🌌Lyds🌌

To a point that you’re just grateful to all the powers at play that he’s still next to you today.

But you understand wanting things to feel normal. At your usual pace. Like the whole world hasn’t witnessed… well, that. So with a soft, sweet smile you let him have this. Letting him push you on top of the bed sent a little thrill up your spine. His strength could never compare to what it used to be and yet that’s the best part. You’re mindful enough to understand that he’s not ready to hear that you prefer him this way.

His strength is no longer a threat, it’s a thing you get to enjoy without that tiny flicker of doubt at the level of fine control he possesses. If somebody asks you? This is your happy ending. With the dirty, infectious claws of Vought dislodged from his shoulders, you can finally breathe again.

You just want him to see it that way too.

But it’s not that simple on the other side—you’re sympathetic to that.

You thought starting with kissing was a good idea, he’s always been fond of the act. Being stripped of his powers doesn’t take the joy of the mundane away. The kisses started off slow. Cautious of his bruised skin you didn’t pull him in the way you usually would. So you let him lead the pace, let him lie on top of you kissing you delicately as if you were the injured one.

Eventually he slides off you to get a better angle as his hand slips down your body.

You whine pretty for him when he kisses your neck with tongue and teeth, his smile tactile against your skin. That’s when you loosen up. The worry of what he built this moment up to is gone—you just get to enjoy the feeling of his lips on your skin and his hand down your body.

Homelander’s hand slips under your pyjama shorts and lucky for him you’ve already forgoed underwear. You sigh when his fingers dip into the centre of you, wetting them before coming back up to rub your clit.

“Mhm, that feels really nice.” Your breathy tone should tell him everything he needs to know.

It does feel really nice. You melt into the mattress, enjoying the pleasurable tingles migrating into every limb. Once Homelander stops kissing you, instead focusing mental energy on how his fingers play your tune, you turn your head to the side, kissing his unbruised shoulder before lying it back down again to close your eyes.

He feels great—just like usual—but it’s not the rushed dizzying pace he used to put you through. This feels like a fantastic massage more than a race to an orgasm.

You like it that way. Homelander less so.

It’s dark—he insisted on it—so you barely see when the issue starts, let alone when it turns into a full-blown meltdown.

His hand stills, pointer finger tapping your clit in slow succession.

“I–uh—I used to be good at this.” Your eyes shoot open and your head snaps to your right.

“What?”

“Making you feel good. I used to… I used to be able to feel you better. Every pulse, every breath. It’s—it was—second nature. I could hear your heartbeat riight here.” He taps your clit again, almost disappointed. You can only imagine the face he’s put on.

All the pleasure drains from your system. You don’t know how to approach this. 

He lets out a humourless chuckle, “I used to be able to look through you and find exactly where to touch you.”

You can’t help but snort, “I wish you hadn’t done that.” That was the wrong thing to say. You see him snap his head to you. One choked-up breath is enough to sink a heavy weight in your gut. 

“Well thank fuck you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His voice caught in his throat, soft and vulnerable.

“Homelander—oh baby, no no no, that is not what I meant.” You pull yourself up, leaning over to click the bedside lamp on while his hand slides off your body and with a soft thud it hits the bedding. Homelander sits up.

“Hey look at me,” you put your hand on his arm after he angrily wipes his tears. “Do you think I’m not enjoying myself? Or that you’re—that you’re not… enough?”

Your hand goes up to hold his jaw, softly rubbing below the cut on his cheek. The residual tracks of his tears wet your thumb.

He looks away from you, your hand is left hanging in the air. He turns his body, legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You’ve always been… ecstatic, euphoric, over the fucking moon anytime we fucked. But that’s gone, huh? I’m no longer a god. I never was.” He visibly swallows, his chest heaves with a sob.

“You know I’ve never cared for power.” Softly you slide up behind him, arms wrapping around his torso from behind with slow motion—testing the waters if he’ll let you.

He does. You press a lingering kiss against his spine.

“I love being with you, and I always will. You don’t need your senses to touch me right. You’ve done it a million times. It’s muscle memory. Today may have just been a little too fast for us.”

He huffs a dry laugh. “Maybe not a million.”

You take the moment of lightness and nuzzle your face into his back. He’s wearing an old tattered T-shirt you found in the closet. You really need to get him to pick some nice clothing he’ll like.

