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auras-moonstone · 9 months

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hello there could i request jack x actress!reader where they’re co-stars on a show or film and they obviously have feelings for each other but it’s like “everyone knows about it BUT them” kinda thing lmao they act like a couple but neither of them has brought the subject up

let’s just say they were nominated for an oscar and at the vanity fair after party jack’s talking to a girl when he sees the reader talking dancing a little too close to an actor (who’s literally just a friend) and he just goes up to them like “hey can i steal you for a second? great thanks lets go” and just drags her to a more private part (maybe a romantic balcony?) and he’s like “wtf was that???” and she’s like “well i can ask u the same mr.” and it’s just angry love confession and they kiss (no smut pls!!) please and thank you so much 😁

angry confessions are the best😫 hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻

you belong with me — jack champion

word count: 1,729

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack belong together and, while everyone knows it, they acknowledged it. though, at the vanity fair party, the very awaited thing happens.

EVERYONE JUST KNEW Y/N AND JACK BELONGED TOGETHER. And every person who knew them agreed in something—it was very frustrating to see them act like a couple and completely deny there was something going on between them.

The cast of Avatar watched their bond born and blossom. It had been two years since they finished filming that movie, and the cast thought that, by now, they had already admitted their feelings, as they continued to work together after Avatar. And, by the way they were acting around each other throughout the Oscar ceremony, they were sure they were finally a couple.

“Holy shit, Jack, Andrew Garfield is two tables away from us” she said excitedly. “Oh god, is that Margot Robbie? Jack please pinch me I think I just saw Robert Pattinson, also known as the love of my life”.

“I’m not going to pinch you, and your fan girl side is absolutely adorable” Jack said, leaving a kiss on her nose. Y/N laughed and hid her heated cheeks on Jack’s neck.

“I’m so happy for you two!” Zoe told them. The whole table was looking at them as if they were the most adorable creatures in the world.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“It was very obvious, you two had always acted like a couple around set. We all knew you would eventually get together” Sam said.

“Oh! No, we are not together. We’re just friends. And we do not act like a couple” Y/N said. The whole table let out a groan.

“I can’t with these two anymore” Stephen sighed.

Jack and Y/N exchanged glances, but said nothing, letting the ceremony continue.

AT THE END OF THE CEREMONY, THEY ENDED UP GOING TO THE VANITY FAIR PARTY. How could they not? Especially after Avatar won an Oscar. They had to celebrate. And above all, Y/N and Jack wanted to get Zoe’s words out of their minds.

“Y/N?” a voice that sounded familiar asked. The girl turned her head around to see one of her ex co-stars, Nick.

“Oh, god. Nick! Hi. It’s been so long” she said excited. He was one of the first people she worked with, and one of her first friends.

“You look amazing!” he said, looking at her emerald dress.

“Thank you, you too” Y/N smiled politely.

“Wanna dance?” Nick asked. Y/N looked around, Jack was supposed to bring some drinks, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was about to decline, when she caught his figure. Jack was talking with a very gorgeous girl, who had her hand on his bicep and was smiling at him in a flirty way.

“Actually, I’d love to” she clenched her teeth, eyes not leaving the scene as Nick led her to the dance floor.

“You okay?” Nick asked. Y/N blinked, finally looking at him. She faked a smile and nodded as they made a conversation.

Hearing Y/N’s laugh, Jack’s head turned around and closed his hand in a fist at the scene in front of him—his Y/N dancing with some boy and laughing at something he was saying. And his hand was on her waist. Her. Waist. Not caring about being polite to the nameless girl—who can’t seem to get her hand off his bicep—anymore, Jack marched towards the dance floor.

“Hey, can I steal you for a second?” Jack asked, not bothering to greet the boy dancing with Y/N. “Great thanks, let’s go” he said before Y/N could even open her mouth.

He led her to the large window at the end of the room, which led them to a beautiful antique balcony. “What the fuck was that?” Jack spat angrily once he closed the door, blocking the sound of the party. The chilly wind of the night embraced them.

Y/N looked at him in surprise, then in annoyance and crossed her arms in front of her chest “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That… in there” his tone was hard “You were dancing with him, and giggling and flirting… what was that?”

Y/N scoffed “I could ask you the same question, mister. I mean, what was going on there between you and Mrs. Clingy?” her nose scrunched as the image of the girl touching Jack crossed her mind.

“Nothing was going on between me and-” he paused and frowned “Mrs. Clingy? What?”.

“Oh, Jack your hair looks so pretty tonight! Oh Jack, your suit is very stylish and the fabric is so soft! Can I touch it? Oh Jack, have you been going to the gym lately?” she imitated the girl’s pitched voice, while touching his arms “Holy fucking shit, the mice from Cinderella sound less annoying than her”

“That is not what she was saying at all!” Jack rolled his eyes. Lies, that kinda was how the conversation went “What about your boy, then? As if he wasn’t being all clingy, with his arms on your waist and showing you his charming smile, which in my opinion isn’t as charming as the girls on twitter say”.

The girl furrowed her eyes “The girls on-? never mind” Y/N sighed “We were literally dancing! What was he supposed to do with his hands?!” she exclaimed in a loud voice.

“Well, why were you dancing with him in the first place?” Jack asked, his tone matching hers.

Y/N moved her arms frenetically, it was something she did when she got frustrated “He’s my friend! We did a movie together a long time ago, we were catching up”

Jack let out a dry laugh “He sure as hell doesn’t want to be your friend”

“Oh, you read minds now!” she said sarcastically.

“I’m not stupid, I certainly can tell when a guy wants a girl”

“You’re totally wrong, but if he did, what is the problem?”

“There’s no problem!” he forced a laugh. “Why would there be a problem? You can flirt with whoever you want, dance with whoever you want, date whoever you want!”

“Then what is this discussion for?!” Y/N looked at him, she was basically breathing flames when she talked. “There clearly is a problem—you can flirt with girls but for some reason I can’t flirt with boys?? And you have to drag me away to cause a useless fight and can’t even tell me what’s the real reason”.

“So you were flirting!” Jack pointed an accusatory finger at her.

She let out a groan of irritation “That’s what you got from all that?! Really?! Why are you being so insufferable right now?”

“Because I fucking love you!” Jack’s statement was as loud as the beats of her heart when she took in his words. “And I can’t stand seeing you dance with him, looking so fucking angelic. It drives me nuts how he gets to hear you laugh and your sweet voice. I want you to dance with me, I want you to laugh with me, I want the hand on your waist to be mine… and you know what else I want?” he asked, his voice gradually lowered as he spoke, and now it was soft as silk. And his face was only inches away from hers. Y/N was speechless, so she just shook her head “I want to kiss you, and I want everyone to see—especially him”.

“You are so… frustrating” she sighed, now her tone was calmer “He is just my friend, I promise. And I don’t want anyone but you, Jack. Ever since I met you on set, you have been the only boy on my mind. I don’t care how charming his smile is” she said, and Jack whispered ‘not that charming’. “He is not you”.

Jack smiled at those last words. He brought his hand to the side of her face, to pull away a strand of hair that fell from her ponytail “I’m sorry for acting like a jealous boyfriend. I had no right, it just… it pissed me off as much as it scared me”.

“Scared you?” she asked confused, leaning into the softness of his palm.

“The thought of you being with someone else, and losing you before I even got to tell you how I felt… it scared me” he confessed.

Y/N basically threw herself in his arms “I love you, Jack. And I’m sorry too, I also acted like a jealous girlfriend. And if it makes you feel less guilty, I was two seconds away from leaving the place with brunette strands of hair as a trophy”

At that, Jack bursted out laughing “You remind me of that villain bunny from The secret life of pets”

“Jack!” she laughed, pushing his shoulder gently.

“You’re so cute. I love you” he smiled as he left short kisses on her cheeks.

“Just for the record, you are also the least intimidating-looking guy ever. You are literally a golden retriever”

He grimaced “I’m a cat person”

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling from ear to ear “Just kiss me, dork”.

Jack’s hands grabbed her cheeks as she raised her head to meet his lips. Their chests tightened as they became addicted to the softness of each other’s lips and the taste of cherry that Y/N’s chapstick provided. Her fingertips lost between his long curls as his traced circles on her blushed-covered cheeks.

They cursed the oxygen as they pulled away, breathless and complete mesmerised by the other, as if there were under the influence of some kind of spell. The magic broke with the sound of an opening door, and Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the sight of the brunette girl.

“Jack! I have been looking for you” her high pitch tone made Y/N’s jaw clench. “Oh, sorry. You don’t mind if I steal him, right?” she asked Y/N, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Y/N mimicked her smile “He’s busy right now. Come back never”

Jack tried not to laugh “Sorry, I want to be here with my girlfriend. There’s a guy on table 5 called Nick who is totally your type, though, you’ll like him”

The girl, clearly confused, turned around and left them alone. Y/N looked at Jack “Can we get out of here? I hate parties”.

“Sure, love. Movie and ice cream?” he asked, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. Their hands, as always, fitted just right. Like they were made to go together, like they belonged together—just like Y/N and Jack.

Y/N smiled and kissed his knuckles “You know me so well, I love you”.

#jack champion #ethan landry #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #jack champion fanfic #ethanlandry #scream iv #ethan landry x reader

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redclercs · 1 year

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

INTRO: who's y/n anyway? ew.

— the one where everyone tells you who are.

warnings: ignore the timestamps please, online harassment.

masterlist ✢ next

Soft jazz is playing in the living room of y/n y/ln's apartment in SoHo, with all the curtains pulled back the golden hour feels like a golden infinity. We're already in our second cup of coffee, a specialty brought from Veracruz, Mexico by y/n herself.

This is not our first meeting, y/n and I go back a few years, when the box-office hit 'Supercut' sent her straight into stardom and earned her a place in the public's heart. Since then, there has been no other way but up for the young star.

From humble beginnings and a list of failed castings, roles as an extra and endless photoshoots with stock images, y/n knows what it's like to work hard to achieve what you want.

"Sometimes, when I look back at my struggles I wonder what made the universe align in my favor. Hard work only gets you so far, I am incredibly lucky too." She says, eyeing the framed picture of the wrap-up day of her very first movie 'Loneliness', where she played the daughter of a struggling waitress.

"I was in about six scenes, but I couldn't have been more thrilled. It was the first time I felt like a real actress."

Of course, there are other aspects of her life where y/n is extremely fortunate. It has been two years since she started dating Asian-American hearthrob Aidan Kim. Looks like 'Supercut' really was her luckiest strike.

