off.
His x-ray scans piercing deeper into the ground. There were no windows in the ransom video, so you clearly were underground.
And in a mere ten seconds, there you were. Counting what must have been a group of twelve or so, guns at the ready.
How did these criminals attain these weapons so easily? “What has this world come to?” Homelander muttered to himself.
Surely they must have known guns wouldn’t work. Were there supes involved? Not like that would make a difference in any way, shape or form.
You were in a world of blindness. An increasing headache taking over, not from only being beaten to a pulp from resisting your kidnappers, but how tightly this blindfold was against your temples. Otherwise, you were physically fine, just a few bumps here and there.
A muffled scream leapt out of your chest, as a bassy boom of the wall smashing a few feet in front of you shook you to your core. Dust and debris sprinkled over your skin.
You shrivelled inwardly as the piercing sounds of gunfire and guttural roars took over. Balling yourself into this chair as tightly as possible, afraid to get caught in the swarm of bullets.
Ethereal sounds similar to thunder circled you, a supe’s power was being used.
“There you are sweetheart!”
You let yourself relax, hearing his familiar voice call out to you.
The sounds of struggle, but not from your beloved was now heard. The sounds of fleshy impact and bodies dropping was something you were no longer afraid of. Not now, knowing he was here.
Your hair was tugged back violently, dragging your entire weight backwards in the creaky office chair. A portion of the blindfold fell, seeing the world through one eye.
Homelander walked a straight line towards you casually, face beaming radiantly now that you were in his sights, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you Pumpkin! You wouldn’t believe my day when I heard you were here, of all places! Yuck! Let’s go home now sweetheart, what do you say?” Still continuing his way towards you, his body barely moving an inch with so little physical effort as he punched literal organs out of a man, and crushed the head of another with a single hand. Without looking. He saw you and only you.
These kidnappers were literal nobodies, not even needing the use of his signature laser beams.
Gunfire closer to the right side of your head was deafening, as a wave of wind brushed past, sending your hair into a frenzy. A body wheezing it’s last breath by your feet croaked, hushed by a single visceral stomp of Homelander’s boot.
And just like that, there was silence.
The familiar walking pattern and texture of his well made boots approached you, untying the blindfold and releasing the gag from your mouth.
Taken aback but also warm with love in your eyes as Homelander stood bent at face level to you. His super suit, face and blonde hair drenched in dripping fresh blood. Gallons of it.
His wide, childlike grin a mixture of sheer happiness and relief. Cupping your face in his bloodied glove, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“I told you my love, I will always be by your side. It’s you and me. Forever.”