#earving

Seal of approval 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Black Noir x f!reader

main masterlist

contents: seals, accurate dialogue to show, seals, ashley is bsf, seals

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You stride toward the meeting room with Ashley, the sharp click of your heels echoing against the marble floor. A smile plays on your lips as you enter, but your grip tightens on the files in your hands. Working for The Seven as an assistant to the entire team certainly has its perks: an all-expenses-paid apartment, a cafeteria staffed by five-star Michelin chefs, and a weekly payroll that, if saved wisely, could almost buy the entire collection of Louboutins ever made. Of course, these luxuries come with a price—designed to keep you from quitting despite the dangers. Like, say, working for literal superheroes who might casually end you if you spill a drink on them.

"Hello everyone," Ashley greets the team, her smile wide but brittle—like painted-on armor. "The media analytics department just handed back our numbers. We need to push advertising harder."

She circles the V-shaped table, each step precise, placing a blue file before every member. You follow her lead, distributing files to the three on the left. When you reach Black Noir, you pause. His hand hovers over a sketch, and you set the file down with feather-light care, avoiding the paper entirely.

Then comes The Deep. His smirk cuts through the room as your fingers accidentally brush his. "Hey,” he murmurs. You don’t answer, but your grip tightens on the next file.

Translucent receives his with a nod, already scanning the pages. You return to Ashley, standing beside her as she leans into the next directive—her fake smile never faltering, but her knuckles whitening on the table’s edge.

"Each member of The Seven should play to their strengths—promote brands that resonate with them. That’s how you get real social media traction." Ashley nods sharply, her eyes locking onto you. "And beyond ads? When heroes back charities that matter to them? That’s how you hook new followers, land big deals—everything." You gesture around the table, voice dropping lower. "Take Homelander. Remember that retirement home campaign? Hashtags exploded. But we’re pivoting now."

A-Train leans back, scoffing. "Pivoting? After the disabled kids thing?"

Homelander’s jaw tightens. "That campaign was… problematic."

Ashley flips open the file, her smile brittle. "Yeah, we aren’t doing that again"

"Definitely not,” you say, eyes darting to Ashley then back to Homelander. "We’re moving away from that. But the retirement home? Pure gold. That’s the energy we need."

"We’ve got gold when it comes to Starlight," Ashley says, her finger tracing the air near Starlight’s silhouette. "Those Christian festivals? Masterstroke. Lean into that ‘innocent hero’ angle—watch how everything falls into place after she smiles,” She nudges your elbow, her grin sharp. "Just don’t tell them we’re using it as a propaganda tool”

"Oh, and Black Noir’s always lurking in tea shops or advocating for deaf children—boring stuff. We’re pivoting to something fresh: a dog rescue program. Noir’s got that ‘silent guardian’ vibe—perfect for saving pups." You grin, looking at Noir who’s head is tilted in interest.

Homelander barely looks up from his files. "What about collaborations? Fans eat that up."

"Already on it." Your smile widens. "The Oceanic Rescue and Release Program’s gonna blow up. Just imagine The Deep and Noir—patting baby harp seals on live TV? It’s absurd. It’s art."

Ashley nods slowly, “art” she echos.

The Deep scoffs, spinning his chair to face Homelander. "I love harp seals—they’re hilarious," he drawls, his tone dripping with wonder.

Homelander rolls his eyes, glancing between you and Ashley. "Well done, you two. Send me the details of all those openings—our team will handle it." His smile is wide.

You and Ashley exchange a glance, grabbing the files and stepping out of the room with forced calm. The moment the heavy doors shut behind you, Ashley pulls you into a tight hug. "Holy shit, that was amazing! You killed it!" She places her hands on your shoulders, grinning.

“I learned from the best, Ash." You smile back, interlocking arms with her as you two walk away.

"I mean, seal petting? I can’t believe you came up with that!" Ashley chuckles. "Genius!"

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"They smell really bad,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as a particularly pungent gust hits you. "I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, they live in the ocean and eat a shit ton of fish, but this? This is next-level." You shake your head slowly, eyes locking onto a seal bouncing past you on the ice.

“Hey, just open your eyes and close your nostrils—these creatures are intellects." The Deep says, perched on the edge of the icy pool. "Respect the flippers, okay? They’ve got survival instincts you wouldn’t believe."

Today was Opening Day for the Oceanic Rescue and Release Program, and you’d come early to meet the seals and wait for the camera crew. The animals were adorable—grunting as they flopped across the ice, their big eyes glimmering like wet pearls. You’d stuffed your hands deeper into your cardigan, already regretting your choice of pencil skirt and blouse the moment you’d stepped into the chilly enclosure. ‘Ashley was right,’ you thought, grateful she’d insisted you swap your designer heels for heeled boots.

Your gaze drifted to Black Noir, who’d crouched beside a particularly rotund seal, rubbing its belly with a tenderness that made your lips curve. "Look at him," you whispered. "He’s got a soft spot for these guys."

