The day of Christina's funeral dawns with a somber haze, the city outside the window seemingly muted in respect to the tragedy that has befallen Raven. The revealing suit, now a more modest attire for the solemn occasion, hangs in stark contrast to the vibrant colors that once adorned it during Raven's public appearances.

Homelander, aware of the delicate nature of the day, arrives early at Raven's penthouse. The air is heavy with unspoken grief as he finds her in the dimly lit living room, the revealing suit carefully folded on a nearby chair. Raven, her eyes puffy from a night spent in silent contemplation, turns to Homelander as he enters.

Without a word, Homelander envelops Raven in a hesitant embrace.

Throughout the day, Homelander accompanies Raven through the rituals of mourning. The city outside, oblivious to the personal tragedy, continues its relentless pace.

At the funeral, Homelander stands stoically by Raven's side. The reported cause of death, a heart attack, circulates among the mourners as they offer condolences to Raven.

Homelander, though not adept at navigating the nuances of emotions, attempts to provide comfort in his own way. He places a hand on Raven's shoulder, a gesture both awkward and sincere.

After the funeral, Homelander escorts Raven back to her penthouse. Homelander, a towering figure in the dimly lit room, struggles to find the right words as Raven's grief weighs heavy in the air. As the night unfolds, Homelander stays by Raven's side, a presence in the quiet solitude of her penthouse. Homelander, acutely aware of the limitations of his comforting abilities, attempts to offer solace.

In the embrace of the evening, Raven grapples with her emotions, Homelander struggles to bridge the gap between the supe he portrays to the world and the woman mourning in private. The city outside, now a tapestry of city lights, holds the weight of unspoken truths as Raven and Homelander navigate the complexities of grief in the solitude of the penthouse.

The night sky stretches above the city, a vast canvas adorned with stars that flicker like distant promises. The rooftop, a familiar sanctuary for Raven, provides a temporary escape from the labyrinth of emotions that churn within her.

Homelander joins Raven on the rooftop, his imposing figure a silent presence against the cityscape. His eyes, usually a reflection of calculated confidence, now carry a glimmer of vulnerability.

Raven, her eyes fixed on the night sky, seems lost in the vast expanse of stars. Her gaze is unblinking, as if searching for answers among the cosmic mysteries.

Homelander feels a new kind of unease in the face of Raven's grief. He watches her, a silent observer. A cool breeze sweeps across the rooftop, rustling their clothes. Homelander hesitates before placing a gentle hand on Raven's shoulder.

Raven, though aware of Homelander's presence, remains lost in the night sky. Her mind seems to drift between the stars. Homelander, usually the epitome of stoicism, feels a twinge of unfamiliar emotions as he witnesses Raven's silent struggle.

The city below, its lights flickering like a distant constellation, remains oblivious to the intimate scene unfolding on the rooftop. Homelander, his stoic facade momentarily set aside, takes a step closer to Raven. In the quiet of the rooftop, Homelander finds himself grappling with the unfamiliar terrain of empathy. Raven, her eyes still fixed on the cosmic expanse, finally allows a breath to escape her lips. Homelander, usually a master of control, lets a rare vulnerability surface in his gaze.

Homelander stands beside Raven on the rooftop, the city spread out beneath them like a glittering tapestry. Homelander, typically a figure of unwavering confidence, feels a sense of discomfort in the face of Raven's silent introspection.

"Raven," He says gently, his voice a low rumble against the night air, "Talk to me."

His hand, once a comforting presence on her shoulder, lingers in the open space between them. Raven remains silent, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Homelander, unaccustomed to being met with silence, feels a twinge of frustration.

He implores, a hint of desperation seeping into his usually controlled demeanor, " Talk to me."

A heavy sigh escapes Homelander's lips. His attempts at empathy clash with the innate narcissism that simmers beneath the surface.

"Fine," Homelander mutters, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features.

He tries to swallow his pride, a bitter pill that proves difficult to digest.

"I'm trying to be here for you, Raven," He admits, his voice tinged with both sincerity and frustration.

Raven's silence persists, a barrier that Homelander finds increasingly difficult to breach. Homelander, torn between his desire to comfort Raven and his own impatience, feels the weight of his conflicting nature. A surge of frustration courses through Homelander. He's accustomed to being the center of attention, the one who commands authority and respect.