“Alright, smartass, plenty enough.” You smile against his back and kiss him there again.

You sit like this in silence for a while.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, you know? I know I’m useless but you’re still not stronger than me.” He sniffs a little bit but you can tell he’s getting some of his voice back.

“You’re not useless.”

“Right.” His scoff is sharp, accusatory.

“Your strength, your senses, any of it… it’s not why I’m with you. Them being gone isn’t a loss for me, it’s just different.”

“Yeah, different bad.”

“No. Just different. Things will have to change, but I’m happy to have you. Can you turn around for me honey?” You sit back a bit to give him the space, relieved when he turns around and pulls his legs back on the bed, facing you.

“I love you. No matter what. No matter how this changes our lives, you have me.” Your hands naturally itch to hold his face again, but the quiver of his lip makes you act further. So you lean into him, hands sneaking under his arms as they bring him into a hug.

Oh, how it feels good to feel him against you. Still alive. Still there with you. You feel the burn of brimming tears but you blink them away. Rubbing his back takes your attention away from the pain of what could have been.

“I love you so much.” You say it again, your lips speak close to his ear before you rest your head back on his shoulder. Homelander puts his arms around you too, squeezing you softly as if you could still shatter under his hands. If it makes him happy you don’t mind playing along with his fantasy.

“We don’t have to do anything today. Let’s take it slow and wait for it, okay?” He pulls away, near offended.

“B-but—I want to. I want to… feel something good. I want to make you feel good. Like I used to.”

“You still do. You’ve never stopped.” You reassure him, pulling on this hand and pressing it in between your breasts. “You may not hear it anymore but you can feel it, can’t you?” Your heart rate is slightly elevated.

“You can feel me like this. Like you used to.”

His hand presses into you gently, feeling your heart rate. 

He nods shakily, this gesture means something to him. You understand why his powers felt like such an innate part of him. What do you do when you feel like you’ve lost all your senses? Anything that felt even remotely like you? You don’t know, but you’re sure as hell gonna find out for him. With him.

Homelander kisses you with shocking passion. It steals the breath right out of your lungs. His hand stays firmly pressed against your ribcage, hungry lips devouring your words of adoration. Just like the hug and the hand over your heart you let him. You want him to have this.

Part of you feels relieved. In the couple days since the event, things have been rocky—rightfully so. To see just a glimmer of his confidence back fills you with so much excitement you can’t help but grin into his kiss.

Your heart rate is going up, winded from the gasping breathy kisses. He feels it too. He doesn’t need his super senses. You’re gonna teach him how to use the tools he has at his disposal just to feel even a sliver like himself.

Anything it takes.

“I want to—Can I?” He sounds desperate, just like the many times he has before. The fact that he can even think that you don’t see him the same way you did before is crazy. It’s never been about the powers, or godhood. It’s always been just him. 

The slow mornings rolling around in bed, just talking lazily about the world, about plans, and the future—bright visions of your life together. You used to talk about the colours you’d paint the walls of the living room, or the pictures you’d put up along the staircase. 

Or the romantic or passionate evenings, nights spent clutching the sheets or holding onto each other. The jokes and the laughs, the meaningful conversations. Even the coworker gossiping sessions. You loved everything that had to do with spending time together.

The powers never played a role. You’ll just have to show him how to wield his new ones. While mundane in his eyes, you still see him as extraordinary. And that didn’t happen thanks to a title change nor his power set.

“Yes. Yes you can.” 

He goes to take off your top, discarding the garment off to the side. Homelander’s lips go down from your neck to in between your breasts. You expect him to latch onto your nipples for comfort but he stays there, kissing the soft skin in between your breasts. You stroke the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair. 

Once his fingers reach the hem of your shorts, he stops, pulls back and looks at you with an expression so uncertain it makes your heart ache.

“What if I don’t know how anymore?”

It’s a silly worry to have but you understand the underlying question. All the what ifs are swimming in his mind, thinking ‘what if you won’t love me the way I am anymore?’

Homelander’s always been a master at drowning his sorrows in pleasure. Any fight you’ve ever had ended up getting solved through touch and affection, however heated at the time.

He reduces his value to numbers. Score on a leaderboard. Stats on a supe sheet. Just how Vought tracked his yearly revenue, he tracks the numerical value he brings to your life.