The Deep snorted. "Don’t let the suit fool you. He’s got a heart buried under all that muscle."

You smiled, watching the seal nuzzle Black Noir’s hand.

The enclosure door creaks open, revealing a worker whose wide smile lights up the space. "Cameras are here—let’s go see the pups!" he calls, his voice bubbling with excitement. You stay close to Noir, whose hand gently grips your arm, steadying you as you step inside. The Deep waves goodbye to the seals.

Your breath catches at the sight in the next room: tiny, white, and fluffy pups bounce toward you, their playful energy infectious.

"Oh my god, heaven is real," you whisper, crouching low as a curious seal sniffs your fingers. Its big, dark eyes lock onto yours, full of wonder.

The crew springs into action, setting up quickly as Noir lifts a pup with care, running his hand down its soft back. You remain crouched, feeding one with a bottle of milk while the two boys play with the animals. The Deep even teaches one to swim, kissing its forehead when it surfaces for air.

After capturing the footage of the baby seals, you three decide to let them rest. As you head toward the exit, the worker allows you a brief stroll around. Just before leaving, you instinctively grip Noir's wrist, beaming at him.

"They were so cute, and you were so kind with them!" you exclaim.

His dark mask turns away slightly after your compliment, leaving you flustered. You quickly release his wrist and follow The Deep, who’s already rattling off stories about a group of seals he once met—'just like those ones'—and how hilariously chaotic they were.

The Deep strides toward the massive glass window, his laughter echoing as he gestures wildly. “Check these seals out!” he booms, pointing at the water where older seals glide gracefully, their black-and-white swirls rippling like living art. You lean close to Black Noir, who stands rigid but for the subtle tremor in his shoulders—his silent laughter vibrating through your side as The Deep drones on about ribbon seals.

“Ribbon seals, huh?” you murmur, nudging Noir with your elbow.

“Yeah, met some a couple years ago… damn, they’re something else...” The Deep mumbles.

Your grin fades when a seal swims past, its pattern unmistakably resembling a certain historical figure. “Hey,” you whisper, voice tight with suppressed glee, “that one looks like hitler.”

The Deep pauses mid-rant, squinting. “Who? Wait—no. Don’t even go there.”

Noir’s arm tightens around your shoulders, his chuckle a low rumble. His thumb brushing your wrist—a fleeting warmth that makes your pulse stutter.

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After circling the building—listening to The Deep drone on about his personal interactions with sealife—you were ready to leave. Well, not really listening. Your focus? Black Noir’s hand in yours, squeezing softly every time he said “like” or “totally,” which made you bite back a giggle. You strode straight through the gift shop, stopping outside to call Vought for a ride back to the tower.

A moment later, The Deep appeared beside you, clutching a mug that read ‘I heart seals.’ You raised an eyebrow, and he immediately pulled it away, shaking his head. “Gotta support the cause… for my buddies,” he said defensively.

You nodded slowly. “You mean the seals?”

He scoffed as if it was common knowledge. “Who else would I mean?”

The black SUV pulled up, and he headed toward it immediately. You look around when you realise you’re one supe short.

“Noir?”

A soft footstep behind you made you whirl. Black Noir stood there, one hand behind his back. You smile, tilting your head. “Bought something?” you asked softly. He nodded once and brought his hand forward—a small, fluffy white plush of a baby harp seal. Your eyes widened. “That’s so cute!” He nodded again, pushing it toward you. “For me?” Your smile grew as he nodded once more. You took the plush, studying it before meeting his gaze. “I love it, thank you.” You hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his arms encircling your waist.

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The car glides through the rain-soaked streets, headlights painting golden ribbons on wet pavement. You rest your head against Black Noir’s shoulder, the seal plush cradled in your hands.

The driver’s voice is soft in the rearview mirror: “How was it?”

“Best day ever,” you whisper, lifting your gaze to meet Noir’s. His gloved hand finds yours, fingers weaving together.

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DON'T TOUCH MAH CHILD!!!!!!!!!

It's really annoying that Noir II forgot he could fly and didn't try to fight back because he would have killed The Deep in seconds if he locked in. It's a shame that this season completely disregarded the past between Black Noir and Soldier Boy and didn't have SB acknowledge the replacement to the very Noir Homelander claimed he killed. It would have caused him serious PTSD but it was shelved in favour of this V1 plot and for Stormfront which is just meh but I digress. It's tragic that Justin's story has to end the same way as Earving's who never got a chance to get his revenge because his life was taken from him. Justin at least got to use his voice to mock and belittle The Deep before his death while Earving didn't have a voice. The Deep tried to emulate those around him like Homelander and Soldier Boy and it led to him losing his best friend because of his sheer jealousy.

