#my fic tag

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 1

A Homelander X F!Reader fanfic

A/N: I am writing this alongside another fic so sorry for the publishing schedule altho I got 2 chapters done, this is my dadlander fic and hyperfixation explorations

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you again, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you, and the lie that tore you two apart, but now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago? That it was his.

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter One

Blue

It had been by pure chance, whether it had been a combination of forced reminiscing and exhaustion that Homelander had thought of you after all these years; These meetings had been proven wasteful of his time, nothing the PR and Digital Marketing departments could come up that was good enough, and somehow he had gone from irritated to just defeated.

He sulked in his chair listening to their meandering voices brainstorming potential ideas as to how Ryan’s new origin story had to be developed and handled, whether it was too squeaky clean or absurd, how much could they risk offending the child, how much of his mother should be kept from the public (not that they were very aware of the fine details, as Homelander had been more than just vague about it, he had simply no intent to divulge about his son’s conception, upbringing or his mother’s fate) Homelander would never allowed the public to look with pity or fear at his son, he would not allow them to brand him as a murdered over an accident– he could still hear his son weeping and shaking in his sleep, waking up in a fright, seeing invisible blood in his hands.

Homelander had grown overprotective of the boy, he was made indestructible but his mind and heart were glass, still pure and uncorrupted by the awful world they inhabited, he would never allow anything else to taint it and bring him nightmares– so this had to be perfect.  

To make it worse, the kid was growing impatient and depressed, forced to stay in the tower until this story was concocted, he couldn’t attend school or interact with other children until he was trained and learned his lines, making his father increasingly more paranoid that his son was slowly growing resentful. 

“Mister Homelander… what if we base Ryan’s mom off one of your other ex-girlfriends?” A rather tired intern had muttered– preferably somebody dead…”

The room shot daggers at the nameless intern but Homelander simply sat in silence and gave it a thought, he had plenty of unsuited mates disposed and handled in the past, the amount of NDA issued made for a small but noticeable stack alone, he looked at the table and the box of cannolis that the group had been munching on, looking at the small printed italian flag on the box’s side.

That he thought of you for the first time in years.

You had been his new personal chef, your interactions minimal as you brought him his meals, he hadn’t known at first how heartbroken you’d look as he returned half touched dishes over and over, it had become a competition against yourself to make him eat, every leftover morself a cause of grief, as if your honor and ego had been beaten mercilessly with every dirty plate.

One evening, Homelander sat on his couch watching a documentary by Orson Wells, he hadn’t noticed you there as you brought him dinner, the way you looked at him with spite waiting to throw the most likely untouched plate of pasta back at his face, it would get you fired and possibly killed but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were a chef, a professional, you had turned down a dream job and left the restaurant you loved for the honor of being Homelander’s personal chef, the job that would open you a thousand doors but it was without reward now it felt like your biggest mistake, no matter what you made he fucking hate it but offered no feedback, you had no clue what he wanted, what he disliked and liked, what he craved, or how he liked his meals– he simply left your food untouched.

Diverting his gaze from the film, he noted your food and that you were still there with a block of pecorino and a grater in your hands.

He stood up with a groan, lifting the silver cover to reveal boring pasta and bolognese sauce, it wasn’t styled exceptionally, it didn’t even look too appetizing, it was just some fresh linguine covered in meat sauce, he stared at you as if this was some sort of joke but your dead eyed expression was off-putting.

“Would you like some fresh cheese, sir?” Your voice might as well have been automated.

Frankly he didn’t want any cheese but pasta had to be eaten with cheese, he gestured for you to grate watching an off-white pile form on top of his pasta with no intention of stopping.

“That’s enough” he said sharply, he took the plate looking at the mound and then back at you who was still in the room, he wrapped his fork with the pasta doing his best not to stain his suit.

You just wanted to save the time with coming back to pick up the insults, but there he took the first bite of this homely dish heis eyes opened up, there hadn’t been anything special, you simply had taken some left over pasta and brought a jar of your grandma’s sauce, a recipe she had guarded fiercely ever since she stole it from some italian friend’s mom many many years ago, you adored this recipe, it had been the reason why you fell in love with food, you loved visiting your grandmother when it was time to jar the sauce, and when she served you a humbled serving of bolognese– he gave it a second bite letting the tangy and fresh sauce wash over him.

And that’s when he finally noticed you for real, how closely you watched him eat, smiling as he took another mouthful and mixed more of the fresh pecorino, there had been something warm about this meal, it lack pretense, it was something that no high end 5-star restaurant would serve but it tasted… warm.

From that point on, he looked forward to his meals, wanting to see what the fuck had you done to make food taste worthy of his body, noting you would personally deliver the meals after he failed to clean the plate on the previous one, he hadn’t even known your name but he noticed you.

You were cute, your voice had gained some warmth since that awkward first impression, he could tell it was these homemade meals that tasted the best, as if you put everything you had to make them taste delicious, there were no frills with these, just good homemade fair, made with love, he had began asking for things he had been curious but never served as if they were above his status like meatloaf, carbonara, shepherd's pie, etcetera. These were the kinds of meals the families he’d seen growing up behind the screen would eat, he had been the first to strike a conversation.

You listened, you talked, and before he knew it, he had found himself asking for your company at the dinner table. You were hesitant at first but he was handsome and charming, but above all he was the Homelander! While apprehensive you still took to his offer just to smugly enjoy seeing him enjoy your food, proud that you had triumph in this battle where so many had been defeated, you’d cracked the code and god it felt good.

It became part of your weekly schedule, having dinner at his penthouse and chatting about anything, he loved talking and eventually it became apparent that it wasn’t because he was in loved with his voice but simply… he hadn’t got anybody who enjoyed listening to him, you were attentive, you responded well and even if you weren’t sure about something you weren’t going to let him feel as if you weren’t approachable anymore, you were more than happy to hear him explain to you a topic because his eyes gleam like those of a small kid telling you about something new they learned at school– in truth you loved how happy he became when he could rambled about things, as if nobody in the world had ever given five seconds of their time to let him talk about strange events from history and his theories, tonite he wanted to talk about the Dyatlov Pass incident and star formations that he was sad that he couldn’t see from New York, wishing you could see how the sky looked like from his cabin.

You’d spend more and more time in his home as the conversations grew more frequent, as he wanted to hear more about your interests and hobbies.

Thinking of how cute you looked while baking, how cute your laugh was, of the way you always held him after long days, that first real date, that first time you held hands, the first shy kiss after dinner.

As he took a long whiff to catch some of that gentle sweetness, he thought of the last day you were together.

That sound.

The thing that’s the size of a bean.

The anger, his heart shattered, all the colors of the world had dissipated when he saw that tumor growing in your stomach, he wanted to hurt you as much as you did, to shut you up as you threw excuses, begging him to believe you.

But that thing wasn’t his.

It couldn’t be his.

You said it was his, that the baby you didn’t even know was inside you was his, but he couldn’t be the father.

His eyes widened, he stood up and left the room, his mind focused on your name. They had tried getting his attention but could only give up as nobody would dare to chase after him, Homelander found himself entering the analytics offices towards the first chump he spotted.

“Can you find me information on a former employee?” He said firmly, the junior staff jumped at his seat nodding frantically– their name was Y/N L/N.” he said quietly.

The staffer didn’t have to do much work, you were easy to find, your name attached to Brooklyn’s most loved pizzeria for the last couple years, your face on their socials, and even a video from some food channel following what it was like working in Brooklyn’s hottest pizzeria had you in it, your shop had been listed as the best two years in a row, Homelander couldn’t bare looking at your face, but he asked for an address.

That night after spending time with Ryan who seemed to be sulking more and more, as he watched him eat his dinner, he thought of you, the kid was meandering whatever was on his plate didn’t feel appetizing, his meal was no different from what it was served in a high-end restaurant and the kid had no desire to eat it, he wanted Ryan to have the finest things when all he wanted was to have his mom’s tacos– his son opted to head for bed early skipping dinner all together, it was almost 10 pm, a heavy feeling had been boiling in his stomach since that meeting.

Taking flight all the way to some red brick Brooklyn projects, hovering about until he encountered you.

Time had been kind to you but you looked tired, the glow in your skin now dulled, your appearance unkempt, your clothes worn and old, your shoes the nicest thing you worn but they still creased and dirty, you looked beyond exhausted, your eyes half closed and your arms dangling on your sides as you carried a couple grocery bags, he looked around at the constructions and rubbish, at the hooligans and wannabe gangbangers, and the rancid smell. Hundred buildings all the same, he wanted to get closer as he watched you walk alone in those sticky white painted brick walls, you stopped suddenly by one of the brown doors, there were only four other doors in that floor, waiting patiently, an old lady opens the door, you two exchanging pleasantries as you handed the lady two of your grocery bags, a small dog came to say hello and then… there she was.

She was small for her age, she didn’t jump with excitement or say much to you, just a slight bow to the old lady and she walked in front of you as you said goodbye, only stopping two doors down.

Your apartment was small, two small bedrooms, small kitchen and barely sparsely decorated, but it was clean and tidy, your daughter dropped her school bag, and headed for the bedroom while you moved to the kitchen, never really talking to each other, he found himself flying closer just to get a perfect vision of that child.

She was a mini-you, taken so much from you, whoever the father was it didn’t seem to have mattered in the end for the kid got nothing from him, she changed to her pajamas as you sat on the couch after throwing away your uniform to the floor.

You two talked briefly, you didn’t read her any stories before bed or kissed her good night, you simply stared at each other and talked while you stretched your feet.

The little girl entered her room, a tidy space, books piled up on the floor in sharp stacks against the wall, a desk containing some electronics and a couple stuffed animals.

She was a cute thing, just like you had been once, her hair short and her straight bangs covering most of her face, too long for it too be safe, she had your complexion and jet black hair, she sat on her desk turning the desk lamp and picked her Kindle up, looking at her clock then back at her Kindle, she sat there for a couple minutes digesting some pages until it was almost midnight, before heading to the living room– you’d passed out on the couch, she took your phone and put it to charge fidgeting with something before leaving it, turning the TV off, and finally turning around to slip a quilt on top of her mother.

Homelander almost felt sorry for the kid, after all you had done to him only to neglect your child, you were just as much of a scumbag as he had imagined, he had had enough wanting to fly away until he saw the little girl staring back at him.

The lights were off on the home, and it was dark with the streets below shaded piss yellow, he looked around wondering if there was something nearby that caught your daughter’s attention but she was staring straight at Homelander, she forced the window open peeking her small frame slightly out the window, in the dark starless night while strangers made a ruckus a couple streets from here, a bright twinkling of pale blue illuminated your home.

He got closer, something caught in his throat as he came only a meter away from your daughter.

She looked so much like you but her eyes even as they lost their unnatural light were so blue, as if the entire ocean lived in her eyes.

The curtains slid shut, his chin flicked in surprise as he caught the small figure plainly ignoring him, he was loved by all, especially children! Even those whose favorites were Noir, A-Train or Maeve loved him! Yet this little girl had just shrugged him off and ignored him, simply returning to her bedroom to shut the second set of blinds and jump straight to bed.