"We do like to keep some things to ourselves," y/n laughs after I ask her for an update on her relationship, I want to know the details behind the lovestagrams we get on a regular basis. "We love and respect each other deeply."

Night has fallen in SoHo and while y/n shuts the curtains, I take my surroundings in once again. A loveseat with a stain on the cushion, a coffee table that Aidan brought from a trip to Nepal where he filmed his newest project, framed pictures of the couple and their families crowd the room. This is the home they have built for themselves.

Some may argue that y/n's specialty are romantic comedies where she gets to play the doe-eyed love interest to the dark and handsome male protagonist, but y/n has her sights set on bigger things. An Oscar nomination, maybe?

"I have fun with the movies I make, but I do want to expand my horizons. I have so many ideas I want to try, I just need a shot to prove myself." She beams with hope, in an ideal world, type-casting wouldn't be a thing.

Speaking of tall, dark and handsome, just as we're about to wrap things up, the door to the apartment opens and Aidan Kim himself comes through bearing a bouquet of roses and bag of take out. A sheepish grin bursts through his face as he realizes the interruption, and does his best attempt to disappear, not before giving a proud thumbs up to his girlfriend. This peek into their private life is enough to see how much they love each other.

"Thank you so much for coming," y/n has been an excellent host this evening, and I am happy to leave her to attend to her love nest. "It was a pleasure."

TWITTER SEARCH: y/n

Y/N’s SOCIALS

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ynstars pretty! hope you had fun babes

effmeaidan you’re only famous thanks to aid

cestbren please tell me you’re really going to be on euphoria

dropbeastsss she’s so fake idk why people like her

dropbeastsss I’m not even aidan’s fan btw

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softforyn mY PARENTS

aid4nshoe you followed him to Paris? God let him breathe

loladell my friend saw her today and she refused to take a pic lmao💀

ynflowers can’t wait for you two to get married🥺

↺ FROM ❛FLIXFANS ❜PODCAST MARCH 2022

Chelsea Gonzalez: I just- I feel like y/n is so lazy at this point. Girl you have been doing romcoms for years read a different script.

Gabriel Irwin: [laughs] I don’t think she even reads them anymore. It’s the same role every time that’s just the way she acts on a normal basis now.

Brianna Martin: that’s so mean! Honestly I just feel like she needs to switch agents, there were rumors about that marvel movie and then nothing happened?

↺ FROM YOUTUBE INTERVIEW WITH Y/N IN ❛ONLYFLIX❜ CHANNEL SEPTEMBER 2022

Y/n: I just love being on set, I have so much fun getting to be somebody else and it really feels like I’m in another world.

Ryan Campbell: But your movies aren’t too distanced from your real life situation are they? You have your own movie-like love story with none other than Aidan Kim!

y/n: Oh, uh… yeah I mean, one is fiction and another one isn’t? [laughs] real life relationships are definitely not like the movies.

Ryan Campbell: But how does it feel knowing everyone wishes they were you? I know I do!

y/n: [laughs] I really think we should go back to the movie talk!

↺ FROM ❛IT TALK❜ PODCAST NOVEMBER 2022

Riley Green: [cont.] I mean I loved her look on the red carpet, her stylist LOVES her.

Martha Vincent: y/n is a gorgeous woman, I think that’s why she’s so loved by the public.

Greg Zane: She’s certainly a rising It girl, I just wish we saw her more rather than her fiancé? Boyfriend?

Riley Green: Oh take that back Greg, I’m not about to get cancelled for your shade towards Aidan Kim.

─── team principal radio: ❝ this is my first fic for a f1 driver! exciting! i hope you enjoy this series as much as i'm enjoying creating it. i would love to know your thoughts through comments/reblogs!♡❞

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 angst

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waltermis · 5 months

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The Oscars

MASTERLIST ↠ SINGER!READER UNIVERSE

Summary: It’s time for the Oscars

Warnings: swearing, most likely inaccurate stuff about the Oscars… I tried to collect as much information as possible, but it is entirely likely that I messed the whole thing up.

Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x fem!reader (romantic), Scarlett x Lorelai Philips (platonic), Scarlett x Quinn Jones (platonic).

A/N: Happy birthday, Scarlett ❤️❤️

↠↠↠

Scarlett sighed nervously as she watched the people around her bustle and hustle in her hotel room, attempting to get her ready for the Oscars. She silently hoped that she would be nominated for at least one award but never voiced her thoughts out loud, not wanting to be disappointed if she didn’t get nominated. Looking around her busy room, she really wished that you could’ve been here.

You’ve been on tour for over a year now and the last time she was able to physically see and feel you in person was 7 months ago when you performed for 3 nights in Atlanta. She had a couple of reshoots for Black Widow there, and when you had told her that you would be having a concert there, she instantly bought tickets to see you perform. She bought tickets for all 3 nights, singing/screaming the words to the songs until her voice was raspy and on the verge of going away. She bought tickets for your brothers, your dad, and the rest of her family to go with her, to support you. She had so much fun watching you sing and dance; seeing you have fun with your dancers and backup singers on stage had her so mesmerized. And watching the way you interacted with your fans, she really understood why you loved them so much.

She gasped lightly, getting pulled away from her thoughts when her hairstylist accidentally tugged too hard on her hair. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Johansson.” Quinn apologized quickly.

“It’s okay,” she reassured. “And how long have you been my hairstylist?”

“6 years-ish, give or take,”

“And how many times have I told you to call me Scarlett?”

“Too many to count,” they said, sheepishly.

“Exactly, so are you going to start calling me Scarlett?”

“It’s very unlikely,” the two of them laughed at that. “Are you excited for tonight?” they asked.

“Yeah,” Scarlett replied, “I think it’ll be really fun,” she smiled while they added the finishing touches to her hair.

“And done.” they said, showing her hair in the mirror.

“I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now go get your dress on. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Lorelai’s head is gonna explode.”

Scarlett looked over at her manager, who was standing in the corner talking on her phone, and Quinn was right, Lorelai looked beyond stressed. “She looks like a headless chicken.” she said, grinning.

Quinn burst out laughing, which caught Lorelai’s attention. “Shit shit shit, go to the bedroom now!!” They pushed her off the makeup chair. She quickly ran into the bedroom and put on her dress. Looking at herself, she smiled softly. God did she wish that you were here right now.

She decided to pull out her phone and give you a call. The phone rang for a couple seconds before your voicemail came on. “Hi, this is Y/N; I am currently not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.” Scarlett smiled at the sound of your bubbly voice.

Beeeeeep

“Hi baby, I was just calling because I missed you. I’m just about ready to leave for the awards tonight and I wanted to hear your voice. Call me back tonight when you’re free? I love you.” She hung up.

“Scarlett!! Are you ready?” Lorelai asked, a little panicked, knocking excessively on the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

In the car, Scarlett pulled out her phone and began to watch reels of you singing during your tour on Instagram. She honestly couldn’t be more proud of you, she knew you always wanted to be a singer, but that dream didn’t solidify until you first sang in the first Pitch Perfect movie. She saw how hard you worked for this, and knew that you deserved every single round of applause you got after each song you’d sing.

↠↠↠

Scarlett stepped out of her car, putting on a practiced smile for the cameras. She looked at the paparazzi and her fans who were screaming and crying out her name. She got her picture taken and was led to the section where interviews were taking place. She did a couple of them, she even had one with her co-star and friend, Florence Pugh.

Soon, Lorelai was ushering her off to the next part. Scarlett smiled as she greeted Cole Walliser; he was the one in charge of the GlamBOTs; the camera that moves extremely quickly but the footage taken is in slow motion. After he instructed her on what she should be doing, Scarlett did her iconic over the shoulder pose into the camera and smiled happily. The speed of the camera startled her for a moment, but she was quick to regain her bearings. She thanked him again, and then joined her manager in one of the more secluded areas as an usher led them into the building.

Scarlett smiled softly in thanks at the attendant who led her and Lorelai to their seats. Getting inside the building took quite a bit of time; with the amount of celebrities showing up in it was bound to get crazy. She sighed, gently wiping her hands on her dress. “You nervous?” Lorelai whispered quietly.

“Little bit,”

“Don’t be,”

“I kinda wish Y/N was here…”

“I know,”

“Not that I don’t love your company.” Scarlett amended quickly, “I just– I just miss her. I mean, I haven’t seen the woman in 7 months!”

“I know that too,”

“And I know that she’d be able to calm me down in a second if she were here. I know that she wouldn’t care if she won an award tonight, cause she’d think that all the other nominees deserved it better.”

“That sounds like Y/N,” Lorelai laughed. “Now before you can go into a spiral right now, do you think you’re gonna win tonight?”

“Maybe…? I mean there’s so many other people to consider before me,”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. I know you, and knowing you, I know you’ll get a nomination, I’m sure of it.”

Scarlett smiled a genuine smile at Lorelai, “Thank you,”. Lorelai winked at her, before the night began.

Scarlett smiled brightly as each nomination was announced. She had to admit, even if you weren’t here, she was having a nice time. Her heart had skipped a beat when she heard Taika Waitit’s name get called when ‘Jojo Rabbit’ won Best Adapted Screenplay. She quickly stood him and congratulated him, sharing a moment of joy before he went on stage. “He deserves this,” Lorelai said, watching as Taika started his speech.

“He really does, this was one of the best scripts I’ve ever read.”

“I know…. I saw the movie.”

Scarlett scrunched her eyebrows together. “Hey, do you know why you have an empty seat beside you?”

“I don’t know, maybe someone wasn’t able to show up?” Lorelai guessed.

“Probably, I wonder who couldn’t make it.”

↠↠↠

“How’re you feeling?” Lorelai asked, a little bit later. They were now watching the little clips put together for the award of Best Documentary Feature.

“The nerves are still there but I’m good.”

“Good,” Lorelai smirked, she had a strange look in her eyes as they began clapping as the winner was announced. Scarlett gave her a suspicious look but paid her no mind as she listened to the speeches.

Soon enough, Mahershala Ali came out to present the award for Best Supporting Actress. Scarlett held her breath, squeezing Lorelai’s hand lightly as her heart beat out of her chest.

Mahershala began his speech. “Most every actress and actor I know wants to build a lasting body of work choosing roles that do more than just speak to them personally, but with the hope of their performance will resonate with others. The five women nominated Best Supporting Actress have done just that.”

