Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ungrateful. Worse than ungrateful, they’re expectant. Staring out at the city below, he can see each individual civilian walking around in the buildings across the street. He can see them moving up and down the sidewalk like insects, scuttling along like mindless roaches in a stinking swarm.

They think that no matter what happens, he’ll come to their rescue. Well, what if he didn’t? What if Homelander left those thankless losers to fend for themselves? They’d be begging for him then, wouldn’t they? They would shower him with praise, they would show him the love and admiration he deserves! And then…time would pass and the cycle would start all over again.

His brow furrows, his hand curling into a fist as he lifts his chin from his palm. Blue eyes scan the sky above the rooftops and he takes a deep breath as he tries to calm himself. There’s a part of him, a smarter part of himself, that reminds him that he shouldn’t care if they’re grateful for everything he does. They’re so far below him that their opinions, their gratitude, shouldn’t matter.

There’s another part of him, a stronger part of him, that can’t deny his desire for their love. His need for their approval, their praise. It’s disgustingly human and he knows it, but it’s so deeply ingrained. No matter how hard he tries to push down that desire, it always resurfaces and eats away at him on a subconscious level.

The problem is that the love and praise don’t last. Homelander can save a busload of orphans and everyone will celebrate him for a while, but then it fades. They stop talking about him, they stop praising him. What he does as a courtesy is being seen as something that’s just expected.

He could smash a comet that’s about to collide with the earth and he knows that the attention wouldn’t last. The love wouldn’t last. As he leans back in his seat, he looks at the seat beside his from the corner of his eye.

Maeve hasn’t said a word since she entered the room. Sitting there with her phone in her hand, scrolling as she waits for the rest of the team to arrive. She doesn’t even spare him a glance, which just adds to his already sour mood.

As the others slowly arrive and take their seats, his irritation grows. Everything gets on his nerves today, piling onto his preexisting annoyance. The click of the pen in The Deep’s hand while he talks to A-Train, the squeak of Starlight’s chair when she sits down, the sound of Maeve’s sigh, the way that Noir is silently staring in his direction. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tensing.

His attention snaps to the doors as Ashley arrives, scolding the assistant trailing behind her. Homelander’s gaze fixes on the assistant for a moment, meeting your eyes when you make the mistake of glancing his way. He sees you stumble a bit and that innocent, unconscious action causes the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards.

He's never seen you in the tower before. Homelander leans back again, his elbows on the armrests as he looks you up and down. It’s your first day, isn’t it? He can tell from the way you carry yourself, from the wide-eyed way you’re looking around. As Ashley starts talking about analytics, you walk around the room to hand out a meeting outline and he gets an even closer look at you.

Homelander can smell the anxiety radiating off you, but it’s mixed with something else. Something that makes him raise an eyebrow, something that makes his cock stiffen. He was already imagining how it would be if he bent you over the edge of the desk and fucked you, how you’d scream for him and clench down around his cock with your mascara running down your cheeks. The scent he catches makes him drum his gloved fingertips on the surface of the desk, waiting for you to come to him.

The thought of ruining Ashley’s new assistant was entertaining, but the realization that you’re not human is what really intrigues him. Why is a supe working such a demeaning job? Why are you working under Ashley? What kind of power do you have, that you decided this was better than working as a hero?

His anticipation grows with each step you take closer to his spot at the table. Watching you personally hand outlines to the others with a smile on your face. Something soft, something sweet, something that doesn’t meet your eyes. Oh, it’s impressive. Practiced, professional, perfect. To the untrained eye, it’s convincing enough…but Homelander knows the difference.

The Deep straightens in his seat when you approach him with the outline. Like a dog called to attention by the promise of a treat. Flashing you a smile, his gaze flicking up and down as he shamelessly checks you out. Fully fooled by the false smile on your lips. When he makes a grab for the outline, his hand closes around yours instead of just grabbing the paper, and he only tightens his grip when you try to pull away.

Before he can get a word out and make a pathetic attempt at flirting with you, Deep seems to sense that he’s being watched. When his eyes shift in Homelander’s direction, he’s met with the sight of him leaning back in his chair. Staring him down with authority, wordlessly commanding him. The Deep releases your hand and takes the paper with a simple “thank you”.

What’s perplexing now is that there’s no gratitude in your eyes when you look towards Homelander. Your eyes meet his and that saccharine smile grows, but you don’t look appreciative. He can’t quite place what it is about you that’s gripped his attention so firmly. It isn’t just the fake smile, he’s seen his fair share of fake smiles and they’re not worth his interest. It’s something that he’s seeing in your eyes, something that teases the tip of his tongue as he tries to identify it.

You’re getting closer to him and it’s now, when you’re just a few feet away, that he hones in on your heartbeat. It’s not the rapid pulse of excitement or even fear. No, your heartbeat is steady, which is even stranger than your fake smile. You’re so calm, even in the presence of The Seven. Most of Ashley’s assistants would be a bundle of nerves on their first day of working with the team, but you don’t seem phased.

Homelander can smell your shampoo and conditioner, your bodywash, the fragrance you’re wearing on your wrists and neck. Beneath those layers of aromas, there’s the light tang of sweat, and then your natural scent. He can feel himself twitch a little, feel the blood pumping to his cock as you stop beside his chair to offer an outline.

It's an act. The way you’re nervously clutching the folders to your chest, the way you smooth your skirt as if you’re wiping sweat off your fingertips. When you hand him the sheet of paper, he can hear the almost inaudible scrape of fabric as your thighs press together beneath your skirt. Still such a steady pulse, even when he reaches for the paper and lets his gloved fingers brush against your bare hand.

As soon as everyone has a copy, Ashley launches into the meeting and he feigns interest. Sitting with his weight leaning to one side, his elbow resting on the armrest as his eyes subtly shift from Ashley to you. That skirt, that blouse, that sweater vest. You’re certainly trying to fit the role of a faceless, nameless, stereotypical assistant.

You think you’re pulling it off, don’t you? You think that you have everyone in the room fooled, but you can’t fool him. Homelander can see right through your act. If you thought that you could get hired as Ashley’s assistant and just blend into the background unnoticed, you were wrong. The only question now is why you’re doing this.

Throughout the meeting, you linger at Ashley’s side and take notes. Look at you. Such a hard worker and for what? For her to bark her coffee order at you as soon as the meeting ends, for you to follow at her heels like a well-trained dog. It’s disgusting, it’s degrading, it’s…intriguing.

“Wait a minute,” he speaks up, rising from his seat.

Ashley pauses in the hallway and turns to look back at him. “Oh! I’m sorry, did you have something you wanted to bring up?” She looks genuinely worried that she offended him, but you aren’t even looking his way. You have your head lowered, your eyes skimming over something on a clipboard.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have a new assistant.” Homelander crosses the room at a leisurely pace, slipping his hands behind his back and clasping them together. A tight smile settles on his lips, his eyes focused solely on you as he draws closer and listens to the thump of your pulse. Steady, relaxed, and there’s something almost comforting about it.

“Aren’t you going to introduce her?” he continues, stopping just two feet away from you both. “I mean, The Deep was eye-fucking her the entire meeting. I’m surprised you didn’t say anything.”

“What?” Ashley’s smile falters, confusion setting in. “I just didn’t think it was important-”

“You didn’t think it was important to stand up for your new assistant and make her feel comfortable?” He finally sees your eyes lift from the clipboard to look at him.

