hellraiser (2022) enthusiast

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3

summary : after almost a year as windfall, it is time for her first event with bombsight, neither of them planned that it would go all wrong.

pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)

warnings : angst, mentions of death, character almost dying, vought being assholes again, but happy ending.

Chicago, 1953

The military exhibition was just pure marketing even if Vought sold this as a patriotic act. As if they were paying respects to the lives lost during the war.

There were American flags stretched across every building while marching bands could be heard from afar.

Thousands of civilians were crowded against barricades. They were fighting to be in front and get the best spot to see America's heroes in flesh.

To bombsight, it was the perfect recipe for disaster. The crowds were already going crazy and he doubted that using powers near them was really a bright idea but once again, Vought gave him no choice.

“You’re scowlin’ again.”

Chiara's voice was what pulled him from his thoughts as he glanced sideways toward her. She was standing beside him near the center of the exhibition platform that overlooked the city square.

For the moment, they were still hidden by the curtains, giving them the freedom to act however they wanted before having to perform for the crowd.

Wind was tugging at the golden cape, while her blonde hair was curled perfectly and her makeup made her look like the picture perfect Hollywood star.

She looked beautiful tonight. She always did but today, Vought outdid themselves for her first real interaction with the crowd.

But it only made his stomach twist with dread because beneath that make-up and smile, she looked exhausted. Sometimes, it even looked like she was going to pass out.

Most people couldn't tell but he could. He noticed how pale she had become those last few weeks and the powder barely concealed it. Her smile also looked strained and whenever she used her powers, he noticed how her hands started shaking.

Vought were the only ones who also noticed but they didn't care.

“You alright?” He asked quietly even though he doubted she would be honest about it.

She still had a hard time opening up about her more negative feelings, always afraid of it burdening the person she would confess to. He knew it came mostly from her upbringing but now that they were together, he hoped that it would change with time.

He was proven right when she smiled at him.

“I am,” she replied even if both knew that it was a lie. But he did not have the opportunity to push further when one of Voughts's handlers approached them.

“Places. We're live in thirty seconds.”

His jaw tightened at this. Of course it was live, Vought had to make everything into a spectacle.

He couldn't even pay attention to the orchestra swelling or the announcers introducing them, he was too focused on the way her fingers brushed briefly against his hand.

It was as if searching for grounding before being forced apart for the cameras. His hand instinctively closed around hers for half a second before the handler had enough and forced her to move away.

Everything felt heavier today. As if the atmosphere itself knew something was going to go wrong.

Even his jacket felt heavier, but that was for another reason. A vial of V1 was hidden in his pocket, he stole it as soon as Chiara confessed to him that her powers were killing her.

He never planned on stealing it until that day. But it all changed with her because he knew that he would do anything to keep her safe.

When the announcer's voice boomed again at the same time the curtains were drawn open.

“Begin launch simulation,” one of Vought employees said behind them.

And they just needed to look up to see the artificial missiles being activated along a suspended cable system. Vought really did go all out for this event.

At first, everything went perfectly as he easily intercepted the first missile while Chiara redirected another with more controlled currents of air.

And everyone seemed to love it, if he took into account the way they were constantly blinded by flashes while their names were screamed by the crowd.

But something ended up malfunctioning in the middle of it. Since the beginning, a missile kept jerking violently but now it was its time to shine as the cable suddenly snapped, sending the missile plummeting directly towards the crowd.

Before he could even react, Chiara was on it as she tried to redirect the missile away before it could hit the ground.

To his relief, it worked, but only for a second but the missile detonated prematurely. Something neither of them could have anticipated.

The explosion ripped across the square and it shook the nearby buildings while shockwaves slammed through the crowd.

And Chiara ? She completely lost control as the winds erupted outward her body in violent bursts, sending the barricades flying and the windows shattering.

The sound of civilians screaming was deafening but he forced himself through the storm in search of her.

“CHIARA!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he desperately looked around.

When he finally saw her, she collapsed on the ground near the ruined platform. The concrete beneath her cracked from the pressure of the winds that kept erupting from her body.

She was on her knees, her trembling hands pressed against the pavement as if she could hold herself together and contain her powers. As if she could stop herself.

Blood was pouring heavily from her nose and she had coughing first that made her spit blood.

Even though she was in clear pain, she couldn't stop apologizing because no matter what, she couldn't stop herself.

“I'm sorry–” she choked between two coughing fits. “I can't–”

Another violent gust erupted from her, making the cars around them rock violently, almost sending them flying.

He only managed to reach her the moments her arms gave out beneath her, sending her to collapse hard onto the pavement.

“Chiara!” he yelled in panic as he dropped beside her instantly, grabbing her head before it could smash against the ground.

But terror filled him as soon as he had her in his arms. Her body felt weak, way too weak and way too cold. Blood stained the corner of her lips while she struggled to breathe, as if every inhale was painful to her.

And at every spike of pain tearing through her, the wind grew stronger.

“Hey,” he said quickly as he carefully cradled her face, smudging blood on his gloves and her cheeks. “Stay with me.”

Yet her eyes barely focused on him, she was unable to truly pay attention to him.

“Robbie…” she still managed to mutter before another cough tore through her violently. Blood splattered across his jacket as she did so, but he couldn't care about that when she was literally dying in his arms.

“It hurts,” she whispered weakly.

Those two words broke his heart as he remembered how she told him that her powers were killing her. He knew that if he didn't do anything right now, her organs would all shut down and he couldn't let that happen.

He made his décision almost instantly as he shoved his hand inside his jacket to retrieve that small syringe that held the V1.

Once she noticed the syringe between his fingers, the blue liquid, fear flickered in her eyes as she could only remember how that same liquid was killing her right now.

“No…” she muttered between ragged breaths.

“I know.” he cooed as he tried to reassure her. He knew she didn't trust the liquid in that syringe but it was the only way to save her.

She stopped for a second when she noticed the look of genuine fear on his face. It was the first time that she saw that look in his eyes since she met him. He was not scared for himself but for her.

“I stole it.”

The winds around them only grew stronger, covering the screams of the Vought employees.

“Robbie… don’t…” she pleaded as she weakly tried to grab his wrist.

“You’re dying.”

The hand still cradling her cheeks was trembling as his thumb rubbed her cheek to dry her pained tears. Yet, at the same time he was smudging her own blood there.

“You think I’m gonna sit here and watch that happen?” His voice cracked harshly as he seemed ready to break down at the mere thought of her dying. “No. No goddamn way.”

Before she could try to reply, another coughing fit stopped her, splattering even more blood onto his uniform.

At this sight, he knew he couldn't wait anymore as he directly moved to uncap the syringe.

“Forgive me later.”

Then, without any hesitation, he drove the needle into her arm and injected the V1.

Almost instinctively, she screamed and her body squirmed violently against him. The winds got so strong that they slammed him backwards but he held onto her, wrapping his arm around her so she wouldn't get hurt in the process.

“Chiara!”

He could see the way her blue veins were glowing unnaturally beneath her skin as the V1 was spreading fast while she became almost still in his arms.

For a moment, he thought that he killed her himself but suddenly, everything stopped. The winds vanished as the debris that were previously floating around crashed onto the ground.

The following silence felt heavy into the now empty and ruined streets. But he couldn't focus on that, not when she was still limp in his arms.

“Chiara.” he tried once, the lack of response making him panic.

“Chiara!” he tried again, gently shaking her. He needed her to wake up.

