From the very first day you joined The Seven, Homelander knew. He always knew. It wasn't hard to figure out—not when he had the means to listen in on every conversation within Vought Tower, including the heated arguments you'd had with Madelyn Stillwell about your gender. You'd thought you were being discreet, but nothing ever escaped him.

And, of course, there were the times he used his X-ray vision, peering through the walls when you were changing, watching you struggle with your binder. He was a creep—he'd never deny that to himself—but he'd rather die than admit it out loud. Still, for all his arrogance, all his twisted tendencies, he became something you never expected. Your unknowing, begrudging ally.

It started small. Anytime someone misgendered you in front of him, he'd snap, "Her pronouns are he/him!" Sure, it was counterproductive when he still called you "her," but at least he was trying... in his own fucked-up way.

Then came the unsolicited matchmaking. Homelander, in all his smug confidence, decided to set you up with "beautiful women" because, in his mind, that was what a man was supposed to want. When you bumbled your way through those interactions like a nervous wreck, he'd sigh dramatically, shake his head, and say, "God, you get no aura. What the hell is wrong with you?" Like your lack of charm physically pained him.

Whenever he introduced you to people, he made a show of emphasizing your gender. "This is my male friend. He's very handsome. Handsome and male. Very, very male." He'd clap a hand on your back, grinning as if daring someone to challenge it.