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pucksandpower · 6 months

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Breaking Point

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in

“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”

Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”

“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”

Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”

“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”

Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”

“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”

A deep silence settles.

The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”

“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”

Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.

Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”

Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”

Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”

Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”

Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”

The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.

Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”

Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”

He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.

***

Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.

“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.

Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.

A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”

“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

He listens closely.

“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”

He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.

“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”

Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.

“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”

A long pause.

“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”

He sighs.

“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”

Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.

“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”

There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”

***

“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.

“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.

“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.

Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”

You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”

Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”

“Tomorrow morning, early.”

She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”

“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”

Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”

Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”

You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”

***

The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.

“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”

There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.

“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”

Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”

“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”

You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”

Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.

You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”

One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”

Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”

Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”

An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”

You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”

Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”

“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”

Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”

Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”

You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”

Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”

There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”

You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”

Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”

You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”

You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”

With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.

***

You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.

“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.

His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”

“Are you okay?”

He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”

You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”

You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”

Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”

You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”

He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”

You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”

A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”

You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”

He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”

***

Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.

“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”

Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.

“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”

Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.

Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”

There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.

Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”

Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”

Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”

You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”

As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.

There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.

Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.

Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”

He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”

As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.

The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.

The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.

Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”

The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.

***

“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”

Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”

You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”

His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”

You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”

You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”

By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.

“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”

Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”

The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.

“This is anyone’s game,” Marit says, examining the track layout.

Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.

As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.

Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.

“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”

You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”

***

“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.

“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”

“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”

Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”

“That’s the plan.”

Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”

Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.

One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”

You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”

He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”

Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”

You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”

Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”

The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.

Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.

Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”

You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?

***

r/formula1

Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago

First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?

RedFever · 6 hours ago

This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!

PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago

Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!

***

You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.

“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”

Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”

You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”

The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.

Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.

The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.

The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.

However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.

Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.

As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.

He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”

“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”

He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”

And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.

The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.

As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.

As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.

***

“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.

You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.

“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.

The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.

“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.

From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.

“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.

And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.

The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.

***

Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.

“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.

Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.

And then he’s lined up on the front row.

The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.

The race is on.

Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.

“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.

As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.

“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.

The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.

Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.

The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.

The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.

“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”

Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”

The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.

He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.

Things are different now.

***

“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.

Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”

As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.

The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.

Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”

You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The two of you dance, losing track of time.

The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.

Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”

“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”

You swallow hard. “I do.”

He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.

Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.

Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”

He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”

You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”

***

Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.

But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.

In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.

Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.

True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.

Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.

The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.

At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.

Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.

***

The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.

You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.

“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.

“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”

He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”

“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”

That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.

“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”

The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.

As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”

You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”

Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”

You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”

***

The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.

“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.

You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”

And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.

And then, Monza.

Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.

“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”

“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”

Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.

“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.

“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”

And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.

Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.

“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.

The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.

“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.

Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.

“Last lap. Bring it home!”

And he does.

As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.

From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”

He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”

***

The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.

And then you find yourselves in Texas.

“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.

“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”

Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.

“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”

He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”

You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”

Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”

“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.

He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”

***

The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.

“You ready for this?”

His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”

Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.

“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.

Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.

Pole position for the second season in a row.

Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”

The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.

“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.

“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.

A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.

“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.

“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.

You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”

It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.

“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”

The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.

“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.

Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”

In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.

“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”

Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”

In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”

Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.

The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.

You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.

***

The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.

Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”

“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”

As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.

Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”

He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”

You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.

That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”

You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”

He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”

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emmathompsonegot · 2 years

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Should I join the early music choir

#I’d like to #but I’m not sure how committed I am to singing Only early music #also they’re working with an interim director right now #other option is just to join the school choir #whose director Kicks Ass #but who has very different taste in rep than I do lol #he’s got that mediocre music by living composers bug #mine

0 notes

oncomingnight · 9 months

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Yandere! Artist

Lorenzo was an incredibly well-groomed man. Only ever wearing the best tailored suits, minimalistic patterned ties and perfectly polished loafers. His mindset and obsessive tendencies completely contradict his organized persona.

A vast array of his works are just murals and life-sized portraits of you. Never in his life has he seen such an undeniable beauty like you, the closest anyone else other than him will get to admiring you is on the canvas. The two of you will be at the opening of one of his exhibitions watching everyone stand and stare at his works of you, it's an odd feeling but it's nice to witness how extensive his love for you is.