And finally, a shaky breath escaped her lips. It was weak but it was there. At this, relief flooded him and a heavy exhale escaped his lips when her eyes opened once again.

The burst blood vessels in her eyes faded almost directly while her breathing seemed smoother.

When her gaze met his, the air suddenly felt warmer as his mere presence was enough to calm down the atmosphere itself.

He didn't even dare to move, scared that if he did, she would go limp again and reveal that he didn't save her, that it was all in his head.

But when she tried to reach for him, he broke. He pulled her tightly against his chest as he buried his face into her hair. He knew she could feel the erratic beat of his heart and how shaky his breath was but he didn't care.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he whispered against her hair. He then pressed kisses there, unable to stop himself, it was a way for him to make sure that she really was there.

Meanwhile, she weakly buried her face against his shoulders, unable to truly process what happened to her.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. You're alive and that's what matters.”

They both could hear the sirens through the streets and the way the Vought executives were screaming their names from afar.

But none of that mattered to him. What mattered is that she was alive, that she was here.

part 1 ; part 2

summary : one news seems to be enough to change everything between chiara and robbie

pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)

warning : SMUT (18 +), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), mentions of death, a bit of angst but also a bit of fluff

The first sign that something was wrong with her happened during filming a new commercial.

At first, she believed that it was exhaustion. After all, Vought was constantly pushing her schedule harder and harder now that Windfall was getting more famous in America.

She was now doing more interviews, more commercials beside bombsight because audiences adored the two together.

She ignored the warning signs such as dizziness whenever she used her powers for too long. Or the constant headaches blooming behind her eyes. Or even the sharp pressure in her chest whenever she lost control over her powers.

Vought doctors dismissed her worries so she did the only thing she could do, to keep smiling.

—

The commercial took place inside a familial house where Bombsight was supposed to return to after a fake military operation while Windfall greeted him home.

It was domestic and Vought adored it. They knew that the audiences would adore this.

The cameras rolled while Chiara cooked, making the ingredients float around her.

“Beautiful,” the director encouraged, clearly proud of how far she had come since her first commercial.

Then, Bombsight stepped into frame beside her. As soon as he was near her, the air shifted around them. Every time he was near her, her heartbeat reacted.

“Welcome home,” she recited softly as she offered him a bright smile.

“Miss me?” he asked smoothly. It was scripted but the smiles that tugged both of their lips weren't.

“Unfortunately.” At her reply, he snorted quietly beneath his breath and the director adored this scene.

“Keep that,” he shouted excitedly. “That chemistry right there.”

She tried to stay focused on the scene, on her script but suddenly, a sharp pain split through her chest making her unable to breathe.

Every ingredient dropped on the ground while wind surged outward hard enough to shake the lights. At this, some of the crew members stepped back immediately, fearing for their own safety.

Yet, bombsight was the only who didn't look at her in annoyance, but in concern. She was pale, way too pale.

“Cut!” the director yelled. “Jesus Christ—”

The short break allowed her to press a trembling hand against her ribs while she struggled to breathe normally again.

“I’m okay,” she managed automatically as she already felt guilty about interrupting the shooting. Especially after how well everything was starting to evolve.

But that wasn't enough to convince him as he was already walking toward her, not even letting her finish speaking.

“You don’t look okay.”

“It’s just stress.” she quickly replied as she didn’t want him to worry too.

“Bullshit.”

The words came out sharp, maybe way sharper than intended but he was more worried about her than about his own tone.

Still, he lowered his voice almost immediately when he noticed the startled look crossing her face.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just… sit down a second.”

Before she could even protest or act like she was fine, his hand settled against the small of her back to guide her toward a nearby chair.

The feeling of his hand, even gloved, resting against her back grounded her. Once sat, his hand moved to rest on her knee, drawing soothing circles on the exposed skin.

Unfortunately for her, Vought noticed her state.

—

Three days later, Vought asked her to come to the medical wing once again. It was her second time and by now, the white walls and leds became suffocating and too familiar.

They kept monitoring whenever she was using her powers, whether by making wind bursts or by dropping the oxygen in the room. Those examinations left her completely exhausted.

But today, the doctors looked nervous, and she knew that it meant one thing, that it was bad.

She sat on the edge of the examination while two doctors quietly reviewed the papers together across the room. They weren’t concerned by the fact that she could hear them.

“She’s deteriorating faster than expected.” one said “The vascular strain is worsening.”

Some of those words were pure gibberish to her but it was easy to understand that it was bad, like really bad.

“And her lungs?” one of the two asked, creating a small silence as they both looked at the paper.

“Pulmonary damage.”

A feeling of dread settled heavily inside her stomach. She wasn’t dumb, she knew that it was bad and that she probably would die if the list kept getting longer.

Finally, one of the two men approached her directly, making her look up at him. Just a look at his professional expression was enough to make this feeling of dread even more suffocating.

“Miss Adami,” he said slowly, in a rehearsed voice, as if he was trying to calm down a skittish animal. “Your body is struggling to adapt to the Compound V.”

“What do you mean ?” She asked as she felt her throat tightening, but she refused to break down in front of them.

“It means that your powers are placing stress on your organs faster than anticipated.” He said calmly, as if he wasn't telling her that she was literally dying.

“Your generation of supes is still experimental compared to V1. So we still are unaware of some of the side effects.”

His words made her feel sick, she felt ready to puke but she forced herself to stay calm.

“You'll need monitoring,” he continued, not even caring about sparing her feelings. “We will make sure to reduce your emotional strains, to avoid some of your power output whenever it's possible.”

She almost laughed at this. As if Vought would care about putting less pressure on one of their products. They cared more about money than about them.

“What happens if it gets worse?” she asked. She could feel the way her voice grew shaky as she spoke, but she didn't feel like caring about it.

Only silence replied to her as the doctors clearly hesitated. Somehow, that was even more terrifying to her.

—

Bombsight found her afterward while she sat alone outside the medical wing. Her makeup was still a mess, it was pretty obvious that she had been crying. The mascara was smudged just below her eyes.

He immediately crouched in front of her, his hand moving directly to her knee, massaging it in a comforting manner. The gesture became almost automatic after the first time he did it.

“What happened ?”

She tried smiling at him but it failed directly. She felt unable to fake happiness this time.

“They say my body is not adapting properly to compound V,” she admitted as she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Every time I use my powers, it hurts me.”

Speaking it aloud felt even worse, because it made everything real. Things were only starting to look good and she wouldn't even be able to truly enjoy it.

“What do you mean it hurts you?” he asked in a worried tone.

“They say that I have pulmonary damage. But it's not only that, it attacks all of my organs too.”

For a second, his face turned blank. He couldn't even hide behind his smirk or sarcasm. He only felt stunned anger.

“And they still got you filming? They still got you doing their stupid events ?”

She didn't even answer him, but it was enough to answer his questions. He couldn't stand still anymore, standing up abruptly. He started muttering as he paced around the room.

“Those goddamn—”

“Robbie.”

She called out softly and her voice was enough to stop him instantly. The look on his face was hurting her even more than admitting that she was dying.

Because for the first time, someone truly cared about her but she didn't even have enough time with him.

Slowly, he crouched down in front of her again and stayed silent for a while until she admitted softly : “I'm scared.”

Her confession was only a whisper but it was enough for him to look down at his hand that moved to rest near her hand.

“Yeah.” he answered quietly.

He couldn't even reassure her because he was just as scared. But still, an idea formed in his mind.

