Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Annie January had never thought that when she moved to New York City, she'd be scraping by living in a roach-infested studio apartment. No, she thought she'd at least be signed to a label, maybe even playing some background characters in TV shows or movies. Instead, she was stuck at a dead-end job paying her outrageous bills as well as her mother's hospital bills.

Donna January was the person who made Annie this way. The pageants, plays, and mini-productions for school gave Annie a taste of the attention she could garner, but they all took a backseat once her mother fell ill. She remembered breaking down when her mother told her about her cancer. It took her father; now it came for her mother.

Things changed.

Annie decided then and there that she'd put her dreams on hold. She just needed to scrounge up enough money for her mother to get all the treatment she needed, and then she'd go back to her dreams.

Annie never thought she'd be in the same position she was in six months ago.

The rain came down in sheets, almost as if someone were pouring a bucket over them from the sky. It reminded her of nights in Iowa with her mother. They'd sit on the screen-in porch and watch the rain fall. She always loved the smell of rain, but being drowned in it wasn't something she considered could happen to her.

Annie groaned as she berated herself again for forgetting her umbrella before hopping on the train. It had been cloudy for days, but it finally broke through on her workday, as if a flood were happening.

Her blonde hair was plastered to her skull like a helmet. She could barely see through the water in her face; now, her bangs covered her eyes. She crossed her arms tighter around herself, and her soaked T-shirt and shorts clung to her body as she continued down the sidewalk.

The walk to work felt longer than usual due to the rain; she'd been walking for hours. As she rounded a corner, her eyebrows raised, and she noticed a crowd forming on the sidewalk before her.

Annie knew well enough to keep to herself and mind her own business. Getting into a shouting match with a New Yorker in the rain at 10 o'clock in the evening was not something she wanted to deal with. She couldn't help but listen in as she came closer.

She glanced over to the other sidewalk, but she noticed she'd have to cross the lake that formed in the middle of the street. She huffed and looked to her right, seeing an alley; she could duck there and wait it out.

"Please! I'm telling you… I'll get the money. You know… You know I'm good for it! I just…I just… It's been bad. I'm up to my neck in bills!" Annie heard a man pleading as she pressed against the wet brick wall. Something about this scene wasn't right, her body told her as her heart raced.

Annie peeked around the corner and saw a man standing in the crowd. His silhouette was barely visible through the heavy rain. She couldn't see much of his features; he was too far away, and the rain blinded her.

"10 percent interest on top of the principal every day until I get my money," the man said with a menacing growl. Annie felt a shiver run down her spine at his voice. It sounded like what she'd imagined the boogeyman to sound like when she was younger. If the rain hadn't caused her skin to break out into goosebumps, she was sure his voice would've.

The lightning must've been a paid actor, because it lit up half his face as it brightened the dark sky. She could see the curl to the man's lip and the unnatural fangy smile on his face. He looked like a monster, and this was some sort of game.

"Should I leave you with a reminder because Charles, you wouldn't want poor Cleo to have to bury her father, now would you?" She heard the voice snarl.

Everything happened faster than Annie could keep up with. The tall, broad-shouldered man raised his hand with something shiny glinting in his palm. It was a gun. Her eyes widened as large as dinner plates as the man swung the gun, hitting Charles across the face.

The strike caught him on his temple around his forehead, and blood immediately sprayed from the broken skin. Annie covered her mouth to muffle the scream she wanted to release. Her heart could stop at that moment. She stayed frozen as she watched the scene in front of her.

"You always have a fucking excuse, Charles, but there's a price. If I have to come out myself, I'll see to it your daughter has her work cut out for her with a closed casket." His voice was low and deadly as he made the promise to the kneeling man.

Almost as if he felt like he was being watched, his eyes flickered from the man, and for a brief moment, his icy glacier-blue eyes met hers. But it didn't seem like he noticed her. He looked at her, almost like he was staring through her.

Annie tried to keep herself still. She did not want to be seen, and she did not want to be next. The man suddenly turned on his heel and barked orders in a low voice. She did not know what he said, but everyone scattered like roaches. She next noticed car tires screeching on the rain-slicked streets, almost at risk of hydroplaning as they left.

The man was the last to leave, along with someone else. He turned on his heel in the downpour before stalking to a vehicle. Annie watched from her hiding space as the last car left; no one was left aside from her. She released the breath that caused her lungs to burn.

Annie's heart raced as she stayed hidden in the shadows, and her hands shook as she realized what she had witnessed. She didn't know who that man was, but she knew she had to be careful; men like that tie up loose ends, and she hoped she wasn't one.

Annie couldn't think about that; she had work to get to. She couldn't be late again. She glanced around one last time. The street was empty; even "Charles" was gone. She forced herself to keep on her path to work. The rain grew heavier as she started to walk once more.

Chapter Text

Annie looked up as she continued trudging through the rain. Her shoes squelched with each step she took as her mind tried to wrap around the events from earlier. The one thought that replayed in her mind over and over was the man's fangy smile. The way his lip curled over his white teeth.

She couldn't shake the thoughts as she entered the parking lot of her job. She stared at the flashing red neon sign that read 'The Boys: Gentleman's Club.' As she walked closer, she could see MM keeping the line orderly.

MM spotted her drenched figure through the crowd of sleazy, grimy-looking men and barked at them to make way. "Damn, what the hell happened to you?" Before she could respond, he checked his wristwatch with a frown, "Shit, scratch that. You're late, and it's gonna make us late. Get in there."

Annie rolled her eyes at MM and snuck past him into the club. She loved MM, but his OCD is enough to give her a headache at times. He was a stickler for it. She looked around, noticing Butcher wasn't around, and slowly walked further in.

She saw Kimiko setting up the bar for them and knew she had to hurry; just as she reached the bar, a throat cleared behind her. She turned to see Butcher standing by the door to the back rooms. He stood there in a new Hawaiian shirt, his hair tousled.

"Oi! You're lucky I like you, love, or you would've been fired a while ago." Butcher grumbled as he grabbed a towel from the bartop and tossed it at her. "New uniform shirts are in the back; dry yourself off. You're tracking water on my floors."

Annie caught the towel as she sighed. She thought she could slip in unnoticed, but when had she been able to? Butcher is like a bloodhound when it comes to people and their shifts. He may be a lax boss, but he doesn't like tardiness.

Annie quickly slipped past him into the backrooms and navigated toward the employees' locker room. As she slowly peeled her wet shirt from her body, her thoughts strayed to imagining her boss as an English Bulldog, accent and all. This thought entertained her briefly as she finished stripping out of her wet clothes.

Her hair would be tangled and smelly, and her face looked paler than usual, but her makeup hurt her. She did not want to spend more time fixing her running mascara, but she didn't want to look like a raccoon.

Annie went through the motions, fixing her face and changing into dry clothes. She was glad she had kept extra pants in her locker since her first day. Butcher always had a supply of shirts, so that part was taken care of.

When Annie returned from the locker room, she immediately went behind the bar to help Kimiko set up. MM will be opening the club, and once the dancers hit the stage and the lights dim, they will be in full swing for the next few hours.

Kimiko was one of her first friends while working at the club. She thought the girl was deaf and did her best to communicate with sign language. It turns out she was selectively mute and deaf. Since she was, she didn't bother to take her headphones out of her ears. Everyone thought the joke was funny except Annie.

Once they set up their ends of the bar, they both flashed Butcher a thumbs-up. Their boss turned to the corner by the stage, where a lanky, awkward guy sat behind a booth. Butcher called out for the music to start. Hughie Campbell was the DJ and also worked as a busboy once the strippers had finished their dances for the night and mingled in private rooms.

He was a sweetheart and helped Annie get into the swing of things. They had some odd tension here and there, but she supposed he had a crush on her. Then, out of the blue, he got a girlfriend. Robin was nice until they broke up, but now Victoria may be Annie's favorite.

Victoria seemed different from Hughie, but Annie supposed their fathers were the same in various ways. They wanted their children to follow in their footsteps. Hughie's dad wanted him to join the publishing family business, and Victoria's father wanted her to step up and take over his company in a few years.

Annie turned her mind off as the lights dimmed in the club; the stage lights flickered on, signaling that their first dance would be coming up any moment. MM opened the doors, and immediately, the club was filled with horny men, some forming a crowd around the stage waiting for the dancers, and others surrounding her and Kimiko at the bar.

Annie took a deep breath before smiling and giving the men her best friendly look. She and Kimiko were going to have a rough night; she just hoped they wouldn't have to deal with any assholes; MM can't guard the doors and them all night.

She just hoped the men were on their best behavior; they'd pay anything for a glimpse of tits and ass, but she was off limits. She didn't know how many men she and Kimiko had to fend off over the past few weeks; it was almost as if they had grown bolder.

The lights dimmed to almost darkness as Hughie announced their first dancer of the night. Annie glanced up and stared at the girl confidently, taking off her bright red lingerie bra as she ground against the pole on stage.

Kimiko elbowed Annie with a slight giggle as she signed out, 'More money, new boobs.' Annie tried to hide her own smile as they watched the men whooping and hollering, throwing bills on stage at her. She could only imagine if her mother saw the place she worked at, she'd have a heart attack before trying to pull her in for a confessional with a priest.

"Hey, Blondie. Can I get a beer?" A voice pulled Annie from the stage. She glanced over at the man leaning against the bar top. He looked like every other guy she had seen in this place. Whether they were businessmen working in the city, celebrities, politicians, or just regular men, they all could be classified as creeps, considering this is how they spent their weeknights and weekends.

"A beer? You don't want anything stronger than that?" Annie teased as she reached for the fridge beneath the bartop. She pulled out a bottle before popping the top on the edge of the bar counter with a satisfying noise.

As he reached for it, she giggled, pulling it back. "If you're going to sit here and drink, you've got to tip."

The man grinned at her and reached into his pocket for a 50-dollar bill he held between his fingers. Annie reached for it, only for him to pull it back. "If I sit here, will you keep me company?" He asked.

Annie batted her eyelashes. She'd worked here long enough to know what to say to these men. She could lie with the best of them. She smirked as her fingers brushed his as she pulled the fifty from him. "If you keep buying, I'll stay smiling." She winked.

The man chuckled as he raised his beer to her in a toast before taking a swig. Annie looked past him to see MM chatting with a guy. He wore a black suit with the button-down open, showing his chest. The guy had sunglasses on inside, like an asshole, while he dappped MM up.

"Hey, Kimiko… MM has friends? Who's that?" Annie questioned as she made orders for other men who came up to the bar. Kimiko glanced at MM and the mystery man, then back at Annie, with a shrug.

Annie couldn't help but feel on edge as she silently watched the scene before her. She felt alarms going off when the mystery man approached Butcher. He was in his usual spot near the back of the club, taking up one of the sections to watch over the club. He looked like a king surveying his kingdom as he chewed on a cigar while holding a tumbler of bourbon.

She watched the mystery guy walk up to Butcher, and they seemed to be on friendly terms like MM. That was odd because she'd never seen them be that friendly with customers. She watched as Butcher chuckled and stood up. He led the man through the crowd of men before they were first in line at the bar.

"Oi! Kimiko, I need you for the private room." Butcher gestured to the man, "This is EJ Noir. His Boss will be here in a few minutes for the private room."

Annie watched as Kimiko grabbed the keys to the private room and slipped away with Butcher. The man, EJ, looked at her with a slight grin, "You're new…"

Annie held her hand out as he handed her his credit card to pay for the room. "You're late. I haven't been new for 6 months." She answered as she swiped his card before handing it back, "Unless you haven't been here that long, then yeah, I'm new to you."

EJ shook his head, "Shit, I don't know how Butcher keeps money in his pockets if he's got shawties like you and Kimiko running the bar. Some advice that 'mean shit' only works on drunk and desperate dudes." He said with a smirk.

Before Annie could respond, a new man in a suit walked up. He had a super guy energy to him, reminding her of the frat boys during her brief stint in college. He looked at her with a dazzling smile. "Whoa! EJ, who's your friend? Hi, Kevin Moskowitz," he said, pointing his hand toward her.

Annie grasped his hand and made her wrist as limp as possible so he'd let go sooner. "Annie."

Kevin only shook her hand longer than necessary, and his thumb traced over the back of her hand. Annie eased her hand from his as Butcher whistled from across the busy club, "Oi, fuckers, the room is open."

Kevin wouldn't stop staring at her as EJ pulled him along.

Annie felt a shiver run down her spine at his gaze. She was sure that guy was a troublemaker. She watched as the men disappeared into the private room where Kimiko would be for the rest of the night.

Butcher walked back toward the bar, still smoking his cigar. He pulled it from his mouth to give her a stern glare, almost like what she'd imagine a father would give his daughter. "Yes, boss?" Annie asked as she collected checks and tips.

"Oh, don't bullshite me. Yes, Boss." Butcher mimicked before taking another drag from his cigar, "Those two… matter of fact, the whole group, avoid them. Don't talk to them, don't interact with them. The whole lot of them, bad news." He warned.

"They got connections in this city, Hell, the fucking world for all I know. Their Boss, the worst of them… I know the guy; he hates me, I hate him, but the money is still green." Butcher said as he looked into Annie's eyes. He sighed and did something very uncharacteristic as he reached for her hand. "I don't want you getting mixed up with them. Because you're far too innocent."

Annie rolled her eyes at him. This was Butcher's M.O. He'd say something and make you believe he's being genuine, and then he goes and fuck it up, being himself. "Thanks, Boss. But I'm a big girl." Pulling her hand from his, she said, "I have work to do."

She turned away from him and ignored him while she took care of the other guests at the bar. When it was clear she was avoiding and ignoring being in his space, Butcher stood up and left the bar to retreat to his spot.

Annie glanced up as whispers grew around her. A man walked in like he owned the place. Even with the storm raging outside, his blonde hair looked perfect and untouched. He wore a navy blue suit with a crisp white button-down.

He looked around the club before he found Butcher.

Annie watched as they approached each other, both men shaking hands. She felt her heart stop in her chest as the man smiled. It was just like the man from the alley. His lip curled, showing off his fangy smile, which she had seen through the rain.

She should've looked away, busied herself, wiping down the bar, and even serving other customers. Instead, it got to her. Her grip on the beer bottle loosened, and the bottle fell, smashing into a thousand pieces as the beer splashed on her feet and ankles.

So much for acting oblivious, both men turned to look at her.

Chapter Text

Annie swallowed hard as she tried to calm her racing heart. She excused herself before grabbing another beer and giving it to the man she had been serving. She could feel his eyes on her; a glance upward showed that Butcher was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced back down at the bartop as she took a towel to wipe it down. His eyes were sharp, unyielding, almost like a hawk watching its prey. She felt as if there was extra weight on her shoulders.

"Baby, let me get a shot." One patron shouted out as she moved on autopilot. Her hand gripped the glass tighter to keep it from shaking. There was no way he knew that she had seen him, right? It just had to be a coincidence.

This was The Boys: Gentlemen's Club, and the establishment wasn't exactly known for its welcoming atmosphere, as evidenced by a highly rated Yelp review. This was a seedy back-alley strip club that wouldn't raise any eyebrows due to its reputation. Only the creeps and corrupt went there.

Hughie announced over the intercom that the scheduled stage dances were over and the women were available for private showings for the right price. He turned up the music as most of the club started to clear out. Some stayed for the drinks and private dances, but once the stage was closed, people began to leave.

Annie glanced up through the haze of neon lights and thick cloud of cigarette smoke. She watched as he walked toward the bar. She was scared to death, but his suit was perfectly tailored to his body. She could see the hint of chest hair peeking out of the opening near his throat.

She was checking out the man who could be the same one from the alley. God, she probably wanted to die or something. She moved to another customer at the bar as she glanced at him approaching still.

She could see how the crowd of customers parted for him; he didn't have to push or shove, they simply moved. That was oddly attractive to her. She could feel how much closer he got until he slowly, deliberately sat at the bar right in front of her.

Annie tried to steady her nerves before she looked up.

Their eyes met, and his were a cold, icy glacier blue, almost like water that came from melting ice caps in Antarctica. They burned into hers, and she felt like she was in the alley again. This time, she was kneeling and pleading as that sharp, fangy smile pulled at his lips.

She watched him tilt his head as he put his forearms on the bartop; his eyes were so much sharper up close. She could see almost every color, making them appear to be frozen.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing in this dump? What's your name?" He asked, almost amusingly. His voice was smooth and pleasant-sounding, but she felt like that same voice could cut like a knife.

"Working," Annie answered far too shortly. She cringed before swallowing, "I meant I work here… um, name's Annie."

Her eyes flickered to his mouth, where his lips curled again. That fangy grin made itself known once more. An embarrassing thought flashed through her mind; it had to do with that crooked grin of his and her skin.

"Annie? Annie…” He said, sounding out her name. He said it a few times, as if he was tasting it, committing it to memory.

Annie glanced over her shoulder as her first customer of the night reared his head. He grinned at her, "Sweetheart, you said as long as I'm tipping you'll keep me company." She didn't know whether to be grateful for the interruption or not.

Annie smiled at him playfully, albeit a little awkwardly, due to the sharp-smiling man still sitting across from her. She replied as she reached for the fifty in his hand, "I mean, I don't leave til the bar closes."

The customer from earlier ordered a beer before elbowing the man with the scary grin. He was drunk and thought he was speaking low, "The rack of her, huh?" He made a gesture cupping imaginary breasts. "Can you imagine seeing them without that top, buddy? A smokeshow." He said as he winked at him.

Annie quickly handed him the beer, hoping he'd disappear again. When he did, she regretted it, realizing she was left with the man again. He didn't say a word since he said her name, but his smile still remained on his face.

Annie tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she glanced over at him. "Erm… what would you like then?" She asked, feeling the awkward silence around them. It was almost suffocating.

He didn't answer for a few moments. He studied her as if she were a puzzle he couldn't figure out. It was almost like he was trying to look for something while watching her. He finally spoke again, "Whiskey. Neat."

Annie nodded as she turned her back to him. She went for the house liquor, only for him to clear his throat, "Top shelf." He muttered behind her with thinly disguised disgust. She moved from the house liquor to reach the top shelf for him. She grabbed the bottle and turned back to face him.

She reached for a clean glass and began to pour, only for him to interrupt her once more. "Double. Pour yourself one too." He said it, and it didn't sound like a suggestion, more like an order.

Annie really wanted to argue back about her policy. She didn't drink with customers, especially when she was working. She wondered if he took kindly to being rejected, but she didn't want to risk it. She sighed as she poured him a double before pouring herself a single.

As she finished, she slid the glass across the bartop to him. He reached for the glass, brushing their fingers together as he picked it up. He swirled the liquor and didn't make a move to sip; instead, he tilted his head in her direction. "Working… you've been working at this place? How long?"

Annie grabbed her glass as she looked into his eyes. She wondered whether she should lie or not. Would he tell if she did? What would happen if she did? She settled on the truth, but kept her answers short. "Six months."

He looked at her as he brought his glass up to his lips. She watched, wondering whether he'd take his drink; instead, his eyes locked onto hers, not leaving them. "Hm, and I've yet to see you here until now. Isn't that interesting?"

Annie felt the nerves rising; usually, she'd take a sip of her drink to calm herself, but for some reason, she couldn't. Her hand only tightened around the glass. "Well, I usually work the bar. I mean, there's no reason for anyone to notice me, I'm not on stage naked." She said as a nervous smile stretched across her face.

She wondered if she spoke too much. The way his fangy smile widened told her she did, and that was more unnerving than before. He held his glass up toward her, and she raised hers to clink against his.

"To new friends, Annie." He said, toasting her.

Annie raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip and nearly choking on the burn. He swallowed down most of his glass as his eyes settled on her once more, taking her in. Before either of them could say anything else, a new voice cut in, and she felt grateful. There wasn't a day while she worked here that she prayed to hear that annoying accent more than she did now.

"Well, well, well, look at what we have here. What do we owe the pleasure, mate?" Butcher asked as he leaned against the bartop, blocking Annie from view. She could see the man's eyes flicker from her to Butcher almost immediately.

"William." The man said with a more strained smile. That grin looked more like the one from the alley, almost as if he was out of patience. "Don't do that. I visit more than anyone. Shouldn't I be considered a partner by now, considering how much I've spent here?"

Butcher chuckled, his usual cocky grin spreading across his bearded face, but his eyes warily met hers as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, mate, you visit. We have a private room for you, especially, so why is it that you're here and not there?"

Annie mentally prepared herself for their exchange. They looked like two stray dogs ready to tear each other apart over territory. She could see them circling each other for a fight. The man only glanced at her to Butcher. He chuckled as he raised his glass, taking another swig. "Oh, I can't enjoy a change of scenery?"

Butcher's back straightened, almost as if he were bracing himself for something. Annie took back her original thought; he was a cat with a high-arched back, hissing at the newcomer. The man must've noticed the change in Butcher's mood.

"Relax, mate…" He mocked as he raised his glass to take another swig, "I'm just enjoying a drink with company."

"It's hilarious that you can enjoy a drink in the room, but you're out here right when you want to make a point." Butcher drawled as the tension grew thicker between them. Annie looked at Butcher's profile and the man's smirking face. She felt out of place and trapped between them in some battle.

"If I wanted to make a point, I'll have iron between your eyes, wouldn't I, William?" The man said, before turning back to Annie, he grinned at her before finishing his glass. "I'll be seeing you, Annie." He said as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a roll of hundreds.

Annie watched him lazily thumb through the bills while looking into her eyes. It wasn't a question. It was a promise. He just promised in front of Butcher that he'd be seeing her. He slapped down more than enough on the bartop before retreating toward the private room across the club.

Butcher turned to face her and grabbed the glass from her hand. He took the rest of her glass back in one swallow before putting it back onto the bartop a bit too forcefully. He stroked his jaw as he shook his head, "Bloody hell."

Annie glanced from Butcher to over his shoulder at the private room; the man's fangy smile burned into her mind. Her heart raced as she looked at her Boss, "So… uh, who is he?" She questioned; she wanted to know. If he was planning on seeing her more, she should at least get to know why he made Butcher feel that way.

Butcher put an elbow on the bartop and rested his forehead in his hand. He sighed before answering. "Trouble, Annie. Remember when I said don't interact with those two men from before? EJ and Kevin? He is why you shouldn't." He answered her, but it made no sense. What was his name? What did he do? Why were they looking like they were going to fight each other? She had so many questions in her mind.

"So… who is he?" Annie asked; she pushed for more because nothing made sense to her. All she knew was that his smile matched the one from the alley earlier. The fangy grin as he barked at a kneeling man pleading for his life. But now, he was in Butcher's club and staring at her like he knew her, like he knew she was there too.

"Fuck, Annie. Homelander. That's Homelander." Butcher answered like that was common knowledge. She kept her mouth shut, although she wanted to ask her favorite question, 'so?' But she knew it wasn't the time or place. He continued as he moved to join her behind the bar.

Butcher poured himself another glass, "John Homelander. His father, Benjamin, owned half the fucking city back then, but he owns it all now. Listen closely, I'm telling you this once. Stay far away from that man; blood doesn't wash out of white so easily." He warned her.

Annie wanted to question him, but his voice was so unrecognizable. He sounded worried for her, truly, and not in the way where he'd laugh it off. It sounded serious. Butcher reached out for her shoulder, he squeezed it with a sigh, "Love, Homelander, he's dangerous. And not the type that you could call the police and expect them to help. I'm not doing this to scare you; I want you to understand the gravity of this situation."

Annie only nodded. She couldn't even attempt to speak. Butcher didn't act like this with anyone, so that was concerning.

Butcher cleared his throat and squeezed her shoulder tighter, briefly. "You're a smart girl." He said before letting go of her. He sighed before fixing her with his usual cocky smile, "Get back to work, I still got some fuckers that're waiting to burn through their wallets." He shouted toward her before going to his corner of the club, where he could look over the entirety of it.

Annie barely made it through the rest of her shift; her eyes naturally traveled toward the door to the private room where Kimiko was bartending for them. She felt grateful that Butcher had sent Kimiko there instead of her; she was sure she would've been cornered in there.

She forced herself to wipe down the bar and start the restock process for the next night. The lights suddenly turned all the way up; most of the customers groaned at the change in brightness.

Butcher eyed her from across the club as some of the customers started to file out, "OI! Annie, get home. I'll stock for you and Kimiko."

Annie groaned. She knew if Butcher did it, he'd move the bottles around. She and Kimiko had a system, and he fucks it up each time he does inventory. "But Butcher—" She was cut off as she started to protest.

Butcher only shook his head, waving her off. "Go on, love. I'll see you at work tomorrow." He shouted before turning to the section where he sat, right behind which was his office, where he disappeared.

Annie huffed as she forced herself to the employee locker room. As she gathered her things, she couldn't help but feel like something was going to happen. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but it felt big.

It felt as intense as the storm wracking through the city.

Chapter Text

Annie could barely sleep as she lay in her bed. She stared at the cracks in her popcorn ceiling because every time her eyes closed, she saw him. She saw the way Homelander looked at her, how it felt like he knew whether she was hiding something, how he was taking up more space in her mind than her ex.

Usually, the rain would calm her down, help her relax her mind, but it brought her back to the alley. She wondered whether they were the same person or if it was too fresh in her mind for her to be playing tricks on herself.

Another lightning strike kept her awake as she replayed her shift, more particularly when Homelander said her name. His voice saying her name was distracting; it made her cheeks warm in the darkness of her room. His stupid fangy smile kept replaying more than anything else.

He was rearranging things to his liking in her head, and it made her want to scrub her head like she'd do dishes just to get him out of her thoughts.

Annie shifted, tossing and turning a few more times before throwing her covers to the side and sitting on the edge of her bed. She ran her hand through her tangled hair and sighed as she thought about how she got here. She should've stayed in retail instead of applying at the club, although the money is nice, whatever this situation is, isn't.

She stood up and crossed her room to the fire escape. Her feet were cold against the hardwood flooring. She dusted off her windowsill before taking a seat. Her ass caught most of the chill through her panties. She stood up and pulled the large t-shirt she wore down to cover her ass before retaking her seat.

She raised the window a crack and noticed the worst of the storm had passed. The storm had calmed down to a drizzle. She shut her eyes as the cool air blew into her room, and she leaned out the window.

Annie hadn't been homesick in a while, so she knew she just missed her mother. Every day with her trapped in the hospital made her think of how happy they would've been if they had stayed in Iowa. The air was cold, but it wasn't chilly; she didn't need any extra layers to warm up. It felt good on her skin.

She heard the singing coming from the apartment to her right; the windows were open, and she could hear the voice. It sounded great.

Annie tilted her head, trying to see more of the apartment. Her eyes widened as a man climbed onto the fire escape with a beer in hand. He stood on the catwalk and leaned over the railing while humming.

She felt her cheeks flush again. He was wearing boxer briefs that clung nicely to him and a hoodie. He seemed to be enjoying the weather like she was, as his eyes were shut while he sang some song she didn't recognize.

Annie lifted her window higher to try to listen in, and the cheap window creaked loudly. It broke the comfortable silence aside from his singing; his eyes opened, and they snapped in her direction. She tried to avert her eyes and caught sight of his bare chest.

She realized he wasn't wearing a hoodie, but a zip-up jacket that he had left undone.

Annie's eyes snapped to his, and she felt herself blush as she looked at him. An embarrassing giggle ripped from her throat, and her neighbor tried and failed to hide his grin. They both laughed with each other over nothing.

"Hey, sorry if my singing woke you up." Her neighbor said as he took a swig of his beer. "Um, I didn't know anyone lived next door. I'm Alex." He said as he held his hand out to her.

Annie reached out, her hand wrapping around his to shake briefly. "Annie." She responded with a smile as she dropped his hand. He was warm, even though he stood on their catwalk in just boxers and a zip-up jacket. The cold probably hadn't gotten him yet.

Alex smiled before he took another swig of his beer. "Annie and Alex, huh? Next door neighbors." He said before his face flushed, "Oh, shit, that was weird… um… want some?" He offered as he tilted his bottle to her.

Annie laughed at his awkward proposal. She shook her head. "Yeah, no, I'm alright." She smiled as she watched him shift. They grew silent and seemed to just be in the moment, not speaking.

Alex broke it first. He stared at her almost like he could see into her apartment, "So, uh, this is weird. No one lived in 7b for years… when did you uh move here?" He questioned as he leaned against the railing.

"I moved here about 6 months ago," Annie answered as she remembered her first time considering it. Her father and mother had moved here long before she did. Death took her father first, making her mother the primary caregiver. Then, when it got her, Annie left Iowa, dropped out of college, and came to New York with nothing. "Well, this place is down the street from the hospital; my boss actually helped me find this place."

She thought about Butcher and how he and his wife, Becca, helped her locate the place. When she walked in, she hated it and didn't like how cheap it was, but Butcher convinced her that it was easier to live cheaply to help her mother out. She wished she had never listened to him; the walls are paper-thin, and she's seen more crime play out on the streets below her than the TV shows she watches.

Homelander oddly crossed her mind at the thought of crime.

Alex stared at her with a slight grin, "That's kind of cool. Your boss must be a pretty nice guy. So, where do you work?" He asked.

"Um, The Boys' Gentleman's Club… It's a strip club." Annie answered awkwardly. It was her time to be a bit embarrassed.

Alex saved her, though. He probably acted worse than she did. "OH! You work at that place? The Boys. I heard a lot of rumors, but I don't have enough time to go down there. What do you do there? Are you a dancer? Not in a bad way, I'd go visit—wait! Not to see you naked or anything, just like you know…" He trailed off and winced before taking a sip of his beer. "God, I'm totally fucking this up, huh?"

Annie smiled before she laughed. He seemed sweet. He was doing his best to be normal, but it only made it worse. "No, I'm not a dancer. I don't even think I have enough rhythm to do that. I'm a bartender. I just work at the bar." She said, hopefully, she was being reassuring. The look on his face was one of satisfaction, as if it was working.

"Cool. Cool. So, how do you like New York? I'm from here, I've never left. It's nice, but I think there's more to see out in the world. I don't know… better cities or something." Alex said, smiling at her.

Annie hummed to herself as she glanced toward the sky. The clouds had all dissipated, and the sky was pitch-black, with stars twinkling above them. She looked at him and gave a teasing grin, "Better than New York? It can't get better than the city that never sleeps. Shouldn't you know that by now?" She said.

"I mean, yeah. If we were in the city, and now the parts that aren't glorified. We're surrounded by crime and corruption, but if you like that, New York can't be beat." Alex said as he sipped from his bottle. It must've been empty because he set it down beside his window.

"Huh… hey, I have an early shift. If… I mean, if you're ever around or up at this time, I'm up. Insomnia sometimes, but we can hang out here…" Alex said as he gestured to the catwalk, "I have some lawn chairs I've been waiting to bust out." He said with a chuckle. "Good night, Annie."

"Night, Alex," Annie responded as she watched him climb back through the window into his apartment. She sat on her windowsill for a few more moments, feeling the breeze on her skin. Crime and corruption in the city. Those words brought her mind back to Homelander. Butcher said he was dangerous, and what's more dangerous than that.

Annie shook her head of those thoughts as she reached for her window. She shut it and walked back to her bed. She crawled beneath her covers and curled into herself on her side as she closed her eyes.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't be getting great sleep; she was plagued by Homelander's eyes and smile.

Chapter Text

Annie woke up in the morning, feeling as though she hadn't slept for weeks. Her dreams were hijacked by Homelander, with some being racier than others, and others featuring his facial features in different expressions. All her dreams ended the same; the last thing she saw was his fangy smile.

She sat up in bed and scrubbed her eyes with a groan. She wiped the crust from her eyes before collapsing back down, spread out across her full-size bed. Her brown eyes settled on the popcorn ceiling, tracing the patterns.

She honestly didn't feel like coming back for her next shift later on tonight. But she needed the money; she couldn't bear to see her mother this afternoon, knowing that she'd skipped work because of a man.

Annie climbed from her bed and rubbed her eyes again as she yawned. Her stomach growled, making itself known, and she finally stood up from the comfort of her bed. She scanned her scattered laundry before picking through the articles of clothing on the floor.

She lifted one of her work shirts, which was black with The Boys printed on it in cursive script; she had cut it evenly down the middle so she could tie it. She tossed it on the bed before finding a pair of jeans to go with it. She had her work outfit; now she needed clothes to visit her mother.

Annie's stomach growled once more as she rifled through the laundry. She settled on some yoga pants and a crewneck sweatshirt. It was black with the Iowa Hawkeyes logo stretched across the front. She padded from her bedroom into the living space. The kitchenette was separated by an island counter that would've looked nice with stools, but she had none.

She walked into her kitchen, pulled open the fridge, and scrunched her nose at the smell coming from it. "Ewww." She complained upon noticing the lack of sustenance stocked.

Annie made up her mind, she'd visit her mother and get something to eat when she got to the club. Her needs weren't essential. Her mother was. She toed into her beat-up Converse sneakers by the door before heading out.

The hallway smelled of mildew and piss. However, there was nothing for her to do; the landlord turned a blind eye to countless problems and situations. She wouldn't complain because he allowed her to pay her rent to him whenever she had the money. Annie held her breath as she walked down 7 flights of stairs before walking out of the lobby.

Getting outside was no better; the smell of trash was more prominent. At least it didn't smell like a bathroom. She glanced up and could spot her apartment window, but next to hers was Alex's. His window was oddly raised; he mustn't have worried about thieves, which was odd considering the area they lived in.

It was a poor and dangerous part of the city, but at least the hospital was nearby. Close as she could get on foot and by train. She just had to pass a few abandoned buildings, walk across some streets, travel a few blocks, and she'd be in the home stretch. It would be a straight walk for 30 minutes after that.

It gave her ample time to be in her head. She could think about work and worry about her mother. She could take in all the fresh air she wanted, while thoughts of being killed worried her. She wouldn't think about him, though; she was on her way to see her mother. Her mother was her happiness.

Annie walked past multiple abandoned buildings, some of which looked in worse shape than others. One of the more recently boarded-up ones sported a "For Sale" sign in front of it, accompanied by an agent who wore a sickening fake smile. Oddly enough, the sign was more of an eyesore than the buildings.

She glanced at her surroundings and made sure not to make eye contact with anyone she passed on the street. She was not going to be solicited by drug dealers or prostitutes. She was still surprised at how early they started working.

The longer she walked, the more people started to fill the sidewalks. She navigated through the growing crowd of commuters, people were yelling and arguing, others were rushing and running, and some were enjoying the walk.

Annie felt as if she were in New York for different circumstances; she could've fallen in love with the city. She could see the old building coming into view; it was the oldest hospital in New York.

The Bellevue Hospital was where her mother was, and the bills, although being a refuge for people in her situation, were still piling higher and higher. Annie walked through the automatic sliding doors and approached the receptionist, signing in before being admitted to proceed upstairs. She waited in the silent elevator, listening to the annoying royalty-free music, before getting off at the cancer ward.

Annie had been down the hall enough that she knew it like the back of her hand. Take a left off the elevator, walk past five doors, and then take a right. Her mother is the seventh and last door. Her mother's room was a private one, with windows that overlooked the street. She sometimes walked in to see her clad in her oxygen mask, people watching from high up.

Annie knocked before opening the door and peeking inside. Donna January grinned from her place in bed. Her whole face lit up when she saw her daughter. She had never seen her mother as pale and frail as she was.

"Hey, Mom," Annie said softly as she closed the door behind her. She came to her bedside and leaned over, kissing her forehead, "How are you feeling today?"

Donna smiled as she cupped her daughter's face. Her thumb tracing the fullness of her cheek, "Like I've been hit by a truck, but that's every morning. How about you? How's my princess doing?" She asked as she used her other hand to push herself up in bed, using the pillows as a backrest.

"Um…" Annie started; she couldn't say how she felt. She was mentally and physically exhausted, starving and tired, but one look at her mother showed her that she would never be tired like her. "I-I'm fine… just some customers, you know."

The lie felt like ash on her tongue. It brought back memories of her father teasing her about her going to combust in flames if she kept doing it. She rarely cursed because her mother was a professional at sticking a bar of soap between her teeth.

"Sweetheart, you work way too much. You need to start taking care of yourself." Donna chidded as she ran her fingers through Annie's tangled hair. "You can't pour from an empty cup. You'll run yourself ragged, you hear me?" She tilted Annie's head up.

"You hear me, Annie January?" Donna repeated, trying to sound stern in her tone.

That drew a smile onto Annie's face. She nodded as she leaned her face further into her mother's hand. "I hear you, Mom." She responded with a giggle.

"See, there's my perfect princess. The world needs to see your smile and understand what makes you so deserving of all those awards. Just wait until I get better, we can pick up your modeling career again." Donna said as she let go of Annie to shift over in bed. She patted the free space beside her, urging her daughter to climb in with her.

Annie did and made sure not to bear much weight on her mother's side. She wrapped an arm loosely around her mother's waist while her head was pillowed on her shoulder. "Whoa. We can discuss that later, Mom. What I want to know is what my favorite lady did yesterday?" She asked, trying to change the subject. She wasn't sure she'd even want to go back to modeling; it was enough when men oogled her from behind a bar, but blown up all over New York was something else entirely.

Donna January was not meant to be an idle woman; she always had something to do, to keep her mind and hands busy. She wasn't one to stay still and waste away. The doctors have tried to keep her on a strict schedule. But she wouldn't let them control her; they could dictate her diet and exercise routines, but she refused to let them control her freedom, either.

Donna was known to roam the hospital and find solace with other patients in the cancer ward, trying to be a helping hand or a listening ear, or even a praying buddy.

"Well, yesterday was boring, but one of my nurses actually gave me a few new magazines, crosswords, and puzzles to do. If you have time, there's a 1000-piece Times Square puzzle that we can do." Donna said excitedly.

Annie loved that her mother was so social and friendly. She was able to make friends with other patients. At least she was able to talk to someone and relate with others while she was confined in the hospital. "Hmm, I can do that, Mom. Let's see the magazines you've got, huh. Any of the covers look exciting?"

Donna reached over for her bedside table, grabbing the stack of magazines. She thumbed through them, showing Annie the covers briefly before stopping. "The nurse brought me this one because I told her how much of a looker your father used to be. And she thought I'd appreciate looking at Forbes because of this guy."

