#(aside from the whole grey matter industries thing) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiftingforsteveandbucky · 3 years

Text

I Hate You, but I Don't {part one}

prompt : Stucky and reader who pretend to hate each other, even though they both love each other. reader gets badly hurt on a mission causing both Steve and Bucky to tell reader their feelings.

Quick 3 parter, may end up being horrible please leave feedback

Warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers. argument, yelling, injuries, cussing

3rd Person POV:

"Just stop, just fucking leaving me alone. Just because you're in charge doesn't mean your in charge of me!" Steve's jaw dropped in shock and anger. Everyone in the kitchen was shocked and didn't know what to say. "That's exactly what that means. When you signed up to be an avenger, you signed up to be bossed around!", Steve yelled, not so used to being disobeyed so outright. Wanda tried to step in between Y/N, with on withering look from both of you she immediately backed up. "I'm done, if you want to talk when you stop being such a dick, then you know where to find me." Y/N spoke with distaste and anger. Everyone was frozen in place, Steve's anger on the brink of overflow. "Captain Rogers, you are requested to the meeting room along with Sergeant Barnes. It is of urgent matter sir." Friday spoke over the speakers. Steve started walking to the elevator, heading for Bucky's room.

Steve's POV:

I hit the 10th floor button on the elevator, just wanting to talk to Buck. "Hey, Buck open up! We have to go to the meeting room, now, apparently its urgent!" I started pounding on his door. The doorway slowly opened up to revel Bucky with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, hair freshly washed and water droplets cascading down his abs. "Stare much." Buck chuckled lightly, "Get dressed and lets go. We need to be down there quickly." I rushed him, cheeks flushed.

Time Skip-outside the meeting room. (Y/N's POV)

"I really don't want to see Steve right now, unless he has an apology ready for me I don't want to talk to him." I thought to myself. U slowly open the meeting room door to be greeted with the sight of not only Steve but Bucky as well. "My brain really can't handle two idiots at the same time right now." I quietly whispered to myself. Apparently not quiet enough because the next things I hear is a scoff from Steve and a "Is that so doll?" I roll my eyes at them both and go to sit down in the stiff grey office chair. "Ya'know Tony with all the money you have at your disposal, you think we would more comfortable chairs." I lightly chuckled alongside Tony while Bucky rolled his eyes. "Hey Barnes, keep rolling your eyes maybe you'll find a brain back there." I laughed. He scowled and looked at Tony, "Can you just tell us why we're here? I want to get as far from Y/N as humanly possible." Bucky questioned. Tony stepped aside, "I will let Friday do all the talking. Friday hit it!" "Yes sir, as all of you can see we have located a Hydra base. They have plans to storm New York and try to take down Stark Industries. For some reason they had all this information stored on a file on they easily hackable server. Now this is where you come in. Mr. Stark needs you to go to the base and infiltrate it. You need to find anything and everything in that building. We are not able to send everybody out because it is a stealth mission. that is the reason Mr. Stark chose you three to complete this mission. Agent Y/N, you will need to sneak into the Hydra base with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, look through the whole building, find any and all information and bring it back to Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner. The quinjet will leave tomorrow afternoon at 7 sharp. I understand from hearing your altercation in the kitchen earlier today that there is tension between Captain Rogers and Agent Y/N. However this mission requires teamwork, cooperation, consideration, communication and open eyes and ears. Mr. Stark would like you to try to resolve it or temporarily solve the altercation before you all leave for the mission. That is all, Mr. Stark will dismiss you soon."

This is it for Part one of I Hate You, but I Don't. If you have any suggestions for other stories or any suggestions on how to fix this story please let me know. Love you all!! <3333

40 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

786 notes · View notes

catxsnow · 3 years

Text

AFTER HOURS chapter four

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N:

Word Count: 3.3k

Tim sat in his desk at Wayne Enterprises. His head was tilted back and his eyes sealed shut. It wasn't just the fact that he was tired and sore from his previous night out on patrol, but the fact that he was worried. Worried for her, her company, her well-being. He was worried that she was being too rash to get the recognition she deserved.

It had been a week since their last encounter and since she had made all those sudden involvements. There were several press conferences that were held for her and each of them led to the same thing: she was going to be seen as the best business woman in Gotham - the best CEO in Gotham.

For the first time in a long time, Gotham believed her. They looked past the headline that was made of her a week ago and saw that she was the person that Gotham needed. They asked her serious questions like what her company's future was going to be like, where she was getting this funding - not who that man was that she went home with.

Her plan, though risky, had worked. She was getting treated like the CEO that she was, not the little girl that she was four years ago. Though Tim was worried, he was also proud of everything she accomplished. However, with her sudden changes, that put his own company in a tough spot. He was suffering, and it was because of her.

So what was he to do? Push back? Take away everything that she worked so hard to accomplish? That would have been an act of war, one that he wasn't willing to risk. For now, he pushed forward with his own plans, not rushing and not delaying them. There was nothing else that he could do.

Not to mention that his Gala that he was hosting was only two days from now. Everything had been set - except for the fact that (Y/N) still hadn't given him her confirmation of coming. She was right, it had been four years of knowing each other and not once had she shown up. Why would she now?

Why was he disappointed this time that she wasn't planning to make an appearance? Tim found himself going to her more often. He wanted to spend time with her outside of just fucking. It seemed that he had been pushing his luck with her anyways. Deep talks when their sex was over, longer times together. They never used to do that.

So why now? Why after all this time was he pushing to be with her more. Why was she letting him? Time after time she always told him that no one could know. What they had was purely in secret, and most importantly what they had was just sex. Nothing besides sex, they weren't supposed to be even friends.

Why did Tim consider her one of his best friends? She was the person that he wanted to go to when times were hard. Sure he had Conner and Bart, but sometimes they just didn't understand his issues the same way that she did. She always seemed to know what was right.

Tim wiped his hands down his face and let out a tired groan. He wanted this week to be over already. Aside from this stupid gala he had to do, he had plans with his friends. It had been a long time since he had seen the Titans and he missed them.

Not as much as he missed her.

"Mr. Wayne?" His secretary buzzed into his office. Tim snapped himself out of his daze and asked what she had wanted. "You have a call on line one. She didn't say her name." Tim narrowed his eyes - was this someone who knew his secret identity? Someone prepared to threaten Wayne Industries?

Tim grabbed the phone, he never got the chance to speak before the woman spoke. "I can hearing you sighing all way the way in my own building, Tim."

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim smiled at the sound of her voice. He spun around in his chair to look out the window to her own building. If he had a pair of binoculars, he could have seen her standing at her window staring back at her. "What do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you today?" More so, how did she knew that he was just thinking of her?

"I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads up that you've got reporters coming your way wanting to know your opinion about my recent... purchases," she told him. Tim had managed to avoid them for as long as he could, it was no surprise that they would find someway to corner him.

"I appreciate it," Tim thanked her. "Before you go. I just wanted to let you know that you still have an invite to my gala on Friday."

"I gave you my answer and I'm staying by it," She told him after a moment of hesitance. Now more than ever she couldn't go to his gala. She swore that she could hear Tim's disappointment at her answer.

"I can't convince you to?" Tim tried once more. She was unsure if he meant sex or business - either sounded tempting to her. However, having to dress up in heels and act fake around people that supported Tim - and her - sounded terrible. She didn't know how he could host so many.

"Goodbye Tim."

Fuck.

Friday mornings always seemed easier than any other day of the week. Maybe it was because after that long day of work, it was nothing but relaxation for the next two. It didn't matter, she looked forward to Fridays every week. Except this week.

Tonight was Tim's gala. It was all over the news in Gotham, as well as the front page of every newspaper. Tim's cheery smile filled every media, as well as the kind words he had to say for the reason of hosting. He was raising money to build the new orphanage down town Gotham for the kids on the streets.

Who could say no to that?

To make matters worse, her name also filled the paper. One of the reporters had asked if she was to be attending the gala. Tim answered as kindly as he could - stating that she had already made a massive donation and that she was too busy with her own projects to be able to attend. Of course, they had made her name look bad in order to make his better.

She sighed and turned off the TV as the news reporter called her out for being to preoccupied in her own tower to think of the poor children on the streets. That wasn't the case, that was far from the case. In fact, she was completely free that night and was able to attend. It was the matter of her not wanting to go.

"Mr. William," she smiled as her head advisor walked into the office. He had been close to her parents when they were running the company. Through the years, he became the closet thing to a father figure in her life. "What can I help you with today?"

"It's a matter of what can you help yourself with today, Ms. (L/N)," He sat in the chair. Mr. William couldn't have been much older than fifty. He had a kind smile and the belly of a beer drinker, though she had known for a fact that he hadn't had a sip in twenty odd years. His hair was speckled grey and glasses were always slipping down his nose.

"I think you should attend Mr. Wayne's gala," he admitted. She rolled her eyes at his proposition. "The two of you are friends, good friends. Why not let the people know that you are? Why keep up this charade that you hate each other? Gotham would be far better off if we united with Wayne Enterprises."

She couldn't exactly tell him that she didn't want to whole city to find out that they were fucking on the side. She still didn't even want them to know that they were friends. For years her company and WE had been at war with each other, she didn't want the people to think she was weak for suddenly siding with him and giving up.

"The news is already giving you a bad rep for not attending. It's been four years since you've started here, and not once have you attended. I know you've made you donation but I really think it would help give better morale for you to go. Just think about it, yeah?"

"Thanks, Mr. Williams." He was right. The press was giving her a hard time for never going. They did this every time that he had a gala and she stated that she wasn't going to attend. Why did it bother her now? Why did she know deep down that Mr. William was right about everything? Maybe because he was. Or maybe she was just tired of the charades.

Fuck.

(Y/N) was nervous quite often. It was a bad trait of hers that she was never able to shake. Throughout the years, she had grown to hide it through false confidence. Press conferences were the worst. She would stand in front of dozens of reporters, all of them ready to pick apart everything she said.

It was impossible not to feel nervous in her line of work. Billions of dollars were on the line every day and one false step and she could lose it all. She had done good work so far, and she had made the people of Gotham believe that she wasn't some shy girl, she exuded confidence - even if it was fake.

However, walking into the the Wayne Gala with an expensive dress and heels that were far higher than she was used to, she wasn't able to keep up the façade. She wore a golden dress that was tight in the chest and loose around her legs. A dangerously high slit showed off her legs. Perfectly executed makeup was done that made her eyes gleam.

It wasn't her own eyes that she was worried about, it was the eyes of everyone in that room. Their gaze was glued to her, and it made her incredibly nervous. She wasn't sure if it was because of how she was dressed or because for the first time in four years she had attended Tim's event.

(Y/N) walked through the path being cleared for her and grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray a server held. Tim Wayne stood at the end of her walkway, though he was yet to notice her. He was talking with several other CEO's, laughing as if they were all good friends. She knew they weren't, she knew that he didn't care for them in the slightest.

Tim finally averted his gaze to the gold glimmer headed his way. He had to do a double take to realize that it was in fact (Y/N). Shock was evident in his eyes. To everyone, it would have been because of her arrival, in reality it was the fact that he couldn't believe how incredibly stunning she looked.

Never in his life has he laid eyes on someone so beautiful.

Tim excused himself from the men he was talking to and met you half way to your journey towards him. If there wasn't a room full of people watching, he would have kissed you right there. He wanted to, even if it meant breaking everything that you had hidden for so long.

"Mr. Wayne," she stuck her hand out for him to shake. Tim looked handsome himself. His hair was slicked back, just like Bruce used to wear. He wore a black suit with the exception of a red and golden tie. Someone not from Gotham easily could have mistaken the two of them as a matching couple.

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim shook her hand. He felt like he was stuttering over his words. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I was convinced," she answered. Tim wasn't sure if it was because of himself or someone else. Either way, he was glad that she came - and that he was able to see her in such a beautiful gown. "This is quite the event that you have. Beautiful."

"So are you," he blurted out. She glared at him, worried that someone had heard his comment. Tim felt his face flare up with embarrassment and anxiety. She looked beautiful, and he felt like a fool for not being able to pull himself together. "Uh, thank you. For coming, and for the donation. It means a lot to me for you to be here."

"I'm not here for long, Mr. Dr - Wayne," she took a sip of her champagne. In fact she didn't want to be there at all. As soon as she walked through the doors and all eyes were on her she wanted to leave immediately. If she was going to make it through that night at all, she was going to need more than one glass of the champagne.

"Well, while you are, may I have this dance?" Tim stuck his hand out for her to grabs so he could lead her to the ballroom floor. She hesitated. Pictures. News. Media. Gossip. She hated the thought of it all. This past week had been focused on getting her attention away from silly rumors like this. All that work was going to be washed away if she accepted his offer.

It felt like everyone was staring daggers at her. She could feel the eyes of everyone in that room. Tim never asked people to dance, and he was asking her the second that she walked through that door. It was going to make the headline, and she was sure that it wasn't going to be the one she wanted.

To her surprise, she accepted. Her hand rested in his palm and she set her half empty glass down on a nearby table. Just as she expected, everyone watched as he led you to the dance floor. Flash of cameras, murmurs of people talking to one another. After four years of not showing up - within the first ten minutes she was already dancing with her worst enemy.

Tim's hand was hot against her waist. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, remembering just how those hands touched her only a few nights ago. Now was not the time to be thinking about it, but she couldn't help the burning feeling of desire rake through her. Why did he have to affect her like this?

"Ignore them," Tim whispered. He assumed she was suddenly anxious of the others, not that she was suddenly wanting to rip his clothes off. She met his eyes, baby blues that always seemed to find some sort of hidden emotion that she tried to keep down. "Why'd you come?"

"Would you believe me if I said I came here to sabotage you?" She raised an eyebrow. Tim suddenly spun her around. Her back was against his chest and her arms crossed over her body. She would have been fine if it wasn't for his tight grip on her wrists. The same grip that held her in place as he fucked her.