"Fine, if you want to be alone, be my guest," Homelander grumbles.

He takes a step back, the sense of rejection gnawing at the edges of his composed facade.

As the night air lingers between them, Homelander wrestles with his internal demons as he attempts to reconcile his genuine concern for Raven with the narcissistic tendencies that define him.

A single tear glistens on Raven's cheek as she continues to gaze at the sprawling cityscape below.

Then, as if a switch has been flipped, Raven turns to face Homelander. The tear-streaked visage transforms into a composed countenance, a slight smile curving her lips.

"I'm okay," She reassures him with practiced ease, her voice devoid of the earlier traces of grief, "Thank you for being here for me."

Homelander, ever the recipient of flattery, feels a sense of gratification at Raven's words. Raven, a masterful manipulator, knows the key to Homelander's approval lies in stroking his colossal ego.

"You're incredible, you know that?" She continues, her smile widening as Homelander, like a moth to a flame, succumbs to the allure of Raven's adulation.

Homelander, momentarily blinded by the flattery, nods in acknowledgment. The revealing suit, now a silent observer, seems to echo the sentiments of the supe who once wore it proudly. Raven, adept at playing the part, leans into her role of the grateful and composed protegé.

"You mean the world to me" Raven adds, her words carefully chosen to cater to Homelander's insatiable ego as Raven weaves a narrative that aligns with the narcissistic desires of the man beside her.

Homelander, swayed by the praise, feels a surge of validation. Her gratitude, a well-crafted facade, becomes the currency that secures Homelander's favor.

"Thank you for always being there for me, Homelander," She concludes, her tone a harmonious blend of warmth and admiration.

Homelander, touched by the orchestrated display of gratitude, offers a genuine smile in return. Raven, a virtuoso in the art of manipulation, has once again played her cards masterfully.

As the city below remains oblivious to the intricacies of the rooftop drama, the revealing suit serves as a backdrop to the staged performance. Raven, the reluctant hero with a talent for theatrics, continues to navigate the delicate balance between authenticity and manipulation. Homelander, ensnared by the praise that fuels his colossal ego, stands beside her, blissfully unaware of the revealing suit's silent scrutiny.

The Seven Tower hums with the usual mix of orchestrated chaos and sycophantic whispers as the supes go about their day. Raven, referred to as Tecton, navigates the corridors with a practiced indifference. The revealing suit, once a symbol of public spectacle, has been replaced by a more modest attire, a change Homelander personally ensured after Christina's demise.

The atmosphere in the Tower is thick with unspoken tension when it comes to Tecton. The supe who once danced on the fringes of Homelander's boredom has now become a symbol of his possession, an unspoken taboo that sends shivers through the other members of the Seven. Nobody talks about the time Homelander lasered a man in half for having a picture of Tectoness in her revealing suit as his lock screen, but the chilling knowledge hangs in the air like an unspoken threat.

Homelander, a volatile mix of power and possessiveness, has made it clear that Tectoness is off-limits to the prying eyes and wandering thoughts of anyone else. Tecton, now draped in a more modest costume, walks through the halls with an air of detachment, her gaze focused straight ahead.

The other members of the Seven tread carefully around Tectoness, their interactions laced with an undercurrent of fear. The revealing suit, once a source of both admiration and envy, has been replaced, but the memory of Homelander's violent display lingers like a ghost in the Tower.

In the common area, where supes congregate between missions, Tecton finds herself the epicenter of an invisible force field. Her fellow supes, once eager to engage in banter and camaraderie, now exchange furtive glances when she enters the room.

Homelander, ever watchful, casts a looming presence over Tecton. His possessive nature, fueled by genuine feelings that have evolved beyond mere amusement, has created an atmosphere of unease. The consequences of challenging Homelander's territorial instincts remain vivid in everyone's minds.

As Tecton takes a seat in the common area, her fellow supes exchange hesitant greetings, their voices hushed– Tecton is Homelander's domain.

Deep down, Tecton resents the suffocating grip of Homelander's possessiveness, but she plays the part well. The revealing suit, a symbol of her mother's ambitions, was shed not only for Homelander but for herself. The change in costume, orchestrated by Homelander after Christina's demise, is a reflection of his evolving feelings and a calculated effort to reshape Tecton's public image.