The short clips of multiple different movies began, starting with Laura Dern in Marriage Story. Then she saw herself as Rosie Betzler in ‘Jojo Rabbit’ play on the screen. She sighed happily, feeling exhilarated that she was nominated. She smiled even harder when she saw Florence was also nominated. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in the supporting role.” He paused, “Kathy Bates, Richard Jewell. Laura Dern, Marriage Story. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit. Florence Pugh, Little Women. Margot Robbie, Bombshell.”

“And, the Oscar goes to……. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit.” Everyone in the crowd cheered as Scarlett stayed frozen in her seat. It wasn’t until Lorelai nudged her lightly did she realize that she had really won. Hugging a couple of friends quickly, Scarlett headed up onto the stage, smiling bashfully as everyone continued to clap. “Congratulations,” Mahershala said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the award as he handed it to her. She walked up to the microphone set up in the middle of the stage, standing in front of everyone beaming proudly when the crowd began to clap even harder.

Suddenly, Scarlett felt two arms wrap around her waist from behind. She spun around quickly, alarmed. She was fully prepared to scream out when she stared into a pair of eyes she’s longed to see in person for the past 7 months. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her words barely audible. Scarlett let go of her award as she wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. With your quick reflexes, you manage to catch the award before it hits the ground and you hand it off to Lorelai who was waiting to receive it at the bottom of the stage.

You returned Scarlett’s hug just as tightly, cupping your right hand over her neck and wrapping your other arm around her waist, pulling her into you. “Hi baby,” you whispered into her hair, kissing her temple. You closed your eyes for a moment, cherishing the feeling of her finally being in your arms again. You didn’t realize how much you really missed her until just now.

You felt her body shake and gently you removed her from your body, keeping her at a nice distance. Scarlett had tears streaming down her face as she reached for you. “No,” she whimpered, her hands coming up to clench at your clothes. “Too far,” she clarified, tugging you closer still.

“Okay, I won’t go too far, but why’re you crying?” you asked, gently turning her body so her back faced the stage. Delicately, you brushed away her tears while you tried not to ruin her makeup. Thank god for waterproof makeup.

“I just missed you so fucking much,”

“I missed you too,” you kissed her head again, relishing the fact that she was with you for real and that it wasn’t a sick dream.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still in Rome!”

“I was… but I thought I’d stop by before my next show in a couple of days.” you replied, smiling warmly at her.

“What’re you wearing?” Scarlett asked, once she’s got a good look at you.

“What? You don’t like it? I think I’m dressed very nicely for the Oscars,” you teased, tugging at your hoodie and sweatpants, and then scrunching your face up, showing your face without any makeup.

“I think you look great.”

“I know… I was supposed to be at the house before you came here to actually be there for you but my flight got delayed because of the weather,”

Scarlett gasped, “That’s why you didn’t take my call!”

“Didn’t see it, had my phone on airplane mode. Anyways by the time I landed, the event had already started. And when I actually got here, they were presenting your award. I didn’t have time to change, if you can’t tell.”

“You look beautiful,” she said. “And I love you very much,” she murmured into your neck as she buried herself back into you. “And I appreciate you being here for me,”

“I love you too,” you mumbled. “Now, I think there’s an entire room full of celebrities waiting for your speech.” you quickly pulled away, making sure that you didn’t smear any of her makeup. Hastily, you reassured Scarlett that you would still be there when she was done with her speech but she wasn’t convinced. Instead, she clasped your hands together behind her as Lorelai handed her back her Oscar and headed back to her seat.

What the two of you didn’t realize was that during your reunion, the microphone had picked up everything you’ve both said and there wasn't a dry eye in the audience. Anyone who knew you and Scarlett knew that you were perfect for each other. And anyone who’s heard of you knew that you were the power couple that dominated every industry. You were the ‘it’ couple. One of the only couples the world knew that clicked as well as the two of you did.

You stood behind her, beaming with pride as Scarlett started her speech, her hand still grasped tightly in yours behind her back. “I’m so sorry about that, um, I haven’t seen her in 7 months and yeah,” she chuckled lightly, “I just wanted to thank everybody who got me here. I want to thank…” the rest of her speech faded away from your ears as you admired your girlfriend. You knew without a doubt that this would be the person that you’d spend the rest of your life with. “I also want to thank my partner in crime, Y/N,” you snapped back to reality at the sound of your name. “Without you, then none of this would’ve been possible, you helped me remember my lines and perfect my German accent, which was not easy, by the way, and yet, you never wavered. You never doubted for a second that I couldn’t do this, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I love you more than words can ever express.” You smiled, kissing her cheek before you led Scarlett down the stairs to get her name engraved into her award. You stood beside her the entire time, holding her hand tightly, squeezing it periodically to reassure her that you were still there. And then again, when she went to get her picture taken. The media had a field day at the sight of you with Scarlett, dressed in old baggy clothes. However, you didn’t care at all. The only thing important to you was Scarlett.

The only time you let go of her hand was when an attendant needed her to return to her seat. You smiled at her comfortingly, “I’ll be back in a bit, love. I need to change into more appropriate clothes for tonight. I’ll meet you back at the seats.” Scarlett nodded before walking away, finally understanding the empty seat next to Lorelai when she saw she had moved down one spot.

“You sly bitch,” Scarlett whispered to her. Lorelai simply smiled before turning back to Cinematography clips.

Soon, Scarlett grew restless wondering where you were. As if you knew about her worries, you immediately appeared beside her, taking a seat next to her, dressed up like everyone else. You were wearing a black mermaid dress with no straps and shimmers decorated the fabric of the dress. Your hair was released from its messy bun and lay to rest on your shoulders. Your makeup around your eyes was dark but simple, just a bit more eyeliner on your waterline.

Scarlett’s incessant staring started to make you nervous and self conscious. “What? Do I look weird?”

“How is it possible that in only a couple minutes you can look so gorgeous while it takes me hours to look like this.” she gestured at herself.

“You look absolutely amazing,”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely,”

“Even if I probably had snot and tears running down my face earlier?”

“To me, you looked like an angel.”

↠↠↠

Everyone began clapping again as Rami Malik walked up onto the stage. “It is truly an honor and privilege to be here celebrating the transformative performances as displayed by these five nominees; they're powerful, profound, and indelibly etched in our history and in our hearts.” You smiled excitedly at Scarlett when you saw her picture from Marriage Story show up on the big screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw your performance for ‘Palm Springs’ appear on stage. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in a leading role. Cynthia Erivo, Harriet. Scarlett Johansson, Marriage Story.” You cheered loudly. “Saoirse Ronan, Little Women. Charlize Theron, Bombshell. Y/N L/N, Palm Springs.” This time, it was Scarlett who was cheering loudly for you, as you smiled shyly.

“And the Oscar goes to…… Y/N L/N.” Standing up, you had tears in your eyes as you gave everyone a hug. Scarlett gave you a quick kiss before you walked up onto the stage. “Congratulations,” Rami said, when he hugged you.

“Thank you,” you smiled as he handed you your award. Walking up to the microphone, you looked out into the crowd.

“I don’t know if any of you saw it earlier but I literally just arrived…” you laughed lightly, “Um wow… I did not know that I would be winning an Oscar tonight, or else I would’ve been more prepared. Truth be told, I was only really here to support my girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. I had no idea that I would be winning something too. So, I’ll make this quick, I just want to thank Max Barbakow who even gave me the chance to audition for the part of Sarah. I also want to thank the amazing cast and crew, without you here then there wouldn’t be a movie to make and I am so grateful for all of you. And finally, I want to thank my incredible girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. If it weren’t for you then I would’ve never even thought about taking this role. You have guided me and supported me through this entire project and I can’t thank you enough. I love you so much more than you’ll ever know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about 7 hours left here before I have to fly off to the next destination on my tour. Congrats to all the nominees and the winners tonight!”

Speedily, you walked across the stage and out the back to get your name engraved. You stopped for a couple pictures before you returned back inside. You came back in just as they announced the last winner for Best Motion Picture. The event soon came to a close.

You grinned along with Scarlett as everyone around you congratulated the two of you. Florence even came to tackle you into a hug. After arranging a date to hang out together again, you and Scarlett headed through the back where Lorelai and her driver were already waiting for you inside the car.

You opened the door for her, letting her in first. On the way back to the hotel, the two of you were sitting as close as you could with your seatbelts on. Your arm over Scarlett’s shoulder while she kept her face buried in your neck, trying to memorize your smell. The two of you spent the rest of the night talking about nothing and everything.

THE END

↠↠↠

3292 words

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #the oscars #singer!reader universe #singer!reader #scarlett x reader #avengers #marvel #mcu #marriage story #jojo rabbit #rosie betzler #Nicole barber

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graneymar · 1 year

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Hiì, can you do a Neymar X fem!reader when she is an actress and she was nominated for an Oscar

(they are like 26-27, davi in this is reader's son so they have been together since they were teenagers and she gave birth when she was 17.

And they have a daughter too)

you could describe how the night goes, how everyone are loving them, and then at the end she wins too.

Him being super supportive, everyone loves them, they meet other celebrities..

add what you feel it's right!!!

thank you if you’ll do it!!❤️❤️And also, l'm sorry if something it's not very clear, but l'm not a native speaker!!

#4. NEYMAR: THE OSCARS [requested]

SUMMARY: above

WARNINGS: angst (a little)

PAIRINGS: Neymar x female reader

I was nervous as hell. Being nominated for an Oscar for my first big role after pausing my career for my husband and kids for almost ten years, I had a feeling this event wouldn’t go too well for me. Neymar, sitting next to me in the limousine, noticed how anxious I got and intertwined his hand with mine. Before looking up at him, I watched him hold my hand for a second. The moment our eyes met I let out a loud sigh. He smiled at me softly, "Don't worry amorzinha, no matter what happens tonight, you wouldn’t even be nominated if you haven’t done this good [sweetheart]." I nodded, knowing he was right. I bit my bottom lip as I was getting flashbacks. "I just don’t want to disappoint or even embarrass myself being too hopeful. Last time I checked everyone hated on me."

In fact, I was born to be in front of the camera. Since I was a little child, I got booked for commercials and roles in movies. When I was 14 years old, I even had my own show and became a rolemodel for many younger girls. Eventually, everything changed when I met Neymar. We were filming a commercial together and fell in love. I was only 16 years old when I found out I was pregnant. Neymar, who was my first boyfriend – now being my boyfriend for over a decade –, and I already had a hard time dealing with personal issues, but the media interfering as soon as they found about me carrying his child, made it a lot harder. I lost all my jobs. The reason? I got slutshamed, I simply was a shame. I should’ve been a better rolemodel to my younger fans, they wanted me to take responsibility. But how was I supposed to do this when I still was a kid myself. Neymar, on the other side, got praised for being such a good father to our son, Davi, who I gave birth to at the age of 17. They respected him for continuing his career as a football player and still being able to take care of his little family. How ironic.