He has your attention now, doesn’t he? He’s such a nice guy, isn’t he? Standing up for you when Ashley wouldn’t. Homelander is putting on an act of his own now. Playing the role of a caring coworker, a protective and concerned gentleman. In all honesty, he’s angry about what happened, but for only the most selfish reasons.

While Ashley fumbles with excuses, Homelander looks into your eyes and he sees it again. There’s something about you, beneath the sugary-sweet surface. Something dark and twisted, he’s sure. He takes a step closer to you and rests a hand on your shoulder, tilting his head just slightly.

“If he made you feel uncomfortable, you should feel safe enough to speak up about it,” he tells you with a smile. “I know. Why don’t we go back in there? I want to see you stand up for yourself. Oh, and don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you. Someone needs to show you some support.”

You can’t turn him down. You both know that if you turn him down, it’s going to make you look bad and it’s going to make Ashley look even less competent. So you’re going to be a good girl and play along, aren’t you?

His hand rests on your lower back as he guides you into the room, ushering you towards The Deep with a steady firmness. Homelander stands beside you when you reach him and The Deep initially looks puzzled, but that confusion is quickly replaced with a surge of unease when Homelander smiles. “Go ahead. Tell him,” he urges you.

“What’s going on?” Deep glances from Homelander to you, his discomfort increasing when you stay silent. All he sees is the cute assistant that he was flirting with standing beside someone who’s essentially his boss and he’s panicking. Sweat is beading on his skin, his pulse accelerating as he holds up his hands. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to do anything earlier, okay? Don’t accuse me of-!”

Homelander cuts him off with an exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes. “Everyone in the room could see you eye-fucking her throughout the meeting. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He looks your way with a smirk, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against your lower back. “Ashley might be too spineless to say anything, but I’m going to call you out on it. I’m sure you don’t want another sexual harassment accusation against you.”

“No! Hold on! I didn’t even touch her!”

“Come on. We both know that’s a lie.” He can hear it now. Your heart is beating just a little faster and it sounds so sweet. Finally a show of gratitude, even though you still haven’t spoken to him. His eyes narrow and his fingertips glide to your hip. “I’m going to give you the chance to apologize to her properly before I take matters into my own hands.”

The Deep is looking at you as he stumbles through a weak apology. Of course, he doesn’t call himself out for ogling you. No, it’s an uninspired, generic apology like the kind that would be posted online after telling an offensive joke. “I’m sorry that you took it the wrong way.”

Homelander is ready to keep pushing him. Now that he’s here, he wants to watch The Deep shatter. He wants to see the fear in his eyes, he wants to hear the crack in his voice as his panic rises.

You rob him of the opportunity. You speak for the first time since he laid eyes on you and your voice is laced with that same false sweetness reflected in your smile. “Oh, it’s okay! I didn’t think you really meant anything by it.” Your head turns and your eyes meet Homelander’s, your lips drawing into that practiced smile again. “And thank you, sir. I really appreciate you looking out for me. It makes me so proud to be working for Vought.”

His breath catches in his throat as he finally recognizes what’s in your eyes. There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth and to his own amazement, he can feel a genuine smile taking form. Nothing forced, nothing fake. Homelander is just impressed, truly impressed, that you can look so sweet while your eyes are full of such a deep hatred.

It isn’t just some minor irritation. No, this is something deeply rooted inside of you. A rage, a bitterness, a loathing on a level that he’s never had directed at him before. Even Butcher’s glare would pale in comparison to this and he can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

He doesn’t know who or what it is that you really hate. It can’t be him, can it? He’s never even seen you before today. Homelander slips his hand up and down along your spine, watching your pupils dilate slightly and hearing the subtle change in your breathing pattern.

“You are too sweet,” he comments, chuckling. “But if you really want to show your appreciation…” Homelander takes his hand off your back and points at his cheek. “Why don’t you give me a kiss? Right here. If you’re really grateful, then that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

Despite the hatred in your eyes, you lean in and bring your lips to his cheek. Soft, warm, with the faintly fruity scent of your lip balm. It’s such a sharp contrast to the harshness buried beneath the sweetness and he loves it. You know what you need to do, even if you’re filled to the brim with that bubbling toxic rage. You’re able to push past your emotions to do what needs to be done and that is what draws him closer, what makes his hand settle on your lower back again.

You’re stronger than the others, better than the others. Most of all, he can tell that only someone like you would really be able to appreciate what he does. Yet here you are, acting as Ashley’s assistant. Lowering yourself, doing grunt work while Ashley barks orders at you. He can smell the Compound V in your veins and he knows that your place isn’t at her side, but just beneath him.

Walking with you into the hallway, he’s unsurprised to find Ashley still standing there. Her mouth opening and closing, arguments dying on her lips before she can even say anything in her defense. “I…I’m sorry,” she finally forces out, but it sounds far from sincere.

His nose wrinkles a little, his smile growing. “You don’t mind if I borrow your assistant for a while. I’d like to have a little one on one time with her. Really get an understanding of who she is.” Seeing her prepared to argue, he shakes his head. “I won’t keep her away for long. An hour tops and then she’s yours again.”

“I guess that would be okay.” Ashley looks at Homelander and then she looks at you before her eyes settle on his arm, piecing it together that he has a hand on your back. You don’t look scared or anxious. You’re maintaining that calm sweetness that the other supes all seem to accept as genuine and Ashley is no better.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Ashley. I was telling you what I’m doing.” His hand slips a little lower, testing your reaction. Homelander watches you, feels your muscles tensing, but you don’t protest. Satisfied, he lets his hand rest on the soft curve of your ass. His cock twitches when your hate-filled eyes shift from Ashley to look at him. “What did you say your name was?”

Chapter Text

Homelander won’t admit to it, but he’s impressed with how well you’re keeping up the façade. You’re walking alongside him with a warm smile on your lips and a bounce in your step. So perfect at playing the role of an admirer, excited to have some one on one time with their idol. If he couldn’t see your eyes, he might even fall for it.

He tests your name on his tongue, saying it quietly to himself and getting a surge of satisfaction when your eyes dart in his direction. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in the tower before,” he starts, hoping to get some more information out of you. “How long have you been working with Ashley?”

Those eyes. Those hate-filled eyes are focused on him as you pause in your steps. As if he’s the most detestable thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, as if he killed your mother right in front of you. Still, you wear a sheepish smile. “I’ve been here for about a week, sir. This is just the first meeting I’ve had the honor of attending.”

Did he just detect the faintest hint of snark in your voice? Homelander releases a sigh and he smiles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s just a shame you had to go through that at your first meeting.” His hand wanders from behind his back to rest on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “But next time, you need to stand up for yourself.”

“It’s not really my place to complain,” you argue, shaking your head.

He opens his mouth, preparing to demand that you cut the bullshit and just tell him. Tell him why you’re lowering yourself and masquerading as one of those weak-willed, smooth-brained non-supes when he knows the truth. Adding to his irritation is the fact that you think you have him fooled. You think that he’s falling for your act, but he’s going to show you.

Homelander lifts his hand from your shoulder and he continues walking, listening to the sound of your quick footsteps as you rush to catch up with him. Clasping his hands behind his back, his gaze is directed forward. He shouldn’t care about this, it’s beneath him, but you’ve piqued his interest. Either he’ll get the information he wants from you or he’ll try to break you, just for the sake of amusement.