She held the magazine up, and Annie tried to control her face as she looked at the man in the magazine. The issue read Successes under 40, and on the front cover was the man with the fangy smile, John Homelander.

Homelander leaned against a black vehicle that Annie couldn't identify. In bold, white letters, the headline read, New York's Very Own, John Homelander: Taking the Reins. Annie's eyes scanned the cover as she looked at his smile. He wore a suit much like the one she had seen the night before, but he was missing a tie. The city skyline was behind him.

The man from last night was different from the persona he had on this cover, and that frightened her.

"Isn't he just a looker, Annie? See, this is the guy I can see you with - someone with a nice smile and kind hands. He's rich and under 40…" Donna said as she flipped open the magazine and swiped through the pages, "He is 30. Single… Annie."

Annie stared at the other photos that littered across the glossy pages, "Yeah, I don't think he's my type, Mom…" She said, lying again. How could she tell her mother that she witnessed this man threaten someone in the alley, and then came to the club and made her feel uneasy?

The next few hours passed quickly. Soon, her mother was given breakfast, and then lunch, which she shared with her. Annie tried to tell her mother she needed strength, but her mother could see that she was getting skinny and frail. It hurt when she had to leave, but work was fast approaching.

"Be safe, Annie. You know you can tell me anything." Donna said as she watched her daughter climb from the bed. She yawned as Annie kissed her forehead and helped her lie back in bed.

"Of course, Mom. I'll tell you everything." Annie promised as the lie felt heavy on her shoulders. She watched her mother snuggle beneath her blankets for her nap and forced herself to leave the room. It felt painful to go, but she needed a job to pay her mother's bills.

Annie knew she'd see her tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The following few shifts at the club passed in a blur and were something that Annie was oddly grateful for. She didn't have to deal with any more out-of-the-ordinary customers, and she was nightmare-free for the past few days, but she had a feeling that she was being watched.

As each night passed, she noticed that Homelander hadn't returned, and it made her uneasy. She hoped that none of her coworkers noticed her shift in mood or attitude; she prayed that she hadn't been nervous. Each shift, she watched the doors, and every time they opened, she braced herself, expecting to see those cold glacier eyes with that sharp smile.

But it was never him.

Annie pushed those thoughts from her mind as she strolled into the club. They had half an hour before the doors opened, and she could touch up her makeup and change into her uniform. Her eyes scanned the club for Butcher. When she believed the coast was clear, she made her way toward the employees' room.

"Oi, Goldilocks!" Butcher's voice called out from his office up the steps. Annie stayed still, hoping he was just calling out names, assuming it was her. She remained there until a few beats later, and he stepped out of his office. He inclined his head, "A word. Now."

Annie groaned as she turned to the office. She followed him to it. Butcher stepped aside to let her pass, then shut the door behind them. She knew it was serious since the door was closed.

She took her time to look around the office, which she's been in more than a few times. It was cluttered with papers, photos, books, clothes, and other items related to the club. It smelled no better than the club; old cigar and cigarette smoke clung to the furniture in there, and there were wet, sticky stains from the old liquor bottles.

Butcher took his place behind his desk before gesturing to the free chair across from it. Annie looked down at the chair that looked mysteriously cleaner than the others, which seemed out of place for him. She slowly perched on the edge of the chair before staring at him blankly.

It was a stretch of silence between them before Butcher rubbed his face. He spoke into his hands loudly, "You're in deep shite, you know that, yeah?" He asked as he looked up at her.

Annie's eyebrows furrowed immediately. She frowned at him, "What?" She asked, confused, "I didn't even do anything!" She protested.

Butcher leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself. It was humorless and sounded cold to her ears; it wasn't his usual tone. "Doesn't matter, Goldilocks. He thinks you did." He ran his hands through his hair; he looked tousled more than normal, like he had been losing sleep. "They came in the other day… didn't want the bells and whistles. When they didn't see you at the bar, they split."

Annie tilted her head. She tried to think of what he was saying, then her spine straightened. She felt like a spider made of ice was inching its way down her back. "He? Because I don't know a 'they,' Butcher."

"They work for him. You know, a 'they.' He just hadn't been seen yet. Usually, the visits are far and in between, but it's getting to be a little… consistent, now." Butcher rubbed his jaw, scratching at his beard, "Look, Homelander doesn't pay attention to just anyone without reason, love. If he's got his eyes on you, there's a reason behind it. So, you're going to tell me, yeah?"

Annie shifted her eyes from his as she swallowed. She resisted the urge to wipe her hands down the sides of her jeans. "I don't know why. I never met him before."

Butcher snorted and slammed his hand on his desk, "Bollocks! John fuckin Homelander waltzes in here and makes a beeline for you, and that's just a fuckin' coinwinkadink?" He snapped suddenly.

Annie eyed him warily and swallowed. She felt as though she was being interrogated, as if she were on trial. Butcher was interrogating her and revealing a whole new side to himself. Usually, he'd been nice-ish and kind, maybe even offensive at times, but now he felt different. "I-I swear… my first time meeting him was a couple of shifts ago." She made the promise while looking at his face.

"Fuckin' Hell." Butcher cursed as he reached up and rubbed his eyes. He rested his elbows on his desk to rub his temples with the tops of his fingers, with his eyes shut. They snapped open as he exhaled, "Alright, once Homelander gets interested in something, it takes him a while to move on. So, I'm going to fuckin' help you. These are the rules I'm giving you so you don't look like a deer standing in front of a truck, yeah?"

Annie swallowed and nodded stiffly as she waited for Butcher to continue. "You will see him here again. He has a reason, and that reason is you, Goldilocks. You keep your head down, pour his drinks, smile, and move on, yeah?"

Annie nodded once more. When he was serious like this, she tried not to push his buttons the way he pushed hers. Butcher scratched his beard again, "He'll try to corner you during work hours. Relax. I'll be there in a heartbeat. Homelander gets off on that shit, making people scared of him; he likes to see them sweat."

Butcher stood up and reached over to squeeze her shoulder, "Go on, get changed, love." He said, patting her.

Annie nodded with a small smile as she left the office to go to the employees' locker room. She sat on the bench as she pulled her sweater over her head. She dug into her backpack for her work shirt, put it on like a jacket, and then grabbed the edges to tie a bow in front. It pulled her breasts together, showing off her cleavage.

She stood up and walked over to the mirror to touch up her makeup. As the door opened behind her, she could see Hughie's goofy grin over her shoulder as he walked up behind her. He peered over her shoulder to see her doing her makeup, "Wow. I don't know how you and Vicky can do that wing thing on your eye without poking it." He teased her as he switched shirts.

Annie stuck her tongue out at his back before responding. "Does your girlfriend let you hover over her while she's doing her makeup? If she does, Victoria is a better person than I am. I would've punched you by now."

Hughie rolled his eyes as he turned to stare at her through the mirror. He straightened his shirt before tucking his hands away in his pockets. "I'd never thought you'd be so violent, Annie." He said with a chuckle, "Oh, I meant to ask you a while ago, was that fucking John Homelander at the bar? That guy doesn't like to be seen here, but the fact that he was at the bar was insane. Does he tip well?"

Annie shrugged as she began to apply mascara, widening her eyes to get to her lashes. "No idea, didn't really count it. Grabbed it and closed his tab. Um, first time I've ever heard of the guy, honestly." She admitted.

Hughie gasped as he looked at her, "Oh! I keep forgetting you're not from here. Well, quick history lesson." He said as he excitedly moved beside her, "John Homelander is like beyond rich. So rich, no one knows how. His dad, Benjamin Homelander, took over Vought International. He sold some stocks back in the day, but obviously, Homelander, like tripled what his father did as a businessman, and no one knows how, but it's cool, you know?"

Annie couldn't be interested in that, when the man Hughie was talking about was apparently some kind of stalker or murderer, because why does a businessman own a gun? She hummed as she glanced at him in the mirror, "Sounds cool, Hughie. Victoria is as interested in this guy's life as you are?" She teased him.

Hughie raised a hand from his pocket to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck, "Well, uh, Vicky's father hates him. Like it's weird and super complicated, so I try not to talk about him in front of them. Vicky thinks it's admirable that he managed to flip the business side of things, but of course, she doesn't tell her dad that." He answered with another shrug.

Annie finished her makeup and turned to face him. She gestured to herself, "What do you think? Your girlfriend will leave you for me?" She joked.

Hughie could only chuckle as she walked with her from the locker room. They passed the kitchen, where Frenchie was with Kimiko. They were sharing an intimate moment before the doors opened, "You know, Vicky talks about your ass more than the guys that come in here, so I might have to watch you. As my friend, don't steal my girlfriend from me, Annie." He said with a mock pout before laughing again. "But to answer your question, you're very pretty."

Annie rolled her eyes as a smile pulled at her lips. She bumped his shoulder with hers as they walked into the central area of the club. She knew Hughie had had a crush on her hard after his girlfriend, Robin, had broken up with him; well, they called it quits. It was a long stretch of pinning on his side before Victoria came and swept him up.

Sometimes, she wondered if she should've given him a chance. Well, she didn't think much about it now; he was happily in love, and she wished them the best. She actually liked Victoria a bit more than she liked him.

Annie moved to the bar and began setting up for her and Kimiko. She wiped down the counters and the bartop, then ensured the glasses were clean before organizing the bottles of liquor. Kimiko whistled as she came around with some containers of boiled peanuts for the customers. She set them down on the bartop and put some napkins beside them.

"You and Frenchie, huh?" Annie teased as she bumped her hip against Kimiko's. She thought Frenchie and she were cute; he was trying to teach her English while struggling with his own accent. But Kimiko was doing a good job at teaching him sign language. Frenchie's favorite moment was when he learned to sign 'fuck off.'

"Let me know when you guys make it official, and we can all celebrate. Probably here, I guess? I'll make the drinks." Annie offered.

Kimiko nodded as she started to tie her hair up. Once she did, she shrugged and smiled, sighing a simple 'Okay' in response. Annie stared at her mouth before realizing Kimiko wasn't talking; she switched it to the most commonly used thumbs-up gesture.

"Shoot. I’m sorry Kimiko. I forgot…" Annie said, embarrassed, she signed back a 'sorry'. Kimiko usually responds via texts, signing, or she'd write a note.

Kimiko gestured to the doors as Hughie dimmed the lights. Annie nodded, knowing that the club was about to open. She hoped she could get through this shift without seeing Homelander, but in her life, hoping wasn't doing much for her.

Her dreams hadn't come true yet; they usually ended shattered at her feet, but she didn't dwell as the doors opened.

Chapter Text

The club, like every weekend, was packed to the brim; it was busy, but Kimiko and Annie handled rushes like this on a good day. They were good at their jobs and kept things going smoothly with the system they had in place. They were able to dance and move around each other as they made drink after drink.

It was poetry in motion.

Annie would've never thought she'd enjoy being a bartender as much as she loved being in front of a camera, but there was a thrill, a rush to it all. But she couldn't focus, not since Butcher said Homelander would be back. Every time she worked through the crowd and it thinned, she looked to the front door to see if Homelander was there.

She felt like she had seen him a few times, but it was maybe her mind playing tricks on her. But she swore she had seen his smile, or at the very least, his eyes; no one else has eyes like his.

Annie turned her head to the stage as a girl spun around the pole upside down. She raised her eyebrows as men drowned her in a waterfall of cash. As she watched the routine play out on stage, she neglected her bar duties.

A throat cleared beside her, and she turned to focus on the sound. Her eyes started at his incredibly white button-down before traveling up the length of his chest. She met those eyes from a couple of nights back.

Homelander stood by the bar, leaning on it with his elbows, watching her intently. He raised his eyebrow, but he didn't say a thing. He smirked, waiting for her to acknowledge him. Annie didn't like the way he was watching her, like he was a lion waiting to pounce. She noticed she couldn't see his fangs because his mouth was closed.

Annie let the silence stretch a little longer in the pulsing bar before clearing her throat. "Erm… what can I get you?" She said without looking him in the eye again.

Homelander's right hand tapped on the bartop as he spoke in a whisper. "Whiskey. Neat."

Annie's eyes were drawn to his hand. She noticed the '7' tattooed on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. She tilted her head before realizing what she was supposed to be doing. She moved on autopilot as she grabbed a clean glass and reached for the top-shelf liquor once more.

She poured the liquid, watching as it sloshed and pooled at the bottom of the glass. She slid it toward him, and his fingers brushed hers again. This time, an electric shock ran through her body.

Homelander didn't lift his glass much, as he had last time; he still observed her, "I think you don't like me much, Annie." He said as he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a sip, savoring it, and swallowing it down.

Annie's eyes shot toward his as she blinked, "WHAT? Erm, what?" She asked as she shifted against the bar. Butcher's words from earlier echoed in her mind, he likes to make them sweat. She did not want him to see how uncomfortable she was. "Why would you say that?" She asked in return as her eyes fell away.

Homelander smiled this time. She could see the fangs peeking out from beneath his top lip. "You won't look at me for more than a few seconds." He said, and Annie couldn't tell whether he was being playful or warning her. She knew it was impolite, but his eyes felt like they could pierce into her soul.

"I just…" Annie started before she swallowed, met his eyes, and forced a small smile on her lips. "I try not to stare at the customers while they're drinking. It's impolite, you know?"

Homelander hummed at her response. Annie wondered if he was deciding to believe her or not; she was never the best liar. So, she tried to avoid situations where she had to lie. He leaned in, and their faces were a few inches apart, "That's a rule?" He whispered.

Annie's throat went dry as his voice wrapped around her; somehow, in the loud club, she was able to hear him perfectly. "Y-yes." She managed to squeak out.

"So, you're always this formal?" Homelander said as he continued to study her. He leaned back to get a better look at her. He drained the rest of his glass before tapping the bartop.

Annie worked on his refill, glad for something she could do with her hands. "With customers. Yes." She managed to pour the whiskey with a steady hand before sliding it to him. She was grateful for another customer who managed to get her attention for an order.

"You from here? New York, I mean?"

Annie glanced over her shoulder at Homelander. It was the fact that she could feel him watching her that was throwing her off. "No."

"Hm…" Homelander uttered before taking another slow sip, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Didn't think so. Got a little accent there." He commented.

Annie couldn't believe that his short sentence was enough to make her blush. She felt the heat rising to her face, but she was glad for the dim atmosphere. She had other customers join Homelander at the bar, and she quickly attended to them, popping off caps to bottles and sliding them over.

"Did you want anything else from me?" Annie asked as she tried to avoid lingering eye contact. She was sure he knew what she was doing, but she didn't care. She had to act like he was every other customer and not a man she had witnessed committing a heinous act in a back alley.

"So, what if I wasn't a customer? We'd be able to have a conversation?" Homelander suddenly asked as he swirled the liquor in his glass. Annie narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was drunk, but then again, he was rather broad, at least bigger than her.

"I…" Annie began, trying to come up with another lie. She was flustered; she knew it was because she stared far too long into his eyes. "I can't talk to anyone who met me through my job, you know."

Homelander tilted his glass back, finishing the rest in a large swallow before he set it back on the bar. "What, another one of your rules?" He asked as he tilted his head.

"Oi! Since you don't follow rules, why stop someone else, mate?" Annie was grateful for Butcher's surprise appearance. The man slid onto a stool beside Homelander; he wore his cocky grin, but it looked sharper, almost threatening.

Homelander took a few moments to pull his attention from Annie, but he did, and his smirk lingered before falling almost immediately. "William," He announced, "Always a pleasure to see you."

Butcher raised his eyebrows, "Can't say the same, unfortunately."

Homelander chuckled, but it hardly felt genuine. It felt forced as he looked at Butcher, "You wound me, William."

"Oh yeah?" Butcher said with a smirk, "Shame that it's never fatal, hm?" He got comfortable on the stool, effectively ruining whatever was between Annie and Homelander. The latter seemed angrier about the interruption than the former.

Annie shyly glanced over at Homelander and could see the clench of his jaw. She looked around, noticing the dancers the men drooled over, all of these women who would happily entertain him, but he wanted to bother her. Why her in the first place?

"Oi, Blondie, twice in one month? You're turning this into a habit, yeah? What are you doing here?" Butcher questioned Homelander directly; there was no beating around the bush between the men.

Homelander rolled his eyes before turning his attention to Annie. He openly watched her, barely sparing Butcher a glance while answering. “Drinking… socializing…” His eyes traced her face, never dipping below her lips, "Getting to know your lovely staff."

Butcher slammed his hand on the bartop, but Homelander didn't even look at him. "Not exactly your forte, mate." He said with a slight sneer.

Homelander's fangy grin returned; it stretched slowly as he ran his tongue over the sharpness of his teeth. "Oooh, rude, William. I've been told I can be quite charming, at times." He said, still keeping his eyes on her.

Butcher noticed it and rolled his shoulders, "Oi… take a break." He ordered at Annie's.

It took her a few moments to realize he was telling her to leave before things got out of hand. She blinked with surprise, covering her face. She gestured to the crowd forming around her and Kimiko, "But I—"

"Now! Take Kimiko with you." Butcher shouted, and Annie nodded, walking over to her. She signed something and dragged her along to the back room, where the employees' locker room was located. As soon as both girls disappeared from sight, much to the customers' dismay, he turned back to Homelander. "What the fuck do you want with her?"

Homelander arched his eyebrow as he looked at the glass he finished. He should've savored his liquor a minute longer, "That's rather personal, no? You don't see me asking about… Rebecca, do you?" He purred and watched Butcher's hands tighten.

Butcher narrowed his eyes as he leaned closer into Homelander's face. "You don't get to mention my wife after the bullshite you pulled. The skeletons in your closet don't come close to what's hiding in mine." He said between clenched teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself and cleared his throat. "Annie… stay away from her. She's not your type."

Homelander's smirk remained glued to his face. It was nice seeing Butcher lose his aloof and cooky attitude. He knew the man was still sore from that incident a few years prior. "No?" He reached up to stroke his jaw, "Funny. You know my type, William? You're an expert in what I bring to bed?"

Butcher exhaled harshly through his nose. He slipped his eyes shut before steepling his hands on the bartop, "Mate, listen. I don't give a fuck what you do beyond these walls as long as my wife is fine, burn this whole city to the ground. But her…" He pointed toward the employees' locker rooms. "Annie, that girl, she's not a part of your world." He warned as he met Homelander's eyes.

Homelander shook his head in amusement, "Quite a speech, William." He chuckled as his eyes glinted, darkening. "You think outside these walls that the world is a nice place?" He questioned.

"You know I don't. It's never been a nice place, but she could find someone better than you in it. You’re a fuckin’ murderer, a cutthroat… The only reason I let you in here is that you made amends with Becca, and your money's still green. Other than that, I wouldn't bat an eyelash if you ended up on the news in a body bag." Butcher said as he shrugged indifferently.

Homelander nodded to himself as he considered Butcher's response. He played with his empty glass on the bartop for a few moments. He ran his fingers along the glass before reaching into his pocket. He met the grizzled Brit's eyes as he counted out a few bills.

He pushed himself off the stool and put his hand on Butcher's shoulder, pinning the cash beneath his palm, "She's an angel, William. Sometimes angels need a little Hell." He muttered as he walked away.

Butcher caught the cash before it hit the ground. He balled the hundreds in his hand before he dropped them in Homelander's empty glass. He glanced back to ensure the man had left the club; he watched the doors for a few minutes before huffing.

Annie wasn't a part of Homelander's world.

But even he knew the man would ensure she was safe.

Chapter Text

Butcher came to get Annie and Kimiko to finish their shifts. The air felt more tense now, but Annie didn't understand why. She hadn't seen Homelander when she got back. She supposed he was gone. They both settled back into their rhythm and were set to finish the last rush before the club closed.

Annie curiously looked to Butcher, who returned to his VIP perch to watch over the club. His jaw was clenched tight, and he looked more tense than usual. She wondered who Homelander was to him to cause him to be so angry. She wanted to pry and question, but then she didn't want to open herself up to more.

She already had a target on her because Homelander had her in his crosshairs. She shook her head as she remained on autopilot and finished up the night. She closed out her tabs and waved at Kimiko and Frenchie, who left through the front door wrapped around each other.

Next was MM, who locked the front door, inclining his head to let her know she'd have to go through the back to leave. Hughie stuck around as he cleaned up the DJ station. He basically had to move all the bras into a bucket to be returned to the girls before their next shift.

"You heading out, Annie?" Hughie asked as he pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie.

Annie finished wiping down the counters one last time before tossing the rag in a bucket beneath them. "Yup!" She said with a grin, "Aren't you usually gone before me?" She questioned as she walked into the locker room.

Hughie followed and watched as she just tugged her hoodie over her head. "Yeah, but I'm late and I thought you could use a ride." He offered with a small smile.

Annie thought he was sweet. All of her coworkers at the Boys were sweet; she was thankful to each one, but she hated being a burden. She shook her head, "It's fine, Hughie. Go tell Victoria how much I miss her." She answered while they walked out the back door.

Hughie snorted at her teasing, "Yeah, bye. I'll tell my girlfriend, her wife misses her." He said with a slight wave. "I'll see you later, Annie."

Annie watched him as he walked toward his car. She remembered when they talked about buying a new one, he did donuts in the parking lot with the help of Butcher and MM, trying to teach him how to drift. Hughie honked the horn in farewell.

She huffed as she looked around the deserted parking lot. Her apartment wasn't that far, but it was about 3 in the morning. She noticed that some parts of the sidewalk were slick and the streetlamps reflected in them.

Annie glanced at the bus stop, but she knew they would be far apart and in between. She could just walk; all she had to do was keep her head down, as usual. As she started to walk down the sidewalk, the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise.

She glanced left to right and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Until she glanced over her shoulder, a black car was parked down the block. She could hear it running, but couldn't see through the windshield. She couldn't even know the make from this far.

The worst came to her mind, Butcher pissed Homelander off, now he's going to kill her. She sped up her strides, but not too much to make it seem like she was spooked, even if she was. She tucked her hands away into her hoodie's kangaroo pocket, fiddling with her apartment keys and sticking one up between her fingers. If she had to, she'd stab someone with her keys; she didn't care.

Annie glanced over her shoulder, and the car was gone. She took a deep breath before finding a brick wall to rest against; she was seeing things, she had to be. Perhaps she imagined Homelander popping up too often. As she was lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the man leaning against the crosswalk sign.

It wasn't until the smell of cigarette smoke hit her nose that she realized.

Annie couldn't help but jump. Her eyes shot to the man in front of her. Her eyes ran down the length of his body; his white dress shirt was undone at his throat, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his forearms.

"You're leaving so soon?" Homelander questioned, his voice was almost teasing.

Annie forced herself to meet his intense eyes, "That tends to happen when someone's shift ends." She responded, trying to maintain her composure.

Homelander pushed off the sign to stand a few feet in front of her. He took another drag of his cigarette before flicking the rest down in between them. He stepped forward, muffing the butt out. "Cute." He said as he grinned down at her, "You know it's a dangerous city. You shouldn't be walking alone."

"I can handle myself," Annie responded shortly.

Homelander's eyes brightened before a hint of amusement shone in them. His mouth twitched, "Oh, is that so?"

Annie stared at him as she nodded without answering. The silence grew between them, and she knew she should've left. She should push him away and act like he's just another customer being too friendly, but she couldn't.

It's like his eyes pinned her there. They didn't move a muscle; it was almost like how she had seen him and Butcher act. Finally, his usual smile stretched across his face as he tilted his head, "You aren't afraid of me, are you?"

Annie's tongue darted out to lick her lips. She wanted to say no, she tried to lie, but the word wouldn't come out. It was as if she had lost her faculties of mind. The truth was that she was afraid. And it wasn't because of how he looked in the alley during the storm or the horror stories Butcher had hinted at.

No, she was afraid because a tiny part of her was interested.

That was more frightening than anything else in her life.

Annie needed to go, put some separation between them, but her body didn't obey. She could feel Homelander watching her, expecting an answer. But she couldn't come up with one; her throat felt like it had closed up on her.

The only sound between them was their breathing, hers was louder than his, and the natural hum of the city. Homelander gazed at him, his eyes tracing down her face and throat before settling on her eyes again. "You are very interesting, Annie. I can tell you're different."

Annie opened her mouth to reply, only to close her mouth with an audible click as his fingers brushed against her throat, his palm following the path of his fingers before cradling her jaw. His thumb rubbed her chin and her bottom lip. All she could do was stare exactly like how Butcher didn't want her to: a deer in headlights as his thumb caressed her skin.

Homelander studied her, his glacier blue eyes flickering with something unreadable in them. "Come… I'll drive you home." He said it as if it were the most innocent request. As if it weren't hard for her to agree.

Annie's lips parted as she stared up at him. She knew she couldn't let him find out where she lived, "I… It's fine. I'll walk…" She muttered and made no move to leave his hold.

Homelander still held her, the hand on her jaw slipping down to her throat; his touch was gentle on her, and that's what was messing with her head. Annie breathed in hard as his other hand found her waist. She could feel his thumb circling over her side.

"You realize you're shaking?" He murmured softly. His thumb continued its path, tracing her cheekbone, swiping down to the corner of her lips, pulling at the skin there slightly. "You're so soft."

Annie couldn't stop her shiver; she knew it wasn't fear. God, who knew she'd ignore all those bible study classes her mother had her attend. She learned exactly this: the Devil disguising himself to corrupt you. "I-I should get going…" She whispered, hoping he wouldn't stop her.

Homelander snorted softly through his nose as he stepped back, letting her go. He couldn't stop himself as he reached forward to pat her cheek once more, "There are monsters out at this time of night. Be careful walking home, sweetheart."

Annie forced herself to walk away from him. Her shoes echoed on the pavement as she quickly ran to put some space between them. She didn't want to think about the gentleness of his touch or how it felt.

She made the mistake of letting him touch her, and regretfully, she wanted more.

Chapter Text

Homelander was the Boss, that was unmistakable; no one saw him unless that meant their time was ticking to an end. Yet, some people needed reminding of where their loyalties lay. Everything that ran through New York had to be run by him first, yet some people didn't realize life wasn't a video game.

There were no infinite lives; sooner or later, the Devil comes to collect souls.

Homelander stood in front of his floor-to-ceiling length windows. He held a baseball bat loosely in his grasp. Behind him, he could hear the telltale sounds of whimpers and whines coming out muffled from a gagged mouth.

"You know, Daniel, your bosses grew too lax. They seem to forget who is in charge. This isn't the fucking 80s. The Twins aren't dealing with Benjamin Homelander. No, they're dealing with me." Homelander snarled as he turned to face the bound and gagged man.

"But I get it. Some people need visual cues. They learn after realizing consequences can happen. Daniel, I want you to send this message to the Twins. I am not my father. I am far worse than he was." Homelander promised, darkly as his lips curled over his teeth. He tightened his hands around the wooden baseball bat.

Homelander cocked the bat back and swung as hard as he could, aiming for Daniel's kneecaps. The sound of the wood making contact with his knee was just as satisfying as watching a long homerun down dead center. The crack of his kneecap shattering reminded Homelander of a baseball leather snapping the same way.

Daniel's screams were cut off by the gag tied across his mouth. The man's eyes were filled with tears as they streamed down his face.

Homelander continued to swing at the bound man, which brought him back in time when he was sure his future was college baseball and maybe breaking into the Majors playing for the Yankees. He could see his name on the pinstripe jerseys. He had the talent, but he had his father's taste for power.

Homelander knew when he was supposed to be a man. It's when he had to pick up his mother's bullet hole-riddled body in front of the grocery store. He remembered the way he changed; baseball was nonexistent, and school took a back seat. He came to his father, stared into Benjamin Homelander's cold eyes, and asked for the brand.

He felt the '7' in the webbing between his index finger and thumb throb. He didn't shed a tear as it was tattooed there. It was a permanent reminder of where his loyalties lay, and he expected everyone else who joined to do the same.

Homelander thought about his death; there was no doubt that a few hundred people wanted him on a metal slab. He could feel the coroner cutting him open from sternum to navel, and it scared him. Who'd mourn him? Who'd show up to his funeral? He wasn't stupid; he knew half of the people in the 7 were there because of who he was. When he wasn't that guy, they'd flip like everyone else.

If he weren't the Boss, he'd be nothing.

"No one can take your name from you, Johnny. Look at me, I fought for this country, and what did I get for it? Forgotten. But you, no, you'll always be a Homelander, and you'll make everyone remember our fucking name. They're going to try and stop you, and don't let them kill you before you get caught." His father said to him when he was younger. They sat in the back of an SUV while Homelander realized who Benjamin Homelander was. His father was cold and emotionless; he had warmth for his mother and him, but it all died the day his mother died.

The biggest lesson he learned from his father was that your name was never enough. They stood in the city morgue, and his father counted every toe tag, listing off the people they knew that betrayed the family. It all ended the same way; their name couldn't save them.

The crack of wood on wood pulled Homelander from his trip down memory lane. The chair had toppled over to its side, and he had been beating the back of the chair for the last few swings. He growled and wanted to break the bat over his knee; he had been distracted lately.

His mind kept wandering to a certain blonde.

Homelander hadn't seen her in a week or two; the days all blended together, and it drove him mad. He remembered how soft her skin felt under his hand, and he imagined what the rest of her would feel like—look like under him. The thought was enough to make him want to grind his teeth.

Daniel wasn't screaming anymore; his voice had died out. He could only look at Homelander with bloodshot and teary eyes. His breath was ragged as he gasped like a dying man. His legs were mangled with bones sticking out of the skin and blood running down them.

Homelander squatted to the balls of his feet. He used the end of the bat to poke into Daniel's cheek, "You go back and tell your bosses that if what's owed to me is late for even a second, I will wipe that little gang off the map. Understand?" He asked as he tapped the bat against the man's cheek.

Daniel gave him a shaky nod, and he breathed hard through his nose.

Homelander rose to his feet and tossed the bat down beside Daniel's mangled, bound body. He cleared his throat, "Moskowitz! Franklin!" He shouted out, and his voice echoed. He frowned as he stepped away from the plastic covering the ground and his couches.

Usually, Homelander didn't take care of business where he lay his head, but it needed to be done. If he were paranoid, he'd be concerned about the lives he's taken before, but he didn't believe in being haunted.

It took several moments before the elevator doors opened, and Kevin and Reggie walked into his home. They were waiting inside the metal box, keeping it suspended outside his penthouse. They're rarely allowed here. Homelander was sure only one other person had been in his home, and that was coincidentally for a personal reason. He never made that same mistake.

"Phone book?" Homelander asked as he held his hand out.

Kevin handed over the phonebook with a slight nod of acknowledgment. He stepped back to join Reggie as Homelander weighed it in his hand. Homelander hummed as he walked back over to Daniel's limp form. "Daniel. Hey. You awake, buddy? You're not in shock yet?" He questioned.

Homelander reached out with an expensive shoe to nudge the man in the face, waiting for a reaction. When he received a groan and eyes fluttering, he grinned. "That's it. Good boy." He moved back as he smiled down at the limp man, "It's time to give you that message. You'll be a great messenger, won't you?"

Daniel wheezed and stared up at Homelander with glassy eyes.

Homelander smirked before he adjusted the phonebook across the man's face. He reached behind his back and pulled his ivory-handled pistol free from his waistband. He aimed at the phone book, he cocked the slide back, and he squeezed the trigger.

The phonebook's pages were torn through by the bullet that embedded itself in the man's forehead. Blood and brain splattered on the plastic beneath them. Homelander sneered as he straightened up and holstered his gun back into his waistband. He picked up his bat and twirled it in his grasp.

Homelander tossed the bat to Reggie, who fumbled before catching it. "Clean this shit up. Drop him off right in front of the Twins' place." He commanded as he kicked up the edges of the plastic sheet. "Make sure no blood stains my fucking hardwood floors." He threatened as he watched them move toward the sheet.

They grunted and struggled as they wrapped Daniel up in the plastic sheet, along with the chair. They groaned as they lifted his dead weight. Homelander could hear their complaints as he stalked toward his panoramic windows. He was about to walk onto the balcony before Kevin called out to him.

"Boss, Klara said, give her a call. She did pick-ups today and apparently has news about something." Kevin mumbled as he and Reggie managed to march out the door with Daniel's body.

Homelander didn't acknowledge him as he grunted before shoving open the clear door that led to his balcony. He stepped outside and leaned against the railing. He tilted his head back as he took in the cool air. He didn't want to speak to Klara; he had no time for her bitching and whining about something.

He thought of Annie as he watched the skyline sparkle in front of him. It wasn't too late to stop by the Boys, but did he really want to get into it with Butcher when his blood lust was running this high?

He couldn't guarantee he'd be able to hold back. That would be unfortunate if he killed the man, since he was the only one who didn't piss themselves when they saw him. He'd miss their chess game of words, and chicken games, and their pissing contests.

He'd put it off, but he'd be back to see her, sooner rather than later.

Homelander pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled until he found Klara's name. He braced himself for the drama she was going to unleash in his ear. He dialed and waited for the phone to ring.

Chapter Text

Annie stood behind the bar, staring out past the customers she had taken care of. She mindlessly worked through her shifts, moving as if on autopilot. She had been going through the motions for the past few nights she worked. This was one of the busiest days, ushering in more new people than she had seen before.

These men were a different crop; 'no' didn't mean 'no'. She didn't know how many times she and Kimiko slapped some men or punched them or got MM to throw them out on their asses. For some reason, everyone was rowdy, and it made her uncomfortable.

Annie hadn't forgotten that she was watching the door for the past few weeks; she thought he'd appear, but he hadn't. She didn't realize it was affecting her as it was. She was restless and unsettled, as if she had missed him. Which was odd because she was supposed to be scared of him, right?

Homelander was a dangerous man. He wasn't a prince charming; he was bad news, a bad guy. Possibly a murderer. She wanted to ask about the man in the alley, but that would give her away, and she heard about loose ends.

Annie kept glancing at the door after every customer was served. Once they slowed down enough for a break, she stared blankly at the door, almost willing Homelander to walk through it. All she got was a smack on the ass that jolted her into the present.

She glanced over her shoulder at Kimiko and stuck her tongue out at the girl. "Ow!" She giggled as she turned away from the door.

As Annie watched for the door, she didn't realize some new customers had filtered into the club. It was something small, just some new faces. But when she glanced through the crowd, they didn't seem to be interested in the girls on stage.

The new faces merely watched.

Annie turned her back toward the door as she reached for a bottle. She held up the tequila and fluttered her eyelashes at Kimiko. "Wanna join me, babe?" She asked with a grin.

Kimiko nodded as she finished sliding a bottle toward her customer. She walked toward Annie and leaned against the bar. She grabbed the shot glasses for them. She signed out, 'You're looking for the guy Butcher hates?'

Annie poured their shots and left the tequila beside them. She handed Kimiko her shot while grabbing hers, "No… I just wonder how MM could stand there by himself all night." She lied with a shrug. She ignored the tingle she felt on her.

Kimiko's eyes were narrowed as she stared at the side of her friend's face. Annie didn't need Kimiko to sign for her to know what she was saying. But it wasn't like she could help it; her social life was gone. She was either at her apartment, in the hospital with her mother, or here.

Annie knew she could've talked to the other men who flirted with her, or maybe Alex from next door with his sweet voice, but Homelander was interesting. And that was her problem. Her mother used to say she was a fixer; she believed that she could be anyone's friend and help them do better. Perhaps she saw him as a challenge to make him softer or less evil.

Annie avoided answering Kimiko's questioning stare. She held her shot up and clinked it against hers before taking it back with a grimace. She coughed before giving her a smile, "Busy week, huh?"

Kimiko rolled her eyes and easily took her shot down without making a face. She shook her head as she moved to wipe down the bartop. She elbowed Annie and inclined her head toward the man coming through the crowd.

Annie glanced up at him. He didn't resemble the typical clientele. She knows who's who by now. He wasn't one of those usual overworked corporate types or one of the wannabe gangsters throwing cash. He looked like he was too calm and on a mission. It made her shift behind the bar.

Her mistake was glancing away from him.

He chose that moment to strike. He moved as he settled on the stool right in front of her, where Homelander usually chose to sit. He smiled, almost showing all his teeth, even a silver one. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating.

Annie braced herself as she gave him a polite grin and swallowed, "What can I get you?" She asked, trying to calm her nerves.

The man stared at her for a few seconds. He didn't speak right away. He only smiled wider like he knew something she didn't. Annie could deal with a lecherous or drunk smile or whatever Homelander does when he smiles, but this made a chill creep down her back.

"Whatever you recommend, I'll take it, sweetheart." He responded as he looked over her once more, almost like he was trying to remember everything about her.

Annie nodded as she pursed her lips, "Uh, that doesn't help much. Are you a light or dark drinker?" She asked while still trying to hide her nerves.

The man ran his tongue along his bottom lip; the grin he wore never reached his eyes as he stared at her. "Whatever you like… dealer's choice." He said with a slight purr to his voice. "Make me your favorite drink, I'm not picky."

Annie shrugged as she turned her back to him. She looked at all the bottles in front of her and glanced at Kimiko out of the side of her eye. Almost with a "watch this" look in them. She was going to make him a fruity drink, complete with an umbrella, something to fuck with him since he's fucking with her.

She grabbed a shaker, filled it with ice, and then looked for the vodka. While she did so, he started speaking again, "You've been working for Butcher a while, huh?" His voice startled her.

Annie tensed as she paused in her movements before answering shortly, "A few months." She kept her back to him as she snatched a bottle from the shelf.

He chuckled behind her. "Short. Sassy. I like that little attitude you have." He looked around the club and put both his forearms on the bar top and leaned in. "Are you always this busy? Here at the bar, I mean…"

Annie should've poured him some Whiskey and hoped he'd leave after that, but she wanted to be an asshole and make a fruity drink, hoping he would flip out and MM would toss him. She had forgotten how tedious mixing drinks was. "It's a bar in a strip club with women behind it. Men order drinks. I make them. If I'm not busy, I'm out of a job, so being busy is part of the whole employed thing."

He laughed again, like she said the funniest joke in the world. "Fair. It's getting expensive to live." He leaned in closer, and she caught the waft of his cologne, which made her nose scrunch. "But I think I can help with that… we can go somewhere private and have a little chat. Just the two of us."