Since I had to raise our son, follow Neymar around the world and no one wanted to work with me anyway thanks to my bad image, I fully gave up on my acting career and decided I would just dedicate my life to my son and boyfriend. And honestly, I never regretted it, not even for a second.

On Davis fourth birthday I found out I was pregnant again. God blessed us with another angel, our babygirl Luana. Neymar and I couldn’t be happier. We had each other, we had our children and enjoyed every moment we were able to share with one another. On the other side though, Neymar always felt guilty for 'ruining' my career. That was the reason he tried to motivate me to apply for some roles when the kids were old enough. I couldn’t even imagine myself acting again, I wasn’t that confident and sure of myself anymore. But being Neymars girlfriend, I got a lot of offers for promoting products on social media or filming basic commercials. I had a hard time realising Davi and Luana were growing up, going to private school and following their hobbies instead of their mother taking care of and playing with them all day, so at some point, I decided to agree on filming a commercial - and the unexpected happened. I got booked for small roles in shows and movies, until I got the main role in a movie I felt like would be very big and popular, and I was right about that. It seemed like almost everyone forgot about my past and started loving and respecting me again after seeing me in the movie, which led to me being nominated for an Oscar as the best actress. It still felt unreal to me. I never would’ve imagined I'd be able to act again, let alone being nominated for a fucking Oscar.

"Meu amor, all this happened over ten years ago [my love]. Trust me, the respect towards you for being such an amazing mother to two children at a young age and still having such a comeback must be immense." If he only knew how much I loved him.

We arrived and I checked myself out in the selfie camera for the last time before getting out of the limousine, Neymar following closely behind me. All cameras were directed as us, the flash lights not stopping for a second. Neymar grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer to him, posing for some photos. Instead of giving my attention to the cameras that were shoved right into our faces, I couldn’t help but stare at Neymar and smile widely as I repeatingly thought about how lucky I was to have him by my side. After me watching him for a few seconds, he looked down at me. His lips formed a big grin. "Eu te amo [I love you]", he whispered before giving me a short kiss, causing me to blush and chuckle a little. The second his lips touched mine, we heard everyone cheering and "aww"-ing.

The moment the nominees for the best actress got called out I swallowed hard. I breathed in and out heavily when I heard my name. Neymar picked up my hand, kissing the back of it. I appreciated him putting in effort to help me calm down, but I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I got more nervous with every passing second. "I just want this to finally end and go home", I whispered to him, taking another deep breath. He was trying to stay positive for me, but looking into his eyes, his nervousness and worries were obvious and clear to me. My heart was racing, I swear I could even hear it’s beating. The winner would get announced now. My eyes shut down, I faced the ground. I didn’t want the cameras to catch my disappointed crying face. Why would I be sad anyway? Getting an Oscar never was anything I expected. Suddenly, I heard applause and inaudible cheering around me. Did she just say my name? I quickly looked up but was unable to realise what was going on. Neymar jumped up, hands clapping, tears of joy were visible in his hazel eyes. My mouth fell open. This had to be a joke. Impossible. "Parabéns bebê, I'm so proud of you [congratulations baby]", Neymar dragged me up from my seat and hugged me tightly, kissing my cheek. I felt hot tears streaming down my face. The speech I held was absolute chaos, crying and stuttering, but still expressing how grateful I was.

"Oh. My. God", Neymar stuttered. We were at the after party enjoying ourselves. His favorite actor of all time, Will Smith, walked up to us. "Ney, Y/N", he greeted and hugged us, "Congratulations! I was so relieved the second your name was called. Your acting was just… wow! You really deserve it." I had to hold myself back from fangirling and squeaking, getting such a compliment from Will fucking Smith himself. We did some small talk and continued meeting some more of our idols throughout the whole night.

Yes, I won an Oscar that night, but the real win was the man I had by my side - always supporting me, motivating and inspiring me to do what’s best for me and loving me unconditionally.

#football imagine #football imagines #neymar #neymar imagine #neymar imagines #imagine #imagines #neymar jr #neymar junior #neymar x reader #neymar x you #neymar one shot #neymar jr x you #neymar jr x reader #neymar fluff #neymar headcanon #neymar blurb #neymar angst

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mooodyblue · 1 year

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ahhhahaha im so excited to see ur requests are back open!!! id love to see something with austin after the oscars, maybe some fluff with th reader trying to make sure he doesnt feel too sad ❤️‍🩹

hehe thank youuu!! said i wasn't gonna write today but then i started thinking about austin and couldn't fight the urge. hope you enjoy!

wc: 686

masterlist

austin was absolutely terrified on the way to the oscars. not only was it the end of his elvis chapter but he could possibly be going home with one of the biggest awards of the night and in the industry. his leg bounced up and down in the seat next to you in the car. he was sandwiched in between both you and his publicist. you had never seen him so nervous, not even at the golden globes was he this nervous.

“look, think of it this way-after tonight, we can finally go on vacation and just spend real quality time together. it’s a win either way, right?” you spoke.

austin shook his head, “i can’t think about anything else. i-i don’t even think i have a speech ready, what if i forget someone? and god, i don’t wanna even think about all the carpet interviews.” he continued to nervously ramble on and on.

you pecked him on the lips and held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. “austin. i love you, you’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“what if i don’t get it?” he asked quietly.

“then you don’t get it. you still have your entire career ahead of you, an award doesn’t define you as an actor.” you answered softly. “i’ll still be proud of you regardless.”

he nodded as he gave you a sad smile, looking out the window to the massive crowd at the carpet.

eight nominations, not a single win. you were thankful you were sat in the back where the camera couldn’t get any sort of shot with you in as your reaction to each loss could have definitely caused a stir on social media. after the show ended and the camera was cut, you made your way to find austin, immediately going to wrap your arms around him. he sighed against you and you pulled away. “are you okay?”

“need to go get ready for the party-”

“austin,” you grabbed him by the shoulders. “are you okay?”

he didn’t respond, instead taking your hand and heading out to go get changed.

it was just the two of you in the room, austin was behind you, helping you fix your dress. you glanced at him through the mirror, noting he still hadn’t said a word about the awards. “i’m proud of you.”

he stood up and zipped up your dress, stepping away from you and sighing. he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked around the room. “i just feel like all that hard work was for nothing. i tried to not let this upset me but it just…” he finally turned to look at you, letting out a heavy sigh. “this sucks, y/n. i was so confident, i just hope the presley’s aren’t disappointed in me, in us. y’know?”

“hey, don’t say that.” you walked over to him, austin wrapping his arms around you with sad eyes looking into yours. “you know they’re proud of all of you, more specifically you. especially elvis.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, grinning. “you also got a golden globe and a bafta and like…a million other awards.” you reminded. “you didn’t end this chapter completely empty-handed.”

“a million is a bit much-”

you shot him a glare, “that’s not the point.” you snapped. “i’m saying, this wasn’t just for nothing. you’re going to have more chances in the future, you’re just getting started. this movie did huge things for you and i will always, always be proud of you. you’re my little movie star, a winner in my heart.”

austin finally gave you a small smile, thinking about all the good memories and achievements he made throughout the past year. “i love you, i hope you know that.” he pressed his lips against your forehead and grinned. “you’re right though, i’m not ending it empty-handed. i got you.”

you smacked him playfully on the chest, letting out a laugh. “you are so corny it almost makes me sick.”

“but you love me for it.”

“unfortunately i do.” you sighed. “now, let’s go get drunk.”

#austin x reader #austin butler x reader

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violettduchess · 2 years

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Clavis with hyacinth? 👀

A/N: This is the FINAL fic in my 500 Follower Celebration.

To both anons: I hope you don't mind I combined/tweaked these two requests because they fit together so nicely.

Hollywood AU, Clavis and f!reader

fluff, angst, kisses

Word Count: 4518

Your arms ache as you wipe down the splotchy navy blue counter for the umpteenth time that day. Even though the sun is trailing its last few rays across a pastel sky, a glance at the clock reminds you that you still have 20 minutes to go before your shift is done and you can close. You narrow your eyes in a fierce glare but the clock keeps right on ignoring you, a cold, cruel taskmaster.

“‘Scuse me, lady, could you turn it up?” The customer sitting at the far end of the counter in front of the mounted TV gestures with his fork, bits of cherry pie still clinging to the prongs.

You paste on your most accommodating smile. “Of course, sir.” Your sore feet carry you to the other end of the counter where you kick the small step-stool into a better position before standing and manually raising the volume. The remote had decided it would escape its life of servitude in the tiny diner and had disappeared weeks ago. Your boss was too stingy to buy another so that left you as the living, breathing channel changer and volume controller.

Taking a minute, you lean back against the counter to see what the customer wants to watch.

“Entertainment Today with a rare interview with elusive Oscar-nominated actor Chevalier Michel. We talk about his newest movie, “The Fall of the Brutal Beast”, which is already generating Oscar buzz, and get exclusive details about his upcoming wedding to supermodel Belle! Stay tuned!”

You roll your eyes subtly as you turn away from the screen, walking to check on the coffee machine. Any story claiming to have an exclusive with the notoriously press-wary Chevalier is probably bogus. “An interview” is likely a couple of sentences that the actor would repeat almost verbatim to every reporter on the press junket, if he did any promotion at all. It is this very exclusivity that heightens his mystique, that makes fans rabid for any crumb of information about the method actor. God, when the news broke that he was actually engaged to the bright and bubbly Belle, it was as if someone had dropped a boatload of chum into shark-infested waters. An absolute media frenzy.

Your watch makes a beeping sound, making a grab for your attention. Nearly 8 pm. That curves your lips into a genuine smile as you begin the process of making a large Cafe Mocha, iced, with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. You’ve just finished tapping the final bit of cinnamon on top when the front door opens, bringing with it a tall man in jeans, a lilac and gold button down shirt, black Ray Bans, and a white baseball cap with the red rose of the Rhodolite Wellness Center on it. He slides into his usual spot at the very end of the counter, away from the TV, and you head over, sliding his regular order in front of him. He flashes you a grateful smile which grows even larger when you dip into the glass cookie jar and fish out one of today’s freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

He glances around the nearly empty diner and then removes his sunglasses, tucking them into the V of his shirt. His brandy-colored eyes meet yours and your heart takes a tumble inside your chest.