But he’s always been so much more than that. And you will spend the rest of your life making him believe it.

“Then we’ll learn together.” And you mean it. With all the hiccups and blockades on the way.

You shimmy out of your shorts, feeling confident when his lips part, taking in a little gasp.

“Let me, baby.” You tug at his sleeping shirt, letting him take it off.

“Let me make us feel good.” Hands sliding down his fuzzy chest, over his soft tummy and down to his underwear. He’s already half-hard. Instinctually your hand squeezes him through the fabric, enjoying the lewd little moan he lets out.

He’s so sweet when he lets you treat him for once. Giving up the power, the status, and the performance for the sake of something real.

With his help, you pull his underwear down, giving his cock a couple of strokes before you sit over his lap and guide him right to your wet entrance. It’s so good to feel him in you again. It feels right. Being as close to him as humanly possible has always been essential—now more than ever.

You fully sink down on his lap with a happy sigh. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ground yourself in the reality that is his warm body holding yours. After the nightmares you’ve had, you’ll take any reminder that he’s still here.

You don’t move. The light is still on and you can see every injury out in the open. Even when vulnerable, he’s beautiful—because he’s yours. Your fingers silently trace featherlight lines across his face. You don’t notice yourself smiling until he mirrors your expression.

That smile alone tells you that it will all be okay, regardless of how long it takes to get there.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

To a point that you’re just grateful to all the powers at play that he’s still next to you today.

But you understand wanting things to feel normal. At your usual pace. Like the whole world hasn’t witnessed… well, that. So with a soft, sweet smile you let him have this. Letting him push you on top of the bed sent a little thrill up your spine. His strength could never compare to what it used to be and yet that’s the best part. You’re mindful enough to understand that he’s not ready to hear that you prefer him this way.

His strength is no longer a threat, it’s a thing you get to enjoy without that tiny flicker of doubt at the level of fine control he possesses. If somebody asks you? This is your happy ending. With the dirty, infectious claws of Vought dislodged from his shoulders, you can finally breathe again.

You just want him to see it that way too.

But it’s not that simple on the other side—you’re sympathetic to that.

You thought starting with kissing was a good idea, he’s always been fond of the act. Being stripped of his powers doesn’t take the joy of the mundane away. The kisses started off slow. Cautious of his bruised skin you didn’t pull him in the way you usually would. So you let him lead the pace, let him lie on top of you kissing you delicately as if you were the injured one.

Eventually he slides off you to get a better angle as his hand slips down your body.

You whine pretty for him when he kisses your neck with tongue and teeth, his smile tactile against your skin. That’s when you loosen up. The worry of what he built this moment up to is gone—you just get to enjoy the feeling of his lips on your skin and his hand down your body.

Homelander’s hand slips under your pyjama shorts and lucky for him you’ve already forgoed underwear. You sigh when his fingers dip into the centre of you, wetting them before coming back up to rub your clit.

“Mhm, that feels really nice.” Your breathy tone should tell him everything he needs to know.

It does feel really nice. You melt into the mattress, enjoying the pleasurable tingles migrating into every limb. Once Homelander stops kissing you, instead focusing mental energy on how his fingers play your tune, you turn your head to the side, kissing his unbruised shoulder before lying it back down again to close your eyes.

He feels great—just like usual—but it’s not the rushed dizzying pace he used to put you through. This feels like a fantastic massage more than a race to an orgasm.

You like it that way. Homelander less so.

It’s dark—he insisted on it—so you barely see when the issue starts, let alone when it turns into a full-blown meltdown.

His hand stills, pointer finger tapping your clit in slow succession.

“I–uh—I used to be good at this.” Your eyes shoot open and your head snaps to your right.

“What?”

“Making you feel good. I used to… I used to be able to feel you better. Every pulse, every breath. It’s—it was—second nature. I could hear your heartbeat riight here.” He taps your clit again, almost disappointed. You can only imagine the face he’s put on.

All the pleasure drains from your system. You don’t know how to approach this. 

He lets out a humourless chuckle, “I used to be able to look through you and find exactly where to touch you.”

You can’t help but snort, “I wish you hadn’t done that.” That was the wrong thing to say. You see him snap his head to you. One choked-up breath is enough to sink a heavy weight in your gut. 

“Well thank fuck you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His voice caught in his throat, soft and vulnerable.