"Not for a second," he smiled. Tim twirled her back around to their original pose. She wasn't sure if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. "I know you better than you'd like to admit."

It was true. She hated how well he knew her. When it came to what she was truly feeling, the way that she thought things through, he even knew more about her family than anyone else. He was in every theoretical way, her best friend. It didn't stop her from hating him just enough to keep it to themselves.

"Mr. William thought I should come," she told him truthfully. "I had no intentions of showing up." Tim twirled her again, this time resting his hand on the small of her back so she wouldn't fall. His touches were innocent, but she couldn't stop thinking about when they weren't.

"Can I give you a reason to stay?" Tim questioned. His eyes darted down her body. When looking back to you, his iris' darkened with lust. It seemed to be more than that. The hint of innocence that speckled his face led her to believe that this time, he wanted more than a hook up, he wanted a connection. It made her falter.

Before she could answer, Tim dipped her. The slit in her dress showed off her entire leg as it brushed against his. His grip on her was tight, not daring to let her fall in anyway. Tim was close, too close. She could feel the warmth of his breath fan against her cheek. She was frozen, too in awe of his beauty to move.

The flash of a camera snapped him out of it. Tim pulled her back up to his level and cleared his throat. That was far too intimate with that many people around. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. He pulled her close once more, continuing their dance.

"There's a couple ideas that come to mind, Mr. Wayne," she chided. In that moment, there was nothing more that (Y/N) wanted than to feel the heat of his hands over her naked body. Maybe it was her own thoughts that were making her uncomfortable in a crowded room rather than the people themselves.

"I hate being called Mr. Wayne," Tim muttered. She knew that - he expressed it to her quite often. Even Mr. Drake just filled him with dread. It only reminded him of his father. "I hate these gala's. They were never my thing, when I was a kid. Hosting them is even worse. I always hoped you'd come to make it more bearable."

"You know why I didn't," she sighed. Throughout their years, there were times that she didn't come simply because she wanted to keep the act up. Others, there were times that there was no need for an act. Tim genuinely infuriated her sometimes. He made choices that effected her company and sometimes herself personal.

As good friends as they were, there was always some hatred in her heart. These past few months seemed to have been different. Longer times spent together, untold secrets. They were closer than every, and yet it still felt like they were miles apart.

Tim suddenly pulled her completely flush against him. His hand rested dangerously close to the curve of her ass. A nearby couple had nearly bumped into them, and would have had he not pulled her in. Unfortunately, it just made her lust of him even more. A few strands of his gelled hair fell down, making him look like the young man that he truly was.

"People are staring," She whispered as he didn't let her leave his hold. The sexual tension between them had to have been evident to everyone in that room. (Y/N) wasn't nearly a good enough actor to make it seem like she wasn't trying to jump him - she just hoped that he was.

"Let them," Tim told her confidently.

"Tim," she sternly spoke. He heaved out a breath of air and let her make a space between them once more. Instantly, he missed her body against his. "Think you can steal a few of those champagne bottles and bring them home?"

"I don't think it'd qualify as stealing if I'm the one who bought them," Tim raised his eyebrows at her sudden request. He watched her eye up one of the trays full of glasses as a waiter walked by. "Why?"

"Grab us a bottle each and I'm all yours for the night. Completely yours, whatever you wish to do."

taglist: @unknowntoanyone @willieoo @kindashittywriter @subtleappreciation @yandereforyou @pricetagofficial @because-icanhide @magicisabluewish @hyp-oh-critical @littleredwing89 @boy-georgina @sparkleofpizza @craptainlou @timtimmersdrake @hauntingsonofrobin @anothertimdrakestan @idkmanicantenglish @vvipgot7be @psych0crybaby @theconfusedpansexualbitch @spiitfiires

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake smut #tim drake x fem!reader #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin smut #ceo tim #ceo!tim #ceo!tim imagine #ceo!tim smut #smut #dc #dc imagine #batfam #batfam imagine #after hours

166 notes · View notes

speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Delicate. (Henry Cavill x Reader)

Summary: Following a break up, the reader finds herself in a delicate position as she contemplates if moving on is the right thing to do.

Warnings: exboyfriend!Chris Evans (he’s barely in this lol), mention of cheating, very inaccurate Chris Evans, implied famous (actress)!reader, kinda fluffy, y’all know i love taylor swift and i’m not apologetic about it, very wordy (i haven’t written a fic in like 2 weeks give me a break). this is lowkey a dumpster fire but i’m trying

This was originally a Chris fic, but since Taylor’s man is a brit, I thought it was rather fitting.

Inspired by you guessed it Delicate – Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2.3k

AHH! My first Henry fic omg

Ko-fi - donations are appreciated but not necessary!

The night sky was a dark grey accompanied by an array of sporadic lightning followed by claps of deafening thunder. Your heels contrasted the roars of the city as they patted lightly against the concrete. Goosebumps painted your skin as the air suddenly chilled and the rain began its descent.

In a matter of minutes, you were drenched, but you paid it no mind. Despite the awful situation and the heavy storm, something told you it would be worth it.

Your phone buzzed just as you turned the corner. You fumbled with the device, not caring if the storm ruined your clothes or your makeup. A small smile found its way onto your face as you read through the water droplets that decorated your phone screen.

Come here, you can meet me in the back.

You hurriedly but carefully ran in the rain, shrugging off your trench coat to use as a makeshift cover – not that it made much of a difference. You were still soaked.

You began to regret the heels, cursing your friends for convincing you to go to a party where you coincidentally ran into your ex-boyfriend. However, you were convinced it was no happy accident but a horribly planned ambush.

He begged for a moment of your attention, and out of respect for your short history, you obliged. Regret was perfectly painted across his features as he pulled you aside. The lines of his face accentuated his remorse and emphasized his apologies, but they fell to deaf ears. You had pulled your arm from his grip and shook your head.

“It’s over, Chris,” you told him with a steady voice. It startled him. He had expected a stormy rage like the one now in the sky. “I forgive you for cheating, but it’s… it’s over.”

It had been weeks since his scandal – one that inexplicably tarnished your own reputation – but you were over it. It felt good to say it out loud – to say it to him.

The red neon sign illuminated the darkness. The bar’s name reflected in the puddles on the street. You took a deep breath as a fluttering feeling – butterflies – erupted throughout your whole body. This feeling – the nervous tingling that triggered a rush of serotonin – was reserved for one person.

And he was right through those doors.

-=+=-

The scent of various alcoholic drinks hung in the air. Unlike the cold and stormy city, the inside of the bar was warm – it felt as if it were like a home.

The bar wasn’t crowded though it wasn’t deserted either. People were huddled in their respective groups. Despite hobbling in drenched from the storm, no one paid you any attention – something you weren’t necessarily used to, but you could definitely grow accustomed to it – though some did shoot a curious glance your way because of the door suddenly opening and closing. But it stopped at that – just a glance before turning their attention back to their company.

You cracked a smile. You understood why he chose this place. A public place filled with people who were either too drunk to care or too busy to notice you. No cameras flashing, prying eyes, judgmental stares, and whispers. It was a nice change from the overly published relationship you walked away from.

You felt his eyes on you even before you even laid eyes on him. His stare was burning as if he ignited a fire beneath you.

You cringed, suddenly becoming insecure about the smudged makeup – you undoubtedly had mascara and eyeliner running down your cheeks due to the rain. But nevertheless, you made your way to the back of the bar, keeping your head low.

“(Y/N).” He stood, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You closed your eyes and returned the embrace, savoring the warmth. “Look at you, you’re drenched.”

Yeah and look at you, you thought. Though he wasn’t fancied up – he wore dark jeans and a pair of Nikes, inconspicuous at its finest. – he was easily one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen.

“Kinda happens when you stupidly think you can outwalk the rain,” you chided, and he chuckled in response. The rumbling of his chest vibrated through you. You were the first to pull away, but his grip around your body kept you anchored. Your body flush against his.

He frowned, tilting his head curiously. His hands moved from around you to cup your cheeks. His thumbs gently brushed away the clumped and smudged makeup that collected under your eyes. You stared up into his eyes – god, have they always been that blue?

“Henry,” you finally said, turning your head side to side to escape from his hands. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he nodded as if you two hadn’t seen each other in a long time (it had only been a few days). He took a step back and pulled out your seat for you just before situating himself in the stool next to yours. “So, how was that party?”

You shivered as the bar’s doors opened and closed as a group of friends wandered off into the storm. Just as the door shut, you heard a boom of thunder that rattled the building – glasses shook along with it. Henry immediately took notice and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and wrapped it around you.

You thanked him, relishing in his cologne. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when he adjusted his seat closer to yours so he could drape one arm over your shoulder, slightly pulling you into him but not so much that you were falling out of the stool.

Warmth immediately rushed through you. You felt it rise to your cheeks. It felt as if you were radiating – glowing.

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t have went.” You admitted before smiling at the bartender and reciting your order – to which Henry added to put it on his tab. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I dragged you out to the east side. It’s the least I could do.” He dismissed. His opposite hand absentmindedly reached over and pushed a wet strand of hair behind your ear. You raised an eyebrow questioningly at him as he unabashedly admired you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You gaped at the compliment. It was abrupt and sudden.

Although you and Henry had fluttered around each other like moths to flames for the past several weeks that followed your breakup, neither of you had been so … open. Sure, the secret meet ups were an indication that something else lied underneath, but the sudden “you’re so beautiful” was so forthright that it startled you.

“I look like a wet dog,” you deadpanned, thanking the bartender as he brought you your drink. You carefully took a sip of the bourbon. Your hands were shaking though at this point you weren’t sure if it was because of the rain-soaked clothes or that nervous feeling gnawing at your heart.

“Wet dog, or not. You’re still beautiful.”

“You’re drunk.” You dismissed with a laugh that quickly faded when your eyes wandered to his barely touched pint. “Or not?”

His brows were drawn up. His eyes left no indication that he was even slightly buzzed – and the look on his face told you he was serious. “Why are you so hell bent on pushing me away? Unless you’re leading me on though I don’t think that’s the case. But I think I’ve been very clear that I’m interested.”

Again, his sudden outburst stunned you, forcing you to break eye contact as an embarrassed expression glazed over your face.

You weren’t stupid though. You saw the signs – his very clear signals (ones that you reciprocated though never spoke out about). You both knew that the interest was mutual, but it was a matter of taking that step – having that conversation.

But you were afraid of the backlash. Your previous relationship with Chris Evans had left fans with such a sour impression of you. The relationship was sudden – no implications, nor hints. It was purely out of the blue – tabloids describing it as “a whirlwind romance” – and it truthfully was.

You threw yourself into a relationship with what was a stranger – an actor who was charming and kind but quite the flirt – and got your heartbroken in the process. And because of your blank slate of a dating history – and you, the new blank slate in general – it was easy to paint you as the villain.

You were afraid that jumping into something serious with Henry would fan the flames of your already burning reputation. You saw how the industry portrays women – move on too slow, you’re bitter; move on too fast, you’re an easy slut.

You couldn’t win.

“Because I like you.” It was your turn to be open, to be abrupt, and honest. You took another sip. You needed an extra push – that liquid courage – to look over at him. His raised brows had now scrunched together in confusion as he tried to decipher the deeper meaning to that. “No, Hen, like really like you…”

You felt like you were in primary school again. He was that crush – that best friend you told yourself you didn’t want though it was all just blind denial. You refrained from saying “I like like you” like a child would’ve feeling as if you’d never live down that embarrassment.

“I don’t see how that could be a reason why you’re holding back?” He asked, his voice low. His eyes finally broke away from yours as he nervously glanced around the room. Only to find reassurance that everyone still was off in their own worlds – no care for the intimate conversation that you were having.

“Because I’m afraid that when everything blows up like it did with …” you didn’t bother to say his name. You both knew it anyway. “Like it did with him that … you won’t want me – “

“How would we know if you won’t give it the chance?” It was a legitimate question. One you had no answer to. “From where I stand and from what I’ve seen, we can walk through their fires, we can dodge their pitchforks – they’re witch hunt be damned.” He said, blue eyes wide and staring into yours so intensely. The speck of brown in his iris was so noticeable in this light. “I just want you. I want to be with you.”

“You say that now – “

“I’ll say it now and I’ll say it tomorrow… Then the next day, then the next.” You laughed at his corniness as he reeled his arm from your shoulders to take your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll keep saying it until you don’t want me to say it.”

“You’re dramatic.”

He chuckled. “I’m truthful.”

“I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

“How about I raise you a deal, hm? We try this out, give it a run. If it works, then it works,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but return a toothy grin. “And in the off chance that it doesn’t, then we’ll still be friends.”

“Easier said than done. What if we have a bad break up?”

Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes at your pessimism. “It won’t happen.”

“Henry – “

“I don’t plan on letting you go. So, bad break up is really off the table. What do you say?”

“Anyone tell you you’d make a decent salesman?”

“(Y/N).” His tone became jokingly stern at your attempted deflection.

“Okay, okay!” You laughed.

“Think of all the fun we can have.” Henry continued.

“On the condition, that this is all private, but seeing as you’re you, I’ll take the closest to private as we can get.” You told him. “Last relationship, I was being watched like a hawk. I don’t want that to be us.”

“I can’t make that promise. But I can promise that we can try our best. It’s doable, I’m sure, but everyone has their ways of finding out.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “We’ll give this a spin.”

“In that case, let’s head back to my hotel.”

Your eyes bulged. “Henry, buddy, let’s take it slow.” You said, emphasizing the last word.

His shoulders bounced as he began to chuckle. “I didn’t mean it in that way…” A small blush crept onto his cheeks as the both of you continued to laugh. “I meant … let’s go somewhere private.”

“Doesn’t help your case.” You laughed harder.

