Work Text:
“ All-American Superheroes, born and bred in the land of the free and working to protect the interests of god fearing patriots like you across the country!”
Yeah right.
You internally roll your eyes as you look away from the giant screen in the foyer that blasted this propaganda day and night, scanning your access badge and going up the elevator with your tray of coffees.
Working at Vought quickly shattered any illusions you had about supes in record time; just like any other person, you had grown up hearing about how brave and kind these heroes were to protect us regular folk.
Supes, despite everything you thought you knew from childhood, aren’t good people - who could’ve guessed that unchecked powers would turn people into entitled monsters?
It’s bad enough when your higher ups expect you to cater to their every whim without so much as a please or thank you, it’s even worse when said higher up has the power to squash you like a bug as easily as breathing - and they don’t mind getting their shoes dirty.
You check your watch and find yourself worrying your lip between your teeth. Can’t be too late or you won’t hear the end of it. Thankfully even though Ashley is an annoyance she can’t just kill you and make it seem like nothing ever happened.
God, it’s not even normal to be thinking like this. Maybe quitting wouldn’t be the worst idea, huh?
Ding!
The doors open and you bolt out as quickly as you can, not wanting to face Ashley’s wrath or risk her breaking down about her hair loss again, it’s not even 8am yet an-
You collide with what feels like a brick wall. It might as well be with the way you stop dead in your tracks from the sheer force and the recoil causes the hot coffee to spill all over your surroundings.
You look up to see what the obstacle was, probably an intern gawking at some random supe in the hallway.
It’s The Homelander. Tall and statuesque, just his mere presence demands respect and you’ve covered him in hot coffee.
Oh god, please let this be some horrible nightmare you’ll wake up from any minute now.
“You sure know how to make an entrance! Maybe try not to ruin the suit next time though, yeah?” His blue eyes twitch and you can see his sharp canines make an entrance in his plastic smile.
Your mouth gapes open like a fish and despite all the thoughts racing through your head, no words make it out of your mouth. Get it together! Still, your knees threaten to buckle from panic as you decide the correct course of action that won’t get you maimed or worse.
“Are you listening to me, uh, Y/N?” He squints at your name badge before saying your name with a slight edge, all for show of course considering his eyesight must be, well, superhuman.
This has its intended affect as it jolts you back to the present. “Oh my god, Homelander! I am so sorry about this - I wasn’t paying attention and it’s all my fault,” You place the tray to the floor and immediately begin working on dabbing up the coffee stains that ruined his suit with spare napkins, “I’ll even pay for the damage, they could just take it out my pay check?”
“The suit costs more than you make in a year.” The blood drains from your face and your hands falter in their movements before he flashes a grin, “I’m joking! Smart girl like you knows what a joke is surely.”
You let out a weak laugh.
——————————————————————————
Ever since you bumped into him it feels like no matter where you go, Homelander is always there. His gaze conveniently catches yours as you greet colleagues, his eyes soon turning sharp as he barks orders to whoever you were talking to. Sometimes they even get transferred to other departments and even if it seems far fetched a part of you wonders if it’s his doing.
Every assignment you’re put on seems to involve him in some capacity and it would be ok if he wasn’t trying to talk to you constantly. It got to the point that even other people noticed and started to distance themselves from you, not that it seemed to bother Homelander.
Once again you find yourself stood in front of Ashley’s desk, placing down her lunch order and handing over the meeting briefings she asked for yesterday.
“Ok, well if that’s everything I’ll be off!”
God, you hate working corporate. Having to smile so wide it hurts your cheeks when all you want to do is just sit down for once.
You turn on your heels but stop right before the door as you hear Ashley cough. Subtle.
Shoulders deflating, you prepare yourself mentally and turn back around with another diabetes-inducing smile to find the red-head clasping and unclasping her hands before taking a rushed sip of her coffee.
“Shit, that’s hot.” She mumbles under her breath, hand covering her mouth before she clears her throat again and sits up straighter. Sure, she can have her moments but it’s times like these when you realise that maybe she’s just like you: tired, overworked, run ragged - if the bald spot and deep eye bags are anything to go off.
Ashley steadies her breath and her eyes dart all over the room and you can’t help but think that even this is over the top for her, “You’re going to be over the moon when I tell you that the Homelander wants you as his new personal assistant! Of course, you will still technically be under me.”
You jump in surprise when you hear his name mentioned and try to argue against it, that you only want to work for Ashley but she wasn’t hearing any of it.