“Homelander—oh baby, no no no, that is not what I meant.” You pull yourself up, leaning over to click the bedside lamp on while his hand slides off your body and with a soft thud it hits the bedding. Homelander sits up.

“Hey look at me,” you put your hand on his arm after he angrily wipes his tears. “Do you think I’m not enjoying myself? Or that you’re—that you’re not… enough?”

Your hand goes up to hold his jaw, softly rubbing below the cut on his cheek. The residual tracks of his tears wet your thumb.

He looks away from you, your hand is left hanging in the air. He turns his body, legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You’ve always been… ecstatic, euphoric, over the fucking moon anytime we fucked. But that’s gone, huh? I’m no longer a god. I never was.” He visibly swallows, his chest heaves with a sob.

“You know I’ve never cared for power.” Softly you slide up behind him, arms wrapping around his torso from behind with slow motion—testing the waters if he’ll let you.

He does. You press a lingering kiss against his spine.

“I love being with you, and I always will. You don’t need your senses to touch me right. You’ve done it a million times. It’s muscle memory. Today may have just been a little too fast for us.”

He huffs a dry laugh. “Maybe not a million.”

You take the moment of lightness and nuzzle your face into his back. He’s wearing an old tattered T-shirt you found in the closet. You really need to get him to pick some nice clothing he’ll like.

“Alright, smartass, plenty enough.” You smile against his back and kiss him there again.

You sit like this in silence for a while.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, you know? I know I’m useless but you’re still not stronger than me.” He sniffs a little bit but you can tell he’s getting some of his voice back.

“You’re not useless.”

“Right.” His scoff is sharp, accusatory.

“Your strength, your senses, any of it… it’s not why I’m with you. Them being gone isn’t a loss for me, it’s just different.”

“Yeah, different bad.”

“No. Just different. Things will have to change, but I’m happy to have you. Can you turn around for me honey?” You sit back a bit to give him the space, relieved when he turns around and pulls his legs back on the bed, facing you.

“I love you. No matter what. No matter how this changes our lives, you have me.” Your hands naturally itch to hold his face again, but the quiver of his lip makes you act further. So you lean into him, hands sneaking under his arms as they bring him into a hug.

Oh, how it feels good to feel him against you. Still alive. Still there with you. You feel the burn of brimming tears but you blink them away. Rubbing his back takes your attention away from the pain of what could have been.

“I love you so much.” You say it again, your lips speak close to his ear before you rest your head back on his shoulder. Homelander puts his arms around you too, squeezing you softly as if you could still shatter under his hands. If it makes him happy you don’t mind playing along with his fantasy.

“We don’t have to do anything today. Let’s take it slow and wait for it, okay?” He pulls away, near offended.

“B-but—I want to. I want to… feel something good. I want to make you feel good. Like I used to.”

“You still do. You’ve never stopped.” You reassure him, pulling on this hand and pressing it in between your breasts. “You may not hear it anymore but you can feel it, can’t you?” Your heart rate is slightly elevated.

“You can feel me like this. Like you used to.”

His hand presses into you gently, feeling your heart rate. 

He nods shakily, this gesture means something to him. You understand why his powers felt like such an innate part of him. What do you do when you feel like you’ve lost all your senses? Anything that felt even remotely like you? You don’t know, but you’re sure as hell gonna find out for him. With him.

Homelander kisses you with shocking passion. It steals the breath right out of your lungs. His hand stays firmly pressed against your ribcage, hungry lips devouring your words of adoration. Just like the hug and the hand over your heart you let him. You want him to have this.

Part of you feels relieved. In the couple days since the event, things have been rocky—rightfully so. To see just a glimmer of his confidence back fills you with so much excitement you can’t help but grin into his kiss.

Your heart rate is going up, winded from the gasping breathy kisses. He feels it too. He doesn’t need his super senses. You’re gonna teach him how to use the tools he has at his disposal just to feel even a sliver like himself.

Anything it takes.

“I want to—Can I?” He sounds desperate, just like the many times he has before. The fact that he can even think that you don’t see him the same way you did before is crazy. It’s never been about the powers, or godhood. It’s always been just him. 

The slow mornings rolling around in bed, just talking lazily about the world, about plans, and the future—bright visions of your life together. You used to talk about the colours you’d paint the walls of the living room, or the pictures you’d put up along the staircase. 