Homelander was left dumbfounded, not once had he seen such disinterest and callousness from a member of his safest demographic, so he stood in mid-air pondering about killing both of you briefly, just as the heat from his cheeks cooled down, he stared at the now sleeping brat, wondering about that inhuman blue light that glossed her big round eyes.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys oc characther #homelander fanfiction #american royalty #my fic tag #personal #dadlander #I been possessed #not proofreaded sorry #homelander x f!reader #homelander x you

[5516-minutes]

merry holidays to everyone! i humbly offer a charlos hotelier/lobby pianist AU:

Charles had absolutely seen the man around the hotel before. The massive windows that let the sunlight fall against his back for most of the day overlooked most of the grounds below, from the mosaic-tiled pools to the arbors crested with budding vines— the hotel vinted their own wine, and Charles had been gifted a bottle or two during his musical residency there. As spring fell to summer then to fall Charles sometimes spotted the man amongst the grapes, the rounded glint of a wine glass in hand, that swoop of brown hair a soft auburn in the sun. He was always with somebody. After a while Charles came to recognize the various others as staff members of the hotel. At one point the man passed by with the hotel manager, his crisp dress shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he gestured animatedly in conversation. As the lounge pianist Charles was obliged to acknowledge each guest that walked through the lobby but it was quite difficult to pull his eyes away from that striking figure he only ever saw at a distance; Charles hadn't meant to stare to the point of distraction but his fingers stumbled together in a discordant strain that had some guests look up in the ensuing silence. Ears and cheeks burning red, Charles hadn’t needed to look at his hands while playing in a long while— but not wanting to chance any kind of embarrassing eye contact he determinedly kept his eyes on his wrists as they coaxed music from the keys until he finally had to look up at someone's approach. Amused brown eyes look back at him over a strong nose and a plush bottom lip. “I don't think I've met you yet,” the man says, holding out a hand for Charles to shake; Charles, to his credit, is able to keep playing with one hand while reaching over to shake the proffered hand. “Carlos Sainz, Junior.” “Carlos Sainz?” Charles repeats dumbly, realization sinking in. “You must be the son of...” Carlos casually leans one hip against the piano. “Sí. My father owns this hotel. I'll be running the wine business, helping out with some operations.” Head cocked, he comments, “I was told we hired a lounge pianist, but you are not what I was expecting.” Great. Charles swallows nervously. He may have botched this lucrative gig. All because he got distracted by the attractiveness of his hotelier boss’s son. “What do you mean?” Carlos chuckles. “I wasn’t expecting our new pianist to be as handsome as he is talented.”

#charlos #1655 #c square #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #f1 fanfic #my fic tag #it is time for me to contribute to the old money!carlos agenda #tbc i wanted to post this bit before i edit it to death u__u/

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[wraithsoutlaws]

TITLE: Perfect Drug CHAPTER ONE: Jawbreaker WORD COUNT: 4,309 PAIRING: Dagger/Dum Dum CW: Light violence, gore mention The story of how two fucked up guys become one fucked up couple.

The sky changed colors in the city. The endless scroll of neon gave it an artificial glow, and from the first moment he crossed the desert line, Dagger had resented it. Nothing looked real. Nothing was–not the food, the music. Certainly not the people. He found himself looking up as he drove further into it’s clutches, searching for a sliver of sky that felt familiar, but the only thing he found was a thinly veiled layer of bullshit.  Northside was different, though no less oppressive. The smokestacks kept the air murky, and no matter how many times he blinked or re-calibrated his optics, he couldn’t quite clear his vision of the red haze that defined it. But unlike Night City, it took pride in it’s own ugly. And he liked that. 

The All Foods factory sat like an icon at the center of it all, more mythical to the locals than even the crumbs of Arasaka littering the district. Dagger stood outside with a cigarette, gazing into it’s shuttered maw. 

A week had passed since he found his way to the building for the first time, toting a severed head in one hand, and a duffel of recovered Militech cargo in the other. He had taken both from a smoldering warzone in Sierra Sonorra where two behemoths fought their last battle; a cadre of Maelstrom gangoons and a unit of corpo dogs. He could have taken the wreckage back for the Wraiths. The gear would have fetched a pretty enny, and the head of a Milietech sergeant would make a lovely hood ornamented for his Quadra–but Dagger never cared for money, and he had plenty of heads already. 

He brought the cargo home to Northside instead, head in hand like a peace offering, still bleeding fresh after decapitation. He wanted a deal, not a payday. Something worth more than a shiny new car, or a pair of genuine leather boots, and after one long blurry fucking night, he got one.  

The Wraiths would protect Maelstrom’s interests in the Badlands and the ‘borgs would give them leverage in the city, pushing to wipe Sixth Street from Santo Domingo. Dagger would move between them, lending his skills to one while extending his power in the other.

In the end, he'd puppet them both.

His mama always said to dream big.

He pressed at a dwindling bruise over his ribcage as he double checked for his smokes in his jacket pocket. Each breath came with a dull ache that hadn’t quite quelled from that night, even a week later. He’d paid his price for admission. He could still feel the wreckage in his bones as he stood at the entrance of the garage, cigarette half smoked already, waiting for an answer at the door. The security camera at the edge of the roof peered down at him, it’s blinking red light a mimic of the trademark optics that were watching him from inside. And they were watching him. Making him wait, though they were the very ones who had set the meet. When he glared up at the lens, he could feel them on the other side.

Another minute passed. He threw his cigarette down, banging a fist to the rusted metal with impatience. After a moment of waiting he considered going around to the intercom, but it felt too much like defeat. He knocked again instead, kicking with a steel tipped boot for good measure and flicking another glare up to the camera. 

The noise must have worked. The door swung open with a growl, sudden enough it nearly took an inch off his nose. Before he could blink, the front end of a revolver shoved itself against the scar on his cheek, forcing his back to the wall with its presence. Seven eyes peered over the muzzle, a shiny chrome scowl beneath them. Dagger’s fist moved on instinct, nestled now against the underside of Dum Dum’s chin where the skin still felt human. The steel claws in the chassis of his hand inched in the sheaths between his knuckles, hungry for a drop of blood. They stood still, entwined in each other’s violence, neither one ready to budge.

“Keep that gun in my face any longer and I’ll get real acquainted with your fleshy bits.” He wasn’t sure which lens he should look at, or which ones were looking at him. His icy gaze settled on the ones that looked most like eyes, though he couldn’t read them. The tip of his claws met skin, just slightly. Enough bite to prove he wasn’t lying.

Dum Dum didn’t sweat it.

“You think your trigger is quicker than mine?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

The sound that came from his throat could have been a laugh. A moment later, Dum Dum drew the gun back and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Slowly, Dagger followed suit, letting his hand fall away with a tinge of disappointment. A click of his tongue.

“Scared?”

“My bullet would rip through your meatpan before your chrome even touched me,” Dum Dum said. He sounded sure, the weight of his optics nearly prying Dagger apart, scanning his hardware in bemusement. He wouldn’t find much, except maybe that his assessment was correct. Which begged the question: why not pull the trigger?

Dagger grinned.

“You gonna invite me inside?” 

Dum Dum didn’t answer, turning a corner toward the street without looking back at him. “Nothing in there for you.”

“Is that right?” Dagger pulled his cigarettes from his jacket and lit one as he followed. A busted up Chevillon was parked on the corner, garish Maelstrom colors splattered across the rusted paint like a badge of honor. Ugly, like everything else around it. He smiled. “Taking me out to pasture then?”

Smoke slithered from his lips as they walked. 

“You wanna play with the big dogs you’re gonna have to work like a bitch.” Dum Dum stopped at the car, and spared him an indecipherable look. “That means you do what I say, when I say it, how I say it. If I tell you to lick the shit off my boots you better fucking get on your knees and do it, yeah? Piss me off and it’s bye bye with a bullet. We’ll sell your meat to the Scavs without a second thought.”

Dagger raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took another drag from his smoke. “My god, I think I can see Royce’s hand up your ass using your mouth like a little puppet. Don’t you wanna be a real boy?”

Dum Dum looked tough, but Dagger had seen enough already to know that he folded for the big man as easy as paper. He half expected the gun again, but to his surprise, he only saw a smile on the other man’s face–teeth that looked too human to belong to him. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop.

“You are one stupid motherfucker.”

He almost sounded impressed.

Dagger stared him down with the same grin, head tilting. Anyone else, he might skin them alive for the assertion but Dum Dum could be useful. No doubt more than any of the other rusted lugnuts lurking in the gang who’d still be more than happy to kill him. If he wanted this to work out, he’d need someone watching his back, and he’d already proved he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Dum Dum slid into the driver’s seat and gestured for Dagger to go around. He wasn’t thrilled about playing passenger, his own car parked down the block, but he decided not to push it. He didn’t know his way around the city yet, let alone wherever the fuck they were headed. Or why.

He climbed into the Chevillon, choosing to play nice, a decision quickly waning as he waited for an explanation that never came. He blew smoke toward Dum Dum, a juvenile attempt to get his attention as the engine turned over.

“Got a problem, princess?” Dum Dum asked without looking. At least his head didn’t move.

Dagger leaned back in his seat. “Just wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.”

“You’re the one who knocked.”

“Funny.”

The car pulled onto the street. 

“Got a pick-up.” The flat drone of his voice gave away his own annoyance in the silence. “And I wasn’t bullshitting before. Do as you’re told and we won’t have a problem.”

Dagger rolled down his window to vent the smoke from his cigarette. “Pick-up? And here I was hoping for a little fun. Ain’t you lot known for your violence? No offense but thats a waste of my talent and I’m keen to believe it’s a waste of yours too.”

“Royce wants to know you can follow orders. You might be hot shit to those desert dogs but you’re a long way from the top out here.”

Something in the gravel of his tone indicated a warning, but Dagger flicked it off with the ash from his cig. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, watching the city blur past the tinted glass. Northside was less colorful than the rest of Night City, all smoke and concrete. In a way, it reminded him of home–the badlands, an endless sprawl of sun bleached dirt, harsh and rigid. Vibrant in its decay. They bore their similarities alright. He could smell fire in the air. A laugh lodged itself in his throat as he finally looked over.

“So that’d make you what, then? The babysitter?”

A grunt. There might have been humor in it. Or a threat.

“You should count yourself lucky. Anyone else prolly woulda shot you by now.”

Dagger didn’t doubt it for a second. Dum Dum was different from the rest, and somehow just the same. He followed orders, and crumbled like soggy paper for the top dog. Out of fear or loyalty, he couldn’t tell yet, but he lacked the self-respect to see that Royce would throw him out as soon as he wasn’t useful. He wondered what might happen if those strings pulled taut. If something sharp happened by to whittle them down. 

Dum Dum’s voice caught him by surprise.

“I’m actually impressed you’re still walking. Didn’t think you’d show up after that beating last week.”

“That right?” Dagger said, casually flipping down the visor ahead of him and examining his face in the two inch mirror. The bruise beneath his eye had faded from plum to a brown rot and for a moment he could feel the impact of the metal punch that knocked him on his ass again. It wasn’t the only one. His body was littered, like the canvas of an old painter–splashes of color hemorrhaging against his skin. He knew there was a cracked rib, probably a concussion, too. A few busted teeth, and more. Welcoming gifts from Maelstrom. It was his own suggestion, a last ditch effort to get close to the gang without having chrome shoved up his ass. An initiation plucked from his smuggling days. Each member got a single hit. If he was still alive by the end of it, he’d get in.

And Dagger always got in, smiling and spitting blood. He’d do it again just to prove that he could. 

“Hell, I thought that left hook from Lars might kill you.” Dum Dum laughed.

Dagger flipped the visor closed. “You kiddin’? My Daddy hit me harder for stealing a cigarette when I was eight years old.”

“You were prolly just a pussy back then.”

A grin cut across his lips as naturally as the sun cresting over the cityscape. “Well, he had a harder swing than you, at least.”

“Makes sense.” The car turned a tight corner and Dum Dum’s head tilted toward him for the first time. “Considerin’ I pulled my punch.”

Dagger met those empty red lenses with a raised brow. “The fuck you did.”

The crack of his own teeth rang out in his ears again, as if that chrome fist was crashing into his face all over. He could still remember his seven eyes watching him as he stumbled back, spitting blood and enamel in his face. He tongued the empty space on his bottom gum where the molar used to sit. Dum Dum had extracted it more seamlessly than the world’s best dentist ever could.

Pulled his punch. 

Dagger scoffed.

Dum Dum didn’t show any sign of humor. His silence said it all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

A pause. And then finally a smile.

“‘Cause the harder we hit you, the louder you laughed. Didn't wanna give you the satisfaction.”