Homelander, a formidable force with possessiveness as his shield, watches over Tecton with a proprietary gaze.

The restrooms in the Seven Tower are a strange refuge, a place where the echoes of silence can be as deafening as the cacophony outside. Raven slips into the restroom, her movements purposeful but discreet. Queen Maeve, a veteran supe with a weariness etched into her features, is already there, washing her hands.

Their eyes lock in the mirrored reflection above the sink, and an unspoken understanding passes between them. Homelander, the looming presence in their lives, renders words too dangerous. Even the walls have ears when it comes to the supe with the power of hearing.

Raven's eyes carry a weight that Queen Maeve recognizes all too well. The silent communication begins as they exchange glances, each subtle expression a brushstroke in the portrait of their shared predicament. The restroom, a sanctuary of secrecy, becomes the stage for a dance of unspoken solidarity.

Queen Maeve, her gaze steady, conveys a silent acknowledgment. The lines on her face speak of battles fought, compromises made, and the quiet rebellion that simmers beneath her composed exterior.

The faucet gushes water as Queen Maeve turns it off, her movements deliberate yet unhurried. The silence between them deepens, the unspoken conversation unfolding in the reflection of the mirror. Raven, once just a pawn in the supe game, now stands alongside a veteran who has weathered the storms of Homelander's possession.

A fleeting moment of vulnerability passes through Queen Maeve's eyes, a silent invitation to share the burdens they both carry. Raven, the reluctant hero entangled in Homelander's web, meets the gaze with a glimmer of gratitude.

They move closer, their silent conversation continuing. Raven, aware of Queen Maeve's history as the supe Homelander claimed before her, senses a silent understanding. The weight of Homelander's possessiveness is a burden they both shoulder, and in the reflection of the restroom mirror, their eyes speak volumes.

The door creaks open, and a supe enters the restroom, oblivious to the unspoken exchange between Raven and Queen Maeve. The moment of solidarity is interrupted, but the understanding lingers. Raven nods imperceptibly, acknowledging the unspoken alliance that transcends words.

Queen Maeve, her features softening for a moment, offers a subtle smile – a gesture of reassurance that carries the weight of shared experience. The restroom, witness to their silent conversation, returns to its mundane purpose as the door swings shut behind the departing supe.

The echoes of their unspoken understanding reverberate within the restroom's walls. Raven, now alone, takes a moment to collect herself. The silent alliance with Queen Maeve, forged in glances and subtle gestures, becomes a source of quiet strength in the face of Homelander's possessiveness.

As the restroom door swings open again, Raven and Queen Maeve part ways, their paths diverging but the unspoken connection lingering.

The Deep, ever the opportunist, spots her from a distance and quickens his pace to catch up. He flashes an overly enthusiastic smile, his damp hair framing his face like a misplaced seaweed crown.

"Hey, Tecton!" The Deep's voice carries an awkward eagerness that borders on desperation, "Looking great, as always. Love the new suit, very... modest."

Raven offers a tight-lipped smile, her eyes betraying a subtle irritation. The Deep, oblivious to the nuances, takes it as encouragement. He falls into step beside her, trying to match her stride.

"Listen, I was thinking," The Deep continues, undeterred by the lack of response, "We should team up sometime, you know? Water and earthquakes, it could be a killer combo!"

Raven, maintaining her composure, glances at The Deep with a forced smile. The hallway seems to stretch endlessly as she contemplates the best way to extricate herself from this unwanted conversation. The Deep, unaware of her internal struggle, presses on.

"I mean, we could make a real splash together," He chuckles at his own pun, seemingly pleased with the cleverness of his wordplay.

Raven sighs inwardly, her patience wearing thin. The Deep, a perpetual annoyance in her orbit, seems impervious to social cues. She glances at her watch, hoping to convey a sense of urgency, but The Deep remains undeterred.

"And, you know," The Deep continues, a sly grin forming on his face, "I could introduce you to some cool friends. Ever hang out with dolphins? They're surprisingly good listeners."