“Maybe it’s just your mind that’s in the gutter.”

-=+=-

The night was spent like how all your secret meetings went – laughing at one another, sharing stories and secrets. You enjoyed Henry’s company and getting to know him outside of a screen.

You two stayed up all night relishing in each other’s presence. The laughter was addicting. The happy chemicals in your brain made your cheeks sore from the smiles.

You woke up before he did. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone dragging you out from your sleep. You sent the call from your friends – who were probably wondering where you ran off to after the party – to voicemail before silencing your phone. You wanted to savor this moment – this peace – for a little while longer.

You turned in the bed and smiled to yourself. His face was laxed as he slept. Soft snores escaped him. He was truly a work of art.

You wondered if he was dreaming of you like you were of him. You wondered if his words, his confessions, whatever this would evolve into held any weight. You were always so good at knowing when someone was lying to you, so when Henry looked you in the eyes and told you he wanted to be with you, something told you to believe him – something told you to make him yours.

He suddenly shuffled, startling you once again. He swung an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Yeah, I still want you,” he muttered.

You grinned. Maybe you won after all.

#henry cavil x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #im cheating on chris evans but again poly relationship #lowkey #chris evans x reader #delicate #the witcher imagine #superman imagine #clark kent imagine #fluff #august walker imagine

329 notes · View notes

carol-thirteen · 4 years

Text

soulmate ah week | day 7

neither age after 18 until they meet

++++

since your 18th birthday, you hadn’t changed at all aside from the length of your hair. it had been years since your aging stopped. for some, aging continued and never stopped for a moment and that made you very envious.

as a child you had a talent for building things, putting technology together as you grew older and wiser. once you began getting known in the industry, you were contacted by tony stark. he had invited you to a party.

you didn’t get out much but you accepted.

the dress you chose was one you had worn before. short with a slit at the thigh. black and not as tight as many would expect.

it was comfortable, which is what you wanted given that social situations weren’t necessarily your thing. though you would come to be thankful of this particular event in time.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you y/n,” tony shook your hand and you smiled.

“the pleasure is mine,” you returned.

“let me introduce you to the team, they were really impressed with your involvement with the jets!” tony lifted a hand and guided you to the infamous avengers.

you shook their hands as tony introduced them and exchanged pleasantries until tony left to greet more arriving guests.

“can i get you a drink?” thor asked.

“a white wine would be lovely, thank you.” you smiled taking a seat on the couch. soaking in the environment around you. the music was a nice distraction from the thoughts that began creeping into your head.

you had met so many people already what if one of them was-

“you’re y/n right?” her voice was smooth and you slowly brought your head up to face the woman who had spoken your name with such ease and gracefulness.

“i am,” you watched her move carefully around the coffee table to sit beside you.

“i’m natasha.”

you had a few drinks that night, enough to for tony to advise you stay over in the guest room. you accepted the offer and were shown to the room where you promptly fell asleep.

you hadn’t had the chance to leave for a few days, tony pulling you into his lab each day to get your help with a few projects. you would be up late so he just suggested you stay again.

you never ended up leaving, not truly. in fact, they recruited you. you helped developed new features for tony’s suits and as you had tested them, he got one made for you. you became a part of the team within a few months. getting to know everyone.

you had grown close to everyone, which was what made it difficult when you noticed.

you knew it had been that night of the party, you just didn’t know who you met that had caused you to start aging again. you wondered if the other person had noticed too.

you tried to figure it out.

“what are you looking at?” wanda frowned at you. you had been accidentally staring at her eyes, seeing if she was getting any lines, her hair if she was getting any grey hairs yet.

your years were catching up with you. you could practically hear the clock ticking, counting the minutes you were missing with your soulmate.

missions were a good distraction especially ones with natasha. but she could always tell something was up.

“when are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she frowned. “i hate seeing you like this.”

“i’m okay, really i just-“ you finally looked at her, for the first time during the flight home.

and you noticed a shimmering hair. your eyes focused on it. grey no- white. you tilted your head as you looked at her.

“it’s you, isn’t it?” you continued to stare at her hair, another coming into view by her ear.

“y/n, what are you-“ she followed your eyes, her hand going up to her hair. she brought the stray hair into view and let out a shaky breath. “y/n..”

“how could you not tell me?” your voice was quiet. your heart was aching. you had spent months analyzing every single feature. any interaction you had with someone. hand touches as things were handed to you. bonds that were forming. you tried for so long. “i had to sit around and figure it out?!”

“please, y/n. i was going to tell you. i was just waiting for-“

“for the right time.” you shook your head letting out a soft chuckle “there’s never a right time. there’s always something with this job. you said that yourself.”

natasha reached for your hand, and you pulled away. moving down on the bench. “you wasted so much time natasha. our time”

“i know,” she looked to her feet, ashamed. and for the first time you saw how guilty she was. everything started flashing in pieces in your head.

she would bring you lunches, put blankets over you when you were asleep. turn the light on when you were reading. she knew that whole time, she was giving you moments together before you even knew that you were meant to be together.

“then why did you do it?” you asked, wanting to look into her eyes now.

“i don’t know,” her voice was raspy but wet. like she was holding in something.

“don’t lie to me”

natasha continued to sit in silence, her hands tucked under her thighs and her eyes tightly shut. as if her eyelids were a barrier for the tears that would inevitably fall as soon as she opened them.

you wait. you think.

and it clicks.

“oh..” you breathed. your eyebrows furrow and you press your lips together. as you move closer to her, your hands reach for hers. your knees touch before your hands do and she looks up. “you really think i wouldn’t want to be with you?”

“well..” you sniffs, a tear escaping her eye. you bring your hand up quickly to catch it, wiping it off her cheek gently.

“come on natasha,” you softened.

“i didn’t know for sure that you would want me as your soulmate…” you squeezed her hands and your thumb began to circle on the top of her hand. “knowing what i’ve done.” she added.

“you knew that a week after we met.” you reminded her. “i told you the past is the past. the choices we make now, that’s what matters. did you not believe me?”

“i did.”

“what makes you think that’s changed then huh?” you move your head, searching her eyes further. she brings her hand up from your grasp and to your eyes. her fingers brushing against your cheekbone and almost into your hair as she touches the corner of your eye with her thumb.

“and you want to grow old with me?” her other hand was on your hip now, one leg in between another in an attempt to get closer as you tried to sit opposite each other. your hand lingered on her waist, feeling her tight muscles.

“we don’t have much of a choice,” you smiled. she returned the smile and leaned in. your lips almost touching before you added. “but if we did, i would choose you. every time.”

your lips fell perfectly into place as did everything that followed.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow fanfic #black widow imagine #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #soulmate au week #soulmate au

152 notes · View notes

finallyaniguana · 4 years

Text

Watch The Eyes: Honesty to an Extent [11]

[10] masterpost ao3 [12]

"I'm sorry I couldn't make yours too, Adrien," she looked over at him, still standing in the doorway.

He clicked the door shut.

"That's okay, Mari. You know how my père is. Can't have the face of his company repping another designer. Especially one no one knows the identity of yet," he winked.

Her face warmed with pride. She was making a name for MDC in the entertainment industry, mostly doing tour pieces here and there for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Those outfits were starting to get recognition by designers wanting to recruit the new up and coming talent.

After she was done showing off Marinette's hard work, Alya cleared her throat and looked at the designer meaningfully.

Marinette met her gaze, standing a little taller as if in challenge. Alya quirked an eyebrow, meaning the behavior did not go unnoticed. There was a solid ten seconds of staring before Nino cleared his throat too, trying to end the silent stand off.

Just as quiet as the stare down started, Marinette conceded, agreeing to share her news with the boys with a nod.

"I just recently found out I have a soulmate," she said matter of factly.

If Nino had been drinking something, he would have choked. Adrien was rather convincing pretending he didn't already know.

"What?! This is huge!" Nino exclaimed, excited for his childhood friend. "How did you find out?"

Alya glared down at her.

"On my birthday-"

Nino interrupted.

"But that was two weeks ago!"

Adrien shushed him, ignoring Alya's squint, imploring Marinette to go on.

"I switched bodies with him."

The boys thought for a second before Adrien spoke.

"I think I've heard of that... it's super rare," he said with the last of the awe summoned from the first time she told him.

"That would definitely explain why you don't have any marks or anything. Wow. I can't believe it, Mari. Congratulations," Nino said.

"So," Alya prompted. "What's the next step to finding him?"

Marinette scrunched up her nose at Alya's questioning. She sighed.

"Well, all the information I could find on this bond says I should meet them this year. I don't have to go find him or anything like that," she offered.

"Anything else?" she asked innocently.

"He does not have blue eyes." 'They're green.'

Alya looked confused before frowning at her and raising her eyebrows.

Marinette sighed again.

"He is from the United States. So, I will most likely meet him here. In Gotham. Since, you know, I don't have any other trips planned."

Nino stood stock still, his eyes blown wide.

"So soon?" he croaked out.

Alya nodded with a wicked smile.

"Which means Marinette has to leave the hotel everyday looking like the absolute goddess she is! We are watching out for our girl these next few weeks. He is going to love her!" the reporter said with conviction.

Marinette was grateful to have such... passionate friends. But there was the whole "secret identity" issue to work past. That was something she hadn't even told Adrien about. She didn't want to betray his trust before she ever had it. There was no telling whether or not 'Robin' would be accepting of her as an addition to his life. He wouldn't be the first to reject their soulmate and probably not the last. It was always sad when that happened. She didn't want that to be her, so she was going to do every she could to earn the vigilante's trust.

"He should recognize any of you. It happened right before "we" all walked to the park," Marinette informed them.

"Hold up, hold up. We were with you? How did we not notice something was up?" Nino looked shocked.

"He must be a good actor?" Adrien supplied.

Nino looked as though his mind had been blown. Alya jumped up and down and started animatedly explaining her plan for success to the two boys. Marinette just sat shaking her head.

"There is a boy out there who knows all of our lovely faces except Marinette's! Do not let him go unnoticed!"

Their little group eventually parted ways after listening to nearly a half an hour of Alya instructing the two boys on how to watch out for her best friend to make sure her meeting with her soulmate was perfect. Unfortunately, neither Alya or Marinette could answer any of Nino's questions; Alya, because she didn't have the answers and Marinette because she was pretending to not have answers. Adrien elected to keep his mouth shut, lest Alya become suspicious of his extensive knowledge of this bond.

Back in the hallway, the taller of the two let out one last warning.

"If you don't walk out of that room tomorrow in your absolute best. I am turning you around and picking for you."

Marinette rolled her eyes.

"Please, Alya, I doubt I'm going to be meeting my soulmate on a tour of Wayne Enterprises," she laughed.

"Better safe than sorry, babe. Goodnight!" Alya shut her door with a click.

MDC stared at the door her friend disappeared through, suddenly apprehensive knowing Lila was on the other side. She was probably going to ask about the dress. Alya shouldn't say anything. She knew what secrets she was supposed to keep. But it still worried her. She unlocked her own door and disappeared through it, the hallway now quiet.

"I'm glad Alya wasn't too mad at me, huh, Tikki," she said at last.

"Of course she wouldn't be too mad, Marinette! She's your best friend!" Tikki said back encouragingly.

As she got ready for bed, she finished unpacking the rest of her things, including the unfinished skirt and bodice of her gala dress, which she carefully hung in the closet.

"Tikki... have you seen my phone charger?" Marinette asked.

The little goddess blinked at her before shaking her head. The teen then proceeded to drop her face into her hands.

"Of course," she groaned around her fingers. "It's already almost 11 o'clock, so I don't think I'll be able to borrow from Alya."

Tikki flew over, patting her holder on the cheek.

"It's official, Tikki," she abandoned her face's perch in her hands in favor of staring deadpan at the ceiling. "I'm the disaster."

It was unclear to Tikki whether she should laugh or continue to comfort the girl. She she did both.

"It's not a big deal Marinette. We'll just get one tomorrow. I over heard Mlle. Bustier and Richard saying there is room on the schedule to look around Gotham for a bit. The safer parts of Gotham of course!" she giggled.

Marinette smiled gratefully at the little fairy before finishing up her routine, save plugging in her phone. She did set an alarm though, in hopes that what little battery she had left would last through the night.

Marinette laid out an outfit she was sure Alya wouldn't turn away. While packing, she had to resist the urge to pack much darker colors instead of her trademark pinks. She was going to tour Wayne Enterprises in a floral print grey skirt that ended a little above the knee paired with a soft pink sweater to match the flowers. She also set aside black tights and a pair of boot socks to complete it. Her comfortable black boots would be good for the amount of walking her class was sure to be going the next day. Nodding her head, satisfied, she turned her head to Tikki.

"What do you think? Good?"

Tikki smiled and nodded.

She laid it all out over the armchair in the corner. Stretching, she climbed under the covers of the full size bed. It was not near as comfortable as sleeping in her room, but it certainly exceeded expectations. She clicked off the bedside lamp she had been using.

Tikki settled down on the pillow next to the girl's head.

"Goodnight, Marinette."

"Goodnight, Tikki."

That night, Marinette had difficulty sleeping. All she could do was stare at the ceiling, straight as a board, thinking. She was suddenly uncomfortable in her usual sprawled out position that she usually slept in. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, running through every possibility for error and coming up with a contingency plan for every one. At three am, frustrated and tired, Marinette got up, leaving Tikki sleeping soundly on her pillow. She slipped on her flats, grabbing her room key and sketchbook on the way to the door. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well do something productive. Tiptoeing out into the hall, Marinette glanced around the dim passage.

The building was an eerie quiet. It reminded Marinette of the silence when an akuma is nowhere to be seen, but certainly nearby.

Perhaps it was because she was already tense about her soulmate, or maybe it was because she knew what lurked in Gotham's dark.

'You may not rest now, there are monsters nearby.'