“And? Did you watch it?” He bites into his cookie, managing to grin even as he chews.

Your smile tells him all he needs to know but you answer anyway. “I sure did. It was hilarious. The bit about your experiment gone wrong in 10th grade chemistry had me rolling."

There it is, that thousand watt smile you have come to love so much. You and about a million other fans. He takes a sip of his coffee, watching as you go about your business of tidying up, getting ready to close the diner. Cherry Pie leaves a ten on the counter and heads for the exit when he stops, doing a double take.

"Hey wait a minute! I know you. You're Clavis Lelouch!"

Clavis makes eye contact with you first and you give a small shrug. He comes in right before closing so that he doesn't draw attention but sometimes it's unavoidable.

"Guilty," he says with a short laugh.

Cherry Pie wipes his hands on his dirty jeans before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.

"Could I get a selfie?"

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Clavis graciously nods, getting up to go stand with the man. He gives his signature crooked smile and Cherry Pie grins from ear to ear as he takes the picture.

"Thanks man," he says as he looks at the picture proudly. "My buddies aren't going to believe I met Chevalier Michel's brother!"

Inwardly you wince, but Clavis's smile remains, unmoving as a mountain in a storm. This is not the first time he has been lashed with the name “Chevalier” and it certainly won’t be the last.

"Have a great night," he manages but Cherry Pie is already out the door, posting the picture to all of his social media accounts.

At that moment the chef pops his head around the corner.

"I'm heading out. You'll lock up? Oh hey Clavis."

Clavis slides back onto his stool and gives the chef a two-fingered salute.

"Hi Yves."

"Yeah, I'll lock up. See you Evie."

You hear the familiar sound of the diner's back door closing before you sigh, walking to turn the Open sign around to Closed before heading back over to your favorite customer.

"You better get going. If Pie Crust posts where he was when he took that selfie you're bound to get hounded by fans."

Clavis's gaze is focused on his drink. "Or paparazzi wanting to know about the damn wedding." He says it quietly but you feel the swell of his words, raw and tender and bruised. Pushing aside the straw, he lifts the glass to his lips and finishes the sweet coffee in several gulps. You've asked him in the past why he drinks coffee so late. He claims he doesn't sleep much anyway. Somehow that also strikes you as sad.

“Hey,” he says, his voice suddenly lighter, brighter, like a spotlight switched on to drown out the darkness. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Can I walk you home? You’ve mentioned you don’t live far from here.”

Surprise trips your heart yet again and you blink, momentarily wondering if you misheard. “But….what about your car?”

“I had my driver drop me off.” He slides a $50 on the counter and you know by now that he will refuse to take any change. The ridiculous amount of money left over is always tip for you.

“Alright, let me just finish closing. We can go out the back.”

He slides his Ray-Bans over his golden eyes, a cloud blocking the sun, and smiles.

The walk back to your apartment complex is exceedingly awkward. This is the first time you have ever been with him outside the diner and it feels like without a counter between you, you aren't sure what to do with yourself. Your limbs feel loose and uncontrolled like a puppet whose puppeteer has gone too lax with the strings.

Clavis is no help. He keeps his head down, probably out of force of habit, and follows your lead, for once quiet when you wish he wouldn’t be. You feel a slight twinge of embarrassment when you open the rusted gate of your apartment complex. There is a tiny courtyard with a few scraggly palm trees and a meager water fountain that looks like the Trevi….if someone had removed the tridents and horses and beaten up Oceanus.

Cheap blue and gold spotlights, badly hidden in the bushes, shine on the fountain and the chipped cement bench in front of it. You sit down pointedly on the bench, not about to actually ask a world-famous comedian inside your cluttered apartment, no matter how well you two get along. He follows your lead and settles down beside you.

"It's almost dark, you know." You nod toward his sunglasses and he reaches up, removing them with one hand. Why that movement makes your heart skip a beat is beyond you. Silently you tell it to pull itself together, focus on pumping blood and not falling over because Clavis removed his sunglasses in a movement as smooth as glass.

"This city is never dark," he mutters as he looks up at the sky which is slowly growing dim, but never quite enough that you can see the stars well.

You study his profile, the sharp line of his cheekbones, the point of his chin, those impossibly long lashes framing eyes the color of liquid gold. His brother may get all the attention but anyone who doesn't see the beauty in the man seated next to you is blind.

He finally tears his gaze away from the sky, and drops it to his hands which are fiddling with his sunglasses.

"So you know that Chev's premiere is in a week."

"Everyone knows that." Critics were practically salivating at the chance of seeing the great Chevalier Michel on screen again after the huge success of his last film, a modern interpretation of Richard III which earned Chevalier rave reviews and several high-profile awards.

Clavis opens and closes his sunglasses, his fingers moving with an almost elegant finesse, a stark contradiction to the comedian whose comedy relies heavily on silly pranks and self-deprecating anecdotes.

"I have to go. It's good publicity for the special and Sariel, being the good manager he is, suggested rather strongly that I don't show up to this alone, seeing as how it's also they’re first official outing since…." He stops for a second, as if he can't quite form the word without it getting caught in his throat. He tries again. "Since the engagement to Belle."

Hearing the supermodel's name brings a rush of images to mind, glossy photos of her and Clavis, the model and the funnyman. They were photographed everywhere, at all times, but no matter what they were doing, no matter how candid the shots, he was always smiling. Because he loved her. It was as clear as Maldivian waters how much he did. Whenever he had given an interview and had been asked about her, there was a luminous shine in his eyes. The pride he felt when she was on his arm at a premiere was written in the lines of his body, the curve of his arm around her. They were envied and idolized and everyone wanted to know more about the "Clavelle" love story.

Until, like so many fantasies, it fell apart, an explosion of glitter that turned to ashes at his feet when Belle met Chevalier.

They became the number one news item for months, the media painting Clavis as the broken-hearted clown who was forced to make way for the love story of the century. The world's most eligible bachelor, a man who had never shown any interest in anything other than his craft, falls for the beautiful, brown-eyed girl-next-door with her gentle laugh and million dollar smile. Never once was Chevalier painted as a villain for stealing his brother’s girlfriend. He was a star of the highest caliber, shining his light down from a distance none could touch.

Now, months later, the premiere would mark the first time all of them were in the same place at the same time.

Clavis removes his baseball cap, running a hand through his twilight hair. You fight the tingle in your fingers that wants to smooth it down again.

"Anyway Sariel thinks if I show up with a date it'll keep the media from continuing with the "sad brother" angle." He finally stops messing with his glasses and fixes his gaze on you. "I think he's right and I want you to be my date."

Your brain is filled with the sound of screeching tires as your heart yanks hard on the hand brake.

"Huh?" is your eloquent reply.

He laughs, but you see the way he is playing with the brim of his cap, fingers restless as dragonflies darting about a pond. He is as nervous asking you as you are shocked to hear it.

“I…..I like you. You listen and you’re really nice and you make a killer coffee. And while some attention is great, they won't push too hard about our story. The press isn’t as interested if I bring someone who isn’t famous. No offense.”

“None taken,” you say automatically, staring at him. The silence stretches out, like taffy. Thinner and thinner, longer and longer. Finally you break it.

“What if….do they ask questions? About how we met?”

He shakes his head, his eyes bright and eager when he realizes you are considering it.

“We’ll walk the red carpet, no questions or interviews. Just pose for some pictures and then hurry inside. Watch the stupid movie and then poof, we’re out of there. I’ll be going on tour soon anyway. No other public appearances like this lined up so it’s a one-time deal.” He looks so earnest, leaning toward you, his gaze wandering your face, searching for that one word he is hoping so hard you will utter.

How can you say anything but….

“Ok. Yes. I’ll do it.”

Why oh why did you agree to this?!

The wall of flashing lights. The photographers screaming like birds of prey, their voices thunderous and insistent, a drumming that never stops. A dress that costs more than your annual rent poured over your body. Shoes designed to look good first and ask questions about comfort later. Your hair smells like product, your skin feels like rubber under all the makeup. You feel unreal, like a doll someone props on a shelf, still in its box. A beautiful display.

Panic rears its ugly head, jaws unhinged, ready to swallow you whole.

And then you feel his arm wrap around your waist. A hand press reassuringly into your side against the sequins of your dress. A touch that is solid. Real.

He leans down, his mouth right next to your ear, the anchor in a sea of turbulent waters.

“Look at me, Bright Eyes. Just look at me.”

You turn your head, your gaze locking with his and ah, there he is, the same man who drinks his overly-sweet coffee while regaling you with side-splitting stories about his first gigs in seedy bars and smoky rooms. The man who once listened as you complained about your feet hurting and showed up the next day with a pair of cushy sneakers he swore he just happened to find in some leftover swag bag in his closet. The man who notices every other customer in the diner and makes up outrageous origin stories about them under his breath just to get you to laugh. Who truly wants to know everything about your sleazy cousin back home, your neighbor’s foul-mouthed parrot, and why it’s a crime to put ketchup on scrambled eggs.

He smiles and the bright lights melt into the background. The voices blend together becoming a subtle roar. He fills your vision and in this alien world, he steadies you and guides you, expertly, to safety.

You lean into him as you step inside the dark doorway to the theater where the movie will be screened and he keeps you pressed close to his side. Only when you are led to your seats does he remove his arm. You feel the loss of his touch so keenly, so suddenly it nearly takes your breath away….and makes the moment when he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers between yours on the armrest between your seats that much easier to accept.

It's for show, you tell yourself. Nothing else. Performance, like everything in this town.

And yet, the feel of his hand in yours warms your heart like the glowing embers of an autumn fire.

The lights go down, blanketing the audience in darkness. No one can see your joined hands now.

And yet, throughout the entire two hour saga, neither of you makes the first move to unlock your fingers and separate.

Behind the plastic, oversized, obnoxiously green potted plant is the perfect place to hide. Your mascara runs down your cheeks in black rivulets. You feel like there's a stone pressing down on your chest, your lungs barely able to expand and contract.

You know it was wrong to have left Clavis there, but when faced with humiliation, the ur-alt part of your brain said to run. And run you did.

It had gone swimmingly. The movie was brilliant. Begrudgingly you had to acknowledge that Chevalier was incredible. And Clavis had kept your hand in his the whole time. Your first premiere was a dream.