—

After that day, something shifted, as if the distance they tried to maintain was slowly disappearing.

He was always close to her, whether during filming, interviews or even galas. It was as if he parted from her, she would disappear.

Some would call it hovering but she didn't care. She allowed him to.

Because if she died, at least, she would have enjoyed his presence as much as possible.

—

A few days later, during a rainy evening, filming ended up late. Most of the crew had already gone home, wanting to avoid the storm that was brewing outside.

Ever since she earned her power, the sound of thunder became weirdly calming.

She sat wrapped in Bombsight’s leather jacket. Once again, she was sitting on the porch of one of the fake houses, the script for tomorrow laying forgotten on her laps.

She was watching Bombsight as he leaned against an artificial streetlight, smoking while he also listened to the sound of rain hammering against the roof of the studio.

“Aren't you tired of staring ?” He asked her suddenly, not even turning to look back at her.

At his words, she could feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t staring.” she quickly defended herself. She knew that she answered way too fast but she didn't care.

“Sure.”

An amused smirk stretched his lips while she rolled her eyes. Silence settled between them once again, but it didn't need to be filled, it was comfortable.

Eventually, he turned his head to look at her. His gaze was soft but also full of worry for her.

“You should be home resting.”

“You should too,” she countered. Since that night when she saw him taking those pills, she made the vow to stay on set until he left, so at least, he wouldn't take some under her watch.

“The difference is I’m not the one coughing blood after moving air around all day.”

Her expression crumpled directly at his words, making him mutter a curse as he regretted his words as soon they left his mouth.

“Chiara–”

“No, you’re right.” she said softly, her voice shaky. It always hurts to hear that, no matter how true it was.

“I think I'm dying a little,” she finally added in a whisper, playing with her fingers. A nervous gesture she gained through the years.

That confession was enough to have him moving. He crushed the butt of the cigarette under his foot before crossing the set in long strides, stopping directly in front of her. He was now so close that she has to tilt her head up to meet his gaze with her own.

“You listen to me,” he said, voice low but rough. “You are not dying.”

“But you know what the doctors said–”

“You're not,” he said, truly believing his own words. He had a plan but he couldn't tell her anything yet, even if he was itching to spill everything.

Slowly, he lifted his hand, giving her time to pull away if she wished to. When she didn't try to move away, his warm and calloused fingers brushed beneath her chin. The touch was gentle though as he tilted her face up.

Neither of them moved though, even if her powers reacted directly to the proximity. A warm wind swirling between both of them.

His eyes darkened as they flicked down to her lips. “Christ,” he murmured, his voice rough with months of restraint and longing.

Then, he finally kissed her. It wasn't soft or hesitant but deep and urgent as if a dam finally broke. His lips were firm and warm against hers, she could still taste and smell the cigarette that he just smoked.

His hand stayed cupped beneath her chin while the other slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until her body was flushed against his chest.

Her breath hitched against his mouth. One of her hands fisted in the front of his buttoned shirt, anchoring herself while the kiss almost overwhelmed her.

She could feel how his stubble scraped against her skin while his tongue brushed against her lower lip. Instinctively, she parted her lips for him as he took this opportunity to deepen the kiss that became even more consuming.

The wind that was already swirling around them grew stronger. Making papers scatter around and the lights swaying overhead.

Yet, as soon as his thumb stroked her jaw tenderly, the wind stopped. Once again, he was able to calm her without even doing much.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. Both of their lips were swollen and tingling but they couldn't hold back the smile stretching their lips as they stared at each other.

Bombsight rested his forehead against hers, their eyes closing for a moment.

“Well… I guess we crossed a new line,” he said, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. She couldn't even her own shaky laugh that escaped her in return.

This new feeling was overwhelming but before she could truly overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him this time.

—

That night, after they left the set, she followed him back to his apartment. They had some quiet agreement that both didn't want to be alone tonight, and their first kiss didn't help that.

Once inside, she lingered near the doorway while he tossed his keys onto the counter.

She took in the inside of his apartment. Just like hers, it was provided by Vought so their layout was the same. But his apartment was a little messier, with records stacked near a record player and an empty coffee mug near his leather couch.

There were also posters of his last two movies hanging on the wall. There were some photos of his time at the army and with his parents but his voice took her out of her thoughts.

“Coffee ?” He offered her with a smile.

“At midnight ?” She replied in an amused tone as she followed him into the small kitchen, leaning against the counter.

“I could offer you something else,” he finally suggested. His tone and his smirk were enough to depict what he was hinting at.

“And what is that ?” She replied playfully, not moving away as he slowly stepped closer, giving her every chance to step away.

Once his hands settled on her waist, his palms warm through her dress, her breath hitched slightly. Those touches were still new but she already craved more of those.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low. As if he didn't want anyone to hear them even if they were alone.

She simply nodded before leaning and pressing her lips against his, she wasn't used to initiating but tonight, she didn't care.

The kiss was soft at first but quickly deepened with need. His response was just as hungry as he pulled her closer.

His hand slid to her back, slowly unbuttoning her dress between kisses. Once her dress crumpled to her feet, then his lips moved down to her neck, to her collarbone and to the swell of her breast while he unfastened her bra.

When she reached for his shirt, she could feel her fingers trembling. As soon as he noticed this, he helped her by guiding her hands over his chest to let her explore at her own pace.

“Come on,” he murmured against her skin before guiding her to his bedroom.

She had no time to take in the new space as he laid her down on the bed, settling between her parted thighs. His hands and mouth stayed gentle but he mapped every inch of her skin as he kissed his way down her body.

When his mouth wrapped around her left nipple, a soft whimper escaped her parted lips at the sensation. Moans followed when he kept his attention on her breasts until her nipples hardened.

Then his fingers made their way between her legs as he pulled her panties to the side. When his index made contact with her slick heat, her hips bucked instinctively at the touch while she gasped.

“Tell me if anything feels too much,” he murmured against her skin, looking up to meet her gaze with his own.

“I promise,” she simply whispered as a reassurance, it was quickly followed by a shaky moan when he inserted his fingers inside her.

It was obvious that he was experienced with the way he kept rubbing a spot inside her that she never reached before by herself but that felt way too good.

She could already feel herself getting close and by judging the smirk on his face, he could feel it too.

“Come on… let go,” he murmured against her skin before nipping it.

She had no idea why her body complied so easily but attributed it to her feelings for him and the way he seemed to clearly know what he was doing.

A moan escaped her lips as she climaxed for the first time that night. Unable to keep her eyes open as she did so, she closed them as she allowed the pleasure to wash over her.

He helped her ride it over by continuing his ministrations until he could feel her orgasm dying down, until she stopped milking his fingers.

Then, he removed his fingers from inside her, crawling up to press his lips against hers.

Her hands fumbled to push off his pants and boxers together.

“We can stop anytime,” he murmured against her lips but she only shook her head at his words. “You say the word.”

She pulled him closer instead. “I want this, Robbie. I want you.”

Hearing her words, he positioned himself at her entrance before slowly easing into her. The sharp sting of it made her breath hitch while her nails dug into his back.

That feeling made him still inside her almost immediately. Once again, he kissed her while murmuring words of encouragement against her lips.

“You're doing so good,” he kept repeating until the discomfort eased into a pleasurable ache. “So perfect.”

He began to move only once she relaxed with a slow and deep rhythm. The pleasure built once again gradually with every thrust and every rub of his thumb against her clit.