She snorted and rolled her eyes at the bad joke she made to herself.

She wasn't dumb. In addition to her research on Bruce Wayne, the scholarship provider, she also tried to learn as much as she could about his city. Dangerous even during the daytime. Even more dangerous at night. Villains attacking every other day.

It used to be like that in Paris before Hawkmoth started taking fairly long breathers in between each attack.

The main difference was Gotham's heroes didn't have superpowers to protect them. No miraculous cure to bring back those caught up in the attack. If one of them lost their life out there... there was no coming back from it (presumably). That only increased her apprehension about meeting her elusive soulmate. Every day he put on a mask and jumped off a building. Being a vigilante is by no means safe. What if one day he goes out and never comes back and Marinette never gets the chance to meet him? She wasn't sure she could handle that.

She was sure footed down the hall way, evenly stepping where she was sure she wouldn't make any noise. The stealth was unexpected but involuntary, something in her encouraging her to blend into the shadows and not be seen. Her feet were moving of their own volition away from her room, no set course in mind. Marinette supposed she would wander the hotel until she found something of worth to bring out her creativity.

She found herself standing at a set of sliding glass doors leading to a balcony. Looking out, the city lights twinkling in the hazy blackness before her. No matter how creepy she thought Gotham looked in the day time, it was much worse at night. Beautiful in its own way but still creepy. But it was somehow refreshing to the unrelenting cheer and positivity The City of Lights instilled. Gotham had no such luxury and accepted as a whole its role in the world. It was a hub for crime.

Eyes unblinking, Marinette stared out over the city her soulmate lived in. Batman's city. She opened her sketch book to a new page and began to put down her ideas. A charcoal grey suit sewn with metallic silver accents. Sharp lines made way into a flowing dress beside it, halter with a low cut v neckline. The skirt of the dress carefully stitched with gold and silver beads for stars in a wide scatter at the bottom, following a line up to one side of the halter strap growing closer and closer together the higher you went.

An unexpected light flashed ahead of her in the night. The sky was lit up with a powerful spot that could only mean one thing. Batman was needed. Marinette waited, completely still.

Far in the distance, she saw them. Bounding over rooftops as if someone would catch them if they fell. Of course it was too dark and much too far away to see who was out there. He could be out there. A less observant person would have missed them all together, but after years of fighting akumas, she was adept at noticing the small things.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Marinette shut her sketchbook with a satisfying smack before turning on her heel and heading back down the hall the way she came. It was a wonder she hadn’t gotten herself lost. The hallways were even quieter than before, as though the walls themselves could witness her inner turmoil. She was hiding it well. All her emotions were carefully tucked away behind a neutral mask. Can't show weakness.

Back in her own hallway, she was startled out of her stupor by a figure standing there. Lila.

Marinette had no idea how Lila knew she would be awake or walking around. She was just standing there, hands behind her back, lifting herself up on her toes then back down again. She had her hair tied up in a neat sock bun.

'Ha. You look weird without your sausages.'

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lila snarled.

"Oh, did I say that out loud? Terribly rude of me," she gave the taller girl a tired smirk before attempting to walk on past her.

Lila put out her arms to prevent Mari from moving any further forward.

'End this.'

Marinette blinked that unexpected thought away. Aggression wasn't the answer.

"Where were you, Mari, sweetie? I was worried you'd gotten kidnapped by a villain or something!"

"Ugh. You wish. Excuse me, I'd like to return to my room."

Everything about this girl brought out the worst in the usually sweet designer.

"It really would be a shame if Mlle. Bustier found out her class president was wandering the halls at night. Come now, Marinette, you know that's against the rules."

She rolled her eyes at the weak threat. There wasn't much Lila could do to her, but if she thought this would make her trip even a degree worse, she would do it.

"How would you know I was wandering the halls unless you were too?" she asked lightly.

The liar's expression soured.

"You aren’t going to ruin this trip for me, so I’m going to give you one last chance. It wouldn't hurt to just play along, would it? It's not like you have any proof. It's your word against mine and who would believe a nobody like you?" Lila taunted.

"Move."

"How do you want to go down? As the worst class president in history? Worst friend in history? I can make that happen. Just keep up your little charade and it won't be a problem."

Marinette's frown deepened.

"I'm not the one playing charades. You are. And you look ridiculous."

Lila scoffed with disdain at the insult.

"I wouldn't even bother getting up tomorrow. You and your little trashy designs aren't going to impress anyone. That's probably why you don't have a soulmate. Nobody would be able to put up with your self righteous crap," Lila sniffed.

Marinette stood straight, staring past the Italian and down the hallway. Her eyes narrowed the more she spoke.

"How much do you think it will take to make Alya hate you? Would you like to find out? I can start on that tomo-"

"Stop speaking."

She looked into the girl's contempt filled olive green eyes.

"I'm not some little girl who you can intimidate, Rossi. I would suggest backing off before you end up regretting your actions."

She brushed past the girl, leaving her struck frozen in the hallway. She had no idea where that burst of angry confidence came from. She only hoped it would help and not hurt whatever came next.

@vixen-uchiha @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @violatiger8 @mochinek0 @constancetruggle @yamadochie @seraphichana @captainmac6 @nataladriana9 @iggy-of-fans @riarkle-felinettelove @luciferge @mystery-5-5 @mellownieice @northernbluetongue @imanerddealwith @ayuchan07 @poshplumcot @annabellabrookes @legendaryneckjudgestudent @chez-pezeater @friedchickening @da-tasuky @crazylittlemunchkin @g-arya @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @witchbitch1998 @theatreandcomicfreak @lysslovsanime @zalladane @tbehartoo @goggles-mcgee @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @melicmusicmagic @reichi-vogart @ladybug-182 @chaosace @mariae2900 @vivilakitty @xxmadamjinxx @akbtch @7701deathlyhalfbloodprincess @elspethshadow @danielslilangel @tinyterror333 @maynora @anjuschiffer @creator-josie @thecatnipmademedoit @jessigurl-design @allolale @caffeine-theory @zerotosiki @draco-kasai @schrodingers25 @cassiejaydee @synnesstra @oscarwilde-hellyeah @valeks-princess @winter-gardenflower @novicevoice @cadencehood @sassy-spocko @rogueptoridactyl @dast218 @kae690 @thequestionablyhuman @18-fandoms-unite-08 @beaversuenightly @graduatedmelon @dur55 @gaylord1027 @fertileleaf @bamagirl513 @kurogaya913 @littleblue5mcdork @completelypeccable @sassydepression @resignedcatservant @batmans-attic @linnyalou @shreky-boi @actual-disaster-human @kandi-pie @gingersnapnoir @disneyfoxuniverse @souleateralicestein @kand-roo

so I figured out the reason my tag list was getting capped is because I was using mobile. so I decided not to be a dumb dumb anymore and will do my best to update from my computer instead. im working on a masterlist so stay tuned for that. I hope you enjoyed!

#maribat #daminette

647 notes · View notes

fics-by-maria · 5 years

Text

A Trip to Remember (Part 4)

Previous Masterpost Next

I'm having far too much fun writing this, next update either this evening or tomorrow morning.

Damian was more like his father than he was willing to admit. He blamed genetics for his decision to ignore all the warnings in his head and go on a date with Marinette. He sat at their table, trying to drink his tea instead of staring at her and attempted to calm his racing heart.

Racing heart. Because of the adrenaline still rushing through him. Obviously. Not because Marinette was beautiful and dangerous. It didn't matter that she was strong and that the whole family would adore her. Or that he wouldn’t have to worry about his mother coming after her.. He wasn’t thinking about that, he was drinking his tea.

“So Earl grey? I've always preferred chamomile or mint teas.” Marinette's voice yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah well our butler is british and has slowly infected me with a fondness for tea.”

She raised an eyebrow at this, “Butler?”

“Yeah, Alfred is family but technically he’s our family butler”

“So the Drake family is rich then huh?”

“I’m a Wayne actually, all my brothers are adopted.” He watched her for a reaction, puzzled when she tilted her head. “Oh like Wayne Industries? Cool.”

A lot about this girl was just baffling. She was just told she was sitting at a table with the son of the most influential man in the city and just continued to drink her latte. “Look, I grew up surrounded by famous people. I, technically, am three different famous people. You’re not special.” She said this without looking up from the sketch she had started a few minutes ago.

Glancing up, she said, “So aside from having the weight of the world on your shoulders, what do you do?”

“Uh.. I paint sometimes, but mostly I take care of my pets.”

“Oh? What kind of pets do you have? I have a hamster, which is technically Adrien's, but he's my rat son and I love him.”

“I have a cow, a Great Dane named Titus, and a cat named Alfred.”

“Like your butler?”

“You have no idea how annoying it can get, my brothers are awful.”

“Oh I don't know, must be nice having siblings.”

“You can have them if you want, they won’t be missed.”

Marinette laughed at this and then slid her sketch across the table so he could look at it. She had drawn a bomber jacket with a pattern of insect wings on it that would make it shift colors in the light. He recognized it as something Tim referred to as a ‘MDC Original Technique’.

“It's beautiful. What's it for?”

“I like to design things for people I know and I think it'd look good on you.” she shrugged and pulled the sketch back, continuing to sketch.

“So I want to know what kind of Aunt sent you a sword, I heard you and Adrien arguing about it.”

“Oh she's not my actual Aunt, she's my mom's friend from boarding school. My mom decided I needed self defense training during the Siege so I got some training from her. She’s a martial arts trainer, but she decided a good gift for my 18th birthday was a sword.”

“Ah a coming of age gift.”

“Yeah okay it’s the thought that counts, but like why would I need a sword, I don't even know how to use one.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“Careful pretty boy, I just might take you up on that offer.”

Bruce had been expecting an explanation. He hadn't been expecting his youngest to return to the manor, declare that he was going to teach a girl how to wield a sword, and then disappear to take care of his pets.

Tim and Jason were both bracing for the end of the world. Never had Demon Spawn taught anyone willingly, something was horribly wrong.

Finally Jason leapt up from the couch and started shouting, “HOLY SHIT! HE'S IN LOVE, BRUCE YOUR GOD AWFUL TASTE IN DANGEROUS WOMEN IS GENETIC!"

-TAG LIST-

@spicybelladonna @ascending-donotdisturb @spider-person95 @maude-zarella @sassy-spocko @segajr @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thepeacetea @captainmac6 @violatiger8 @northernbluetongue @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @vixen-uchiha @mochinek0 @urbanpineapplefarmer @origamieater @noirdots @i-have-no-cool-username-to-use @mystery-5-5 @crazylittlemunchkin @theatreandcomicfreak @danielslilangel @goggles-mcgee @redscarlet95 @huntressofthenight0516 @lunar-wolf-warrior @kurogaya913 (Sorry if you weren't tagged, Tumblr doesn't believe some of you exist)

#daminette #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #a trip to remember

410 notes · View notes

cosplayinamerica · 4 years

Photo

Tony from Die Hard : rdmncosplay / photo : scifideity

Tony, by himself, without the sweater and blood, is just a grey sweat-panted weirdo. Doesn’t get a second glance. Or a lot of “wait, I know this, you are.........(and lots of memory recall)” lol! In the context of the group, however, I think it would blow people’s minds, to have the WHOLE Nakatomi crew.

Dead Tony gets some cool acknowledgement, especially when I’m seated, lol! Now that they are selling an Ugly Christmas sweater with the Ho-Ho-Ho, people might not know how much work went into both versions of Tony, LoL! But I really can’t wait to get the group together, I think that would go over really well!

This was originally supposed to be a group effort. I’m part of the Finest, the G.I. Joe costume club, and one of our members, mentioned that in a suit, he looks a bit like Alan Rickman, as Hans Gruber. So the wheels started turning, and Die Hard’s 30th Anniversary was coming up (at the time) so we thought, “Wait, what if we do the entire Nakatomi Terrorist crew!!!” So we all started assembling our respective kits, but interest kinda fizzled, (because, hey, LIFE!) but I thought if I finish mine, maybe that will jump start everyone to jump in again 👍🏼

Well, I’m naturally a redhead (greying now🙀) so Tony’s blonde hair immediately screamed WIG! I grabbed from Arda Wigs, and then it was styled by my Barber’s daughter Teresa. If I upgrade the wig, it’s a smidge too short in the bangs, but everything else is perfect.

It’s not a simple sweat suit, it’s sweat pants and a knitted sweater. Once I found the right color and knit pattern sweater (I went through ordering five!) then it was modding it to be a mock-turtle kneck. (It’s not a crew neck nor a turtle neck) I sewed it to lay exactly as it does on him.

The lettering on the sweater is just red sharpie, and I tried to match the spacing so it would land the same height And width on me as it does on him. (Not end up under an arm or something).

For a test fit, I ordered two, and the larger size, I used for the Ho-Ho-Ho, sweater. The fitted sized I use for the pre-death Tony. I also made sure to get the correct military style watch. I have a black Dickies shoulder bag with the label cut off, that is his bag with the detonators. I actually asked a friend of mine who is a professional Santa, about good Santa Hats, (the internet offerings are super cheap or not the right style.) mine came with the puffball/snow ball at the cap end, on a string, so I cut off the string and sewed the ball directly to the cap.

In the scenes where you see his feet,Tony is wearing black ankle height sneakers, NOT boots (when McClane kicks his ill-fitting footwear aside, it’s a boot, but all other scenes show a sneaker, so I went with a black Dickies industrial sneaker, that’s a pretty close approximate style to those shown. Black socks. Grey champion sweatpants. (making sure they are a shade or two lighter then sweater. Black Wire-frame glasses. (Etsy) I usually wear glasses but as my costuming went deeper I use contacts a lot more now.