Until it began the slow descent into grotesque nightmare.

All it had taken was one producer who recognized you. A man, with whom your interaction was limited to a daily cappuccino, lowered the Gucci sunglasses he had been wearing indoors and yelled, "Yo! Waitress? Diner on Lakewood? That you?"

That had turned the heads of not only several glittering dresses and overpriced suits, but one head of white blond hair and an Arctic gaze.

It swung over to where you were standing, your hand on Clavis's arm, and you found yourself flattened under the heavy hammer of judgment in those cold blue eyes. Chevalier arched one beautiful brow and said before a room of admirers, his cool voice projecting across the crowd:

"Really, Clavis? A waitress?"

His tone was hard with icy disapproval and something edging close to contempt.

Around you others began to buzz, flies circling something offensive, something rotten. Their expressions burned into your mind, some disgusted, some partially curious. You could have handled them all if not for the flash of embarrassment that you caught on Clavis's face, lightning illuminating the sky of his features just a second before he slid his plastic smile in place and words of droll apathy rolled from his tongue.

But you had seen it, that look. He was embarrassed by you and it hurt, stung like salt in the open wound that lightning had burned across your heart. And so you had turned on your fancy heel and you had run.

And now you're hiding behind a fake plant, trying to stop the pain of hot humiliation running through your veins.

You don’t know how long you have been hiding there, trying to gather the courage to just walk away, when one of the large, plastic leaves is pulled back, leaving a tiny cloud of dust motes in its wake.

“Hi.”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze.

“Bright Eyes,” he says as he reaches out, tentatively taking your hand in his. This time there aren’t butterflies in your stomach, but the warning, angry hum of a swarm filling your mind.

He feels the change in you and drops your hand. Again silence as the man who talks for a living searches for the right words.

“I’d like to show you something,” he finally says, his voice gentler than you have ever heard it. “Please?” He holds his hand out one more time. You should reject him. You should walk out of there with your borrowed dress and cheap earrings and pretend you had never agreed to this charade.

But his eyes…..warm pools of melted gold, rich with hope that you will trust him one more time, draw you in, a moth to a golden flame. You wonder if Helios himself had gifted Clavis with those eyes, those twin flames that seem to burn you right to your core.

For the second time that night, you slid your hand into his and let him guide you.

He leads you away from the crowd, from the pack of glamorous wolves, through a maintenance door, to a stairwell of cement and iron, a utilitarian thing that leads you up and up and up…..until finally another set of doors, which he bursts through, you just a step behind him.

Your heels step onto gravel, your eyes are filled with an endless sky, muted by the glow of city lights. He turns, illuminated, and smiles.

“Better, right?”

He leads you to the roof’s ledge and drops your hand.

“Clavis, be careful!” He has perched himself onto the wide, cement border, and the sight of him with nothing behind him, just bright lights and cityscape, has you moving forward, hands held out in a gesture of instinctual protection. As you come close, he reaches for you, taking your hands in his and with a smile brighter than the famous Hollywood sign, he pulls you close.

You stare at one another, the sounds of the city floating up around you, the night sky wide and welcoming. Holding his hands feels good, like a key turning and unlocking a door with a satisfying click. You wonder if tonight something has unlocked between the two of you.

His thumbs move slowly over the tops of your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ve told you before he’s a real asshole.”

A sad, wobbly laugh leaves you on an exhale. “Lucky me got to see it firsthand.” You raise your gaze to his now and are surprised at the concern in his expression, the way his head is tilted, empathetic.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” The words are quiet and you feel the shame bubble up again, hot and undeniable. “I should have just told you no.”

His thumbs stop moving over your skin. He squeezes your hands for a moment as the warm wind stirs his dusky hair.

“You did not embarrass me, Bright Eyes. He did. He’s my brother and he has the nerve to–” Clavis stops speaking, letting the angry, bitter thing that had flared up fade away instead of elaborating and adding fuel to a fire that never quite burns out. He sighs and you feel the urge to touch his face, to soothe the lines of exhaustion you see there. “You,” he continues, “could never embarrass me.”

And then his hands pull gently, urging you to step closer. He’s tall enough that sitting, even with you in heels, you’re face to face. He releases one hand, reaching up to brush back your hair, wild strands that escaped your careful French twist. His eyes rival the neon glow of the city as they travel your face, his expression soft in a way you’ve never seen before.

He leans towards you.

“Are you sure?” Your words stop his movement, just inches away from you, quiet but solid as a wall. “He’s right. I’m just some waitress in a crappy diner on the edge of town who makes good coffee.”

A slight smirk, the one you have seen in many of his routines and publicity shots because it is so alluring, so captivating.

“Someone who can actually make good coffee is so hard to find,” he quips softly and you laugh, a breathless sound of nervousness and wonder. His grin widens at the sound. “There you are.” He nudges your nose with his. “Now, can we get on with the business of me kissing you?”

“If we have to,” you murmur and you feel the way his hand squeezes yours, the startled, delighted laugh that escapes him.

“You’re lucky you’re so lovely….” he sighs, his voice low and warm and just for your ears. He trails off and then without warning closes the distance between you and kisses you.

Your diner sells every type of pie imaginable. So many varieties of cookies, muffins, doughnuts and pastries. You’ve tasted them all. And not one of them comes close to the sweetness of kissing Clavis Lelouch. Despite his initiating things, his kiss feels almost shy. HIs lips are pressed against yours, cloying and warm, yet chaste. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you even closer. You slide your hands over his shoulders and then drape them around his neck.

The gentle kiss breaks like stardust and you sigh happily, your whole body thrumming with something exciting and sweet, like possibility has injected itself into your soul and lifted you up out of a mundane existence and given you wings. When you open your eyes, you find him watching you, his breathing quick as he shakes his head ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Worry prunes your feathers, anxiety stands ready to clip your newfound wings before you even take flight.

"I just-" He stops, his gaze moving over the planes of your face like he can't take you in fast enough, like a thirsty man gulping water, afraid it will be taken from his grasp at any moment. "I'm kind of a mess, Bright Eyes. The things I joke about, the family drama and how I feel about him and always trying to live up to what people expect…" The words tumble out, too fast and all at once, a pitcher spilling all of its content as it falls to the ground, about to break.

You tighten your arms around him, stop him from crashing.

"Hey…." You lean forward, touching his forehead with your own. "Everyone is messy."

His golden-hour eyes close. "There's a lot of baggage that comes with dating me. I don't know why you'd want to." His voice is barely a whisper, almost lost in the muted sound of traffic far below.

You nudge his nose with yours, getting him to open his eyes. What he sees is your smile, the one that brought him back to the diner again and again and again.

"Because you're the best tipper I've ever had," you answer wryly.

Again he laughs, pulled from the shadows of his own mind by your humor, your light. He slides off the ledge, keeping you within the circle of his arms.

"It's not going to be easy," he murmurs as he leans down, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of kisses.

"So what," you whisper back, head tipped back, eyes already closed. Again his lips touch yours, light and sweet and quick.

"You're not worried," he says against your lips, the words warm and soft.

"Not in the slightest," you manage before you rise up onto your toes and press your lips firmly to his, forcing him to accept the fact that all the monsters he thinks he is sheltering don't scare you in the least. You grasp the back of his neck with one hand and part your lips in invitation. Let me in. Let me love you.

He accepts and on his lips you taste the sweet thrill of a new beginner, his tongue and yours writing the first words of a new chapter for you both.

As you hold each other under the glow of bright lights and dim stars, you find your heart lifting with joy.

Maybe in Hollywood, some dreams really do come true.

🎥

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen clavis #ikepri clavis #clavis lelouch #clavis x reader #hollywood au #fluff #angst #first kiss #500 follower celebration #violettwrites

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 1 year

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The Darkhold Sonata (Agatha Harkness x Wanda Maximoff)

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: Legendary film composer Agatha Harkness is given a new challenge when she’s asked to help Wanda Maximoff with the score for Stephen Strange’s newest movie.

A/N: Hi tumblr friends, I’m back with a new story! This was inspired by The Batman soundtrack, I love Michael Giacchino, and I think the overall ‘vibe’ is very Agatha coded. I’ve included the link to one of the songs that this story is based off of :) Anyways, I am not a composer or pianist so please keep that in mind while reading, but I hope y’all enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts and as always my DM’s and asks are always open for questions! Oh, and if you would like to be added to the tag list please lemme know :)

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The sound of thunderous applause roared throughout the packed Hollywood Bowl as Agatha took her final bow. Although she had been apprehensive at first of the LA Symphony’s idea of a “Maestra of the Movies” concert, she wasn’t displeased with the outcome. The concert sold out within hours, as many anxiously awaited the chance to hear some of her greatest compositions performed live. It was a fascinating experience, conducting her life’s work all at once; while she stood by every decision she ever made, it was interesting to watch her work progress over the years. From Academy Award winning scores to Grammy nominated soundtracks, Agatha Harkness knew she was the most decorated film composer the world had seen in decades.

Coming off her fifth Oscar win, Agatha made the difficult decision to take the next year off. There was a project she had waited years to start, and it would be near impossible to finish with some insipid director throwing deadlines at her. Exiting the stage, Agatha skillfully dodged members of the press who were hoping to get a quote, and she almost winced upon hearing the word ‘retirement.’ As her eyes scanned the crowd gathering backstage, she spotted the one individual who knew what she was working on. Stephen Strange. She figured he would be in attendance this evening. After all, most of the themes played were composed for his films.

Stephen Strange was one of the few directors Agatha could tolerate working with- even though he had an ego almost as big as her’s, they seemed to balance each other out. While most directors expected the score to fit the script, Stephen would always take Agatha’s opinions into consideration; although Agatha would usually bite the head off any director who tried to give a suggestion on what could be added to her music, Stephen gave constructive feedback that she could tolerate. They worked well together, and they had worked almost exclusively together for the past decade on various projects. It was also no secret that Stephen was struggling to find a new composer for his latest film, with Agatha taking her long sought hiatus.

“Strange,” Agatha greeted the director. “I didn’t realize you were coming.“

“And miss hearing the scores for most of my movies?” Stephen countered as a small smirk formed on his face.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “I believe you mean hearing the music that was accompanied by your homemade videos.”

Stephen laughed, shaking his head at the jab. “It’s good to see you, Agatha. Although, I’m surprised you agreed to this.” He motioned to the large crowd. “This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

Agatha frowned at the number of people that were accumulating. She had always been a private person, and tried to avoid the public eye as much as possible, a fact that Stephen knew well. “It’s not, but this is my life’s work. I couldn’t just trust someone else with it.”