Annie looked over her shoulder with a frown, "No. If you need a drink, I can make one for you. But anything else… something like the girls are offering up on stage—" She was cut off by him speaking over her. "Information. That's all… although you don't look too bad for anything else that could be arranged."

Annie angrily snatched the cap off the vodka bottle and poured its contents into the shaker. She replaced the lid as she added the premade mixture, then shook it violently. She watched him shift and produced a crisp hundred from his pocket. "All I need is a name, sweetheart." He said as he smoothed it out on the bartop.

Annie said nothing as she placed a martini glass in front of him. She poured the mixture through the strainer before plopping an umbrella into the drink and shoving it over to him; some of the liquor sloshed over the rim as she glared at him. "We don't do that here, sir."

He looked down at the drink and raised both his eyebrows before meeting her eyes, "Don't be prude, sweetheart. You'll get wrinkles quicker. I'm just asking for something about the man who runs this city… You don't have to give me the state's secrets." He said with a cool sneer.

Annie stiffened as her lips twitched, her mask of anger almost slipped as she realized who he was talking about. If it's not one thing, it's another. She fought to keep her expression the same, "I don't know what you're even talking about. No one can run the city other than the mayor." She said, feigning confusion.

The man chuckled again, in that cold, calculating way. "You're funny. Just as funny as this fucking drink." He said, slapping it to the side. The liquor spilled across the bartop and dripped onto both floors on her side and his.

"You should leave." Annie did her best to look fearless. She jutted her jaw as she waited for him to respond. She hadn't expected to see him so fast and get so close.

His nose almost pressed against hers as he leaned in, "Or what?" His voice dropped to a menacing growl.

Annie wasn't going to let him rattle her. She straightened her shoulders and stared into his eyes unblinking, her defiance palpable. "Or you keep asking questions and they'll be answered," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to consume her.

The man only held eye contact for a few moments before he smirked. Almost as if he thought she had told a joke, that she was amusing and adorable. He plucked the hundred from the bar and tucked it into her shirt, inside her bra, and patted her breast, "Good. Tell him I was here, sweetheart."

He stepped away and disappeared into the crowd, moving through bodies as he walked out the door. MM was on a fast track toward her, his eyes narrowed and jaw set as he stalked toward the bar.

MM reached her and gripped her bicep, none too gently. He leaned down and whispered harshly in her ear, "Who the fuck was that? You good?" He asked curtly. His hand was squeezing a bit too tightly.

Annie swallowed and shook her head. "I don't—" She was cut off from finishing her lie.

MM only leaned closer to her ear, "You can't fuckin' lie to me, Annie. I saw that muthafucka touch you. Are you good? Don't try and fuckin' lie again." He said with finality.

Annie couldn't look at MM at the moment. She knew it was because he was concerned. He was a sweetheart, a girldad at heart. He looked after her and Kimiko as if they were his extra daughters. She forced a tiny smile onto her face, "I-I'm fine… he wanted info on one of our customers. No big deal."

MM eyed her to determine whether she was being truthful. He let go of her and nodded, "If he's gonna be a problem, I'll tell Butcher that son of a bitch can't come in here. He'll have to talk to me and not sendin' Reggie ass, I mean, face to face. Man to man. I'm not gonna let you get hurt because of the enemies his ass got."

Annie swallowed as she nodded. She rubbed the arm he grabbed, "I know… I—thank you, Marv. But I don't think it's because of him… he's just been seen around here too many times and looks… regular, now."

MM sighed and shook his head. "Ight. Ight. But that muthafucka, Homelander. John. Whatever he wanna be called. I owe him an ass whoopin'. Let him know on the account of his business partners tryna play tough with you, I'm finna play tough with his ass. Ight?" He muttered with a slight scowl.

Annie sighed and nodded at him, trying to placate him with another smile. "When I see him, I promise I will tell him what you said. I'm fine, Marv. I promise."

MM nudged her shoulder with his fist, "Ight. Lemme know if somethin' goes down. That's why I'm here. You two, Kimiko, sign a fuckin' SOS or somethin'." He said jokingly, watching her flip him off and sign something at him that would've made a nun blush.

Annie watched MM stalk back to his post by the front door, and she picked up her towel to wipe down the counter. She thought back to the man with the silver tooth and trimmed beard. She tried to remember every little thing about him, so when she talked to Homelander, at least she had a description.

She could imagine the storm in his icy blue eyes already. He was not going to like any of this.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Annie woke up early and had to drag herself from bed. She rolled her shoulders and sighed as every part of her back ached. She definitely needed to invest in a new bed soon. She sat up, and the shirt she wore slipped down her shoulder, revealing her collarbones.

She shifted and winced as she glanced down at her bicep; she had a purplish bruise there in the shape of large fingers. MM was really angry last night; she understood, but he didn't need to grab her that hard.

When she woke up, so did the city. She could hear the honking of cars, the chatter of people, and the trains running; everything drew her back to reality. Annie glanced over at her phone. She tapped on the screen to see the time.

6:45 am.

If she got ready now, she could be at the hospital for her mother by 8.

Annie quickly climbed from her bed and went to her clean pile of laundry on the floor. She decided to use this shirt and whatever pants she found, luckily, some leggings that she could slip into.

She jerked back as she realized it was her necklace on the ground —the cross her mother had gifted her. She hadn't been wearing it because her mother hadn't been getting better, so she felt like there was no point, but the silver scared her. It reminded her of last night.

The silver-toothed man who came into the club. She replayed it over and over. How he roughly shoved that hundred into her shirt and bra. She could still feel his gross hand down in her cleavage, all because he wanted information on Homelander.

"I don't know anything about the guy," Annie muttered to herself as she walked into the private ensuite. She quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face. She stared at her face in the mirror for several minutes; she looked as exhausted as she felt.

She barely slept.

Annie worked all night at the club from 10 pm to 3 am, then she'd wake up like clockwork at 6:45 to visit her mother at the hospital. Sometimes she'd stay until 8 and only get an hour of sleep, give or take.

But she couldn't imagine skipping one day without seeing her mother.

Annie watched as her brown eyes filled with tears; her bottom lip quivered as she realized how much she looked like her mother. But she had her father's eyes. The tears slid down her cheeks, and she wiped her face.

She pushed herself up and took a deep breath as she fixed a smile on her face. She remembered her mother before her plays, pageants, and photoshoots. Pain is weakness leaving the body.

Annie's hands tightened into fists until she felt her nails biting into her skin, almost breaking them. She exhaled before pushing her shoulders back and stretching a smile across her face, "You're fine, Annie. You've always been fine." She blinked and just like that, her moment of weakness was gone. She brushed her hair and applied just enough makeup to achieve a natural look, concealing some of her exhaustion.

Annie left the bathroom and looked around her room, then smiled. She walked over to the pile of clean clothes and grabbed the blanket. After some searching and a thorough washing, the blanket was finally found. It was one of the things her parents used to set up for movie nights back in Iowa. She felt like her mother would feel better by having something of home in the hospital with her.

Annie folded and tucked the blanket away in her bookbag. She grabbed her phone, put on her socks and shoes, and then left. As she was walking down the seven flights of stairs, she noticed her walking partner, Alex, her next-door neighbor.

"Hey, Annie… It's like you barely live next to me, you know? I barely see you." Alex said with a grin. His eyes crinkled as his smile widened.

Annie glanced at him, noticing how his soft brown hair was matted to his head; he probably had just showered. She should feel a flutter or even a crush on him, maybe, but he just seemed sweet.

She no longer wanted anyone sweet, unfortunately.

"Yeah, you know I work at the club. Late nights, early mornings. I gotta pay for the apartment somehow." Annie responded with a small smile.

"Sheesh. Don't you get tired?" Alex frowned as he checked his watch for the time. "You're never home."

Annie raised her eyebrows as they continued walking down the steps. She laughed, "What? You keeping tabs on me or something?"

"I-I no… I mean… look, being in the city, I know it's huge, but that's if you get out. I'm just saying if you aren't busy, we could get some coffee or lunch or something… sometime, maybe?" Alex asked with a shrug.

Annie knew she'd usually agree; she'd be excited and couldn't wait to get to know him, but she couldn't. If everyone at the club looked at her like she was sweet, Alex was the sweetest. She was sure he'd be hurt more than she ever would be.

"I'll think about it," Annie said with a smile as she reached the landing. She looked over her shoulder to wave at him.

Alex's face split into a wide grin, "Y-yeah! I'll see you around, definitely, Annie!" He called back to her.

Annie relaxed her face with a sigh. It was easier to lie and fake a smile than it was earlier. She adjusted the backpack on her shoulders before glancing down the sidewalk, mentally preparing herself for her walk to the hospital.

She dug in her pockets for her earbuds, leaving one out to hear her surroundings, but otherwise, she was ready for her 40-minute walk. She enjoyed the weather; it wasn't often she could go out without something covering her arms.

When Annie arrived at Bellevue Hospital, she immediately headed toward the reception desk, where the woman nodded toward her, allowing her to proceed without checking in. The lights flickered above her as she waited for the elevator. The fluorescent lights were harsh to her eyes, and she frowned at how bright they were.

As soon as the elevator door opened, she walked in and jabbed the button for the 9th floor. She walked out once it reached her stop, and her nose crinkled at the smell of bleach and disinfectant. It was starting to give her a headache.

She wondered if she could sneak into the nurse's station and steal a cup of coffee. But something felt odd; she heard laughter as she turned the corner to pass the nurse's station. Standing beside the counter was a familiar figure, looking as though he did not belong in the hospital unless he was there to put people in it.

Homelander had one hand in his left pocket while he talked with the other; a flash of silver caught her eye. She knew that watch had to be at least five times more valuable than she had ever touched in her lifetime. He wore a tailored black suit, complemented by matching pants and jacket. The white shirt clung to his torso, which was adorned with a missing tie.

His posture was as relaxed as his outfit.

Annie realized he was standing in front of other people dressed business-like as well; they were probably the hospital administrators. She wondered why he was here, then she remembered everything she had been told about him.

Philanthropy.

New York's Elite.

An untouchable.

Annie wondered how the charities and hospitals would feel if they knew that behind the charming smile was a man with blood-stained hands. The thought made her sick to her stomach, and she wanted to avoid him, but her mother's room was located around the corner, diagonally opposite him.

She was stuck.

She glared at the ground, unable to help but listen in to the conversation or the sales pitch the administration was providing him. She knew the hospital was in dire need of funding; she had listened to every doctor's pitch about her mother's cancer and how she was only paying to delay it because she couldn't afford to do better treatments.

Annie rolled her eyes, glanced up, and felt her heart flutter in her chest. His icy, glacier-blue eyes found hers over someone's shoulder. Shit, she hadn't wanted to be seen. At least not here, everywhere but where her heart lived.

Homelander's perfect smile only widened as he nodded along to the group speaking. He shook all of their hands and patted the men on the shoulders as he stepped away. Annie turned on her heel and rushed in the opposite direction from her mother's room.

He stalked down the hall behind her. It only took him a few seconds before he closed the distance between them. His large hand wrapped around her wrist as his cologne surrounded her. His breath was warm against the back of her neck as he leaned down to whisper, "You running away from me, Annie? That's rude, don't you think?"

Annie felt color rising to her cheeks; she could feel his chest rising and falling against her shoulder. It was almost as if every sound in the hospital had fallen by the wayside; there was no clicking of pens, typing of keyboards, squeaks from wheels, or heavy footfalls from rushing nurses and doctors—it was just him.

Homelander's hand holding her wrist opened, and he slid his fingers down her arm, brushing over her hand. He wondered what she would've done had he laced their fingers together. Instead, he stepped back and buried both hands in his pants pockets. "So? I expect an answer." He said, tilting his head.

Annie wondered if he could hear the way her heart was beating. She slowly turned to face him and adjusted her hold on her bookbag straps, "I-I-I… I wasn't aware we had plans. I wasn't running, I was rushing to get to where I needed to go." She said with a swallow.

Homelander stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes tracing over her face, and glanced at her lips, remembering how soft her bottom lip felt under his thumb. "Oh, we didn't have plans, but I guess that's God for you. What's that saying? Tell God what you're doing tomorrow, and he pisses on that or something?" He said with a slight smirk.

Annie couldn't stop herself from matching his smile. "Make plans and God laughs is the proper saying. I didn't think you were religious or that I'd run into you here." She said honestly.

"Oh, of course. I do charity work." Homelander said as he looked around, noticing some whispered stares, he spoke up, "I love helping the sick. Giving back, supporting our vulnerable. I mean, what would our city do without me?" He finished his speech and, watching the crowd disperse, he leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Now, what about you, Annie? Didn't think you were charitable, you would've taken me up on a few offers by now."

Annie rolled her eyes at the way his eyes were shining at her. She couldn't help but give him a genuine smile now. "I'm not that charitable. I'm here to visit my mom." She shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Which I'm late for because you ran after me like I owed you money."

Homelander's head was thrown back as he chuckled. Annie watched his face as if it were the first time she had seen him. She didn't know if this was really him or if he was in public with his John Homelander face rather than his Boss Homelander one. He wiped an imaginary tear before he pointed at her, "Funny. You and I both know I don't have to chase if I want my money… after all, you've seen it, right?" He winked at her.

Annie's eyes widened as she met his eyes. He knew. Homelander knew that she had seen him in the alley. He knew she was there and had witnessed what he had done. She couldn't speak; she only stared at him, her face filled with shock.

Homelander cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb following the line of her cheekbone, "You know, I was going to put one right…" He raised his hand to poke between her eyebrows, "here." He swore he heard her heart speed up; it was beating as fast as a rabbit's. "But that would've been a terrible first impression, hm?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't answer him, not after the bombshell he had dropped on her.

"So, doesn't that make me a good guy?" Homelander teased as his hand returned to cupping her cheek. He felt her move her face further into his grasp. "You know how kids act on the playground, tattletells the whole I'm gonna tell on you thing. You know, that's not good for either of us?"

Annie still couldn't speak; she only shook her head. She held eye contact, and it felt like a terrible mistake. His eyes were hypnotic, and it seemed like everything he said to her was making her agree with him wholeheartedly.

Homelander's thumb played with her bottom lip once more. He pressed against it, "You don't tell anyone what I've done, and it'll be easy between us. How about it?" He asked softly.

Annie cleared her throat and finally nodded. She knew she couldn't talk. Her voice would come out meek and quiet.

Homelander brought his other hand to her cheek, both of his hands held her face, "Good girl. That's great." He purred with a wide smile. His hands slowly slipped from her, and then his entire expression changed.

Annie didn't have time to process what happened before she was pinned against the wall, and he held her forearm up to her face. But he wasn't looking there. It was her bicep where the faint smudges and bruises were from when MM grabbed her last night.

"Who the fuck touched you?" Homelander growled as he pressed his nose to her temple, his voice lost its playful tone as he continued whispering in her ear. "A nod or a head shake won't work this time. Speak."

Oddly enough, Annie wasn't frightened. She knew he wasn't mad at her, but the look in his eyes was what she imagined he looked like that night in the alley. She swallowed and stuttered, "N-no one… I-I mean h-he didn't mean it…" She tried to pull her arm away as she looked away from his eyes.

"He didn't mean it? I don't give a fuck if he meant it or not. Do you think I was going to take that bullshit as an answer?" Homelander's breath came out hard against her cheek, "Tell me who." He dropped her forearm as he stepped back briefly.

Annie rubbed her bicep briefly and glanced up into his eyes. She expected to see the anger still swirling, but instead, they looked like an ice storm. "MM… Marvin, he… he grabbed me at the club…" She whispered and looked away from him. "It's not serious… bruises fade…"

Homelander looked at her and laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Marvin Milk? William's guy… big, bad bodyguard… and it's no big deal. Right." He was about to walk away, and Annie grabbed him.

"J-John… wait!" Annie called out as her hands curled around his. She prayed he'd look at her, that he'd listen. "Look, he saw something, but I handled myself… a guy… a guy came in and he offered me a hundred for information on you. He um… he shoved it in my bra and MM was concerned." She offered, hoping it would quell him.

It did the exact opposite.

Homelander raised his eyebrows before his face darkened even more. He moved his hand from her grasp to grab her shoulders with both. Her bookbag slipped off her shoulders and fell behind her as he pinned her against the wall. "Who? What did he look like?"

Annie watched as his entire posture changed; his muscles coiled beneath his jacket, and his face looked murderous as he leaned in closer. She breathed uneasily as she tried to recall last night, "Uh… um, a sliver tooth… beard, trimmed, kinda like MM's…" She nervously swallowed, "He had dark hair… he wasn't a regular… he came for me, but for you."

Annie swore if he could, he'd have lasers shooting out of his eyes right about now. Homelander glared for several more seconds as he tried to think about the description she gave him. He exhaled as he moved his hands up to cup her face. He pressed his forehead to hers. "That's it?" He muttered.

Annie stared into his eyes; they were almost white with rage. She nodded and shut her eyes to avoid looking at him. “That’s… all…”

Homelander leaned back and sighed. He brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled. It was one of the crooked ones he gave her back at the club. "I'll take care of that… don't you worry your little head, alright?" He pulled away thoroughly to pick up her bookbag. "So, where were you going? Your mother, that's right. Come on."

Annie's initial meekness switched to outright confusion as she blinked at him. "Huh, what?" She said as she looked at him.

Homelander nodded at her as he flipped the bookbag over his back. He held it on one shoulder as he stared at her, "Your mother, Annie. You came to see her, didn't you? I'm going with you." He said like he'd done it before. He held his hand out to her.

Annie stared at it and couldn't help but feel like this wasn't just him offering his hand. It felt like he was offering her more. More than she could imagine. Maybe even everything. She felt as if she had taken his hand; it was like walking with the Devil. She knew her mother would have her in a confessional if she could.

She couldn't stop the flutter in her heart.

Annie wanted to cry because of her mother. She was sick and dying, and it made her want to be loved. She wanted someone to take care of her now. She stared at his outstretched hand and felt all these feelings swirl in her mind, all because she wanted to be wanted by this terrible man.

But none of her thoughts stopped her from reaching out.

Annie covered his hand with hers and felt his fingers close over her hand. His grip felt sure, warm, dangerous, but overall safe. It was true, she felt safe with his hand gripping hers. She looked down at their hands before she flickered her eyes up to meet his.

Homelander's crooked, fangy smile stretched across his face again. He stopped walking just to turn and face her. She ran into his chest with an audible gasp. He chuckled as he reached up for her face again, grabbing her chin and lifting her head, "That's the first time I heard you acknowledge me… the first time in a long time I didn't hate my first name. You're the only one I want to say it to." He muttered lowly.

Annie felt her heart flutter again. She didn't say anything; she playfully pulled him along. He followed her down the hall and couldn't help the slight grin on his face. Whether he knew it or not in this moment, Homelander knew he wanted to see someone else smile other than himself.

He felt fucked and not the good kind.

Chapter Text

Donna January sat in bed, propped up against the pillows. Her curtains were still drawn, but she could hear the traffic driving down below her. She wanted to see something, but she supposed either the Nurse or Annie would do it for her.

She has been confined to the room more often and hasn't been able to move around as freely as she used to. So, she couldn't even talk to the other patients she had grown to enjoy being around.

Donna sighed as she flipped through the magazine. It was the John Homelander edition of Forbes, part of their "Successes Under 40" series. It told the story of how he came to be a billionaire and how he was determined to succeed in New York, his hometown, following in his father's footsteps. She hummed as she read the magazine; her eyesight had grown worse, so she held the magazine closer to her face.

Donna has devoured this magazine multiple times since she showed it to Annie. She knows it cover to cover, start to finish. She's not shy about her feelings for him; she's told Annie countless times how attractive he looks and how she wishes her to find a man like him. Her admiration for Homelander is palpable in every word she speaks.

The door opened while her head stayed buried between the pages, "Nurse, I know, I know… exercise is as soon as Annie leaves. Can you open the window curtains for me? I feel like I'm suffocating over here. I need to see the sunlight sometime today." Donna mumbled without looking up. "And where's my daughter? She's usually here by now." She turned a page as she continued complaining.

Annie cleared her throat; she had long dropped Homelander's hand. "Hey, Mom. Good morning, how are you feeling?" She asked as she inched further into the room.

At the sound of her daughter's voice, Donna dropped the magazine and squinted in the harsh fluorescent lights. She narrowed her eyes more as she glanced past Annie to the man-like blob. "Is that you with the doctor, Sweetheart? Tell him I don't want to read his clipboard of bad news or listen to his medical mumbo jumbo right now." She complained.

"Can you tell them to dim the lights, too? I want to go to heaven like the next person, but I don't want to be reminded every day. I think they're trying to blind me." Donna added another complaint to her growing list.

Annie glanced over her shoulder at Homelander, who still held her bookbag off of one arm. She shook her head before she walked toward her mother's bedside. She grabbed the covers her mother had kicked down toward the end of the bed, pulled them up, and tucked them around her waist. "Mom, it gets cold in here. Try to keep your covers up." She leaned down to kiss her forehead, "How have you been, Mom?"

Homelander watched them with the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Something about watching Annie like this made him content, not happy, just there. It felt normal. More normal than what made him smile, usually it would be liquor, women moaning his name, or men crying his name.

That made him happy.

Annie had reached for her mother's glasses from the bedside table and carefully slid them onto her face. "All better, Mom? You can see me now?" She questioned as she cupped her face in her hands.

"Are you reading that magazine again?" Annie asked while she glanced over her shoulder at him. She couldn't stop her face from warming when he fixed her with his signature crooked grin. Her mother was reading his magazine, and it looked well-read too.

Donna waved her hand at Annie with a roll of her eyes, "Just because you don't like him, doesn't mean I don't. He's so passionate about his work. Taking it up for his father. He wants to make New York a better place than it was when he grew up here. Isn't that admirable?" She said before reaching for her hand, "He's handsome. I've told you, he gets one look at you and he'll be obsessed. I know my daughter is beautiful."

Annie was still mostly blocking Homelander's form from her mother's eyesight, but now she didn't even want to acknowledge it at all. She was sure that crooked grin turned into something cockier now. She tried to hide her flushed cheeks.

Donna's breath suddenly hitched, and she gripped Annie's hand hard. "Oh my…"

Annie turned to see Homelander standing behind her. She stiffened when she felt his hand brush the small of her back. She hated how easily unbothered he was, as if he could slip into a public persona with ease.

"Mrs. January, how are you? Your daughter tells me that you're my number one fan." Homelander said with an easy smile.

Donna's eyes flicker from the magazine to the man standing beside her daughter. "You're… you're the John Homelander?" she stammers, her surprise evident in her voice.

Annie had never been more embarrassed than she was right now. Her mother was about to sound like a schoolgirl getting asked to prom by the most popular guy in school. She winced as she heard the excitement in her voice.

"Annie… he's here. Not in the magazine. But standing here. John Homelander is standing in my hospital room…" Donna's eyes were welling up with tears, "I-I just wanted to say… V-Vought does so much for the city… for people like me… and…" Her voice started to quiver.

Annie's gaze flickered to him, and she saw the amusement in his icy eyes. She wanted to punch him. The thought surprised her. She's not just attracted to him, she's also conflicted. She wants to be playful with him, to tease him. Her feelings are a tangled web of attraction and frustration.

Homelander reached for her other hand. He held it as he spoke smoothly and effortlessly, as if he could take all her worries away. "We try our best. I believe everyone in the city should have a good quality of life. Not just the few who can afford it. I'm glad you agree with me, Mrs. January. I can see where your daughter should get it from."

Donna chukled as she wiped her eye. She moved her hand back down to Annie's to hold. "That's my little Starlight. She's always been my stubborn princess. As a matter of fact, Annie, Sweetheart, how do you know Mr. Homelander? I thought you didn't care for him very much." She asked with her eyes still shining.

Annie had two sets of eyes on her. Homelander was more dangerous than her mother; she knew he was enjoying the chaos and that he wanted to see if she could get out of this conversation unscathed. “Um… well… funny story actually…” She began, trying to come up with a convincing lie. She still hadn't told her highly religious mother that she works at a strip club.

Annie was sure that if she uttered the words strip club, her mother would die on the spot right now. She cleared her throat, "You know, I'm a waitress and—"

Homelander cut her off with a menacing look in his eyes, "And your daughter was serving my food. Unfortunately, she spilled most of it on me. The meeting with the board was odd for the rest of the night. Her boss wanted her gone and fired her on the spot, but I convinced him to give her a second chance, and she wanted to repay me… I asked if she'd like to accompany me here, and small world that I'd meet the beautiful Mrs. Donna January here." He said with his charming persona in place.

Annie hated that he was a great liar and that he'd probably thought of all that at the top of his head. She hated knowing her mother would devour it and talk about it for days afterward.

Donna gasped, "Annie… you spilled his food on him?" She looked at her in disbelief before turning toward Homelander. "I'm sorry for that. She's been clumsy all her life; she could fall standing still. This one time when she was little—"

"MOM! NO STORIES ABOUT ME AS A CHILD!" Annie cut her off with a frown. She glared at Homelander and unzipped her bookbag. She pulled the blanket out and unfolded it. "Here, Mom. I found this just for you… so it felt a little more like home… like me and… dad." She could barely mention him without feeling like crying; it was worse since her mother was away in the hospital.

Homelander raised his eyebrow as he picked up his magazine and set it back on Donna's lap. He watched the mother and daughter hug briefly before Annie spoke up, "I'll be back tomorrow… I think I'll sneak in some snacks for us. I can wheel you out of here so we can see the garden out back. Wouldn't that be nice, Mom?"

Donna smiled at her, "Of course, dear. Anything to get me out of this stuffy room."

Homelander took in the room and frowned to himself as he left the women to chat. He walked toward the window and pulled the curtains back; all she could see was another building. It was shorter than the hospital but covered up mostly everything.

She could barely see the sun.

He noted the bed and how she was propped up with pillows, and not the buttons that could adjust the bed itself. There was no TV, not even a couch or chair. It was empty aside from the bed, the medical equipment, and the woman lying there.

Homelander watched as Annie kissed her mother's cheek and said her goodbyes. He raised his hand in leaving as well. He followed her from her mother's room, feeling irritated by the space she was in. That was no way to live or try to fight sickness; being in there made it feel like he wanted to die.

Annie walked beside him and glanced down at his swinging hand. She sighed to herself as she reached out, her right hand grasping his left as she laced their fingers together. "T-thank you for making her day. Probably her whole year, regretfully." She said with a slight laugh. "Just know you gave her a big head and she's going to be a nightmare to put up with."

Homelander arched his eyebrow, "Oh, really? Well, it's nice to have someone appreciate me and think I'm attractive and will talk to me if I show up to their place of work." He said, his tone returning to playful. He led her to the elevator.

"Are you teasing me over my rules? Oh my gosh. I'm not supposed to fraternize with customers, duh. And I never said you weren't attractive. I was…" Annie whispered lowly, "scared of you… I mean, why does this mysterious mob guy suddenly get interested in me after I see something I shouldn't? Wouldn't you be scared?" She asked.

Homelander ignored those questions as he tugged her into the elevator as soon as it arrived. He pushed the button for the lobby and watched the elevator doors slide closed in front of them. He finally spoke low, "Do you remember that night I touched you for the first time? I said something to the effect that you're afraid. Are you? Are you afraid of me?"

Annie slowly looked up to meet his eyes. She didn't know what she felt about him. She wasn't afraid of him; it was that she knew he was capable of hurting her. But not the way he hurt everyone else. She could feel her heart breaking at the thought of her falling for him, and the game he's played well for all these years ends.

"No…" Annie said in a whisper.

Homelander's lips twitched at her response. He dropped his hand from holding her bookbag strap to cup her face, "A pretty face like yours would have men starting wars, making promises that they can't keep, trying to be better men they won't be… you're too good for a man like me." He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, wanting nothing but to feel it against his own. "And I'm all bad for a woman like you…"

Annie's tongue darted out to lick her lips, catching his thumb briefly in a fleeting moment. "So, you're saying I won't get you to change?" She teased.

Homelander smirked as he moved his hand to cup the back of her neck. He pulled her closer with his hold on her. "Oh, you won't get me to change. But I know looking in your eyes will make me regret not being able to try." He said, leaning down, that he brushed his nose alongside hers, wanting nothing more than to kiss her, but he couldn't.

"At least you're honest," Annie whispered, and her breath fanned over his lips. She wanted him to kiss her, too. God, this day went from the dangerous individual last night to an even more dangerous one wrapped around her finger. She was sure her leashed pitbull was scarier than the ones they had.

Annie pulled away and put some distance between them, "I have to get home so I can nap before my shift… thanks for carrying my bookbag and um, talking with my mom." She said, trying to ignore how flustered she was. She couldn't let this get carried away.

Being alone with him like this was dangerous.

She wasn't beneath the watchful glares of Butcher and MM; she was swimming without a lifejacket by herself. She knew that anything could happen, at least now, since she's used to his touch.

The elevator stopped at the lobby, and Homelander reached out to pin one of the doors as he waited for her to walk in front of him. They walked together past patients waiting to be admitted or some leaving alongside them before stopping outside the automatic doors.

Annie looked at her bookbag still on his shoulder and wondered what the best way was to take it back. "Well, ummm, I suppose I'll see you then…" She said awkwardly as they faced each other. She pointed to his shoulder, silently gesturing to her bookbag.

Homelander smirked down at her, "Let me drop you off before I get back to work." He said as he waited for her to turn him down. He could see it in her eyes; she was not going to go with him willingly. He tightened his hold on the bookbag strap.

Annie shook her head before crossing her arms, "You should know, I walk to and from here every day. It's not far, just a couple of blocks away." She said with a shrug.

Homelander tilted his head, "How far is a couple of blocks? Because I think you're lying." He leaned down and chuckled, "Is it two? Five? Seven blocks? How far do you walk?"

Annie sighed as she scratched the back of her head, "Look… if I let you take me home, will you promise to leave? You'll drop me off and go?" She asked, her eyes widening as she didn't need him to see the mattress and clothes she had in the apartment. Her lack of furniture was already upsetting for her; she didn't need the blood money millionaire to pity her.

Homelander held his hand out to her, "I give you my word." He said with a slight smirk.

Annie glared at his outstretched hand. She was shaking and taking his hand far too many times. She didn't know how many times she's sold her soul to him by now. She wrapped her smaller hand around his, "I hope I can trust your word." She shook his hand while muttering.

"You can trust me if you get pass your stubborn attitude." Homelander said, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, "Come on. Let's see how far you live from here." He said before pulling her around the corner, where his car was parked on the sidewalk.

Chapter Text

Annie didn't want to gawk too much as Homelander led her to his car. It made sense he'd drive something like it. It was a large, Black Cadillac SUV and built like a tank. She was sure, knowing him, it was reinforced like one too. He came around to the passenger side and held the door open for her.

Annie moved toward it and tried to hop in. She jumped when she felt his hand on her ass as he shoved her up and into his car. The interior was beautiful and looked brand new. The leather seats were dark and spotless. His car reeked of him; his cologne wafted through it, and it felt like it was going straight to her head.

She buckled herself in and shifted, kicking her shoes off to curl beneath herself as she leaned against his window, her hand pillowing her head against the tinted glass.

Homelander finally climbed into the driver's seat and started his engine. He went through the motions of adjusting his mirrors and pulling out into the flow of traffic. He sat comfortably with his left hand resting on the wheel while his right held onto the gear shift between them.

Annie's eyes fluttered, but she kept one eye open as she stared at his hand holding the shift. She wondered if that was how he usually drove or whether he was one of the men who held onto their partners' legs.

She warily glanced at his hand, but ultimately yawned and turned her attention lazily to the road ahead. Traffic was picking up, and she felt like she could've gotten home faster if she had walked.

Homelander glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was snuggled in his front seat. She looked exhausted and small. He finally broke the comfortable silence they had fallen into with a chuckle. "I can't drop you off without knowing where you live, you know?" He teased as his hand left his gear shift to adjust the AC.

Annie had to admit, she was used to walking, but getting a ride and resting her feet was like heaven. Especially after he fiddled with the AC, it was cold enough to be comfortable. If he wasn't careful, she'd fall asleep and he'd have to carry her up to her barren apartment. "You're telling me… You don't know where I live?" She said with a yawn as she curled further into herself.

"Do you think I keep tabs on you? Or that I have men posted outside your home?" Homelander teased with a raised eyebrow, "Do you think I'm a stalker? I said I am a bad man, not a creep. Those are two different things."

Annie looked at him with heavily lidded eyes as she curled further into the warmth of the sun coming from the window. She felt like a cat sunbathing right now, "You're not a creep... yet. And I live in Jackson Heights… so, we have a while…"

She fully expected him to turn his nose up at where she lived. She got the exact opposite.

Homelander had stopped behind a standstill line of traffic and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her. "You walk here every day?" He asked as his eyes narrowed at her. He turned his head to wait for her answer.

Annie covered her face with her hands. "Yes… I walk every day." She said tiredly as another yawn slipped out. "It's no big deal…"

Homelander's hand tightened on his steering wheel. He sighed, "Every day? Back and forth? Sun up to sun down?" He questioned.

Annie glanced over at the traffic, willing it to clear up so they could start moving again. She sighed, "Yes, John… I do it all the time. I'm saying it's not a big deal." She said, hoping this wouldn't become an argument. Why would she even be arguing with a man she's not involved with?

Because she knew whether she wanted it or not, she would be involved with him. At least she could get the minor arguments out of the way now.

"I didn't ask if it was a big deal or not…" Homelander scowled as he glanced at the backed-up traffic. He glanced at her, "Why don't you take a cab or a subway or something?" He muttered before sliding his eyes back to the standstill traffic.

"Oh, I didn't know I needed your permission," Annie responded sassily before laughing at his question. "Cab? Subway? With what money? Everything I get, including tips, goes to rent and my mom's medical bills." She said with a snort.

Homelander reached up to rub the bridge of his nose as he was able to inch forward in traffic. "I didn't hear you mention food or whatever else women need." He said smartly as he looked over at her, "Don't tell me you're fucking starving yourself too?"

"I'm used to it," Annie mumbled under her breath. She turned away from him to glare out the window. She saw people walking and knew she would've been at least halfway home by now, but she accepted a ride.

"What did you say?" Homelander questioned sharply. He knew he didn't hear her right. His eyes scanned over her body almost robotically as he tried to see any evidence of her lack of eating. "You said you were used to it? To what, starving? How do you fucking sound right now?"

Annie scoffed and tilted her head back against the headrest, "No. I didn't say that. My gosh… I said I could get used to it." She muttered out her lie. She didn't want to appease him; she just wanted him to stop complaining about things he couldn't control.

All she needed to do was take care of her mother; she could come last. Her mother was her priority.

Homelander rested his hand on the console between them. He turned his wheel following traffic, "You know… I only knew you for a few months or so… but that sounds like a flat-out lie. You can't do it. Don't try. I don't like liars, Annie." He mumbled.

"Oh, now we've moved on to threatening me? Do you hear yourself? You sound like a freaking psychopath!" Annie raised her voice before she crossed her arms across her chest. She shot him a dirty look as she mumbled under her breath, "You're ridiculous. Why do you even care?"

Homelander was grateful as traffic started to move a bit faster. He glanced over at her, "Why do I care? Because you're acting stupid. You know what you're doing is bullshit." He raised his voice as well. He took a deep breath before sighing, "Let's start over. I'll ask you a genuine question and you answer it just as genuinely, okay?"

Annie turned to look at him. He sounded like he was trying to calm down. She huffed, "Fine… alright…"

"Is your idiot brain being fucked by stupid?" Homelander asked without looking at her. All Annie could do was stare at him in disbelief; she couldn't even attempt to process, let alone answer, his question. He took her silence as a sign to continue, "The fucking point is that you know it's dangerous to be out alone. You know New York isn't safe. You should know better than any-fucking-one. You've seen a glimpse of what people like me could do, so why are you putting yourself in stupid fucking situations?"

Annie met his eyes defiantly and couldn't help but feel like he was attacking her, like he was bullying her on purpose. She felt an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. God, she couldn't believe women like her mother got starry-eyed over men like him.

"You don't know me! You don't know anything about me other than I work as a bartender in a strip club. My mother is sick and I am scraping by to make sure she's able to freaking live. I guess you wouldn't understand because you have all the money in the world, freaking world. Well, not me. Every day, I give something up so I can get something else, and it is normal. I'm sorry you'd never understand about making sacrifices, John!" Annie said, her chest heaving, that her tirade probably made no sense to anyone but her, but she felt like she had gotten enough off her chest.

Now, she was ready to curl up in bed and cry because everything he said was true. She'd never tell him he wasn't wrong; he looked like he gloated about being right. But it's not like she can do much; she was too busy worrying about her mother to take care of herself.

Homelander let her vent. He had to dampen the twitch to his lips; she's spoken more than she has when he saw her in the club. He liked that. She was stubborn and argumentative and didn't just go along with him, even if she should have, even if he would've killed others for a slip of their tongue like this.

With her, it was attractive. He liked knowing she wasn't going to bend over backwards for him.

Homelander pulled off the highway and was nearing Jackson Heights; the neighborhood looked different compared to the wealthier parts of New York, especially where the hospital was. He was able to speed up a bit faster now that the clogged traffic was left behind. "Are you done? Will you listen to me now?" He asked, noticing how cute she looked pouting, right now.

Annie's bottom lip was still stuck out in a pout as she crossed her arms, "Oh, I guess I wasted my breath. Sure, I'll shut up and listen to the King of New York." She sneered at him.

"I'm not the King. I'm only acting King if we're being honest, my father is coming home soon, and I might hand over the reins, but that's besides the point." Homelander started, and he slowed down at the red light. "My point is that a man came up to you in the club and offered you money for information about me. Nine out of ten times, multiple other men have been there just watching; they know your schedule probably like I do." He spoke gently.

When Annie didn't look at him, his hand moved from the console to her face. He tugged her head until she looked in his eyes, "You and I both know my interest in you makes others interested in the same. It's dangerous. I don't care if it's your pride, ride home with one of your coworkers, Annie." Homelander said, almost like he was pleading with her.