“But why?! There’s a ton more knowledgeable employees out there that would be better suited for him!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as Ashley pauses, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes.
“Y/N do you like having a job or what?! Now I’ve sent some documents to your email; print them out and give them to him.”
You feel lightheaded as the elevator travels higher up than you’ve ever been before, all the way to Homelander’s penthouse.
A part of you wondered why you couldn’t just hand them to him The Seven’s meeting room but you quickly dismiss the thought. You aren’t getting paid enough to question your bosses frankly inconvenient choices constantly.
Thinking you know better than these supes was a quick way to end up in an “unfortunate workplace accident”. You shivered to think of all the poor souls that didn’t know their place.
The elevator stops and you know that any second now you’ll be entering uncharted territory. You heard about his notorious attitude, worse than some of the supes you’ve encountered so far and they’ve been bad. You just hope you make it out alive and he decides he no longer wants anything to do with you.
Calm down, all you have to do is smile, hand him the documents and then you can be on your way, easy.
The doors open and you’re surprised when you see that the Homelander is stood right by the entrance, hands clasped in front of him with a fake smile you could spot from a mile away.
“Oh! H-homelander! I wasn’t expecting you to be so…close?” You grimace but quickly smooth over your expression, shuffling around his body and walking over to the coffee table.
You can’t help but gawk at the impressive room in front of you. You knew they would be spoiling the guy but damn, this is next level.
You can hear his heavy steps trailing behind you, feel his overwhelming presence invade your space before his voice booms throughout the room.
“Thought I’d give my favourite PA a warm welcome!” He brings his arms out to his sides, smile somehow managing to become wider than it was before.
You nod in agreement, not wanting to get on his bad side so quickly into the new job. “Uh, yeah, thank you. These are the papers Ashley said you needed so. If that’s all I’ll be going.”
His smile drops ever so slightly and if you too weren’t so used to putting up facades you wouldn’t have even caught it. He nods and waves his hand to excuse you and you walk as quickly as you can to your escape without seeming scared.
You enter the elevator, eyes glued to the floor, as Homelander calls out to you without warning, “By the way, your ass looks great in those pencil skirts - keep up the great work.”
Your eyes snap up to the mirror in the elevator just in time to lock eyes with his blue ones, a wolffish grin on his face right before the doors shut behind you.
You stand stock-still, staring at your own horrified reflection until you got off at your floor.
——————————————————————————
It could’ve been worse, you tell yourself, he could’ve actually hurt you. But he didn’t, not really.
It’s been months since that incident and you still haven’t found the courage to wear a skirt since. You could tell it made him unhappy and the first day you showed up to work in trousers he had the gall to tsk in your face but at least he didn’t say anything.
However, you did notice that now his eyes strayed down to your lower body more often, lingering there for longer than usual. His eyes both seemingly laser focused and unfocused at the same time, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
You didn’t know exactly why but it made you feel like crawling out of your own skin and hiding far, far away from Vought headquarters.
Working under Homelander was difficult to say the least and not because of the horror stories you’d heard whispered in toilet cubicles or written on soon discarded notes in the staff room. He wasn’t violent with you and he rarely shouted, but he was demanding of your time, more than a boss should be at least.
It felt like anytime you spoke to a colleague, especially a man, there he was to reprimand the two of you on the virtues of “doing your jobs and not wasting valuable company time.”
Whenever he did so, his face was contorted in anger and those colleagues always got transferred to different departments, or worse - got into “workplace accidents.”
Then, he started to expect you to spend your lunch breaks with him, then your days off and before you knew it, he was calling you at 1am to “swing by the penthouse” and help him go over his lines or some other bullshit.
Of course, you responded to every beck and call like the good employee you are.
You felt like you were going crazy, like your life suddenly stopped belonging to you and became the property of someone else. Someone who could ruin your life faster and much easier than you could breathe.
And it wasn’t only affecting your work life, but your personal life - your romantic life.
Living with your girlfriend, Mia, was supposed to be the dream arrangement; you both saved on rent while getting to be together more often. What more could you ask for? And it was for a time, truly it was.
But this new role working for Homelander took precedence over everything else that was once so important to you. You cancelled dates, you skipped movie nights, you weren’t home early enough to say “good night” and “I love you” anymore.
The guilt tore you up inside; after all, Mia moved to your city because she knew how important your job was to you and what do you go and do? Neglect her like her sacrifice meant nothing.