“Not that you trust anyone with anything,” Stephen quipped, and Agatha sighed.

“Yes, yes, very funny. Now I’m assuming you didn’t drive all the way over here to just mock me, hm?” Agatha questioned, before adding. “It is rather presumptuous of me to assume you drove at all. Did you take the private jet again? God forbid you sit in an hour of traffic like the rest of us mere peasants.”

“You really don’t get nearly enough credit for your wit,” Stephen commented lightly, and Agatha noted how he was avoiding her question of why he was here. “But then again, you do spend most of your time locked away with only your piano to keep you company.”

“Yet I still have one more Academy Award than you,” Agatha fired out, as she motioned for the director to follow her to her dressing room. “Perhaps you should reconsider those month-long vacations in Europe.”

Upon reaching her dressing room, Agatha all but slammed the door shut. “Why are you really here?”

Stephen took a seat in an empty armchair before replying. “Agatha, you’re the most successful composer in the industry. You know I’ve enjoyed our time working together over the years.”

Stephen was right, Agatha had worked with him for a long time. They had their fair share of victories, with almost every recent project resulting in an Academy Award win. That was why Agatha knew he wanted something. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. It wasn’t a surprise, everyone in Hollywood was always looking for favors. She could list off the number of directors and actors who had tried to convince her to give their children piano or composition lessons. But what could Stephen possibly want? He knew Agatha was taking the year to work on an independent project, and he knew better than to push her; it never ended well for those who tried.

Agatha took a seat across from the director, folding her hands in her lap. “And you know I don’t need, or want, your help to inflate my ego. What do you want, Strange?”

“I found a composer for the film,” Stephen explained, pulling a folder out of his bag, sliding it across the table. “She has a similar style to you, actually, which is why I chose her. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, she’s become quite popular in Europe. Here’s what she wrote for the main character’s theme.”

Opening the folder, Agatha’s eyes scanned the score and she scowled when she saw it. Wanda Maximoff. Of course. Agatha had heard plenty of the Sokovian composer, and she wasn’t impressed. She was a newer composer on the scene, but she had become rather well established over the past five years. Though Wanda seemed to grasp the most basic composition skills, Agatha felt that she always fell flat in comparison to the work of other film composers. “Why are you showing me this, Stephen? We both know I’m not working on this film.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time, Agatha,” Stephen stated, and in the many years Agatha had been acquainted with the director this had to be the first time he appeared to be nervous. “And you know I wouldn’t be coming to you if I thought I had other options.”

“Spit it out,” Agatha practically growled, her patience wearing down. She needed a drink.

“Wanda is gifted, and I have no doubt that she’s going to excel at this. But I chose this project with you in mind,” Stephen continued, and Agatha attempted to envision where he was going with this. “I was hoping you would consider looking over her progress with the score, to make sure she’s on the right track? This film has the potential to make it all the way through awards season, and this could be monumental for me.”

Agatha took a moment to consider his request before repeating her earlier words. “But I’m not working on the film, how does this benefit me? What, I help this Sokovian princess compose a breathtaking score and she gets all the credit?”

“Wanda has the potential to be a fresh talent in Hollywood,” Stephen pointed out. “If she succeeds, and everyone knows you were backing her, well that certainly wouldn’t hurt your reputation, right?”

“I don’t need a pat on the back from anyone, and I’m not grooming her. Find someone else. Maybe Stark or one of his lackeys.”

“Agatha,” Stephen rubbed his temple, and Agatha could tell he was growing tired of this argument. “I’m coming to you as a friend. I’m asking you, as my friend, to help me. Please, will you work with Wanda on the score?”

It wasn’t like Stephen to ask anyone for help, and Agatha knew he was serious about the potentially astounding success this movie held. Although Agatha would never, ever, admit it out loud, Stephen was one of the few people in this industry whom she trusted; he was her friend.

Sighing, Agatha finally nodded. “Fine. Send her to my studio on Monday morning. I’ll look over the score then.”

Before Stephen could get another word in she added. “And you’re buying me a drink. Let’s go.”

That Monday morning Agatha entered her private studio with a large cup of coffee- she had had a small studio built on her property a few years ago, and she personally thought it was one of the best decisions she ever made. The studio was well lit, with lots of windows and light shining in, framing the grand piano in the main room, where Agatha did most of her writing. The walls were lined with her awards, an almost overwhelming amount at this point. She had a small kitchen installed as well, for the days where she was so focused on a project and didn’t want to walk back to the house. Finishing her coffee, she sat at the piano and decided to get to work until Wanda showed up.

The only time Agatha felt at peace was when she was composing music. She always had dozens of themes and melodies floating around her head, playing on a loop, and the only way to get them out was by sitting at the piano and figuring out how to construct them. While a lot of the newer composers preferred online software, Agatha swore by doing everything by hand. It was the only right way to do it, as she didn’t believe it to be possible to feel the music if you were doing it through a screen. Composing had always come naturally to Agatha, and she never had any difficulty finishing a project, except for the one she was currently trying to work through.

The staff paper was nearly blank, as it had remained for almost a decade. It was untitled, and besides the key signature scribbled in her messy scrawl, the only writing was a short phrase that came to her in a dream. Every time she tried to add on to it, to continue the phrase or begin a new one, she was unable to. She was stuck, and it was a complicated puzzle she was intent on solving. Usually when she had difficulties writing for a film, she would watch over the scene and take notes, all while the various themes began to form in her brain. That was easy. But she had never experienced this mental block before.

Checking the time on her Cartier watch, Agatha shook her head at how late Wanda was before focusing her attention on her music. Attempting to find some inspiration, she began playing various riffs and chords on the piano in the key of B-flat minor. Composing was a lot like telling a story, and each part held equal importance. The introduction had to lure the audience in, and be captivating enough to make them want more. However, it was essential to not show all of your cards at once. Throughout the middle it was important to maintain a constant pulse, for falling off rhythm would be both distressing to the musicians reading the music, as well as potentially derailing the entire film. The ending was arguably the most difficult- wrapping things up in a way that made it cohesive was never easy. On top of that, it was fundamental to incorporate the main themes heard throughout the score, all while making sure it fit the director’s vision.

When Agatha thought of the composers who inspired her work, there were a few that immediately came to mind. There was Mahler, of course. The way he wrote his symphonies made it feel as if the music he was writing was coming to life off the page. Tchaikovsky made Agatha think of beautiful, soaring melodies that left an audience teary eyed. His works brought out the deepest emotions in both the performer and listener. Then there was Shostakovich. His abrupt contrasts in his music, and darker themes were intoxicating. There were others, of course. Holst, Sibelius, Beethoven, and at least a dozen others that Agatha studied over the years. But there was something special about the former three, something that resonated with Agatha.

Taking a deep breath, the composer closed her eyes as her fingers moved over the keys. Visualizing the notes, she tried to channel what she was feeling. Normally, Agatha was by no means an overly emotional person; she saved it all for her compositions, whose intensity she was renowned for. To her, it was crucial that no matter the level of musical expertise the audience held,that they were able to be overcome with whatever emotion Agatha wanted them to feel. That was the power of music. Even in a huge blockbuster filled with adventure and wonder, one of the shining features should be the tantalizing orchestral melodies, or the blaring trumpet solo.

As her fingers hit the keys, Agatha fell into the rhythm of the slow melody. The untitled piece was currently in a compound meter, labeled as a 6/8 time signature. That put an emphasis on the feeling of two big beats, so as she began her lethargic triplets, she was silently counting them to stay steady. The main melodic line was a phrase that Agatha played in a dream. It was full of hope and longing, and seemed to slowly lead further and further until it disappeared. The other times she had attempted to add on to it were futile, until today. Today she knew how to build onto the existing phrase, and lead into the next. Just as she was able to fully envision where she wanted to go, there was a knock on the door.

Of course. Huffing at the interruption, Agatha scrapped the piano bench across the wooden floor, yanking the door to her studio open. There in front of her stood an annoyed looking Wanda Maximoff. About time she showed up. The Sokovian composer’s messy auburn hair was pulled back, and she was dressed comfortably in jeans and a sweater. For the briefest of moments Agatha was stunned at how pretty she was. Wanda had a deep frown on her face, and her eyes kept darting back and forth as if she was annoyed with being there.

“You’re late,” Agatha said in lieu of a greeting, holding her arm out in invitation for Wanda to enter.

“You never gave Stephen a time,” Wanda corrected her, and Agatha frowned as the younger woman brushed past her. “Should we get this over with?”

Agatha was stunned at her tone, what exactly was Wanda annoyed by? She should be thrilled that Agatha wanted to work with her at all, as Agatha could think of a dozen other things she’d rather be doing. Leading the redhead through her quaint studio, she took a seat at the table. Wanda followed suit, and set her leather work bag down next to her. Agatha assumed the polite hostess greeting would be to offer Wanda a drink, but the composer saw no point in that. She was the one who wanted to get this over with, not Wanda.

“Stephen mentioned you finished the main character’s theme,” Agatha said conversationally, trying to keep her tone as polite as possible.

Wanda gave a small nod. “He said you looked at it over the weekend.”

Despite only being in Wanda’s presence for a few minutes, Agatha was beginning to get the feeling that the woman was about as thrilled as she was to be in this situation. “I glanced at it, and it was good. Perhaps I could take a look at the rest of it?”

Wanda opened her bag and pulled out her laptop, and Agatha grimaced. Of course she was using her computer. Wanda noticed the frown, and looked up at her. “Is something the matter?“

“No, no,” Agatha replied, thinking of the multiple favors Stephen Strange was going to owe her after this. “Carry on.”

After taking a few moments to get her score pulled up, Wanda slid the laptop across the table for Agatha to grab it. The composer took one look at the score and frowned again. She read it slowly, looking over each measure Wanda had completed, all the while making mental notes for things she would change. It wasn’t bad, not bad at all. Wanda was talented, Stephen was right. But she was sloppy at times. There were certain instrumental parts and phrases that didn’t quite fit together in some areas. Luckily that was something that could be resolved, as long as Wanda put in more effort. When Agatha was done, she closed the laptop, and was immediately met with Wanda staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“It’s not bad,” Agatha politely stated, still keeping her tone in check. “There are just a few things that could use tweaking. I’d suggest adding in more strings in the beginning, and perhaps more accents to emphasize certain notes.”

Wanda gave her an incredulous look. “Stephen said you were just going to look at everything, not that you would be making changes to my work.”