Annie raised her eyebrow at his tone. John Homelander begging her? It sounded way too good to be true. She appreciated that he didn't want her to feel sad or angry with him. Did she have a semblance of power over this man? "And let my coworkers have access to my home? I'd rather walk."

The SUV slowed down in front of her apartment building. She could see Homelander peering out the window on her side as he looked at the worn-down brick exterior. She thought she wouldn't see him look down on her place of living, but she was wrong; his whole face changed.

His scowl looked like his eyes could melt the glass he was glaring through.

"Which one is yours?" Homelander growled out. He raised his eyebrow at the passing people who looked at his car up and down. It was a drastic difference from the apartments parallel to them.

Annie pointed out the window up the length of the apartment, "7th floor. Fourth window to our right. I share a fire escape with my neighbor." She explained to him, "If the sky is cloud-free at night, I can see some twinkles of the skyline."

Homelander watched her profile, how her face lit up when she talked about seeing just a part of the skyline. He felt his lips twitch before he licked them while staring unabashedly at her. He hated that he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that, that he wanted to only see a smile on her face. "Your mother lives here with you?"

Annie saw the way he was looking at her and turned away as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She grabbed her bookbag from the floor between her feet and whispered as she tugged her shoes back on, "No, just me…" She reached for the door and grinned, "Uh, thanks for dropping me off."

She was not going to let this man into her personal life and see how she lived. She would rather let the silver-toothed stranger question her again.

Homelander reached out and covered her hand on the door, "Annie…" He muttered as his other hand cupped the back of her neck, his thumb tracing her throat, "Don't get out." He whispered.

"You promised, you'd drop me off and go, John…" Annie reminded him that as she felt the butterflies flutter in her stomach, she couldn't meet his eyes. They were too intense, and he was too close, and his cologne was messing with her mind. His mouth was a few inches from hers; everything was far too distracting. She turned and pressed her forehead to his jaw, her eyes shut while she rested against him.

Homelander shifted, his lips pressed to her forehead. "I'll get the door for you, I mean, I am a gentleman." He sighed as his hand tightened. He kissed her forehead before moving his mouth closer to her ear, "Please don't be stubborn tonight. Get a ride with one of your coworkers." He said before quickly climbing out of the car.

Annie watched him walk around the front of the SUV before opening her door and offering her his hand. She stared at it before wrapping her hand in his and letting him pull her out of the car. She landed on the ground and reached for her bookbag, but he picked it up.

Homelander's hand went to the small of her back and led her to the steps of her apartment building. As they moved closer and he opened the door for her, they ran into Alex standing in front of the mailboxes, absentmindedly cycling through his mail.

Alex spotted her, and his face lit up as a smile stretched there. "Annie! Hey, I was just about to knock on your—" He trailed off as he noticed Homelander beside her. He looked relaxed, but there was something dangerous about his presence here around her.

"Oh, and this is?" Alex asked, looking between them with confusion. He noticed Homelander's hand on Annie's hip, his fingers digging into the top of her low-rise yoga pants.

Homelander's fingers dug into her waist and stared blankly at Alex. He said nothing as his eyes traveled up and down his form, sizing him up with a look Annie knew all too well. She groaned to herself before speaking up, "Alex, this is John. John, Alex—he lives next door."

Alex collapsed the envelopes into one hand and extended the other, reaching forward. "Hey, nice to meet you, man."

Homelander didn't take his hand. He glared at it, his lip curling before he glanced toward Annie, "He's just your neighbor?" He questioned before his frown deepened, "The one you share a fire escape with?"

Annie had never felt more embarrassed in her life than right now. It was like some imaginary pissing contest was about to kick off. She rubbed her face with her hands. She couldn't believe that this might spur another shouting match between them.

Just because of Alex.

"Yes. Alex Super is just my neighbor, John." Annie hissed at him.

"Oh, first and last name basis. Well, Alex, I'm John Homelander. Since Annie January decided I needed your whole fucking life story." Homelander said as his eyes narrowed.

Alex felt something oozing from him, confidence? Ego? He didn't know, but he had heard of Homelander before, and he wasn't going to feed into his ego and be wary like everyone else. "John Homelander? Cool… I mean… what do you do?"

Homelander's lips twisted into a fangy grin, but it didn't reach his icy blue eyes as he stared at Alex. "Do?" He repeated as he stared blankly. "I can do whatever the fuck I want to. If you mean what I do for a living, well, that's a little harder to describe. I just enjoy having my hand wrapped around pulses…"

Annie knew what he was doing. He was posturing and implying many different things because that was not the proper way to say the quote. Having one's finger on the pulse versus what he said was two totally different things, but she felt like he knew that. "Okay, well, we are not about to do this. I'll see you later, Alex." She said while waving at him and pulling Homelander along with her.

She reached down to shove his hand from her hip, but he caught her hand, lacing their fingers together as they climbed 7 flights of stairs. She could hear him complaining about the lack of an elevator on the property.

It wasn't until they reached the 4th floor that she noticed he wasn't complaining anymore. Annie looked over her shoulder to see that his eyes were trained on her; her eyebrow was arched as she continued walking.

Homelander was focused on watching her walk in front of him. He was very focused on her hips switching and the way her ass looked in her yoga pants, plump and round. He wondered if she'd be able to fill his hands; he figured she would. He knew her skin was soft already; she had to be smooth all over.

Annie stopped on the seventh floor in front of apartment 7B. She had unlocked her door before turning toward him. "Um, well, this is me… so, I'll see you later." She said awkwardly as she reached for her bookbag.

Homelander said nothing and merely followed behind her into her apartment. Annie sighed as she closed and locked the door behind them, wondering what he thought of the place. It was empty aside from her bedroom and bathroom. She could've easily lied and said she just moved in, but he knew she'd been here for a few months now.

The studio apartment featured an open living space that connected the living room to the kitchen, while her bedroom and bathroom were hidden behind walls and doors. Annie stretched her arms out to show him the place, "I can't offer you anything… if I had anything to cook, I still probably wouldn't have done it." She said with a shrug.

Homelander had dropped her bookbag on the counter and looked around before he spotted the windows. He peered outside and hummed as he touched the glass before rubbing his fingers as if the dirt transferred. "You said you can see the skyline from here?" He asked.

Annie kicked out of her Converse by the door before meeting him by her window. She could see the lawn chairs Alex had put out on the fire escape for them. "No, I said I can see some twinkles from buildings at night if the sky is clear." She corrected him.

"You know, I could show you a real skyline… my office at Vought has a 360 view from the top floor… or my penthouse in Manhattan." Homelander hummed as he wondered what buildings she could see. He tilted his head as he noticed the chairs, "Oh, your just a neighbor, Alex, put chairs out for the two of you. What's next, a secret door between your fucking apartments?"

Annie rolled her eyes at him, "Are you jealous, John? You do know we aren't a couple or anything, right? You just have a sick obsession with me that I'm allowing." She teased with a smile.

Homelander arched his eyebrow, "Jealous? I'm jealous of him?"

Annie shrugged as she leaned back against her window. She crossed her arms, "If the shoe fits… You sound a little jealous to me, John." She said in a singsongy voice.

Homelander scoffed, exhaling through his nose with a huff, "I don't like him. That's all. No jealousy here."

Annie laughed in disbelief, "You don't like him? You don't even know him, John. Alex is sweet."

Homelander leaned against the window facing her. He propped one of his arms up, caging her against the panes. "Sweet? Alex is sweet? I know his type. The sweetness is just an act, Annie." He said, looking at her face, that she still looked a bit exhausted.

Annie tilted her head back as she reached out to adjust his lapel. She didn't know why she did, but she straightened it for him. "What's his type since you know everything, John?"

"Oh, that's easy. A guy like him wants something that doesn't belong to him. They just want to get in your pants. He'll show you everything good they can do until their true colors come out." Homelander said as he backed her into her wall.

"You know from experience, or is this a generalization?" Annie questioned as she watched him lower his face to hers; their noses brushed against each other, and she could feel his breath fanning against her lips.

"Which one makes me sound less like an asshole?" Homelander asked with a crooked grin. His hand caged her in, pressing beside her head high on the wall behind her.

Annie hated to admit it, but if he were to try something, maybe even kiss her, she'd let him. God, she wanted him to kiss her. "I'd go with a generalization, but I feel like that might be hard… You already sound like one." She said while leaning her head toward his. Their lips were hovering a few inches away from each other.

Homelander huffed out a chuckle and went to close the gap between them, only for his phone to ring, breaking the moment between them. The growl that emanated from his chest made him sound like an animal. He cursed and dug through his pockets for his phone.

Annie sighed as she leaned back against the wall, wondering what was wrong with her. Why was she disappointed? Did she like him or not? She was so confused as she watched him step away from her.

Homelander angrily answered his phone with a curt, 'yes' coming from his mouth.

Annie watched the way his back stiffened, his tone changed to something murderous. She raised her eyebrows as she tried to listen in. She didn't know who was on the other side, but she wanted to find out. She acted like she wasn't listening as he came back toward her.

Homelander shoved his phone back into his pocket. He turned back toward her, cupped her jaw, and stared into her eyes as he spoke seriously. "I need to go. Ride with one of your coworkers back home, Annie. If not, call me, I will stop what I am doing and personally come get you." He made the promise with finality, knowing she wouldn't listen to him.

Annie shook her head in his grasp, "Nope. Can't do that. It's bad enough you know where I live. I don't need them to." She said, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Homelander chuckled as he let go of her face, "Then I'll be waiting for your call." He said as she scoffed. He didn't have her phone number. Annie squealed as he reached behind her to grab her phone from her back pocket, but she had none. He may have felt her up, squeezing her ass when he didn't need to. She instead produced her phone from where it was tucked in her waistband and handed it to him. He didn't look ashamed for copping a free feel before he flipped it so her face unlocked it. "Here, I'll tell you my number, but you type it."

Annie snatched her phone back, none too gently. She typed his number in, added a crown emoji to name him, and turned the screen so he could see it. "There. Happy, John?"

Homelander nodded, "Not yet. Call me." He ordered.

Annie hesitated before she finally clicked the call button. She really didn't want him to have her phone number, but if this would make him leave her alone, she could deal with it. They both listened to his phone ring in his pocket, and she sighed, "Happy now?"

Homelander pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing her there before murmuring, "Yes. I'll see you later. I have business to attend to." He patted her cheek lovingly before letting himself out of her apartment.

Once the door closed, Annie slipped to the floor and leaned her head back against the wall behind her. She stared at her popcorn ceiling with a sigh, "Why do I like the ones that would hurt me?"

John Homelander was a man with more skeletons in his closet than skyscrapers in New York. She was just lucky that she wasn't one.

Chapter Text

Homelander shut the door of Annie's apartment behind him while he stood in the hall, seeing how bare and unlived the place was, which made his chest ache. He couldn't fault her if most of her time was spent in the club or with her mother. He couldn't even compare their homes; his penthouse resembled a museum of everything, which meant nothing.

Her apartment was filled with nothing, but it meant everything.

Homelander rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the cuffs to his suit jacket. He sighed to himself as he started down the stairs. Him leaving with Annie replayed through his mind, the way she leaned into the kiss on her forehead, how she trusted him, even for that sliver of a moment.

Was he weak? He's never been this slow on the draw. Did he have a performance issue? No, that couldn't be the case every time he looked at her, his blood divided between North and South on his body. The mere thought had his tailored dress pants fitting him too well at times.

He wondered whether this was how his father felt about his mother. He remembered the stories: Benjamin Homelander was a playboy, a philanthropist in the way that he wasn't doing charity work, but finding different women to grace his bed at the end of the night, or so he was told.

Benjamin was the poster child for America; he was their "Soldier Boy" coming back from a covert operation to build a company from the ground up. Everything he did was overlooked; it simply became his reputation.

Then he met his wife, Madelyn. Homelander remembered how his father was obsessed with her; she wasn't anything like him. There have been multiple stories, but his father was adamant that they met at some board meeting between Vought and potential charities they were vetting. Madelyn was there with her boss or co-worker, and Benjamin Homelander acted like a dog in heat. He gave the company anything they asked, just to keep looking at her. He could never get the story straight because neither his father nor his uncle enjoyed dredging up the past.

Benjamin's obsession never faltered until the day she died. Homelander could remember hearing his father's voice on the other end of the phone line; his voice was never the same after that, colder, darker, an edge to it. His father had loved and lost everything, so he had nothing to lose after that.

Shortly after Benjamin went into business for himself, he took out some made men, and the FBI was closing in on him. They sat in the back of an SUV before he spoke to Homelander, before he was caught, and cupped his face as he told his last few words he'd say to his without being on the other side of a phone.

"No one can take your name from you, Johnny. Look at me, I fought for this country, and what did I get for it? Forgotten. But you, no, you'll always be a Homelander, and you'll make everyone remember our fucking name. They're going to try to stop you, and don't let them. Kill them before you get caught."

That phrase was the one thing that rattled in his mind before he made any type of move. It was the last time he spoke to his father without a phone between them. He couldn't bring himself to go to the prison where the man was rotting, because he couldn't look to see his father shackled. His father was a strong man who would never have gotten caught and treated this way if it weren't for his mother.

Homelander took a deep breath as he came back to his surroundings. He wasn't sure he'd be able to let Annie get to him enough that he'd spend the rest of his life twisted like his father. He had more bodies connected to him than the old man himself; he wouldn't get a chance to see the light of day if a RICO came his way.

The thought made him shiver.

He walked down the stairs as Alex was walking up past him; he couldn't help the sneer that came across his face. He wondered if his father was a fool for becoming so attached to a woman and obsessed with her. Then he saw Alex and thought maybe his father loved his mother the perfect amount, and he was his right because the thought of any man near Annie made him sick. Maybe Benjamin Homelander was a lot of things, but he was right more often than not.

Homelander's fist tightened until all his knuckles cracked. He ignored the dark voice goading him inside his mind and tried to quicken his pace. He was almost down to the landing beside the mailboxes when he heard his name being called. He looked over his shoulder to see where Alex stopped on the steps with a smile plastered on his face.

Oh, how Homelander wanted to punch his teeth out. He ran his hand through his hair. "What?" He answered shortly.

Alex came down a few more steps, leaving a wide berth between them, but close enough that they could speak without yelling across the gap. "So, Annie, huh?"

Homelander raised his eyebrow as he tilted his head, "What of it?" He questioned, moving both hands to his dress pants pockets. His concealed pistol, which was tucked in the back of his pants, was burning against his skin, calling out to be used.

It would be easy; he was quick on the draw.

Alex wouldn't know what happened. One moment, he'd be standing here, the next, he'd be slumped backward against the stairs with an extra hole between his eyes. No, too clean. He'd have his eye blown out because Homelander didn't like the idea of Alex's eyes looking at Annie. That sounds better, the thought made his lips twitch upward.

"As her friend…" Alex started, and Homelander's lip twitched more into a scowl rather than the grin he had from imagining the man's death.

Homelander couldn't stop the growl from building up in his voice, "Her friend? Weren't you just her fucking neighbor? Which one is it? Her friend or her neighbor?" He hissed angrily. His eyes narrowed on the way Alex's throat bobbed; he wanted to wrap his hand around his throat and watch the light die in his eyes.

Alex took a step back, putting an even greater distance between them. He swallowed uncomfortably, "Take it easy. All I'm saying is that she's going through a lot and deserves better than someone who would have her looking over her shoulder all the time, you know? New York is crazy as it is, but inviting that into your private life is a lot."

Homelander felt a smirk settle across his features. He chuckled, but without humor or warmth. "Oh, Alex. You know who I am, don't you? Is that why you have this savior stick up your ass? Because you're more scared of who I am than she is?" He asked while taking a step toward the other man.

Homelander asked once more under his breath as he took another step closer. "Do you know what I do?"

Alex's back hit the bannister and realized there wasn't anywhere to go. He looked from left to right as his breathing grew heavier, "I-I… y-yes… I know who you are and I… she shouldn't…" His eyes glanced toward Homelander's pocket, where his hand was still buried; he could only imagine how fast a gun would be in his face.

Homelander reached out with his left, cupping the back of Alex's neck like a cat holding their kitten. He gripped the scruff tight and sneered in his face, "Do you think you're better than me because you haven't known the pleasure of being a God? Taking lives as you please. Listening to grown men cry and piss themselves begging? Does that make you better than me, Alex?" He asked as he stared into the frightened man's eyes.

Alex couldn't muster any words. He could only shake his head like a mute. He could feel tears welling in his eyes as his bladder threatened to release too. He flinched as Homelander's other hand gave him a condescending pat on the cheek.

Homelander's face suddenly changed to a broad, fangy grin. He looked like a shark in Alex's eyes. He smoothed his hands down Alex's shirt, straightening it out as he stepped back. "Great, now that we're on the same page and we established that you're not better than I am," he straightened the lapels of his jacket, not as perfectly as Annie had done it earlier, but he would deal with that later. "Stay away from Annie… I know where you live, and I have a habit of making late-night visits. Some aren't pleasant."

Homelander didn't need a response; the look on his face was satisfying enough. He walked back outside to his SUV, where he pulled his phone out to check for missed calls. He had none, but he needed to have a conversation with the Seven. He dialed his personal assistant's number.

"Miss Ashley Barrett…" Homelander hummed as she answered after the first ring.

"Erm, yes, sir? Did you need anything?" Ashley asked while Homelander climbed into his SUV. He buckled himself into his seatbelt, then clicked on the screen and switched his call to hands-free.

"I need you to round up the Seven. I need them in the boardroom. I will be there within the next hour." Homelander muttered as he shifted his car into gear. He glanced up at her window, wondering if she was watching him, before he pulled off.

"Oh! You're coming in today? Uh, yes, yes. I'll arrange for them to meet in the boardroom, sir." Ashley said, barely hiding the surprise in her voice.

Homelander understood; he barely spent time at Vought Tower. Being cooped up in his office felt like being a caged animal. He was gawked at through the frosted windows like he was a part of a zoo exhibit. Sometimes he wondered if he should've been more people-friendly like his father and met the people he employed, but he wasn't that type of man.

He already had to care about bullshit beyond belief when he had to shake hands and play the charming, not evil billionaire. He wasn't cruel, wicked, like labor laws or things, more like he was evil in that sometimes he killed people over disagreements, money shortages, product shortages, and stuff like that.

Homelander would rather keep his eyes on the money off the books rather than the legally made cash. But then again, he had his image to think of. So, he kissed babies, signed books, donated money, and accepted awards. "I'm already on my way there. Is there anything else, Ashley?" He could hear her hesitation, which made his headache worse. He may need a stiff drink when he gets to his office.

"You have a visitor in your office, sir…" Ashley replied with worry in her voice, "He didn't give a name."

Homelander pulled up to the red light before the highway and sighed. He rubbed his face before clearing his throat, "And what is he doing there?" He asked boredly. He was used to random people stopping by for a 'chat'.

"Well, he's sitting at your desk with his feet up. He said, and I might be butchering it, but 'Blondie oughta know I was coming to visit by now.' I don't know what he's talking about, and I threatened to get security, but he didn't care." Ashley explained that while he heard her shifting, it was likely that she was glancing back at him.

Homelander ran a hand through his hair as he thought of the only person who'd call him that. Butcher crawling out of his hole to speak to him meant something important was happening. They never spoke at Vought; instead, they always met at the club if things needed to be discussed.

"Make sure he doesn't touch anything. No bottles. Nothing, Ashley. I'll be there." Homelander stressed out; he had to make sure she knew that the Brit kept his dirty fingers to himself.

"Of course. Yes, sir." Ashley said before Homelander disconnected the call. The rest of the drive was silent. He heard the occasional honking and other city and traffic noises, but he let it fall to a murmur in the background.

Traffic was taking too long, which meant his drink had to wait even longer. Homelander looked around his car, his hands were everywhere as his eyes darted between his searching and the traffic. In his glove box, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes before pulling one from the slip.

Homelander quickly popped the end in his mouth as he searched for the lighter in his center console. He promptly lit it, then rolled down the window and blew smoke out. It may not be the same as the burn of whiskey down his throat, but something needed to calm the irritation building in him.

As he took his exit, the large, imposing building of Vought Tower was coming into view. It was a beautiful structure, metal and glass blended together. At the very top was his domain, where he spent most of his time glaring out the window down at everyone below him; he was a King looking over his kingdom.

No, a God.

That felt better. That felt more fitting than anything else; he was a God.

Homelander played with his lighter, flicking the flame on and off as he pulled into the parking garage beneath the building. In his peripheral vision, he could see a valet run toward him, but he needed to calm the whispers first. He took one last drag of his cigarette before rolling his window down to a crack and flicking it out.

He tilted his head forward against the steering wheel. He could feel the weight of the city, a million eyes on him, waiting in the weeds for him to fuck up. He could hear the murmurs and whispers of those trying to rise in the shadows, all because they thought it would be a shift of power.

That everyone believed the true King of New York caged was returning to snatch the rug from underneath his feet. Much like his father, as long as a Homelander was running things, he didn't care. He was sure his father would dip his toes back into things once released, but demanding control?

No, it's been 14 years since he walked these streets. They're different now, and they belong to him.

Homelander expected everyone to understand, but they didn't. Respect was earned. Fear was given. But loyalty? He's seen men jump ship with a bit of cash waved in their faces. Loyalty can be bought now.

The valet looked up at him as Homelander finally opened the door, "Get a scratch on it and I'll throw you from the 99th floor." He spoke without acknowledging him, other than a quick glance over.

The kid stared at the SUV with wide eyes and quickly nodded nervously, "Y-yes, sir. Mr. Homelander, sir." He said before climbing behind the wheel.

Homelander smoothed down his shirt as he walked into the lobby. People were walking around, doing their jobs, chatting, among other things, but it all came to a stop when they noticed him. It's as if the air had been sucked out of the grand lobby. His shoes clicked off the marble floors as he nodded in greeting; soon, that caused an avalanche of greetings in return.

All of his employees bowed their heads and chorused in unison.

Homelander walked toward the elevator and immediately paused once he met frantic pale blue eyes. Ashley stood by the elevator, holding a thick stack of documents and her iPad, as she fidgeted from side to side. He could feel the tension rolling off of her in waves.

"M-morning, sir. Well, afternoon now." Ashley chripped excitedly, but her eyes looked worried.

Homelander only arched his eyebrow in response. Her skirt swished around her legs as she shifted; her back was straighter than usual. "Is our mutual friend causing a scene in my office right now, Miss Barrett?"

Ashley gave him a nod as she handed him the documents, "These are your morning briefings from the meeting while you were at Bellevue Hospital. How was that, by the way? These are the latest shipments… uh, Mr. Moskowitz dropped off these new routes? And these circled in red are what Ms. Risinger left, something about other companies trying to move into our business deals or something."

Homelander flipped through the stacks with a hum. Ashley obviously didn't know Vought International was a front, and he was merely here to keep an actual paper trail of money. But half of the Seven being employed meant they could move like a company, and he could "invest" in buildings and things for the empire.

Ashley walked into the elevator behind him, and they were both silent, she out of fear of talking out of turn, and he because he was thinking about a certain blonde who lived in a roach motel. Homelander barely read any of the documents, just scanning his eyes over words that seemed important. "Miss Barrett, I need you to look into the best oncology hospitals on the East Coast for me."

"Um, sir?"

"When you do, ensure that my mother-in-law, Donna January, will be transferred from Bellevue Hospital," Homelander said as he folded the documents in his hands.

Ashley tapped on her iPad while nodding, "So, you and Miss Risinger are—" Homelander cut her off with a loud growl. Ashley didn't dare look up at him as she heard his voice. "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Miss Barrett. My personal life is just that. Do as you're told and tell me when you find a match."

The doors slid open on the top floor, and he could hear the typing keyboards. Mostly, the workers upstairs rarely gawked and stared at him, like the other floors; they had seen him enough that his presence wasn't surprising anymore. Homelander and Ashley went their separate ways; she went to her desk, and he walked through the glass door leading to his windowed office.

Inside, the floor-to-ceiling walls of glass showed him the city below. It stretched on for miles, each way. His own private throne, which he could rule in silence, unbothered. He'd usually stand for hours on end, hands behind his back, gazing down at the cars below. Each one more insignificant than the last, they were ants compared to him, and he was willing to watch them burn under a magnifying glass.

If he wasn't judging the people he couldn't see, he'd stare out into the cubicles outside and watch his employees. Much like the cars, they were ants. He could easily replace them. Not one of them had a name or purpose beyond being a lackey.

Homelander turned to see Billy Butcher sitting at his desk, his feet booted and kicked up on the surface, a cigar hanging from his mouth, and his hand wrapped around a costly bottle of Macallan aged whiskey that he drank for celebrations. He set the documents on his desk before swiping Butcher's feet from the surface, "William, when did I earn a visit from you on this day, especially?" He said this while sitting on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed.

Butcher looked up at him with a scowl, slightly annoyed that his feet were swiped off the desk like they were and that Homelander was sitting near his personal space. "Well, Blondie, this is the only place I figured you would visit, yeah. And I stopped in to see the missus on the media floor, she makes Vought look like everyone's a kitten and not raging cunts."

Homelander rolled his eyes at the smoke ring Butcher blew out from his mouth, "Ah, well, Rebecca does her job beautifully, but she had experience with making people look good, after all, she's married to you." He said as he snatched the bottle from Butcher's grip, "This is expensive, William, and I'm sure it costs more than anything you've touched in this lifetime. This is a Macallan Fine and Rare 1971... it's been aged for at least 30 years, William. So, unless you have 27 thousand to replace it, be frugal drinking it."

Homelander decided whether or not to drink; he shrugged as he brought the bottle to his lips. The burn in his throat felt better than how he was feeling. "William, cut to the chase, you aren't here to see your wife. You'd be on her floor. You're in my office, which means you have something I won't get out of you without payment, so spit it out." He said sharply before taking another swig and handing the bottle to him.

"I came here for two reasons. One, the CIA is joining the FBI regarding things you're doing, Blondie. They're looking to reinstate me just to catch your blonde arse in a RICO like your daddy. Grace Mallory's cunt is getting revved up at the thought of you in shackles. My old mates, Susan Raynor and Joe Kessler, are game in catching you." Butcher said, grabbing the bottle back to take a quick swig. He watched Homelander's face as he processed the information he was given. He tilted the bottle back and hummed to himself, "Shite's worth the price tag, eh?"

Homelander had multiple thoughts racing through his mind; the first was annoyance that the FBI was acting so soon, and now it seems coincidental. The second and most important was exhaustion. He may get caught, do a decent bid, and get out on good behavior. The third was disbelief because he couldn't believe he thought about that as a way out, not while he had a blonde bartender to make his.

"The second is Annie January. My little bartender, I keep employed? Stay away from her. Blondie, any other woman is available and within reach, I'm sure Klara Risinger has been barking up that tree for years… Annie…? She's got enough going on. She can't take care of her sick mum and you…" Butcher said with a shrug as he stubbed the cigar out on a notepad.

Homelander didn't even care about the first piece of news he got; he was sure Butcher was not rejoining the FBI after they ousted him from the agency. But leave Annie alone? He just broke down a few of her walls, and in doing so, he finally got her number. He wasn't about to leave her alone; for some reason, she's deeply embedded in his psyche, and he just can't get enough of her.

"Firstly, thank you, William, for the heads up. I'm surprised you didn't keep these cards to yourself. Secondly, no. She's your employee, but not your daughter. I won't stay away because you have a problem with my blood-stained hands on her." Homelander said with a deep scowl.

"Blondie, I don't know if you've pulled your head out of your arse lately, but you're fucking dangerous. I'm begging you to stay away. I don't care about where your grubby hands have been, it's the hooks you'll dig into her…" Butcher said as he ran a hand through his hair, "She's gonna trust you, and you're gonna break it. How do you promise a girl like that you'll stay safe when you're too deep in the game? When there are odds stacked against you in every corner of the city?"

Homelander could only stare at the Brit, no emotions behind it, just blank. He knew Butcher was wasting his breath on trying to stop him. But it made him reconsider his hatred for a brief moment; something about his warning felt almost brotherly. He hated that he considered his words briefly.

"Blondie, I just don't want her in the crossfire. I… I heard about your mum. How could you live with yourself if to get to you, they took her from you?" Butcher asked as he met Homelander's glacier blue eyes. "If not any of the other families around, the FBI and CIA are knocking on the door. How long until they decide to blow Vought down?"

Homelander was cornered with logic, and it made him grind his teeth. Him being the one with his mother at the time of her ill-fated death probably did more of a number on him than he'd care to admit, but replacing her in the memory with Annie made his jaw ache. What if he went through with their slow building of trust? What if she became his? What if it wasn't him and his mother, but Annie and their child? Would he be able to live with himself?

"I understand, most of it, William. The CIA and FBI are the least of my concerns; they've been checking Vought's books for years and haven't found anything. All they're doing is nipping at my heels like fucking pups. Annie, though, that one is hard to grasp. You can try and scare her away, but I want you to know there are already some men looking at her for information on me…" Homelander started with a shrug.

"At the club? Bloody fuck. So, do I need to pull her? You do realize she'd have my bollocks because her paychecks go to her mother." Butcher said as he put his face in his hands to groan, "MM's gonna have to work harder. I might need to bring in some extra help. Fucking Hell."

Homelander pushed to his feet and pointed at him, "No!" He shouted, "Don't you dare think about pulling her from the bar or any shifts. She is stubborn and won't let this slide. Do you know she walks 8 hours a day between work and the hospital for her mother? I had to force her to get in the car with me so I could drop her off."

"She's been walking to her flat and back all this time?" Butcher asked with furrowed eyebrows, "She said she's had rides and Ubers."

Homelander scoffed as he shook his head, "An Uber? A ride? That girl is stubborn. She'd probably walk 14 hours before she'd accept help. It makes no sense, her mother seems very comfortable with asking for things…"

"Oi! You've met her mother? What have you and Annie been doing? Playing fucking house? Mummy and daddy driving home together?" Butcher mocked as he stood up from the desk chair. "So, you've had a shag then? It's progressed that far?"

Homelander snorted at him, "A shag? No, we haven't had sex, William. I only met her mother…"

"What are you playing at? You're not exactly… moral." Butcher commented, "I mean, good for you, Blondie. Jumping straight in doesn't always get the motor running, yeah?"

Homelander closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. "William, I am not playing at nothing. I've been known to date and woo women before…" He insisted before checking his watch, "I have a meeting, I suggest you see yourself out. We can discuss this further at the club tonight… I need to see the man that Annie described."

"Ah, ah, ah. You're not going to start a bloody war in my club. You can watch and look for the bloke, but keep your hands and weapons to yourself." Butcher warned as he grabbed the bottle from the desk, "Consider this as payment from one friend to another."

Homelander watched Butcher stride from his office with his bottle and pinched the bridge of his nose. He and the man hated each other, but one thing they had in common was the love of cash.

Now, they had two things, Annie was one.

Homelander didn't know why she was so attractive to him. Maybe it was her spirit or how she didn't hesitate in front of him. Annie wasn't scared of him; she probably couldn't care less about the people he's buried. All she did was exist, if only for her mother, and that was endearing and exciting to him.

Far more exciting than when he pulls a trigger.

Chapter Text

Homelander had several minutes to kill before he decided to go to the conference room to meet with the Seven. He sat at his desk and cursed at Butcher for playing around with his chair settings before he leaned back and laced his hands over his stomach. He let his eyes slide closed as he thought about his mother again.

Was this how his father felt every day? Was protecting another person supposed to be so difficult? Would he fall deeper into a rabbit hole of feelings? What happens once he gets her? Would his feelings change and disappear, or would they grow stronger?

Homelander regretted letting Butcher leave with his bottle already. He ran his hands over his face before opening his eyes to stare out one of his windows. He heard the door open, but he didn't look away from the window yet.

"Sir," Ashley said as she peeked her head into his office, "The Seven are in the boardroom for you."

"Thank you, Miss Barrett," Homelander muttered as he moved from his chair. He slipped past her out of his office and down the hall to the boardroom. Much like the whole floor, the walls were floor-to-ceiling glass windows. He pushed open the doors with a bored expression. His hands were buried in his pockets as his eyes traveled around the V-shaped table. Usually, he'd be at the tip, but he couldn't sit for this.

"I trust you all know what's coming." Homelander began, his gaze sweeping across each member at the table. From left to right, there were Reggie Franklin, Alex Schecht, Kevin Moskowitz, Earving Noir Jr, Klara Risinger, and Maggie Shaw.

"There obviously have been stirrings about a potential war ensuing, but I heard from a contact that the FBI and CIA are looking to make moves soon. On Vought, possibly. Maybe just me." Homelander said as he started to pace back and forth, "We have Bosses that are stuck in the past and are clinging to their old glory… they believe that power will be shifted once Benjamin comes home."

Almost everyone looked at him with confusion on their face at 'Benjamin' being mentioned. Reggie held his hand up to cut in, "All respect to you, Homelander, but uh, who's Benjamin?" He asked as he tapped his fingers on the glass desk.

Homelander stopped pacing to glance at Reggie, "My father. He's a non-factor." He waved his hand, "Never mind, forget about him, this isn't the time for an in-depth history lesson. The facts are that Benjamin Homelander created Vought after coming home from some war, and his alias, Soldier Boy, he fucked some people over. Then he turned Vought into a cover to run various operations through it 'legally'. Got it?"

He heard the scattered agreements as he walked toward the back of the room. He stopped at the windows overlooking the city and stared out. He continued, "Everyone is watching me and my every move. I don't know if you all have been vigilant, but there are FBI tails… around. They will try to find anything they can pin on us or Vought and take us down. They'll start with raids of all the businesses and houses before they move onto arrests…"

Homelander's brow furrowed at the light snoring he heard. He turned his head as he watched EJ's head slump over in his lap, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Is EJ sleeping?" He questioned with disappointment showing on his face. He looked around, staring mainly at Kevin, "Do you all think I'm speaking another fucking language? Earving Noir Junior is fucking sleeping… wake him up."

Kevin held his thumbs up before kicking beneath the table, jolting EJ awake with a blink of his eyes. The younger man rubbed his face with a wide yawn, "Oh, shit. Sorry, y'all, I'm narcoleptic."

Homelander rolled his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, "What the fuck." He said as he shook his head, "My father had your father in the Seven and he wasn't a fucking embarrassment to his name." He growled out as his hands gripped the back of the chair in front of him. "He survived a fucking Russian necktie and had a vat of acid poured over half his face, and he went to war every day, and I'm stuck with you and your bullshit sleeping!"

Homelander couldn't control himself and picked up the chair, tossing it at the thick windows overlooking the city. The glass didn't break; it barely shivered. He watched as the chair bounced off the glass and landed, then picked it up and threw it again. He huffed and hit his head against the glass, resting his forehead there, "Everyone… get out. I just… I'll have us meet again soon. Not now."

Reggie leaned over to whisper to EJ, "Homelander is gonna snap and his crazy ass finna kill all of us."

"Shit, son, I ain't know sleepin' was gonna have him crash out," EJ murmured as he walked with Schecht, Kevin, and Reggie out of the office. "I'm doin' my pickups then headin' by the Boys, y'all coming through?"

Maggie didn't glance back at him; they've known each other long enough that they knew when to leave each other alone. "Well, John, I want you to know Stan Edgar is looking for a way to buy some shares… I think he's gonna try to muscle you out of Vought by taking majority control." She said as she walked toward the door.

Klara raised her eyebrow at the other woman. She didn't like how comfortable she was delving into Vought's business. They were a part of the Seven and not in the company. How would she know about that? "And how do you even know? She could just be saying anything, Homelander." She said as she looked over at him, still resting against the window.

Homelander ignored Klara; the woman had been getting testy since he had been ignoring her. All of it was for good reason; he should've never gotten into her pants, even if she was willing and throwing herself at him. Maggie was good at these sorts of things, and he actually listened to her advice some of the time.

But if it was true, they'd have to tighten up. If Stan bought more shares from the board, he'd be able to take control, push him out, and expose their illegal dealings. He couldn't let that happen; his entire empire would collapse in mere seconds.

He couldn't let that happen.

Stan Edgar was a wise man who would expose everything, driven by sheer hatred for him and his father. He would be behind bars while Stan collects everything he worked his ass off for.

"Thank you for the heads up, Maggie. I'll look into it and see who's trying to sell." Homelander answered without looking back. He listened to Maggie huff at Klara, goading the other woman as she walked from the office.

It didn't take long for Klara to slither her way behind him. Homelander rolled his eyes as he felt her hands smooth around his waist and down his torso, "You're so tense, Homelander… it must be hard running a city by yourself with no help?" Klara muttered from behind him.

Homelander felt her lips on his neck, and he scowled as he caught her wandering hand. He glared out the glass, "Leave… now, I am not in the mood." His voice was icy as his hand tightened.

"John," Klara muttered as her lips brushed his neck. "You've been ignoring me and my calls and texts. It's getting frustrating now…" She slid her free hand down the front of his body and slipped over his pants, "I can help you blow off some steam like old times…"

Klara's breath was knocked out of her as he pinned her against the glass window. She smiled up at him and licked her lips as she recovered, "Oh, you need it rough?"

Homelander's nostrils flared as his cold eyes focused on hers, his lips curled as he yelled in her face. "I am not in the mood. Don't fucking touch me or call me or even acknowledge me unless it has something to do with your fucking routes. Got it?"

Klara stared at him in shock as he threw her wrist from him. She brushed off her clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and fixing her hair. She looked at his cold face and shook her head, "Fucking son of a bitch," She spat as she left the boardroom.

Homelander put his forehead in his hand and groaned. She was a vindictive woman, and he had to be sure she wasn't plotting to do something stupid. He'd hate to have to kill her. He'd have to remember to have Maggie trail her because he'd be damned if she snuck into his penthouse to try and do some half cocked plan for her to get him back.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he was seconds away from tossing the device at the window, too, but he decided against it. He pulled out his phone to check the notification; it was a new text message among all the others he had received.

Hughie just picked me up. Happy?

Homelander read it with a slight grin. At least Annie knew better than to keep being stubborn. He was actually impressed that she put aside her pride to do what he had begged her to do. He'll ask her about it when he goes to the club later; first, he has to visit an old acquaintance of his father's. He responded quickly.