Raven, now openly frustrated, stops in her tracks. She turns to face The Deep, her expression stern, "Look, Deep, I appreciate the offer, but I've got things to do. Maybe another time."

The Deep, unfazed, attempts a winning smile, "Come on, Tecton, don't be like that. We could be an unstoppable duo! Think about it."

Raven, her patience worn thin, leans in closer, "Leave me alone... please."

The Deep, momentarily taken aback by her directness, stammers for a response. Before he can utter another word, the distant sound of approaching footsteps catches Raven's attention. She glances down the hallway, and her eyes widen with a mix of annoyance and concern.

Homelander strides into view, his piercing gaze fixated on Raven and The Deep. The tension in the air thickens, and Raven shoots The Deep a warning look, silently pleading for him to make a hasty exit.

Homelander, his expression unreadable, approaches with deliberate steps. The Deep, sensing the shift in dynamics, stammers out a nervous laugh, "Hey, Homelander! Just chatting with Tecton here about, you know, teaming up for some heroics!"

Homelander's eyes narrow as he turns his attention to Raven.

"Is that so?" His voice, laced with an undercurrent of possessiveness, sends a shiver down The Deep's spine.

Raven, choosing her words carefully, replies, "Just a friendly discussion. No plans for a team-up."

Homelander's gaze lingers on The Deep, his scrutiny palpable.

"Good," He says tersely, "Tecton has her priorities. You should respect that."

The Deep, feeling the weight of Homelander's disapproval, stammers out an apology, "Yeah, yeah, of course! Just throwing around ideas, you know?"

Homelander nods, his attention still fixed on The Deep, "Ideas can be dangerous, Deep. Choose your company wisely."

With a final warning glance at The Deep, Homelander turns and walks away, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Raven, now free from The Deep's persistent presence, resumes her brisk walk down the hallway. The Deep, left to contemplate the consequences of his misguided attempts at friendship, watches as Raven disappears around a corner.

As the echo of Homelander's footsteps fades, The Deep is left alone in the hallway, a humbled supe with a lesson learned. Raven, focused on her own path, continues to navigate the complex web of relationships within the Seven Tower, her determination unwavering in the face of unwanted distractions.

Raven, now accustomed to the ever-present shadow of Homelander, moves through the compound with practiced grace. The supe with the piercing blue eyes and the weight of possessiveness trailing in his wake is never far behind.

Homelander's insecurities, buried beneath layers of godlike confidence, surface in the form of a relentless proximity to Raven. As she enters the common area, her eyes scan the room, and she senses Homelander's gaze on her even before she sees him. He stands near a holographic display, his posture radiating a possessiveness that goes beyond the physical.

Raven, fully aware of the eyes upon her, continues with her strides, her gaze avoiding Homelander's as she focuses on her destination. The tension between them is palpable, a delicate balance of power and submission, veiled threats and silent acquiescence.

Homelander, ever watchful, follows Raven's every move with a calculated precision. His insecurities, a churning undercurrent beneath the veneer of godhood, drive him to maintain an almost claustrophobic closeness. He cannot bear the thought of Raven slipping away, finding solace in the company of another.

As Raven takes a seat in the common area, Homelander positions himself nearby, his eyes never leaving her. The other supes, a wary audience to the unspoken drama, exchange subtle glances. The Tower, a place of supposed unity, bears witness to the fractured dynamic that defines Homelander's possessiveness.

Raven, engrossed in her own thoughts, tries to dismiss the weight of Homelander's gaze. She engages in casual conversation with other members of the Seven, a practiced smile masking the unease that simmers beneath the surface. The Tower, a microcosm of supes vying for dominance, becomes the stage for a silent power play.

Homelander, unable to conceal the simmering insecurities, approaches Raven with a feigned nonchalance. His words carry an underlying possessiveness, an attempt to assert dominance in the subtlest of ways. Raven, her defenses raised, responds with a measured neutrality.

The other supes, sensing the tension, discreetly distance themselves from the unfolding scene. The Tower, a supposed haven for the world's mightiest heroes, becomes a witness to the complexities of relationships steeped in power and control.

Homelander, unable to quell the rising tide of his insecurities, hovers near Raven like a storm on the horizon. His attempts at casual conversation carry an undercurrent of possessiveness that Raven, ever perceptive, cannot ignore.