The entire time, the rhythm stayed unhurried. Eventually, she wrapped her legs around him to pull him deeper as the pleasure got slowly more and more overwhelming.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, even if it was only minutes, her second climax washed over her, still sensitive from her previous one. It triggered his own as hips stilled against hers, his cum painting her insides.

She couldn't find it in herself to care about the possible consequences with the way he groaned her name before kissing her.

–

Afterward, they laid tangled together under his bedsheets. Their damp skin slowly cooling down while they were catching their breaths.

Robbie couldn't stop touching her, his palm massaging her back like he needed it to reassure himself that she was still there with him. That she was still breathing.

For the first time since she earned her powers, they were completely still. It felt nice for a change.

After a long silence he pressed a kiss against her hair and whispered : “I love you, y'know.”

It seemed that he was surprised by his own words when she looked up and saw his slightly widened eyes and his pink cheeks.

Still, Chiara's heartbeat fastened as she couldn't help but feel slightly dizzy.

“I love you too,” she murmured before pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss that he returned.

pt 2 of dream a little dream of me

summary : after the first commercial, everything starts to change between chiara and bombsight as they learn more and more about each other

pairing : fem! self ship x bombsight (robbie)

warnings : 50s misogyny, objectification of women, toxic family and soldier boy is a warning in himself

The next commercials were slowly becoming easier to film. They served as the perfect practice for her even if she still stumbled over her marks and forgot some lines from time to time.

But Vought seemed pleased by her. They were putting so much importance on performances and were slick enough to put a good pr on a few mistakes, even the bigger ones.

To her, only bombsight seemed genuine, if she based her thoughts on him on their first encounter during that commercial. .

Maybe it was because she didn't meet the other supes yet but deep down, she knew that it wasn't the sole reason.

The words he spoke to her, the way he was truly seeing her impacted her more than she would have thought. She blamed it on the fact that he was the first person who saw her for who she really was.

Not a product. Not a failure. Not a bad daughter.

After this day, she couldn't help but notice him constantly. She was always on the lookout for him, always searching for his leather jacket whenever she was walking around the Vought's headquarters.

She didn't dare to put a name on what she was feeling yet because in all honesty, she didn't even know what those feelings truly were.

—

The current commercial set looked like a suburban street once again. At this rate, she was starting to doubt that Vought owned different sets.

She was assigned to work with Bombsight once again. The mere thought made her stomach twist, especially since they were now playing husband and wife.

“Places !” The director's voice shook her out of her thoughts, taking her right back to where she was, in the front yard of their fake family house. 

She was making float a few glasses of lemonade that she was bringing to Bombsight as he was standing near a fake telephone pole that he was supposed to repair.

“Miss your mark one time and we will restart the whole sequence, Windfall.”

Just those words were enough to both annoy Chiara and make her nervous. No matter how much she was getting used to filming, she still wanted to please Vought, to please the director.

Her annoyance did flicker through a little when the overhead lights flickered. Not enough to truly worry the crew members but enough to be noticed by Bombsight.

His gaze flickered directly toward her, studying her to make sure everything was alright (and that a storm wasn't going to destroy the entire set).

The annoyed gaze from the director didn't waver and before he could bark another reproach to her, he was interrupted.

“Bark at her again and I'm pretty sure you're going to lose a few cameras this time,” Bombsight drawled. The director was annoying him already and the filming only started.

Right behind him, stood Chiara who stared around in embarrassment. Unsure how to feel in the middle of this situation.

“It's alright,” she quickly said, her gaze darting between Bombsight and the director. “I can do it.”

“Yeah, I know,” the other supe replied to her, his words catching her off guard.

“Just breathe before they blow a gasket,” he murmured to her playfully, leaning in slightly so they wouldn't overhear him.

A small giggle escaped her lips at his words, her hands moving to cover her mouth and muffle the sound.

It was his time to be confused by his own feelings brought by her laughter.

—

Rest wasn't an option after filming, both were brought by Vought to a military fundraising gala downtown aka her very first official social event.

She remembered how gala events always looked magical in the films she watched as a little girl. The women were wearing elegant gowns while orchestras played on stage. She imagined movie stars descending staircases while receiving praises and looks of awe.

But reality was different when both her and Bombsight were forced to keep their costumes. After all, their costumes were what they embodied and without it, they would be nothing. Well, according to Vought.

In her opinion, Bombsight had it easy. His costume was identical to the ones worn by the combat pilots in the U.S. Armed Forces. It was meant to show in which faction he belonged to during the war, before becoming a supe.

Her costume was worse, way worse. The pale blue bodice hugged her waist so tightly that breathing became a challenge, and the sweetheart neckline of her costume dipped way too low in her opinion. She had to resist the constant urge of tugging it higher. The skirt stopped short and she had to keep tugging on it to feel, at least, a little comfortable. In her opinion, she was wearing something that came out of a pinup calendar. She didn’t feel like a supe at all.

The golden clouds embroidered on the cape were shimmering beneath the ballroom lights. It was beautiful but also completely humiliating.

This entire outfit made her feel displayed like some sort of toy and the men at the gala clearly agreed. She could feel the way their stares lingered, the way military officers lingered too long when she passed and the way older politicians were openly glancing down her body mid-conversation with a smile that made her skin crawl. 

One senator even placed his hand right on the spot where the skin of her back was bared while complimenting her “figure.” At this moment, she could feel her powers crawling under her skin, ready to summon a gust of wind directly into his face. Yet, she bit her cheek until she tasted blood to hold herself back. 

By the time they passed both the photographers and the journalists, her nerves felt frayed raw. The blinding flashbulbs that kept exploding didn’t help at all while she could only smile at everyone. 

She barely remembered the questions asked and the answers she replied. To be honest, she didn’t really care because every word she spoke tonight sounded artificial. It didn't feel like herself at all. 

Eventually, a few hours later, she managed to escape towards the refreshments table when the Vought handler that had been by her side the whole night ended up caught in a discussion with a businessman. She received no answers when she told him that she was going to get some champagne. 

Once there, she exhaled shakily while leaning against the wall, trying to fight off the knot that was forming inside her throat the whole night.

“That bad?” Bombsight’s voice startled her as he now stood beside her, appearing out of nowhere and holding two champagne glasses. She was so focused on calming herself down that she hadn’t even seen him approach. 

“I’m alright,” she replied automatically. She knew that it was an obvious lie and he definitely knew about it when his gaze lingered on her for a second before drifting across the ballroom and toward the men still staring at her. At this, annoyance flickered briefly across his face. 

“Sure you are,” he muttered. His tone made her glance at him properly. He didn't sound teasing, he sounded annoyed and protective. As if he was ready to throw a businessman through a wall if the older man opened his mouth.

Instead, he handed her one of the champagne glasses that he intentionally grabbed for her. 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He shrugged casually, but his eyes flickered towards the way her fingers were once again tugging down the edge of her skirt. Something she did constantly tonight. At this thought, his jaw tightened.

“They got you dressed like a goddamn calendar girl,” he said flatly.

“I didn’t choose it.” she replied while heat rushed into her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“I know.”

Something about his answer made her chest ache. He said it without hesitation and without blame. It was almost like he was angry on her behalf but she had a hard time believing that. After all, they barely knew each other, there was no way he would get protective and attached to a rookie like her who kept messing everything up.

Before she could respond, Bombsight glanced once more toward a group of military officials openly staring nearby. His expression darkened at that.

