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ive never seen fr have less than 1000 ppl online at once…………………..

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Leave my goddess alone! Since she’s in this sequel, she has to do something Kagome screwed up or help Kagome because she said she had a request.
Give her the goddamn rest fandom. She is back, which means that Kikyou is an important character even after her death, although I know that she will appear for a while or may not appear anymore.
I am happy to see my goddess

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CHAPTER 4: Critical Darling

Ship: Homelander/Dreamweaver(OC)

Warnings: I don’t really think any apply, it gets fairly emotional this chapter, and Homelander gets a bit yandere, since most of the perspective of this chapter focuses on his thoughts and feelings.

He inhales deeply, composing himself as he stands outside her door. He’s spent the past few days avoiding her, avoiding the discussion that is sure to follow their last encounter. Even now he’s unsure if he’s willing to follow through. He bites the inside of his cheek nervously, using his x-ray vision to peek into her suite.

She’s sitting on her couch, a colorful box of various…somethings strewn out across the glass coffee table. There’s a soft smile on her face, and his breath hitches ever so slightly; he’s almost jealous.

When was the last time he smiled so easily?

Unlike the other heroes, Homelander has no life whatsoever outside of Vought. The curiosity and envy he feels over…whatever is making her smile outweighs any trepidation he had felt about seeing her again.

Darcy startles at the weighty knock on her door, getting up to answer it with a confused furrow to her brow. She looks out the peephole, and her heart thuds. She hadn’t even seen Homelander since their incident in the closet; she certainly wasn’t expecting him to turn up at her private suite. She’s not sure if she wants to deal with him right now, and briefly considers pretending she’s not home.

“You know I have x-ray vision right? I can see you,” he says through the door.

She sighs, and opens up. He tenses at the look on her face, her nervous confusion a far cry from that pretty smile she wore only a minute ago. He knows he’s far from her favorite person, but seeing her expression change so quickly when she saw him was…disheartening. “Can I come in?” He asks, as though his throat is suddenly very dry.

She stares at him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not it’s a good idea to let him in. She decides that whether it’s smart or not is irrelevant, figuring that he’d be insufferable later if she turns him away now…she doesn’t need the headache.

She steps aside, allowing him to walk into her suite. He pretends to look around for a bit, but quickly makes his way to the coffee table, fingers tracing along the glass as he gets a look at the object of his interest. “What’s all this?”

“Oh.” She walks over to him, packing up the various trinkets into the box. “I’m putting together a care package for my brother.”

“You have a brother?” He tries, and fails, to sound completely casual; instead his voice waivers, giving a hint of awkwardness.

The truth is, being a lab experiment, Homelander doesn’t have any siblings, the closest thing he has being The Seven…and they aren’t exactly…familial.

“Yeah,” she answers cautiously. “He’s twelve, been living with our grandparents for a couple of years now,” she smiles fondly, pulling up a selfie of the two of them on her phone to show him. “We were really close before I came to Vought, so every month I like to put together a box of cool stuff I find in the city, so he doesn’t miss me too much.”

Homelander puts on a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes; jealousy building up again at the sight of the happy siblings. “Looks like a pretty happy kid.”

Yeah,” she sighs, pressing her lips together like she was going to say more, but decided against it. He’s about to push her to finish her sentence when a loud timer goes off in the kitchen.

“Oh!” She steps quickly away from him. “Hey, why don’t you have a seat while I go check on that?”

He does as she asked, sinking down into the plush sofa while she picks up a quick stride to the kitchen. As he watches her, it occurs to him that this is the first time he’s ever seen her outside of her uniform. She looks so comfortable. He swallows awkwardly, unsure of how to feel about the domesticity of the moment.

Whatcha cookin’?” He calls after her, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Be patient!” She scolds him, an unfamiliar humor to her tone.

He’d been scolded before, of course. Usually he wasn’t a fan, but this felt…different; almost friendly.

He doesn’t have to wait too long, Darcy walking out of the kitchen with a big tray of homemade cookies. His eyes widen as the aroma hits his nose, the scents of brown sugar and chocolate harmonizing beautifully. She sets the tray on the coffee table, having a seat next to him; careful not to touch him, he notices.

“Want one?” She asks, opening up a little paper bag and stuffing a stack of cooled cookies into it.

He doesn’t waste any time, leaning past her to grab one. “Absolutely.”

His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he sinks his teeth into the oven-fresh cookie, savoring the whole sensation. And there it is, that warm smile of hers, except this time it’s for him. His heart nearly skips a beat as she chuckles softly. “Been a while since you had a homemade cookie?”

He takes a moment to answer, the words caught in his throat. “Yeah, you could say that.” In truth, he had never had a homemade cookie, no home-baked goods, actually. Sure, he could order whatever he wanted from Vought’s private kitchens, but that had nothing on these cookies, made from scratch and prepared with love. There’s that jealousy again.