The Deep killing Noir II parallels the way Homelander killed the first Noir because they were both seeking the approval of more powerful figures they were afraid of. A-Train literally points out this hypocrisy when he mentions how Homelander killed the first Noir and how The Deep is afraid of Homelander. The Deep is literally fucking over those around him including Noir to earn Homelander's approval and he has fully stepped into his leader's shoes by being the one to kill him. The Deep is becoming Homelander because he has fully embraced violence as a tool to take power over weak individuals and the reason he has survived so long is because he is a cockroach who gets away with fucking people over (him sexually assaulting Starlight in S1, killing sea creatures like eating Timothy and Ambrosia). He is a pathetic joke that gets every opportunity to change but he tries to get redemption but he falls one step short and always ends up back in the shithole where he started compared to A-Train who learns from his mistakes and dies genuinely changed for the better because he stood up to Homelander right to his face. The Deep tried to measure his dick up to Soldier Boy because he felt threatened by his masculinity and now he essentially stepped into his role when it came to hurting Noir. The Deep is someone who will never change and he deserves to die a pathetic death for trying to become the people he is afraid of.

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“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with a new fic, yes I was gone for like 5 months or 3 or smth. This idea was inspired by @sinclairdoll, and his idea, here! I#bringbacktheoldnoir

WARNING: angst, sad, tw!new noir.

PAIRING: Black Noir x reader

WORD COUNTER: 865

1984. Nicaragua.

La operación y prueba de supers en la milicia de Vought estaba en mitad del proceso, o más bien, a punto de terminar.

Payback, hartos de los abusos incansables de Soldier Boy, decidieron dar el golpe final y traicionarlo, comandados por Black Noir.

Pese a que los golpes fueron brutales y que fue una pelea de 5 vs 1, Soldier Boy tenía la ventaja, era mucho más fuerte que los demás juntos. Los arrojó como bolsas de basura, dejándolos fuera de combate un momento; el único que no cedió fue el mismo Black Noir, uno de los que más abusos recibía de él. Se abalanzó al soldado, a penas logrando conectar un par de golpes. Pronto descubriría su gran error.

Pulse, recuperándose del fuerte golpe que Soldier Boy le propinó en la cara, vio horrorizada como el soldado tomaba a Earving, su amado, del cuello y lo azotó contra una camioneta militar en llamas.

— ¡¡NO!!

El grito de Pulse fue casi inmediatamente cubierto por los gritos de dolor de Black Noir quien, sin máscara ahora, recibió quemaduras de segundo y tercer grado en la mitad de su rostro. No conforme, Soldier Boy descargó su ira hacia él: levantó su escudo en alto con ambas manos, y entonces, le golpeó el cráneo.

Una.

Dos.

Tres.

A la cuarta, el cráneo de Earving se había abierto como un cascarón de huevo.

— ¡¡Déjalo en paz!!

Pulse se arrojó contra Soldier Boy, poniéndole las manos en la cara intentando hacer que Soldier Boy sintiera arrepentimiento, tristeza, cansancio; cualquier cosa que pudiera incapacitarlo, pero no había nada, en ese hombre castaño solo existía un odio inmensurable a todo su equipo.

— ¡¡Bajate, maldita perra!!

Él la tomó de la capa, arrancándose la de un tirón y haciéndola perder el equilibrio. La tiró al suelo con fuerza, golpeándola a puño limpio dos veces en el rostro.

— Son unos malditos desagradecidos! Gracias a mi ustedes dos se unieron a este equipo!! Gracias a mi ustedes dos salieron de la puta alcantarilla de la que salieron!!

Pulse, aterrada, se arrastró hacia Black Noir que estaba agonizando en el suelo. Lo abrazó, lo apretó contra ella con fuerza, quizás su única forma de sentir seguridad ante la amenaza de muerte que tenía enfrente.

Justo cuando Soldier Boy estuvo a punto de levantar el escudo de nuevo para darle el mismo destino a Pulse...

Un golpe seco alejó a Soldier Boy, quien giró la cabeza, encontrándose desafortunadamente con la mirada hipnótica de Mindstorm, confundiendolo; seguido, Crimson Countess apareció con una mascarilla de Novichok, un gas que rápidamente invadió los pulmones del hombre hasta que, al fin, cayó al suelo.

El infierno había acabado para Payback. Los rusos se llevaron a Soldier Boy sin mediar palabra.

Todos estaban heridos, pero Black Noir...

Pulse lloraba mientras lo abrazaba, intentaba hacerlo sentir calma, pero ni siquiera ella podía controlar sus poderes debido a la fuerte situación que habían vivido. Earving, a penas consciente, levantó la mano, tembloroso, tratando de acariciarle el rostro, pero en cambio solamente salió un gesto que pronto cayó al suelo.

Pulse lloró a mares, y pronto empezó a gritar por ayuda a sus compañeros.

El infierno había acabado para Payback... pero uno nuevo había empezado para Black Noir...

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Momento loreeeeee!!!

Dios! Amé hacer esto!! Tanto el dibujo como el escrito!!!