Then, with visible annoyance, he shrugged off his brown leather flight jacket where his name was embroidered on the back. It made her blink in clear confusion, trying to understand what he was doing.

“What are you doing?”

“Put it on.”

“What?”

“Unless you enjoy half this ballroom starin’ at you like starving dogs.”

She couldn’t even process his words or how her breath hitched at because he was already draping it around her shoulders, preventing her from trying to protest.

The jacket swallowed her almost entirely. It smelt like heavy leather, smoke and cologne. It smelled like him and in a way, it was comforting. 

“There,” he muttered as he adjusted the collar once before stepping back. “That’s better.”

Something fluttered violently inside her chest but she was unable to focus on it while she was drowning in his scent and under his understanding gaze.

—

The next morning, as she returned to her brand new apartment offered by Vought, she found flowers waiting outside her door. Her brows furrowed as she crouched to search for a note tucked between the roses. 

One she found it, in a familiar handwriting, she could read : 

“We saw your billboard in Times Square. We’re proud of you. Call us.

Love, Mama & Papa”

She stared blankly at the note for a few seconds. She remembered her sixteenth birthday when her father told her that actresses always ended up lonely or disgraced when she dared to express her dream.

Or when her mother laughed after she got rejected from a theater production while telling her to “grow up” already. That she was still a foolish kid. 

But ever since Vought checks arrived every month and that her face was printed on magazines and posters. They suddenly became proud and loving parents. 

The flowers ended up in the trash as soon as she stepped inside her apartment. 

—

Her career was growing as organically as possible when she was literally Vought’s new products because a few months later, she was invited to the premiere of private’s angel new movie. 

The photographers delayed her entrance from the theater by nearly forty minutes, drowning her in constant flashes. Surprisingly, she was allowed to wear a blue and gold satin dress for this event. But she didn’t think too much of it, at least she received less hungry stares.

By the time she entered the theater, almost every seat was occupied. Well, except the one beside Bombsight. 

He was sprawled comfortably in his chair; way too casual for someone who was wearing a tailored navy suit worth more than the apartment she grew up in and that appeared on almost every ad sponsored by Vought.

She stopped beside him, sending him a confused look. “You saved me a seat?”

“Nah,” he replied immediately as if it wasn’t an obvious lie. “Nobody else wanted it.”

She scoffed in amusement as she sat down beside him, not noticing the way he looked at her or the way that the producer sitting in the row behind them looked deeply offended, as if Bombsight just cursed his entire bloodline.

Halfway through the film, Chiara ended up leaning slightly toward him. “You threatened somebody for this seat, didn’t you?” she murmured, not wanting to disturb the audience that was clearly focused on the movie playing. 

“I threatened lots of people today,” he murmured back.

A small laugh escaped her lips before she could prevent it. She didn’t care about the people hushing around her, she only cared about the way the sound made him glance sideways at her. 

And for some reason, they exchanged sideways glances and amused smiles the entire night as they completely forgot about the movie in front of them.

—

Eventually, staying late together on set became their new normal. They told themselves that it wasn’t intentional, that it just kept happening but they both knew the truth. 

Around them, the crew would dismantle sets while they lingered nearby, sharing their thoughts about almost everything that crossed their minds. Those moments felt real, and it was necessary to stay sane when you end up working for Vought. 

One night, they remained on set long after filming wrapped, the crew not having enough power to fire two of Vought’s coveted heroes from their workplace. And it was not like they were destroying the set, they were just talking. 

Half of the artificial suburban street had already been dismantled but this now usual scenery held some kind of comfort for her because she knew that she would always share this type of commercial with Bombsight.

Chiara sat cross-legged on the stairs of the porch of a pale yellow wooden house while he was leaned against the railing of the stairs, on her left, smoking lazily as the smoke curled upwards. 

“You ever think about quittin’?” he asked suddenly. The sudden question surprised her, she didn’t think he would even breach that subject with her during their talks.

“Acting?” she asked to make sure that she did understand his question. 

“This whole place.”

Her gaze ended up drifting across the dismantled set around them. He was talking about Vought and the fake happiness, the fake America they were selling to every citizen. Then, slowly, she shook her head.

“I can’t. Because if I fail now, they were right about me. About how I’m made for failure”

Bombsight frowned slightly. “Who?”

“My parents.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue. It was normal, she guessed, after all she knew that parents were supposed to be encouraging and loving but she ended up having no luck in that department.

“My father used to leave newspapers open whenever actresses got divorced,” she admitted quietly. “He was telling me that it is what happens to women who chase attention with their silly dreams.”

Bombsight stayed silent, it seemed like he understood that it was something that deeply affected her§

“My mother said acting was embarrassing after a certain age,” she continued with a slight tremble in her voice. “Said eventually I’d stop marry somebody sensible to start a family, that it was what I should do.”

A breeze shifted unconsciously around her, her hurt at those memories manifesting once again due to her powers.

“But now I get money from Vought and now I am suddenly their little star. Suddenly they always believed in me.”

For a long moment, he said nothing as he tried to process everything and not hurt her feelings more by speaking carelessly. Then he finally muttered: “That’s a hell of a thing to do to your kid.”

Something tightened in her chest at his words, after all, it was the first time someone acknowledged what she went through and didn’t diminish it. 

—

It seemed that a few nights later, it was her turn to learn something new about Bombsight, or Robbie like he asked her to call him. 

That night, she forgot her gloves inside the soundstage after filming and only returned when everyone was supposed to already be home. At first glance, the studio seemed empty but movement near the lodges caught her attention.

She knew that she should just leave with her gloves and leave some intimacy to that person but something inside her told her that it was not the right choice to do. 

So, she tried to walk as sneakily as possible and stopped near Robbie’s opened lodge. He sat alone beneath the soft lights of the lodge, exhaustion clearly visible from her spot. It seemed like he didn’t even notice her.

She watched him tilt two small white pills into his palm before swallowing them dry with cold coffee.her nose scrunched instinctively at the thought of the cold coffee taste but the sight clearly made her worry.

It looked like he did this before, and many times at that. 

When he realized that she was there a few seconds later, he stiffened but he hid it with his usual smirk. Slowly, she learned to read behind that smirk but tonight, she felt a little clueless. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said lightly as if she didn’t walk on him seemingly taking drugs.

Chiara hesitated near the doorway. She was unsure how to proceed, after all she never dealt with drugs directly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m dying.” He leaned back in the chair lazily. “Docs give half the team these things. Keeps us awake.”

The casualness of it was unsettling. She could see how tired he truly was yet he was acting like it was all fine and she had no idea how to help him without losing the only person that truly seemed to see her. 

“You should sleep instead,” she said quietly.

That earned a soft laugh from him. He didn’t seem offended, instead, it looked like he simply accepted his fate. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you think Vought lets people like us sleep?”

For once, the petname didn’t make her heart flutter but twist her hearts in concern. His words lingering with her even when she laid in bed hours later.

—

Today was the day. She was officially meeting another member from Bombsight’s team. And it wasn’t anyone, it was Soldier Boy aka the leader and Vought’s golden child. 

She remembered how much her friends gushed about him whenever he appeared in the newspapers, in movies and even in his advertisements. Of course, she found him attractive, she had eyes after all. But weirdly, she never felt compelled to crush on the man.

Maybe it was because he was too unattainable or that her brain didn’t have enough space to think about men when she had too many things to worry about at that time.

But now that she was about to face him, she felt nervous, just like when she was about to meet Bombsight for the first time on her first commercial.