Or the romantic or passionate evenings, nights spent clutching the sheets or holding onto each other. The jokes and the laughs, the meaningful conversations. Even the coworker gossiping sessions. You loved everything that had to do with spending time together.

The powers never played a role. You’ll just have to show him how to wield his new ones. While mundane in his eyes, you still see him as extraordinary. And that didn’t happen thanks to a title change nor his power set.

“Yes. Yes you can.” 

He goes to take off your top, discarding the garment off to the side. Homelander’s lips go down from your neck to in between your breasts. You expect him to latch onto your nipples for comfort but he stays there, kissing the soft skin in between your breasts. You stroke the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair. 

Once his fingers reach the hem of your shorts, he stops, pulls back and looks at you with an expression so uncertain it makes your heart ache.

“What if I don’t know how anymore?”

It’s a silly worry to have but you understand the underlying question. All the what ifs are swimming in his mind, thinking ‘what if you won’t love me the way I am anymore?’

Homelander’s always been a master at drowning his sorrows in pleasure. Any fight you’ve ever had ended up getting solved through touch and affection, however heated at the time.

He reduces his value to numbers. Score on a leaderboard. Stats on a supe sheet. Just how Vought tracked his yearly revenue, he tracks the numerical value he brings to your life.

But he’s always been so much more than that. And you will spend the rest of your life making him believe it.

“Then we’ll learn together.” And you mean it. With all the hiccups and blockades on the way.

You shimmy out of your shorts, feeling confident when his lips part, taking in a little gasp.

“Let me, baby.” You tug at his sleeping shirt, letting him take it off.

“Let me make us feel good.” Hands sliding down his fuzzy chest, over his soft tummy and down to his underwear. He’s already half-hard. Instinctually your hand squeezes him through the fabric, enjoying the lewd little moan he lets out.

He’s so sweet when he lets you treat him for once. Giving up the power, the status, and the performance for the sake of something real.

With his help, you pull his underwear down, giving his cock a couple of strokes before you sit over his lap and guide him right to your wet entrance. It’s so good to feel him in you again. It feels right. Being as close to him as humanly possible has always been essential—now more than ever.

You fully sink down on his lap with a happy sigh. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ground yourself in the reality that is his warm body holding yours. After the nightmares you’ve had, you’ll take any reminder that he’s still here.

You don’t move. The light is still on and you can see every injury out in the open. Even when vulnerable, he’s beautiful—because he’s yours. Your fingers silently trace featherlight lines across his face. You don’t notice yourself smiling until he mirrors your expression.

That smile alone tells you that it will all be okay, regardless of how long it takes to get there.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

Origins

Miranda Reinslayer was raised in the Vought Labs by a young Madeline Stillwell with other many young supers. The experiment on her wasn't that brutal, only injections of compound V to test the effects. She bonded a lot with a super younger than her, his name is Lesh (Leonardo) Estacado.

Miranda believes she was born in Vought's labs, but like many other newborns she was actually delivered to the laboratories by her own mother. Because they would give her a better future. Her original name was Diana Offman, later changed to Miranda to erase her family connection.

She developed metal tendons in his arms, they act as a magnet to control the metals around her. Due to an injection that was too powerful, her vocal cords were transformed into shiny metal; everyone thought she would die, but she only developed an extraordinary, unique ability to sing.

Miranda and Lesh attend classes at Godolkin University remotely, and only show up in person a few days a year. When she was still in training to learn how to use her powers, she once escaped from the labs and found herself in a theater at Vought spectacles floor. To avoid being caught by scientists, she climbed onto the mezzanine floor above the stage, and after a scare due to someone in the darkness of that place, she fell down. Feeling the void under her, she developed vertigo and the fear of great heights.

At the age of 25 she was introduced into the Sevens, when Lamplighter left his place empty.

Her format is to embody the woman desired by the public, the Vought vintage and fascinating pin-up, she received the name of Ophera, because her mask was inspired by a victorian novel. She manages to find a modest job in Vought even for his dear friend Lesh. Who will be renamed again as Illuminatio, a superhero magician with telekinesis abilities. The company creates the name ''The Magic Duo'' for when they work together, sing and perform, their format becomes very popular famous.

Season 1

After Starlight's entry into the team and Translucent's disappearance, Ophera continues to work in the Seven, maintaining a good and neutral relationships with everyone, his musical career grows worldwide.