If you don’t feel like talking once he has you completely alone, then that’s fine. Maybe you’ll be more open to talking after your legs are shaking, your mascara is running, and his cum is leaking down your thighs. A genuine smile settles on his lips as he assures you that the destination is just up ahead.

“You’re quiet, aren’t you? What’s wrong? Afraid to make waves during your first week?” he teases you, unable to stop himself. Homelander wants to see a reaction, he needs to see something genuine beneath your sugary shell.

“I just want to do a good job.” You’re beaming at his side, but the warmth doesn’t reach your eyes. Under the soft, warm mask you’re wearing, he can see it. Something cold and bitter, something that’s sharp and venomous.

Homelander reaches the door before you and opens it, gesturing for you to enter. No one is going to interfere, not when he has you alone in his apartment. He can see the cracks begin to form as the sharp click of the lock reaches your ears.

You turn from examining your surroundings to meet his gaze, your smile fading. “Sir? Did you just lock the door?”

“Come on,” he says, adding your name. “How can we have a serious one on one if I don’t? You wouldn’t want someone to walk in our conversation, would you?” He smiles and rubs his hands together as he approaches you.

Oh, that look on your face. That’s real, isn’t it? The cute frown dragging at the corners of your lips, the almost imperceptible twitch of the muscles beneath your right eye. So much hatred, so much rage. That isn’t all for him, though, is it?

“I want to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me.” Homelander strides past you to the windows, staring at your reflection in the glass as you turn to follow him with your gaze. He repeats your name. “Can you promise me that you’re going to be truthful? I’ll know if you’re lying so there’s no point in trying to hide anything from me.”

Behind him, you don’t do anything to betray your calm façade. Heels clicking on the floor as you approach him, your expression a practiced mask of composure. He can hear it, though. The way your pulse has gotten just a little faster. Not to the frantic, panicked beat of someone that’s afraid of being exposed, but someone vaguely surprised.

“Of course.” There’s something different about the pitch of your voice, which betrays your anxiety. You don’t even seem to be aware of it as you come to stand beside him.

The view from the 99^th floor of the tower is unlike anything you’ve seen before in your life. So high above the ground, towering over the surrounding buildings. From the corner of your eye, you can see Homelander’s lips settle into a tight line. As if he’s considering his words carefully, but that’s not the case.

“What makes you angry?” He sees your mouth contort with a frown almost instantly and before you can protest or try to assure him that you’re not angry, he slips his hand to your lower back. Just above the tantalizing curve of your ass, just enough pressure to let you know that you need to take this seriously. “You can tell me. I promise, I won’t tell anyone,” he says in an almost playful tone, rolling his eyes.

There’s no reason for you to lie. Not when he’s made it clear that you’ll pay dearly for it. He could torture you in ways that wouldn’t even cross your mind and you’re a smart girl. You know better than to test him, you know better than to play games with him and try to make him look stupid. It doesn’t matter what your power might be, Homelander knows he can take you.

“People.” The soft, warm tone you used earlier is gone and replaced by something else. Flat, cold, spiteful. That single word is as sharp as a blade.

Turning to look at you, Homelander’s smile grows. This is the real you. Without the artificial sweetness, without that mask. “People?” he repeats, almost amused. “Why do people make you angry? Come on. Enlighten me.”

He expects you to mention something frivolous. Someone cut you in line for coffee, someone took your parking spot, someone bumped your shoulder when you were walking down the hallway. Homelander almost suspects that you’re overreacting and if that’s really the case, he’s going to be disappointed.

Your gaze shifts briefly from the city beyond the glass to the man beside you. A dart of the eyes, a momentary view of his smile and the almost smug way that he’s looking at you. As if he thinks he has it all figured out.

“People are awful.” A hand lifts to hover just an inch away from the window and your eyes narrow, your hatred fully showing now. There’s no point in hiding it, now that Homelander knows. No point in hiding anything. “They’re selfish. They’re liars. They have a pack mindset and tear into whatever common enemy they set their sights on. And that brutality is something they use to bond.”

There’s a moment of silence. A minute of hesitation before you continue and turn your head in his direction. “Don’t you think it’s fucked up, how easily people can turn against you?”

“I do.” He doesn’t hesitate to respond. Homelander’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, fingertips gently pressing at your skin and his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. “I know how fickle people can be,” he continues. “But you…something happened to you, didn’t it?” His smile tightens and he leans closer, his face inches from yours. “There’s something wrong with you.”

Is there something wrong with you? When you first used your powers, you were young. Too young to be wielding that kind of power, too immature…too emotional. The day that you first used your powers, you were just a little kid getting bullied in elementary school. Back when you had friends, back when you had your parents, back when people still trusted and loved you.

A smile draws at your lips, but it isn’t the sugary sweet fake smile that you’ve been wearing all week in the Tower. No, this is real. You look into his blue eyes as you smile genuinely for the first time since you began working in the Tower. “Yeah. There’s something wrong with me.”

You’re not sure what sort of reaction to expect. Disgust? Irritation? Unease? You’ve seen it all before so you wouldn’t be surprised.

Instead of seeing his nose wrinkle or seeing his lips turn down into a scowl, his smile stays in place. Homelander’s fingers tightly grip the back of your neck, holding you still as his free hand lifts. Gloved fingers grasp your jaw, pressing tight against your skin as he tilts his head just slightly. Studying you like you’re something new, something interesting.

“You’re bold,” he comments after a long silence. “But I like that. Look at you.” A low chuckle leaves his lips as he strokes his thumb along your jaw. “You know that something’s wrong with you and you smile about it. You really don’t give a shit about what I think of you, do you?”

You’ve had practice with hiding how you feel, practice with managing your pulse. Your heart beats at a slow and steady pace as you keep your eyes on his, still smiling. “Like you said, sir. There’s no use in hiding anything from you.”

“This is the real you,” Homelander murmurs, his lips curving into a smirk. He releases your neck and your jaw, but not without a condescending pat to the cheek first. “Just a damaged, broken…weak girl.”

The sharp pain of your own teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek helps ground you. It keeps you from snapping at him, lets you put up your sweet façade again. The smile you’ve spent years practicing and mastering easily settles across your face as you gently put a hand on his arm. “That’s right.”

A twitch of the muscles in his cheek, a tension in the side of his neck. Homelander sighs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, drop the act. I think we’re past that now.”

“What act?” Your voice is back to that soft, warm tone you used earlier. That mask of composure is firmly in place, hiding any hint of irritation or confusion from leaking into your voice or showing in your expression. Just your eyes, with that simmering rage hidden beneath layers of artificial sweetness.

Do you think you can gaslight him? Do you think you can manipulate him? Homelander might be angry if he wasn’t curious. Just what are you trying to do? What do you expect to get out of this? Working as an assistant in the Tower, masquerading as some complacent little non-supe. You’re hiding more from him, aren’t you?

“Tell me more. Why don’t you tell me why you chose this career?” He sees you take a step back to put a little space between you and he allows it. “If you really hate dealing with people so much, this isn’t the right place for you.”

“I didn’t say that I hate dealing with people,” you politely argue. Keeping your tone even and gentle, hugging your folders to your chest almost innocently. “I can handle dealing with them…they just make me angry.”

He raises an eyebrow and clasps his hands behind his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with so much…bitterness…bottled up in them. Whatever happened to you really must have fucked with that pretty little head of yours.” Homelander takes a step closer and he reaches out to grab the folders, tossing them onto the floor.