She observed the new supe when he entered the room like it belonged to him, as if everything here revolved around him. Which it kinda did. Everyone straightened whenever he walked past them, even the members of his own team. 

But Bombsight was the only one who looked more irritated than anything. 

In front of him, she could understand why her friends gushed so much about him. He was handsome but he was also charismatic. She couldn’t deny that. And he was aware of his own appeal; 

“Well, hell,” Soldier Boy drawled after spotting her standing a little awkwardly near the conference table. “So this is the new sweetheart everybody keeps talkin’ about.”

She straightened instinctively when he approached. Up close, he was intimidating and clearly scary to her. She didn’t even dare to frown in his direction. 

He took her hand before she could react and pressed a theatrical kiss against her knuckles. She cursed herself internally when she blushed, she hated being the center of attention right now, in this room full of supes and Vought executives.

“Windfall, right?”

“Yes, sir.” she replied quickly, not wanting to mess up in front of everyone;

“Aw,” he grinned. “She’s polite too.”

Across the room, Bombsight looked unimpressed and a little irritated, if one could tell by the scowl etched onto his face. And unfortunately for him, Soldier boy noticed it, an amused smile curling up his lips at the sight. 

“You been takin’ good care of her, Bombsight?” Soldier Boy asked casually while still looking at the woman in front of him.

Robbie crossed his arms, holding himself back from doing anything rash when he saw the way the other man interacted with Windfall, how he talked about her. “She ain’t a dog.”

“Touchy.”

It was obvious to everyone that the tension between them wasn’t anything new. It had been there for years but her presence seemed to fuel it. 

Soldier Boy finally released her hand but stayed standing slightly too close for both her liking and for Bombsight’s too. 

“You know,” he said lightly, “you’re prettier than your posters.”

Before she could even react to the flirty words, Robbie reacted instantly from across the room. “Jesus Christ.”

“What?” Soldier Boy asked innocently. “I’m bein’ friendly.”

“You’re bein’ a pain in my ass.”

At this, the other supe barked out a laugh. Yet, she could only focus on the man across the room as it dawned on her that he was jealous.

—

One evening, after another gala, she slipped away onto a balcony for air. She got used to it after her first one, months ago.

She felt more at ease, more comfortable in her own skin.

New York was beautiful from up here but the sight wasn't the reason why she escaped.

The reason why was already there, leaning against the railing with an unfinished cigarette between his fingers.

The wind was tugging at his blond strands that were usually brushed to perfection.

He looked tired tonight and his smirk wasn't good enough to hide it.

She moved beside him, leaning too against the railing and for a moment both stayed silent.

Then she looked at him, taking in his profile.

“You know,” she said softly, “I never liked Soldier Boy that much.”

That earned a snort from him as if he didn't believe her.

“That makes one of us.”

“No,” she corrected quietly. “I mean I never understood why everyone is gushing on him like he is the only supe, as if he doesn't have teammates.”

Silence settled once again between them but it wasn't an awkward one. It didn't need to be filled.

Bombsight slowly turned toward her and for the first time since she met him, since she got to know him, a vulnerable look crossed his face.

This time he knew that she was also truly seeing him too, just like he was seeing her since the beginning.

summary : when an aspiring actress stumble on a newspaper advertisement by Vought, she knows it's her last chance to achieve her dream and become an actress. But the advertisement never mentioned anything about powers or end up being paired with bombsight.

pairing : fem!self ship x bombsight (robbie)

warnings : not much apart 50s misogyny, bad parents and some physical pain because of the compound v

notes : this self insert series come from me and my friends in the reggie's groupchat on twitter so it is mainly from them but feel free to read it. Also first post ever here, very scary methinks.

New York, 1952

The first thing that could be noticed about the Vought waiting room was how quiet it was. 

Almost every chair were occupied by young men and young women beneath enormous patriotic posters. On every poster were the faces of soldier boy, bombsight, private angel, torpedo, private angel and liberty accompanied by the words “America needs more heroes”.

Some of the candidates wore expensive dresses while others looked like they had spent their very last dollars on their clothes. The secretaries were moving across the rooms to accompany the candidates to the audition room.

Chiara's nose kept scrunching at the heavy scent of smoke while she smoothed invisible wrinkles from her skirt. It was a nervous habit of hers.

If her mother was here, she would probably slap her hand away and tell her how no one would cast her if she kept fidgeting. The mere memory of her family made her stomach twist.

She didn't tell them the real reason why she came to New York for this audition. The newspaper advertisement promised acting opportunities but everyone knew what they were truly searching : more supes after the success of V1. 

And Chiara needed work. Small theater roles weren't enough to pay rent, forcing her to work as a waitress in a local diner. And every audition went bad : she was too soft-spoken, too nervous and not memorable enough.

But with this, she could prove to her family that her dreams were reachable. That she could do it.

A few minutes later, a woman in a gray pencil skirt stepped into the room holding a brown clipboard.

“Chiara Adami ?” 

Her name being called made her stand up, stumbling a little as she did so. Meanwhile, the secretary looked over at her, approval flickered across her expression when she noticed the long blonde curls, the blue eyes and her soft makeup.

“Right this way.”

—

The audition room didn't really look like the usual ones she saw in the past. There was only a camera, a spotlight and a single chair in the middle.

In front of it was an observation glass where many men in white coats stood behind. It was easy to see that it wasn't about acting.

She quickly moved to the chair where a Vought executive asked her to sit.

“Miss Adami,” he said, “we’d like you to start by reading page three.”

As she took the script, her hands were trembling slightly, even fumbling a little as she opened it to page three.

The scenario was simple : a wartime housewife thanking Soldier boy for keeping the country safe.

At first, she started reading out loud with a slightly shaky voice but a few lines later her voice grew stronger. 

At the end, the room stayed silent for a few minutes. That made her anxious once again. She wondered if she did badly because in her own opinion, she wasn't that bad at acting.

Then murmurs could be heard through the glass. “Good camera face but her voice needs coaching,” said an executive while the other nodded.

Another voice then spoke up, “turn around for me, sweetheart.” The words made her gag inside but she obeyed. It felt humiliating the way those men spoke during her auditions.

Humiliation turned to confusion when strange questions followed. They asked her if she considered herself emotional, if her family had a medical history or even how she reacted under pressure.

Unease pooled in her stomach but she still replied carefully. And once again, the room turned silent.

Minutes later, a door creaked open. At the sound, she turned to see a doctor entering the room, carrying a small metal case.

Chiara's heartbeat quickened while she glanced warily at the metal case.

Yet, she didn't dare to speak up as she had no idea what was going to happen next. Then, she met the doctor's gaze as he smiled warmly at her, but it wasn't comforting in any way.

The man opened the metal case. Inside rested a syringe filled with glowing blue liquid. She stared at it with wide eyes, unease coming back stronger as if her body sensed how dangerous it was.

“You’re familiar with Compound V?” he asked.

“Everyone in America is familiar with Compound V sir,” she replied politely, unaware that in the next decades, it would become a secret.

“But I thought that it was only for military subjects,” she added, noticing the amused glances exchanged by the executives as if she said something silly.

“Times are changing,” he replied simply. The way he talked made it sound like he was discussing laboratory animals, not humans. Her instincts screamed at her to run once again, to go back to her bed and forget about Vought.

But then she thought about : the unpaid rent letter still laying on her table, her father calling her dreams childish, her mother's eyes rolling when she was rejected after every audition.