The MP5A3/HK95 was actually really difficult to come by. Airsoft companies made MP5’s all the time, but since that are not as popular anymore, finding a cheap used model, or a cheap spring operated version was proving to be problematic. I found a non-functional, super-cheap Airsoft model on e-bay, sans magazine. How hard could grabbing a magazine be, right? Well...the particular Airsoft model I bought, it’s magazine had a particular depth and mechanical function. I bought every MP5 mag I could find, but none fit.

Finally I found the correct mag, in Airsoft stores in Europe, but they wouldn’t ship to the US. So I paid a Finest Member to order them for me, have them shipped to England to the member, then from England to here. Goes to show you, sometimes you thing what should be an easy challenge, is just the opposite! I have a background as a body-painter, so then it’s a matter of matching the screen shots of Tony’s face wounds, on myself. Being careful to remember I’m copying a non-mirrored image!

I love researching. I’ll spend hours to find the exact perfect, facsimile of an item to get it to look awesome and accurate. Now that’s where I differ from a lot of prop buffs. I have no desire to have a collection or screen worn item, and some props, screen accurate but not used, can be too cost prohibitive, for me. So I love getting an item close, but then detailing it out to be exact, or building it myself.

I have a background in illustration, and I love putting things together, so it all fits. I love just making things, and I love the details. For instance when McClane takes Tony’s ID, Tony has a royal blue shirt on under the sweater, so, I wear a royal blue tank top (because, hey, SWEATER it’s hot!) under the sweater as Tony! Things don’t have to “work” per-say, but if that prop has 3 knobs and two buttons, I’m making sure mine also has 3 knobs, and two buttons! You will NEVER have enough time.

Deadlines are FANTASTIC motivators 😳😝, but you really need to give yourself time to prototype, refine, and finish. Also be forgiving of yourself to debut a version that can be subsequently upgraded, if it’s not “exactly” where you want it, first time out.

I love making people happy or geek out. Sure it’s awesome when someone nails something, but when you see something that is simple but effective or crazy complicated down to the last rivet, I I appreciate both.

Both sides of my brain appreciate the blood sweat and tears of pouring your soul into something, as well as the simplest creative work-around that achieves the same end result, a smile, a laugh, an ohhhh!, or an awesome for either the work put in, the simplicity of the solution, or the creativity of the idea, or solution to a design problem, and of course, the overall final look. I just love and support it all : ). I especially love that since we are not being followed by a green screen, or ILM, EVERYTHING costumers do is a “practical effect”. It works, right there, in front of you. Even if you are using some sort of tech (like an iPad) having it work in front of me, here and now, and not “fixing it in post” is what always amazes me.

Sure, photoshopped images with added effects and atmosphere are great and some talented people really make them outstanding, don’t get me wrong, but the visceral effect, right in front of me, and the reactions to in (costumer, and fab and vice versa) is what I really love.

#Die hard #die hard cosplay #dragoncon #cosplay #cosplay interview

16 notes · View notes

nerdie-faerie · 4 years

Text

After seeing that post about untaught racism in british history and talking to Ana about world history I have come to the realisation of just how shit and lacking our lessons were so here is a rough guide of what everyone I know was taught in history pre-GCSEs in vaguely chronological order cus my memories not that good

ANCIENT EGYPTIANS, then ANCIENT GREEKS and then ANCIENT ROMANS who invaded england to expand the roman empire

the original settlers were the CELTS who were pushed out by the ROMANS who were pushed out by the VIKINGS who were pushed out by the SAXONS leading to the ANGLO SAXONS and the name angloland who were then pushed out by the NORMANS whooo

Brought WILLIAM THE CONQUEOR englands first king after winning the BATTLE OF HASTINGS (we all have the date 1066 imprinted in our heads everything else is irrelevant) and started the DOOMSDAY BOOK

Then everythings kinda irrelevant for a while theres the DARK AGES and the first bought of bubonic plague called BLACK DEATH

Then nothing again until the WAR OF THE ROSES which was won by HENRY 7TH whom we nothing else about except that he was HENRY 8TH’s dad whos claim to fame is having six wives and introducing divorce after changing the religion of england the point in the six wives being that he wanted a son who ended up being super sickly was on the throne young and died young I couldnt tell you which of the KING EDWARD’s he was. then was the nine day queen LADY JANE GREY who was eds cousin chosen because she shared the same religious views as henry rather than mary. BLOODY MARY then had jane killed changed the countrys religion back and thats the extent of what I know. Next was ELIZABETH 1ST who changed the religion back again (no i dont know which is which one of the christianity branches) and is generally remarked upon for never marrying.

All that happened during the RENAISSANCE you know that period of ENLIGHTENMENT and the FRENCH REVOLUTION? Yeah none of that gets mentioned because england

Then another bought of bubonic plague this time referred to as the GREAT PLAGUE this is the one where they BANNED CATS AND DOGS thus increasing rat populations, BURNED TAR in the streets and PLAGUE DOCTORS which didnt end until the GREAT FIRE OF LONDON

Of course at some point there was the spanish inquisition and Napoleon but thats not england so it doesnt get taught I mean we dont even get taught about wales or ireland and the only mention of scotland is that there were a lot of battles so you can understand why world history gets ignored.

Then everything becomes irrelevant again until the VICTORIAN ERA in which you learn that QUEEN VIC was the longest reigning monarchy and about the INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION a brief nod to SLAVERY but mainly focusing on the few figures who attempted to abolish it and of course the BRITISH EMPIRE but we dont discus of course how exactly one comes about owning the majoprity of countries did they lose their rights in a bet? doesn’t matter because information would surely demonise england so we dont talk about it. and hey WORK HOUSES were also a thing

And of course FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE was around and doing stuff. And there was that all thing with the ROUNDHEADS and CAVALIERS that happened at some point again hella vague

Then nothing matters until WORLD WAR 1 skipping over the fact that really britain had no need to get involved the whole thing was super convoluted. Then we ignore the ROARING TWENTIES and oh look WORLD WAR 2 lets ignore the fact that germany got the idea of concentration camps from britain and instead talk about how horrific the NAZIS were and how shocking it was that anyone could treat a fellow human being like that *cough cough*

Then a brief brush over the following decades the FIFTIES in which the focus of SEGREGATION is all on america completely ignoring any and all racial issues in the uk. then onto the SIXTIES moon landing then SEVENTIES. But what about the cold war with america and russia? Who cares wasn’t england. And the international tensions over nuclear war? Not england. What about the assassination of president kennedy? We don’t learn about our own political leader aside from a brief nod to churchil and thatcher so nope.

And then its present day minus a decade or four but whos counting

So that completes our very shitty guide to English history lessons through the years

#Not rp #OOC #history nerd #British history #Education system #British education system #English history lessons #Tw; swearing #just to clarify i love history and did really well in it but our lessons were WOEFULLY lacking some of the finer details up there (not that #theres many) are actually from horrible histories rather than lessons which were also incredibly england centric but what we were taught was #pitiful we didnt have art lessons at all at my school but history science and geography was like done in a week once a month #we didnt get taught shit most of what i know about history i learnt in my own time when i was a kid with time and enthusiam

5 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

Agent of Hope - 12

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: ALL THE WARNINGS INCLUDING TRIGGER WARNINGS. A tiny bit of good in the end? A/N: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

12 - Broken people

… Romanoff’s PoV …

“This is more like it!” Stark sounds cheerful over the coms.

He’s flown ahead to scout together with Sam, eager to make sure no one escapes him and the rest of the team of Avengers as they head through the vacated part of town.

Peering down a side road, Natasha has to admit that it’s more than just a single neighbourhood that’s been abandoned long ago. The town was dependant on one industry only, not atypical for a lot of the rural mid-states, and when that went belly-up the entire town was vacated out of a need for jobs. Splintered windows beneath sheets of plywood, boarded up doors, and overgrown patios and curbs. Ghost town. But the place isn’t completely empty. A bit of hacking through Stark’s suit has proved that someone’s accessing the electrical grid and the water at one location only: a school. Perfect place for a large group of people take hunker down for a while.

“What’s the play, Nat?” Steve’s voice calls the former Russian back to the situation.

Go in, kill what moves, save [Y/N]. But it has to be more detailed than that. “Sam ‘nd Steve take the south entrance, Tony find a way in from west or make one…we take the north side.”

The man in a can is hovering far above the building sprawled out between wild grasses and shrubberies, allowing Jarvis to do its work while everyone else moves to the desired positions.

It’s a good thing. Thanks to Jarvis, they know how many Hydra-goons are waiting as the wannabe rescuers storm the place, moving methodically along the main hallways without forgetting to check each room…just in case. It’s silent work with very few surprises until they inevitably encounter the first opposition, five for each pair (counting Stark and Jarvis together, of course).

Hydra trains their people very well, forming teams with strong bonds and a capability for adapting rapidly under pressure. It’s hard to tell from the grunts or weapon-noise through the coms how the others are fairing against the enemy, but at least Natasha is a force that not even Hydra can withstand at the moment. She bears down on them like a hurricane and without any regards for her own safety except what is needed to reach the next target and the one after that.

… Rumlow’s PoV …

Grabbing the few things he needs, Brock’s mentally racing through the plan for getting the hell our of dodge. The second in command knows. Each and every Hydra member has to be ready to lay down there lives to ensure the goal is achieved, but sometimes the higher-ranking officers are part of a bigger puzzle that requires them (in this case Rumlow) to leave before it’s too late so they/he can fight another day.

“And the girl?” Crouched behind a corner at a T-intersection in the hallway to avoid the shrapnel and bullets, the man glances over at Rumlow on the other side of the hall.

“Not a priority.”

That’s it. A death-sentence in three words. The second knows what it means and there are no need to say anything else even as the two men meet each other’s gaze for a second before Rumlow twists to look around his own corner. An arrow whistles by with only an inch to spare and lodges itself in the wall behind him.

“COVER!” The last of his shout is drowned in the small explosion which makes a whole in the wall. Bloody Robin Hood.

Debris and smoke is raining down as Rumlow unfolds himself from where he’d landed on the floor. His ears are ringing and there’s probably a part of the less healed wounds that have re-opened on his shoulder, but it doesn’t matter right this second.

So she cares! The fiery hair is partially breaking free from the ponytail, floating in thin wisps around Romanoff’s face as she engages two Hydra agents simultaneously. The grey-green eyes are normally calculative, showing the same detachment that he himself has been trained to utilize during any mission. Not this time.

A second expands and stretches, slowing the embers to the point where they look like fireflies hovering in the air and the sound of fighting is a distant rumbling. There’s more than enough time for Brock to notice the snarl curling the pretty lips to show a flash of white teeth. It’s the eyes that does it, though. It’s almost funny. All this time he thought having [Y/N] would be a matter of principles and strategy for Captain bloody Rogers, that that’s the reason the Avengers are coming for the freak of an ex…but it’s the emotionless less bitch who’s invested. It’s so obvious it’s tempting to stay and watch, to be there when Romanoff finds the limb body.

Time snaps back like a rubber band, flinging Brock and the world into action once more. As he run down the hallway and away from the noise, it’s the fear – the desperation – in the Black Widow’s eyes that gives him wings.

… Reader’s PoV …

The sound of an explosion reaches you from far away, stubbornly pushing through the fluffy nothingness that surrounds and cools you. Smaller sounds can be heard too, but you just…just can’t be bothered with it all. What does it all matter anyways? Wanting to go back to the calm fluff, you refuse to open your eyes to find out what’s happening…it will only bring you pain anyways, and you’re so fed up of the constant aching from within and outside. When was the last time you weren’t hurting while awake? It’s impossible to tell. Maybe you’ve always been in pain, head electrocuting you and body ripped apart bit by bit. Or is that your soul? The dark silence comes to your rescue, quieting your brain and the world again.

…

Darkness moves in your mind, tearing your thought to pieces with pure agony. Tunnel. Running. It’s not you fleeing in the dark, but someone else. Images of landscapes and helicopters come and go together with random faces you’ve never seen together with the hot sunlight over a city you’ve never seen although you recognize the green shape tearing through the street. There’s a scream above it all, much closer and with a different quality to it. Me? Your throat is raw as the dirty tiles between leather of the real world breaks through your vision, the faded turquoise pulsing with your heartbeat in your head. The sound of yourself nestles itself over everything else, lulling you into a pained rest of brightest white before the darkness rebuilds a cocoon around you.

…

You see the slender legs (black pants covered in dust) wrapping around the neck of a man. You see the tendrils of red whip into the field of vision as the male and the entire hallway spins. The sounds you hear don’t fit that image, though. Instead there’s a metalling sound followed by a sort of oingoingoingoing and heavy boots.

“Shit!” The deep voice makes you wince, it’s much too loud this close to you. “I don’t know, hold on…”

Big hands touch your face, then neck, feeling around for something. Stop! You have to get away from the groping hands. They’ll wrap around your throat, pull your clothes aside to squeeze your breasts painfully, and tear your pants off before they pin you to whatever surface is available. Then the real pain will begin. Deep and unrelenting.

“Hey! [Y/N], it’s okay, it’s me!”

But the man’s words don’t matter. “It’s me…don’t you remember? We were good together…loved each other…look at me, baby…” Soft words whispered into your ear so many times in an attempt to stop you from struggling, promising you that the pain will go away. But it never did. He always hurt you. Or let the others send lightning through your brain until the skull would nearly split. Not again! You won’t let any of them hurt you again. Get away! And there comes the dark fuzz from the corners to save you, bring the peace and nothingness with it.

…

“Don’t let her fall.”

You spill out of the monstrosity of a chair, nearly spilling the non-existent contents of your stomach as the movement is halted by something. Someone. The broad figure has a strong grip on you, holding on so you can’t get away no matter how much you begin to struggle. Every shift in the limbs sends pain screaming through the muscles even as the shoves and pushes become weaker. No! You barely have any energy left, but this is your chance to get away. Away from Brock. Home. You know there’s no such place, the apartment you had was shared with the last man you ever want to see again. That’s not a home anymore. Tasha. Please, find me. That’s where you have to go, where you’ll be safe. Tasha. Nat!