Good. 👍

Homelander rubbed his jaw as he pocketed his phone and stormed from the boardroom. He walked toward Ashley's desk on the outside of his office, "Miss Barrett, I'm gone for the remainder of today, and I probably won't be in for a few days. Hold all my calls until I return." He informed before heading toward the elevator.

The ride down to the parking garage was a silent one. People got into the elevator with him, but didn't try any small talk; he attributed it to the permanent scowl he had plastered on his face. Homelander hated that Butcher might be right in this case.

He may have to stay away from Annie; obviously, he wasn't going to. But he just wanted to let his inner thoughts know, Butcher may have been right, just this one time. His obsession would be more destructive than his trying to take care of her; he needed her safe, but he wanted her with him.

That was his problem.

Homelander walked out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He glanced at the valet as the teen pulled his SUV to a stop right in front of him. He decided to switch cars at his penthouse; he needed to go make his visit in something a little more undercover.

He pulled some cash out to tip the teen as he climbed into his SUV. The drive to his home was quicker than navigating from Annie's to the tower. He scowled as he pulled into his private garage and climbed out before going to the wall of car keys. He picked up a fob and clicked it, turning around to find his black Chevy Impala 1967 flashing its lights at him.

Homelander pulled his gun free. He gripped the ivory handle as he checked the magazine, just in case. He made a note to grab a spare mag from his home upstairs before he changed out of his suit. He opened the middle console, put his gun away, locked his car, and then went to the elevator to ride up to the top floor, where his penthouse was.

He walked into his home, and his expensive shoes didn't make a sound on the wooden flooring. He raised his eyebrows at how off-set his furniture was. He moved his couch back to its proper place. Once he made his way to his bedroom, he pulled his jacket off, tossing it across his king-sized bed. He unbuckled his belt, pulled it through the loops, and threw it aside. His trousers dropped to the floor over his shoes, which he kicked out of.

Homelander grabbed an old pair of blue jeans to pull up and a plain, white shirt. He glanced over at his suit pile on the floor. He'd hang it up when he got back later on. He went to the dresser by the door, shuffled through the top drawer for an extra magazine, and tucked it into his pocket. Then, he grabbed a basic blue ball cap and left with some worn sneakers on his feet.

He felt uncomfortable because he was not in his suit.

Homelander finally left and rode the elevator down to his personal garage. He climbed into the Impala and started out toward the only man that he knew could help him navigate this upcoming war, a man who fought through countless wars alongside his father. Maybe the only Earving Noir that was worth his name.

Chapter Text

Homelander's glacier-blue eyes cut from left to right as he inched along the street; he looked like he was staking out undercover. He probably looked like a cop to half the people on the sidewalk passing him. He kept his eyes peeled for the old sign.

It buzzed weakly in a neighborhood that seemed out of place.

Buster Beaver's Pizza.

Homelander remembered his father taking him here when he was younger, and his parents wanted date nights together; other than that, he hasn't set foot in the restaurant. He had to admit, Earving Sr. was not about to fold and be pushed around by the city; the restaurant was still standing and serving customers, even if it was surrounded by homes now.

He parked the car and climbed out, not without retrieving his gun and tucking it in the back of his jeans as he walked toward the entrance. He could hear the buzzing of the sign; the red neon barely glowed in the evening sky.

Homelander pushed open the door, listening to the chime. He glanced up as the cartoon characters played out on one of the TVs mounted in the corner. He could see the characters: Buster Beaver, the black sheep, a stallion, a mare, a pig, a goat, a fox, and an eagle. They were talking about the games in the back room, which included a ball pit.

"Hi! Welcome to Buster Beaver's Pizza! Are you dining in or taking pizza to go?" The cheerful young woman surprised him.

Homelander looked at the cashier, her hair was up in a puff ponytail, "Uh, Earving Noir… is he here?" He asked as he glanced around the place. The interior has not changed since his last visit; the bright red booths have faded to a brown color. The white tables had yellowed with age, yet they still looked the same.

"Mr. Noir is in the back taking inventory. He's not expecting anyone." She answered as she tilted her head, "And I haven't seen you around before. What do you have to do with my boss?"

Homelander looked at her and had to admit that he liked it when some people talked back to him, but now was not the time. He smirked down at the teenager, "He's a family friend. Tell him…" He hated saying it, "Little Johnny is here." He said lowly. She stared at him with narrowed eyes before she finally left him alone. She walked through the opening to the kitchen.

Homelander stood there and glanced around with a tad bit of paranoia. He remembered his father and Earving Sr. going into the kitchen for hours on end while he entertained himself with EJ at the ball pit. As he remembered his younger years, the door chimed behind him, and a customer walked in.

He raised his eyebrow as the man eyed him.

Before he could ask if there was a problem, the teenager returned and gestured for him to follow her through the kitchen to the back office. She left him outside the door, which had a thick plaque on it that read EARVING NOIR, Owner. He knocked on the door before forgetting that the man was mute now.

He opened the door and peered in. The man was dressed head to toe in black. He wore a button-up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dress pants, and some well-worn dress shoes. But Homelander wasn't focused on his outfit; his eyes were immediately drawn to his throat.

Noir's neck was mutilated. His throat had healed grossly, with keloids forming on his skin where it had been sutured back together. He knew his throat was slit so deeply that he choked on his blood, lying in a pool of it. While they buried him alive, he crawled from his shallow grave and left that room with the bodies of the men who tried to kill him left behind.

Homelander looked over him, realizing the Hell he went through supporting his father; if his vocal chords being shredded was the least of his worries, he was sure taking acid to the face was one of the major ones. The side of Noir's face was heavily scarred and looked like he had suffered, as his flesh was eaten away.

Noir was a living legend, much like his father. They were monsters disguised as humans. He has always been loyal to Benjamin Homelander, and if anyone had a right to overthrow him, it should've been Noir, but he didn't.

"Uncle Noir…" Homelander began by glancing around the office, where he found various pictures, news clippings, and articles about the Seven, all of which had been collected since his father's imprisonment. He tilted his head at the recent pictures of himself and plucked one off the wall to get a closer look. "I'm sure you know what's happening… soon?" He questioned as he turned to meet the man's eyes.

Noir stood up as he cupped Homelander's face. Only one side of his face could stretch into a smile; his other hand raised to sign out letters that Homelander had to put together. 'T-H-E-R-E-S B-L-O-O-D I-N T-H-E W-A-T-E-R.'

Homelander met his eyes and nodded, "When was the water ever without? The sharks are circling… Dad is on his way from lock up, and I think that many believe that we are vulnerable right now." He stopped Noir before he could respond, "You know I learned sign language for you. You don't need to sign the individual letters for me. I've gotten better, believe it or not."

Half of Noir's face showed surprise. He raised his hand to respond, 'You've learned? And I know your father is coming out soon. The old leaders are choosing sides.' He gestured to the free chair for Homelander to sit. When they both took their places, he signed once more, 'Took you long enough, but then again, you're stubborn and Benjamin Homelander's son.'

"Well, I may be my father's son, but EJ is nothing like you. The fucking guy fell asleep in a meeting. We have the CIA and FBI building a case on me, on the Seven, on Vought. And your son is a fucking narcoleptic!" Homelander huffed to himself as he rested back in the chair, "Of course it took some time to reach out to you… I've been handling things." He said with a shrug.

Noir's head tilted as he held his hands up to respond, 'Handling things? Shipments and routes have been unchecked… territories have shifted. What have you been handling?'

Homelander rolled his eyes as he shook his head, "You do know I have people who take care of that, right? And I've been handling things… personal issues." He muttered and turned his head to avoid looking at Noir. Honestly, he went from calling Klara away from her routes and territories to get a quickie to ignoring her and mulling over how to get Annie to trust him. So, it has been personal issues.

'I'll get back to that because of "personal issues"?' Noir gestured in a confused way, 'I want you to know, like your father, I am loyal to you. That being said, Stan Edgar is DEFINITELY going to try and fuck Vought over.'

Homelander put his head in his hand and sighed into his palm. "You are the second person to say this to me. Stan fucking Edgar. He has a fucking hard-on when it comes to hating me. He only hates me because of my father. He wants to take the company my father built from the ground up. It's bullshit." He complained as he ran his hands through his hair, knocking his cap off his head.

Noir tried multiple things to get his attention; eventually, he balled up a piece of paper and threw it at him. Once Homelander looked up, he signed his response, 'Your father did build Vought. He did it with his own money. His money wasn't exactly clean, but who was checking if it was stained in blood? But he did create a version of it; everyone has different events of it, and Stan Edgar will say it was his idea, but it wasn't. Stan left the company when a lot of our members were being popped off. He didn't stay. Your father did, and he took the responsibility.'

Homelander's eyes widened, and he stood up, forcing the chair to scrape against the ground, "That son of a bitch knew! He was in the Seven… was he how my father…" He couldn't finish the statement; he could only stare.

Noir said nothing, his hands dropped to his lap, and he nodded slowly.

"He was a fucking snitch? And he's still walking and breathing, and my… my mother was gunned down in front of me? But he…" Homelander felt his eyes start to water before he blinked, and suddenly, his eyes focused. They looked steely and cold.

Noir knew Homelander filed that way in his mind. He was going to constantly mull it over in his mind. He sighed before he decided to distract the younger man, 'Personal issues? You said earlier… what are they…?' He hoped Homelander would focus on what he asked rather than getting revenge on Stan Edgar.

Homelander thought of all the ways he was going to ruin that man when he got his hands on him. He sat back down in the chair as he faced the man he proudly called an uncle. "There's a woman…" He started as he saw her beautiful brown eyes, how they shone. The golden flecks lit up her eyes like stars when she stared at him. Oh God, he was so enthralled, and he doesn't know how soft her lips feel in the ways that matter, yet.

"God, she's stubborn. Honestly, a pain in the ass. A little bitch. She's beautiful… so fucking beautiful. And annoyingly independent. You know she walks at least 10 hours every day?" Homelander said suddenly.

Noir watched his eyes unthaw slowly; he could see the smile threatening to split Homelander's face. 'Ah, so, I take it, you like her?'

"I can't explain that. I'm not sure if it's an obsession or an infatuation. She saw me in the alley shaking down Charles Mesmer. I was going to kill him… cut my losses, but she was there…" Homelander said as he thought of her, wet in the alley, peering at him. "God, but her smile? I've seen it only a handful of times, probably 5. She has dimples… she's not scared of me. Well, maybe at first? I don't know… but she's just perfect, like, is this how you and dad felt when you found your… person?" He questioned as he leaned back in the chair.

Noir couldn't help but chuckle in his head as he watched Homelander speak about her. The younger man looked relaxed and at peace. He looked so much younger than he usually did; it's like all the stress of being who he was fell off his shoulders. 'Where'd you meet her?'

"At the Boy's Gentleman's club," Homelander said as he thought about her in her cut-up shirts behind the bar, her soft smile beneath the dimmed lights in there. "Yeah, the only downside is that I have to see William Butcher a lot more than usual. You think the guy would get over I accidentally almost killed his wife, right? She's the Marketing Director at Vought. I passed over some highly qualified people to hire her. Get over it, people almost die every day."

Noir stopped listening after he heard where Homelander met the girl. If he had control over the muscles in half his face, where it was damaged due to the acid he was tortured with, he'd have a symmetrical look of shock, then confusion. He quickly signed his worries, 'A stripper? Did you promise you'll change her life, too? I thought you were smarter than this?'

Homelander threw his head back as he chuckled. He pointed at Noir and clutched his stomach as he wheezed. He shook his head after a few moments, "No… she's not a stripper. She's the bartender, but that body… I mean, she's hot enough to be spinning around a pole. William has been trying to butt in; he thinks I'll corrupt her, but you know…" He checked his watch and whistled at how late it was.

"Uh, Uncle Noir, you know I have multiple residences, but I have a penthouse… if you'd like to stop by." He stood up and shifted on his feet, "I mean, I miss talking to you, I suppose. We were all close before Dad got... arrested. I know I probably remind you of him, but even if it's for you to get out of here sometimes." He offered with a shrug.

Noir stood up and cupped the back of Homelander's neck. He pulled his head down to his shoulder, which was awkward due to Homelander being a tad bit taller than him. His throat worked as he hoarsely spoke, his words coming out raw, "L…ove… t…o." Noir managed to say.

Homelander didn't lift his head; he squeezed his eyes shut as he gripped Noir's forearms. He let himself be held for a few seconds longer before he straightened up. He nodded with a smile, looked over at a particular picture, and grinned. He was a toddler with a frown on his face, while EJ was bundled up in a baby blanket, crying in the image.

Homelander walked to the picture on the wall and plucked the frame off its nail. He laughed as he looked at his deep-set frown, even at that young age. His smile faded when he realized he wasn't that same little boy. That little boy grew up to watch his mother die, to watch his father turn cold against everyone, to watch him get arrested and pulled from their home, and to follow in his exact footsteps.

He took a deep breath and placed it back on the nail before glancing back at Noir, "I uh, I'll see you later, Uncle Noir."

The older man waved at him and raised his hand to sign, 'Head on a swivel. Be safe. If loyalty ever falters, you know where to find me. Noirs and Homelanders are family.'

Homelander left the office, passing the teenager who rolled her eyes at him before returning to typing on her phone. Once he climbed into the older Impala, he checked the time and realized the club would be opening soon. He handled a lot of business today; he should end it on a good note.

Chapter Text

Annie couldn't believe she had sent him the text, let alone that he responded almost immediately; it felt good. But she couldn't think about that too much, not primarily with the way Hughie and Alex had the weirdest conversation before they left her apartment.

Alex implied she had too many men coming around all of a sudden.

That caused Annie to blow up at him because, firstly, they're neighbors, and secondly, he should mind his own business. If she wanted to have men on a revolving door to her apartment, she would. But then Alex mumbled something about her, and her side piece could be killed by tomorrow if she didn't watch out.

Annie didn't know what that was about, but she'd figured he had seen Homelander again before he left. She could only imagine what that man had said to her neighbor, given how he completely ignored and avoided her as they left their apartments at the same time, until the incident with Hughie.

Annie wiped down the sticky bar top as her tank top strap slipped down her shoulder. She heard a whistle and looked back to see Kimiko wiggling her eyebrows at her playfully. She stuck her tongue out at the mute girl. "Shut up, you got customers." She said, rolling her eyes. She stopped wiping to slip her strap back into place.

She glanced up as she thought about her phone briefly. Usually, at work, her phone was the last thing on her mind, but since she had Homelander's number in there, she found herself wanting to check it more often.

Annie shook her head as she tried to focus on the customers in front of her. She focused on thinning the crowd before she noticed eyes on her. It wasn't the same man who had asked for information on Homelander, but she was wary this time. He was sitting at the end of the bar near Kimiko with a glass sitting in front of him, untouched.

She flickered her eyes over to him occasionally as she filled orders and closed tabs, just to make sure she wasn't surprised again. If something happened tonight after she accepted Homelander's terms and let Hughie drop her off, she'd claim it as a setup. That Homelander was doing everything to drive her into his arms.

Now that she thought of it, maybe Alex's weirdness came from Homelander. Did he see him again before he left her apartment? Was Alex still upset when Homelander walked her to her apartment initially? There were questions she couldn't answer.

Annie slowly worked through her shift, watching new people enter the club. She recognized two men out of the group, Kevin and Reggie, whom she had actually met before Homelander, and Butcher had warned her not to get friendly with them because they worked for Homelander. She wondered if their presence meant he would be here too.

The third person they were with was not who Annie was looking for; he talked to MM just as the other two did, but he wasn't the glacier-eyed man that she was looking for. She must've audibly voiced her disappointment because Kimiko glanced over at her with raised eyebrows. She shook her head and went about wiping down the rim of one of the glasses.

The night was hurrying along, and she was actually disappointed that she might not see Homelander. She knew they had spent some time together earlier in the day, but he always tried to come in and bother her at the bar. At least Butcher hasn't been trying to start arguments with him lately.

Before she even got settled behind the bar, Butcher raved about a peace offering that Homelander gave him. Apparently, it was an extremely expensive bottle of whiskey. Annie huffed as she stretched. She could feel the hair on her arms start to stand, and she glanced around, looking for any eyes that seemed glued to her.

The culprit was right in front of her, and she didn't realize it.

Homelander had walked in with a crowd of people, but since he hadn't changed, he looked less intimidating. He still wore his plain t-shirt with a baseball cap pulled down over his golden hair. A few rebellious strands fell over his forehead. As he leaned against the bar, it took Annie a few minutes to recognize him.

He leaned on his forearms on the bar while Annie served others, skipping over him. He raised his eyebrow as his lips pulled into a smirk. He thought it was surprising she hadn't recognized him yet, but then again, he was missing his usual suits.

Annie kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Between the man at the end of the bar and the newcomer in front of her, she was a little stressed out. She tried to ignore them as she filled her orders, but every time she glanced in his direction, he was watching her.

As she finished getting the last man in front of him, she turned to him, "Can I get your order?" She asked blandly.

Homelander lifted his head so he could stare at her from under the brim of his cap. Their eyes met, and he watched her brown eyes widen. He said nothing as his lips pulled into his usually cocky grin.

Annie, on the other hand, felt like she was suffocating. He looked different but in a good way. He was dressed down like a regular person, and he blended into the crowd beautifully. She wasn't shy in her assessment of him; she had only seen him in suits or business casual looks. A simple shirt and jeans were like a shock to her system, honestly.

Her eyes zeroed in on his exposed forearms and hands. She knew his hands were nice; they felt good on her when he had any excuse to grab her. She remembered her hand in his or his hands cupping her face, or neck, or rubbing parts of her face. Her eyes shyly found his chest, the shirt fit a little snug, and she wondered what he looked like beneath it. As she stared, she realized how hot her cheeks were growing.

When she met his eyes, she glanced away to keep him from staring into them, "J-John, I didn't expect you to come… we uh, just saw each other earlier this morning." She mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Homelander wondered where all her stubbornness had disappeared to; he chalked it up to her brain short-circuiting because he was dressed down. He watched her lick her lips, her eyes shifting from him to the bartop multiple times. He subtly stretched his hands out on the bar, his index finger barely tracing the back of her hand. "Well, I wouldn't say we saw each other this morning. I was off on my charity run, and you were visiting your mother, and I happened to tag along before dropping you off. If we saw each other, we'd be waking up in the same bed." He muttered to her.

Annie tried to clear her throat as she moved her hand from his fingers' gentle tracing. She coughed again, trying to dampen her cheeks, "So… um, what did you want then? I-I can make you a drink or something…?"

Homelander was going to get his usual, but he wanted to toy with her a little more. He slid into the booth across from her, "Did you truly get a ride from whoever this Hughie guy is? If I ask, he'd say he picked you up and you didn't walk an hour to get here?" He asked as she put both elbows on the bar.

"Um, yeah? Do you think I'm lying? Can't you sense that with your weird staring?" Annie said as she crossed her arms. "Do you not trust me?" She teased.

"I don't know if I can trust you if you lie. But I'll say you know better than to lie to me." He answered with a smirk, "Now, go on and tell me whether you trust me."

Annie stared at him silently for a few seconds. She couldn't say she did, and she didn't. She could trust that he wouldn't kill her, but she couldn't trust that he wouldn't put her in harm's way. She had more eyes on her watching her than she had prior, and she couldn't help but say it was his fault. He was the self-proclaimed God of New York, which meant he had enemies.

"I… I don't know yet." She answered, honestly, with a shrug.

Homelander said nothing, his lips only stretched into his fangy grin. He looked over her for a few minutes before clearing his throat, "Double shot of whiskey. Drink with me, Annie." He said as he leaned closer to her over the bartop.

Annie's hand had instinctively reached for the house liquor, but then she remembered who she was serving and went to the top shelf. She grabbed two glasses, filled one with his double, added ice, and then poured her glass. She slid him his glass while putting the bottle back. "I uh… I never said it earlier, but thank you… even if we did yell at each other in the car, thank you for dropping me off."

Homelander nodded as he brought his glass up to clink against hers before he drank a mouthful. He swirled the remnants in his glass before nodding, "It's not a problem. I enjoyed it, even if you were being stubborn."

"I was not being stubborn. I'm sorry if I couldn't get right with the idea of a… murderer driving me home and then being jealous of my next-door neighbor, and now he's acting weird." Annie whispered lowly as she raised her glass to have a sip. She cringed at the burning taste in her mouth.

"Murder is subjective. You didn't see me murder anyone; you're taking into account my past transgressions. I've actually been on my best behavior since meeting you…" Homelander said with a cocky smirk, "Listening to what other people say has a bad effect on your thinking, you know?"

Annie frowned at him and couldn't help but roll her eyes, "So you tell me not to trust everyone, but you want me to trust you?" She asked, "How does that make sense?"

"Well, people say anything to tarnish a man's reputation. I happen to be offering you a safe haven of knowledge. Why would I have to lie or deceive people? There's not enough time in the day to make me care about other people enough." Homelander said as he shrugged.

Annie hummed as she took another baby sip of her drink. She was nursing it. She didn't like the taste at all and was suffering with each swallow. "Oh, so, you don't care about me then?"

Homelander smirked at her as she responded a little poutily. He shook his head before draining the rest of his glass. He reached for hers, knowing she wasn't going to finish. "Now, you're putting words in my mouth."

"So, are you going to answer me then?" Annie asked as she crossed her arms. She watched him drink from her glass, and it was odd because it felt like their lips touched, even though they didn't. She wondered what he'd be like to kiss; he's kissed her forehead a few times, but they've gotten close to actual kissing, too.

"Would you even believe me if I said I do? After all, you think I'm some type of murderer." Homelander shot back. He looked at her and couldn't believe how bad he wanted her. He was honest to a handful of people, and that barely contained his lackeys.

He whispered as he leaned in closer to her, "Yes." That was his answer; she could take it or leave it. He was not about to explain or expand upon it. He lifted her glass to finish that one as well.

Annie stared into his eyes as she tried to come up with a response. All she could do was open and close her mouth like a fish gasping for air. She blinked in surprise as she leaned in, "I uh… yes? Like you do?"

Homelander couldn't help but enjoy her deer-in-the-headlights look. She was one of the first women he felt comfortable opening up to and letting in. He wanted someone he could relax around; he felt as if he had been on edge since he stepped into this role. He just wanted someone to rub his hair while he lay in their lap like his mother used to do.

But the thought scared him.

What if he wasn't good enough? Sure, he said he wasn't a murderer, but honestly, some people didn't have to die. And he just felt like it was easier than crossing into their paths again by killing them and there.

Homelander stared at her blankly as a grin stretched across his face; it was his stupid, fangy one. Annie looked soft, he knew her face was, but he wondered how soft her body was. He still wanted to kiss her and touch her and hold and grab, hell, he wanted to do everything. And it was scary.

"So, you care about me?" Annie asked as she ducked her head and whispered to him. Her cheeks were still flushing red as she asked him. She leaned in closer, and Kimiko blocked their view of Butcher, who was walking past to go to his office.

Homelander stared at her lips as he licked his, "What do I get if I'm honest? I feel like you're learning more about me than I am about you." He whispered back. He shifted closer, planting his elbow on the bartop and holding his jaw in his hand, "Tell me something… what did you do before moving here? What did you imagine you'd be doing if your mother weren't in her condition?"

Annie hummed as she thought about it. What did she want to do? She was getting a simple communications degree just to say she went to college. Her mother made her love the limelight; she was featured in some magazines as a kid. She thought she could model because she was skinny and tall enough for front covers, if given the chance.

She could sing somewhat.

Donna January wasn't exactly a slave driver, but she had Annie learn a lot of different instruments. She remembered singing and dancing to "Hit Me One More Time" by Britney Spears. If she remembers accurately, she thinks that's when she became a grand slam pageant winner.

She also wanted to be a mother. Her eyes suddenly widened, and her face turned redder than it was. Why did she think about that thought while staring at him, in his intense, dreamy, icy, glacier-like eyes?

Annie cleared her throat and straightened up, "It doesn't matter. I can't think of what ifs." She grabbed the glasses from in front of him to rinse them out in the sink. "I would keep talking to you, but this is my job, and Butcher has been glaring at me for a few minutes now." She said as she ran the tap behind the bar. "You can stay at the bar… if you want, though."

Annie shyly peeked at him to see if he was still at the bar. She locked eyes with Kimiko and inclined her head toward the kitchen. They may have Frenchie step in because now she needed to talk to someone. Now.

She had to admit, maybe he was wearing her down. Perhaps she did think he was cute, even if he was scary and like a murderer or something. But his eyes were so cold, but they warmed up when they looked at her. Or how gentle he was when he touched and held her, knowing those same hands probably did worse to others.

Annie blinked to herself; she was supposed to be working, but his presence was getting her distracted. She huffed, and her breath blew her hair from her face. As she tried to work through, she felt his eyes on her.

Suddenly, she stiffened as she realized Homelander switched stools. He was in the corner watching her, and that meant his stool was open. The man from before with the silver tooth walked toward her. All the happy-go-lucky thoughts she had disappeared immediately.

Immediately, a new set of eyes focused on her, but they were ones she was used to. Homelander's eyes narrowed from beneath the brim of his cap while Annie moved toward the man, "Uh, can I… uh… get you something?" She asked nervously.

The man stared at her, his silver tooth glinting under the lights. "The same as last week, sweetheart… if you get me what I need, I promise you'll have protection." He said as he leaned closer to the bar.

Annie could feel Homelander behind her for sure now. "Like I told you last time, we don't do that. I don't know who you're talking about, unfortunately." She answered, feeling more confident and protected, knowing she had a guard dog behind her watching her every move. She was genuinely surprised that Homelander had gone unnoticed by the man with the silver tooth.

"Sweetheart, I know for certain he doesn't come here for the… atmosphere. We've had men watching, and they all come back to tell me about you. So, you have to know something about our mutual friend." He said, leaning on the bar.

Homelander watched closely, recalling the last time he had caused a scene here. Butcher and he almost came to blows, which would've started a different war than the one that's building up now. Butcher was sadly intertwined with everyone, so it wouldn't be just his employees trying to get a crack at him, but many people belonging to various professions trying to bleed him dry.

He kept that in his mind while he tried to calm himself.

Annie furrowed her eyebrows, "I'm sure they tell you about me. If you want a drink, I'm the face you see. I don't do much but do my job." She said, her eyes fixed on him. Between both men, she felt like she might spontaneously combust. The silver tooth man was staring through her, and Homelander was glaring through her at him.

"So, you mean to tell me, John Homelander, comes in. Sits down. Buys a drink or two, then leaves? You don't know him?" The man questioned as Annie crossed her arms.

"I have no clue who John Homelander is. I only work here. I don't ask names and I don't remember faces." Annie answered back shortly, continuing to stand her ground. She hoped the man wouldn't try anything, sensing the tension in the air. At least she'd find out if Homelander cared about her.

The man's nostrils flared as he cut his eyes across the club. He nodded before turning back to her. "That's unfortunate. But it appears that you made your side well known, sweetheart. It's a shame you're as stupid as you are because you have such a pretty face." He sneered before he squeezed through the crowd and left. Several other men followed behind him.

Annie groaned as she leaned back against the back shelf. Homelander was immediately on his feet and reached over to grab her bicep to tug her closer to him. She winced at his grip and frowned, "Ow! What?" She questioned.

"That's him. He's the reason Marvin Milk left those handprints on your arm? That's the guy?" Homelander questioned as his fingers tightened around her.

Annie snatched her bicep free from his grasp, "Yes. I told you about him when you yelled at me in the hospital. And if you don't stop grabbing me like that, you'll leave bruises next." She complained as she rubbed her arm. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Well, of course, I won't tell you. That'll make you an accomplice if I decide to take action. But he came in here twice to speak to you about me. If he keeps asking, he won't be happy with who shows up." Homelander said as his eyebrows furrowed. He reached out and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close again. He let himself calm down briefly as his thumb dug into her muscles there.

"You do know I will not let you go home tonight," Homelander said as he stared down at her. "Not while men are asking questions about you just to find out about me."

Annie relaxed into his massaging hand, but she scowled and reached up to knock his cap off his head. "Where am I going then? I'm not going with you. If you want to be a guard dog, come back with me to my apartment, then."

Homelander scowled as he picked his hat up to shove it back onto his head. He let go of her neck to tilt her head back, "So, they can level your whole apartment building to rubble because they know I will be there? There's no logic in saving civilians; if you have to take a few casualties for the person, you do it." He said honestly and glared at her, "You are going to come home with me. Got it?"

Annie shoved his hand from under her chin, "No! Has this been your plan all along, or was it something else? I have a job and an apartment—"

"Your apartment is empty! Remember, I was there. We can stop by and grab the shit you need, but you're not staying there. Who's going to protect you?" Homelander cut her off before trying to explain himself. Obviously, it was falling on deaf ears because Annie was stubborn and more than the usual endearing amount he enjoyed. "It's not like you have relationships with people. No one knows your schedule aside from me. So, you're my responsibility."

"What? No. It doesn't work like that. You can't just threaten or trick me into doing things you want me to do. Why don't you ask me? I'm tired of you trying to order me around because you're supposed to be this scary guy." Annie huffed as she complained, "And, you're just doing this to kidnap me… you're acting like Alex wouldn't be able to help me."

"I don't want to hear his fucking name again. And it's not me kidnapping you." Homelander scowled as he glanced around. He locked eyes with MM from across the club and inclined his head, gesturing toward Butcher's office. He grabbed her bicep again and urged her over the bartop toward him. "I'm not going to let you stay here for that fucker to come back a third time. What if he decides to kidnap you instead? He'll know I'll try to find you, and now we're both dead because you're being stubborn."

Annie winced as she was forced up and over the bartop to him. She looked over her shoulder and yelled at Kimiko, "Close my tabs! Get my tips!" She struggled and tried to pull herself free as he manhandled her to Butcher's office. She tried to dig her heels into the ground, but that only made it worse.

Homelander picked her up and lifted her over his shoulder. His arm was around her waist, and he couldn't help but be tempted to steady her by holding onto her ass. His pinky played with the frayed edges of her shorts as he walked toward the office.

Annie thrashed, kicking her legs and punching his back while she struggled in his grasp. Suddenly, everything was upright again, but she landed with a grunt. He tossed her onto the chair across from Butcher's desk.

Butcher stared at both of them as he was in mid-smoke of his cigar. He raised his eyebrows, "Oi. Blondie… what part of stay away do you not understand?" He questioned while staring at Homelander.

Homelander crossed his arms as he stood behind Annie, "William, your bartender doesn't understand that it is far too dangerous for her to go back to her apartment when men are looking for me, but questioning her. Is that not a problem?" He asked as he looked down at Annie's frowning face.

Butcher almost dropped his cigar as he sat up in the chair. "In my club, you're being questioned? Why didn't you tell me? What happened? What's going on?"

Annie glared at him, but said nothing. She pretended Homelander wasn't even in the office with them, until she felt both his hands on her shoulders and his breath in her ear as he whispered, "Go on, tell William what he looks like." He said before straightening up and patting her shoulders.

Butcher took a drag from his cigar and raised his eyebrows, "You're getting comfortable with her, yeah? I said not to…" He reminded Homelander as he ashed his cigar, "But Annie, go on, yeah. Tell me what happened."

Annie waved the draft of smoke from coming to her face as she glared at Butcher. "Well, Boss, some guy came in and offered me a hundred for information on John. I told him earlier this morning, and he yelled at me… now he's doing the same thing because the same guy came back." She said before turning to look over her shoulder at Homelander, "Now, he wants me to go to his place because he believes that I could be followed and I'm too oblivious to notice."

Homelander rolled his eyes at her, "I didn't say you were oblivious. But you get it, William? She's acting like she wouldn't be safe with me… I'm the safest person she could be with."

Butcher gestured with his cigar, making a pointing motion at him. "Love, I…I hate to agree. But you are safer with the devil you know rather than floundering about looking for the next, yeah?"

Annie felt like she was talking to brick walls. Obviously, he could've been safer, but a murderer being a safe haven more than anyone else sounded ridiculous. She shook her head, "No. If I were to uproot my schedule, when could I get back to it? How am I supposed to work? See my mother? And wouldn't it be even more suspicious if suddenly I'm at his place? So, that means I mean something to him, right?" She said, hoping her explanation would make sense. She had no hope because Homelander and Butcher barely glanced at her; they were having their own silent conversation.

"Hello? I'm right here? No need to talk with your eyes!" Annie shouted, trying to get their attention.

Homelander raised his eyebrows at Butcher and tilted his head at the door before glancing down at her. Butcher pressed his lips into a thin line as his eyes briefly found Annie's pouting form; he didn't want to kick her out of the office. She was right; this was her life, but, regrettably, it was their lives.

Butcher hated Homelander's guts for almost killing his wife in crossfire, but the man, as psychotic as he was, had apologized and made things right in his own way. He had to feel strongly about saving Annie, but he is going about it terribly wrong. He took another drag from his cigar and shifted in his chair.

"Fucking Hell. Annie, this is serious. No need to get your knickers twisted. Blondie here… he's not a good man. I said he's a murderer and a cutthroat, but never to blokes like you and me. Even monsters play by the rules sometimes… it might be best if you lay low or something." Butcher said he was preparing himself for her to yell, whine, pout, and cry. Maybe she might punch him or Homelander in the face.

Annie chewed on both her lips as she looked between them. She felt like she had a better chance at pulling away rather than being pulled into whatever they had happening. Why get raveled up in the first place?

Homelander huffed from his spot behind her as he looked around the messy office. He looked at Annie, "I am a monster… yes. William is right about me not being a good man either, but a murderer is not right. I've killed people, but it was only reactionary. I'm not going around and killing people. It's a difference." He said with his usual fangy smile.

Annie glared at his smile. She liked it. It was crooked and a little cocky and made butterflies flutter low in her stomach, but now was not the time for that. "If I go with you, what about money? Work? My mother needs the little tips I get in the first place. What about my friends? Who's helping Kimiko?" She argued back to Butcher and Homelander.

"You can have more than that. Oh my God, you just complain, don't you, Annie? I am trying to help you, save you. Do you know how dangerous some of these men are?" Homelander started before frowning, "Not as dangerous as me, of course… but pretty close. What do you want me to do? Because it seems like you don't trust me, even though we've been alone countless times and I never did anything to you."

"John, it is not about that. This is my life. I mean, it sucks sometimes, but these are the cards I've been dealt, and I'd like to play my hand instead of having some high roller come in, toss my cards, and offer me chips I've never had access to before." Annie said, shrugging at him. Butcher and Homelander glanced at her before each other. They either didn't get her casino reference or, having understood it, didn't find it as clever as she did.

Annie didn't care; she was going to save that for later. That was off the top of her head, and she felt like it matched the situation perfectly. She stood up and adjusted her tank top and shorts before looking between them, "So, I just wanted to go on record to say I'm fine. Hughie will just pick me up and drop me off until further notice."

Butcher watched Homelander shift between her and the door as he spoke, "Love, look, this ain't that small town you've come from. If you're targeted, you're in danger. There's no… loyalty among these types unless you're a part of them. Blondie here has quite a reputation, but no one knows what makes him tick. If there's a chance you're what makes him weak, they'll take you out just to see him hurt. It doesn't have to be true or not." He said as he took another puff from his cigar, "You're gonna have to make a choice here. If you can't go with Blondie, I can't have you working here. I've seen too many good people die already, I'm not about to see you do it in my club."

Annie's eyes widened as she stared at him. It took a few seconds for her mind to register what Butcher was asking her to do. Her eyes immediately began to water, "No way… no freaking way! You're gonna make me stay with him to keep my job. The one I got before I met him! You… so you two can bully me and get away with it? That's all you want, huh?" She turned around to Homelander and shoved him in the chest. He barely moved, but let her attack him while she held back tears.

Homelander enjoyed the fight in her eyes, even through her tears. She was strong and stubborn, qualities he found appealing. She knew he could kill her, but didn't care as she pummeled his chest with her fists. He gently grabbed her wrists, pulling them into one of his hands while he looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest.

Annie sniffled and cried, but it was muffled. Her body shook as she tried to get the rest of her tears out. "I hate you so much." She said, mumbling against his chest.

"Jesus fucking Christ. I'm not bullying to do anything. You're being stubborn and doing it yourself. What do you want me to do?" Homelander mumbled as he dropped his head toward hers. He sighed, "I don't like the thought of people being in my home. In the place I may be the most comfortable, yet I'm inviting you there. Have you ever considered that?"

Butcher watched them and shook his head, seeing their interactions. He felt like he was seeing Becca cave into his affections when she knew he was right. He smirked as he filed that thought away. He wasn't about to mock Homelander in front of Annie; she'd turn into a feral cat. When they were alone, he was going to let loose.

Homelander kissed her hairline and her forehead and muttered against her skin, "I am only trying to keep you safe. I promise… I don't make promises much. I won't bully you into anything."

Annie could feel her tears drying up. She huffed and leaned into him, hating that she enjoyed being comforted. She hated that she liked it when it came from him. She hated that a small part of her was glad someone was trying to take care of her, just as she had done for her mother. "I… I don't hate you… but I don't like this…" She muttered into the wet cotton of his shirt.

Homelander leaned back and flashed his trademark grin. She rolled her eyes as he looked down at her and helped gently wipe her face, "Look, you're not going to be like that fucking princess that was locked in a tower… you'll have freedoms. You'll be able to do the regular shit you've done, at the end of the day, you'll be coming to my home instead of yours…" His thumb swiped under her eyes as he let go of her wrists, "So, can we agree? I'll find whoever is so interested in me and take care of them so you can go back to that place you call home."

Annie hated that she leaned into his touch, mimicking what he had done to her back in her apartment. She brushed their noses against each other, and he leaned in to nuzzle her cheek. "Fine… I guess. I have work." She muttered and pulled away. She brushed past him to leave Butcher's office.

Homelander watched her go, his jaw tightening. He turned back to see Butcher grinning at him widely, "Don't you start, William."

Butcher only grinned wider, "Oi, she's got you by the bollocks. John Homelander is about to have them stashed in his missus' purse soon enough, yeah?" He chuckled as he watched Homelander groan and collapse in the chair that Annie vacated.