“I put together this recipe myself, it’s my brother’s favorite,” she beams proudly. “I used to bake them for him all the time when we were kids.”

“Sounds like you’re a really good sister,” he forces out the words.

This is a happy moment, don’t make it bitter

But he can’t shake the bubbling envy inside of him, because the truth is, she didn’t make these cookies for him. He watches her as she carefully places a few sleeves of cookies in the box, prattling on about how well her brother’s doing in school or something, a deep scowl fighting its way into his face. She’s acting so pleasant now, but he knows that in truth, she’d rather he not be here. He had wondered if maybe she was different, but she’s just like everyone else. Too afraid of him to be anything but nice, and too fucking two faced to admit it.

Ya know,” she says, getting his attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in plain clothes.”

His brow furrows. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in plain clothes,” he crosses his arms, plastering on a petulant grin. “Great fashion sense, by the way.”

“These are my pajamas,” she defends herself. “You know, comfortable clothes for sleeping in? You do sleep don’t you?”

He finds himself fixating on the way her nose crinkles up when she’s frustrated, it’s much cuter now than out in the field. He scoffs, playing at offense, relaxing back into the couch. “Of course I sleep, what kind of stupid question is that?”

She’d be offended if she didn’t catch the grin threatening to turn up the corners of his mouth. “Okay Ass, what I mean is that everyone else in The Seven has plain clothes paparazzi leaks; you’re the big guy, and I’ve never seen you out of that suit.”

“Do you want me to take it off?” He teases, eyebrow raised suggestively.

She laughs, shaking her head. “Okay fine, dodge the question.”

He shrugs theatrically. “Your loss.”

“I think I’ll survive.” She turns back to finish up packing the care package.

He can’t help but drop his grin, mood souring as her focus leaves him. Can’t she finish that up after he leaves? It’s polite to pay attention to guests, right? Never mind the fact that he came uninvited.

“To be honest,” she turns to look at him, sealing the box. “I was fucking terrified when I saw you at the door.”

He slaps on a fake smile, barely concealing his thoughts. “Is that so?

She sits back into her corner of the couch, pulling her legs up onto the cushion. “Are you surprised? You tried to fucking kill me the last time I saw you.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, grabbing another cookie before settling back into the couch. “Well…if I had really wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” he argues, almost playfully, almost a threat; glad for the attention to be back on him.

She scoffs, shaking her head with an exasperated smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She stretches a bit, the bruises he gave her still evident on her pale skin. He feels a pang of guilt…and something else. “Anyway, I was trying to say that it’s…kind of nice having you here.”

His eyes widen, he had not expected that. It doesn’t follow the script, not part of the narrative that seems to guide his life.

“Kind of fucked up, isn’t it?” She says with a tired grin. “Maybe I’m just lonely…it’s just…nice, to have someone to sit and talk to for a change.”

“Well that’s a little pathetic,” he says in his usual snarky tone. “When you put it that way.”

She launches her throw pillow at him, knocking the cookie out of his hand mid-bite. “You ass!

“Hey, I’m not the one enjoying a night in with the guy who tried to kill me,” he grins, showing a bit too much tooth. “You have to have other options.”

You don’t,’ she can’t help but think, eyes going a bit sad. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and he pokes his tongue into his cheek uncomfortably. Pity, is not a thing he’s used to getting. It doesn’t feel good.

Hey…” she starts, awkwardness palpable. “You knocked on my door didn’t you?”

“You’re right,” he pushes through gritted teeth.

She scoots a little closer to him on the couch, her pulse rising notably. He looks at her, confused furrow to his brow, just in time for her to place her hand over his; her breath shuddering as she touches the bare skin.

Don’t,” he whispers, making no attempt to pull away. “I know it hurts you.”

It hurts you every day,” she whispers, closing her eyes as his pain envelopes her. “I’ve never met anyone so alone.”

He can feel her hand trembling against his, and something inside of him stirs. His chest heaves, and he takes her hand in his, running his thumb gently across her knuckles. He opens his mouth to speak, but sighs instead, unable to find the words.

Knowing how you feel…I know I don’t owe you anything…but,” she opens her eyes, red from holding back tears. “I can’t bring myself to let you go.”

“What does that mean?”

I don’t know…

His grip on her hand tightens, hurting her a bit, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “This is crazy,” he whispers, at least half to himself.

“Imagine how I feel,” she says with a melancholic laugh. “It’s not even my pain.”

He smiles, softly, real. “It is now.”

He watches her laugh, whole and genuine.


She doesn’t even know it yet, but he’s already decided that they’re going to be together…no matter what he has to do to make it happen.

TAG LIST: @vi-er @lindasreasonstocommit

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i had a breakdown in my groupchat w friends once and my name was like, galos hairy weenie hole or something

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