She deserves better than someone who comes home late every night and is gone before the sun has even risen just to be a slave to their work.
Today’s your rare day off and still you can’t enjoy it in fear that Homelander will call you and get you to do some stupid task an intern could do.
You can already hear his high and mighty voice ringing in your head, “Go to this cafe and get this annoyingly specific drink, Y/N.”
Or, “Y/N, I pay for you to give me precise details and this isn’t good enough, go print these out again.”
He’s not even the one that pays you!
You shake your head as if to tamp down your irritation and instead reach over the bed to caress the smooth contours of your lover’s face, taking in each blemish, the fluttering of her lashes, the way she murmurs softly as if even in her sleep all she wants to do is be close to you.
You worry that soon your girlfriend will come to the same conclusion you have, if she hasn’t already, and leave you for a woman who is better than you in every way.
You wouldn’t blame her; she’s gorgeous, smart, headstrong and so incredibly kind it makes your heart hurt.
Well, at the very least you can show your appreciation for her by making her breakfast in bed. You get ready for the morning in the bathroom before shuffling over to your small kitchen, searching the fridge for ingredients you know aren’t there.
You peek your head around the bedroom door to find your girlfriend still snoring. She won’t wake up for another hour or so which gives you perfect time to get supplies.
——————————————————————————
Perhaps running errands wasn’t how you wanted to start your off-day but you’ve had enough of being jaded. You get to spend the day with your girl and show her how much you love her!
You make your way to the new organic store your friends told you about, determined to make a tasty and healthy meal - Mia’s favourite. You peruse the aisles and make quick work of getting what you need, ticking off your internal checklist as you go.
You pay (and grimace at the amount of money you know is going to hurt coming out of your account) and start making your way home. The sun is shining, birds are singing and you are in an unusually good mood. You even start to hum to yourself until you catch sight of your worst fear.
Who else is it but Homelander.
You watch as he flies through the neighbourhood and lands right next to you - of course donning a smile too wide for this time of morning to be natural.
“What are the odds I bump into my favourite personal assistant! You sure look…cosy.” He eyes your less than professional attire, a worn hoodie and sweats that have definitely seen better days.
You’re too fed up to even feel embarrassed and the judgemental edge to his voice serves to annoy you further so you correct him, “Your only personal assistant.”
He deflects your words with ease, maybe his brain is like his skin and he’s just too dense to pick up on your exasperation at his arrival.
It could just be your imagination but it feels like everything around you has suddenly become dull the moment he appeared. You watch as he opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you to do some mind numbingly boring job that a grown man should be capable of, but cut him off. It’s your day off and you refuse to spend it working for him.
“I’m sorry but I’ve got a super busy day. I’ll check in tomorrow.” You’re aware of how sour your tone comes across but why should you bother trying to spare his feelings when you’re not even getting paid for it?
You wave and rush back home before he could try and guilt trip you into staying. Once you find yourself back in the kitchen, you’re surprised at the fact that he just let you go so easily. Better not to think too much on it.
Breakfast is finished and plated on a tray as you walk to the bedroom to find your girlfriend already awake and scrolling through her email.
“Babe, you’re back! I was wondering where you went.” Her voice is rough with sleep and you can’t help the butterflies that bloom in your stomach.
You place the tray of french toast, fruit and water on her lap and kiss her cheek delicately.
“Well,” you start, “Just thought I should apologise for being absent so much recently.”
Her eyes soften as she hugs you tightly and all you want is for this moment to last forever. She digs in her food and you both make idle chit-chat, luxuriating in your joint happiness and peace. That is until you bring up your earlier encounter.
It’s not like you meant to bring work back into the fold but a part of your brain itches at Homelander’s odd appearance and before you know it, it turns into a full blown rant.
Mia rolls her eyes before shoving away the tray of half finished food. Uh oh. She folds her arms over her chest as her eyes well up with unshed tears and it’s clear that you’ve ruined what was meant to be a romantic day.
“God, Y/N! It seems like all you care about nowadays is your job and Homelander. Don’t you think that’s unhealthy? Don’t you care about me anymore?”
So many thoughts and unsaid emotions rush through your mind but before you can begin to apologise and explain the insane stress you’ve been under, you get a notification on your phone.
Homelander: There’s a very important meeting tonight in my penthouse with some of the board. Wear a nice dress.
You want to ignore the message and focus on your girlfriend but you can’t. The struggle must be evident in your eyes because she scoffs and gets up from the bed, meal all but forgotten.