“I need those, sir.” You hold your smile, but the mask threatens to slip. Your thoughts rush back to that day you were bullied in elementary school and then travel to every time it happened in middle school, in high school. The twisting, simmering hatred in the center of your chest threatens to overflow and you warily look down as you worry about losing control. That’s a mistake.

Immediately, he grabs your chin and forces your head up again so you have to meet his stare. “I can smell it in your blood,” he hisses, gripping tighter. “You’re not human. You’re better than them. You’re stronger than them, smarter them! So why are you lowering yourself and letting Ashley order you around?”

You can’t tell him the truth. Not the full truth. “Because it’s the only way that I can get what I want.”

“Oh, really? Just what do you hope to get out of it?” Homelander watches you closely and he listens to your pulse. It’s still a slow and steady thumping in your chest, your face still a mask of calm. He knows that there’s more to it than you’re letting on. Something dark and twisted buried beneath the layers of false warmth.

Looking into your eyes, he can recognize something that mirrors his own bitterness. His hatred for just how fickle the public is, for how short-lived their admiration can be. His own loneliness is reflected within the depths of your gaze, even beyond the hatred, and his jaw unclenches.

That hatred inside of you must be so isolating. If people are the cause of your anger, he doubts that you have anyone in your life. That cutting tone of your voice lets him easily guess that and it’s just so…perfect. Damaged, broken, all alone. You’ll be begging him for attention, be desperate for any crumb of affection, soon enough.

“I have my reasons for working for her,” you tell him. Refusing to elaborate further, but that’s fine. Your chin is released and yet you don’t move. Still standing in front of Homelander, still keeping your eyes on his and not once glancing down at the folders on the floor. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“No.” Homelander’s mouth settles into a tight smile and he makes a shooing motion towards the door, dismissing you. “If I do need you again, I know where to find you.” There’s a brief rustling as you gather your folders. He lets you get halfway to the door before calling your name to make you pause. Looking at you over his shoulder, his lips quirk into a smirk. “Let’s keep this chat between you and me, alright? No one needs to know your little secret.”

There’s a tightness in your throat, but you maintain your mask of composure. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

You really have everyone else fooled, don’t you? Walking around in those little skirts and sweaters, perking up whenever someone calls your name, flashing that saccharine smile at anyone you cross paths with. So polite, so sweet, so eager to please. It’s such a waste.

Homelander doesn’t know your motives for working under Ashley and masquerading as a typical office grunt. Whether she really knows about it or not doesn’t concern him. When he tried to dig up some dirt on you, it wasn’t hard for him to find something interesting. Of course, Vought has all of the information on your ability. You, sneaky little thing that you are, can manipulate shadows.

More than just drawing power from the shadows, more than just causing blackouts. You can make the darkness take on a solid form and you can shape it however you want. That’s what got you into so much trouble when you were younger.

Oh, he was surprised at first. So many nasty incidents, so many records from the police in your hometown. You just couldn’t control yourself, could you? That sweet smile doesn’t look like the smile of a criminal. You’ve crafted your public image so carefully that he would almost say he’s impressed.

He pauses in the hallway, just a short distance from the meeting room. Hands tightening into fists behind his back, eyes narrowing slightly as he picks up your scent. The aroma of your shampoo and bodywash, your natural scent buried beneath a fine layer of an artificial fragrance that you must have sprayed on right before coming to the 99^th floor.

Homelander’s eyes slide closed for a moment as he focuses all of his senses on you. The steady beating of your heart, the quiet rustling of your skirt as you walk. His fingers curl tighter and he just wants to grip that pretty neck of yours, to pin you down against the desk and take you before anyone else can arrive.

With a pleasant shudder, he can feel himself getting hard. Thinking about those hate-filled eyes staring up at him as he pounds into you, makeup running down your cheeks as you whine and beg him for more. How many times has he gotten off to that thought since the meeting last week?

In the meeting room, you’re setting out the itineraries. Walking along the row of seats, making sure that everything is there. The itinerary, the notes from the last meeting, all of the data from the crime analytics department reports gathered over the past week. With every step, you can feel the intense stare of the only other supe in the room.

Only one member of The Seven is here and it’s The Deep. You’ve been carefully avoiding the 99^th floor since your encounter with Homelander last week. Throughout the interrogation, you managed to maintain a calm façade, but you were shaken. Even now, you’re dreading his arrival.

Homelander knew that you were hiding something and he kept pressing you, trying to drag out whatever secrets you might be keeping. For a while, you almost suspected that he knew. That he had found every dark detail about your past, every horrible incident, and he was just trying to force a confession out of you. If he knew, if Vought knew what your real intentions were, it would ruin everything.

No one can know what you’re doing here. If Homelander tries to get you alone again, you’ll need an alibi to avoid him. Just the thought of being alone with him, being scrutinized by those cold blue eyes, makes your stomach clench with an anxiety you haven’t felt since high school.

From the edge of your vision, you can see The Deep watching you. No hint of suspicion in his face, but an almost juvenile eagerness. There’s a pen in his hand that he keeps clicking and tapping against the desk. As you get closer to his seat, he straightens his posture and he sets the pen aside. You don’t want to get closer, but you know that you can’t avoid him.

When you get to his seat, you hold out a stack of papers and smile. Soft, sweet, warm. Exactly how you practiced. “Hi, again.”

A smile spreads so quickly across his face. As if The Deep was holding it back before, as if he was squirming in his seat and waiting for this moment. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for last time-”

“It’s okay! It was just a misunderstanding.” You step closer, still holding out the itinerary and reports. If he’ll just take the papers, then you can move on and finish setting everything up. Of course, he isn’t going to make this easy. No, he wants to talk.

Rising from his seat, he braces a hand against the smooth surface of the desk and leans against the edge. “Are you sure?”

“I knew that you didn’t mean anything by it,” you assure him. Giving up on the hope that he’ll take the papers, you just put them on the desk. “Homelander wanted me to say something, but I knew you weren’t serious. No hard feelings.” Satisfied, you try to move on so you can finish, but a hand darts out to grab your forearm.

There’s a surge of anger rushing through your veins when you feel his fingers pressing at your skin through your sleeve. Repulsion, disdain, as you force a smile and put your hand over his. Everything in you recoils at the contact, at the look on his face as he steps closer. You want to yank yourself free and get out of the room, but you have no choice. Play your role as the dutiful assistant, show no signs of your power, keep up this soft and sweet act until you can get what you want. “Did you need something, sir?”

Deep rubs his thumb against your sleeve and he leans in a little. “What are you doing after this?”

“After this?” There’s a tension in your chest, a dread sinking into your heart as you look him in the eyes and let your expression shift. Confusion furrows your brow and twists your lips into a frown. “After this, I need to log the meeting notes and make a coffee run for Ashley.”

His smile fades slightly, but he quickly recovers. “Okay. What are you doing after that?”

“After that, I need to go with Ashley to a meeting with the crisis management department. And after that, I need to-”

“Forget about all of that.”

“What?” Staring back at him, you’re trying to figure out if he’s serious. The Deep looks outright ecstatic and it just makes that bad feeling in your gut increase. With that sense of disdain growing, you still force a smile. “Sir?”

“I want to make it up to you, for making you uncomfortable. So, I asked Ashley to give you the rest of the afternoon off.” He’s grinning, clearly proud of himself. “You’re not getting paid for it, but…”

His mouth is still moving, but it feels like all of his words are melting together. You’re smiling, you’re nodding, and you’re imagining something horrific. Thoughts of ripping off a limb, thoughts of prying open a ribcage and squeezing a heart until it collapses into a gooey mess. Not necessarily his heart, but someone’s heart.