As also happened in the past to the other women on the team, Homelander tries to exploit her popularity as his own advantage, and during an interview admits that him and Ophera are dating.

Ophera is not at all happy about the revelation, her nature makes her independent and difficult to capture, but she's forced by her contract to continue the show and pretend to be the perfect girlfriend. In private she suffers quite a few abuses from him. He likes to keep her close, play with her fears, he teases her, picking her up and lifting her off the ground as he flies, and she's terrified because she doesn't trust him. She thinks he'll make her fall. The he started enjoy her body way too much, at first, these encounters aren't entirely consensual; she tolerates him and stays the night when requested, but the truth is that she slowly gets used to this too, in order to survive.

Madeline dies and leaves her place empty at Vought.

Ophera sees some of Homelander's weaknesses and decides that she would take the reins of the situation, foolishly ambitious, she thinks she can manipulate him to make her life more tolerable. So, she begins to be gentle and more caring towards him, and the two inevitably bond. The farce of the false couple soon becomes a twisted romance, where it is difficult to distinguish reality from fiction.

There are no romantic feelings on her part, just a strange and sincere affection that she cannot deny. On the contrary, he begins to demonstrate some sort of dependence. They continue to live together as team mates, bed friends, teasing each other in every possible situation.

Season 2

Homelander and Ophera starts cover up crimes together. His brutal methods and desire for power influence Ophera and she becomes even more greedy and ambitious. She even kill another super during a competition, just because he wanted to take her place in the Seven.

Illuminatio, after that, begins to see something rotten in Vought's intentions and threatens to expose their experiments on kids like him and his beloved Ophera. Discovering that the relationship between her and Homelander is nothing more than a show for the cameras, and she's forced to have an intimate relationship with him, he wants to free her, he would do anything for her, even a wicked gesture. During a theatre show he threatens to kill some spectators and is brutally killed by Homelander in front of the whole team.

Days after, Ophera refuse to talk or see Homelander, and he realize he's now too romantically involved because her absence is tormenting him. Devastated by the loss of Illuminatio, but in need to approval from her fans requiring her to go on stage, Ophera must save people inside a skyscraper that risk to collapse after a bomb explodes, Homelander intervenes and joins her on the ongoing mission. But his intentions are less noble than expected. Feeling that he has become too attached to her, he thinks she is a danger for his position and mental stability, so uses his lasers to try to kill her. Causing the entire building to collapse.

She is presumed dead, and receives a public funeral. Stormfront takes her place on the team.

Season 3

After a long period spent hiding among normal people and healing her wounds, thanks to the complicity of Starlight, Ophera joins the Boys team, interested in getting her revenge. The white mask that she has always worn only for beauty and because of her costume, now serves firmly on her face to hide the big burning scar that Homelander's laser left on the right side of her face.

She works with the team to create the perfect opportunity to take Homelander down, but often end arguing with Butcher and Soldier Boy. On the contrary, she gets along very well with Kimiko, the girl loves when Ophera hums her old songs in some lonely moments.

I won't go into detail about the Herogasm event. But know that it's a quite familiar place for her, and she knows perfectly well how to access it. Many are surprised to see her around again. During that event she meets Homelander for a moment, and he almost doesn't recognize her due to her scar, he's surprised to see her alive, but also he appears somewhat disgusted by her actual appearance.

During the battle at the Vought tower, where she can let go of all the anger she's been holding in for months, she finds herself saving Ryan from some pieces of heavy metal that were about to fall on him. After that, she loses consciousness due to a fight with Homelander. And her body disappears again, not even the Boys know where she ended up.

Season 4

When she wakes up, she's in a hospital bed, with half her face bandaged and no idea how she ended up there. A single word from Ryan, that he feels grateful to her for being saved, was enough for his father, to spare her and decide to operated to give her back her beautiful face.

Initially she refuses, categorically not wanting to return to work for the Vought. But she is asked to return to singing on stage, to enjoy the crowds, being under the spotlight and leave the miserable life she was doing outside Seven. Greedy for power, ambitious, feeling cornered by Homelander and Ashley, she finally gives in and agrees to return to the team. And it makes her spectacular return, gaining even more popularity than before.