“Forget it, I’m gonna stay at a friend’s place tonight.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so defeated before and knowing that you caused it makes you feel nauseous.
You try your best to bargain with Mia but she’s gone and left you to pick up the pieces. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, you have no time to be sad - you have a meeting to prepare for.
——————————————————————————
You smooth over the invisible wrinkles in your satin skirt. After all, you brushed off Homelander and you don’t need anymore strikes against yourself.
The doors open to a familiar sight, except this time instead of the harsh lighting you’re accustomed to. It’s softer, more delicate. If you didn’t know any better you might even say romantic.
Somebody dimmed the overhead lights and stuck candles all over the place, there were even rose petals strewn across the floor that led to the dining table.
Weird, but maybe he has a date immediately after this and won’t have enough time to prepare once the meeting lets out.
Your heels echo on the marble floor as you make your way to the kitchen to find The Homelander, still in his signature suit, waiting at the head of the table. He seems nervous in his own strange way and you have to knock on a nearby pillar to get his attention.
“Hey, Homelander.” You say unsure of yourself as your head swivels around only to find the place devoid of any other employees who should’ve been present.
“Am I early to the meeting or…?”
“Meeting?” He seems to re-enter reality with that one word, “Ah, that little old thing. Don’t worry about it just yet.”
He manages to hone in on your hesitance with hawk-like precision and gestures to the bottle of wine on the countertop near you, “Go on, pour yourself a glass of wine.”
You do as he says, thankful for the opportunity to turn away from his penetrating stare whilst still aware that what he said wasn’t a suggestion but an order, and pour out a small serving.
“A little bit more won’t hurt ya!” You bristle where you stand - can he see through you? Despite not wanting anymore you pick up the bottle and continue pouring until he says “perfect”.
Slowly turning around, you walk to the table and sit down across from him. You don’t know whether to face him head on or dart your eyes everywhere but his face. You choose to drink your wine instead and peek up at him over the rim of the glass - an option sat comfortably in the middle that helps calm your nerves.
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, missy.” He winks boyishly as he says this, as if you two are friends having casual banter and that’s enough to make you pause mid-sip and place your glass down on the dining table.
The elevator dings and you look to it in relief; finally, the others are here to save you from this god-awful situation.
So, imagine your surprise when it turns out to be Ashley juggling bags of takeout from a restaurant way outside of your price budget.
You want to question why she’s alone, why she’s dropping off food instead of joining the meeting, why she looks downright scared as she watches the two of you.
You turn to Homelander with furrowed brows but he simply ignores you and instructs Ashley to plate the food for the two of you.
“I guess it’s just us three ready for the meeting, huh?” You laugh under your breath but quickly stop as you catch the confused look on Ashley’s face, though it quickly disappears when Homelander gives her a harsh glare.
“Oooh, about that it got um, cancelled?” She sounds like she knows even less than you do despite being the CEO and that makes the pit in your stomach grow larger by the second.
She finishes plating the food and hurries away leaving just you and Homelander at opposite ends to eat your meals quietly.
He’s eager to break silence and asks about your family, where they live, childhood pets and other similar banal questions that it reminds you of when you were younger and the conversation you had during your many unsuccessful first dates with boys in your class. Still, it’s almost endearing how hooked he seems to be to your answers, laughing at even the most basic family game night stories.
It goes by like this for a while before he sets his knife and fork down and links his hands together.
“Well Y/N, I bet you’re wondering exactly what you’re doing here. It’s not easy for me to say but…I lied about the meeting. I have feelings for you and I wanted to ask if you would be interested in a relationship. With me.”
You immediately choke on your bite of food, reaching for the glass of wine and taking a healthy swig to stop choking.
This seems to please Homelander and he laughs, more real than you’ve ever heard before as he steamrolls right past the interruption.
“Hah, well that’s one way to get my focus.”
You stare at him in disbelief at what’s happening; you don’t want him to continue to misread your signals. You let in a shaky breath as you prepare to let down your boss who is also the most powerful supe in the world. You can’t exactly lie, can you?
“Um, that’s not exactly it,” you pause to carefully choose your words as you take in the slight changes in his facial expressions, the way the bridge of his nose seems to tense and his smile dulls despite not moving an inch, “It’s just that I have a girlfriend. I’m, y’know, a lesbian.”