"Fuck it, you have jokes… let me hear them." Homelander sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Butcher ashed his cigar, stubbing it out as he leaned forward in his chair. "I've got a few… I'm going to enjoy this one, Blondie." He cracked his knuckles and settled in his chair. "Since your pops went under, you've been trying to be the boss, and you've accomplished that. Round of claps, yeah. Everyone can't hold you down, control you, and all that, yet my little barmaid has the tightest grip on you. Sooner than later, mate, she'll tell you to walk away, and you'll be handing her a collar and leash while doing it."

Butcher couldn't help but laugh at the image in his head. "Mate, Becca is gonna have a giraffe about this." He laughed as he rooted around for the bottle he stole from Homelander earlier. "A drink to celebrate becoming a lap dog like most blokes I know. So, you two have had a shag yet? That's why you're so whipped, huh?"

Homelander stared at him, and his face tightened. They haven't, but it's not like he hasn't thought about it. Would she even let him touch her that way? Would she feel pressured now since she was in his home? Did he fuck up his chances? "No." Came from his lips, he didn't explain or expand on his answer. It was a flat 'no' and nothing more. He had already answered that and wasn't interested in repeating himself.

"Wait… then how is this going to work, Blondie? You can't possibly be sharing the same bed without any… thoughts?" Butcher questioned as he unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured a healthy amount into two clean glasses he found stashed on his bookshelf behind him.

Homelander grabbed a glass and took a sip as the liquor comfortably burned down his throat. He held it and swirled the amber liquid in the glass as he thought about the question. He knew she wasn't sleeping in the same bed as him, so he'd give her his room, as it was gentlemanly to do. At least it wouldn't be the guest rooms, he frowned at the thought of it.

"She'll be in my room. I could take the couch, or in my office, or something." Homelander said while taking another sip from his glass. "Maybe she should stay in her apartment, hmm? This will be all messy."

Butcher scoffed as he took a swig with a grimace. He held his glass up to stare, "Hmm, good shite. But Blondie, it's too late now. You turn tail, and she'll think you were underestimating this whole danger spiel. And don't you have guest rooms? Prop her up in one of those."

Homelander cringed at that. He shook his head, "I've… other women have been in those. I can't imagine her sharing sheets with them…" He said quietly as he sipped from his glass. "I still can't believe you stole my bottle from me." He tried to change the subject to avoid oversharing with the other man.

"Ah, come on? We're mates, yeah? Sometimes… and the bottle, you were already pissy earlier, no need to bring it back up." Butcher said as he waved his hand at him, "But your sleeping arrangements are far more interesting over this bottle I nicked. So, the guest room is off limits because you've shagged others there, but she isn't one? So, what I'm understanding is that you're absolutely whipped. You're just a lapdog, and she hasn't laid a finger on you. Wait until her cunt's wrapped around you, mate."

Homelander watched Butcher laugh as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Oh fuck you. I could've killed you a while ago, you know. Fuck this." He moved to get up, but Butcher held his hands out.

"Wait! I have something important to ask you." Butcher said as he stood up, Homelander finished the rest of his glass and set it down before raising his eyebrows in question. He looked at the blonde with a wiry grin, "The bird's got you henpecked… what purse is she keeping your knob and bollocks in?" He could barely finish his question without letting out a wheezing chuckle.

Homelander stood there with a deep-set scowl on his face. His hands rested on his hips as he watched Butcher clutch his stomach. The bearded Brit had tears stinging his eyes as he fell backward on his chair, laughing even harder when he saw Homelander's face.

“I…you…she…” Butcher could barely finish his sentence; it was broken up through wheezes and coughs.

Homelander wanted to pick Butcher up by his ugly Hawaiian shirt and throttle him, but he instead waved him off. "Fuck you, mate." He said, mocking the other man's accent. He shook his head as he left the office, but Butcher's laughter followed him as he slammed the door shut to find Annie.

Chapter Text

Once Annie left the office, she immediately went back to the bar to complain to Kimiko while they were finishing their shifts. They were swamped with last-minute customers, which led to an insanely profitable rush. But they could barely talk with the number of people surrounding the bar.

They communicated through eye contact and various sounds. Kimiko tilted her head as her eyes widened at some of Annie's more over-dramatic sighs. When they caught a quick break, Annie quickly mumbled to her, "And the worst part is, they think moving in with him would protect me? Like, where does that make sense?"

Kimiko set a frothy beer in front of a customer before signing, 'Moving in? Are you two even dating? Kissing? Sex?'

"No! Like, isn't that weird? Is it just me?" Annie said as she popped the cap of a bottle and slid it to her customer. "And like Butcher thinks it's a good idea because I could be targeted, but who remembers a bartender, seriously?"

Kimiko tilted her head as she looked up to see Homelander leaving Butcher's office with a scowl. She shrugged before signing, 'He's cute… why don't you try and have fun. And everyone remembers a bartender, especially ones as cute as us.'

Annie glanced over her shoulder to see a pissed Homelander approaching. She had known there was some tension, but she let him hug, touch, and kiss her, and sometimes she wanted more. Probably an actual kiss on the lips. But she wasn't sure she wanted to give him the satisfaction, given that he was bullying her into this weird living arrangement. "I get it, Kimiko, like really, but I can't for the life of me enjoy this. What about my life? My job? I feel like I'm being forced into this, you know?"

Kimiko watched as Homelander pushed past a customer behind Annie. He leaned on the bar with his forearms as he laced his hands. She signed to Annie, 'Your boyfriend is glaring at you.'

Annie scowled at her friend and muttered, "He's not my boyfriend."

Behind her back, Homelander stared at Annie before glancing at Kimiko. He unlaced his hands to slowly sign back toward her, 'She's wrong.' He finished with a wink.

Kimiko couldn't help but laugh as Annie rolled her eyes and turned to Homelander. She sighed, "What do you want, John?"

A customer mumbled in irritation about Homelander cutting in line. All he did was glance back and shut the mumbling down with one look. He felt his lip curl before he turned to Annie, "When are you leaving? Don't you get off soon? I have a schedule of some sort…" He said while staring at her, he could see how annoyed she looked.

"Are you seriously trying to rush me now? Be serious, John. Did I not say I needed money?" Annie said in disbelief, she had to laugh at how absurd he was being. She leaned in to whisper, "You're holding up the line. That's going to extend my time being back here."

Homelander looked at the growing crowd behind him with a quick glance over his shoulder, and he turned back to her, not before witnessing the ever-increasing scowls on the men's faces. "I can give you money if it's that important."

"What? No…” Annie said as she called a man up to get his order before glaring at Homelander, "So, what, I'll be a kept woman? What happens when you get mad and stop giving me money? Then now I'm trapped and broke." She argued as she handed the customer his beer and grabbed his cash.

Homelander dropped his head and sighed loudly before looking up at her, "Who hurt you, Annie? Jesus fucking Christ…" His eyes settled back on her, "What would I have to gain by doing that?" He hated that every time they had a conversation around other people, she was a feral cat and fought with him tooth and nail, arguing like their lives depended on it. But when they were alone, they'd argue even more and somewhat make out or make up.

It was better than whatever this was, even if it was bipolar of them.

All he wanted to do was try to be a good guy once in his life. He met her mother, who is slowly withering away on dialysis, and he couldn't imagine coming back to see that woman's face and tell her that her possibly only child is dead.

"Annie…" Homelander started, but shook his head, "Go. Finish." He muttered as he moved from the bar.

Annie watched him sit in a chair. He immediately leaned back and covered his face with his hands. She shook her head before turning back to the customers. She chatted while pouring drinks and closing tabs. She took a break to wipe up the sticky counter and glanced over at Homelander. He was watching her with his cheek cushioned against his fist. His eyes looked bored as they flickered over her.

Annie glanced away from him, then glanced at him in her peripheral vision. She slowly gathered her hair up and tied it into a messy bun. She stretched and rolled her shoulders as she and Kimiko worked together to knock out the remaining customers. She sighed as she started to count up her receipts that she'd have to go over to him.

She glared as she counted up her cash before going to close out the tickets. Her tips were a couple of hundred less than what she'd usually pocket, and she glanced over at Homelander, blaming him immediately. If she hadn't been pulled halfway through her shift into Butcher's office, she would've had more.

Annie finished closing and setting the drawers as she watched everyone finish up and gear up to leave. She finally approached him, and he looked relaxed with his eyes shut as his cheek was still pillowed on his fist. He looked exhausted, but with his eyes closed, he looked calm and younger. He looked like he didn't have to run the city.

She leaned down and reached out, her hand inches from the strand of hair over his face. Just as she was about to swipe it away, she felt her wrist trapped in his grasp and winced. "Ow." She frowned at him.

Homelander opened his weary eyes before releasing her wrist, "What were you trying to do?" He questioned, yawning and stretching, his white shirt rising up his stomach a little, and it drew her eyes.

Annie rubbed her wrist while glaring, "I was going to help fix your hair. You don't need to be so paranoid." She huffed before looking around uncomfortably, "Um, I'm ready when you are… I guess."

Homelander looked at her and around. There weren't many of her coworkers around. He reached out and grabbed her wrist again. He felt her pull against him, but he tugged her to him; she stood between his legs as he wrapped both his arms around her waist.

Annie stiffened when he pressed his head against her stomach. She froze and lifted her hands to push him off, but her fingers ran through his hair instead. It was odd that she felt comfortable being domestic in this way. She thought he mumbled against her skin, "Huh?" She asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Homelander sighed as he turned his face, pressing his forehead against the skin of her stomach. He felt her muscles tighten beneath him, "I said… I have to be paranoid in my line of work." He slowly unraveled himself from her, but she didn't realize. He let out another relaxing sigh as her fingers ran through his hair, scraping his scalp on the way.

Annie hummed as she shuffled her feet, moving closer to him, "So, you're paranoid because you did this to yourself? Hmm, so you're experiencing the consequences of your actions?" She asked playfully.

"You're so fucking bipolar toward me. I think if my actions led me to getting my chain yanked around by you, I did a damn good job, hmm?" Homelander asked as he pushed his head into her hands like a housecat.

Annie rolled her eyes as she leaned down to deepen the massage of his scalp, which brought her too close to him. Homelander's lids were heavily lidded as he leaned in, eyes zeroed in on her lips. She turned her head at the last minute and felt him kiss her cheek. "Yeah, no. None of that, John."

Homelander sighed as he smirked. He usually didn't have to work this hard for a touch or anything from a woman. She had him in the palm of her hand, and he liked it, regretfully. He felt like he was deserving of a kiss or a brush of a hand down his pants; he's never gone this long in a drought. He felt as if she brushed a hand against his waistline; he'd finish in his pants like a teenager.

"Oh, so you gave me head scratches as an apology for being an absolute bitch earlier? And not because you were setting the mood? Got it. Bipolar Queen, I keep forgetting." He teased as he stood up and looked down at her, "Let's go to that barren hovel you call an apartment. I'd rather not be out too long; people may notice."

Annie's nose scrunched as her hands fell away from his, now messy, blonde hair. She hated that he had seen what her living arrangement was like at all. He'd be able to hold that over her head. She didn't like the feeling of going to her apartment and packing up a few outfits, but since there was nothing there, she felt like she was packing up the rest of her life.

She frowned as she raced to the locker room for her bookbag before finding Homelander at the back door with Butcher. She glared at both men before pointing in Homelander's direction, "Are we leaving now?"

Butcher grinned as Homelander immediately stopped posturing. He relaxed when he laid eyes on her, and it only fueled his jokes, "Ah, so Blondie is like a housebroken puppy. He went from hard to a bit smarmy, that one. You oughta tighten his leash, yeah?"

Both Annie and Homelander looked at him with similar faces, ones of confusion. Homelander held his finger up at Butcher before addressing Annie, "Yes, we are leaving and going to get whatever you think you need from your apartment." He turned to Butcher, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Butcher waved him off and urged them from his club; he was trying to lock up and leave, too. "On your bikes, come on." He rushed them out and turned into the club to do a final walk around.

Homelander looked at Annie as he held his hand out to her; it was an expectation that she would hold his hand now. She did so as he led her to his car. "Your Boss slurs and rarely speaks English at fucking times. How do any of you understand what he's saying half the time?"

Annie couldn't help the bad joke that slipped from her lips, "What do you mean he rarely speaks English? He is English." She said as she peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't get a chance to see his reaction because she was focused on the car in front of them; his SUV wasn't in sight. "Um. What is this? Where's your car?" Her hackles were raised as she squeezed his hand in hers.

"Annie, calm down. You already know what I do and how much I earn. Do you honestly believe I have one vehicle?" Homelander said with a slight attitude as he led her to the old school Impala. He opened the door on the passenger side and held it for her to climb in.

Annie rolled her eyes before she climbed in and immediately fastened her seatbelt. She put her book bag on the floor of his car, took off her Converse, and stretched her legs out. She glanced up to see him close the door after she got comfortable on the leather seat.

Homelander walked around the front of his car, pausing as he watched some cars pass them on the street. When he was certain the vehicles weren't turning around, he climbed into his side. He shifted and leaned forward, reaching behind him.

Annie's eyes widened as she watched him pull a shiny pistol from his waistband. She stared at the ivory handle as he moved with muscle memory and put his gun down in the passenger seat. Unfortunately, it wasn't empty, and he just put his hand between her thighs when he set his gun down.

Homelander realized what he had done as he turned to meet her eyes. The back of his hand had brushed the frayed edges of her shorts, and her face had brightened almost to a tomato color. He didn't even know how to apologize as they stared at each other. It's like everything in his body short-circuited once he met her eyes. He felt his cock give an interested twitch just because he brushed her.

Annie looked down briefly before clearing her throat, "Uh, oh… um… You have a gun aimed at my…" She took a shaky breath as her thighs threatened to close, but that means his hand will feel the skin of her inner thighs. "Is safety on… at least?" Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

Homelander glanced down at where his hand gripped his gun between her thighs, how easily he could abandon the ivory handle and trace his fingers down the seam of her shorts, tickle the frayed edges that circled her thighs. He cleared his own throat before pulling away and setting his gun on his own lap, before subtly adjusting his jeans and starting the engine.

Annie didn't know if she was relieved or not for his hand to withdraw the way it did; his wide hand, dragging up the insides of her thighs, was seared into her mind. She shifted uncomfortably and sat straight up in her chair. "Uhm… we're still going to my apartment?" She asked while not making eye contact.

Homelander didn't glance at her either. It was awkward in the car, at least to him. His jeans felt like they were three sizes too small due to an accidental blunder, a brush between her thighs. He was like a teenager who got into his father's porn stash.

Oh God, was it going to be Hell at his penthouse like this?

Would he go through several pairs of boxers daily?

Will he have to stay seated to avoid accidentally revealing himself?

What about the sleeping arrangements? Is he going to have to be covered from head to toe now? His home was the only place he could be unburdened.

Homelander's hands gripped the wheel; his shoulders were tense and drawn to his head. He could barely hear her voice calling his name as he focused on how this was going to affect his home life. "On… John… John… JOHN."

Homelander's head snapped over as he looked at her, "Huh? Did you call me?" He asked as he briefly glanced down at the gun in his lap, then at her. "What?" His eyes shifted from her to the traffic in front of them.

Annie looked at him with pursed lips; her cheeks were losing the pink look they had earlier. She smacked her lips loudly in the otherwise silent car, "D-did you remember where I lived, or do I have to put in directions…?" Her question died on her lips when she realized this car didn't have the screen in it. She stared at a radio. "Um… how old is this car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Homelander said shortly, almost like he was annoyed at her for asking him that.

Annie did not like his attitude; she crossed her arms and glared at his profile as he moved one hand from the wheel to rest on his thigh, tapping the muscle beneath his jeans. "Oh, I'm bipolar, but out of nowhere you have an attitude?"

Homelander was losing the battle in his mind. She had him wound around her finger like a ring. The worst part was that she didn't know it. She was oblivious to his behavior because she couldn't see the cues. God, he hadn't touched or been touched for a while; maybe he was too hasty in barring Klara from trying to touch him.

Upon thinking of Klara, the twitching between his thighs immediately stopped. Homelander glanced down and raised his eyebrows. At least his body knew he wanted the bartender in the seat next to him, who had her arms crossed and pushing her breasts further up, and just as quickly as his cock lost interest, it twitched back to life.

"No… I'm thinking… I'm paranoid, remember. What if it's dangerous at your apartment?" Homelander asked as the hand on his thigh slipped down to adjust his jeans. "I mean, look, all you're grabbing is what clothes? Personally, I'd say fuck them because if I die I won't be able to wear them again."

Annie didn't answer; she still stared at him, her brown eyes burning into the side of his face, "I've seen the inside of your apartment. There's nothing in there unless everything is in your bedroom; it's fucking empty." Homelander finished as he pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch, trying to give himself a semblance of relief.

Annie turned her head and glared out the window. "But they're my clothes. I bought and paid for most of them. Some of them are things I got when I lived in Iowa with my mom; they're like keepsakes and vintage."

Homelander hummed loudly at that, "Ah, that's where you're from. I knew it had to be somewhere in the Midwest. You didn't sound southern, but you had an accent." He commented and flashed her his usual crooked, fangy grin. "You look like you could be a farm girl." As soon as the words left his mouth, his mind conjured up an image of her in a dress, barefoot, offering him some lemonade in the doorway.

Annie wasn't having fantasies; she frowned at him. "What does that mean? That I'm stupid or something? Am I not as pretty as the city girls here? What do you expect me to play with pigs and cows or something?" She said as her lips downturned even more.

Homelander's eyes widened as his thoughts were interrupted by her tirade. He tilted his head in confusion as he finally pulled to a stop in front of her dilapidated apartment building. It looked too quiet and ominous for some reason, "You… no, you're beautiful. You have a charm to you that the other women don't."


"Ah, okay. So, I'm some starry-eyed girl who doesn't know what evil lurks in the city? That I can't imagine there being some type of evil that hides behind smiles and open arms? So, what you're saying is that I'm charming because I'm a stupid farm girl?" Annie scoffed and shoved his car door open.

Homelander watched her slam it shut behind her, and he sighed as he slapped his hand to his forehead before grabbing his gun and tucking it back into his waistband behind him and pulling his shirt over it. He climbed out of the car behind her, grateful she hadn't gone too far.

He carefully scanned the area, and the sidewalks were clear of people. He glanced up at the fire escape; all the apartment lights were off, mostly. "You're going in there to grab what you need, not everything. I can get what you want if you truly want it. I'll walk you up in five minutes. In and out."

Annie looked at him over her shoulder, "Yes, Dad." She sneered as she walked up the steps to the entrance.

Homelander dropped his head as he sighed. His mind was not his best friend at the current moment. Dad sounded too close to Daddy, and he wasn't sure he'd survive if that's how she was teasing him. He adjusted his jeans one more time before following behind her. He was behind her as they climbed seven flights of stairs. He narrowed his eyes as he followed her to her apartment door.

Annie fiddled with her keys, preparing to unlock her door, when Homelander grabbed her from behind, his hand covering her mouth as his eyebrows furrowed. She was about to bite into the meat of his palm when she realized what they were listening to.

A faint creak came from inside her apartment. Someone was walking around on her cheap wood flooring.

Homelander's voice was soft against her ear as he whispered, "I am going to let you go, but you do everything I say, got it?" His breath was warm as it tickled her. "Unlock the door for me, Annie." He unwrapped himself from her as he pulled his gun from his waistband.

Annie shakily nodded as she slowly unlocked her front door for him. Homelander's eyes gestured to the steps, "Wait for me on the 6th floor. If I don't come for you, get in my car; the keys are under my seat." He muttered. "Do I have to spell out what I want you to do with this information?"

Annie shook her head as she shakily disappeared down the steps. Once Homelander was sure she was gone, he reached out with one hand on the door, slowly pushed it open, and inched inside her empty apartment. He stood in the barren studio apartment as his eyes scanned the area.

Homelander aimed with his pistol as he slowly inched toward the door to the bedroom. He reached down with one hand toward the knob while his other hand tightened on the handle of his pistol. Just as he was preparing to open the door, something blew by Annie's front door and caused him to whip his head around.

As he turned to focus on the person running past the door, her bedroom door was open, and a man in all black fled, leaving through the conveniently opened window on the fire escape. Homelander ran to the window to catch sight of the black clothed figure jumping off the second-floor fire escape and running down the sidewalk.

Homelander turned around with a furious face as he walked out of her apartment. The person was Alex, he was standing at the 7th floor landing talking to Annie on the 6th. He ignored her scream as he grabbed Alex by his shirt collar and lifted the younger man, pinning him against the wall, and shoved the barrel of his gun under his jaw.

He was so angry that every noise sounded like static in his mind.

Homelander wanted to pull the trigger and watch Alex's brain paint the faded, peeling beige walls behind him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you fucking stupid running past the door like that?" He snarled in Alex's face. The thought that he was so close to getting the man who was infiltrating Annie's apartment was dashed because of this stupid excuse of a man.

"I-I… I had called in a delivery order, and he was rushing me… I didn't mean it." Alex studdered as he held both his hands up. He glanced toward an approaching Annie, willing her to help him.

"John! Stop!" Annie's voice was panicked as she climbed up the steps. She glanced around warily as she made it to them. Her hand shook a little as she reached out for his shoulder, "Alex didn't do anything… let him go. Please… for me?" She smiled worriedly up at him.

Homelander's nostrils flared as he narrowed his eyes. His face was still showing his apparent anger, and he pulled his gun from its place wedged beneath Alex's jaw. He lowered his gun and took a step back with a curl to his top lip back over his teeth, flashing his unnatural fangy canine.

"S-sorry, Alex… just… Haven't there been any weird men around the apartment lately that you noticed? On our floor or around?" Annie asked while trying to get his frightened brown eyes on her.

"A-Annie, no. Of course not, you're not in any trouble, are you?" Alex asked while glancing at Homelander over her shoulder. He knew that the man still held his gun, his index finger just a flinch away from sending a bullet through his body. "I, I uh, really have to get my food… so um, I hope everything is fine." He muttered as he wiped his hands on his pants and quickly separated from them.

Annie didn't even get a chance to answer his question before he all but fled. She swallowed, glanced at Homelander behind her, and reached for his hand. She tightened her grip as she looked up at him, "Um… did you find the person?" She asked quietly as she tried to relax her nerves.

Homelander glanced down and squeezed her hand back, his thumb tracing her knuckles. "I did, but your dumb ass neighbor ran in the hallway, distracting me, and the person got away. Come on, we'll get your clothes and get you home safe." He didn't realize that he called his penthouse home for her.

Annie didn't comment on his slip of tongue; she just let him lead her back into her apartment. She followed behind him almost aimlessly. She watched him holster his gun back into his waistband. She watched as he pushed open her bedroom door wide.

Homelander stared at her bedroom. It housed a cheap mattress on the floor, with all her clothes scattered everywhere. Her pillow was on the floor, thrown by the windows that led to the fire escape. He raised his eyebrows as he walked to the window. He easily lifted it and peered out before turning back toward her, "You don't lock your window?" He questioned.

Annie barely heard him as she looked at the state of her room, sure it was messy because she had clothes piled everywhere, but this was someone picking through her items and tossing them every which way. She felt her eyes water as she looked at all her stuff picked through like vultures would do on decomposing carcasses.

She collapsed to her knees as she realized a bag in her closet was torn open; it was her mother's clothes and stuff, her album of pictures of before they moved here. Her hands shook as she reached for it. "J-John…?" Her voice broke on his name.

Homelander had left her room to look for any other clues as to who might've been in her apartment. But he heard how defeated she sounded when she called out for him, he rushed back into the room to see her kneeling amongst her scattered clothing. She was holding a scrapbook of sorts in her hands.

Annie felt Homelander squat beside her. She turned to him and showed him the book. “It’s… they ripped up my book…” She was assessing the damage and flipping through the pages. Homelander could see glimpses of her as a baby, in costumes, or with her parents.

"If I…I lose my mom, I won't have… anything of her anymore…" Annie said, sniffling. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks.

Homelander did not like any of this; he wanted to find the man who was in her apartment and make him suffer as she had. The only other person closer to them was Alex; he'd risk her being angry at him if he could make someone else hurt for her. He reached out and put both hands on her shoulders as he gently turned her to him, "Do you want anything from here? We can just leave if it's too much, Annie." He said gently.

Annie looked down at the loose pages that had photos of her and her parents carefully glued down. She closed the book, clutching it to her chest, "I-I need work clothes and my charger and…" She sniffled louder.

Homelander nodded as he gently pried the book from her hands. He stood up and helped her rise to her feet. "Come on, take what you need, and then we can leave. Put this whole thing behind us, alright?"

Annie nodded as she slowly and almost robotically picked through her clothes. She was tucking everything into a tote bag, leaving most of her clothes aside from her work uniforms. She shuffled toward him after going through her bathroom and grabbing her toothbrush and hair care products. "I-I'm ready…"

Homelander nodded as he looped an arm around her shoulders to steer her out of her apartment. He felt her bury her face in his side as he shut her apartment door behind them; he didn't even bother to remind her to lock it. Nothing significant was in there anyway. He led them down the seven flights of stairs and out of the apartment building. Selfishly, he should feel happiness at the way she was clinging to him, but he didn't.

He missed her bipolarness, how she was bratty and argumentative. She was acting like a scared lap dog, and he didn't like it, but he held his comments as he led her to his car. He opened the passenger side and waited for her to get in and get situated before he shut the door.

Homelander went to his side and climbed in; he didn't care that his gun was pressing into his spine and making him uncomfortable. He glanced over and saw Annie's knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. "That's over… we can call William and tell him that you won't be in for a few nights." He said as he reached over to pat her knee.

He expected Annie to fight about how she wasn't a damsel in distress or how he was doing this because he wanted to bully her, but nothing came from her lips; she didn't even try to move his hand from her.

Homelander moved his hand from her knee to reach for his steering wheel as soon as he started the car. He couldn't believe this was what rattled her; it wasn't a dead body or a shoot-out, but a person taking away her sense of safety. He hated that he wanted to track the person down and present their head to her like a gift to see her smile.

Maybe Butcher was right; he was whipped, and all without her doing anything to him.

Chapter Text

Homelander did not like the silence in the car. He couldn't even focus on the traffic noise because there was none. His vehicle, while older, had been restored and maintained, so he could barely hear the engine. All the noise in his car was nothing aside from her quiet sniffles.

His gun was wedged uncomfortably against his spine as it was tucked away in his waistband. He wanted so bad to blow Alex's brains out. There was something about her neighbor that was sketchy, but he wouldn't bring up his suspicions, especially not now. Annie probably wouldn't argue with him; she'd dumbly nod and agree, meek and broken.

Homelander glanced over at her, his eyes scanned over her face while he studied her. God, he could see how broken she looked in her eyes. She didn't have much, and whoever was in her apartment destroyed that. He didn't even know how to comfort her; usually, he'd find himself in a bottle, in a woman, or in the midst of a fight to get over his problems.

He was sure she needed something gentler.

Homelander reached out and put his hand on her bare knee while his other still gripped the steering wheel. He glanced between her and the road to see if she budged or even looked at him. This was the worst possible torture he could've gone through. She was lively, but now she just seemed like a husk. He didn't like that.

"Annie…? When we get to my penthouse, um, you could get settled in, I'll show you where everything is and let you… be...?" Homelander's voice sounded strange to his own ears; he was suggesting, and not ordering her to do it. He couldn't even imagine how to pick up their easy banter from here; she didn't even acknowledge him.

But at least she didn't shove his hand from her knee.

Homelander hoped she was finding comfort in his enormous paw gripping her, his thumb sweeping along the side of her kneecap. He glanced at her throughout the ride as they made it to his private garage. He pulled in, and the door slowly rolled down behind him, "Annie… we're here…?" He said in a whisper. He felt like he was talking to a scared animal or something.

This was terrible.

Homelander knew one thing: they knew where she lived, so that meant they must've seen her mail. So, her mother's location was known. God forbid anything happens to Donna January; if he thought he was dealing with a husk now, he couldn't imagine what she'd turn into had they done something to her mother.

When Annie made no move to acknowledge or leave, Homelander reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt. He grunted as he grabbed her tote bag along with her bookbag, and he even picked up her dirty Converse and tucked them into her tote bag before climbing out of the car.

Homelander shut the door before going to her side. He eyed her carefully. She was a slight woman, slimmer, shorter than he was. He wondered if he'd have to carry her, if he could. He hummed as he contemplated his actions. He'd be juggling her and her stuff while he fought to open his doors to his penthouse.

Would she scan his door card in the elevator for him so they could go to his floor?

He figured he'd find out as soon as he opened her door. When he did, he reached for her hand and she grabbed his, pulling herself from the car. He still held her tote and bookbag over his arm, freeing up his other hand, he dug in his pocket as he led her to the elevator in front of them.

Annie followed him inside when the elevator doors hissed open. She immediately leaned against him while he scanned the card to go to the very top floor, P1. She swallowed as she leaned against him, "I… the safest place I thought I'd have was ruined in one night." She muttered to him.

Homelander felt his heart break for her. Disappointment was all the city ever gave anybody. He felt it. He was disappointed by many things in the city. He watched her register where she was and could hear the sadness in her voice. "It's… It's just a place. As long as you're safe, you could make anywhere a safe haven…"

The elevator doors hissed open, revealing his home. He stared straight into his penthouse, his eyes finding the floor-to-ceiling windows to see the stars glittering in the black night sky. He glanced down and regretted it. He met her warm whiskey eyes shining with unshed tears.

Annie blinked rapidly, trying to slow them from falling, "I want to be strong, but I can't… I can't, John. What if I went home alone? What if you weren't there and something worse happened? I-I… can I cry? Can I cry without you making fun of me?" She asked with a watery voice.

Homelander did not like any of this; he couldn't let her be like this. He dropped her hand and bags and immediately grabbed her around her thighs and lifted her easily. He hands smoothed upward and cradled her ass as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He moved one hand to the back of her head and clutched it, pulling her head down to his throat.

Annie buried her face in his throat as she tightened her limbs around him. She wanted to be cared for; she needed this. She hadn't felt this safe since her father was living. The thought made her cling closer to him.

"You can cry… I won't make fun of you. You're safe here… with… me." Homelander muttered as he turned his head to breathe in her shampoo, his nose brushing some of the blonde strands. He didn't know whether he was holding her to comfort her or him, but he tightened his grip on her.

Homelander walked her into the penthouse, using his foot to drag her tote bag and book bag inside so his elevator could close behind them. When her tears started to run dry, he carefully untangled her from his body and sat her back on her socked feet. "Uh, I'll show you around and then I'll let you take a shower and get ready for a night's rest." He smiled as he looked down at her.

Annie nodded as she reached up and wiped her face clean, as clean as she could get it without water and soap. "Um, a mini tour?" She questioned as she looked around. It was nice. He was rich, she knew, and his home looked like the kind of place a rich person would live in.

There were several statues of figureheads that she didn't feel like looking at to determine who they were. There was a giant American flag on the wall. She felt like it looked like a museum; it lacked warmth but was filled with history.

Homelander noticed her critical gaze as she looked around his living room, "I don't decorate or control this. I usually have an interior designer do this." He explained that as he watched her peek into the kitchen, it looked modern and up to date, with the latest equipment.

Annie pursed her lips as she looked around with a slight frown, "Isn't this your penthouse? Don't you have some control?" She questioned as she reached for his hand. "You might need a new interior designer."

Homelander felt her pull him toward the kitchen, and he looked down at her, feeling warmth spread in his chest. He was so close to telling her she could design it any way she wanted to make it feel like a home. He will give in to her demands if only she asks.

"You have a deck? And are all the windows floor-to-ceiling like that? Panorama or whatever?" Annie questioned as she stared into the night sky; she could see the skyline better here than she would've at her apartment. "Would I be able to see the whole city or just what I can see from here?" She asked while pausing by his kitchen island, debating whether she should let him lead her onto the deck.

"Um, it's panoramic. The best place to see the whole city would be in my bedroom, but I can't exactly say that because it sounds like I'm hitting on you. Normally I would, but you've been through a lot…" Homelander said as he awkwardly trailed off. "Um, well, you'll be sleeping there."

Annie tilted her head at him with furrowed eyebrows, "I'll be sleeping in your bedroom? Where would you be sleeping?"

Homelander ignored her question as he lifted their clasped hands to gesture toward the kitchen, trying to finish the tour. "This is the kitchen… everything is top-notch and costs a pretty penny. It's fully stocked. I don't grocery shop; I hire people to do that. So, if you need anything, just write a note and stick it to the fridge." He muttered as he pulled her back toward the living room.

They entered the room that would usually be the first stop off the elevator, earlier, the common area that branched out to every room in the place. Homelander raised his eyebrow as he used the tip of his shoe to adjust the area carpet. The man he killed here a few months ago must've chipped his dark wood flooring when the stool fell over. He ignored it for now as he gestured to the large sectional and more floor-to-ceiling windows.

"That remote lowers the TV from the ceiling and works the blackout shades for the windows. There's a fireplace too because it gets chilly at times in the winter." Homelander said, eyeing the grey sectional. He wondered how comfortable it was; he hadn't necessarily sat on it for extended periods.

"I said you'll take my room, but I'll be on the couch. You won't be alone." He said, clearing his throat.

"I—no! I don't want to kick you out of your bed. You're not sleeping on your couch, no matter how comfortable it sort of looks." Annie argued, her eyebrows knitting together.

Homelander liked seeing a little of her spark come in. He shook his head, "No. You are not sleeping on the couch." He cut in harshly; his tone was final, ending any chance that this argument might continue. "Look, my bed would be great. It's big. It's comfortable. You'll get some great sleep in it."

"But—" Annie started, only for him to let go and cup her face in his hands. His thumbs both pressed over her lips, closing her mouth. He tilted his head until his forehead met hers.

“Annie… please…” Homelander's voice softened as glacier blues met whiskey browns, "You can get settled and ready for bed. I'll show you where." He said, before slipping away from her, that he went to the elevator to grab her bookbag and totebag, then led her down the hall to his bedroom. He pushed the door open with his foot, gesturing for her to come in.

Annie stared at the California king-sized bed next to more floor-to-ceiling windows, the windows actually covered the whole back wall where his bed was, to the right corner forming an 'L' shape. His bedsheets were navy blue, and she didn't realize they were littered with tiny stars. His comforter was a dark bronze, almost like the headboard against the glass.

She noticed that the museum theme had traveled in here as well; there were a bunch of portraits of old political people everywhere, she assumed. It was funny to see his starry sheets under the glare of these political people.

Annie didn't know what drew her to do it, but she sat on the edge of his massive bed and leaned back. When she did, her eyes widened as she looked up at the ceiling, seeing herself reflected back to her. "You have a mirror on your ceiling?" She questioned as she met Homelander's eyes through the reflection. "Um, is this the interior designer, too, or…?" She trailed off as she looked away from his eyes in the mirror; she didn't want to see her cheeks inflamed.

Homelander stared in the mirror still. His thoughts are taking on a darker undertone. He could see her milky body stretched out against his sheets. Her blonde hair would be spread out around her head like a halo. Would he want her on top and have her staring down at him, or would he want to be on top so she could watch them from his mirrored ceiling?

"No, uh, I used to be obsessed with stars and space, and I didn't really grow out of it. The mirror… I just like to lie awake and see myself and wonder." He tried to answer honestly as he set her bookbag and tote down. That was one reason; it's not like he lied to her. The second reason is obviously that sex seems a little more exciting when you can see it.

Homelander gestured over to a double door, "That's my closet… If you need to put your clothes away or if you need to borrow some for… bed." He stepped further into the room and walked past the low chaise in the corner to the door, which was cracked opposite the double doors. "This is where the bathroom is. I have a spare toothbrush and other things in the drawers." He mumbled.

Annie nodded as she stood up. "J-John… thank you again." She walked toward him and leaned toward him before sliding her arms around his waist. She pressed her ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat. She held onto him until she felt his arms wrap around her.

Homelander tucked his chin so it could dig into the top of her scalp; he slid his eyes shut. He didn't know what this feeling was. He was usually detached; he never wanted to get close to another person like this, yet he felt like he could enjoy this. Usually, he had a problem with showing his feelings, his affections for another person, or, as Klara had said a while ago, that he was too demanding and wanted to control everything.

But he knew where they came from.

His mother died when he was young. The lack of a mother in the house did a number on him. He couldn't say he had mother issues because he didn't go out looking for another mother. He went out and found any women who didn't care about him being too scathing to them, so he didn't have to fake that he was in love with them. No, he found women he could use and forget about.

But he didn't want to do that to her.

And it was wrecking him.

Their hug ended far too soon for his liking. Annie pulled away with a shy grin as she cleared her throat, "I'm gonna take that shower and get ready for bed. I'll see you in the morning, then?" She asked as she inched toward his bathroom.

Homelander stared at the cracked bathroom door and heard the shower start running, not even a few seconds later. He sighed to himself as he walked to his closet. He opened the double doors and walked into his walk-in. He peeled his shirt over his head and paused at his jeans. He reached behind him for his gun tucked in his waistband. He set his Glock down on one of the shelves in his closet as he stripped to his briefs.

He had kicked off his jeans and shoes before he rummaged through some drawers for a pair of sweats and the next shirt to sleep in. He usually slept naked, but he was not about to scar Annie like that. He had some decorum. He grabbed an old, faded Yankees shirt for her to wear and left his closet, holding his shirt he was letting her borrow and his gun.

As Homelander left his room and walked back into the living room, he stretched out on his large sectional and tucked his gun underneath the edge of his couch just in case. He heard the water stop and could listen to her padding around on the wood floors.

When he heard her feet stop moving on the floor, he shifted, settling onto the sectional the best he could. Homelander immediately tucked his hand under his head while the other flung itself over his eyes. In the morning, the sun was going to be Hell through the windows. He stretched out as far as he could before letting himself drift off.

Chapter Text

Annie did stop padding around his room, but it was only because she stared at his massive bed as she clutched the towel around her damp body. Her shower was terrific for the time being; it was a temporary haven. But it all fizzled out when she turned off the water. The steam had fled from the bathroom with her; her feet grew cold as she stepped from the heated bathroom tiles onto the dark hardwood floors.

Her body felt overworked and tired. Maybe her schedule was getting to be a little hectic; she was running on fumes.