Dagger’s face fell, as expressionless as the red lenses in front of him, which seemed now to burn holes through his chest in the silence. He should cut them from his skull, but the feeling passed at the sight of a smile on Dum Dum’s lips.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” he said, somewhere between affection and dismay.

Dagger took it for a compliment. He grinned, and a bruise sang triumph beneath his skin. 

The car pulled off the street beside a painted wall that looked nearly identical to every other street corner in Northside. Dagger could find his way through every small vein of dusty road across the Badlands with his eyes closed but ask him to distinguish between one block or the next within the industrial sprawl of the district and he’d be lost. He pressed his forehead against the window and looked up. Not even the sky could help him. The shadow of the city all but smothered it. 

Dum Dum cut the engine. 

Wrecked cars littered the crowded alleyway where they sat now, nothing but skeletal remains, picked clean by the vultures. But there was one ahead of them, a black van that stuck out among the rest. The pick-up, if he had to wager.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, his cigarette almost nothing but ash. He finally flicked it out the window. 

Dum Dum didn’t answer. He studied the van ahead of him in the quiet, and after a moment Dagger pushed his optics to scan it too. Standard. No heat signature inside, though there was something stored in the back, a chemical signature he couldn’t get a specific read on. Drugs, more than likely. Of course it was. He had heard the ‘strommers had their own brand of shit. The kind with enough kick to push past the thirty pounds of chrome in their head. 

“Something the matter with it?” On instinct, Dagger looked in the rearview, scanned the surrounding area. A flash of light flickered somewhere behind them and disappeared. He waited for it to happen again, but he saw nothing. 

“Gadge ain’t here,” Dum Dum said, tone flat. Once more unreadable.

“Taking a leak?”

A grunt. He leaned back in the seat, hand dropping down to the revolver wedged between his seat and the middle console. He flicked his head forward, toward the van. “Well, go on, bitch boy. Check it out.”

Dagger’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed back the urge to tell him to fuck off. He lit another cigarette on the way out. The street was quiet, though somewhere a few blocks down a siren echoed off the smokestacks. He paused when he reached the back of the van, head turning over his shoulder. There was nothing here. Nobody in sight beside those seven glowing eyes behind the glass, and still the hair rose on the back of his neck. 

No Gadge. No blood. No struggle. So why did he have a bad feeling? He focused his attention back to the van as Dum Dum waved a hand at him impatiently. Another quick scan told him the same information before he finally reached for the handle and pulled the bed open. A creak of metal cracked through his ears.

It almost deafened the gunshot.

Dagger ducked, dropping low without thought. His cigarette fell to the ground half burned, mocking him as another bullet riccochetted against the back of the van. His first thought was Dum Dum. Royce had changed his mind on the deal, ordered his execution. A quiet hit didn’t sound like his style, and Dagger was almost disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the ugly bastard one more time just to call him a fucking pussy to his face, but a moment later he could hear the ‘borg’s static voice yelling at him from the car to get the fuck up.

He stayed low, unable to pinpoint the direction of the gunshot, and made his way back to the passenger’s side of the Chevillon.

The engine sputtered to life at the same time as the van in front of him. He crawled inside just in time to witness the driverless van crash through a charred Mackinaw to the next street over.

“Fuck!” Dum Dum yelled, flooring the pedal before Dagger could get his foot pulled in all the way. “Shit’s hacked. Gonk’s don’t know who they’re messing with.” 

He rammed through the same debris as the van but caught a harsh edge of metal, and the Chevillon stalled for a moment before struggling through. The ringing in Dagger’s ears hadn’t stopped, and he only realized his hand was bleeding when he reached for his third smoke. 

“Hack means their close.”

Dagger rolled the window down and stuck his head out, catching the stale air of Northside in a suffocating wind. He could see the van ahead of them like a black smear, but it wasn’t the van he was interested in. Quickhack on a vehicle was useful, but it had drawbacks. One being proximity. Had to be close or you lost connection, even with boosted gear. 

A small Hatchback swung suddenly out from a sidestreet, narrowly missing their car as it sped past. Dum Dum swerved and lost a foot of paint on a fire hydrant in attempt to keep steady. Dagger scanned it as it followed track with the van, spitting chooh2 to catch up. Two signatures inside. A runner.

He ripped the gun from Dum Dum’s seat and pulled himself halfway out the window to take aim. He shot quickly and near blind, bullet lost in the wind as the chase veered left. 

“Fuckin’ shoot steady,” Dum Dum yelled over at him.

“Drive fuckin’ steady,” Dagger snapped, and this time he held his breath as he aimed for the speeding car. A shot came back at him in response and he ducked back into the window before firing again. The windshield spiderwebbed but the car stayed true, zipping through a line of traffic as they headed into a busier part of the district. A horn blared beside him. The hatchback disappeared between two trucks, and Dum Dum struggled on the wheel, crashing into the edge of a turning car and nearly throwing the gun from Dagger's slick, bloody grasp when he shot again.

He couldn’t track where the bullet hit, but he could tell that it missed.

With a growl, Dagger reached over for the wheel.

“Switch me places.” It was a command more than a question, but Dum Dum didn’t protest. He ripped the gun from Dagger’s hand as Dagger pushed his leg over to the gas pedal and shimmied across the seat in an awkward dance, climbing over him without slowing the vehicle until they both settled into their new positions.

Dum Dum took aim as naturally as Dagger did the wheel. He was no stranger to this, or to the electricity running through his chest as he gripped the wheel knuckle tight, grin spreading over his lips.

The tight streets were no match for an open road, but it got his blood pumping all the same. 

He could barely make out the back of the car up ahead, but he could see the rear light explode as Dum Dum fired beside him, leaving red glass sparkling on the pavement like blood. Another shot bellowed, and the hatchback veered wildly, nearly toppling sideways as it made a sharp turn. 

Dagger followed, cutting the same corner with the ease of sharpened steel. He couldn’t see the van further up, but he locked his optics onto the car. Blood splattered the window, and he knew that Dum Dum had hit one of them inside. The engine groaned as he pushed it further. The Chevillon didn’t have the same gumption as his Quadra. He could feel the waiver in her gait, but they were close now. Dum Dum felt it too. He braced his arm on the roof. One good shot is all they’d need.

Dagger seamlessly crossed over the center line, taking the opposite lane to blow past several cars that separated them from their goal. Traffic sped by, so close it rocked the car, but he didn’t flinch.

One. Good. Shot.

Dum Dum fired. 

Blood sprayed the windshield. 

The hatchback veered suddenly into a passing car, which came to a skidding stop, halting the traffic behind it and keeping Dagger from passing back over into the right lane. His mind raced, and on instinct he took a quick left to avoid collision, and then another.

Dum Dum screamed in his ear, but the words were deafened from wind, the ringing, the sirens. Neon lights burned together, flashing against his corneas. 

“Wrong fuckin’ way!” He heard finally.

The streets grew narrower, and then he understood. 

He could smell the ocean. 

 Northside’s warehouses were a shadow in the rearview as they headed toward the bay into Kabuki. Tyger territory. They had crossed the district line. 

Dum Dum reached for the wheel in a last ditch effort to change course. The momentum of the turn threw them upward, tires leaving the ground. The car spun uncontrollably, flipped, crashing through the barricade on the side of the road in a explosion of crunching metal. 

He could see the ocean.

A smear of open blue that could match the sky his heart yearned for. It was beautiful.

Almost.

And it hit like a fucking rock. 

His vision blacked for a moment before the water caved in around them. Slowly, then all at once. He barely had time to take in a lungful of air. Kicking at the door wildly, he swam away from the wreckage as the sea pulled them under. His gaze shot upward, searching once more for the sky to lead him. He followed the light up and up, chest starting to ache, until finally he found it.

Dagger gasped as he breached, shaking water from his eyes. He didn’t recognize the city around him, but he spotted a dock nearby. He swam toward it, then stopped. Looked back. The only remains of the Chevillon were petering bubbles at his back, and smooth water beside that. There wasn’t any sign of Dum Dum. By the look of him, he’d sink as quick as the car.

He glanced between the dock and the bubbles and back again. 

All that fucking chrome…

Walking back to All Foods without the drugs and their sergeant at arms might earn himself a spot in that industrial microwave that Maelstrom liked to boast. Dum Dum was the only one who didn’t want to kill him, after all.

“Fuck.”

He spit water then took another breath and dived.

The car left a trail like ink in the murky water. Dagger clawed toward it, dragging himself further down into the dark depths. Day turned to night. The city was different here, peaceful, and if not for the pounding in his ears, quiet. 

The distant red glare of those eyes shined like a beacon further down. He followed them like the north star, pushing himself to go faster. Dum Dum kicked despite himself, maybe instinct, maybe panic, but his weight worked against him, pulling him down quicker. Dagger pushed harder, reached further. Dum Dum finally noticed him, lenses fixed and unwavering, a calm coming over him as he finally got close enough to grab. Dagger heaved upward, working against the ocean’s cold grasp and the anchor like weight dragging him down. His chest began to burn, and the sky still looked so dark above them. 

He considered letting go, eyes squeezed tight, angry ‘ganic lungs ready to burst. 

And then he could breathe again.

He reached blindly for the dock ladder, trying hard not to heave. Dum Dum climbed up beside him, still as a corpse.

“Fucking gonk shit,” he muttered.

Dagger almost didn’t catch it over the sound of his panting. He laid flat on his back, taking in the welcome blue above him. He could finally see a break in the cityscape, clouds sneaking in at the edge of his vision. 

“Quite a fuckin’ thank you,” Dagger said without taking his eyes from above.

“Oxygen reserves. Could sit down there all day.”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through wet, matted hair. “All the good it’d do you. Be a pile of rust by the time they found you. If they found you.”

Dum Dum laughed. Short, quick static. Somehow it sounded genuine.

“And I’m sure you did that outta the kindness of your heart.”

“What fuckin’ heart?” He said flat, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled the pack out, sopping wet. He didn’t bother trying to light one before he tossed them into the bay with a sigh. “Owe me some fucking smokes.”

Dum Dum opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it. He lifted his head, and though he couldn’t see exactly, Dagger knew he was looking past him. A gun cocked at the back of his head. Cold barrel against his skull. He clenched his jaw, and turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize staring down at him behind glass eyes.

His automatic translator picked up her words better than his ears.

“Welcome to Kabuki, bitch.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #oc: dagger #dum dum #x: perfect drug #my fic tag #well i fussed over this too much so im just gonna say yolo and post it #that also means i have to start on the second chapter. hm. #anyways..........its been a long time coming dklsajfdlsa #linked the song i got the title from for soundtrack purposes if it suits you UwU #sad to tell you all that cockroach won't appear until ch.2 despite being in the above image v.v #false advertising im sorry

[pavlovleowrites]

For @jegulus-microfic , August 25th, prompt Gold (549 words, nsfw, explicit sexual content)

I’ll give you a crown of the rarest metal and a kingdom to rule over. I’ll make you a throne in the strongest wood. I’ll lift you up myself and bend my head at your knees. Leave your god and come find me. Oh, you know I’ll take care of you little priest.

Again and again Regulus woke up to the demon’s golden eyes shining in the dark, crooked smile waiting for his resolve to dissolve. His faith tested, and his knees bleeding, hands aching from being held too tight against each other. If praying could have saved him, he would have been standing by God’s right hand already.

You hurt yourself on his account, love, but you’d never suffer in my hands. I could prove it to you if you’d let me in.

Eyes like Charon’s coin ready to bring him over the edge. Regulus barred his door, but there was always a window open for the holy spirit.

The call of temptation when he touched himself under the cover of the night, guilt and desire spreading through him like molten gold, leaving him hard and bruised.

I’ll make you the king you deserve to be. Tell me priest, does your skin taste like the stars blazing through the sky ? Would you ignite me with the righteousness of your light ? I haven't been scared of fire in a long time, let me burn in your body.