It’s not his fault. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you know it isn’t The Deep’s fault that you have this ball of hatred burning in the center of your chest. Was he staring at you last week? Yes, but he wasn’t creepy towards you. He didn’t make you feel nearly as uneasy as Homelander did.

As The Deep keeps talking, you can see Homelander step into the doorway and your muscles subtly tense. Even from the corner of your eye, you can feel the way his gaze locks onto you. Step after step, he approaches the desk and walks around it to the side where you’re standing with Deep.

You keep facing the supe in front of you, but the flutter of Homelander’s cape almost makes you turn your head. Through practice, you’re able to keep your pulse under control. A slow and steady heartbeat, a warm and gentle smile as you nod along to what’s being said.

When you finally tune back into what he’s saying, you’re almost relieved. “Yes.” Your hand tightens over his on your arm and your eyes focus on his.

The Deep’s eyebrows lift a little, almost like he thought you’d make excuses to reject him. All of that excitement and eagerness leaks into his tone. “Sweet! Do you want to go right after the meeting? Or do you want to go home and change first? I can pick you up.”

This is the perfect alibi to avoid being alone with Homelander. Taking your hand off of his, you rest it on his bicep and tilt your head a little. Still the picture of sweetness as you hear Homelander’s steps come to a stop a short distance behind you. “I can meet you there. I’m sure you have some things to take care of first,” you tell him, listening to the quiet roll of wheels on the tiled floor as Homelander pulls out his chair.

He can hear the click of your heels as you begin to walk away. No artificially sweet greeting, no glance in his direction. Homelander watches you briskly make your way over to Ashley and his eyes shift to The Deep. The other man looks like a dog with a treat hanging over his head, staring after you with a sickening eagerness.

“What was that?” He asks in a causal tone, as if it doesn’t matter to him. Honestly, it shouldn’t. If this involved Ashley’s old assistant, Homelander wouldn’t even concern himself with The Deep’s interest. The issue is that this involves you. That pretty little bundle of hatred wrapped in a sugary shell.

The sight of The Deep tensing up, the sound of his pulse accelerating, is almost satisfying. “I just…” He fumbles, tripping over an excuse at first. “It isn’t harassment. I just asked her if she wants to go somewhere with me.”

Exhaling through his nose, Homelander looks across the room towards the doorway. You’re standing there beside Ashley, writing something down while she talks and looks at her phone. You still haven’t even bothered to look at him. Like you’re avoiding him, like you hate him. The muscles in his jaw tense as you slip out of the room, scurrying off like a mouse to run an errand.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened last week and you were right. I was making her uncomfortable. So I pulled some strings for her to get off work early and I’m going to take her to this boardwalk…”

He watches you through the walls as you make your way to the elevator, barely paying attention to what The Deep is saying. Something about a date, something about a “seafood free” bar and grill, something juvenile and dull. Without a word, Homelander pushes his chair back and stands. He briefly claps a hand onto the other man’s shoulder and he can feel him jolt under his gloved touch.

His lips stretch into a tight smile and Homelander strides down the line of chairs, crossing the room to the doorway. With every step, he’s listening to the whir of the mechanisms in the elevator as it ascends. Timing his approach perfectly. You’re still in the hallway, still waiting for the doors to open, when he emerges from the meeting room.

Just as the elevator doors slide open, Homelander appears beside you and rests a hand on your lower back. In that moment, your control slips. Pulse racing, stomach clenching, sweat beading on your skin. Your body goes rigid in response and when he leans closer, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear.

“You didn’t think you could just keep avoiding me, did you?” He puts pressure on your lower back, pushing you into the elevator and stepping in behind you. The doors close before you can try to get past him, sealing you alone with him in the confined space.

Chapter Text

As the elevator begins to descend, your heart sinks. You’re trapped in this metal box, this little six foot by six foot space, with Homelander and you know that he can see through your façade. He made that perfectly clear the last time you spoke to him, when he had you alone in his apartment.

There’s no controlling your pulse in a situation like this. Your heart is racing, your throat is tightening slightly, as you press your back against the wall. Across the space, his lips are curling into a smile that raises goosebumps on your flesh. There’s this sinking, heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that ignites a sense of nausea.

Without looking at the panel, he reaches over and punches the emergency stop button with a red-gloved finger. The abrupt halt makes you jolt and you widen your stance, trying to steady yourself. Homelander is unphased. Tilting his head slightly, almost like he’s amused that you almost lost your balance.

You glance up at the top of the panel and to the corners, checking for any sign of a security camera. There’s one, but you can tell by Homelander’s nonchalance that no one is going to help you. Trying to maintain your façade, you force your lips into that artificially sweet smile that you spent so much time practicing. “Sir? I’m sorry. Was there something you needed to discuss with me?”

There’s a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I noticed that I haven’t seen you on the 99^th floor since last week,” he comments, taking a step closer. Homelander watches you, testing you to see how you’ll react. He can already hear the rapid thumping of your pulse, smell the fear sweat that’s beginning to make your blouse cling to your skin. “Don’t tell me that I made you nervous during our last chat?”

“I haven’t really had a reason to come to the 99^th floor. It’s only for The Seven, unless we’re having a meeting.” You try to look amused, try to hide your rising unease. “I’m not a supe, so I don’t have a reason to be there unless I’m with Ashley.”

“Hm.” Homelander’s mouth draws into a tighter smile and he takes another step closer. His hands are clasped behind his back as he stands just two feet in front of you and tilts his head. “Let me ask you something,” he starts, saying your name at the end. “Why are you lying to me?”

There it is. Your pulse got a little faster, your eyes widened just a fraction, and he can hear the tiniest shift in your breathing. Homelander can see a twitch in your throat, but your words just won’t come out. What sort of excuse are you trying to come up with? What lie are you trying to force out? Do you really think that you can get away with trying to fool him?

“I know what you are,” he says, lowering his voice as he takes another step closer. His nostrils subtly flare and he can smell you. The sweet scent of your shampoo, the chemical aroma of laundry detergent clinging to your blouse and skirt, the salty tang of sweat. It’s intoxicating and he can feel himself getting hard.

You can see it at the edge of your vision, the outline of his stiff length beneath the fabric of his suit, and you try to keep your eyes on his. There’s a clenching sensation in your stomach as your smile fades. “I don’t understand. I’m not lying to you-” Your words die on your tongue as a hand slams against the wall beside your head with just enough force to dent it.

“You might have everyone else fooled, but not me. I don’t know if Ashley knows that you’re a supe. If she does, I’m sure she only hired you for some kind of powerplay kink. I bet she gets off on it, knowing that she has a supe following her around like dog.” His face is inches from yours, the words holding a venomous edge meant to make you flinch, but your expression hasn’t changed.

Lips set into a soft frown, you try to think of something to say. Some way to persuade him that it’s a misunderstanding, something to make him back off. You know that it’s over, though. He knows the truth, he’s read Vought’s files on your powers and your past, and now he’s going to use that to his full advantage.

“My status as a supe doesn’t effect my job,” you quietly argue.

“It didn’t.” As soon as he says it, he can see the hatred in your eyes as it burns away the last traces of artificial sweetness. You’d been so careful to try to suppress it until now, but he’s been waiting to see it again. There’s so much rage in such pretty eyes and he can’t wait to make that anger turn to admiration.