Annie looked around his bedroom again; it felt lived in, in a way that one would treat a hotel room. Everything looked properly made; she wondered if he had a military background because of the way his bed was put together. As she rubbed the towel against her drying body, she noticed the lone shirt that was tossed on the edge of his bed.

It was a faded Yankees shirt. It looked well-worn as she reached out to pick it up. It was the navy shorts that had softened over the years, while the white 'NY' seemed cracked and peeling. She looked around again and expected to see Homelander standing around, but he wasn't.

She smiled, realizing he had left it out for her to wear. In the midst of her packing, she grabbed mostly work outfits with some panties and bras. She didn't get a chance to pick through her wardrobe to make any sound decisions.

Annie slowly pulled his shirt over her head, and immediately she realized their size difference. The shirt hung off her, oversized and showing her shoulders and collarbones. But it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling; maybe it was his scent, but she felt safe in his shirt, in his space. She slowly walked over to her tote to find some comfortable underwear to slide into. When she was ready, she turned around and frowned a bit.

The—his bed was a different story. It wasn't as easily navigable as an old, forgotten t-shirt; this was used every night. A shirt could be forgotten in an instant.

Crawling into his bed felt intimate. It bordered on her relationship lines. The only other beds she's been in were family members or significant others. Her father was a real hard ass about sleepovers when he was living, and she was younger. It was always something about, "You want to leave your house to go spend the night at someone else's house? What sense does that make, Annie? Do you want me to sell your bed so you can stay on theirs, too?" That was one of the last times she asked about sleepovers.

Annie shivered as that thought swirled through her mind as she stared at his bed. Homelander wasn't taking no for an answer and basically banished her to his bedroom. But sleeping beneath the bronze blanket and navy sheets felt like a line she couldn't cross. But as she put her hand on the mattress, attempting to crawl in, it felt like a cloud. Her hand sank down, and she wondered how he even left his bed at all.

She pulled the sheets back before her body sank down. She felt like she was in a cold hug, like bugs feel wrapped in their cocoons or something.

Annie pulled the covers higher to her chin as she turned to her side. She buried her face into one of his navy pillows and couldn't help but breathe in. Homelander was essentially wrapped around her from all angles, just not physically. His scent curled around her as she snuggled further into the sheets and bed.

She usually wouldn't say it, but she was wrong. She felt safe. Probably safer here than she felt in weeks. Homelander was supposed to be one of the scariest men in New York, no, the world. And oddly enough, he made her feel safe.

Yet, that realization made it hard for her to sleep.

Annie stared at her reflection from the mirrored ceiling; she had shifted multiple times throughout the night. She couldn't get comfortable and sleep no matter how hard she tried; it's like her brain wouldn't turn off.

The weight of everything felt heavier. It's like the walls were closing in on her.

She claimed she was stressed and tired, and that she's been the sole breadwinner for a while now, but it hadn't always been that way. No, it was a new problem that stressed her out, that made her feel confused.

Homelander.

He was like a made-up villain from a crime documentary or something. He was supposed to be powerful, ruthless, and terrifying. He was supposed to have no care for others and no morals. He did whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He was supposed to be a monster.

But Annie felt herself drawn to him.

He wasn't a monster with her. He protected, held, and cared for her. They argued more often than not. They had this weird tension between them, she felt like if either gave in, it would be trouble for the other. Every almost-kiss rattled off in her mind; they were so close so many times, and never did it.

She felt like the universe put her in his way for something. She didn't know what, but something was bound to happen. One of them will cave. She hoped it wasn't her; she'd probably be swept up in everything, but she didn't want to lead.

She couldn't.

Annie rolled the other way before sitting up in bed. She stared at the closed door, wondering if he was asleep yet. Should she go check on him? After all, he's been taking care of her—what if he needs someone to take care of him? No, she couldn't. He was a monster, right? Even if he wasn't a monster with her.

He asked her if she was afraid of him, but what if he was scared of her? Their tension was like some kind of game; he looked at her with something in his glacier-blue eyes. Was it lust? Love? Hatred? She didn't know, but he sometimes pulled away.

Annie sighed and was about to lie back down when she heard footsteps. They were soft and traveling away from her. So, he was up? She crawled from under the warm cocoon she had made in his bed. She wondered what he was doing up this late.

She quickly followed behind him silently, opening his bedroom door and slipping down the hall behind him. She saw his broad shoulders as he turned from the living room outside onto the balcony.

Homelander was holding a glass of liquor and had a cigarette between his teeth as he walked deeper onto the deck. He came to the railing and overlooked the city as he took a drag from his cigarette. His forearms rested against the metal as he held his drink. His head tipped backward as he let the smoke leave in rings, and he blew it out from between his lips.

Annie had seen some men do it in the clubs with things other than cigarettes—more like vapes and things—so she was surprised to see how effortlessly he did it. She slipped out the glass door that looked similar to the floor-to-ceiling windows to join him. She wondered if he had ever gotten the door mixed up with the window before and slammed into the glass.

All she knew about what he did came from the brief encounter in the alley and old crime movies. Him standing like a regular man did not fit anything she knew. He was supposed to be surrounded by strippers and doing cocaine or something. But brooding and staring into the distance was not what she imagined.

Homelander felt the wind blow, stirring his hair. He wondered if he should've put his shirt on before he came outside, but it wasn't that cold. And he rarely got sick. He'd be fine. He took another slow drag of his cigarette, breathing out the smoke. He looked at the lights from the skyline before glancing up at the black glittery sky.

Annie inched closer and paused when she noticed he was shirtless, wearing sweatpants that were low on his hips. She wondered how he was out in the chilly night with bare feet and an upper body. She even had a shiver; she hoped it was from the cold, not because she was looking at him. She's seen men half-naked before.

"Why are you outside, John?" Annie questioned as she finally spoke up. The wind made her wrap her arms around herself to attempt to warm herself up. She knew she needed a distraction, but looking at the distraction itself wasn't helping at all. She didn't need her thoughts to trail.

Homelander turned as he moved his back against the railing, his eyes ran down her body, stopping at where his shirt ended on her. The hem rested at almost the top of her thighs, and he took another drag from his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony. "I'm awake because I don't usually sleep for too long." He answered as he watched her inch closer. "Why are you awake? You should be the one sleeping."

Annie shrugged as she felt his eyes burning into hers. She glanced at her feet and wiggled her toes as her hand nervously played with the hem of his shirt. She pulled at a loose string absentmindedly, "I-I'm too worked up, I guess. I couldn't sleep." She said as she stepped closer to him, closing the distance. "Uh… do you usually do this?" She asked him while watching him take a swig of his liquor.

Homelander swallowed, his throat bobbing before he mirrored her shrug. He turned back to face the skyline and felt her move to his right. "Not usually. I do like looking at the sky. I used to wish when I was younger I could fly…" He admitted, "I like to oversee the city. Just staring at what I own… It's fascinating that people could live and be unbothered without knowing that most of their beloved politicians and officers are on my payroll. Average people wouldn't know and won't care. Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to be average."

Annie looked at him; he was staring at the skyline, deep in thought. She bit the bullet and threw caution to the wind. She grabbed his right hand and lifted it. She could see him tilt his head at her in the corner of her eyes. She ducked under his arm and set his hand back down. She stood with her back to his chest, caged between his arms on the railings.

Homelander didn't say anything, and Annie wondered if she had overstepped until he put his chin at the top of her head. She reached for his glass and sniffed it, her nose crinkling, and handed it back to him. "You couldn't be average. I think you could still be normal, without being average, you know? You're just a little scary at times." She said, tilting her head back to look at the sky, watching the twinkling stars amongst the black. "You know what's funny? I used to look at the stars and make a wish. I used to wish for a lot of things. I remember I wished for a boyfriend like my dad because I liked that he protected my mom."

Homelander slowly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back into his body. He curled around her as his hand splayed beneath her breast and curled around her side to dig into the meat of her body there. He felt her lean back into him, his body slotting against hers perfectly. He brought his glass to his mouth to take a slow sip as he murmured, "Oh, did that particular wish come true?" He asked as his nose brushed against her ear.

Annie could feel his lips brush her neck. She shivered again as she stared at the night sky while Homelander kissed her neck. "What wish?" She asked as she tried to focus on the sky rather than what she was feeling as his teeth teased her throat.

Homelander chuckled against her throat and stopped moving so he could speak. "You wished for a boyfriend like your dad. Someone to protect you. Do you still wish, or did that come true?" He asked as the hand beneath her breast slid down her stomach to the hem of the shirt she wore.

Annie was hyperaware of his hand skirting the line of his regular touches. He never moved this way, and she didn't know whether she should stop him. "I-I… I was still wishing until recently…" She trailed off as she felt his hand slide onto her thigh and slowly drag its way up until it stopped at the hem of the shirt she wore. She was surprised he stopped, unless he was asking permission.

"Recently? What happened recently, Annie?" Homelander's breath was warm against her skin as his index finger dipped under the hem of the shirt she wore, but it didn't venture very far. He could feel her overthinking. Hell, he was too. They hadn't properly kissed, and he's already thinking about tucking her shirt under her chin and burying his hand between her thighs.

Annie shuddered as her hips shifted backward into his. At first, it was incidental; now, well, she needed to know if this was affecting him the way it was affecting her. She was sure he could feel how tense her thighs were, or he could probably see how close together they were, clenching. "I-I… um… some guy who's overconfident and overbearing came out of nowhere. He butted into my life, and I just don't make wishes anymore. You never know what you could conjure up." She said as his finger teased the shirt's hemline.

Homelander hummed as his nose brushed against her ear, where he nibbled on her earlobe briefly. He made a noise before muttering, "Ah, sounds like a good man. I don't see the problem… unless…" He trailed off as he lifted his drink to his lips. He finished the rest with a large swallow.

Annie watched him crouch behind her to put the glass down to free up both hands as his arms caged her back in against his body. She felt him drop his head on her shoulder, his cheek pressing to hers as his chin dug into her shoulder. "U-unless, what?"

Homelander used his right hand to trace up her curves, abandoning the teasing of the shirt's hemline to turn her head to face him, his picture-perfect, iconic fangy grin stretched across his face. "Unless you lied, Annie."

Annie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she searched his intense eyes. The way he stared at her made her feel like he was the man that Butcher warned her about. It looked like he played it safe just to get her in his web. "Lied? About what, John?" She asked in a whisper.

Homelander's grin only widened as he leaned in, his nose brushing hers as his lips trailed over her own. He spoke against her lips, wanting to close the distance between them so bad. "Are you afraid of me? You told me 'no', but I think you're lying, Annie." He shifted their bodies so her back was against the railing, and he caged her in, his hands on either side of her body, gripping the balcony. "Answer truthfully. Are you afraid of me?" He questioned with a cock of his head.

Annie took a deep breath as she met his eyes. She was silent for a moment as she considered his question. She wasn't afraid of him, but she was afraid of him. He was a monster, but she wanted him to be her monster. “…yes…” She whispered as her hands found themselves pressing flat onto his chest. She played with the soft hair beneath her fingertips as it felt like she branded her palms onto him.

Homelander moved his head closer; their mouths were barely separated. He could've kissed her if he wanted to. "Why?" He asked before he could hold himself back. He needed to know; he had understood why others were scared, but he hadn't done anything to her. He expected to see her try to ease the sting or take back her answer, but she didn't.

Annie pursed her lips in thought before glancing up at him through her eyelashes. She shrugged at him, "I am afraid of you because no matter how much I believe I can keep you away and out of my life, you'll come back. I'm afraid because it's scarier to be wanted by you than by the people who want me because of you. I’m afraid because… oh, God…” She trailed off and tried to look away, but his hand shot out to grip her face.

Homelander's hand cradled her jaw, his thumb finding her chin as he made sure she kept eye contact with him, "No… God's not here, Annie. There's no God, the only man in the sky is me." He said, holding her gaze. His head tilted down as he leaned into her again. "Tell me… Tell me why you're afraid."

Annie's head couldn't move; she squared her shoulders and tilted her head back further. Their lips were so close, she wanted him closer. "I-I'm afraid of you b-because I want you to be mine more than I ever wanted someone, and that is scary." She admitted with a swallow before she shut her eyes. She couldn't look into his eyes anymore. What if all this tension was in her head? What if she just made a fool of herself? What if he didn't see her the same way? Would she have to leave? Would he throw her to the wolves? Is he not a wolf ready to strike and chomp on her bones at any given moment? Her thoughts were loud as they banged around in her skull.

Homelander's eyes crinkled at the edges as his grin widened. If she had seen him, she would've said he looked sharklike right now. But it was true, there was blood in the water, and he found it. He was a monster, but he wasn't evil. Whatever had been brewing since he had seen her the day he almost blew Charles' brains out in the alley, he was curious. He found her at Butcher's and grew even more interested. She knew the stories about him and almost witnessed one herself, but she wasn't outright afraid of him.

But now he knew, he knew because she was afraid of herself. She wanted him. And it wasn't one-sided. He wanted her too. He has wanted her for a little while now.

What scared him was being the good guy she needed him to be. Homelander was never a hero; in many people's eyes, he barely functions as a supervillain. They just know him as a whisper you never want to hear; he's a shark, a snake, the devil. He takes whatever he wants.

But she didn't deserve that guy.

Homelander brushed their noses again. He stopped near her lips as he pressed his forehead to hers, his thumb hooking under her jawline, trying to drag her closer. "You'll tell me if you don't want me?" He asked, knowing the answer. If she was vocal about anything, it was her dislikes. She didn't like him bullying and strong-arming her. Annie was independent and apparently didn't like help.

Annie gave him the briefest of nods as he barely kissed her. It was a small press of their lips together before he withdrew. She let out a soft whine as her eyes opened, her hands on his chest slid upward to lace together behind his neck, "…more?"

Homelander licked his lips as his free hand dropped to her hip, pulling her closer to him before winding itself around her lower back, locking her to his body. He hated that he finished his whiskey; he knew that she'd taste like the liquor, but he wanted to taste her bare. He wondered if she tasted like fruit? Maybe sweet like candy? Would he develop a sweet tooth because of her? He wondered as he leaned down to kiss her again.

Annie gasped against his lips as he kissed her with more pressure. He backed her into the railing, and both his arms wrapped around her body, crushing her to him. She moaned and parted her lips for him as his tongue dragged itself into her mouth. She felt her toes curl as he deepened their kiss. Was the peck before their first kiss? Or should she count this one? This one meant the most, she supposed. This one was her first kiss with him; this is the one she's filing away.

Homelander felt her yield to him, letting herself follow his lead. He groaned as he felt her hands grab onto his shoulders, and her hips bumped into his. He felt her tongue clash with his, dragging against the wet muscle. As he kissed her harder, he couldn't help but buck his hips. He groaned against her mouth as his bulge pressed into her stomach.

They both forgot about the cold; their bodies were more than capable of warming each other up. Annie's hand pressed to his chest as she broke away from the kiss; her back was pinned against the railing with a lusty-eyed Homelander blocking her path. She took deep, shaky breaths as she tried to properly breathe for the first time in several minutes. “Wait… wait…”

Homelander tilted his head as his chest heaved much like hers, but he was more silent about it. He licked his lips as he eyed hers; they were a lovely red and swollen. He wondered if she'd let him bite her bottom lip. He watched her try to drag air into her lungs in front of him. He looked at how flushed her face was; it was a nice, warm glow. He wondered if it was from him kissing her as thoroughly as he did or if the cold air was catching up to her.

"Annie?" Homelander asked as he raised his eyebrow at her, his fingers forcing her chin up. Their eyes met again, and he searched them for clues.

Annie glanced down from his eyes to his sweatpants, then back to his eyes. Her face was already flushed because they had just suffocated each other for several minutes, kissing, but her face was brighter now as she realized how far they were progressing. "I-I'm not like… I'm not those girls…" She murmured without meeting his eyes. It sounded cliché, she knew it, but the first night here, she couldn't just fuck him, no matter how sad she was or how helpful—hot he was. She tried to block out, almost caving into his rutting.

They were drying humping each other outside on his balcony, the first night she was here. She came out of his room to distract herself with the distraction of his person, only to be pulled into another set of distractions because the way his sweatpants were tenting drew her eyes.

"What?" Homelander said, trying to make out what she said. It was hard because she whispered. He crossed his arms over his chest as his eyebrows knit together. He thought things were going great, so he didn't know what happened.

“I-I… look… I want you. I don't not want you. I just… I'm not going to jump into bed with you immediately, you know?" Annie said, her hands gripping the balcony behind her. She needed something to ground her. His face morphed, and she swore he was going to eat her alive.

"So, no sex?" Homelander said, licking the sharpness of his teeth. He walked closer, and she felt trapped as she watched him advance. He closed the distance between them as he playfully kissed her lips again before kissing and nipping down her jaw. He found her ear and whispered, "All sex? Or can I touch you some more?" He asked as he sucked her earlobe into her mouth and nipped at it.

Annie felt her brain short-circuit, "Um… uh…" She whined as she leaned her head away so he could have more access to her ear and neck. His mouth was wet and hot on her skin. She moved her hands from the balcony to his sides. She felt his hands grab her wrists and transfer them to one hand. "Uh-h, y-yeah no sex… we can uh… we should wait. But—uh—touching? I can… touching sounds niceeee…” She drew out the 'e' as his mouth sucked a hickey between her jaw and neck.

Homelander could hear her moans and whines as he sucked on her neck. His erection was fully engorged now, probably not as hard as he'd need it if he happened to use it tonight, but it was straining against his pants. His free hand slipped down her soft thigh again before slowly dragging his shirt up to her waist. His hand, not holding her wrists captive in his grasp, slipped between her legs, his index finger teasing the damp cotton there.

Annie bucked and wiggled her wrists, trying to free herself. "Oh… J-John… um…” She wiggled against the balcony as she whimpered. She could feel his finger running along the dampness of her panties. "I…" His mouth wasn't doing anything, but kissing now, and it was driving her crazy.

Homelander tucked his forehead against her neck as his mouth pressed open kisses on her shoulder, which was revealed due to his shirt being too big on her frame. His finger moved toward the edge of her panties and slowly slipped beneath the wet material. His hand tightened on her wrist, preparing himself from her to try and snatch away from him, "Shhh… just touching…" He whispered as he used his shoulder to tuck her face into his neck. He wanted to hear the first noise he made when he touched her without the barrier.

Annie didn't know whether to spread her thighs or not; she couldn't see past their bodies, and his mouth was doing a good job at distracting her and keeping her eyes shut. She pulled at his grip, trying to free her hands. "J-john… I… pl-please—wait—pleaseeee." She whined again and pulled at his hold again as her toes curled in anticipation.

Homelander raised his eyebrow at her whines. He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He didn't go as far as pushing his finger inside her; he merely traced the length of her wet pussy without dipping in. He wanted to, but no sex, as far as he was concerned, fingering wasn't fucking, but he'll listen. "Are you a virgin or something?" He teased as he found her clit.

Annie opened her mouth and bit at his shoulder. Her teeth bite into his skin before releasing it to whimper, "NO! I-I… no, I-I'm not! I just… G-god." She pressed her forehead into his neck, "I… we're outside and… too much is happening…" She slipped her eyes shut and cringed, feeling her nose wrinkle. "I… can I go to sleep now?"

Homelander chuckled as he released her wrists and moved his hand from between her thighs, her panties snapping back into place against her skin with a wet noise. He brought his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean.

Annie felt her face flush a red that wasn't even a recognized color. She watched his tongue with wide eyes as her mouth opened and closed several times. She watched him step back and adjust the shirt she wore on her frame.

Homelander gave her a trademark grin, almost like he knew something she didn't. Considering he could see the shiny liquid trailing down her thigh, he did. Now, should he tell her that she's so wet that she's dripping down the inside of her thigh, or would that make her run and hide from him? He wasn't going to say anything, but he kept the thought in mind. "Goodnight, Annie." He said sweetly, his eyes crinkling at the edges with his smile.

Annie stiffly nodded and shuffled past him toward the penthouse, but she stopped and came back. She pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss before scampering away from him. She rushed back to his bedroom to close the door and create some kind of barrier between them.

She felt like this was going to be an extended stay.

Homelander watched her rush away from him, and he chuckled as he slipped his hand down inside his sweatpants. His hand definitely wasn't wet enough to ease the glide, but the little wetness that coated his fingers from touching her will have to do. He wasn't going to risk her hearing him, so he walked toward the railing before glancing over his shoulder.

The lack of privacy was going to kill him, eventually. Right now, he was sure Annie was sleeping, trying to forget how far they had gone. He could imagine her as a prude; she worked in a fucking strip club.

Homelander lowered the front of his sweatpants to pull his cock out. He moved his hand to grip the railing as he stared out into the skyline. The cool air on his skin made his eyes flutter as he wrapped his hand around himself. He squeezed, letting out a grunt as he felt his hand wrap around his girth.

He flexed his fingers, not knowing if he wanted his grip looser or tighter; he hadn't done this since he was a teenager. Well, he hasn't addressed the problem himself since he was a teenager. It felt better when the women did it.

Homelander used his thumb to smear his precome around the tip of his cock. He glanced down to see how the moonlight reflected in it. He slowly stroked himself, imagining her hand, mouth, or body in the place of his hand.

He barred his teeth and licked his lips as he imagined her. Her hair spread out beneath her as her limbs wrapped around him, no, her on top of him, looking down with those pretty brown eyes. No, she was kneeling in front of him as she dragged her tongue up and down his length with a smile. He could feel his toes curling as he pumped his hand faster.

One thought occurred to him: he owned the city. It was his city. He could do whatever he wanted. “I-I… can do… whatever the FUCK… I… want…” Homelander growled between clenched teeth as he felt his balls tighten. He groaned as he came, spurting over the railing. His hand tightened on the balcony so hard as he leaned against it, he almost swore he heard the metal groan beneath him.

Homelander slowly caught his breath as his cock twitched in his loosening grasp. He flicked his wrist, slinging some of his come off of it, before wiping his hand on his pant leg. He pulled his sweatpants back over his softening cock and smiled as he looked at the skyline.

The city was his.

Annie was his.

Chapter Text

Annie has been at Homelander's penthouse for a week now. It wasn't uncomfortable anymore, and that was a problem. Being with him shouldn't be normal. She shouldn't feel at home with him. But here she was for the past seven days, waking up to make a coffee that they split because he awoke to the smell of it being brewed.

They had a domesticated routine.

It felt nice.

Homelander had been with her for the past seven days, but this morning she watched him dress himself. Annie sat on the bed in another one of his shirts; this time, it was a faded New York Knicks one. The orange was peeling from the logo, and she was no better as she picked at it.

It's been seven days since that first night she was here. That night when his hands roamed her body, the tension lingered since then. She knew what he looked like when he wanted her, and she wanted to see it again. Annie wanted to watch those glacier blue eyes darken as they held her gaze again.

Homelander hummed as he walked around his bedroom, barely glancing toward Annie, who watched him from his bed. He was wearing his black dress pants and a white button-down, which he was tucking into his pants. "Tie or no tie?" He said, speaking mainly to himself.

Annie glanced at him as he disappeared inside his walk-in closet, "Where are you going first?" She questioned from the bed. Her hair was messy, with tangled strands. She woke from her sleep to the sound of the shower running, then Homelander getting dressed as he paced back and forth.

"Handle business… meeting a friend, which do you prefer I say?" Homelander answered from his walk-in closet. She could hear him shuffling around the drawers, looking for something.

"Friend? Do you even have those?" Annie asked as she lay back in bed. She stared at her reflection on the mirrored ceiling. She looked well rested, but a little tangled; she'd probably take her shower when he left.

Homelander pulled out a black and a red tie as he walked out of his closet. He chuckled at her question, but didn't answer it. "You sound very curious about what I'm doing, Annie. Is this your way of saying you'll miss me?" He said, looking up at the ceiling to catch her eyes in the reflection. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to answer.

"No, I didn't say I'll miss you. But I am curious. So, are you gonna tell me what you're really doing, John?" Annie sat up to ask him sweetly, even smiling widely. It was a fake, teasing smile, but he knew that. She was trying to get him to tell her, but she knew he wouldn't unless he wanted to. Something about implicating her was wrong, and it's easier for her to be left out of the loop rather than lie about it.

Homelander moved toward the edge of the belt, hoisting up the ties for her. "I am going into the city to meet with an important person. Now, which tie makes me look scarier?" He asked with a similar fake smile. It made Annie laugh and roll her eyes at him.

Annie looked between him and the two tie options. She didn't know which one he should wear, but she did know it depended on whether he was wearing the jacket. She felt like it was too much black, but then red was too on-the-nose. She pushed the covers down and kneeled on the bed; his oversized shirt, which she wore, settled around her bare thighs as she leaned closer to inspect the fabric. "Are you wearing the jacket or going in the button-up? I feel like this is an important meeting, wear the jacket… but I don't know which tie…" She muttered.

Homelander wondered if she knew he was about to show his power with the Sheriff he helped get elected. Ed Flanagan was easily bought, and he wanted to be the Sheriff of New York. He pulled some strings for the man; now, he needed his due. Everyone should've known by now that shaking hands with the Devil meant you'll see him come and collect.

He glanced down and caught sight of her thinking face. She looked so focused and concentrated on pairing the right tie. He thought she looked cute like this. He couldn't help himself as he leaned in, catching her lips with his in a short kiss.

Annie has gotten used to his kisses. That night on his private balcony changed a lot between them; they haven't moved on past kissing, but they've done it more than once in the 7 days she's been here. Sometimes their kisses lingered and deepened; other times, they were short and chaste. Neither of them acknowledged what happened in their relationship, but when he kissed her, she always reciprocated.

She remembered catching him off guard one morning. She was making her coffee, intent on drinking half, when she did, he woke up, and she kissed his lips, a slow press as she handed him the rest of her coffee. She liked seeing how weak he could go when she initiated their kisses.

Annie pulled away, nipping his bottom lip as she did so. She tilted her head as she looked at the smug fangy grin stretched across his face, "I think you should do black. Red seems a little… knowing? Something about you wearing a blood red tie is very telling for your line of business."

Homelander licked his lips as he tossed the red tie onto her lap. He put a fist down on the bed beside one of her folded legs and nodded. He wasn't listening to a thing she said. He only wanted to kiss her again; he didn't even want to go to the police station. He brushed his nose with hers, "Very telling? What does that mean, Annie?"

Annie put her hand on his chest, trying to stop him, but he only made her topple backward with a giggle as she felt him slowly climb onto the bed. "John! You have places to be!" She giggled as she felt his lips on her throat. She tilted her head to let him get more space to nip and suck.

Homelander chuckled darkly into her throat as his hands slowly found the hem of his shirt. He wanted to slip his hand between her thighs like he did that night, but she said no sex, well, at least not right now. He supposed she didn't want to rush into it, and he understood, even if he was annoyed. "I am going to be late… but luckily, I make my own schedules."

Annie reached down for his hands to keep them from pulling the shirt up, "Come on, John. You said after your business was taken care of, you'd take me by the club to see my friends, because I actually have some, unlike you." She teased as she watched him lift his head. He pressed their foreheads together, and he sighed overdramatically before pushing himself upward.

Homelander watched her hands drop to the hem of the shirt as she sat up on the bed. He smoothed down his shirt and wrapped the tie around his throat before pulling up his collar, "Will you be a good girl when I'm gone, then?" He asked with a huskier voice than earlier.

Annie batted his hands away to help tie his tie. She smoothed the silk tie as she went through the motions. She tried not to acknowledge the purr in his voice when he asked if she'd be a good girl, something in her stomach coiled at the way he said it. It made her cheeks brighten as she avoided his eyes. "You do know when the club closes? You're not going to be handling business for that long, right?" She asked, ignoring his earlier question.

Homelander looked down at his tie as he adjusted it around his throat. She did a surprisingly good job. He might stop tying them all together if she sticks around—when she sticks around. He grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger, and he tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. They crinkled as he flashed her a fangy smile, "I'll be back and I'll make sure I'm here before the club closes. Once I take care of business, you'll be able to go back to your schedule you had before you met me, okay?"

Annie nodded in his grasp as he gave her a parting kiss goodbye. She watched him step back and go into the closet for his matching suit jacket, which he slid on. Her eyes widened when she realized his gun was on the dresser by his bedroom door. "Are you taking that too?" She asked as he walked back into the room from his closet.

Homelander saw where her eyes were drawn, picked it up, checked his magazine and barrel, then tucked it into his waistband beneath his jacket. "I think you know the answer, don't you, sweetheart?" He said, glancing back at her before he left the room, "Make sure to pick up when I call. If you don't and I make it up here, you'll have to wait tomorrow to see your friends, Annie." He warned with a slight grin.

Annie bit her bottom lip to hide her smile. She nodded as she watched him turn on his heel to leave. She heard the elevator from his bedroom and collapsed backward onto his bed. She stared up at the mirrored ceiling, deciding what to do. She technically had a whole day to herself in the penthouse. What could she do? She could snoop around, but she was sure she wouldn't find anything here; wherever his office was, she'd have a better chance.

She huffed and decided she could sleep, but her stomach grumbled, demanding she eat.

While Annie was resting upstairs, Homelander stood in the lobby, checking his watch as he waited for his ride outside. He really needed to start choosing better people to come along to his 'meetings', but the only person who'd be on time would be Klara, and he wasn't sure that it would be good to be alone with her.

Especially, now that he hadn't been touched by anyone but himself, how would he get Annie to trust him if he turns around and fucks the first woman who offers to help him out? An asshole. He's a monster, he's evil, the Devil, flat-out menacing and cruel, but a cheater? That's like being a liar; none of those are acceptable in his eyes.

Homelander walked through the lobby, and some people greeted the Vought CEO with a nod or a wave. He usually never left through the front door unless he was being picked up, which was his reasoning now.

Kevin Moskowitz pulled in front of the building and took several moments to parallel park before turning on his hazard lights. Homelander looked at his man and sighed. Moskowitz was good at breaking the tension or ice; he was great at doing that, but everything else was a dud. He was like a stupid dog that nipped at his heels, but Homelander wouldn't get rid of him just yet.

Moskowitz opened the door by leaning across the console and shoving the passenger door open wide, "Homie! Howdy, Boss man." He greeted with a grin that stretched from one side of his face to the other, "So, what are we doing today? Cracking heads? Pick-ups? Meetings? Or meetings?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Homelander stared at him with a blank face as he looked around the sidewalk at some passing pedestrians. He sighed before climbing into the Porsche. His nose crinkled once he shut the door and looked around, "It smells like… the ocean, Moskowitz. What the fuck have you been doing?" He asked as the car pulled from the side of the street.

"Oh! My girl, I think I'm gonna marry her, Homie. Anyway, you know I'm into the ocean and fish and shit like that, right? So, coincidentally, she is too. We've been talking about making our own fish tank together, like some couples do with dogs, you know?" Moskowitz said excitedly as he spoke with his hands barely steering the car.

Homelander listened to the horns of passing cars, trying to tell Moskowitz to stay in his lane or pay attention to the lights. He turned his head to stare out the window to try to block the man out. He didn't care about the fish or the new girl in his life; he tried not to care about the smell, but it was hard.

"So, I met her—she is Cassandra. She's a stripper down at Butcher's club. Anyway, I was getting a lap dance, and then I noticed—like, her outfit reminded me of the little clown fish—and I said it, and she was like, so excited. She gave me the weirdest blowie, but you know what, we can work it out, right?" Moskowitz said before glancing over, "Speaking of blowies, why am I driving you? Usually, uh, Klara does your day-to-day things? I mean, I'm not questioning you because you're the boss, but like… why?"

"Because Klara wasn't asked to drive me, Moskowitz. You were." Homelander said flatly. He hoped that Moskowitz recognized the tone in his voice, but honestly, the man was dumb. He knew he would be questioned again.

Which he was.

"So, why though? Usually, you two would go do your thing and then find us. Rumors were that you two would fuck each other's brains out. I think somebody at Vought Int. said it before. I have always wanted to ask you, did you? You know she's like German… did she moan in German?" Moskowitz asked, looking from the road to Homelander.

Homelander didn't want to think about Klara. He barely wanted to leave his penthouse; he was trying to see how many more boundaries of Annie's he could break. He was positive he's closer to getting invited to join her in his bedroom to sleep before getting in her pants, but either way, it's a win in his book. "The road, Moskowitz." He gestured at the windshield, hoping his voice didn't betray his annoyance.

"Yeah, I got you, Homie." Moskowitz nodded as he turned to look at the street. He drove for a little while before he glanced over, "So, Klara and you…? Did you two fuck? Are the rumors true? Or is that a water fountain joke at the office? Do I need to work full-time to find out? Should I try to find the intern and ask them where they heard it?"

Homelander sighed as he stared at the red light that Moskowitz blew through. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Kevin…" He rarely said the man's first name unless he was seconds from snapping. "I said, watch the road. Do not ask me anything about Klara again. I don't like repeating myself. Got it?"

Moskowitz nodded before turning toward the road again. Homelander could hear the gears in the man's head. He watched his mouth open in the corner of his eye, "Okay, so, the bartender then. You fuck her? We—me, Reggie, and EJ both noticed she hasn't been at the bar. Butcher doesn't answer questions. So, like, did you fuck her and break her heart? She's the blonde one with brown eyes and dick sucking lips. You know which one I'm talking about, right?" He rambled as he took a hard right that almost had Homelander hit his head on the window.

Dick sucking lips? He thought about yelling at Moskowitz, but there was some merit to it. Not that he's openly inviting him to talk about her, but Homelander's imagined those very lips that way. He only grunted and ignored that statement.

Homelander pressed his lips to a thin line as he thought about Annie on the balcony. Oh, she was ready if she just gave in. She looked up into his eyes and said, Can she go to bed instead. He wondered what she did after she left him alone. He took care of his problem and jerked off, but he assumed that she did too.

He realized what Moskowitz was saying, and he scowled, "You think I'm fucking around and hurting people? You think I fucked her and left her alone, and she quit? Do you think that I would do that?" He growled through clenched teeth.

Moskowitz shrugged at him as they neared the police station, "I mean, you did it to Klara, right?" He asked without looking at him as he pulled into a handicap space hazardously. The car was at an angle and not between the lines. He met Homelander's eyes and stared, "Do you know what happened to her? Cassandra misses her; she thinks the other girl is mean because she doesn't speak."

“Kimiko Miyashiro? Her? She's fucking mute, Moskowitz. You need to do sign language or let her read your lips or fucking write a note to her." Homelander said, exasperated. He opened the door and inclined his head for Moskowitz to follow. "You met a stripper and thought she'd make a great girlfriend, and brought her to your place, and now you're raising fish? How long have you known Cassandra?" He asked, knowing he shouldn't delve deeper into Moskowitz's fucked up life.

Moskowitz climbed out of the car, shut the door, and sounded the alarm to make sure it was locked. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, "Well, I've known Cassandra on and off for a year. But I think we really took it to the next level, like three months ago? That's when I got a lap dance and the weird blowjob. And she kept finding me after that, so I felt like that was a sign." He admitted before moving his hand from his pocket to clasp Homelander's shoulder, "Wait until you find your girl. Then we can all be best friends and double date."

Homelander would rather get caught and suffer life behind bars than double date with Kevin Moskowitz; he'd rather every single last crime he got away with came back and ruined him tenfold, he'd rather have every single one of his enemies and people he's killed, relatives have a turn on him like he was a piñata than to double date.

"Moskowitz, I am your boss. Not your friend. Now, let go of me and come on." Homelander said in a bored tone as he shrugged the man's hand from his shoulder. He looked up at the precinct; they were on the Lower East Side. He honestly hadn't thought about Ed Flanagan since he got the former mayor to elect him as Sheriff of New York.

Now was more than a good time to remember him. After all, he had a favor to cash in.

If you shake hands with the Devil, be prepared to see him come back, taking your soul with him.

Homelander pushed open the station doors with Moskowitz following behind like a puppy trying to be a guard dog. The station was bustling with activity, and all the officers were either on their phones, writing reports, or booking some petty criminals. As soon as he entered, all eyes were suddenly on him.

Homelander could see the conversations drop, and even a few officers go stiff, each looking at each other and glancing back at the closed Sheriff's office. Ed Flanagan didn't know he was coming, and that's what made it fun for him.

The desk clerk looked up from her computer and immediately froze when she locked eyes with him, "Um… hello, s-sirs… c-can I help you?"

Homelander flashed a sharklike grin at the older woman. Watching the nervousness, sweat, and fear roll off the officers was like a pay-per-view. He loved this. "You don't have to do a thing besides walking me and my colleague to Sheriff Flanagan's office. We have an appointment." He finished smoothly.

"Um… I have to check our…database. C-can I have your name?" The desk clerk swallowed as she asked.

Homelander hummed as he tried to hide the anger building up behind his false smile. He tapped the desk with his finger. Moskowitz was growing just as restless as he was. That's part of the reason he liked the man; he was dumber than a bag of rocks, but if he said jump, Moskowitz wouldn't hesitate to try to break the furthest jumping record. He was one of the most loyal men he had ever known.

"I don't think you quite understand me. I am so sorry. Accept my apology." Homelander said as he moved his hand from the desk to pat his chest, "I'm going to rephrase it. Walk me and my colleague to Sheriff Flanagan's office, or you'll have to worry about where your next fucking meal comes from while you're on the street." He flashed clenched teeth at the clerk, watching her nod stiffly.

"See, she's a smart cookie, right, Homie?" Moskowitz sneered, "I know I wouldn't give up my desk job that pays for my living just to stop two of Flanagan's friends from visiting. But that's just me."

The desk clerk stood up and walked slowly past the several officers' desks; they didn't dare raise their heads to meet Homelander's eyes. They kept their heads down while he walked behind the clerk. Moskowitz chuckled to himself as he thought of all the Hell they could raise.

Homelander only rolled his eyes as the clerk stopped before the Sheriff's door. He stared at the faded crest on the door, which was peeling and scratched to barely legible. All the money that New York made, and this precinct still looked like something from the 50s, was outstanding. "Thank you." He said to the clerk watching her all but flee from them. He opened the door and ushered Moskowitz in before he followed.