And what was Regulus supposed to do when the whispers turned to caresses, to moans and to prayers. Promises of heaven from the devil’s tongue, a glimpse of eternal bliss with the stroke of a wrist.

Regulus has been well taught, he was supposed to fight evil not relinquish his weapons at the feet of a golden demon, a pagan god, a grotesque image of his Holiness.

But here he is, on his knees, mouth opened eagerly waiting for absolution. His defeat tastes heavenly around the demon’s cock, heavy on his tongue. Each thrust burns his throat and brings tears to his eyes. He holds his breath, head dizzy, it’s overwhelming how right it all feels.

His lips are wet, his shin is covered in spit, he looks filthy, the picture of a willing virgin sacrifice. The reverence in the golden eyes looking down on him makes him feel like he has finally been understood by religion. He chokes on the demon, so full of him he could cry. His own neglected cock hardens under the pressure in his mouth, the proof of his true vile desires about to stain his robes without so much as a touch.

“Regulus” and his name resonates against the walls of the church, a god in his house. The demon doesn’t deceive him, when he grabs his curls to take his head off his cock, pumping himself a few more times before covering Regulus face with cum, anointing him lord of his own dominion. Regulus greedily licks away what he can before the demon grabs his jaw tightly, golden eyes meeting gray ones with a devotion never reached in the mortal plane.

Let me worship at your feet little priest, let me write the holy scriptures of your principles. Will you redeem me ?

And what can Regulus do but say yes, and follow the demon down in damnation ?

#regulus black #james potter #priest regulus #demon james #jegulus microfic #my fic tag #i have no idea #jegulus #the marauders

[harringrieve]

Steve and Robin find European “bread sticks” as they scrounge for food, Steve’s mom only stocks the pantry with the shelf stable goods she buys abroad and brings back to make them seem “well traveled” and interesting, where someone to stick their head in and look. Robin laments this, and mentions how he lives in a strange bougie catalogue, says it’s probably why he’s so weird about Stuff, and sometimes Things.

**************

“Oh- Well, I’ve lived alone like a collective 8-ish months out of the year since I wassss,” he tilts his head looking away as he thinks back, “like 11?”

Robin stops digging through some boxes labeled in…. Slavic (?), and levels him with an appropriately horrified scrutinizing gaze, “Who raised you?”

Steve smiles easily as he leans back in his chair and gestures widely with his arms, the disgusting hard and thin ‘bread stick’ still in hand, “My peers!” He takes a bite out of the unseasoned stick, then almost immediately makes a face as his brain and tastebuds catch up to the action, and glares at the stick in hand, betrayed.

After a solid five seconds of jaw-dropped silence, Robin shakes her head minutely. “Jesus, that explains so much. Honestly I’m amazed you turned out so well-rounded.”

He gives a genuine and bright “Thank you!” while flicking her off.

#my fic tag #platonic stobin #they’re the queer cousins that hang out in the basement during family reunions your honor

[phoebepheebsphibs]

WELL I POSTED THE FIRST STORY ON AO3

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tutant meenage neetle teetles #rottmnt fanart #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfic #rottmmt hide and seek #my fic #my fic tag #my first fanfic #my first fanfiction? #oh geez #please dont let this flop #im actually shaking #i hope you enjoy #i like turtles #turtle tots #rottmnt turtle tots

[persephoneflouwers]

WIP Snippet ✨

This is a little extract from the non really traditional ABO fic I’m currently writing for the @omegaharryfest <3 (hopefully eheh)

He bursts out of the door, seeking some fresh air. He still feels his limbs burning. The hallway stretches before him, untouched by whatever happens to Louis inside his room. Sweat drips down his spine, itching with new uncontrollable chills.

At that very moment, Harry emerges from his own room, and he looks like a mess. With his disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes, Harry appears as if he had just weathered a storm. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes hint at sleepless nights. His shoulders slump, as he shuffled through the corridor with a weary gait. The creases on his forehead seem etched in worry, betraying the deep lines of stress that mark his face.

Louis holds his breath. He really can’t smell Harry’s scent right now, or he might moan.

It’s so intense, it drives Louis insane. Panting, Louis keeps scratching subconsciously at his mark. Omega Princes claim their mates as their own with a mark. It is their ritual woven into the tapestry of their royal bloodline, heralding the beginning of a lifelong union. It is more of an initiation into the Royalty. With the mark from an omega prince, they are officially Royals too. No matter what Louis says though, with the mark still on his neck, he is still very much a Prince. Usually Omega Princes don’t get the bite, but Harry did ask for one.

As the scratching continues, Louis hopes to peel the mark away. It burns and itches and it pains how much it is making his alpha unsettled. The fucker is clawing at his chest like it wants to jump outside. Louis is losing it for real.

Harry and Louis share a knowing glance without uttering a single word. Louis breaks the silence first.

“You needed me.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks in a hurry. Every inch of him tingles with nervous energy, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He quickens his pace, as if he needs to escape the brewing storm of confrontation. His footsteps echo on the pavement, matching the rapid beat of Louis’ racing thoughts. “No, I didn’t.”

“Where have you been?”

Harry has never walked faster. He barely glances at Louis when he walks by.

“Been busy.” Louis must feel very confused even to Harry’s senses, because he rushes to complete. “Been busy. Away. For—for important duty stuff. Somewhere where you definitely weren’t needed.”

#wip snippet #abo universe #abo dynamics #my wip #my moodboards #like cherry blossoms #this is my first ABO and I won’t lie i am struggling #thank you to my beta for this one YOU ARE AMAZING #my fic tag #my fic updates #hl fanfiction #hlficlibrary #allwaswell16

[sollucets]

as a tiny prompt: aye wearing akks clothes (maybe an iconic tank top that's a bit too big on him) and akk feeling a certain way

hi nonny i am at last back at it again. thank you for your patience! ✨i think akk's more iconic of his 2 tank tops is definitely the teal one

we are in the post-os2 long-distance akkaye timeline again; 1.2k, rated t for they're kissing

💜

It’s well into the afternoon when Akk finally hears the telltale sound of movement in his bed. His desk, across his dorm room, faces away, and he doesn’t bother turning from the chair to look. It’s going to take Aye a little while to actually wake up, and the last Akk had seen he’d been sprawled face-down across the pillows, taking up nearly all the room in an already too-small bed. 

So instead, he keeps writing, the little scratching noise of his pen the only sound in the room. Akk usually works with something playing in the background, but he’d forgone music in deference to Aye’s recovery from nineteen hours of air travel. He’s also not really working, not so soon after the end of term; he sets back to writing in his journal, content enough to wait just a little longer. 

Like he’d expected, it’s a while before he hears the telltale groaning of Aye actually getting up. He resists the urge to look for a while, but eventually turns to glance over his shoulder and catches the bathroom door closing, hears the sink turn on. He smiles. 

A few minutes later, he again doesn’t look up when the door opens and Aye’s arms loop around him from behind, a chin digging into his shoulder. 

“Good afternoon,” Akk says mildly, gently leaning the side of his head against his boyfriend’s. 

Aye whines, incoherent, and squeezes around Akk’s shoulders. He smells like toothpaste. 

“That bad, huh?”

“What time is it,” Aye mumbles, almost directly against Akk’s ear. 

“It’s half past two, and I probably should’ve woken you up earlier. The jet lag isn’t going to get any better like this.”

Aye lets out a muffled groan and drops his face into Akk’s shoulder, breath warm against the skin. He has to be leaning over the back of the desk chair, and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s clinging so thoroughly it’d be hard to detach him. He says something, barely audible. 

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” Aye enunciates more clearly, sounding both definitely still sleepy and distinctly pouty. Akk can feel his lips moving. “Pay attention to me.”

“I’m journaling,” Akk answers, laughing a little. Deliberately, he adds another word. 

“What happened to my cute boyfriend from yesterday who missed me so much he cried at the airport?” 

“Your cute boyfriend from yesterday had to carry you inside from the car and as such doesn’t miss you anymore,” Akk answers primly, holding in a laugh. “Also, you cried too.”

“You just called yourself cute,” Aye says, sighing dreamily. “You should write it in your journal. This is a historic moment.”

“Shut up.”

Aye scoffs theatrically. “Listen to you. I’m never so mean.” 

Akk pointedly gets another two words written down and very generously doesn’t refute Aye’s bald-faced lie. “I’m not mean. I let you sleep in, didn’t I? And I made lunch, but it’s in the minifridge now.”

Against his shoulder, Aye’s lips curve first into a smile and then into a kiss. 

Akk melts a little. He hadn’t known, really, how much he missed this. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. 

“You made lunch for me?” Aye asks, sounding delighted despite how he’s pulling his arms away. “I guess I can forgive you then. I am hungry.”

Akk spins in his chair, glancing up. “We can—“ he starts, before the words catch in his throat. 

Aye’s hair is down, soft and in his eyes. That’s the first blow. The second is his bare legs, the edges of boxers just barely visible under the hem of the third shot directly to the heart, one of Akk’s tank tops. 

On Akk, it’s already oversized, and on Aye the effect is worse. He can see the curve of Aye’s waist where the side hangs open, paler than the rest of his skin. It contrasts prettily against the blue-green of Akk’s shirt. His eyes stick there, tracing the shape of it over and over until without his conscious input he reaches out and curls his fingers around that waist, tugging Aye abruptly forward into his lap. 

Aye makes a cut-off little noise of surprise, just barely getting his legs to the side in time. His skin under Akk’s hand is warm and soft and his weight in Akk’s lap is familiar even after all these months away, and his mouth is still in a cute little ‘o’ of surprise. 

He rallies quickly, though, and that ‘o’ morphs into the cat smile Aye wears only at his most self-satisfied. Leaning forward to keep his balance, he sets his hands lightly on Akk’s chest and says, a laugh in his voice, “Does my cute boyfriend still miss me after all?”

Blinking a couple times and valiantly fighting the urge to dig his nails in, Akk says, “You’re wearing my shirt.”

It’s hardly the first time. Aye loves stealing Akk’s clothes, and he’s seen it before — but the combination of all that skin and Aye soft and real and in his room and his shirt and now his lap is doing something to him. Aye’s here to steal his clothes again, here and tangible in his arms. 

“So I am. Most of mine are still in my bags.” Aye’s tone is fond as he stares down at whatever dumbstruck expression Akk is wearing, but it goes darker as he asks, “Do you like that?” 

Akk tries to drag his eyes up through the sea of radio static that his higher thought processes have become, but before his face is another stopping point; his collarbone, visible from the drape of the tank top and sadly unmarked. His left hand comes up until his thumb can run over that exposed skin.

He feels more than hears Aye take a breath in, and lets his fingers follow the motion up the column of his throat. It vibrates as Aye says, a little shakily, “I guess that answers that question.”

Akk, who would usually roll his eyes but is distracted by the way Aye licks his lips after speaking, finishes the journey to curl his hand around the back of Aye’s neck and pull him down. Aye goes easily, melting into the kiss with a sigh that Akk has heard a million times and also not in months. They’d kissed last night, brief and soft and clumsy with sleep once he’d finally gotten Aye into the safety of their dorm, but not like this. 

No, not like this at all; he feels teeth against his upper lip. Aye’s hands leave his chest to wander down to his waist then back up to his shoulders and cling there, squeezing pressure through fabric. It feels a little like Aye might understand it, like he might get the ache in Akk’s hands and heart to hold him as close as possible. Akk makes a soft noise into his mouth, shifting in the chair, and they break apart for a moment, just far enough that their noses still touch. 

“So,” asks Aye, breathy but still somehow infuriatingly smug, “Do you want me to keep it on, or take it off?” 

In retaliation, Akk summons all his willpower and says, “I thought you were hungry.”

Aye leans in again, close enough that their lips brush, and whispers, “Shut up.” 