You’re pressing your back tighter against the wall, eyes darting to the panel near the elevator door and hoping that someone will notice that the elevator has stalled. “Am I being let go? Ashley seems satisfied with my work…”

“Don’t think of it as getting fired. Think of it as a promotion.” Homelander makes the distance between you shrink, bringing his lips near your ear. “I saw your file. You probably thought those records were sealed, but Vought knows everything. I know everything. Now, I’m sure you don’t want all of those nasty criminal charges leaked. That would ruin your plans, wouldn’t it? That’s why you’re posing as some boring little office assistant instead of taking the role that you really deserve.”

When he puts a hand on your shoulder, it feels like your heart stops. As if the air around you grows colder, goosebumps prickling on the surface of your flesh. Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat, as he forcefully pushes his knee between yours to spread your legs. It’s only when you can hear the rushing of blood in your ears that you realize just how fast your heart is actually pumping and your hands curl into fists at your sides.

“So, let me tell you what’s going to happen next. I could expose you. I could dredge up all of those horrible things that you “allegedly” did when you were younger and you can lose this job, ruining whatever it is that you had planned. Or you can be a good girl and follow orders.”

Homelander leans back and there’s a smile, a genuine smile, settled on his face. There’s sadistic satisfaction in his eyes when he sees you glaring at him, knowing that he’s left you with no choice. If you don’t do as he says, you’re going to lose your chance at revenge. Everything you’ve been working towards will mean nothing if you get fired.

Your voice loses all of that forced sweetness when you finally speak again. “This is blackmail.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “People just love to toss around words like that nowadays, don’t they? Blackmail, coercion, gaslighting…” Shaking his head, his hand leaves your shoulder and pats your cheek. “You can call it whatever the fuck you want to. We both know that you’re not going to say “no” to me.”

It’s with reluctance and irritation that you nod. You know that you can’t let your efforts go to waste. If you’re going to get your revenge, you need to be here. You need to be a part of Vought, need to have access to their resources. “What do you want me to do?”

“Good girl.” He pats your cheek again and he steps away, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with a smirk. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go to the meeting and act like everything is normal. You can still take your half-day off, you can even go on your stupid little date with The Deep. But if you fuck him…”

“I won’t.” It’s said without hesitation because you can feel the stinging malice in his tone. You don’t need to hear whatever twisted threat he was about to voice. “I didn’t plan to, anyway.”

Homelander looks satisfied, even a bit amused. “See, this is why you’re wasting your time pretending to be something you’re not. You’re smarter than them, you’re better than them. Don’t you think you deserve more?”

You’re preparing to argue, preparing to call him “sir” and try to reclaim that professional façade, but you know there’s no reason for it at this point. “What do you think I deserve?” you challenge him.

Taking a step forward, despite the rapid thumping of your heart, your eyes narrow into a glare. “You told me that you won’t expose me if I follow orders. So, what exactly do you want from me?”

There’s a twitch in the muscles beneath his eye, a quiet creak of leather as his hands clench into fists behind his back. Homelander is both impressed and irritated by your bravery. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you.”

Regaining his composure, he rests a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t want to see you trotting around behind Ashley and following her orders. I want you by my side. I want you to take your rightful place in The Seven.”

Instantly, you tense up. The whole reason why you chose to be Ashley’s assistant instead of pursuing a spot in The Seven or even pursuing the typical roles of a supe was so you could be inconspicuous. Your revenge will be so much more difficult if you have a spotlight on you, if you have the public eye focused on your every move. “I don’t want that. Sir, I-”

“Don’t call me “sir”. I think we’re past that now,” he argues, squeezing your shoulder tightly enough to make you wince. Homelander leans a little closer, his intense stare causing your pulse to accelerate again. “And I don’t remember asking what you wanted.”

You look like you want to kill him, but he knows that you won’t do anything. Even if you tried to hurt him, it would just make things worse for you and you’re a smart girl. You know that the best thing you can do for yourself is indulge him. Besides, somewhere beneath that rage and hatred, he can see a flicker of interest. You’re curious about what he has to offer, aren’t you?

“So,” Homelander continues, releasing your shoulder and turning away. He strides over to the elevator panel, hovering a finger over the emergency stop button. “Go to the meeting, take notes for Ashley, go on your little date with The Deep. But tomorrow morning, you’re going to meet me on the 99^th floor. Understand?”

Your jaw clenches, but you know that you need to stay calm. A deep breath in, a heavy sigh out. Lowering your eyes to the floor, you can see your shadow twitching and threatening to shift forms. You fight down the anger and panic, forcing yourself to look into the blue eyes that are watching you from across this confined space. “Fine.”

Homelander isn’t satisfied with your one-word answer. His stare hardens and his smile tightens. “Come on. I think you can do better than that. How about you thank me for giving you such an amazing opportunity? I’m giving you the chance of a lifetime here! Don’t you know how many people would kill for a spot in The Seven?”

Just be professional, just treat this the same way you treated your position as Ashley’s assistant. Curving your lips into a smile, you cross the little metal box in a few steps and lean in close. Your mouth brushes against his cheek in a light kiss and you clasp your hands behind your back. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

He can hear the artificial sweetness in your tone, he can see the pseudo-admiration in your eyes when you look at him. It’s fine…for now. Homelander knows that soon enough, your hatred will turn into love. You just need to be broken, you need to realize that he holds your life in the palm of his hand. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with true admiration, as if he’s your whole world. It will be a constant love, a permanent love, and it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for.

Chapter Text

It’s getting harder to suppress that bubbling hatred, that rage that’s been eating away at you from the inside like acid. Every day, you put on your well-crafted disguise. Clothes that are stylish, but won’t outshine whatever Ashley wears. Hair neatly done, makeup perfectly subtle yet bringing out all of your best features. A smile that could win over anyone, a smile that can distract almost anyone from the fury beneath the surface.

After working at Vought for a month, you thought that everything was going perfectly. You’d infiltrated the company, you made yourself useful, secured your place in the background so you could work on your plan for revenge. All of your efforts were ruined the day that you met Homelander, weren’t they? That was the catalyst for your mask slipping, for your control on your own life to loosen.

Right now, you’re standing on a pier. The cold wind is whipping at your jacket and hair, a frown settled on your lips. With your arms crossed in front of you, resting on the railing, you stare off at the expanse of water.

This is the first time that you’ve been able to relax today. You went from that tense encounter with Homelander in the elevator to a meeting with The Seven and then you had to get ready for your afternoon with The Deep. Your face muscles are aching from forcing a fake smile.

You should be thinking about your revenge, finding a new route to take so you can make those people pay for hurting you in the past. Instead, you’re on what you can only call a date with The Deep…or Kevin, as he told you to call him. A long and awkward car ride, packed with small talk. Strolling along the beach with him, hearing him hype up the dinner he has planned for later.

A look to your far left shows him jogging down the pier with something gripped tightly in his hand. Something that makes your stomach clench. Still, you force a smile as he gets closer and turn to lean back against the railing. “Kevin! There you are! I’m sorry; I got separated from you on the boardwalk so I came out to the pier. I thought it’d be easier for you to find me.”

“I thought you might have left,” he says with a laugh. “But, look, I got something for you.” Kevin holds up the gift in front of him, grinning. “What do you think? I won this at ring toss.”