Ed Flanagan was a white haired, balding man with his uniform stretched over his gut. The beer belly was hidden by the desk, but everyone knew what he looked like. The man smelled like cigarettes and stale beer, and his eyes had been bloodshot since being awarded the position of Sheriff of New York. He and his wife were going to move upstate had he not been appointed, but the right calls, the right strings being pulled, and the right man backing him, he didn't need to consider moving. He won the moment he shook hands with the man standing in his office.

"Jackie, doll, we can take lunch later. I gotta get through this." Flanagan muttered as he remained hunched over some paperwork.

Homelander raised his eyebrows and gestured for Moskowitz to take a seat in front of his desk. He moved behind the other seat and grasped the back of it, waiting to be acknowledged. He wanted to see the fear on his face when he realized who was here. He could already hear the piss running down Flanagan's leg.

"Dammit, Jackie! I—" Flanagan looked up, and he went paler than he should've. He froze at his desk, holding his ink pen. He leaned back and tried to stand too quickly, but Homelander moved one of his hands from the chair to hold out, keeping him seated.

"Sheriff, why so nervous?" Homelander asked as he tilted his head, "Aren't we… friends? Friends should be able to pop in on each other, no?"

Moskowitz was always the friendlier of the two when they had to shake some people down. It worked for them. He flashed Flanagan a crooked smile, "How's the Mrs? She know you banging Jackie-O out there? Didn't know you had it in you, old dog."

Flanagan nervously glanced between them. He didn't know who to answer first as he felt himself overheating. He nervously grabbed his handkerchief to wipe his quickly perspiring forehead. "Oh, uh… of-of course, we're f-friends, Sir. I-I just wasn't expecting you…o-or this meeting?"

Homelander watched as his other hand reached for his desk phone. He snorted and inclined his head at Moskowitz. He watched as he moved from his chair to the desk in a flash. He yanked the receiver from the base and tossed it over his shoulder before settling beside him. "Now, Ed, why would you make me destroy your phone? Can't we have a friendly meeting? Just to touch base, remind you of obligations, how you got this cushy little desk job instead of rotting away upstate like you should be." His voice had started out even before drifting colder in a second.

Moskowitz watched as the Sheriff flinched. He crossed his arms as he glared down at him. "Eddie, you know we'll never hurt you…" He said as he reached out to squeeze the older man's shoulder, "We'll kill everyone you love in front of you and frame you for it, so you'd rot in prison knowing that you did time for being too much of a pussy to follow orders." He admitted with a satisfied smile.

Homelander watched Moskowitz try and fail to look important. The man was loyal as he said, but he could never be taken seriously. He's taken lives, but doing the talking like he was was not his strong suit. He always tried to look like he had something important to mention, but he didn't.

He never did.

"Ed, you know I'm a very busy man. So, let's not waste any more of my valuable time, right?" Homelander's voice had taken on a dangerous tone. His cold eyes only looked colder as he looked at the Sheriff shaking before him. "Let's cut to the chase, I need eyes on comings and goings from an apartment complex in Jackson Heights. Think of it as you being a proactive Sheriff and ensuring all of your citizens are safe."

"S-sir, with all due respect, I-I can't we're stretched thin here…" Flanagan started as he felt Moskowitz squeeze his shoulder, "I don't know how much manpower I can spare…the crime rates are climbing, the city… It's like everyone is trying to start wars in every corner of the state, Sir."

Moskowitz hummed as he spoke up, "That sounds a lot like 'no', right Homie? Don't you hate that word?" He asked as his hand tightened on Flanagan's shoulder, his thumb digging into the muscle hard.

Homelander clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, "You're right, Moskowitz, I do hate that word. But let's give Ed the benefit of the doubt, hmm? Maybe we're hearing things." He smiled as his voice remained eerily calm, "That wasn't what you meant, right, Ed?"

Flanagan shakily shook his head as his throat bobbed nervously. He tried to look anything but panicked and terrified, but he knew one wrong word could end his life. He was walking a tightrope that he never should've willingly jumped on; now, he had to perform for his life whenever Homelander stopped by. “…I’ll… I-I'll get some officers. I'll see what I can do…" He answered slowly.

Homelander clapped his hands together suddenly, watching the Sheriff damn near jump from his skin. "Great! Ed, I knew you wanted to keep this job. I knew you didn't want to disappear like the others who were vying for your position. You remember them, don't you, Ed?" He smiled widely, showing off his fangy grin.

Moskowitz nodded along as he squeezed Flanagan's shoulder again. He knew if Homelander ordered him to, he'd pull it out of the socket right then and there. "Ed, you run the streets! They treat you like a King. You're never going to get fucked over because Homie has your back. He's your buddy as long as you don't fuck up!" He said excitedly, he let go of his shoulder to slap him roughly on the back, "Wipe that look off your face, it's not like he wants your arm and leg. He just wanted your soul, you sold it for that wicked desk chair, and okay piece of ass, Jackie-O, right?" He suddenly stopped and looked at Homelander, "Is this about the bartender? The blonde? You want to make sure she's safe? That's freaking sweet of you, Homie!"

Homelander wanted to shoot himself in the face whenever Moskowitz got like this. If he wasn't acting like a surfer bro or a fish expert, he was jumping from one point to another. It was exhausting to keep up. Maybe he had ADHD or something, but whatever it was pissed him off to no end. "If I say yes, it's about the bartender, will you drop it, Moskowitz?" He asked as he tightened his fist until his knuckles cracked on one hand.

"Yeah! Duh! That's sweet of you. So, she's yours? Like totally off limits? You mustn't want anyone sniffing after her ass, huh? I mean, she had a nice ass from what I saw behind the bar, you know?" Moskowitz commented as he thought about what Annie looked like.

Flanagan nervously met Homelander's eyes. He looked at him with a slight shrug as he spoke, "Uh, J-John, sir… but you want me to take some officers off their routes and beats to watch some… broad?" He said as he tried to understand. "D-did… I… y-you weren't serious, right, Sir?"

Moskowitz hissed behind him as he repeated in a whisper, "Some broad, eh? Homie, that sounds rather rude, right?" He shrugged to himself, "Because I'd never disrespect you."

Homelander moved faster than either man could expect. A loud crack echoed in the room as he withdrew his hand. He smacked Flanagan so hard his red handprint bloomed across the older man's face almost immediately. He grabbed him by his tie, pulling, choking the man as he snatched him over his desk by it. "When I give an order, you don't question me. You do it… immediately. Unless…” He snarled through his clenched teeth, "You want out. Do you, Ed? Do you want out of our little arrangement?"

Flanagan struggled as he tried to loosen Homelander's grip. His tie only tightened around his throat, preventing him from breathing. "I-I'm s-sorry!" He wheezed once Homelander released the tie. He remained collapsed over the desk, coughing up phlegm and spitting. "I'll get it done… I'll find the officers… I'll pull them all if you need them, sir."

Homelander smiled as he watched the man's purple face slowly return to its pale state. He reached out, patting his head like one would pat a dog. "Good boy, Ed. Because if you ever get cold feet or think about questioning me again, I promise you, my face won't be the last one you see."

Moskowitz followed Homelander, smiling. He called over his shoulder, "Always a pleasure, Eddie! See you later, buddy!" They both walked from the precinct without a second glance; neither the clerk nor the fellow officers looked at them.

Moskowitz unlocked his car and looked at Homelander, "Hey, Homie, Boss, I'm going to the club to talk to Cassandra. You know how chicks are, she'll think I'm cheating on her if I don't visit. You wanna come with or you want me to drop you off at the penthouse?" He asked as he opened his door and climbed in.

Homelander adjusted his suit and cufflinks as he opened the door and settled in the seat. He shook his head, "The penthouse. I have something to take care of over there." He said, thinking about what Annie was doing, especially since he's been gone for a while. He looked in the side mirror at himself and wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

Right now, he was filled with blood lust and excitement, his pupils dilated like they were on the balcony.

He couldn't wait to see her.

Chapter Text

Annie hadn't moved since he left that morning. She still lay in the spot he left her, except she was sprawled out like a starfish as she stared at her reflection in his mirrored ceiling. She had been so bored since he left, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw his smirk or heard his cocky voice as he wished her a good night.

She wondered what would've happened had she let him continue to touch her. Would he have pulled her to bed? Would he have taken her outside right then and there? Would he have used his mouth on her like he was peppering her skin with kisses?

Annie blushed as she remembered him sucking on his index finger that he had in her panties, the way he locked eyes with her as he did so. She shivered as she saw him on replay in her mind. She groaned as she realized that she was growing wet at her thoughts.

Then she felt cold water dash over her when she realized how she sounded when she asked if she could go to bed. She basically ran past Homelander as soon as he let go of her wrists and pulled his finger from her panties.

"That was so embarrassing! Oh my Gosh!" Annie complained as she grabbed one of his pillows to shove over her face. She screamed into it before clutching it to her chest. All of her thoughts stemmed from Homelander leaving for a few hours now. Her thoughts, the same ones that drove her out to the balcony, were driving her crazy again.

She sat up with the pillow still clutched between her arms, and she tossed it to the side before getting up. She couldn't spend all day in his room, moping about what didn't happen because she chickened out. She padded into the living room, her feet were soundless on the hardwood flooring.

Annie hated to admit it, but she needed to find a distraction. She couldn't just think about him until he got back. She should be thinking about seeing her friends again, but she had to see him first and convince him to take her to the club. What if he came back grouchy or tired and didn't want to leave like he had this past week?

The living room looked empty without him there. He'd usually take up a corner spot on the sectional, one of his feet kicked up on the ottoman in front of him, with his head tilted back. Now, it was just a large empty couch. Annie could see the news playing on the TV, but it was muted. The kitchen looked spotless, as if no one had used it, and the dining room seemed to be there for decoration. She hadn't seen Homelander go near the table at all.

She sighed as she switched from lying on the bed in his bedroom to lying on his couch now. Then she realized it was the first time she was alone without him watching her. If he had anything hidden, now would be the time to find something.

Annie smiled as she pushed off the couch with new energy. She roamed the living room, looking for any personal touches. There was none there, the dining room or the kitchen. There were three extra doors off the living room that she could check; she knew the open door down the hall was Homelander's room.

She went to one of the doors near the elevator and opened it. It was nothing special—just an extra bathroom. The door next to it was no more surprising; it was a guest room. But the thought made her eyebrows furrow. He had a guest room, but she was sleeping in his bed. She could've had that room.

Annie was going to bring it up later when she saw him. There is no way Homelander didn't realize she'd be getting into things while he was away. She was snooping and felt like this would be the only thing to pass the time. The last door she opened was an office.

It smelled like him, expensive with a dash of whiskey. There were several bookshelves filled with countless books, papers were stacked on his desk, and he had a large decanter of liquor beside an empty glass. Annie slowly walked in as she ran her fingers along his desk, humming at how impersonal his workspace was. There were only two places to sit, a small leather loveseat and his desk chair.

She was about to leave when she noticed multiple frames on his desk. She walked around to sit on his desk chair to look at the pictures. Several of them looked faded. A boy stood beside a man in a military uniform, who held a woman close. Another was just the couple from the picture.

Annie smiled as she picked up a frame that showed a fat-cheeked, blue-eyed baby. She smiled as she stared at his baby picture. She could tell his parents must've been in love with him; in every picture with them, Homelander was always in someone's arms or held between them.

She eventually put the frame down and heard her stomach growl. She sighed as she left his office, closing the door behind her.

Annie went toward the kitchen and immediately opened the fridge door. She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the heavily stocked icebox. She thought he was lying when he said it was filled. All these options were overwhelming as she stared at them.

She decided on the simplest thing she could find. She grabbed the box of fresh strawberries and used her hip to shut the door. She opened the plastic and walked toward the kitchen sink.

Annie, zeroed in on washing her strawberries, didn't hear the elevator ding, announcing his arrival. She hadn't even heard his shoes on the hardwood as he caught up to her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and before she could turn around, strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her into their body.

Annie went stiff as the man pressed himself against her back, trapping her to him. She had alarm bells going off in her head, but they faded when she felt his familiar nose nuzzling behind her ear.

Homelander spoke in his usual low murmur. "Missed me, Annie?" He asked before kissing the back of her ear. He nibbled on her ear, causing her to drop some of her strawberries at the feeling. He felt her move back into him, moving her head to allow him access.

Annie closed her eyes as he moved away from her ear to kiss down her throat. She dropped some more strawberries as she tried to continue washing them, "J-John… I’m… wait…” She trailed off with a whine as his hand slipped down to the hemline of the shirt she wore.

Homelander slid his hand back up from the hemline to her hip. He squeezed before stepping back and letting her catch her breath. He smiled when she turned around to glare at her, "What?" He asked, feigning innocence.

Annie huffed as she gestured to the ground. There were several strawberries scattered around. She kneeled to gather and pick them up, "You made me drop half the strawberries! And then you took forever to come back and… it's not even close for Butcher to open the club. What are we going to do for the next few hours?" She asked with a pout.

Homelander looked down at her kneeling and grinned wider. He wondered whether Annie knew she looked good on her knees. He thought she looked perfect to him. He wondered if she noticed how blown wide his pupils were. He knew he needed a release before he functioned regularly.

Homelander could imagine her caving in and letting him use her. She was crying out his name. Her dripping and soaking his bedsheets, how swollen her lips would be again, much like when they kissed on the balcony. He shook the thoughts from his head as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the middle island counter, watching her. "What do you suggest we do?" He questioned as he held his hand out to help her stand.

Annie took his hand in hers and smiled before turning her back to him to rewash the strawberries. She had already spent a week with him; it's not like she could spend a few more hours until the club opened. They had 8 hours to kill until the club opened at 10. She had no clue what they could do, and she didn't want to risk looking back at him while he looked at her with those eyes of his. She cleared her throat without looking at him as she spoke, "Um… we could…" She started before trailing off, because what could they absolutely do that would distract him from touching her for 8 hours? "We could… I don't know… watch a…movie?" She suggested while chancing a glance back.

Homelander hummed as he considered it. What he really wanted to do was work off the extra energy he had right now. If Ed Flanagan weren't his Sheriff and just a random low-level criminal, he would've burned through this energy by now. Probably would've punched him a few times, some roughhousing, but since he had to restrain himself, he was fully charged. He licked his lips, thinking of no better way than by hiking his shirt up on her frame and bending her over any surface he found. "A…movie…? Some movies last…8 hours?" He questioned while studying her.

Annie collected the strawberries and looked around for the bowl she had set out. She turned to find it next to Homelander on the other island. She slowly walked toward him to grab the bowl and fill it with the cleaned strawberries, "Um, not exactly… it can be like a mini movie marathon. We can watch like… a bunch of movies…" She mumbled as she clutched the strawberry bowl to her chest

Homelander hummed noncommittally as he reached for a strawberry. He held it, his teeth biting into the meat as its juices ran down his bottom lip before a swipe of his tongue collected it. He chewed as he considered her suggestion, "Movie marathon? You want to spend this Saturday afternoon with me… watching movies?" He tossed the green stem into the plastic container that the strawberries had initially been in. "You can't think of anything… better to do with our time, Annie?"

Annie was having a hard time breathing because of how he was eating his strawberry. How was she enthralled that easily? She watched him lick his lips, and it made her stomach do flips. She wanted to press her thighs together, but then he'd know. She looked down at her feet while she tried to calm her now-warming cheeks. She had to go before he touched her, and it was too late. She felt her head being tilted up so she could stare at him. His firm grip only darkened her cheeks.

Homelander held her jaw in his hand, his thumb stroking over her skin, "You can't think of a better way for us to pass the time?" He asked playfully while he watched her blush. He liked how easily she could go from pale to red at a moment's notice. It made his cock twitch in his pants.

"I-I… J-john, um… we can talk about…” Annie suddenly found herself staring into his lust-filled eyes. She didn't want to do anything to provoke him. Sure, he stopped on the balcony, but will he do it again? That's what she wanted to know. Why was she second-guessing this? She wasn't a virgin; she'd had sex countless times before her mother got sick. She knew she wanted him, but she couldn't just give in. Maybe it's because their relationship is feeling like they're a couple, but they aren't doing couple things. They don't really talk; they'll interact, but he kept his mouth closed most of the time. He's sneaky, taking calls and texting, and brushing it off. She knows he's dangerous, but context would be nice.

All of her wants, needs, and insecurities were rearing their ugly heads.

"We can talk about how you have a guest room, but you put me in your bedroom. Is this a sick game or something? Did you do that to make me smell like you or something? Why couldn't I sleep in there, huh?" Annie accused as she set the strawberries aside. She knew they could argue; she was stubborn, and he had an ego. This could last longer than any movie could.

Homelander dropped her jaw at the sudden switch. He frowned suddenly as he blinked at her, "What? Where did this come from? And you've been busy, you're sneaking around my penthouse, huh?" He matched her energy as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Annie glared at him and shrugged, "I wasn't snooping. There wasn't anything to do! You left me in here like some caged animal." She shoved past him, grabbed her bowl of strawberries, and walked to the living room. As soon as she sat down on the sectional, she noticed him following her. "So, tell me what you're hiding. A wife? A secret child? You said you don't bring women to your home… so, have you lied to me?"

Homelander watched her get comfortable before turning on his heel and opening the fridge. He dug around briefly before finding a container of whipped cream and walking over to her, "No. I'm not married. No, I don't have a secret child." He held the whipped cream out to her, and she grabbed it.

"Thank you…" Annie interrupted him as she opened it, then dipped one of her strawberries into the white filling.

"I haven't lied to you. I said, 'I don't like the thought of people being in my home.’' I never said I didn't bring them here." Homelander answered matter-of-factly, which made Annie glare at him. She shifted on the couch, resting one leg beneath her ass, and stretched her other leg. He wondered whether she wore shorts or was content to be bare like this, especially around him.

"Oh, what are you, a freaking elephant? You can remember everything you said up to the hour or something?" Annie said, rolling her eyes at him. She forgone the strawberries to dip her finger in the whipped cream to lick it free from her skin.

Homelander stared at her with a hungry look in his eyes as he watched her. He adjusted his pants, pulling at them as he took a seat on the sectional beside her, "A man like me has to have a good memory. I don't need my alibis crossing paths; they shouldn't. I can't leave it up to my men to remember bodies they've buried; everything falls on me, sweetheart." He reached out, swiping the whipped cream from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, "Tell me what exactly I'm lying to you about. I don't like liars, and I don't like being accused of being one." He finished as he sucked his thumb clean.

Annie shifted away from him and wedged her body in the corner of the sectional. She kept the bowl of strawberries between them as she eyed him warily. "Let's talk about the balcony… then…" She muttered, knowing this was going to open a door she'd won't be able to close. She might as well be dragged through it by him rather than someone else.

"What do you want to know? It's a nice balcony, I had a hot tub commissioned on it for the spring and summer months, but I'm barely at the penthouse to enjoy it." Homelander answered her with a smile. She knew he was doing that to annoy her; she didn't want to know about his furnishing habits. She poked him in the thigh with her big toe. "What? Did you mean something else? You're going to have to jog my memory…"

Annie tilted her head at him and frowned; she couldn't even find the humor in his sentence. "John, be serious. You just said you remember alibis and where you buried some bodies. You know exactly what I'm talking about…" She mumbled as she fumbled for another strawberry to munch on. She wasn't even hungry, but as long as she didn't have free hands. If she did, she'd fidget and betray the false confidence she hoped she was pushing out.

Homelander only lifted her foot to rest across his thigh, his thumb traced the arch while he raised his eyebrows, "The balcony? Something else happened there? I don't recall, Annie. Maybe you could help enlighten me…" He said as he shifted closer to her on the couch, his large hand kneading the arch of her foot.

Annie tried to keep her eyes open as she glared at him. But his kneading was forcing them to flutter, "Y-you… gosh, you touched me while we were out there… I…” She pressed her foot further into his hand as a low whine slipped from her lips.

Homelander watched as she exposed the length of her neck as her head tilted back. He smiled as he leaned in to mouth there. He felt her shiver under his tongue and teeth as he teased the skin there, his hand left her foot to slide up her ankle and calf. "Where did I touch you…?" He muttered against her skin.

Annie struggled to keep her eyes open, his mouth was sucking on her skin, and his hand was slowly skating up her leg. Her hand shot down to grab his wrist. She intended to stop him, but she parted her thighs. The rough callouses on his hand tickled and made her thighs tremble as she guided his hand further up her leg. "Your h-hand… f-finger was in my… t-then we stopped."

Homelander let her guide his hand; if she wanted to go at her pace, he'd follow. He hummed as he tried to move the neckline of his shirt from her collarbones. He gave up and kissed whatever exposed skin he could reach. "My fingers were in your what?" He asked as he felt the edge of her panties. He wanted to dip under the cotton so bad.

Annie tightened her hand around his wrist as she whined. She barred her throat as he continued marking the skin there. She felt his hand move, and it dipped beneath the wet cotton. He cupped her pussy in his hand, making her stiffen, "I…um, l-like this… in my-y pan-ties…" She said as she shifted, the bowl of strawberries was forgotten somewhere above her head as she lay along the length of the couch. She finally opened her eyes to stare at him.

Homelander shifted so he lay on his side against the back of the sectional. He met her eyes and smiled as he leaned in to kiss her. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, mapping it out and trying to commit her to memory. When he pulled away, he couldn't get far before she reached for his tie and pulled him back to her lips. He chuckled against her lips while his thumb stroked over her clit.

Annie gasped and pressed her forehead into his as she tried to hide her whine. She buried her face in his throat as he moved his thumb back and forth. "J-John…" She whined again as he pulled back to look down at her.

"Annie…" Homelander started as he kissed her forehead, his index finger slipped down the length of her folds. He eased his finger toward her entrance, "On the balcony… after you left… did you touch yourself? Did you get off?" He asked as he propped himself on his elbow. He watched her face as he pressed the tip of his index finger against her, but it did not sink in.

"Y-yes…" Annie whimpered as she moved her face into his throat. She nodded her head as her fingers tightened around his tie. “I…came in… the s-shower…I was so wet, John… I wanted…" She trailed off; she couldn't tell him that she wanted him to keep going. God, imagine if her mother could see her, billionaire, philanthropist, successful under 40, mafia, murderer, man with his fingers threatening to curl inside her.

Threatening?

Promising.

She wanted them inside her, even if she had to beg him right now.

Homelander's fingers didn't move much after she admitted she'd come after she went inside. He was stiff beside her and waited for her to pull her face from his throat; he needed to see her face. He pulled his hand from her panties and gripped her face with the same wet digits, "Look at me…" He muttered lowly.

Annie squinted her eyes open. She frowned at his wet fingers on her face. "Y-yes?" She asked, trying to turn her head, "What…?" She questioned as she watched him kneel between her thighs.

Homelander grabbed the bowl of strawberries and put it on the ottoman next to the whipped cream container. He shoved the ottoman, and it rolled across the hardwood floor. "Do you want this? Do you want me to keep going?" He asked as he undid his cufflinks and loosened his tie around his throat.

Annie nodded as her toes trailed up his thigh. She tried to squeeze him through his pants. She smiled as she moved up on her elbows, propped up, "Yes, but…" She stopped as she looked at him.

Homelander heard the but and almost deflated. These rules were going to kill him. She was doing a better job at killing him than his enemies. He sat back on his folded knees, "But?" He questioned as his hands went to his belt to unbuckle and pull it free from the loops. It clattered to the ground, the buckle making the most noise.

Annie swallowed, not knowing how he'd feel once she said it. "Um, don't… not full sex, but everything else is fine…?" She suggested, and he tilted his head at her. She supposed he was trying to figure out what she meant. It was embarrassing to say out loud; she felt like a virgin fooling around again, but sex changed a relationship. What would happen after things are settled? Their forced proximity ended. Would he still like her? "Just don't go all the way inside me…"

Homelander raised his eyebrows as he considered her words. Not inside her, so she didn't want him to fuck her yet. He felt his cock twitch and sighed, before smiling, "Okay. I won't… I promise… just my fingers and…” He licked his lips, "My mouth? Is that fine with you?" He asked as he grabbed her foot. He kissed her ankle before propping it over his shoulder.

Annie breathed heavily as she nodded, "Um… oral? Yeah… oral is um… fine…” She said before biting her bottom lip. She threw her arm over her eyes to try to block out what he was doing, but she felt his hands hike up his shirt.

Homelander smiled wolfishly at the newly exposed skin. He ran his fingers down her stomach, watching her suck in as they ghosted to the top of her panties. He grinned at the sight of her soaked panties. Her pussy was drenched and made the cotton cling to her; he could see her swollen folds through the white material.

He grabbed her ankle from his shoulder and set it down. He switched to hold the other ankle and lifted it over the back of the couch. He spread her out beneath him, all while watching her try to hide her flushed face from him.

He'll let her hide for now.

"You know, when I licked my finger clean on the balcony that night… I've never tasted anything as sweet as you, Annie." Homelander said as he dropped his head to kiss her sternum below the bunched material of the shirt. "You're so soft." He murmured to her as his hands skated down her sides. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her wet panties and tugged them down.

Homelander watched her raise her hips so he could bring them down the swell of her ass. The seat of her panties clung to her pussy but eventually gave way as he eased them down her legs and over her feet. He dropped them beside his belt on the floor, and he sat back to gaze over her uncovered lower half.

Annie felt him prod her hipbone; she raised her arm up a bit to groan at what he was tracing. "Oh my Gosh!" She said, covering her face again. She felt him continue to trace the small group of stars there. She couldn't believe that she was naked enough that her one long-term secret from her mother was revealed to another person. She had gotten it after she broke up with her last boyfriend and before her mother was sick.

Her mother's little Starlight, her superstar.

Well, her mother's Starlight was going to come a few times by a man that she has conflicting feelings for. So, good job, Annie. Making her mother proud while lying beneath a man who could ruin lives in a snap of his fingers.

"A tattoo? I'm learning more and more about you, Annie." Homelander said smugly as his breath ghosted over it before kissing the faded ink. He pulled back to smirk, "So, why didn't you tell me you had this on the balcony? I told you I love to watch the stars."

Annie moved her arm so she could bury her face in her hands. He was making this even worse for her. She hadn't been so embarrassed like this in a while, "J-John!" She whined behind her hands, "J-just… start it… go…”

Homelander chuckled as he slipped down the length of her body. He shifted so he lay on his stomach between her thighs, moved his hands beneath them, and raised them so her legs rested on his shoulders. His face was directly in front of her pussy. He hummed playfully, "Look at how fucking beautiful you are…" He breathed out as his lips brushed over her inner thigh. He sucked at the meat of it and pulled back, watching the purple bruise bloom.

Annie felt him between her thighs, sucking at the skin there, but he hadn't moved to where she needed him. She was too scared to glance down. What if she met his intensely cold eyes? Would they be able to talk her into going further? Would she want to? She risked a peek down between her spreading fingers, and all she saw was Homelander staring between her thighs like she was a painting hung up in a museum. Like Michelangelo carved her from stone, especially for him.

God, she was losing a battle she hadn't signed up for. If this were more than a fling, she wouldn't be able to trust herself with having a partner who was obsessed with her.

Annie met his gaze through her spread fingers. Not a color of that intense glacier blue remained; his pupils were blown wide as he stared at her. She felt the tips of his fingers ghost over her swollen folds; she felt some moisture leak out of her. She tried to move to avoid staining his couch, but he only hiked her closer by her ass.

Homelander put his hand on her stomach to pin her down to the sectional. He grinned as he looked up at her from between her thighs. "Stay still…" He murmured as he blew a stream of air over her pussy, watching her flinch. He blew another stream just to feel her thighs shake. He reached forward with his free hand to spread her folds with his thumb and index finger. He watched more moisture seep from her.

He hummed as he watched her head tip backward. He withdrew his hand to lick his thumb and index finger, cleaning her juices from his digits. He used his thumb to swipe over her clit. "I just know you're gonna make the sweetest noises, Annie," Homelander said as he dipped his head down.

Annie braced herself as his tongue made contact where his thumb had just left. As soon as he flattened his tongue on her clit, the noises she was trying to hold back escaped from the back of her throat. "Oh God!" She cried out as her toes gripped the back of his shirt. Her heels pressed into his spine as her back arched.

Homelander lapped at the bundle of nerves while his fingers dragged up and down the length of her pussy, never pushing in. He teased her entrance as he continued to lick at her clit. He used the end of his tongue to circle the nub before moving down. His hand held her down by the stomach, and he could feel her tightening beneath him.

Annie felt her toes curl as she chased his mouth. She couldn't help but rock into his tongue as he licked her. Her hands flew from her face to grasp his hair, and the moans spilled from her lips as she gave in. "I need… John. More…” She babbled nonsense while trying to steer his head where she needed it. What she really needed was a finger or two inside her while she rocked her hips.

Homelander glanced up at her and grinned at the way her mouth gaped, the silent tears slipping down her cheeks as she tried to hold him steady. He could feel her nails gripping his scalp. He moved his hand from her stomach to slip underneath her body to grab her ass. He managed to lift her at an angle. He moved his tongue down over to her entrance before stabbing it inside her.

Annie felt like her back was going to snap. She choked on a gasp as he fucked his tongue in and out of her. She could feel the tremors building as something in her stomach tightened. Her walls fluttered, and her whole body began to tremble, as if she were freezing. She cried out his name, and she was sure that if they weren't on the top floor, someone would've been banging on the roof. "JOHN!" She whimpered as she came from his tongue fucking inside her.

Homelander groaned as her walls clamped down around him. He eased his tongue from her to greedily lap up her fluids. He shifted, moving both his hands to the backs of her thighs and lifting her, folding her body almost in half as her knees touched her chest. He sucked loudly on her drenched pussy, and Annie was too boneless to care about the lewd noises he was making.

Annie was content to lie there while he licked at her still. She could hear the squelching of his mouth on her pussy and didn't care at this point. She finally let go of his hair and let her arms fall to the side of her body. She hissed when she felt a pain in her thigh; her eyes shot to Homelander, pulling his teeth from the meat of her inner thigh.

Homelander licked his lips soundly before rising back to his knees, her legs falling on either side of him as he unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. A clattering drew Annie's attention, and he glanced over at his gun, which fell out from its place behind his back, tucked in his waistband. He picked it up and set it by her panties and his belt.

Annie's eyes were drawn to the large tent in his boxer briefs. She stared at the wet spot forming near the top left of his waistband. She shakily sat up and reached out to trace his covered cock with a finger. She flickered her eyes up to his through her eyelashes, "Y-you need help with that…?"

Homelander watched her small fingers trace over his trapped cock, he watched his cock jump, only to be contained in its fabric prison. He shifted back from her touch to reach inside his briefs. He fished his cock out through the opening in front as he sat back on the sectional. He leaned back and wrapped a hand around the base, holding it upright.

Annie suddenly stared at him with a dry throat. She swallowed as she shifted on the couch to sit beside him on her knees. She smiled as she turned her head to kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips; she couldn't narrow down what she tasted like. She knew not to ask him because he'd probably go with some fantasy answer about something like she tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten.

Annie kissed him the same way he did earlier. She teased his bottom lip between her teeth and nipped down his throat. She licked his throat, finding his Adam's apple as he swallowed. He groaned beneath her mouth, and it bobbed in his throat. She nipped at his jawline and reached forward. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing his chest.

Homelander felt Annie's hands pet his chest, her fingers brushing through his chest hair as he squeezed the base of his cock. He let her explore his body as she inched further down where he wanted her. He threw his arm out to rest on the back of the sectional as she kissed his chest. Her hand wandered down his body to join his in his lap.

Annie wrapped her hand around his cock, and she had to stop kissing his chest to focus on what she was doing. Her hand could barely close around his girth. She tried her best to stroke him with one hand before she shifted on the couch. "Scoot back…" She muttered and caught his eyes.

Homelander glared at her before scooting back against the sectional, making room between his thighs. He let go of his cock, so both arms stretched along the back of the couch. He gave her his full attention as his chest slowly rose and fell.

Annie rolled her eyes at his glare before carefully moving to sink to the floor between his spread legs, all without letting go of his cock. She brought her other hand up to wrap around him, joining the first. She moved her hands faster, stroking from tip to base as she smiled up at him through her eyelashes.

Homelander tried to keep his eyes open, but they fluttered closed as his head lulled backward, exposing his love-bitten neck. He felt her hands moving up and down with the help of his precome wetting his length. He could feel his balls starting to draw upward, his stomach clenched, and he swore his cock grew harder beneath her hands. "Fuckkkk." He drew out between his lips.

Annie could feel his cock throbbing in her hands. She looked down to stare at him. His tip was almost red with need and was leaking precome like a faucet. He was thick enough that she needed two hands to grasp him, and his length, well, he looked long. She twisted her hands in opposite directions as she slid them down.

Homelander grunted, and his hands gripped the cushions of the sectional. His jaw tightened before he groaned again, his body slipped down into the sectional until his back was mainly on the seat, and his head was at an angle.

Annie's hands went to his thighs as she inched forward and steadied herself. She watched his cock twitch as it fell forward toward his stomach. She leaned against one of his thighs while one of her hands grabbed his cock again. She flickered her eyes up to see him watching her through heavily lidded eyes. She licked her bottom lip before smiling, "Does it feel good, John?" She whispered, her breath fanning over his cock, making it twitch.

Homelander couldn't hear anything besides the rush of blood in his body filling his cock. He swore he could hear his heartbeat and hers working in tandem. Her breath on his cock made his breath hitch. He nodded slowly, "So fucking good, Annie…" His voice was huskier than usual.

Annie kept eye contact as she stuck out her tongue, she drew his cock toward the wet muscle and slapped it against her. She held his cock still while her tongue teased the underside of his cockhead. She tongued the glands, and she watched him watching her like a hawk.

Homelander couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He wondered if she knew she had him by the balls right now. What had Butcher said, something about her turning him into a lap dog and keeping his balls in a purse and him being leashed. Maybe the Brit was right. He choked on a groan as he felt her tongue swipe over the slit of his cock. "Aw fuck… God, Annie…" He said as he moved one hand from the couch to card through her hair.

Annie felt his hand and leaned into it while she angled his cock toward her. She opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around the tip. She hummed, vibrating his cockhead in her mouth. She raised up further onto her knees and swallowed around him. She wanted to take him deeper. But it's been a while since she deepthroated anyone.

Homelander watched her, and he made sure he wasn't gripping her hair or the couch; he could replace it if he tore a seam. Her movement surprised him until he realized what she was doing, "Oh fuck me." He whispered as he let his head fall backward again. Her swallowing tightened her throat around his cock, and he felt his eyes roll back.

Annie felt her throat spasm as she tried to get him deeper. He hit something that made her choke around him. She gagged and felt her eyes water. She slid backward to suck at his head and to calm herself down before swallowing him again. She panicked when she felt his hand rest at the back of her head heavily, but he didn't force her down. His fingers played through her hair while he made the most sinful noises.

She was glad she hadn't been wearing her crucifix, which her mother got her; she'd probably have to go to a church and confess this. She definitely didn't need anyone else to know that she was going to risk jaw aches and a sore throat because the noises he made were dirty.

Homelander opened his eyes to watch and was glad he did. He had gotten quite a few blowjobs in his life, some by some professionals, and he'd throw all of them away for this experience. She wasn't doing anything extra or trying to show off her skills. Annie was doing what she could, and God, it was the greatest experience of his life. The sound of her gagging almost finished him right then and there. She didn't have to sound like a pornstar to have him threatening to come.

He could see his cock bulging in her throat and knew he wasn't going to be able to hold off his orgasm. He was impressed with her trying to get his cock to fit down her throat. When she looked up at him through her eyelashes, he felt his balls tighten.

Annie's eyes were watery and her face was flushed. Her lips were stretched tight around his cock, and the setting sun behind them fell on her face, and she looked like she was an angel sent from Heaven. That was what made him finish.

"Ann—FUCK!" Homelander could barely finish her name as his balls drew up; he could feel his cock twitch deep in her throat. He let go of her hair to grip the couch on either side by his thighs, his knuckles whitened with the force of his grip. His thighs tensed beneath his dress pants as he choked out, "Annie… fuck… I'm…"

Annie's eyes stayed on his face as she felt his body tremble beneath her. She watched his face contort, his teeth clenched, barred. His cock felt like it was swelling before choking her with the first spurt of come. She put both her hands on his thighs and slowly eased herself back as she tried not to choke, but another spurt shot down her throat. That one made her cry as she struggled to breathe. He filled her mouth, and she swallowed most of it before some escaped, leaking down her chin.

Annie sat back on her haunches, letting his cock slip out of her mouth so she could wipe the leftover fluid up from her chin. She glanced at him as he melted onto the couch, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She pushed her finger in her mouth, cleaning up the rest of his come. "John?" She said his name, trying to get his attention.

"That was un-fucking—believable," Homelander muttered as he leaned forward. He cupped her face forcefully and pulled her lips to his. He kissed her, his tongue pressing between her lips as his hands moved down to her ass. He picked her up by his hold and forced her to his lap.

Annie moaned against his mouth and stroked her tongue with his while her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. She squeaked when he sat her on his lap; his cock was still poking out from the opening of his briefs, and she was naked beneath his shirt. She pulled back with wide eyes as she felt his cock twitch beneath her, "John…" She said worriedly.

Homelander chuckled as his hands greedily groped and squeezed her body, "I unfortunately am not Superman, Annie. My dick isn't automatically getting up for round two, you're safe, sweetheart." He laughed tiredly.

Annie hummed as she felt his hands slip beneath the shirt to trace her body. She gave in. She shouldn't have, but she felt like he was good somehow. Besides all the killing and running a criminal empire while smiling on magazines and talk shows, he was good. He was good to her.

She nuzzled under his jaw as his arms wrapped around her, clutching her body to his. She moved one hand down to play with his chest hair. "So, are you going to take me to see my friends at the club still?" She asked playfully.

Homelander snorted as he tucked his chin so he could kiss her forehead. He spoke against her clammy skin, "We have what… at least 6, 7 hours left before they open? We take a shower, then a nap, and I'll take you to see them. Sounds good?" He muttered softly.

Annie nodded against his lips, "I do need a nap and a shower… it sounds good to me…" She mumbled, cutting herself off with a yawn. She was tired and her jaw felt like it was dislocated, but her throat was in the most pain.

But as long as he didn't unwrap his arms from her, she could sleep like this.