#the eclipse #akkayan #akk x ayan #my fic tag #arbitrary milestone prompts #it feels really good to be making something again. i've been a little quiet about it but june really did some damage to my life #and the worst thing about feeling bad is that. like. not being able to make stuff because you feel bad makes you feel *worse* ykno #in any case. fluff!!! kissing!!! #the time difference between london/thailand is six hours and most flights i saa when i googled this are in the 15-20 hour range #even the expensive ones with no stops #akk journaling is a hc of mine u also see in on our way up #ok. i'll stop talking now :') posting at a stupid time too bc i'm just happy to have something done. thank u! <3

[creamymilkk]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ♡. 🥤 Different Type Of Love 🥤 .♡

Call me (call me) my love . Call me, call me and we'll take a ride call me (call me) on the line. Call me, call me in to overtime Call me

༉‧₊˚ #Vance Hopper x reader

. ˚₊ ꒱ Pairing/Pairings: Vance Hopper and F!Reader.

༉‧₊˚ -Format: Fanfiction.

× &﹕Summary: You got a official date with Vance Hopper

×﹕♺ AUTHOR’S NOTE(S): Chapter 2!! The amount of love I’m getting is crazy! So 2.3k words :) I recommend listening to the playlist while reading.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

masterlist | Requests: OPEN | tags:@niniackerman @steveharringtonnbat @ethanhawkestan @kimbleplays @brady-bo0 @ihearteddie-munson

“It’s Vance…Vance Hopper..” he said, still on the floor. ‘Why did you ask him for his name?! That was so dumb of you already knew his name.’

Your thoughts were quickly cut off short when he grabbed your hand and pulled himself up off the ground. “So are you okay?” You asked him.

“Other than my butt stinging. Yeah… I’m okay.” He joked. You laughed at his comment. You didn’t know what to do, you're not good with conversations!

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” You said to him turning your back towards him. Slowly walking away wishing you had talked with him a bit longer.

“Hey! Wait a second.” You turned around seeing Vance quickly walking to you. “Do you ever want to hang out?” He asked, looking at you.

‘Is he trying to ask me out?’ you questioned yourself. You almost said ‘yes!’ Keyword. Almost. Until you remember you already had plans.

“Uh maybe another time. I already have plans.” You answered. He kinda looked a bit sad when you said that. Which made you hate yourself for saying that.

“Or..” he looked a bit confused but brightened a bit. You took out a piece of paper and a black pen and handed the paper and the pen.

“Or you could write down your phone number and we could plan out when we can hang out?” You stated well mostly preyed that he would do that. “Yeah sure.”

Vance took the paper and pen then wrote down his phone number. Then quickly handed it to you “I will call you when I have time. Have a great day Vance.” You said to him.

You quickly walked away with a radiant smile and bright red checks. you couldn’t believe you had the Vance Hopper phone number. He wanted to hangout with you.

You could’ve shouted out of happiness, you couldn’t wait until you could call him. You opened the paper.

‘***-***-**** i can't wait until we can officially hang out :) - V.H’ you went scarlet red. His handwriting was messy, sure. But it was Vance's handwriting.

You sighed happily then you realized that you needed to go with JENNIFER AT THE DINER! You almost forgot after talking to Vance. You quickly ran home to get the money and at least try to look better.

“Color me your color, baby. Color me your car Color me your color, darling I know who you are.”

You already heard the music playing inside, the diner was a light colorful baby blue color. With some baby pink color in some places.

There were many people in the diner since it was a very popular hang out spot, for people of all ages.

You walked inside and you already saw your friend. Jennifer is sitting in one of the booths, already seeing the menu. You walked up to her.

“Hey Jennifer, sorry for being late.” “I literally thought you stood me up!” Jennifer said, looking up to you.

You just nodded and sat cross from her, “so why are you late? You normally are always on time.” She stated.

“Oh well it’s becau-“ You were quickly interrupted.

“Hello my name is Jenny. Are you two ladies ready to order?” A lady asked both of you, she was wearing the diner’s uniform.

A bright blue baby dress with a baby pink apron with some white in her dress. She had her hair in a bun, with bright red lipstick that stood out. The lady named Jenny had a smile on her face when she was looking at you and Jennifer. With a notepad so she can write down whatever you two were going to order.

“Two milkshakes! A vanilla one and..” Jennifer said while looking at you for an answer.

“Uh..a strawberry one please.” You spoke.

The lady named Jenny wrote down what you two said, looking up from her notepad. She looked at you both.

“Coming right up!” She quickly walked away from your guy's table.

“Come up off your color chart. I know where you're coming from.”

“Anyways, why were you late?” Jennifer repeated her question.

“Oh right!” You said looking brighter, you slowly started smiling.

In all honesty you couldn’t wait to tell Jennifer what happened with you and Vance. It was a dream come true, the fact you got Vance Hopper phone number. And the cherry on top was he wanted to hang out with you. Yes you!! You couldn’t believe it.

“So you know me and Vance always walk in the same direction for school?” “Duh, you told me already.” Jennifer replied.

“So basically he asked to hang out and he gave me his phone number!” You quickly told her.

It was so quickly that Jennifer couldn’t even process what you even said. Thankfully she did.

“Call me (call me) on the line. Call me, call me any, anytime.”

“No way! No fuc-“ Jennifer was cut off by the server.

“There are you two milkshakes.” She spoke while sitting down with your guys milkshakes on the table.

“Is that all?” “Yeah that’s all.” Jennifer answers to her quickly, trying to make her go away.

The server just smiled and walked away, “Anyways! NO FUCKING WAY!!” She smiled at you. You can totally know she was so happy for you. She was grinning ear to ear giggling like a little girl.

“He totally has eyes on you, I mean Vance never gives out his number.” Jennifer stated she was right, Vance never gives out his number. Since he doesn’t really asks girls, all he does is try to beat his score on Pinball.

“Well I don’t know if he has eyes on me, for sure.” You added a straw inside of the milkshake and took a sip of your strawberry milkshake.

“Oh come on! It’s just the lowdown.” Jennifer said, also sipping her milkshake.

“Call me, call me any, anytime. Call me (call me) I'll arrive. You can call me any day or night.”

“Maybe he just wants to be friends?” You spoke looking at her. You did really think he just wanted to ‘hang out’ and you just got the wrong idea. I mean why you? There are many prettier girls that already have a crush on Vance. But a small part of you really thinks he asked you out.

“Wait what did the paper say?” “Oh here!” You took out the paper that had the number.

Jennifer laughed a bit “Jeepers creepers! He has such horrible writing.” She said while putting the paper down.

You laughed too “I know right!” “Okay how about this. We do a little sleepover and call him?” She said with a smirk.

“Maybe you two can ‘officially hang out’” Jennifer stated like how Vance wrote in the paper.

You smiled “That would be amazing!” You saw Jennifer smile “awww! You really do wanna hang out with him.” “NO WAIT I MEANT THE SLEEPOVER!”

Jennifer laughed hard “I know! I know! Just call your mom if that’s okay. There’s a phone next to the entrance.” She started drinking her milkshake.

“Call me. Cover me with kisses, baby. Cover me with love. Roll me in designer sheets.”

You headed to the phone and put in your mom's phone number for work. Your mom quickly picked up.

You spoke before she could. “Hey mom, I was wondering if I can stay overnight with Jennifer.” You said.

“Of course honey! That would be perfect since I have the Night Shift.” “Okay thanks mom.” You spoke nicely.

“Stay safe.” Then your mom hung up. “I wish you talked to me like that.” Jennifer giggled, you turned around.

“Oh shush!” You laughed.

“I'll never get enough. Emotions come, I don't know why. Cover up love's alibi. Call me (call me) on the line.”

You two walked back to Jennifer's house, the sky already dark and you could see the stars in the dark blue sky. Jennifer unlocked her front door and opened it.

“Your parents aren’t home?” “Nope, they needed to go with my aunt or something.” She answered you with a smile.

You two headed for Jennifer's bedroom, you had already been in her room before. She has a bright and sort of dark yellow wall, with many different types of posters. With different brands and people like the ‘Runways’, ‘Blondie’, ‘The Go-Go’s’, etc. Her room was a mess but still clean at the same time. On her floor, there were magazines, different types of books, and some make-up scattered around.

It was very different from your room. There was a table with a mirror with different kinds of makeup all around. She also had magazines about different places she likes loved to read about. The room smelled like Coca-Cola and strangely enough like sweet food. On her bed there were plushies and on the bedside table was a phone.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to clean my room,” Jennifer said with a bit of embarrassment in her voice.

“Don’t worry about it. I don't mind at all.” You replied. I mean, in all honesty, you didn't care. It's her room, not yours.

You sat down on her bed while Jennifer was going to her Vinyl. Going through a box with records. “Any recommendations?” she spoke with a sweet smile on her face.

“Nope, it's up to you,” you replied, getting a magazine that was right next to you.

“Okay!” Jennifer answered sweetly, grabbing a record. The record quickly started, you remembered this song from the diner quite fast.

“Color me your color, baby Color me your car. Color me your color, darling I know who you are.”

“Wait Jennifer did you pick this from the diner?” you questioned her without looking at her, you have a small smile on your face.

All she did was nod while mumbling the lyrics, you still had the magazine in your hand and you turned it around. It was some sort of boy band? There were three boys in total. The first boy was in the middle with long blonde hair sitting down, the second one was on the right side standing with short brown hair, the third boy was on the left side with jet dark black hair looking kinda mad.

“I see you have taste.” Jennifer spoke sitting on the bed next to you.

“I totally think the black hair boy would be a nice kisser.” She said, smirking and giggling.

“Really? He looks like he hates life.” You laugh pointing at his face.

“I bet you like the blonde one.” She replied giggling winking at you.

“Come up off your color chart. I know where you're coming from. Call me (call me) on the line.”

You didn’t understand what she was trying to say until you looked at him again. His hair kinda looked like…

Vance’s hair.

You blushed hard “w-what! No.” You said, shaking your head.

“Aww someone’s blushing,” Jennifer said cheekily.

“Wait!” Jennifer spoke rather quickly, her face looking like she had a bright idea. Though you couldn’t know what her idea was.

“Call me, call me any, anytime. Call me (call me) I'll arrive You can call me any day or night”

“We- I mean YOU should call Vance’s” Jennifer quickly added.

You were lost for words, you had Vance's number. You should wait for him to call you right? I mean what could you say to him?? Without being weird about it or awkward. Should you guys just talk about something random or should plan out when you two can hang out?

Jennifer could easily tell what you were thinking. It was like she could read your mind. “Ok, you could know… Do some small talk and go on a date,” she states like it was something easy.

“Easy said than done,” you replied to her.

“Call me. Cover me with kisses, baby cover me with love. Roll me in designer sheets.”

“Since you are such a baby.” Jennifer quickly reached into the pocket of your jacket. And swiftly grabbed the note with Vance's number on it.

Then typed in his number on her phone. ‘Shit.’ you thought. “Wait no-” “it's ringing!!” Jennifer said quietly.

The phone was picked up. “What's cracking?” a sort of rough voice answered.

Jennifer was gigging and she shoved the phone onto you. You were lost with words, you didn't know what to say or even do. Your thoughts were quickly cut off by Vance.

“I'll never get enough emotions, I don't know why. Cover up love's alibi”

“Uh…hello?” He sounded annoyed. “Hey it's me,” you told him your name.

“Oh hey.” His voice was much softer and nicer than before. There was an awkward pause. Until Jennifer gave you a soft push on your shoulder.

“Right, so I was wondering when we could… You know hang out,” you spoke a little quiet since you were shy. You didn't know what to do.

“Oh! Uh tomorrow??” “yeah..that works,” you replied to him. Before you could end this really awful conversation. Jennifer took the phone.

“IT'S A DATE.” then hung up. “WAIT WHAT?” you said to her.

“Call me (call me) on the line. Call me, call me any, anytime. Call me (call me) I'll arrive when you're ready we can share the wine.”

“Come on, you two were so awkward in an annoying way and also in a cute way.” she answered smiling.

“See it wasn't that bad!” “It was bad. It was awful.” you spoke.