“Easy, she’s … -er wa-” the voice fades in and out as darkness returns.

… Romanoff’s PoV …

At least she’s alive. The words running on repeat in Natasha’s head are meant to be a way to calm herself. A soothing mantra. However, as she runs down the halls of the derelict school, it’s not enough to keep the worry tugged away because this is about [Y/N], and everything she can hear the guys say on the coms is verifying the horrible fears supressed lately.

“Talk to me,” she pleads, ignoring that her body would prefer the air for itself rather than talking.

The second of hesitation is oppressing through the little earpiece, speaking volumes more than any words could.

“She’s in and out of consciousness,” Steve finally explains, “alive, but far from healthy.” Natasha can imagine the way the Captain’s jaw must be set right now. “Nat…she freaks out if we’re too close if she’s awa–“

As if on cue, there’s a strangled wail from Steve’s end and something that sounds a lot like a man in sudden pain. “Fuuuuu…she…my balls…” Sam whimpers broken.

“Almost there.”

…

The sight of [Y/N] shivering figure is like a punch to the guts. It’s not the dirt, torn clothes, or even the bruises and blood. It’s the way the woman is huddled into a corner of the deep end of the pool as far from Sam and Steve as she can possibly get and the haunted look as she tries to hold her head up in an attempt to keep track of the men while battling fatigue. But worst of all? [Y/N] is trying to hold the tattered trousers tightly closed with one hand behind a shield of knobbly knees and broken fingernails that sometimes stray to her scalp where hair has been sheared off in patches where bluish gel still sticks.

“[Y/N]…” I have to be slow, have to be calm. “It’s me…Natasha. [Y/N], can you hear me?”

Frightened eyes blink in confusion, searching for the source of the female voice echoing in the empty pool. Tears glide slowly down the poor girl’s cheeks along paths crusty with old salt.

“T-Tash-a?” Hoarse. Broken. The once rich sound has been reduced to a ghost. “Whe- Nat?”

The former spy recognises the grimaces caused by conflicting emotions that hurt more than any physical pain could ever do, and she wants to rush over to hold the woman. Keep her safe now when she couldn’t before…but one wrong move will be disastrous.

“I’m here. Can I come closer?”

Inch by inch, the abused woman unfolds enough to stretch her arms towards Natasha. One in each other’s embrace, [Y/N] keeps feelings the rescuer’s face and threading the dirty fingers through the flaming hair. A soft smile is on her lips, only wavering when Steve tries to come closer – at least he gets the point and retreats again.

“Y’ere,” the former prisoner sighs.

Unable to hold her own head any longer, she lets it sink onto Natasha’s shoulder. The redhead is thankful, that way she can allow her lips to quiver as they want to without the concern that the poor soul in her arms might see it. Fiddling with a zipper, she pulls out a syringe.

“I’m here, [Y/N].” At least her voice is still even. “I got you, go to sleep.” The needle finds its mark, unnoticed by the exhausted woman, and hot tears begin to fall on her head as the sedative enter her system. “I got you.”

91 notes · View notes

ifeveristoday · 4 years

Text

[video description: just me yelling for seven minutes straight]

Ok. Am I ready for this?

Every issue of the Boom! Verse has been building up layers of characterizations and the aftermaths of choices. Issue 9 shows us the fallout of two major events - the showdown at Sunnydale Museum, and Xander’s half Vampire state (and what Willow had to do to get him there).

It also touches on the fact that Buffy is in the Hellmouth with no way to contact the surface world.

Yet that isn’t the most pressing matter in this issue.

Relationships are frayed.

Everyone in the Scooby Gang is isolated.

Jenny has a cat.

Sorry, that’s not thematically relevant but I, as a cat person, am legally bound to discuss when there is a cat in media.

JENNY HAS A GREY TABBY WHAT IS THEIR NAME

Spoilers and reactions to issue nine under the cut - we scream and flail like men, who needs a review?

PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB

edited to correct that bit about Willow’s hair and level of evil it indicates

Something that Jordie used early on is the narrator POV (unreliable perhaps) and it returns to this issue. But instead of Xander or Willow, it’s Joyce. And she’s grieving about the world she’s lost but what every parent knows in the back of their mind: the world is tough and scary and so many bad things can happen. And Joyce has survived the attack but there’s no Buffy to commiserate with, to fuss over in person. (Also, what a nod to Joyce’s obliviousness in TV canon - to believe that Buffy would just go on a mandatory field trip with no phone connection.) Luckily, she has Eric, who is supportive and says all the right things.

Joyce’s disconnect with what she feels and the outside world’s determination to ‘life goes on’ is repeated in the rest of the issue, as our favorite Sunnydale residents deal with both small and large terrors.

Revelations besides Jenny’s cat:

Cordelia works in a clothing shop and there are some Portland looking dudes roaming around Sunnydale. Or maybe it’s Silver Lake. She still has a crush on Spike, because who hasn’t met a mysterious, well-muscled stranger emerging from the forest like a person-shaped Cheshire cat and thought, “Gotta get me some of that?”

I mean, a whole fairytale industry has grown up around that idea.

But despite all normal appearances (and Cordelia is the still most ‘normal’ character) and her Cordy Crew updates, life is not going to her plans. There are fissures erupting in the sidewalk, cracks appearing in walls, people are stressed and Cordelia can’t even play with her dog without falling over said fissures. Oh, and her books are dissolving into ash when she opens her locker.

So shit is horrible.

Willow’s dyed a black streak in her hair (honey, red hair is the hardest color to re-dye to. Your hair is so beautiful and now you’ve got to tone and strip the fuck out of that streak if you want a base to dye it red again - oh wait, magic, I guess) and is being rude and abrupt and just plain Not Willow with Rose and everyone.

Except Willow chafes at the idea of there being a standard for her - why should she be just the smart capable responsible one? While a vampire doppelganger doesn’t burst out of the wall and drawls that she’s bored now, Willow is resentful that Rose and everyone else expects her to be one way when hello, the world is on fire outside.

Rose has found out about the weird shit that goes on in Sunnydale and accuses Willow of keeping things from her, including giant bats and the fact that Buffy was there, and she, Willow’s girlfriend and considerably known her longer than Buffy (imp.) wasn’t there or told about it.

Willow naturally thinks that Rose being jealous of Buffy is just stupid, because Buffy isn’t even there and honestly she’s not even thinking about it. Which causes Rose to worry why is her empathetic Willow like this?

Which makes Willow lash out that she’s tired of having to be the one who has to consider everyone else’s feelings but her own? Why can’t she have the space to figure out what she wants?

And like that, Rose and Willow are on a break.

Xander, in direct contrast to everyone else around him, is calm and sensitive and just generally being a good bean. He’s concerned about Willow and Buffy, but he’s not crowding Willow. He’s patrolling in Buffy’s absence and making stakes and friends with raccoons - and all of his warm-heartedness and acceptance of ‘everyone’s journey is different’ upsets Giles, who is stubbly and running on presumably zero sleep as he worries about Buffy, and the break in his relationship.

Xander’s facade of handling all the weird crap Sunnydale’s thrown at him gets blown when he encounters a vampire delivery boy in the cemetery. He wins the fight, but the vampire’s words taunting him that they’re just monsters, and not in-between--unfinished like Xander is, resonates with him. Xander’s been doing so well, learning how to live and cope with his depression, being a good friend and responsible evil thwarter - and then to have Giles dismiss him so coldly? And to have one of his worst fears spoken out loud - he’s not human anymore. Not in the way that it used to count. And he’s only half a vampire - and there’s no one else straddling that line so he’s still alone.

Everyone needs a hug.

Especially Giles and Jenny, because shit, things get incredibly real in the next act. Giles heads over to Jenny’s house to make some kind of amends, but Jenny is understandably Not Having It. Giles disregards all of her reasonable requests, pushes past her and enters her home and then tries to make her understand how really, she’s wrong and he’s right and MAYBE IF SHE HADN’T GIVEN THE DAGGER TO DRUSILLA, THE WORLD WOULDN’T BE ON FIRE.

This is a mess. In so many ways Giles is wrong - he ignored her request to stay away, he invited himself in - and then spent too long trying to make excuses for why it was OK for him to do all of that shit. And he looks a hot mess while doing so - I don’t even think it’s the artwork style, it’s just that Giles is wild-eyed, wrecked, and actually slavering at the mouth as he tries to explain his point of view. He’s feverish and Jenny puts aside her anger for a minute to get him a glass of water. Like, yes, she’s furious with him, but she still loves him, even though this scary man practically foaming at the mouth doesn’t really look like her partner.

Jenny presses him on his attempt to protect them all, asking pointedly, what about her?

Giles automatically assumes she’s talking about Buffy and assures her that he knows Buffy’s capable of fending for herself, which is exactly the Wrong Thing to Say, because as previous issues have shown, Jenny is not cool with children having to save the world, and also, Buffy’s mom? How about her, Fuckhead Watcher Man.

And Giles goes and puts his whole head up his ass as he says that there are sacrifices that come with successes, as in any war - and Jenny loses it. Because Giles rants do you think that it’s easy for him to live to believe that everything in his life is disposable except for Buffy? That nothing else matters?

And Jenny reads the underlining footnote - if nothing matters, where does that leave her in his life?

FOR FUCK’S SAKE GILES YOU’RE DERANGED GO HOME

And Jenny’s cat agrees with me and hisses at him to leave Jenny alone.

Giles exits the house wondering aloud has everyone gone mad, while a suspicious rabbit looks on from the grass.

There’s a Tucker Wells/Andrew shades of who the fuck cares interlude about a lonely kid who stalks his school facebook to read the comments about classmates and I might be callous, but I actually do not care about those type of characters because guess what, lots of lonely kids and people out there and their first thought is not to kill everyone else. Anyway, I suspect this is a side effect of the Hellmouth magnifying negative thoughts.

It lingers on Buffy’s face and the comments - “She’s weird but hot.”

Now imagine that being her epitaph.

This pans over to the last sequence - Robin is chilling at home, and his dad (!!!) tells him to go to bed, he doesn’t care how much this town is falling apart. Robin’s dad believes in education.

And guess who shows up at his door in the late of night?

KENDRA.

And she hits him with a Star Wars reference. “Aren’t you a little short for a watcher?”

#i fucking live #boom! studios #spoilers and reactions #buffy comics

15 notes · View notes

ask-jaghatai-khan · 5 years

Text

The Vampire of Cairn

// A story set on the forgotten Pariah Planet, Cairn. Entirely inhabited by the soulless human mutants known as “Blanks”, the world was settled before the rise of the Imperium and remains cut off from the rest of the galaxy to this day. But secret intelligence suggests that the world is not as safe as it seems, and that danger might still lurk in a galaxy lost to myth.

—

A fog bank was rolling in, though here in the city it wasn’t so prominent save for on the major streets. What few transports there were, on the roads or in the sky, made themselves sparse rather than deal with the lack of visibility, as people sheltered for a while in the shops and offices to avoid the damp chill. The misty pall seemed to run down the main thoroughfares like a wave. It would pass soon, but for now it hung over the alleys and side-streets, shrouding the tops of buildings and casting the whole world in a dull silver, both the neon signs and midday sun becoming faint and washed-out in the gloom.

Zhi’s destination was an alley downtown, by 26th and Baobeng. His personal transport, a sleek black sedan, navigated itself along the reflective guidelines of the ground-level roads as he went over his notes. He’d not been to this city before – if you could call it a city. It was more of a post-industrial town, now in the final movements towards establishing itself as a cultural center. He didn’t recall what Tianshi was known for and he didn’t much care. The compact little city was not much different from many of these other sparse population centers in the DB Jinkou Provence, but it was the pattern that concerned him. His last lead for his current assignment had been a whole city over, in the more remote Borios. It suggested the mark was not just on the move, but capable of long-distance travel without notice, maybe even without assistance.

There was a ping on the console as the ETA hit two minutes. The Investigator closed his documents and detached his holopad from its charge port, before the government-issue transport skidded around to the alley’s entrance and settled down on its unfolding wheels. There were several other cars there already, some civil service, some civilian, all clustered around the official cordon.

It was lowkey, which was to Zhi’s liking. No flashing lights, no big groups of reporters. One local Sentinel was speaking with a handful of private broadcasters, but all the emergency vehicles were running silent, their personnel milling around inside, maybe processing data. The whole setup made it clear that whatever had happened, it had passed. Zhi’s flat shoes made his approach noticeable as they snapped along the damp pavement, the dark surface of the road reflecting the point lights of the various transport vehicles.

He flashed his badge, but the Sentinel didn’t even try to stop him. He walked with the air of his profession, which was not to be cut in front of. Moving on, the Investigator moved into the alley, cast in long shadows by the spotlights that had been brought in to examine the scene.

There were a couple of sealed dumpsters, a storm drain, and not much more. The adhesive residue marked where posters might have once been put up, but nothing more remained. Compared to the streetfront, where neon signs, greenboxes, and other solar gatherers gave off color and brightness despite the fog, the alley felt quite barren. All grey ferrocrete and weathered service pipes.

The scene of the crime itself was obvious, and rather simple. One body, face down in the damp, looking pretty bloody as well. Dried blood was being rehydrated by the moisture in the air, and was doing nothing for the corpse, giving off a slight smell of iron and onset decay. Two more Sentinels - marked by their dark outerwear, utility harnesses, and subtle insignias – stood about the scene before one took notice of the approaching Investigator.

“Hello.” They said with simple but respectful affectation. Almost questioning, as if Zhi wasn’t supposed to be there.

He extended a hand as he approached, his own dark trench coat matching the local colors rather well.

“Investigator Zhi, Consensus assigned.” Introducing himself, he held up his badge once more. The little metallic chit marked him as under permanent internal security contract to the Consensus Sciences Service.

