Work Text:
It was all for you, always for you.
Flowers on the dining room table for no other reason than you thought they were pretty, signed nice and pretty from yours truly, Homelander. Your favourite song playing softly over the speakers, just because he knew you liked it. A table at the fanciest place in town, all for you.
He was willing to do anything for you. He’d made that more than clear. Though, you hadn't entirely comprehended how literal that had been.
Only now, as you stood in shock at the gruesome scene in front of you, did it finally register. A splatter of viscera had begun to slide down your cheek, a trail of blood dripping from the clump of... whatever had landed on you. A river of red tracked down your face, pooling in the corner of your mouth. The metallic tang mingled into your saliva, breaking you from the trance you had gotten lost in. The first feeling that registered was the nausea that rose up, up, up from that impossibly deep pit in your stomach. It felt near impossible to tear your eyes from the indistinguishable mess of charred and mangled flesh that, only seconds ago, had brushed their knuckles against yours so gently. The sweet smile they had given you replaced now by a permanent look of agony, their jaw hanging open grotesquely. When you finally forced your head up and lifted your gaze, he stood proudly, waiting expectantly for your reaction like a cat dropping a mouse at its owner’s feet.
His triumphant smirk faltered at the sound of you dry heaving into the palm of your hand, and it fell completely upon seeing the growing green on your face. You just mustn’t be used to such bloodshed. The first time is always the hardest. He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to you.
“Come here,” he chuckled, beckoning you closer across the puddle of carnage seeping into the gravel. Yet you didn’t move. Not an inch. You just stood there staring at him with glassy eyes. “Come here,” he repeated, suddenly stern. His beckoning hand reached over, grabbing at your arms, and forcefully pulled you over instead. A horrible squelching came from under your feet as you lurched forward in his grasp. Something caught on your foot on the way over, entrails had looped over your shoe in your stride. A yelp tore from your throat as you fell into his chest. Instead of sinking into his embrace, you couldn’t get away from him quick enough. Your pathetic little noise of shock quickly devolved into hysterics. You were all hyperventilating and gasping sobs as you slipped around on the pooling blood trying to rid yourself of the writhing organ around your foot.
“What are you doing?” Homelander asked, rolling his eyes at your performance. He motioned out to you, baffled by your ingratitude. “What- what’s wrong?”
You managed to stifle the retching building in your throat to splutter wildly, your voice breaking on a cry with each syllable. “Why? Why did you do this?”
He paused, eyes wide in surprise at your sudden outburst. Confusion and shock painted his face. His mouth hung open dumbly. His lips smacked open and closed, no real sound escaping them, as he stared in disbelief at your utter disgust. What kind of question was that? Wasn’t it obvious? Where were your thanks? Your appreciation? He saw them! He saw them touching you! He didn’t need super-senses to know the bastard was trying to flirt with you. Anyone a mile away could see the way their lingering touches cried out 'Come home with me!'
“I saw them touching you, I heard-“ he blurted, feeling an all too familiar frustration bubbling up within him. All his efforts gone to waste on ungrateful bastards milking all the love he had to give into whatever black hole that was their hearts. For years! All those selfish, greedy ingrates swallowed up everything he did just to ask for more.
But you had been different.
You had given more than he knew he could have and, not once, did he have to take. You just gave and gave and gave, and you loved and loved and loved. You did it all in the simple things, in listening to him and not just hearing but understanding. So why? Why couldn’t you understand this?
“You killed them!”
“For you!” His voice had never been more strained. His weakness bounced off the walls, loud and feeble. The sound hit his ears, and he recoiled, his chest tight with heaving breaths. “I did that-“ He punctuated his words with sharp points, his finger jabbing at the mangled corpse between you. “-for you!”
You froze, suddenly acutely aware of the blood clinging to your skin - the blood that was now on your hands. Homelander’s words echoed in your mind, ringing off the walls into a swirling maelstrom in your mind. He continued to seethe before you. His love twisted into something vile and monstrous, something altogether violent and meek. There was malice in his care, a cruel vindictiveness in each kiss, that you hadn’t seen before - not until now. Not until you watched his hands shake, gesturing wildly towards the lifeless body strewn across the floor, could you feel the gross obsession in his devotion. Your hands trembled at the gnarled scene of loyalty you found yourself in.
He would do anything for you. If that meant killing a thousand times over, he was more than willing. In the name of protecting you, he would would slaughter the masses in a heartbeat. A million lives could never compare to yours. His love knew no bounds, no morals. You know that now. It was all, always, for you.