It's not that rare of an occurrence for someone to approach the both of you in public and start the conversation off with:

"So, the man and woman of the hour!"

Lorenzo has several works of his that he'll never allow anyone see, he keeps them a secret from the public eye. These private crafts consist of ceramic forms of your naked body, he never creates them for sexual pleasure but more so to admire every little crease and mark on your body when you're not there with him. He's also not known for ceramics but rather paintings in the style of impressionism and realism.

He has a friend group filled with people that are involved in the art scene, like, poets, architects, film directors, song artists and other well known painters. His presence in the art scene is pretty prominent as he's had books and articles written about his work and the supposed meanings behind them. When other artists are being interviewed and the topic of inspirations is brought up, his name is dropped all of the time.

Lorenzo grew up on a farm in a little agricultural town. He got used to churning butter, helping his father determine which produce was ripe, cutting homegrown vegetables on a creaky wooden table. He enjoyed this upbringing as it prepared him to make his own meals with what he had and how to grow food the correct way. Now, as he moved away from the countryside and into an immensely populated city, he always drives downtown to the farmers' market to not only get a sense of home but to get his groceries in a reliable space.

His love languages are all five of them; quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts and physical touch. During the most unexpected moments, he will place a framed portrait of you that he painted with the upmost attention in your hands. He will take you on a day-long trip to an area that you mindlessly mentioned of wanting to visit, taking you on a shopping spree to purchase anything you want and maybe he'll purchase an Italian leather jacket for himself.

Lorenzo really enjoys reading books but the genres he favors the most are philosophy, auto-biographies and (art) history.

He is an incredibly classy and proper man so when it comes to confronting somebody, he uses knowledge and soft insults to shoot them down. The two of you were at an opera that Lorenzo had dragged you to, and when a singer that was previously flirting with you walked on stage, he couldn't hide his disdain for the man. Lorenzo began critiquing their shrilling voice and off-key notes

"Isn't he supposed to be an alto? He's practically yelling as if it's spring break and he's a school boy." "Rossini didn't compose it that way, why did they alter it?" "My goodness, we should've never came, come, let's leave."

He can be a bit petty but there's no limits to the things he'd do for you.

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saerotonins · 6 months

Text

actor!satoru headcanons

ft. gojo satoru x reader

content warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, implied gojo satoru x reader

wc: 573

jjk actor au masterlist

as an actor:

when he became a rising actor, many people found out that his parents' names were also big in the acting industry

people immediately assumed that he's just a nepo baby with no talent and only got to where he is due to his parents' wealth and fame

but boy did he prove them WRONG

he's actually so good at his craft that his acting captivated many people

people are also shocked that he studied and actually has a bachelor's degree in fine arts

so yeah, this man is EDUCATED

a fun fact that many didn't believe is that he wasn't actually even supposed to be an actor and only wanted to help produce and even create his own films

but when he helped producing a film, the director thought he would be a good eye candy on screen and encouraged him to try acting

he first landed some minor roles until more and more people paid attention to him, which helped him unleash his full potential as an actor

if you think he's goofy and silly in jjk, you best believe he is even MORE silly and goofy irl 😭

but he's literally the sunshine of the set so his goofiness really helps in easing the stress of his co-stars and the filming crew

if nanami's the one bringing drinks to the set, he's the one who brings TOO MANY sweets, specifically mochis

it's also ones that are really expensive too like

doesn't drink coffee because he hates the bitter taste of it, maybe he'll drink one if it's sweet enough (aka doesn't taste like coffee at all), so nanami only buys him fruit teas and frappes LOL

he's also a detail-oriented man so his acting is really GOD TIER and is really keen on nailing every subtle detail whenever he is on screen

definitely very active on ig LOL acts like it's a dump account and is very interactive with his fans in the comment section

his ig composed of various selfies, photo dumps, promotions, his s/o, and definitely a lot of foods

i'd like to think that he also has his youtube channel as well

he posts vlogs and some behind the scenes when he's shooting a drama or magazine shoots

tries, keyword: tries, not to show spoilers

pls save the directors from him for almost having heart attacks

as a boyfriend:

he really likes to tease you by making you help him practice his lines that needs him to use his hottest voice like bae, FOCUS

he also practices the fight scenes with you btw

but he's REALLY annoying about it please

remember that jogo scene? no, the one in shibuya

yeah, he made you feel his entire length like WOAH THERE DUDE? that ain't on the script for sure 😭

also comes home really late but makes up by cuddling you extra longer in the mornings

borrows your lip glosses and takes them to the set because he refuses to buy one and that "it makes your bond as a couple grow stronger" istg

now you know why his lips always look like that on screen LOL

puts them on right before going to the shoot so he can kiss you good with his glossy lips