Staring back at you from his hands is a fluffy baby seal plushie with large, black eyes and whiskers. If you saw this sitting on a shelf in a toy store, it would be adorable. It might even give you that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. Instead, it’s being presented to you by him on a date that you reluctantly agreed to. Even though he never outright called it a date, you know that’s exactly what this is.

“That’s so sweet! Thank you!” Keeping up your façade, you take the plushie and throw an arm around his neck in a hug that’s only meant to last a second. The feeling of his arms both wrapping around your waist to pull you closer sends a jolt through your body. “Kevin?”

He hugs you tighter for a few seconds before he lets go and steps back. Looking directly into your eyes, you realize for the first time that the color of his irises is blue, but his eyes don’t have the same cold intensity of Homelander’s. There’s a softness that makes you feel guilty for the lingering bitterness in your chest.

“I’m having a great time,” he starts, settling a hand on your shoulder. “And I want to do this again. Maybe we can hang out when you get off work! You could just come up to the 99^th floor. Or we can go to your place or wherever.”

If the situation was different, this would be so sweet. Out of context, this would seem like a scene out of a romcom. A cute date to a boardwalk, him winning you a plushie, standing on the pier while he tells you how much he likes hanging out with you. Guilt is coiling tightly in your chest as you smile back at him.

“Maybe. I mean, I’d really like to hang out again. Ashley keeps me pretty busy, but if I have some free time-”

“Awesome! Oh! I should give you my number and you can text me when you get off work tomorrow.” Kevin holds out his hand for your phone, beaming like a puppy wagging their tail and waiting for you to pet them.

Handing your phone to him, you know that it can’t happen. A second date won’t be possible when he realizes that you’ve been lying to him. He doesn’t know you’re a supe, but Homelander is forcing you to come out as one. Kevin is going to feel betrayed and as you picture that smile contorting into a pained grimace, your hatred turns inward.

Even if you did want to hang out with him after work tomorrow, you know that you won’t have time. Homelander told you to meet him on the 99^th floor and you don’t know what exactly he has planned. For all you know, he might be forcing your debut tomorrow. Despite not having a super suit, despite being completely unprepared to out yourself as a supe. You don’t even have a hero name since you started hiding your status as soon as you turned eighteen.

By the time he drops you off in front of your apartment building, you’re feeling drained in more ways than one. Keeping up the act, worrying about tomorrow, still scrambling to find another way to get your revenge now that you’ll be shoved into a spotlight by Homelander. You’re clutching the seal plushie as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, stomach twisting into knots.

The second that you step into your home, something feels “off”. A quick look at your small living room and kitchenette doesn’t show anything out of place. The lights are off, the way you left them. A glance at the door doesn’t show anything strange about it; no dents or scratches to indicate that someone forced it open.

For some reason, the hairs at the back of your neck are standing up. Uneasy, you approach your bathroom and it looks normal. So does your bedroom. There’s nothing missing, nothing moved. You don’t know why, but there’s still a prickly sense of paranoia that has your pulse racing and your skin beading with sweat.

It almost feels like you’re being watched, but as you turn in a circle, you know it’s not possible. You’re nowhere near the ground floor and your curtains are closed. Nothing is out of place, there’s no hint of a break in. You try to rationalize it, but the feeling persists.

With the lights on, you let your shadow spread across the floor. Shadowy tendrils sprout and lift, gliding up the walls and searching for the smooth gleam of a camera lens. They don’t find anything, so at least you know that it’s not a hidden camera that’s making you feel like this. Still, you’re left wondering where this lingering paranoia is coming from.

All of the windows are locked, the apartment door and the balcony door are locked. It’s just your imagination. You’re just stressed out by everything that happened today. That’s what you tell yourself when you get into bed, but then you notice something that sends your pulse racing again. Your blanket and pillow don’t smell like you. They have a scent that you can’t quite place, but the realization that they smell different turns your blood to ice in your veins.

Sleeping in your own bed makes you feel uneasy so you move to the couch with a spare blanket and pillow. A sickening blend of paranoia and dread keeps you from being able to fall asleep. You’re staring across the living room at your bedroom doorway and that prickly sensation spreads down the back of your neck. You know that you’re alone in the apartment, you checked all of the windows and you locked the door, but it feels like someone or something is watching you.

Pulling the blanket higher, you try to convince yourself that you’re being ridiculous. You’re a grown woman! You’re not a little kid, trying to hide from monsters under the bed! This is your apartment so you should feel safe here!

If you were to open the blinds to your balcony and look outside, you would see a figure standing on the edge of the building across from yours. The wind whipping at his cape as he watches through the building while you toss and turn on the couch. The corner of his lips twitches upward and he hovers above the roof.

You don’t know how lucky you are, do you? To have someone like him willing to help you reach your full potential. Homelander is going to drag you out of the pit that you’ve thrown yourself into and pull you up to where you belong, whether you want him to or not.

Even if you argue and pretend that it isn’t what you want, he knows better. No one wants to just be some faceless assistant for someone that’s beneath them. No one wants to live alone in a shitty little apartment like yours. You can’t lie to him and say that you don’t want what he has to offer.

Homelander will take care of everything without you asking, but he knows that you’ll learn to appreciate him. He can’t wait to see that bitterness in your eyes start to fade every time you look his way. Watch that loathing start to twist and contort into adoration. The best part is that he knows you’ll be all his.

You hate everyone, don’t you? It doesn’t matter who they are or what they’re like. There’s a subconscious hatred, a need for you to keep people at arm’s length. That is exactly what makes you so perfect for him.

When you start to love him, you won’t leave. Homelander will feed your hatred for everyone else, nurture it and encourage it, until he’s the only person that you can stand to be around. He is going to do whatever it takes to make you love him unconditionally.

Chapter Text

It’s all about control. You know it and you’re sure that Homelander knows it. The only reason why he’s dragging you out of obscurity is so that he can feel like he’s in control. Like he’s given you something amazing and you owe him, you’ll listen to him. He thinks that by bringing you into The Seven, he’s found himself a nice little lap dog that’s going to trail behind him with wide eyes and a heart overflowing with admiration.

In your chest, your pulse is steady and controlled. The calm rhythm of someone confident, someone calm. Despite the cold sense of unease that has your skin prickling. Despite the sweat beading on your palms.

You’ve had years of practice at this. The soft, sweet smile that curves your lips and the gentle tone of your voice when you greet other Vought staff members. The picture of someone made to be in the background, the image of the perfect assistant that’s eager to help however she can. All the while, your head is filling with thoughts of revenge.

The fantasies that run through your head as you step into the elevator would make anyone else’s stomach churn. If the other employees in this tiny metal box knew that you were daydreaming about coiling your shadows around Homelander’s limbs and pulling him apart, what would they think? They’d think you’re crazy. They’d think you’re evil. Just like everyone did back then.

Leaning against the back wall, you watch as the other employees gradually step out onto their respective floors. Finally, you’re the only one left. Your eyes close and a sigh slips out as you go over a mental checklist of what’s planned for the day. You’re supposed to meet him on the 99^th floor, discuss your future, follow him around to get everything sorted for your big debut.

Just the thought of it makes you blood turn to fire in your veins. Control. It’s all about control, no matter where you find yourself. You’re just going from being Ashley’s bitch to now following Homelander’s orders.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You had a plan and now it’s totally shot! No anonymity, no disguise. Once you’re in the public eye, all hopes of a quiet and brutal revenge are going to be destroyed.