“Li. I’m with the local Sentinels.” Her precise vocabulary identified her as a woman, and a rather metropolitan one too, for a Sentinel in a northern industrial town. Her hair was styled into a tight pink stripe on her head, and her matching hued eyes suggested cybernetics. Such quirks weren’t common outside the major hives, “We weren’t excepting the Fed.”

“Yes, well we’re just checking all our leads right now and this was brought to my attention.” Zhi clarified. He was far more mundane looking in comparison, as fit a Federal Investigator. Not drawing attention was part of the game.

“And might I ask a little more?” she shot back, still with respect though her body language was unyielding, “This is under our jurisdiction, after all. Is there something bigger we should be worried about?”

Sentinels were local law enforcement, though not in the conventional sense of eras past. They were more like an office between a community watch and a militia. More ad-hoc and concerned with the protection and proper law enforcement of their districts than any higher loyalties. With the right moves they could be amenable, but they were very ground-level and had some of the strongest unions, making outright hostility towards them a bad idea for even Federal agents.

Zhi took off his wide-brimmed hat, making clearer eye contact with Li.

“There’s some suspicion this might be part of a larger series of murders. That’s—”

“You mean the Vampire?” the other Sentinel came up then, no longer content in the background, and with some verve in his voice.

“That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” Zhi’s face went dark.

“Sentinel Chaleb.” Li gestured, “Apologies, though it’s a legitimate question. It’s been around the stations. Could it be that killer?”

“Impossible to say either way until I’ve had a look, eh?” the Investigator tilted his head.

Chaleb. The man must have been from somewhere rural before becoming a Sentinel in Tianshi. His name, inflection, and appearance – paler and with sandy hair – had the twinge of Goth in them. Didn’t much matter, but it was an observation Zhi made.

“Here.” Li stepped aside, gesturing to the body that lay half slumped onto its face in the damp. Zhi got in close for a better look.

Man of about middle age, perhaps seventy-eight, as he seemed in good health. His hair was dark and short-cropped, messy now that the damp had worked through whatever gel it looked like he’d used. He was dressed in simple formalwear, with the open-front black jacket that went down to about his knees, and the black underclothes to match.

“Victim was a Mr. Jia Ming, as our first data responses have come through.” Li informed, “Local. Worked at a distribution firm for signage products, I think. We took his datapad and are seeing about getting permission to access it from next of kin.”

“Injuries?” Zhi asked.

“Broken collarbone and shoulder on the left side—” he could see it, the way the joint folded in on itself in an odd way, “Though the coroner scan didn’t think that was simultaneous with main cause of death. They’re still processing the data.” She didn’t need to point, as it was obvious the man’s throat was cut wide open. It was clean, yet broad, as if done by a swordsman in an action vid. The man’s skin had gone ghost pale in death from how much of his blood had flowed out onto the pavement.

“He was found around 2 a.m. this morning.” Chaleb interjected, “The owner of this sandwich shop was closing up and found him.” He pointed to the wall on their right, against which the dumpsters sat.

“You say the shoulder wasn’t simultaneous with cause of death.” Zhi stood back up, content in verifying the facts.

“No, but it wasn’t from a blow either. The blunt force trauma doesn’t seem to match up from what the scans show. The pattern looked more like—”

“Impact from above?” Zhi shot in. She was good. Maybe trained to be a Sentinel.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh that’s spooky.” Chaleb shook his head, “Absolutely the Vampire. Did you see that one clip online? They were saying they could probably scale sheer walls.”

“Yeah so can I, if you sweet-talk my quartermaster enough.” The Investigator cut him off, “Was there anything else of interest?”

“Possible cam footage. We can’t get it, though.” Li gave him.

“Why not?”

“It’s the security cam from the sandwich shop. The owner’s spooked, maybe drowsy. They didn’t want to give us access.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Zhi assured, gesturing with his hat in a vague direction “away” from the scene, “Do you want to be involved, then?”

Li nodded, signing off to Chaleb that she’d be leaving and that he should guard the area of the corpse. It might be good, if the Sentinel had talked to the storeowner beforehand, to have her there again. With luck, the civilian might be put more at ease by the continuity.

As they got out of earshot of the other Sentinel, rounding the corner of the alley side by side, Li turned towards the Investigator.

“Do you think it’s the Vampire, then?” she asked, though the look on her face told Zhi that she wasn’t keen on using the name, her pink eyes squinting.

“I’m getting sick of hearing that word.” Zhi walked forward another pace, annoyed at the stop, the sign and door of the sandwich shop visible just down the road.

As far as he knew, the nickname had been picked for the style in which the killer worked. Clean kills, along with the untraceable escapes. Still sounded stupid to him, but then most spree-killer nicknames tended to be.

“There’s been a lot of strange things in the news. People have been putting together all kinds of theories.” She continued, trudging beside him, “There were those signals they were talking about from the Jingshe belt that they said were nothing a month later. Then that meteor strike just a few weeks ago near Shuguan, and the murders in Shuguan they stopped reporting on after a week, and now these deaths going from city to city all the way here.”

“So what then, alien serial killer from outer space?” Zhi tried to sound as sarcastic as possible, wishing they could just pick up the damn pace.

“Maybe? There’s precedent. The Men of Iron came from space. We came from space.” She wasn’t wrong.

“Sounds like a fun story.” The Investigator just brushed it off as they reached the shop. The glass sliding door was barred with a shutter but knocking still produced a solid sound.

“I’m just saying, that’s what the theories have been online.” Li finished her piece, face flushing a little as if she’d been embarrassed at getting so caught up in the theory.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the net.” Zhi replied. The Sentinel glanced at his eyes – the man couldn’t have been much older than her based off looks, but his eyes – they seemed to be weighed down, drooping with some deep fatigue the rest of his face resisted.

There was a clanking, a latch-releasing kind of sound, and one of the individual panels that made up the collapsible door screen pulled away to reveal the eyes of a middle-aged individual. A woman, maybe, though as a city-man Zhi never made assumptions by habit.

“You’re back?” they asked.

“I heard you might have recordings that could help us.” The Investigator spoke up, while Li just provided aesthetic support, “Really all I’m interested in. Wouldn’t take a moment of your time, and I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Who are you?” their eyes were brimming with concern.

He flashed his badge, though he doubted they’d recognize it by training, “Federal Investigator. This might be important; you’d be doing us all a big favor.”

They shook their head, “I-I don’t want to get involved with anything. This is all really messed up.”

“Yeah, that tends to be the case.” He nodded, “May I ask your name?”

“Ling.” they gave.

“Your shop?” Zhi asked.

“It’s my shop, yes.” They answered.

“I’m not fully authorized for this, but I could promise you a degree of protection if you agree to help me, Ling.” Zhi tried his luck, “Maybe a vacation ticket as a gift? You can leave town for a little bit, and I imagine even if there is danger it’ll have blown over by then. Does that sound amenable?”

They seemed to mull it over for a bit, before their eyes conveyed a nod, and the latch shut. A few moments later, and the automated rails of the door screen were lifting the metal plates into the ceiling, and they were let inside with the accompanying ring of a bell.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Ling stammered, “It’s just this kind of stuff never happens out here. Maybe the occasional thief, but nothing like this.” They ushered the two inside.

It was quite a large shop, with a good amount of sitting room. Zhi suspected outdoor seating might not be so popular in this town, what with the fog drifts being predominant for most of the year. It was amazing the greenboxes on the buildings were in good order.

“Here, just follow me. I haven’t checked the footage. Just download it off, if you want. I’d really rather not look at it.” The shopkeep was rather short, old in appearance but with a youthful demeanor and a neat bun hairstyle. Altogether regular and tidy, and very out of place in any kind of trouble.

The duo was led back through the shop, past the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and through a locked door to the second level. Their destination was one of several doors lining the hallway, like a janitorial closet. Ling gave them access with her datapad. It was a small room, though very neat and with an impressive computer setup, with multiple monitors and a decent unit from what Zhi could surmise.

“Pretty heavy-duty stuff. This all for security?” Li inquired.

“This building is actually bigger than just this shop. There’re some offices upstairs, a few other food places around the back, and uh, some apartments. Very compact. I live here too.” They explained, “It’s just I’m also the building manager, so I deal with ensuring most of the security and utilities.”

It wasn’t so uncommon. Zhi just didn’t know how they had the energy to run an eatery while also being the community in-between for the whole building. He’d be as high-strung if he had to deal with anything more than what his one job already dumped in his lap.

The civilian logged in and gestured to the chair, stepping out of the way of the two officers.

“Just, uh – do what you need to do and then you can just leave it. I’ll give you space.” They smiled, “Oh but uh, just the security cam footage please.”

“Of course.” Li assured.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for a lawsuit, I’ll just be a moment.” Zhi was a bit brusquer.

“Strange one.” Li commented once they were alone, as she leaned over Zhi’s shoulder to watch him at work.

“Overworked. Could’ve been anything, they’d have snapped from the stress. Just unfortunate it had to be a murder.” Perception was something of a trade specialty. Having dealt with all manner of civilians who had actual things to hide, he’d grown accustomed to sussing out the weird from the suspect.

Li watched with some surprise as the Investigator brought up one of his hands. She hadn’t noticed until now, but he wore a drab brown glove on just one hand, having done most of his gesturing with the other until now. He pulled off the covering to expose unfleshed augmetics – a silver and angular surrogate with many odd details about its surface. With a few internal adjustments, as the various components moved on their own, one prong stuck up from his index finger. He inserted the interface probe into the input port of the computer. At once, his operations on the monitor moved ten times faster, as he navigated as quick as thought.

“Cool aug’.” she commented, as one cyborg to another.

“Trade tool.” He said without much passion.

In moments he’d located the cam files and sorted through the different streams from the few sentries around the building to the one that sat at the edge of the rooftop, watching the alley. So much security. If he was a Sentinel he’d maybe be concerned that something unsavory was up in this commune, but it wasn’t his department. Maybe some kind of hedonist club. So long as it was nothing sketchy it wasn’t a problem anyways.

“Alright, and—” he muttered, as he spun back the hours to the night before, looking for the moment at which the body on the pavement would stand itself back up again.

“There!” Li pointed, as if he couldn’t see it. The man had been cutting through the alley, and a whirl of something fast had dropped him like a bag of rocks. Zhi did his best to zoom, but the resolution was lacking in the darkness.

“Someone over him.” He assessed, “Holding him down.” He pointed with his free hand. On top of the form of the victim was a hunched figure. Dark, though its head stood out by a faint glint in the shadows. It was stooped over the man, holding him there as he writhed, doing something. They waited.

There was a sudden flash of movement. The figure’s arm came up holding something in its hand, and the victim’s head jerked back with it. His throat had been slashed. Without pause, the killer stood and rushed with almost inhuman agility over to one of the dumpsters, vaulting off it, then the sheer side of the wall, and they were out of frame.

“What on Cairn?” Li muttered.

“Wait.” Zhi wanted to check something. He rewound the footage, back before the first attack. He played it slow, watching it unfold as the dark figure returned to the kill, and then shot up into the sky.

“Augmetics? How’d they fall like that?” the Sentinel asked.

“You’re killing me. Please.” Zhi shushed her, his gaze trained on the screen. She glanced at him in irritation but noticed something had come into those drooping eyes. They were locked on the monitor like a sniper’s scope.

“Here.” He pointed again. It was at a portion of the roof’s edge just caught by the camera. There was a shadow and – a foot. A black-clad boot, resting just at the very corner of the camera’s periphery.

“What kind of camera—? Ah.” The Investigator check the readouts in the corner of the footage, “Microreceptor. Explains the resolution as much as why our perp didn’t catch the camera.” Partial-3D microreceptor, a kind of microcam preferred for being very small and discreet in part, but also for its unique rendering pattern. You could “rotate” microceptor footage in three dimensions to some degree, making it easier to spot details in normal blind spots.

“The peripheries on these things are usually blurry.” Zhi spoke. Li had some familiarity, but she was more focused on the footage, “But if I uncrop the frame let’s see what we can get.”

He did so, as the whole edge of the recording pulled back to show the actual rendering of the scene. It was circular, the center in full clarity while the edges feathered out in the peripheral vision of the microceptor. Li gasped, while Zhi sat still as a dead man.

It was a humanoid figure perched on the edge of the rooftop, kneeling as if ready to leap. The outline was blurry from the recording technique, but the image was clear enough. Human, or humanoid, with a black skintight suit enveloping its entire body. Faint distortions in the silhouette suggested items strapped to the figure’s frame, though it was hard to tell.

What was clearest was the face. Inhuman, twisted, insidious. It was a mask, as far as Zhi could tell. He hoped it was, at the very least. It was made in the shape of a leering white skull, distended at the cranium into an elongated form that curved back over their shoulders. As if that was not strange enough, one eye was absent, instead being replaced with a much larger augmetic lens, which swept back with its own tube casing parallel to the side of the mask. The distortion gave them just the bare form – the stylized skull, the one odd eye, the freakish head, all set atop the otherwise sleek, lithe body. Zhi restarted the footage and watched the ghoulish shape leap from out of obscurity down into the alley, crushing the unsuspecting man beneath its weight. going about whatever it had subjected him to before the final cut.

Li didn’t say it aloud, but she thought it in her head. The word seemed right, for such a ghastly anomaly. “Vampire.”

Zhi wished he could’ve been happy with finding his mark. Instead his thoughts were flooded with threads, choices. There was going to be untold friction with the CSS, to say nothing of the matter of catching whatever this – thing was. Its skull face just leered with cold, unmoving expression as he rewound the footage again, staring into its empty mask eyes. The body of a human – and the visage, the movements of something else.

The world of Cairn did not yet have an answer for this.