“IT'S A DATE.” Vance heard in a different voice, not yours. Then the person hung up. He didn’t know who the hell that was, but right now he didn’t care for one second. He got a date with you.

He was blushing just a bit. Then he grew a love struck smile on him, he couldn’t wait to see you on your guys official date.

“Call me.”

#Spotify #requests open #vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #inbox open #female reader #the black phone #vance hopper the black phone #the black phone 2022 #the blackphone vance hopper #the black phone fanfic #the black phone fandom #cute fluff #different kind of love #my first fanfic #my fic tag #second chapter

[plasticfangtastic]

american royalty. ch. 2

A Homelander x F!reader fanfic.

a/n: will post ch. 3 this week but sadly my other fic will be posted next week, enjoy this slow burn dadlander fic, and thx u to all the readers. prev. chapter:

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you & the lie that tore you two apart. Now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago?

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Two

Red

It had been a very long day, business was booming nowadays and since that influencer had made a couple videos on your pizzeria, you had been more than just busy, you began to run out of ingredients.

 In the last four years, the restaurant had grown, it had been there since 2002 ran by your boss’s father and his brother, who had ran their own pizza shop since the 80’s but as the economy and other events hit, they had decided to relocate and re-brand, now managed by their son– a man you owed so much, had his heart not been filled with kindness you would most likely be in the streets. So you made sure his restaurant was the best, you had accolades, you’ve worked in some of the best restaurants, you were once a very prominent fast rising figure of the New York culinary scene– until Homelander came along.

Your talent revamped the restaurant and now your food was once again on the spotlight, for the first time since you left Vought, you were happy with yourself, even if it was pizza. Cooking made you happy, and this job needed you, you didn’t live in fear of sleeping in your car anymore, you didn’t need to worry that your daughter would sleep on somebody’s couch again, you were able to quit your third job and go casual on your second thanks to this place, right now you didn’t live in the best of places but you were saving up and in a couple months you’d have enough money saved up to move, and send your daughter to a better school, somewhere were her talents wouldn’t be wasted.

So here you were ten minutes before closing, another extra couple hours of overtime for your dream two bedroom apartment, where it would be safe for her, where you could finally feel like your life had moved on from him, that the door opened up and your cashier squealed.

It was a quaint looking restaurant, the wood seating was new and the wall decor had been changed trying to look less cluttered, with Art Deco lighting fixtures as the stand out feature. The place had been remodeled recently it seems, the kitchen and its big brick oven looked clean but ancient to Homelander, he stared at the menu board and metal boxes of accouterments by the counters, taking in that this was in fact a pizza place, that you of all people did in fact work at a pizza place. You who could whip up amazing fare, now made greasy cheap slices, but he had seen people come in and leave endlessly these past few days, people taking selfies, and recording themselves with your food, nothing he understood.

He looked back at the teenager on the counter offering his signature smile as she blubbered her script, then as you took a step closer knowing you couldn’t hide in this open kitchen you finally looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

Your throat collapsed and your whole body became prickly and tight, your heart was beating so fast you thought you might be having a heart attack, you looked at the clock cursing that it wasn’t over, you were almost done packing the kitchen and readying for tomorrow, having a customer at this hour was awful but having him here was about to take you to an early grave.

“What’s your best seller?” Homelander muttered looking straight at you with an aloof stare, then back at the cashier– is pizza night at my house, sorry for coming so late hope that’s not a problem?” he said exceedingly politely.

The teenager blushed and looked back at you as if asking you to pinch her.

“That would be our pepperoni queen– is two types of cheese, extra pepperoni, with our signature house made marinara, with a dash of vodka sauce in our sourdough thin crust… chili oil is optional” You had managed to say trying to ignore those piercing blue eyes, you moved back to your place staring at the few remaining trays of dough balls left– our second best seller is our chicken florentine pie.”

Homelander admittedly detested pizza, it was greasy, gooey and heavy, it was fattening and gross, but there was a familiar aroma in the room, something that was making his mouth water lightly. Looking back at the girl, he ordered both in their smallest size offered, he sat by one of the wooden booths for the ten minutes he was told to wait, and not once did he made a comment, maybe that’s why your heart stung so much, why it felt as if you were about to collapse– that after seven years, he had completely forgotten about you, while only now did you began to feel as if you could heal from all the suffering he’d cause you, how insignificant had you been all along, how you love never registered.

You both had talked of moving in together and buying a home, he wanted to buy you a restaurant, and you wanted to give him your life, you had never loved somebody as much as he made you love him, and now you were just some bum wearing a graphic t-shirt making him dinner.

You packed his food, your boss Kaleem had given him extras on the house, practically begging for Homelander to give them a photo for their socials and you simply stare as he did his superhero thing, you took one of the delivery bags knowing he would lose the food if he flew with them in hand.

After the photoshoot, Kaleem and your cashier had run to the back to show the picture to the only other staffer left at this hour.

You both looked at each other as he took the bag off your hands, you wanted to cry, your eyes welling up but you looked down afraid of him, no doubt he could hear your heartbeat tickling his ear.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?” 

You could’ve collapsed into tears right then and there, it was worse to be remembered.

Growing angry at the sound of his soft voice, and that concerned expression in his face.

“Yes…”

“How you been? Didn’t think I'd ever see you again.”

“Should’ve killed me back then… got fucking close to it tho.” You dropped all pleasantries, hearing him talk and not hearing the word sorry 5 seconds in, had infuriated you. His stupid face, those stupid eyes, and that clown suit was too much for you, maybe it was the poor diet and lack of sleep but right now you wanted to ban him from Lucci’s– hope you enjoy the food.”

You pushed the bag jumping from the kitchen to the front as you headed for the door, holding it open for him.

“I’m doing alright. Now leave!” 

“You don’t even want to know why I'm here?” he was taken aback by your brashness, you had always been sweet to him, tender, barely ever angry before, so why now?

“You got a little kid now, I gather like any other kid, he likes pizza… and good for him because mine is the best!”

“Not really… I actually wanted to see you. I… I just wanted to ask you something–

“Mother!!”

Your daughter emerged from the depths of the kitchen, she carried a kindle in one hand and a giftcard in the other.

“Is it okay if I use my present now? They got some books on sale and you said not to buy more books until I finished… oh…”

In the light and in front of him, your daughter truly looked like your mirror image, copy and pasted into a miniature. Her hair just past her chin, and her bangs indeed covered her eyes, peeking behind those curtains were the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen, there was no unnatural shine to them– just blue. Her lips so thin and her complexion just a tad paler than your own now that he gave it a proper look, she was so small-- too small for her age.

“Is okay honey, is your birthday you can get any books you want” Your tone shifted entirely lowering yourself to take her face and plant a quick peck on her cheek– now go back with uncle Kaleem and let mommy close shop, okay? We’ll go home in a minute.”

“Is it your birthday young lady? Congratulations.”

Homelander threw his best smile, giving the kid a cautious pet, catching the rage in your eyes as his gloved fingers touched your daughter.

“Thanks. Is not a milestone birthday so it is not worthy of congratulations… seems inane to celebrate it” she looked at her mother with a jaded expression– " I'll go get my bag, have a good night, sir.”

Homelander pressed his lip as the most deadpan voice came out of this little girl. Her oversized black sweater and the black tights made her look oddly unhappy, but the kid just stared at him with boredom, no surprise or interest when she stood next to America's favorite son.

He wondered if that was an adult or a seven year old for a second.

He worried if the kid had told his mother about that other night, but looking back at you he went with 'maybe'.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still forcing a smile– "my… you seem like a smart girl getting books for your birthday.”

“Helena.”

The kid couldn’t muster the energy to give him anything but her dead ass voice, she began to walk away not caring for manners, nor Homelander.

“She’s… cute.” he said watching that tiny figure walk away and surviving after her second nsult– great pronunciation for her age, does she even know what she’s saying?”

“Helena is not like other kids.”

“How so?” 

You looked at him more tired than anything, rubbing your temples as you made yourself waste spit to talk to him.

“She’s a Supe… by the time she was two she could speak in full sentences, by three she could read at a first and second grade level, and by five she was teaching herself calculus and piano… she’s a genius; I thought she was a normal genius until… her other powers manifested– none of this matters! Just go!” You shook your head in frustration.

“You gave her V?” He said while staring at Helena.

“... I didn’t know what V was until the news broke out, I thought Helena was chosen by God! That the world blessed her with those powers, but when that story came out I’ve been wanting to ask you– did you give her V? but… if you didn’t… who… are you lying to me, John?”

Homelander looked past the concrete walls looking back at that little girl, he didn’t know what to say or do, before you could utter another word he left.

Ryan nose picked the meal quickly, glad that it was friday and his dad would let him stay up ‘til late, Homelander just dropped the meal on their new table and the kid was quick on his feet, the food was still warm, only now did Homelander noticed the extras, couple of small containers holding chili oil and freshly made ranch, garlic knots and a lemon meringue pie, it was too much but Ryan hadn’t hesitated to dig in, before Homelander could ask him to wash his hands he had ripped a slice of pepperoni.

“This is so good!” He said so cheerfully– gosh I was starving, dad.”

“I sure hope so, bud… let’s leave the pie for tomorrow…” he looked grossed out, Ryan sat opening up the garlic knot’s containers– not gonna eat?”

Homelander sat down to join him, the thought of touching all those greasy surfaces was making his stomach hurl, but he relented, taking a slice. 

He was young again, and you were there coming back with some drinks as he ate your chicken florentine, this was the same recipe, the chicken was so juicy and the cheese wasn’t greasy. Ryan was shocked to see his father sound so happy as he took another bite.

It was the first time they both ate together where they felt completely comfortable with each other, maybe it was seeing Ryan not pick at his food that made Homelander able to just talk, Ryan told him all about his homework, and the videogame he was playing, he really liked Fifa at the moment even if he himself cared not for the sport.

Helena watched as her mother stood silently hovering above the sink, you hadn’t moved much for a couple of minutes, your daughter more annoyed than anything else regarding this display.

“How do you know Homelander?” she asked with a yawn.

“Huh?” you woke up from your trance– you should be in bed, darling.”

“You too. So… How do you know the clown?”

“Honey, don't say that!”

“He walks around wearing a onesie all day… like a clown… like the rest of those super clowns”

Your daughter always spoke with a creepy maturity, her voice didn’t belong to a kid.

“... He used to be my boss… he was a really bad boss…”

“You used to work for Vought?” She softened her stand.

“Honey… I don’t really want to talk about this… it's late and we are going to the museum tomorrow so you should get some sleep, mommy is just tired… hope you had a good birthday.”

“You should rest too, mother.”

Your daughter's eyes glowed momentarily turning th blinkers off before she made her way to bed, you stared at her door, thinking if she could see you.

No mother should think their child was creepy, Helena was just difficult and abrasive, to be a small kid with her brain must be unbearable. You could recall the moment she asked you about V so vividly, she looked angry, but you had no honest answer to give her, you had to lie, god knows if you got the details right about how these people committed these crimes. Helena simply had no ability to relate to people, and without the funds you couldn’t help her meet her potential, not while you were both stuck living in public housing, not while scraping every penny.

Her few friends forced her to dumb down and even they found her uneasy, only the old people seemed to handle her best, she loved to listen, and her teachers always thought of her as  a delight, yet she knew no other Supe beside herself, those pageants were expensive, and networking meetings were hard to get in, talent agencies were costly– having a super-abled kid and trying to make them into a Supe was locked behind a massive paywall, all you could hope was that her genius would let her enter a university early on scholarships.

There was always Godolkin, but god knows if they would let her enter at a young age.

It would be easy if her father was involved, if John was there in her life, she would have the world but he didn’t want her, he had made that clear years ago.

So why did he lie about the V? 