She couldn't go back to waitressing, to being a nobody that would end up marrying a man that she didn't love. She didn't want that life, not at all. She didn’t want to end up just like her mother, she had to break that cycle before she could repeat it.

The executive must have noticed the hesitation. Because his posture softened immediately while his smile turned almost predatory, he knew she was about to give in.

“Miss Adami…You have extraordinary potential.”

And it worked on her, she felt foolish for that but it worked. She allowed the nurse that just entered the room to strap her wrist to the chair.

The nurse was the only comforting face here as she moved to roll up the sleeve of her blouse while the doctor adjusted the camera lens toward her face.

It was how she realized that she was a mere study; if that failed, she would only end up becoming a lesson for the next candidate. Then her gaze drifted once again to the syringe held up by the doctor.

“You may experience discomfort,” he warned as if it wasn't the understatement of the year but she still nodded.

She could feel the needle sliding into her arm. Weirdly it felt cold and quickly, that cold was spreading in her entire body, the cold flooding every nerve in her body at once.

Pain quickly followed as if a pressure was crushing her organs. The doctor's voices were muffled as she squirmed in pain, she couldn't even hear her own screams of pain.

Then, the air changed. Every paper in the room flew off the table violently, the observation window started rattling as if it might break at any moment.

Chiara squirmed again as wind exploded outward from her body, the camera ending up flying against the wall and shattering.

Once again, the air switched, the room suddenly lacking oxygen while pressure kept building inside her.

It was both terrifying and painful. She could feel something moving beneath her skin as if the liquid was alive.

The only thing she could understand was that the doctors’ voices now sounded alarmed but still muffled.

Then, just as suddenly the pain started, everything stopped. Every floating paper drifted to the ground while the air pressure went back to normal. But the room was a mess, as if a tornado ruined it.

In the middle of it, Chiara was still strapped to the chair, trembling and sobbing. She could feel the stares, it made her want to shrink or simply pass out.

Then one executive spoke, “My God,” in an amazed tone. She then realized the stares weren't in anger but in disbelief.

“She’s regulating the atmosphere itself…” said a doctor who went to hide behind the glass. 

“What are we classifying this as?” asked the youngest executive to the older one in the room. The older man held a triumphant smile on his face at the sight of another success.

“Marketable,” he then said.

—

Three weeks later, she was renamed Windfall by Vought. Then, the costume fittings followed. But so did the voice coaching, the camera training and the media coaching.

It seemed like they didn't care about her powers. This confused her, they needed another supe yet didn't care about what made her a supe. Wasn't she supposed to help America ? Yet, she didn't dare to ask, the paycheck was enough to keep her mouth shut.

At least, doctors were still monitoring her powers. But it didn't feel that reassuring when she was told that her powers were directly related to her emotional state, they could grow violent under stress. 

Vought ignored that entirely. They didn't care that she could cause disasters, they cared about her public appeal and the money it would bring.

The first time she saw her face on a promotional poster, she felt shocked. She never imagined seeing herself on a poster but now here she was. A feeling of pride then bloomed in her chest, her dreams were coming true, even if it was in a bit of a twisted way.

That same day, her little cloud of happiness was popped by Vought. It wasn’t because she received bad news.

In fact, that was excellent news but the mere thought of it made her anxious. She was going to film her first commercial alongside bombsight.

THE bombsight.

—

The set looked like the picture perfect suburban dream. But it also looked like it was made by someone who never lived out of New York.

Picket white fences, green lawns that were way too green and extras that smiled too much. The blue sky also looked way too fake and the fake sun was almost blinding.

Crew members ran around the set, carrying cables and props while directors screamed through their megaphones.

Yet, Chiara couldn't really focus on it as she stood near the edge of the set clutching her cue cards way too tightly.

Her costume felt too tight. To be honest, she still wasn't used to the way it hugged her waist, she never wore pinup like clothes in the past.

Finally, she focused when she noticed that everyone on set straightened. The air around her felt heavier, it was like a physical pressure on her shoulders. 

It meant one thing : Bombsight arrived. 

Her gaze easily found him as he walked confidently onto set, wearing his leather brown jacket, his navy gloves were tucked beneath one arm while makeup artists chased him to fix his makeup even though he already looked perfect.

He was intimidating because compared to her, he looked completely at ease there. He looked made to be in front of cameras, and she wasn't so sure if she was made for this.

One executive hurried over immediately. “Bombsight! Wonderful. You’ll be paired with Windfall today.”

At this, he glanced towards her briefly. It was short, but enough for her to forget how to breathe.

The executive continued enthusiastically as he didn't notice the way the two stared at each other for a quick moment.

“The audiences are going to love this dynamic. War hero meets girl-next-door optimism.”

Bombsight simply hummed, sounding completely uninterested while Chiara only thought about how she wanted to disappear.

—

The filming was awful. There were no other words needed to describe how it was currently going.

The first shot was simple, Chiara only needed to walk down the sidewalk, the grocery bags suspended in the air with her powers while she smiled brightly but the moment cameras rolled, she forgot half her lines.

“Cut.” the director sighed loudly as if she was the biggest burden during his entire career.

For the second attempt, the floating paper bag slammed directly into a fake mailbox. The content of the bag flying out.

“Cut.”

At each attempt, her face kept burning hotter and hotter while the executives started getting more and more demanding.

They told her how she should be less stiff, more charming and more natural. It made her even more nervous and the air sensed it.

By the fifth take, the curtains started to flutter violently even though the entire studio was closed. Her power directly worried the crew members, scared to see one of their cameras flying off and being broken.

On another part of the set, Bombsight shot his entrance. While the fake rocket descended via wires, at the same time many alarms blared across the set.

On cue, he launched upward and landed perfectly beside her in an effortless manner. The proximity and awe was enough for Chiara to completely miss her next line.

“Not with Bombsight around,” the small voice of the child actress next to her was enough to get her out of her stupor.

She blinked as horror was slowly overtaking her brain. Once again, she made a mistake and she already imagined how Vought would fire her for being such a bad actress.

She could only think about how they wasted their previous Compound V on her.

Meanwhile, Bombsight glanced sideways when she still didn't speak her line, and in one look, he understood what was happening.

He could hear how almost everyone was talking, their voices overlapping. It was her first shoot and they were already putting too much pressure on her. It was a wonder how she didn't break down yet.

They were all saying that she needed more confidence but he truly doubted that those were the words she needed to hear right now.

“Maybe everybody quit yappin’ at her for five seconds.” He said, finally speaking up.

His voice silenced everyone while new co-star stared at him with wide eyes. After all, she surely expected him to get mad at her for making this shoot longer than it was supposed to.

“We're simply trying to help,” an executive said with a strained laugh. Clearly, he didn't want to get on the bad side of someone who could rip him apart in seconds.

“Looks more like you’re trying to scare her to death.”

With that, he walked over to Chiara, lowering his voice so the Vought employees around them wouldn't overhear.

“You know the lines ?” He asked, yet his tone held no judgments because he already knew the answer. She confirmed his thoughts when she nodded quickly. 

“Then forget everybody else.” he added as he casually adjusted the crooked bow at her collar that held her cape. It was made in translucent layers of fabric and embroidered with golden cloud patterns.

“Just talk.”

She didn't understand why, but thanks to him, something in her chest loosened and breathing started to become easier for her.

Maybe it was his words or the way he looked at her like she was a real person and not the product that was getting shaped by Vought.