#warhammer #40k #pariah planet #culexus #homebrew

23 notes · View notes

carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

Link

Chapter 15 is up! The penultimate chapter of Can’t Find My Way Home. Thank you all for your support of this fic--the comments, the private messages, the kudos. I appreciate it so very much.

Just one more chapter after this. . .

Chapter 15

Baz

I don’t know how they expect us to actually open the office in London if all we do in these planning meetings is rehash everything we discussed at the last meeting. The agenda may as well be rubbish; it’s not as if we ever follow it.

I don’t say much. I can’t be bothered anymore. I’m tired of trying to keep people on track when most of them only want to hear the sound of their own voices.

Philippa gave me a blistering after the last meeting. She seemed to think I’d cut her off and stifled her opportunity to “voice her opinion.” Bollocks. She’d nattered on for almost ten minutes about the décor, which is literally the least important issue facing us at the moment.

I’m certainly not one to shun tastefully chosen interior design, but when we haven’t even finalized a transition team and we’re barely three months away from said transition, I find discussions on the merits of sage and taupe versus silver and charcoal grey quite maddening.

I find everything about this vexing. I’m part of these meetings, perforce, but no one has officially named me to the actual on-site transition team. The staff composition for the London office is still a mystery.

I don’t even think we’re going to make the May target date.

It’s even more unbearable being here in New York now. It was barely tolerable before the holiday but now, with Simon in London, it’s absolutely excruciating.

I really don’t know why I even bothered to come back. I should give my notice and go home. I’ve got contacts in the industry, references and credentials that are impeccable. I could find a job in London and Simon and I could take up where we left off. Which would make life infinitely better.

But I’m a Pitch and we don’t give up, even in the direst of circumstances.

I committed to this transition and I am a man of my word.

Fuck it all.

Simon

I do my best not to ask Baz about work anymore. I’m curious of course, because I’m me, but I try to restrain myself. Talking about work drags on him. He looks pale and wan when we Facetime as it is.

Last time we spoke he reluctantly admitted that the London transition was a bit of mess. Didn’t say much more than that, but his expression said it all. He’s worried they won’t make the May date.

Which means he won’t be coming to London then.

I don’t know what that means for him overall. I know he’s talked about leaving, finding another position here, with another firm.

I’d like that. But I don’t want him to do that for me. He’s got to do it for himself, not for us.

So I do my best to distract him when we talk. Tell stories about work, the boys in the home. How I totally bollocksed up the art class and spilled half the paint on my shirt. The day I managed to get free tickets to a football match for the older boys. The way the little ‘uns like to hear my stories of the scrapes I got into at Watford.

The grim details of how the older boys completely thrashed me when we played football on the green. I am shit at goal.

It makes Baz smile and that means the world to me.

Baz

It’s finally set. The transition team has been named and I’m on it. The London office tentative opening date has been pushed back to late June, but the team is scheduled to be there starting in May.

I’m in charge of operations. I finally have some fucking control of this disaster. I live for this kind of thing—bringing organization to chaos. It’s in my blood.

The whole thing is a fucking wreck and I’m sure to be driven mad before the end.

But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Two months. I’ll be back in London in two months.

Simon

He’s still pale but Baz is far more animated when we Facetime now. He’s drilling the team in preparation for the move. He’s in his element when he’s in charge like this; his eye on all the moving parts, relieved to finally have some control.

Not that he’s clear of the dark days. Plenty of those still. His coworkers all sound like berks.

I’m just glad he’s going to be back here in May.

I miss him.

I know that might be a stupid thing to say, when we only had those few days together in December. I’ve got years of being with Baz, under less friendly circumstances mind you, but still. It was easy to let myself fall into the comfort of being in his company again.

Easier to admit some truths I’d been shoving away for far too long.

I can’t say there isn’t a tinge of apprehension. We’ve just gotten to know each other again, and I don’t know whether this blaze of affection that manifested months ago will continue to burn as bright when we’re together again or proximity and familiarity will quench the fire of it.

I’d like to think it won’t.

I’ve never fallen for someone in this way before, so completely and overwhelmingly. I mean I loved Agatha but I wasn’t in love with her. The idea of a happy ever after, even a bland and sedate one, was alluring for someone like me.

But settling is never in anyone’s best interest.

With Baz, even if it was only a matter of days, I felt like I’d found what I’d always been missing. The last piece of the puzzle. The place I fit.

Home. That’s what I mean. The idea that once you find home, that’s that. You keep that person, if they let you.

I think Baz will let me keep him.

Baz

I toss my keys on the table, toe off my shoes and collapse on the sofa.

I’m exhausted. Knackered. Utterly spent.

It’s been a fucking week. Friday couldn’t come soon enough. I glance at my watch. It’s almost eleven o’clock back home. Not too late to Facetime Simon.

I dial his number and wait. It takes a few rings for him to pick up but the wave of warmth that rushes through me at the sight of his face is frankly embarrassing.

Fuck, I miss him.

“Baz!” Simon’s face lights up as he stares into his screen. He’s holding it up close so I can see the pattern of moles and freckles on his face clearly.

“Hello, love.” I drink in the sight of him. His hair is drooping over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed, and he looks ridiculously pleased to see me.

The feeling is mutual.

He pulls back a bit and frowns at the screen. “You look tired. Another shit day?”

“They’re all shit days.”

It’s my turn to frown at my mobile. The background behind Simon looks awfully familiar, but it’s not the one I was expecting to see, not the one I’m used to viewing behind him when I call.

The reason manifests itself an instant later.

“Sod off, Baz. You’re fucking up our movie night.” Fiona’s face pops up, obscuring Simon completely.

“What the fuck is Simon doing at your flat?” No wonder it looked familiar. What the hell is going on?

Fiona raises an eyebrow and glares at me. “I just told you, you dolt. It’s movie night. Hurry the fuck up. We’re watching Lost Boys and Jason Patric just came on screen. I’m not about to forgive you for making me pause that.” She disappears but I can still hear her grumbling in the background.

“What the hell, Simon?”

“She rang me up a while back. We’ve met up at the pub a few times, for drinks and karaoke, but she wanted to do a movie night this time.”

“This time? How often do you and Fiona get together?” Why do I know nothing of this? What the actual fuck.

Her face pops back up, full-on glare this time. “Baz. Kiss the screen or do whatever the fuck you do when you Facetime Snow, but for the last time, wrap it the fuck up. We’ve got a movie to watch here.”

“Why is she glaring at me like that?” I ask Simon as he retakes his mobile from my wretched aunt.

He waggles his eyebrows at me and grins. “Oh, that’s just her fond glare.”

Fucking hell.

Simon

My mobile chimes from the table. I pull the roast all the way out of the oven and set it on the stovetop before I toss the potholders aside and focus on the screen.

Baz: May 17th.

Simon : what

Baz: We just finalized the dates. I fly home May 17th.

Simon: !!!!!

Simon: about bloody time they gave you an actual date

Simon: wankers

Baz: I convinced them to push back the opening to July 1st.

Baz: I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend your birthday stressed and working all hours.

Simon: you didn’t have to do that

Simon: but thank you

I glance at the calendar. Less than a month away.

Baz

My eyes sweep around the flat one last time, just to make sure I’ve got everything. I’ve already set my luggage by the door—the same two suitcases I arrived with almost a year ago. No more, no less.

The keys go in an envelope. I’ll drop it in the building manager’s mailbox on my way out.

There’s a ping from my mobile.

Ah. The Uber driver is waiting downstairs.

This is it. I’m finally done with this miserable chapter of my life. I’m not sure work is going to be any less miserable, just by virtue of it being in London, but I’ll be in London, which is really all that matters.

I’ll be near Simon again.

I can sort the rest of it later. The new office, the job, if I even want to stay employed at this firm.

I have time to figure that all out.

I look around once again. There’s no nostalgia. I’m well rid of this place. But I can be grateful for one thing: if I hadn’t been in New York I’d never have run into Simon. I’d never have found him again. It’s all been worth it, just for that chance encounter. Every sodding minute of it.

I can’t waste my time reminiscing. There’s a flight to catch. There damn well better not be any storms.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #travel au #my fics #My writing #one more chapter to go

31 notes · View notes

fmdxyoungjoo · 5 years

Text

❆ Shared Home Video Prompt

Premise: Casting Video Prompt for “Shared Home” Word Count: 1,237 words A/N: Casting Video Prompt for #fmdshaudition ; 2nd task

Its not necessarily something that she has to get – Youngjoo thinks as her manager hands her the details for the audition for “Shared Home”. But Gold Star wants to play on her recent re-appearances in the industry, plus, it would be a great source of promotion for Silhouette with their upcoming album and promotions to have someone on a variety show, filling up the slots and reminding everyone that they actually do–somewhat exist, despite the lesser times that Silhouette actually makes a comeback. She hasn’t done something as similar to a v-live or a video taping of herself in a long while, despite having been on a variety show just a few weeks before. Law of the Jungle was still broadcasting, and being rather well received, much to her relief. The return of the clumsy but warm hearted personality of the Silhouette leader proved endearing to the masses, and that was more than enough for the older girl.

Soft strains of music starts off in the video that’s recorded, the low hum of her Young-joo’s voice filling up the small space as she reaches for something beyond the camera, a yelp falling from her lips as a crash resounds through the air, followed by the soft scoot of her feet against the carpeted floor, the recording camera carefully placed aside as she gathers up her her composition file and sits, tilting the camera back in the best position possible, the dim fairy lights that adorned the back post of her bed twinkling softly as the low throaty hum of billie eilish filled the room.

“Hello, its currently–9pm here.” It only takes a fraction of a moment for Joo to glance at the clock on the wall, a soft laugh on her lips as she hoists the camera up to face level, biting her lips delicately as though considering a little on what to say next. “It your resident klutz Young-joo.. in her own apartment, trying to find ways to relax without ending up a complete mess. ” A soft huff of a laugh bubbles from her lips as she stifles her grin, a slight shake of her head a little self-deprecating as she shuffles on the carpeted door with her bare feet. She’s dressed simply in a loose shirt and slacks, with her hair tied into a bun and a yawn upon her lips as she whirls around in a circle, laughing aloud as she gave the camera a whole perfect view of her neatly decorated room. The quilts were a soft shade of grey, the pillows fluffy and plumped, carefully smoothened out, the lights above the bed dim and full of ambiance as they winked slightly above the head of the bed. The whole room is neatly kept and lived in, with a strange sort of slight perfection to the bedroom as a whole, as though someone had came in and compulsively neatened everything almost nervously before the video had begun. The air filter whirred softly at the foot of the bed, the faintest scent of lavender drifting through the air as Young-joo stooped down at the foot of the bed, lifting up the scented lavender oil bottle that she had decorated and waved it in front of the camera.

“This is one of my favourite scented oils, lavender scent oils. I actually made some tweaks to the scented oil, because I found most scented oils that permeate the room a little too powerful.” She explained softly, the calm timbre of her voice filtering through the camera as she tapped the half filled glass of the oil. “ This scented oil is just enough to let a faint scent of lavender drift through the air. Lavender scents are always good for bedtime, because they actually do help to relax your muscles and enhance your sleep. I often use these oils when I get a little too stressed. Just..light a flame below, and pour a little bit of the oil onto the bowl on top of the flame.” She paused for a moment, using her hand to waft the scent around. “ And the softest scent of lavender will scent the room.” She sighed, completely satisfied with how she had carried out her taping so far. “ So..hm..what are some problems that I think I might face while living in a house with other idols?” She asked aloud, reading off the page just for the question as she tilted her head contemplatively.

“ Well, I think it would take a whole lot of adjustment all over again for me to be living with a group of people, since Silhouette hasn’t been in a dorm of years.” She flopped back on the bed, stretching comfortably with a faint mewl. “Adapting to each other’s faults and habits? For me personally, not getting too picky with people no picking up after themselves?” She gave a throaty chuckle. “ I’ve picked up after my Silhouette girls so much that its become somewhat of a second nature to be a bit of a mother hen.” She admitted it sheepishly. “ Its definitely hard though, living alone. I’m pretty much of a homebody, so I don’t really take much of the initiative to go outside and see others.” She abandoned the script of the questions that was given to her, stretching out on her belly on the bed, half burying her face in the covers as she felt the corners of her lips lift delicately. “Its a bad habit that only worsened after we all moved into our different apartments. Not finding the time to come back together unless really necessary, even though we still talk to each other on our chats.” She mused quietly, completely forgetting about the existence of a camera in her bedroom as she peered back at the camera lens, talking as though she would to a normal person, with a faint pout on her lips and a rough brush of her hand through her hair.

“On the topic of home though–” Joo blinked for a moment, filtering through her thoughts contemplatively as she gathered the blankets about her, exhaling a deep sigh. “ I think home is wherever I get to find people I’m comfortable with. And most of all wherever my precious book of private things is.” She clutched her book of compositions to her chest protectively. “I’m flexible, so anywhere can be home.” Her eyes dropped slightly as she picked against the hem of the blanket covering her legs. “Its always been that way anyway, from the very beginning. So it didn’t really matter to me whether this apartment was new or not, or wherever I was staying…as long as I felt comfortable and had the things that made up the core of me with me, anywhere would be home.” Her eyes crease as she tilts her head. “Oh crap–” The soft alarm at the corner of her bed from the second clock she has by the bedside jolts Young-joo out of her reverie, and the sheets rustle as she reaches for the camera with the slightest frown on her delicate face. “ Its almost 10pm. I can’t believe I spent an hour talking about something as plain as home just like this. But, well…I guess I have?” She echoed a little questionably, before laughing to herself. “I’ve always been comfortable with making do with myself anyway, so that isn’t much of a surprise. Good night!”

#fmdshaudition #||THREADS**❆ another meeting #||CAREER**❆ shining like diamonds in the skies #((cross my fingers))#((+3 points))#((wc: 1237 words))

6 notes · View notes