Any patience Agatha had left disappeared at that point. “I’m sorry if this is news to you, Maximoff, but constructive criticism is a big part of composition.”

“This wasn’t my idea to come here and work with you,” Wanda pointed out, growing more defensive. “I didn’t sign up to have my work torn apart by a has-been composer.”

Agatha could feel her blood boil at that statement. How dare that ungrateful imbecile even think to say that to her. Seething, she stood up, heading over to the grand piano. “Get out of my studio. Now.”

Wanda left without another word, whilst Agatha stewed at the piano, hoping that would be the last interaction she ever had with Wanda Maximoff.

#agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #agatha wandavision #wandavision au #marvel au

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middlefingeronbackspace · 1 month

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3/25/24 – “Ever after”

From this point on – what does that look like for me? At twenty-seven, seventy-seven days to twenty-eight it looks really simple. Financial stability, a man who loves me through action, and two healthy children, preferably two girls. Unfortunately, under late capitalism that is asking for a lot. I could move to middle America and call it a wrap, but my family and community are here. The California lemon drop of a sun is here and nowhere else.

I suppose at twenty-three I was okay with moving to the Midwest, to a much cheaper part of the country and living with my envisioned fiancé and his palm-colored family that might not like me at first, but they’d love me eventually. Needless to say, that didn’t work as I hoped. They were God fearing and I had a healthy fear of religion. I did see an ever after though, as much as it may embarrass me now. A life in a nice big house with no backyard fences and endless street parties. My little girls would have ribbons in their hair, and we’d go to church with their daddy and if they ever expressed that they weren’t certain on how they felt about God, I’d tell them that it was okay. That their mommy had an ill relationship with that man since she was five years old. With that fantasy coming in and out of my mind I finally decided that I didn’t really love him. He was a youth leader at his church, and I dressed up as the devil as often as I could. What I did love was the thought of being far from my mother and snatching someone everyone thought was desirable – including my mother. Well except for me, when I really looked at him, he made me angry.

Between the ages of twenty and twenty-two ever after was becoming a very successful writer, maybe an installation artist, I’d so charismatic that I’d make friends everywhere I went and someone would eventually ask me to star in their indie film. The movie would do better than expected and I’d be nominated for an Oscar. I wouldn’t win, one of the many seasoned actresses would take the little gold man home, but goodness! What a milestone just to be nominated. Then I’d get really drunk at one of the after parties, not yellow pole drunk or dry humping drunk, just drunk enough to be dancing on the floor. Someone would insist we did karaoke and I’d be invited to the mic. Then bam! Music career. I’d never be rich – I haven’t believed in being rich for some time now – but I’d be well off. I’d donate to charities and eventually settle down with someone. We’d have two little girls and live in the California mountains.

At eighteen after my first major heartbreak and several overdoses I thought ever after would be living in a shack sized house by the beach with nothing but some tattered clothes and my laptop to write. I’d wake up every morning, smoke a cigarette and enjoy a cup of coffee. I’d walk around, have small talk with the people in the community. If the weather permitted, I’d take a dip into the ocean and think about how lovely and empty the universe really is. Then I’d grab something from the cheapest eatery – not my favorite, just the cheapest – and I’d speak to the owner. We’d be really good friends, but they wouldn’t know that I got food poisoning from their shop three times in the last year. I’d go home, have an evening glass of coffee because I am Salvadorian at the end of the day and have one last cigarette. (I more than likely had five while I was out.) I’d write on a piece of scrap paper to get more cigarettes and to call Taylor back. Taylor would be one of the many men I was having a love affair with. In this scenario I wasn’t sure what kind of writer I’d be, just that I’d be one and I’d have enough money to live in a shack sized house by the beach.

I realized that I had an unhealthy desire to be something no one could catch but would dream of constantly. That was simply because I had been heartbroken, and I wanted to break anything that slightly resembled a heart.

I suppose ultimately ever after still looks the same. Stability, love, and two children that can be of any gender as long as they have their health. To be able to stay close to my family and friends. To not die wishing for more and being very appreciative of everything I got. To be happy.

#writing prompt #march #writing #entry #ever after #heart break #salvadorian #beach #love #write #mommy issues

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dweemeister · 3 months

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Sending out Oscar nomination eve vibes

First things first, as a fan of the human chaos that is the Academy Awards, viewing films primarily through the prism of awards is one of the most myopic ways to look at movies. That there is a whole sub-industry of journalism dedicated to awards horse racing and campaigning never ceases to amaze me - even though I must admit to consuming said journalism (or "journalism").

Going into and out of a screening with "I wonder what this could get nominated for?" as the first thing in your mind is not how anyone should absorb and analyze a film. Awards are for the industry, sure, but they're also markers of taste for a certain group of people at a moment in time. They're good entryways into budding film buffs. Awards are fun; don't try to get too emotionally involved in them.

Okay, putting that aside and fully realizing some of the below will sound hypocritical, I begin with some extremely unlikely stuff I would like to see tomorrow morning, but probably won't happen at all...

That despite the highly questionable 2017 move to take away sole nominating power for Best Animated Feature from the Short Films and Feature Animation Branch (I'm guessing the Academy at-large got sick and tired of the category featuring films they hadn't seen/refused to see), I hope those who opted into voting on Best Animated Feature nominees looked beyond the major American and Japanese animation studios. Did Robot Dreams catch their eye (this was a major hit in its native Spain and France)? Maybe Perlimps (directed by Ale Abreu, who did Boy & the World)? Ernest & Celestine: A Trip to Gibberitia (which I admit I truly enjoyed, although I still hold the original in much higher esteem)? My Love Affair with Marriage? What about The Peasants (directed by the same team who gave us Loving Vincent)? I hope they took the time to give those films a watch, their due justice. If they don't get nominated because they didn't deserve, that's okay. But I want voters (and everyone out there) to realize the world of animation is much more than Disney/Pixar/DreamWorks/Illumination/Netflix/Sony and Studio Ghibli/Toei/Toho Company. There is so much more out there.

That Justine Triet is nominated for Best Director for Anatomy of a Fall. Give us Milo Machado Graner as a Supporting Actor nominee, too.

Another child actor in the acting categories, please. No one pins a 30-year-old Asian American male as a fan of Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. I read the book (one of the few major Judy Blume books I had never read) last year, and adored the film adaptation. But, in realization that I don't think the film is good enough for Best Picture... how about a Best Actress nod for Abby Ryder Fortson? She embodies Margaret beautifully, and strengthens this adaptation with a mature performance. She deserves it solely for escaping the Ant-Man series and not being involved in Quantumania. On another note, Rachel McAdams has taken all of the headlines for Margaret. She's fine, but I completely disagreed with her character's expanded presence in the film, as it took away from Margaret (Blume's book is entirely from Margaret's perspective).

Dominic Sessa. Supporting Actor for The Holdovers. Make it happen, please.

I haven't seen it. And this is a bit self-serving, professionally. But as the Artistic Director for Viet Film Fest, if Trần Anh Hùng's The Taste of Things is indeed deserving of a Best International Feature nomination (which, by looking at reviews, surely sounds like the case), I hope that voters do not punish the film for taking France's spot in Best International Feature instead of Anatomy of a Fall. I think the French believed that The Taste of Things represented French culture better than Anatomy of a Fall, and wanted to spread the love among potential Oscar contenders. Nevertheless, there's been a kerfuffle since France announced Trần Anh Hùng's film as their International Feature pick. Let's put that controversy aside, please.

That actors reward performances that are "showy" and nuanced. I feel like the Discourse over the last two years have been to reward maximalist performances in maximalist movies.

That voters in the music branch stop giving into the trends of amelodic, atonal, and minimalistic film scores (I'll even thrown in film scores that prioritize a "vibe" or "beat" over anything else, truly any score that is meant "not to be noticed"). We're in a moment now where younger directors (and certain auteurs who clearly have limited knowledge in the power of great melodic film music) are telling their composers - some of whom are incredibly capable artists, others not so much - that melody is old-fashioned, has no place in modern "realistic" cinema, and belongs only in musicals and animation. As a pianist/violinist who isn't that good at all and was classically trained through high school, this hurts deep. Don't be so afraid of a gorgeous melody and what it can provide to even movies aiming for realism. If the reactions as I was leaving The Zone of Interest and Poor Things the other nights were any indication, I'm becoming a endangered minority. Perhaps they should ship me to a museum so I can listen to my outdated film scores.

Am I still hurting from the sonic trash that was All Quiet's Best Original Score win last year? You bet.

Godzilla Minus One shocks us all and gets a nomination. Somewhere. Anywhere. Visual Effects? Yes please. Best Picture? Ehh, probably not, but if somehow made it, this kaiju fan would be very happy.

Okay, now for more likely things that'll happen. Some vibes need to go that way too, even if I'm a little more comfortable about the following.

That Killers of the Flower Moon can weather what appears to be a lack of support outside the United States - I get it, many non-Americans are tired of American cinema's racial reckonings on-screen - and solidly find its nominations for Picture, Director, Actress (Gladstone), Supporting Actor (De Niro), Screenplay, Cinematography, Editing, Costume Design, Production Design. Anything beyond that is a luxury to me - I waffle on the deservedness of Leonardo DiCaprio's performance and I disapprove recent trends in how AMPAS perceives what constitutes a worthy score.

That even though I personally don't think Barbie deserves to be nominated for any of the big awards, I hope it does well in the technical categories it deserves (Cinematography, Editing, Song, Costume Design, Production Design, and Visual Effects). Even if it gets nominated for Best Picture (which I think is a 90% chance right now), I don't mind at all.

Past Lives love. Celine Song? Greta Lee? Teo Yoo?

I think American Fiction is dancing 50/50 on all of its potential nominations right now. At least get Jeffrey Wright in for Actor and Cord Jefferson for Screenplay. Picture and anything else a luxury.

That the Short Film and Feature Animation Branch doesn't confuse professionally edited home movies with a worthy documentary short. Please stop.

For the record, yours truly is on Team Killers of the Flower Moon. And right now? I'm expecting the film to perform like Scorsese's The Irishman (2019) on Oscar night.

There's... a major contender of a film or two out there I'd like to see not do so well on nominations because I did not care for them (Oppenheimer is not one of them, as I think it mostly deserves the nominations that appear to be headed its way... winning those boatload of nominations, though? hmm). Those one or two films shall go nameless so as not to jinx anything. But perhaps you already parsed them out by reading the above.