She realized that it was because he was the first person to truly understand her. He went through the same thing, after all.

They started shooting again and surprisingly, the next takes went way better. The commercial was finally looking like something structured and not like the mess it was previously.

She was now walking through the streets, her floating groceries following her while humming a cheerful tone. Bombsight then landed beside as the fake enemy rocket flew overhead. They then saved the city just as dramatically.

For the final shot, the child actress looked up at the two heroes in awe and asked in wonder “Miss Windfall, aren't you scared ?”

Instinctively, she turned her head to look at the man standing next to her. The smile that stretched her lips wasn't an act, it was genuine.

“Not with Bombsight around.”

On cue, he smirked towards the camera lens that was focused on them while he rubbed his neck as if he truly was getting by her attention.

“Aw, shucks,” he said good-naturedly.

It was needless to say that executives loved this take. The smiles on their faces were enough to finally make Chiara relax completely.

But it seemed like the whole universe decided to rally against her because while everyone started to arrange the set, one assistant dropped a heavy lighting stand.

The crashing sound made her jump violently, taking her by surprise. Of course, her powers followed directly as wind bursted onto the set.

Scripts flew everywhere while the curtains were literally ripped away from the fake houses. A cameraman tripped over the cables on the ground as he tried to run away.

“I'm sorry,” she kept mumbling in pure panic. Her own powers were acting up and yet she felt completely helpless. In a way, she felt even more vulnerable now that she was a supe.

While almost everyone on set backed away from her, Bombsight did the opposite. He went toward her, not caring about how strong the wind was, about how his hair looked like a pure mess now and that the wind kept tearing at his leather coat.

When he finally stood in front of her, she could only send him a helpless look. Her own powers weren't listening to her and she didn't know how to control it. 

“I can't stop it,” she murmured in a shaky tone while anxiety clawed at her chest.

“Yeah, you can,” he replied. Compared to her, his voice was calm. The difference between them was almost infuriating as she craved to be more like that.

Then, she felt his gloved hand wrap around her wrist and his thumb started to rub the inside of her wrist in a soothing way.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured. The nickname slipped naturally as if they had known each other for years.

Her breath hitched at his words but it was followed by a shaky inhale as she tried to focus on his soothing touch. The winds slowly weakened and at the next inhale, the scripts and curtains drifted down.

The set was completely silent as everyone on set looked at her nervously. Yet, Bombsight was the only one who didn't look at her like a ticking bomb.

Instead, he looked down at her with a curious look as if she was something he didn't expect.

__ 

The fake suburban street looked destroyed. The clothes used as laundry props were thrown across the street and some lights were completely shattered.

The only people left on set were the exhausted crew members who still had to clean everything.

Chiara decided to stay too. Bombsight noticed this after he left his lodge. He spent the last thirty minutes there having to listen to a Vought executive talking about his planning for the next few weeks.

The fact she was still there was unusual. Normally, the new talents vanished directly once the filming was done, dragged away by Vought or already too haughty to care about the poor crew members.

But she remained there, following the different crew members to whom she apologized constantly.

Curious about what he was seeing, he decided to stay there for a few more minutes so he could keep watching. He leaned slightly against a fake white fence as he plucked out a cigarette from a small metal case.

She was now crouched beside one of the assistants, gathering scattered papers with them. 

“Miss Windfall, you don’t gotta—” the assistant started nervously. They knew how Vought could act up if they saw their precious new product doing mundane tasks.

“Chiara,” she corrected automatically without even thinking about her own words.

She didn't even notice the startled look from the assistant.

Instead, she reached upwards cautiously and a soft current of air followed, lifting the last papers gently off the floor and depositing them back on the nearby table. This time, she managed to control her powers.

“Thank you,” the assistant said quietly and the effect was immediate as Chiara brightened directly as if she was proud of doing something so basic.

At the sight, he frowned slightly around his cigarette. It was weird to him but he was now way too curious to stop observing what was happening.

Across the set, she moved to approach one of the technicians who tried to untangle cables.

“Wait, let me help, mister Feldman.”

At the sound of her voice, the older man stiffened visibly. Her expression dimmed at that, she knew that people were already afraid of her.

But then, she forced another smile and still decided to help him. A small breeze lifted the heavier cable carefully off the ground so the technician could reposition it easily.

“There,” she said softly. “Is that alright?” she looked at the man expectantly, hoping that she did good and that she didn't make everything worse.

“Yeah…thank you, miss.” the man replied with a wary tone but he still seemed grateful for the help. In turn, her smile stretched as she looked clearly relieved.

Bombsight crushed the ash from his cigarette thoughtfully as his gaze stayed stuck on her while she kept moving through the set. He noticed the way she remembered everybody on set calling them by names as she truly tried to get acquainted with them.

The scene got interesting again when one of the makeup girls accidentally dropped a tray of powder compacts near her. The powder made her sneeze loudly as it bursted towards her face.

Clouds of powder erupted around her at the same time, the makeup artists and herself ending up covered in beige powders. It was easier to see the impact on their clothes and hair. Chiara blinked in confusion at the sight of the shocked woman next to her as she understood that now, even her sneeze made her powers act up. 

“Oh my God– I’m sorry–” she started, wanting to apologize to the poor woman who clearly wore brand new clothes for her work today. Now her red dress was covered in beige powder. 

But another sneeze escaped her before she could even try to prevent it. This time, a gust of wind made the hat of a poor assistant fly away. The other crew members didn’t take any step back this time. Sure, her powers were acting up, but compared to previously, it wasn’t as violent. 

But Chiara still covered her nose with her hand as if she could physically hold back any potential sneeze that threatened to escape her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her face growing red with embarrassment. “The powder just–” but she was quickly interrupted by the makeup girl who looked more guilty than scared by the supe next to her. 

“No, miss, it was my fault—” the other woman said and it seemed to be enough for the supe to calm down a little as her face went from a bright to a more gentle pink. 

Bombsight finally decided to move as he pushed himself off the fake white fence, crushing the rest of his cigarette under his boots. Even if people didn’t look afraid of Windfall right now, one of the assistants could end up messing everything up by saying something stupid. 

He stopped beside her, taking in the way she was now covered in powder. But weirdly, it fitted her. It made her look more human and less like a Voughts product. 

“That all you got? Couple sneezes?” he asked her with an amused smirk while she met his gaze with a look of disbelief at his words. The pink coloring once again her cheeks. 

“Who knows what could have happened if I kept sneezing. I already broke a camera last time.” 

“And Jenkins blew up a prop truck last month yet nobody threatened to exorcise or fire him.” 

At his words, a startled laugh slipped from her lips before she could even prevent it. And it seemed that even her positive emotions affected her powers as a soft breeze went between them. 

Noticing how her powers reacted once again to her emotions, she looked down in slight embarrassment. She already felt like she was an open book, but now, it felt way worse. She was easier to read now.

Yet, he couldn’t help but find that reaction cute and he hated that realization as soon as it crossed his mind. Because she was the perfect example of what Vought was trying to produce.

She was the sweet shy girl next door while he was the war hero. The perfect cliché American romance that could be seen in every recent movie. He should have known that Vought had prepared a PR relationship for one of them. 

But then he remembered how she acted since the beginning of filming. She had been nervous the whole time, sure, but she also remembered every crew member’s name and she looked terrified by her own powers. 

Even though she was being shaped into a product, she was still behaving like a person and he doubted that Vought would truly be able to change this. This new realisation made something shift inside him.