After the massacre committed by Homelander in the laboratory where he grew up, where Ophera is going to discover how much she forgot from her childhood a dear friend of hers reveals her the fact that her real mother would like to meet her. Miranda refuse completely the idea of having another name (as already mentioned, Diana), and and temporarily, decides not to meet the woman who gave birth to her.

Her relationship with Homelander isn't over. The fans are still crazy for them, and like a old bad habit, the two are once again involved in sharing penthouse and nights together. Ophera can't let go of him, and he desperately seeks her forgiveness, seeming genuinely intent on behave for her. He'll do anything to make her happy, even making a fool of himself at times. And Ophera begins to see the real John, a man who only wants to be loved and appreciated. Her heart begins to melt, and she indulges in more romantic and gentle moments.

Ophera will remain partially faithful to the Boys group for a little period, before choosing Vought once again, moved by the strange love she feels for Homelander. Despite the bad relationship that develops between her and Sister Sage, a constant contest for control of Homelander's mind, in which Firecracker also tries to play her part. Ophera becomes almost protective of Homelander while the other two women are with him. But the truth is, it's jealousy. She's earned the love of the most powerful man in the world, and no one will take that privilege away from her.

Now she can't deny her unhealthy desire towards Homelander and to be a successful woman once again, she wants to be The American Sweetheart again. And she fell once again for the dark side, interrupting any kind of contact with the Boys after learning what Butcher did to Victoria Newman and the fact that someone is developing a virus to kill superheroes.

At the end of the season their relationship is settled. He trust her with his own life and she started accepting some feelings she didn't think she could feel for him. Everything went well for some time, and for the first time they managed to live like a normal VIP couple.

Season 5

Homelander talks about becoming God, starts to rave, and she tries to keep him grounded. Failing. So the only thing she can do is follow him into his madness, as she always has. Now she knows there's no turning back.

She's against Soldier Boy's return, but here he is, back once again, bothering her. Reminding her of the time (while they were with the Boys) he stole a kiss from her, and she punched him. Then Ophera discovers something. Homelander and Soldier Boy are searching for the original Compound V serum, the primordial formula rumored to grant true immortality to Supes. And that is where a new conflict begins. Because Ophera wants that serum for herself. She wants to live and being beautiful forever too.

The visit to Fort Harmony creates new tensions, and when Homelander is locked in the cage with the uranium rods, Ophera fights Soldier Boy to free him. She is defeated and left for dead. Homelander believes she's gone, further devastating his mind. But she survives, and they escape. She lets herself be carried fearlessly, because for the first time she's stared death in the face, and her fear of great heights is now nothing compared to it. She now trusts Homelander enough to let him fly her to the Tower, something that would normally have terrified her.

Let's back for a moment in her childhood. Illuminatio, her dear friend, he was never a single person. But they were originally conjoined twins separated in a lab, one named Leo (Leonardo) and one Lesh, who share a single consciousness. To distinguish them, scientists tattooed card suits on their wrists: diamonds and clubs for Leo, and hearts and spades for Lesh. Throughout their childhood, researchers watched how both interacted with Ophera to see how a shared mind would adapt to her, yet she never realized she was talking to two different people. As they grew up, Leo became the primary twin known as Illuminatio, and when he finally stepped up to save her from Homelander, he wasn't afraid of dying because he knew his consciousness would simply wake up in Lesh’s body. This adds such a tragic layer to his final words, telling her to look closely because the trick would only work once in a lifetime.

Butcher found the dormant body at Fort Harmony after Stan Edgar tips them off, leading to his unexpected recruitment. The real twist comes when Illuminatio wakes up in this new vessel and realizes that Lesh is far more powerful than Leo ever was, possessing abilities the scientists never even detected. He moves beyond simple stage magic into something much more formidable, essentially a raw reality manipulation power.

Instead of making a spectacular entrance, he decides on a much more delicate approach. His goal is to slowly re-enter Ophera’s life by first slipping into her subconscious. Lately, she finds herself thinking about him constantly, puzzling over why he’s suddenly on her mind. The truth is, he is already there, watching over her and waiting for the perfect moment to officially reveal himself. He has been crossing her path in disguise. As the taxi driver from late night, the waiter at the Vought restaurant, and the gentleman who helped her with a door when her hands were full. She doesn't realize it yet, but that lingering sense of familiarity is him, quietly weaving himself back into her world.