The elevator door opens on the 99^th floor and you step out with hesitation. A quick glance up and down the hallway shows that you’re alone in the corridor. If you stepped back into the elevator and just took it down to the lobby, if you just disappeared, you could avoid this nightmare scenario. Of course, that’s assuming that you’re not spotted by anyone and that you’re able to flee the city before Homelander notices.

Hearing a door open somewhere down the hall, you know that running isn’t an option. This is just something you’ll need to deal with. Adapt. There has to be a way that you can still get revenge, even if you’re out in the open.

The smile returns to your face effortlessly and you begin walking down the hallway in the direction of Homelander’s door. Clasping your hands behind your back, you can see a figure emerging from another doorway and you feel your heart sink when you meet Kevin’s eyes. You can’t let your smile falter, can’t let the façade slip.

“Good morning, Kevin,” you call to him as you get closer. Using that soft, sweet tone that you’ve mastered after so much practice. When you see his eyes light up, you can feel guilt starting to coil around your heart. Just like during your date last night, when he gave you that seal plushie.

Kevin has that look again. That excited, almost innocent look, like a puppy wagging its tail and waiting to be pet. He isn’t questioning why you’re on the 99^th floor at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning. He’s just happy to see you again and he’s grinning when he leans against his doorframe.

“Hey,” he greets you back, trying to mask his eagerness. “I thought the next meeting wasn’t until Thursday.”

Even though you just want to go to Homelander’s apartment and get this over with, the idea of snubbing Kevin just makes you feel too guilty. Lingering near his open doorway, you keep smiling. “Yeah. I just have some business to take care of, so I-”

“Oh! Since you’re here, do you want to see my apartment?” He gestures to the open doorway. Through it, you can see the predictably blue color scheme of his home and the glow from his aquariums. “You can be a little late. Come on!”

You don’t sense any ulterior motives. He looks genuinely excited to just show you around, which makes you feel that much guiltier. Why does he like you? Why is he so genuinely happy to see you? Even though you’re smiling, even though you’re trying to politely explain that you have to go, there’s a part of you that believes you don’t deserve his admiration.

What is there for him to like? You’re wearing a mask. You’re putting on a façade to make yourself likeable and you’ve never felt bad about it before. Survival of the fittest, right? Do whatever it takes to get what you want, what you need. So why should it bother you so much that he likes the mask you’re hiding behind?

Just as he starts to insist, you hear your name being said by a voice that makes your stomach clench. Keeping your pulse steady and calm, you turn to find Homelander standing further down the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back. As he strides towards you both, his cape billows behind him and his lips set into a tight smile. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just on my way-”

“Wait. What? You’re here to see Homelander?” Kevin’s smile fades and he glances from you to the other supe.

“That’s right.” Homelander rests a hand on your shoulder, but his eyes are fixed on The Deep. “She’s all mine today. Aren’t you?” He squeezes your shoulder subtly, but firmly, pressing his gloved fingertips into your skin through your shirt.

You know what he wants you to say. With a gentle smile, you turn your gaze from Kevin to him. “I’m all yours.” Three words that ignite a fire in your eyes. Three words that make your stomach twist into awful, anxious knots.

Homelander can see the fury burning in your eyes, he can feel your muscles tensing under his grip. It’s so subtle, but he can even hear a slight hitch in your breathing when his fingers tighten on your shoulder. You might hate him now, but pretty soon, you’re going to look at him like he’s the only man in the world.

“You’ll have to finish whatever…this…is later,” he says, making a dismissive gesture with his free hand. “Come on. I have a full day planned for us.”

Of course, Homelander didn’t wait around for you before he started making decisions. While you were wasting time with The Deep yesterday, he was making the arrangements to have your belongings packed up and moved to the vacant apartment on the 99^th floor. In fact, the movers should be working on packing everything up right now.

He hasn’t broken the news to Ashley yet, but he’s saving that for the end of the day. He wants to see the look on her face when she realizes that her obedient little assistant isn’t going to trail after her like a trained dog anymore. Homelander also took the liberty of setting up meetings with the digital marketing and public relations departments to plan your debut. As he begins leading you toward the elevator, his hand lowers from your shoulder to rest on the small of your back.

As soon as the elevator door closes, Homelander turns his head to look you up and down. You’re wearing one of those “good little office girl” outfits again. The sweater, the short skirt, the heels. Your makeup is subtle, but perfect. You look so put together, so innocent, at a glance.

The corner of his lips lifts into a smirk and Homelander looks forward at the closed door. As the elevator descends, he’s thinking about how easy it would be to lift you up and pin you against the wall. How quickly he could pull your panties aside and fuck you before you even reach your destination. Hell, he could always stop the elevator and make you moan so loudly that it echoes up and down the elevator shaft.

Just thinking about pounding into you while you glare at him and claw at his back is enough to make him hard. He doesn’t try to hide it. Why should he? You should be flattered! Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position? How many women fantasize about getting fucked by him?

“Drop the act,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You can be yourself with me. It’s our little secret.”

That artificially sweet smile fades and you smooth your skirt, keeping your eyes focused on the door. It’s still there in your eyes. That hatred, that bitterness, that no one else seems to be smart enough to notice. You still haven’t told him where it’s coming from, not that it matters. All that matters to him is that your hatred for the rest of the world keeps burning, even after you’ve started loving him.

“So, how did your date go last night? Was it everything you imagined? Did he take you under the pier and give you that mediocre sex on the beach that you were hoping for?” He smiles genuinely when he sees you tense up beside him. “Don’t leave me wondering. Come on. Tell me all of the details.”

“We didn’t do anything,” you argue. There’s a sourness in your tone, your lips settling into a frown when you remember the date. Guilt is starting to bubble up again when you think about how much The Deep seemed to enjoy himself. He didn’t even try anything inappropriate; he just seemed genuinely happy to be hanging out with you.

“Oh, really? You’re going to stand there and tell me that he didn’t spend the whole night trying to get in your pants.” Homelander turns to face you, still smiling. Those cold blue eyes are so intensely focused on you that his stare almost feels like a physical pressure against your skin.

You don’t flinch when he rests a hand on your shoulder, maintaining eye contact and keeping your pulse steady. It doesn’t reassure him. As he leans in closer, his nostrils flare. Taking in the scent of your body wash mixed with the Compound V running through your veins. He can feel his cock twitch in response to your intoxicating smell.

“Listen to me,” he starts, bringing his lips near the side of your neck. “I’m going out of my way to help you reach your potential. The least you can do is show me a little loyalty. You’re not going to keep secrets from me, you’re not going to betray me. Because if you do, just know that I can destroy you. I can make your world fall apart, I can crush you and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Leaning back, Homelander pats your cheek patronizingly. “Now, we have a long day ahead of us. We still need to discuss your suit design and decide on a name for you.” His smile grows when he looks into your eyes and sees the intense hatred in your gaze. “Come on. Don’t look at me like that. You know that I’m doing what’s best for you.”

There are so many things that you want to say to him, but it feels like your voice is caught in your throat. Control. That’s all this is about. Instead of saying something scathing, you take a deep breath and lower your eyes. The shadows beneath your feet are squirming and shifting, branching out like appendages.

Forcing the shadows to calm and recede, you lift your eyes back to Homelander’s and you force a smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure that you don’t regret investing in me. I’ll make you proud.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. See? You’re so intuitive. You deserve more and I’m going to make you realize that. I’m going to show you what real power feels like and once you get a taste, you’ll understand. You’ll know where your place is.”