Raven, recognizing the thinly veiled threats in Homelander's words, remains composed. The Tower's common area, now a theater of strained interactions, witnesses the delicate dance between supe and god. The unspoken rules, governed by the laws of power and submission, leave no room for genuine connection.

Homelander's ego, a fragile construct beneath the guise of omnipotence, cannot tolerate the possibility of Raven finding solace elsewhere. His possessiveness, a manifestation of deep-seated insecurities, drives him to maintain an oppressive proximity.

As Raven rises to leave the common area, Homelander follows suit, his gaze lingering on her with a possessiveness that leaves no room for misinterpretation. The Tower, a fortress of supes, bears witness to the intricate web of power dynamics that defines the relationships within its hallowed halls. And with each step, Raven moves through the Tower, navigating the invisible constraints imposed by the god who refuses to let go.

The grand hall is a symphony of voices and clinking glasses as Vought hosts an elaborate event to secure support for their supes in the military bill. Tecton, clad in the modest suit chosen by Homelander, navigates the crowd with practiced grace. Her laughter mingles with the polite chitchat of senators, a carefully crafted facade of charm and diplomacy.

Homelander, observing from a distance, wears a smile that barely conceals the storm brewing beneath the surface. His eyes narrow as he watches Tecton engage in animated conversation, the modest suit doing little to diminish the allure of her presence. The zipper, pulled down lower than intended, catches Homelander's attention like a discordant note in an otherwise harmonious composition.

His smile tightens, a subtle shift in demeanor that heralds the storm within. Approaching with calculated steps, Homelander weaves through the crowd, his gaze fixed on Tecton. The senators, oblivious to the impending disturbance, continue to engage in lively discussion with the supe in their midst.

As Homelander reaches Tecton, his smile widens, a mask of charm that conceals the storm of possessiveness brewing beneath the surface. He places a hand on her shoulder, his touch seemingly casual but weighted with a silent command. Tectoness turns, her smile faltering for a moment as she meets Homelander's gaze.

"Excuse us, gentlemen," Homelander says with practiced politeness, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of authority.

The senators nod, their attention momentarily diverted by the towering figure of Homelander.

With a gentle yet firm grip, Homelander steers Tecton away from the group and into a secluded corner. The ambiance of the event becomes a distant murmur as they step into the shadows, and Homelander's smile fades, revealing the storm that lurks beneath.

His eyes, cold and penetrating, fixate on the zipper of Tecton's suit. The modesty intended by the design now a glaring contradiction as the lower portion hangs loose, exposing more cleavage than Homelander deems acceptable. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face taut with suppressed rage.

"Raven," He says through gritted teeth, his tone deceptively calm, "Fix that zipper. Now."

Raven, caught off guard by the sudden change in atmosphere, glances down at her suit. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she realizes the unintentional exposure. Without a word, she reaches for the zipper, attempting to rectify the perceived transgression.

But Homelander, unsatisfied with a simple correction, takes a step closer, his presence imposing. He grabs the zipper forcefully and yanks it upward, the metallic sound echoing in the corner. Raven winces, the discomfort evident in her eyes as the zipper now sits higher, the modesty restored.

Homelander, his grip lingering on the zipper, leans in with an intensity that sends a chill down Raven's spine. His breath brushes against her ear as he speaks in a low, menacing whisper, "You're not one of Vought's fuck toys. You're mine. Do you understand?"

Raven nods, her gaze averted, a sense of submission settling over her. Homelander, satisfied with his display of dominance, releases his grip and takes a step back. The storm within him, temporarily appeased, retreats beneath the surface, concealed once again by the facade of charm.

The grand hall, oblivious to the brief but intense encounter in the corner, continues to buzz with activity. Homelander, his smile now restored, guides Raven back into the midst of the event. The senators, none the wiser, resume their conversations, unaware of the orchestrated power play that transpired in the shadows.

As Homelander and Tecton rejoin the crowd, the storm within him lingers, a volatile force ready to erupt at the slightest deviation from his expectations. The Tower, a stage for supe politics, bears witness to the complex dance of power and submission, where even the most polished smiles conceal the turbulent undercurrents that define their world.

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