It’s as if someone has removed all the oxygen from the room, or maybe you just stopped breathing, as you unwittingly enter a staring contest with Homelander. Is he going to fire you? Or worse, kill you?
But then he laughs.
It’s a loud guffaw that reaches every corner of his opulent penthouse, he even goes as far as to tilt his head back and laugh some more like he doesn’t have enough room to let out all of his laughter.
You start to giggle along too, some of your anxiety flittering away as your hands mess around with the cutlery, unsure of what exactly comes next.
“I’m surprised you never realised, my purse has a carabiner on it and everything.”
You don’t know why you said that, but a part of you just wanted to ease the remaining tension until it’s like it was never there in the first place.
It’s all just one big misunderstanding and we’ll laugh about it in the future, right?
The laughter begins to taper off and he once again locks eyes with you, the wooden smile on his face still stretching at the skin of his cheeks uncomfortably.
It’s downright uncanny to watch.
He raises his eyebrows as he mouths out a wow and downs the rest of his glass and you do the same, mirroring his nonchalant manner the best you can.
“You know what’s funny to me?” He begins in a lazy drawl and you shake your head in response, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you let a small smile break the surface. Maybe the wine really is getting to you.
“It’s that you’re not one of those hot little college girls anymore, you’re a grown woman for christ sake. You can stop with the experimenting. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down and found a real man?” He says it in such a deadpan tone it takes your mind a second to register what exactly he said.
Time pauses for just a second, allowing you an eternity to study the cruel glimmer in his eye before the erratic beating that swelled in your chest explodes and brings you back to the present.
You blink once. Then twice.
“E-excuse me?” Your voice cracks despite how hard you try to sound brave and self-assured. You can already feel your cheeks growing hot and the pressure behind your eyes begin to build.
He raises both hands in mock defense and watches you with his beady eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m the biggest ally around but trust me, you’re confused. Why else would you wear those slutty skirts to work if you’re not trying to attract men? I know how women work.” He chuckles through a clenched jaw and a flash of white-hot rage runs through your body and wracks your very core.
You place your hands under the table so he can’t see how hard you’re shaking. Or maybe he can - who knows the extent of his powers.
“I’m sorry but I’m not attracted to men, I have a girlfriend and I thought the carabiner on my ba-” You begin rattling off all kinds of nonsensical reasons just as his right hand balls into a fist and slams into the dining table so harshly it fucking splinters.
You take that as a sign to shut up now.
His left hand drags down his face as he groans, “Stop with the fucking carabiner! Why would I know anything about that lesbian shit?!” His words are dripping in condescension and disdain.
“No, no,” he wags a gloved finger in front of you, gleaming white teeth bared like a predator waiting to strike, “You. Are. Confused. I’ve dated one of those before and you are not it.”
Tears are openly streaming down your face yet you don’t even have the guts to wipe them away considering how viciously the tremors travel across your body and he laughs at your terror.
“Remind me, where did you say your parents live? And oh yeah, your friends?” You both know that he isn’t just listing off these facts for fun, he’s threatening you and you hate how much it’s working.
He didn’t even have to go to the crime department and force them to dig up info on you, you’ve already given it to him willingly like the idiot you are.
“I can kill everyone you love in a blink of an eye, Y/N. Don’t test me. I will make them suffer and you will watch.”
You gasp and a shaky hand clasps over your mouth, trying and failing to muffle the sounds of your hysterical wails.
“What do you think happened to those friends of yours, huh? I didn’t know I had to be keeping an eye out for the women too but that works out better - it will always be just the two of us. Do you understand me?”
He claps his hands with a resounding laugh before he stands up from the table and walks around until he reaches your end.
He waits behind you as his hands press down on your shoulders. A feather light touch but you know it must take a lot of self-control for him to not crush you beneath his fingers. Homelander bends down until his lips ghost the shell of your ear and you can feel a golden strand fall loose from its gelled back style and tickle your neck.
“So, whaddaya say? Will you be mine?” You don’t even need to turn around to see the smarmy grin that must be plastered on his face; consequences don’t exist for him and if he wants you, he will have you. He doesn’t wait for your answer before his lips dive to your neck, nipping and licking at the sensitive skin there in a way that’s meant to be seductive but just makes you dry heave instead.
His grip on your shoulders tightens ever so slightly and it jolts you into action, nodding ‘yes’ erratically as you sob out into the night where only the echoes of your cries and his lips on your neck can comfort you.
Your work-life balance is about to get fucked.