It had been two weeks since you seen Homelander, but he saw you a lot, he'd come back and forth-- watching you and the child with ardent curiosity, seeing you made him reminisce, of those many nights and afternoons, of the way no matter how tired you were, you always made sure to look happy when he showed up, the way you looked so at peace while cooking, of the feel of your skin against his and the taste of your precious lips as you kissed him good morning. 

He followed you, on your only day off as you took Helena around the city, watching you share a slice of overprice cake while taking notes, and ate cheap chinese for lunch, you waited for two hours as Helena played chess and checkers with some oldies at a chess shop, some russian man gave her lessons-- some of these people dressed nicely perhaps pros. Some won over her and some lost but the games were quick, your daughter seemed happier when she loss than when winning.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Homelander.

Somehow he found himself in your apartment, cracking open the window to sneak in while you headed back home– the tiny apartment felt more like a closet than a habitable space, the ceilign was run down, and the appliances ancient but well kept, your bedroom was simple, cooking books and boxes sat on top of your dressers, a single’s bed with plush comforters and pillows stuck against the wall, with a wardrobe in front of it, and a cheap fan tucked in the corner. He left for your daughter’s room just a few feet away divided by the bathroom were most of the clutter and laundry lived, her bedroom was just as plain, but the books didn’t seem fit for a small child, her desk tidy and organized, he picked up a notebook from the pile, seeing math equations that hurt his eyes within seconds. All her stuff were nice and new, she had a decent computer on top of her bed, an old dresser, but there was an absence of toys– compared to Ryan’s bedroom that was filled with anything he wanted and decorated expertly. A clock adorned her walls but not much else, the few things that looked messy was a tiny plastic chess set, the kind with magnets on the bottom, and some DIY stem kits.

He took to the bathroom, it was old and falling apart, mold was growing in the corner much to Homelander’s disgust, trolley held dozens of beauty stuff and shampoos and detergents, a shelf on the wall held towels and toilet rolls. Homelander looked at a sparkly hairbrush, picking a couple strands of lost hair knowing by their lengths and color that they weren’t yours, and cursing himself for doing this as he place them on small plastic bag he had hid in his glove.

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x reader #the boys fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #not proofread sorry #american royalty #already got 2 more chapters done for this hope yall like it #I really like slow burn stories #my natural enemy is the short story it seems #homelader x f!reader #dadlander #the boys oc

[seethesunny]

Prompt: Joel/Tess on a date but Sarah (knows Tess and adores her) doesn’t know yet that they’re dating, catches them at the movies or at the mall. Something innocent and adorable yet very smoochy!

It's been a while since I got this but this prompt was lovely! Happy belated birthday @bignosebushybrows and hopefully you had an amazing day ❤ and fingers crossed you like it:

When her uncle barged loudly inside their house, calling her downstairs and immediately showing her the keys of the car looped around his finger with a flashy grin, Sarah hadn’t thought much of it. Really, she would, over all things sacred, hate it if someone else had been entrusted to watch over her. 

But uncle Tommy was fun and, hopefully her daddy wouldn’t know if she lowered the voice inside her head just a little; Sarah liked going on with him because he let her do things on her own. 

Now, she did love her dad. More than she could try to put into words, more than she could ever describe, more than the countless stars that adorned the countryside sky when they visited the old ranch where they grew up. However, she was growing older, and there was so much freedom a girl of her age could get under the vigilance of her parents. And she had long gotten used to her daddy being overprotective, it was for her own good, and there was truth to it sometimes.

Tommy rolled the windows down and clicked on the radio, humming along, and she beamed on the passenger side.

Yet she liked this, and it wouldn’t do her harm. At the end of the day, there was someone supervising her, and Sarah understood her own limits and what risks she could encounter. 

“You gotta try the new arcade.” He said, messing up her hair, laughing at her scoff.

She couldn’t stop smiling, having talked long enough about that with her friends over the phone. 

“Sure will.” She agreed eagerly, wrinkling her nose at him playfully.

“And what are you gonna do while I’m nowhere to be seen? You aren’t gonna be scared, aren’t ya? ” He teased half-heartedly, earning a giggle out of her as he took a turn and drove through the park, a shortcut he always reminded her existed when they went this way. 

“I'm gonna use the money my daddy gave me, buy me some fries.” Sarah shrugged, playing with the bracelet around her wrist. “And you should take out Maria on a real date.” 

Tommy gave her a sidelong glare before staring ahead.

“Uncle, meeting her at the mall only is a disgrace to the Miller’s last name.” Not for the first time Sarah scolded, and Tommy almost put his hands up in surrender. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He joked, elbowing her gently while she frowned, right as they approached the parking lot. “Listen, I promise this is the last time.” 

“It better be.” Sarah gave, that chiding tone the same one she brought out so similar to her dad’s, and then she remarked seriously, elbowing him back. “You should buy her something nice.” 

Maria was a cool, charismatic woman who worked at the cash register in one of the stores—she had forgotten the name now—and her uncle was infatuated. He would use the excuse of taking her to the mall for an ice cream or to shop around, but then he would flirt with her while Sarah looked around, and it became common. 

Right now, her daddy had no clue, and she had zipped her mouth shut. 

Once inside, Sarah counted her money twice as Tommy mocked her without malice, barely disguising his impatience.

Maria’s store popped into view when they took the escalator, and Tommy kissed her forehead to her light-hearted complaint.

“Don’t get too far, ‘kay? And if you need anythin’ you know where to find me. Go have fun, kid.” He squeezed her shoulders, trusting her and letting her acknowledge it as she nodded. 

“Please, bring up the date before we leave!” Sarah exclaimed, waving a hand in the air before disappearing into a bright, big H&M store on her left. 

She took a break at the food court when she got thirsty, all the walking and observing and trying on clothes tiring her some, so she sat close to the cinema entrance and ordered some cinnamon sugar pretzels after drinking her lemonade. Munching on them, Sarah squinted in the fluorescent lights above her head.

It couldn’t be him, right? 

Sarah was sure of one thing: she could recognize her daddy on a crowd, and he just stood out with his physique. And he wasn’t alone! His arm was banded around a woman’s shoulders, leaning on him, and when she saw a glimpse of her face- 

“Ish that Tesh?” She murmured around a mouthful of food, crumbs drizzling around her lips; Sarah brushed them aside, pretzels being set apart as she scanned them thoroughly, not being noticed.

Accidents happened, and she could mistake some random couple; nonetheless, some meters between them couldn’t fuzz out the truth. Sarah leaned on he elbows, attempting to capture more as her daddy whispered something on Tess’s ear, who in turn smacked him gently on the chest and pressed their lips together. Oh, oh, so it was something serious.

Tess had been a constant presence in her life whose encouraging words were always at the ready, who had figuratively taken her under her wing since the first day, who was confident and relaying both—she was friend of the family, had known her for so long. The past summer, she had spent so many hours at their home teaching her how to work with clay, starting with easy things since Sarah was a beginner.

Had she been so blinded by her own joy as to not notice the signs? Tess surely showed up more, and her daddy had been a bit weird, in the sense that he would act differently around her, and once Uncle Tommy picked at him because he called her during work hours… 

Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, the dawning realization sticky like the cinnamon on the pad of her fingers, a gasp spilling out of her lips as they walked towards her seat. 

Sarah froze as there was no way she was exiting without being noticed, clutching a napkin to clean her fingers anxiously and blinking repeatedly at the wait for the inevitable.  

Warm eyes spotted her, their conversation drowned before being completely shut down, and then it was their turn to still like a deer caught in headlights.

Tess’s hands were intertwined with his, and Sarah fixed on it before her gaze darted between them, chewing the inside of her cheek.

The first one to regain her composure was Tess, laughing nervously. “Hey, hi Sarah. Nice to see you here.” 

Sarah rubbed her palms, clasping them together as she locked eyes with her daddy, who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Uh, baby girl.” He greeted gruffly, strained, but not dropping Tess’s hand at all. “How long have you-” 

“You have some explainin’ to do.” Is what Sarah opted to answer after chosing her words carefully, approaching them openly. 

Tess was the one who tilted her head and offered a relieving, small grin, offering her other hand. “Let’s go for a walk then.” 

Joel sighed heavily and scrubbed at his face with a hand, staring at them both afterward. “‘S a long story, Sarah.” 

“Got nowhere else to be, Daddy! I suspect we’ll be here for a long period of time.” She yelled to jab at them, who shared a quick, fleeting look, giving in easily. “At least you were in good hands.” 

A complicit wink at Tess—they both busted in giggles, he rolled his eyes, and urged them forward.

She wasn’t ready to go home yet.

#she came to the mall for some pretzels and went back home with a mom #my writing #my fic tag #J&T #asks #bignosebushybrows #seethesunny mailbox

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola! And a happy mid-Erotic Grope Fest to you all!!

Editing Ch. 2 of my EGF fic, Good morning, good night, good morning, continues apace! I was going to share a bit of that, but instead I found this tiny, completely unrelated story (a drablet?) when I was looking through editing notes:

Simon: (pauses in the middle of making out) Are we dating now? 

Baz: (falls out of bed) 

Baz: (slips on a banana) 

Baz: (tumbles down the stairs) 

Baz: (stands up) 

Baz: (smooths back hair) 

Baz: (puts on a suit) 

Baz: Yes. 

(tags & more writing blather behind the cut)

I'm at that Weird Point in editing Chapter 2 of my EGF fic so many times that I have lost perspective. Random thoughts will drift across my mind: "Is this funny? Why did I ever think this was funny?" and "This is 5K and yet it feels like nothing happens??"

I feel well-adjusted enough (at the moment) for this reminder to kick in: "My job isn't to judge whether the thing is good or bad. My job, right now, is just to edit." Writing Do Be Like That. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In other fun news, I found some notes from when I was editing Chapter 20 of Jelly Babies and my spouse (known on the internets as Earlobegreytea) was peeking over my shoulder:

Earlobegreytea: Was there kissin’ in this chapter? 

Me: No

Earlobegreytea: Was there kissin’ in the previous chapter? 

Me: Also no 

Earlobegreytea: No kissin’ Earlobegreytea: Just thinking about kissin’ Earlobegreytea: Just thinking about kissin’ a little Earlobegreytea: Keep ‘em in suspension 

And then he kept muttering about kissin' while he went to pick up milk. 😘🐄🥛

I've been up since six this morning, so I'm kicking off SSS with a long list of hello tags. Come out and play! (Or just rest and be cosy. Tha's cool too) @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @dohrnaira @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hushed-chorus @ionlydrinkhotwater @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @johnwgrey @larkral @martsonmars @moodandmist @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @raenestee @sailor-blossoms @shemakesmeforget @shrekgogurt @tea-brigade @thewholelemon @tectonicduck @technetiumai @theimpossibledemon @whogaveyoupermission @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

I wrote myself a permission slip to have fun and play this weekend, so I'm going to grab mini donuts and play pinball at an arcade called Phantom Amusements which is, sadly, not run by ghosts (as far as I can tell). Happy Sunday!

#six sentence sunday #ish??? #updates on my good egg #editing is weird #writing is weird #snowbaz #a driblet #a drablet #jelly babies #permission to play: granted #my fic tag

[wraithsoutlaws]

Fifteen lines Tagged by @chevvy-yates (thank you!) Rules: Post 15 lines (or less) of character dialog. You can include context for the scene if you wish!

"Found Hell at the bottom of a mine shaft. Looked the devil right in the eyes, but only one man walked back out. Still trying to figure which."

"Now you're just flirting, puppy."

"But here I am. Peachy-fuckin'-keen."

"It will be slow. Maybe it'll take days. I've done that before, you know. But you'll blow all the rest right outta the water. I'll hold you till you're cold."

"Don't worry. Just here for some fun."

"I like you, pet. You're too stubborn to die even if it's the only thing that'd bring you peace. Got that in common, you and I."

"Nobody goes near it, understand? Not in or out. Watch with your life or I'll end it."

"Guns in the front seat. You think you can reach it and hit me center 'fore I drive a knife through your carotid?"

"Quit bein' a bitch and shoot me."