Soldier Boy hands Homelander the original Compound V, terrified and selfish Homelander injects the only vial into himself. Ophera watches in absolute horror and devastation as her dreams of eternal youth and their shared future shatter in an instant. Hours later, a heartbroken Ophera destroys the penthouse in a fit of rage and humiliation. When Homelander arrives, a violent argument erupts. Ophera tears into his narcissism, throwing his deep-seated fears in his face and leaving him completely silent and guilt-ridden. After a sleepless night haunted by the terror of growing old alone, Ophera swallows her pride and confronts him the next morning, admitting her vulnerability. Moved by her raw honesty, a regretful Homelander promises to fix his mistake.

A week later, Vought scientists successfully stabilize a new dose of V1 at the cost of a hundred lives. Homelander presents the syringe to Ophera in a ceremonial, worshipful gesture, kneeling before her. Though disturbed by the body count, Ophera accepts her destiny and lets him inject her. What follows is a brutal, agonizing transformation: her body convulsing, bones snapping, and blood spilling across the marble floor. Yet, as the serum rewrites her DNA, silver lightning flashes beneath her skin, her voice alters into something beautifully non-human, and she emerges as a radiant, safe, and fully immortal being.

Despite the threat of the Boys wanting to recreate Soldier Boy's powers on Kimiko, Homelander insists on proceeding with his final speech.

During the public broadcast, Ophera is in theater alongside O-Father, preparing to perform and debut the mesmerizing, non-human depth of her upgraded vocal cords. In the moment Butcher engage Homelander in a fight. Realizing the plan has gone horribly wrong, Ophera run toward the Oval Office. When she bursts through the doors, she is met with a nightmare: Homelander is on the verge of being slaughtered. Without hesitation, she throws herself into the fray, using her new strength to temporarily drive Butcher back. But as she lunges to shield him, a desperate exchange of words reveals a devastating truth Homelander has been stripped of his powers. Paralyzed by shock, Ophera hesitates, allowing Butcher to strike a brutal blow that chips her right canine despite her V1 armor. Ryan then pins her down, forcing her to watch Homelander’s execution.

Cradling his lifeless body in the ruins, Ophera knows she is finally free from the toxic dependency and psychological torment Homelander inflicted on her since joining The Seven. Yet, the reality of her freedom is a bitter, hollow joke. She is now an immortal being trapped in an empty universe, possessing an endless eternity but absolutely no idea what to do with it. She had spent so long resisting, and finally accepting, the terrifying truth that she loved this monster, only for him to be ripped away the moment they shared the same destiny.

Days later, Illuminatio appears to comfort her. Ophera is not shocked; she coldly admits she had sensed his familiar, lingering presence for a while, just waiting for him to show his face. This reunion brings the long-awaited explanations and deep family connection she wanted her whole life. Yet, the timing is a tragedy: the reunion feels secondary because the only person she truly craves is gone forever.

Stan Edgar reclaims Vought and needs new Supes to captivate the masses. Recognizing her potential, Edgar approaches Ophera with an offer to return to the spotlight. She accepts, but on one absolute, non-negotiable condition: she wants Homelander’s exact position. She demands to be the leader, the crown jewel, and to hold absolute control over the empire. Her request is approved.

With the title comes the ultimate symbol of supreme leadership: the American flag cape. But as the fabric settles onto her shoulders, it is clear Ophera is no longer the woman she used to be. Now consumed by a toxic cocktail of unbridled ambition, godlike power. She makes a silent vow: If she cannot have him back, she will become him. Illuminatio pledges to follow her to the very end of his days with fierce devotion, but he does so with a heavy heart, fully aware that he is serving an unstable woman destined to be the next global nightmare.

The season ends with an unsettling, unhinged shot contrasting the heroes' good ending. Just before the screen goes black, Ophera looks directly into the camera with a slow, fascinating smile. For a split second, a glow ignites behind her irises, a shimmering crimson light eerily reminiscent of Homelander’s heat vision. I wanted a powerful, open-ended cliffhanger designed to leave the audience spiraling with questions: Is this a terrifying, hidden side effect of the stable V1 rewiring her powers, or has Ophera finally snapped, letting the darkness consume her entirely? The credits roll on the reflection of a new villain. Showing how she too has been consumed and brainwashed by the cruel machine that moves our world.