#vp fics

[lightningsprinter-blog]

A Star is Born, Commy?

((this is gonna be set in their Normal Canon bc i can’t sEE dispatch getting famous bc there’s SO MANY HEROES )) 

The crowds were going wild on screen, cheering for their beloved heroes - all of them were standing on the stage, waving and laughing, but Commando knew they were all cheering for her. 

Five years of being a hero was a tough thing to accomplish, he knew. And yet Dispatch had clawed her way to the top, snarling and beating off anyone who tried to take her place in the group of five - and they were a group, a strong team, though they had their differences. But out of everyone, Dispatch always got the loudest cheers, she always had the biggest fan-bases (Vermillion came in a close second, tied with Captain Obvious) and always had the special interviews in magazines and newspapers. 

The people loved her. 

They’d clamour for interviews, stop her whenever she was out in the street - Dispatch could barely leave the house without being in costume, she’d be swarmed. She was a celebrity, more famous than the movie stars and pop idols, because she saved lives. They saw her work live, watched her protect the people she’d sworn to look after. 

And the fame looked good on her. 

Dispatch was, essentially, the queen of their city. And Commando loved watching her, always had the TV or radio on in the background when he was tinkering with his next robot, working out his next big plans - plans for the city, his next attempt to take over the world. But listening to the announcers cheer her on, excitedly commentate the action; it was almost like a sport, really - it made his chest swell and a warm feeling sit in his gut, leaving him with a tiny little smile for the rest of the day. 

Because Dispatch was famous, and she was tearing up the world around superheroes and good deeds, and he knew she could have whatever she wanted, all she had to do was ask. But at the end of the day, when he was tired, beaten, bloody and bruised, he’d hear his door slide open and she’d pad into his underground lair, a soft smile on her face and some sort of food with her, sinking into his arms with a soft little happy sigh, and he’d know that he’d won. 

DIspatch; superstar, superhero and taking the world by storm, had chosen him. Him. An alien sent to earth with the intent to conquer and add it to his parents collection, with nothing but a title and a small minion that trotted around after him, wasting his time on giant robots, and she’d chosen him. So yeah, she might have been famous, had all the world fawning over her, but sometimes Commando felt a little bit popular too, a little bit famous whenever she kissed his cheek, or told him she loved him. 

[lightningsprinter-blog]

Comfort Me, Foible and Dispatch

His hands shook slightly while he waited for Dispatch to let him in, looking around the ridiculous expanse of a lobby with a knot in his gut. He’d never been to a penthouse before, and she’d thrown open the door so casually, invited him up, and...well. 

Foible didn’t really enjoy feeling nervous. 

The lift dinged in front of him and he looked up, spotting a mop of red hair and Dispatch stepped out, looking...awful. He’d heard about her breakup only a day ago and his gut twisted at seeing her so down, bags under her eyes and clothes somewhat disheveled. But she smiled at him and he tried to smile back, following her in and greeting her with polite conversation. 

-

After a quick tour of her apartment, Foible’s jaw almost hitting the ground at the view she had to offer they’d wound up camped on her couch, a tub of ice cream brought around a few days earlier sitting between them while she tried her hardest not to get any closer to him. They’d managed to avoid talking about That, but Foible knew sometimes it just had to be talked about. 

“How’ve you been handling it, then?” 

Dispatch flinched, looking up at him with wide eyes, and he wanted to crawl into a hole at the expression she had. “I mean, with--with the whole, uh...shit,” He mumbled, scratching at his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, if you don’t want to talk, it’s --” 

“I’ve been struggling to sleep, actually.” Came her soft reply and Foible immediately clapped his mouth shut, staring at her. She was wringing her hands, clearly uneasy. “I mean, you spend like...nearly four years sharing a bed practically every night and then nothing? It’s...it’s really getting to me. And I’m, like...I’m so used to having him here, somewhere close by, and...nothing. I have no idea how to deal with it, I’m just...” 

Dispatch sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder and he swallowed, slowly reaching around to rub her back. “Hey, it’ll be okay, yeah?” 

“Fuckin’ better be...” She grumbled, shifting to get comfortable, cheek still resting on his shoulder. “I hate feeling like shit.” 

Foible chuckled quietly and kept his arm around her, falling back into quiet, casual conversation until she stopped answering and he glanced down, noticing she’d fallen asleep. 

And if she hadn’t been sleeping well lately...

Foible sighed quietly, trying to make sure she was comfortable before settling in with his phone, waiting for her to wake up.