"One particular night almost ended with my spleen cut out. That's when you know it's good."

"You can talk now or talk later. Only difference is how much blood you're gonna shed."

"I ain't trying to be a good person. I know what I am, and I got no reservations about it."

"I'll slice you into strips and bathe my sins in your blood."

"A man's car knows him better than anyone ever could."

"God is the only motherfucker who is crueler than me. But not by much."

tagging: @faepunkprince @therealnightcity @dreamskug @genocidalfetus @elvenbeard @streetkid-named-desire

(no pressure! tried to tag people who i've seen write but this is also an open invitation if you'd like to do it!)

#oc: dagger #my fic tag #I GUESS? #the real game is to guess which ones are flirting #the answer may surprise you #this place is so unusable its not linking blogs ive tagged so if you see it you see it if not im sorry v.v

[pavlovleowrites]

From @jegulus-microfic prompty for August 22nd Vulnerable (588 words)

When Regulus gets hit by the bludger, he knows right away from the searing pain that he is about to pass out. A few hours later, as he wakes up inside the Infirmary, groggy and sore, it still gives him a sense of satisfaction to know he was right.

As his eyes flutter open and adjust to the lack of light, Regulus realizes three things : first, it is the middle of the night, two, that he must have had several broken bones that are currently mending — thanks to Mrs Pomfrey—, three, that James Potter is asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Of all these things, the one that twists his stomach the most was the presence of the sleeping boy. James is breathing softly, head falling forward on his chest and arms crossed, still wearing his Quidditch uniform, the golden Captain badge shining with the lowlights of a few candles lit around the Infirmary. He’s got a slightly disheveled appearance with his tousled brown hair and the way his glasses dangle dangerously at the end of his nose. His face is scrunched in discomfort. He looks so open and vulnerable at that moment.

WIthout thinking about it, Regulus finds himself reaching for the boy’s glasses, hoping to be able to put them on the side to avoid them falling off. The sharp pain that pangs from his elbow all the way to the end of his toes made him whine in distress. The sound must have been louder than he attended, because James' eyes shot open suddenly, and he surges forward to help him adjust.

«Don’t move, love, I’m so sorry, Marls got you bad. »

Regulus' only answer is a hum of pain, trying to reign him the awful tingling sensation that is cutting through his body like an army of knife leaving him defenseless.

« I’m so sorry Regulus, it was a dick move, I told her, I’m sorry. »

Regulus can see the distress in James’ big doe eyes, the hazel of his pupil shining brightly, tired.

« Why are you here ? » Regulus finally manages.

« I know you don’t like to wake up alone, and I figured it was my fault, my players, my responsibility you know ? »

Regulus inhales sharply, trying to process the pain as much as James’ words.

« Oh love, I’m so sorry, I was so worried. »

« You shouldn’t let people see how worried you are. »

James frowns but still asks softly, indulging, « why is that, love ? »

« They’ll know your weaknesses. »

The smile that splits James’ face is blinding. His whole gorgeous face lighting up.

« Oh but love, that’s why I’ve got you, when I’m vulnerable, I know you’ll be my strength. »

Something warm and pleasant spreads from through Regulus’s veins, his heart beating a bit quicker at the statement.

« Is that what you’re doing for me here ? »

« Oh no, don’t worry, love, even in your sleep there’s nothing vulnerable about you. » then with a cheeky smile, as one hand cradles Regulus’ cheek softly « there’s only one time I’ve known you to be vulnerable. »

« Oh really, and when was that ? » Regulus’ tone is quiet but playful as he leans into the feeling of James caressing his face.

« Maybe i should remind you if you forgot… » and the feather light brush of James’ lips against his own quickly dissolves into something more pressing. It numbs all the pain in his body.

In James’ arms, Regulus might be defenseless but he’s never felt so safe.

#jegulus microfic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #the marauders #fic rec #my fic tag

[harringrieve]

I FUCKING POSTED THIS ON MY MAIN FIRST💀💀💀

Anyway, after a bout of ennui, I grabbed this from my notes drafts bc it started glitching and I’m nervous it’ll delete smth by accident

Somewhere btwn s3/4 I THINK, in a govt hospital wing

“Whaddayou doin here, Harring-har-“

The word seems to get stuck malfunctioning somewhere between his brain and his mouth, as he blinks tiredly, still trying to figure out where the fuck he actually is.

“Oh you know”, gestures around with the folded magazine in his hand, “just uh, makin sure the scientists don’t, like, cart you off to, a- a different secret lab or somethin”

Lab? His tongue is dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth. Scientists? Billy’s brain fuzzily processes what Harrington’s insinuating, the alarm creeping up slowly.

“…..That’s a concern?”

“Oh yeah, big time. Also you’re lucky you woke up when you did, Nancy was supposed to take over next watch shift, and she’s not NEARLY as uh…..chipper as I am.”

“That so.”

“Yeah, no, I think Click-clack is givin her guff for some thing she submitted? I don’t know, she’s tetchy.”

“Have no idea what that means, also quick question-”

“Yeah”

“What the fuck is goin on?”

Harrington’s eyebrows raise as he puffs his cheeks and blows out a big breath,

“Oh jeez man, I don’t think I have enough- fuckin like, brain power to get into the whole thing right now-“

“Ugh, figures”, Billy shuts his eyes again and rests his head back, suddenly over being awake.

“Wh-hey, fuck you, I could be at home right now, instead of this creepy ass lair, but no, we gotta make sure Billy Hargrove doesn’t get vanished by the government.”

Lair? where are they? Harrington doesn’t seem that married to the petulant shit he’s saying anyway, it feels like it’s more just to have something to do. In any other situation Billy would feed the fuck into this, enjoy every button he’s pushing, but FUCK is he tired. His whole body feels like fuzzy static. Fuzzy achy static.

“She’s helping Murray set something up for you”

“What?” His face kinda hurts when his brows twist, giving up his half-assed attempt at sleep.

“Nancy,” he clarifies, “we had a whole exit strategy to get you outta here when you woke up. Get you like, back on your feet and fuck off into the sunset or whatever Max thinks you where gunna do”

Max.

“…….Why are you doin all this?” It’s barely a question really, more like a blank murmur, devoid of any inflection that could give Harrington the slightest hope of gauging Billy’s emotional state.

Steve heaves another slow measured breath, and looks slightly away from Billy, as if to try to remember why himself.

He blinks a few times, makes a vague shrugging gesture with like, the upper half of his body, then shakes his head a little, “Cause fuck these guys.”

Billy almost choked a little, deigning to open his eyes again and glance over.

“Yeah?” He asks with an audibly and visually confused smile, like he’s trying not to laugh at the ridiculous nature of Steve’s statement.

“Yeah, everything’s been their fault for like three years now. I’ve fought shit I wouldn’t put my worst enemies against. Fuckin vile.” He slumps back a bit, “You’re a dick, but like,…” he doesn’t seem to really have much of an answer past that, “Fuck em.”

[later]

“Maaan, Pick a story asshole, either I’m a slut who can’t be friends with girls, or I’m a freak loser, make up your mind”

[Robin walks in]

“What are we talking about?” She sounds like a mix of horrified, delighted, and grossly intrigued.

“He thinks we’re like,” gesturing between himself and Robin, “-secretly in love, or dating, or something”

Robins face scrunches up, “Ew.”

Steve makes a wide sweeping gesture at her, “THATS WHAT I SAID!”, and looks pointedly back at Billy, as if to say, ‘There, see?’

“Jesus, alright, you’re both undateable losers.”

“Oh, he has no problem getting dates-“ completely disregarding and breezing past Billy’s direct insult to her dateability

“The fuck, Rob-“

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, encouraging whatever sly shit she’s onto.

“I don’t know what you guys where sayin earlier about him bein a slut, but it’s not factually incorrect.”

Billy’s well-known cackle bursts outta him for the first time in months.

Steve just seems to deflate with the power of his sigh, arms momentarily thrown up in the air in defeat before landing down against his jeans with a pointed SLAP as he sinks further down into the uncomfortable chair he’s been lounging in this entire time.

“Rob, what are you even doin here-“ he starts off, obviously trying to divert the topic of conversation, god he’s so whiney sometimes, Billy’s kinda obsessed with it, “wait-HOW are you even here?” His tone switches to confused disbeleif, eyeing her with confusion.

“I own a bike, dingus, and I have functioning legs.”

His eyebrows screw together, “You live like, ten minutes by car from here- whaddoyoumean you ‘rode your bike’, it’s like 90 degrees out-“ he flings an arm out towards the windowless wall.

“Jeez, okay mom, I-“

“Have you had anything to drink? Are you even wearing sunscreen?”

“I’m fine! It’s nice out-“

“It’s the middle of august !”

“It’s the beginning of august, first of all-“

“Heat strokes not a joke Bobbin, you can get-“

“Yes I know, Stevert, I’m in band, I’m outside wearing synthetic hell clothes for practice all summer-“

“Yeah, standing, not biking who knows how many miles uphill in the sun.”

Billy finally interjects, “Jesus I take it back, you’re obviously divorced.”

He gets twin looks of scandal.

“How dare you, first of all-“

“I would never-“

Billy just snorts and settles back into his sheets, “Sure, whatever.”

After a moment of silence

“Actually, Nancy dropped me off on the way to Forrest hills.”

“Oh, you bitch.” Steve breathes out right before Robin breaks out laughing.

Robin and Steve continue sniping back and forth, this time in Italian, Steve rapid-fire, Robin more careful and deliberate.

#billy x steve #steve x billy #stranger things fic #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my fic tag #long post #jic #harringrove

[krikeymate]

hand in unlovable hand

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!”

Inside, she screams.

Outside, she stares ahead, mask a perfect blank expression, forged from years of disappointment and fitting as snugly as the endless array of gloves that have adorned her hands since childhood.

She takes another swig from the bottle, bare fingers stiff and frozen against the glass.

Typical Theo.

Drink to forget, to drown, to cope.

Not a sound leaves her lips.

She’d wished before that Nell would just leave her alone.

Stop calling, stop texting, stop expecting.

But for whatever fucking reason, here she sits beside her – her – body making not a dent on the sheets.

Because she’s not really here, is she?

Theo has one last chance to tell her to leave, to close that book, to move forward.

But as she glances to the side, acknowledges the spectre despite the way her mind begs her to go, and looks into the soft sad eyes of her baby sister, she knew it was an impossible ask.

There’s no moving on.

Not for Nell, not for Theo. Not for their family, not truly.

How could she leave this behind?

Her hand moves without permission, hovering above a body she’ll never get to touch again.

She wishes she could blame the ice on her fingertips and the numbness in her veins on the ghost.

It’s Nell’s fault to be sure, there’s no doubt about that, but this is a cold that comes from within, her own grief twisting its way through her body and suffocating any warmth there once was.

Her little sister. The baby.

To feel one who was once so full of love so empty…

Tears slip from her face as fingers press down, a prickle of warmth tickling her skin.

She can’t look away from delicate features and blue eyes, can’t bear to look down and discover her mind playing tricks, deceiving her in an act of protection, hand on the sheets, phantom dissipating beneath her very touch.

She doesn’t want her sister to leave.

She’s not ready.

She wasn’t ready.

She’d spent so long waiting for one more call, one more text.

She just wanted an apology.

She thought she’d have another chance.

She thought- she thought-

“please don’t go”

The words are barely more than a breath, let alone a whisper, but Nellie hears her.

She always hears her. Theo regrets that she can’t say that same.

And she smiles.

It’s been so long since Theo’s seen Nell smile.

It’s like a bright summer day, laughter and innocence, a warm hand slipping into hers.

Theo clenches her own hand, fingers wrapping around someone no longer there.

She won’t let go.

She won’t.

Not this time.

#/mp #The Haunting of Hill House #Theo Crain #Nell Crain #look. i don't know how this happened. but i have A LOT of feelings for these girls and now i've got a doc full of snippets i need to use. #my writing tag