#gojo fluff #jjk actor au #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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popopretty · 4 months

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[Translation] Asagiri Kafka's afterwords for The Day I Picked up Dazai novel

Normally, afterwords would be the last thing I read in a novel, but as there are not many changes to the published novel this time compared to the movie bonus version, I was able to skim through the text quickly and get to this. And to be honest, despite not being a writer myself, I was so moved by Asagiri's views about writing and his characters that he shared in the afterwords, that I had to sit down and translate it right away.

This is just my crappy translation, as usual, but I hope it gave you a short, interesting look into the author and the characters. And please do not forget to buy the novel if you have the chance.

The translation is under the cut, thank you!

It has been a while. This is Asagiri Kafka.

Have you been enjoying Bungou Stray Dogs?

This novel, “The Day I Picked up Dazai”, is a compilation of the first week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side A” and the second week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side B” for the screening of “Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST” movie (hereinafter referred to as “BEAST”).

Normally, it is difficult to publish a bonus like this, but since "BEAST” and “Fifteen” that were published earlier by BEANS Bunko were originally bonus novels too, "The Day I Picked up Dazai” was also published in the same way, thanks to the efforts of all parties involved in the Bungou Stray Dogs series.

It is the story of Dazai and Odasaku’s first meeting, where Dazai who wants to die, collapsed in front of Odasaku’s place, who is neither a mafioso nor a hit man.

Why are there two different stores, Side A and Sode B? Regarding this question, please read the novel and see for yourself. If you keep in mind that this is the bonus for the BEAST movie, I think you will be able to understand it better.

Let me reminisce a little bit here.

This story was actually suggested to me by Igarashi Takuya, Director of the Bungou Stray Dogs anime.

Shortly before BEAST movie premiered, I was struggling. It was because I was asked to write a bonus novel for movie-goers again. I said “again” because, as I mentioned earlier, BEAST itself was a bonus novel for the Bungou Stray Dogs DEAD APPLE movie. I remembered having a hard time writing it, because I let myself run wild and wrote a total of 190 pages instead of 50 pages as requested.

But I had learnt my lesson after the last rampage. I can’t just write whatever I want anymore. I have to wrap the story in a reasonable length, like a pro should do.

A proper, professional story.

Huh?

My pen stopped right there. I stopped, looked around, feeling lost.

What is a proper story?

The act of writing novel is quite different in character compared to other types of media such as writing manga, anime scripts, or game scenarios. You can say it is almost a different thing. Writing novels, rather than narrating an event, is more like putting the flow of emotions into specific sentences. You use the sequence of letters to create rhythms, create flows, and create emotions. If anything, it might be closer to composing a song than writing a story.

Therefore, you have to decide “what kind of emotion will be put in this novel” from the very beginning, or you can’t start writing. That is the only and absolute rule.

Now, however, that is where the condition of a “proper story” hung over me.

A proper novel, of a proper volume, with a proper content for a bonus.

In other words, a proper emotion.

I searched through the drawers inside my head. For a proper emotion that is waiting to be brought out.

There was nothing but emptiness there.

A professional story teller is one with the skill to move the readers’ emotions. When people find the chance to move their own emotions, they will happily be paying for it. Human-being is that kind of creature.

And writers are ones who create and sell those kinds of emotions: the fear, the excitement, the heart throb etc., those that make you think. It is that kind of job.

It is supposed to be that kind of job.

Yet I became unable to move forward.

A good story is a story that moves people. I know that. Then what kind of emotion I should put in the story to make it "proper"?

How do I find that emotion?

I mean, how did I even write novels until now?

I stood still. My legs stiffened, my knees froze, unable to take even a step forward.

I then tried to at least pretend that I was moving forward, by listening to music, by taking a walk around the neighborhood at night. But as good as the night breeze felt, I didn’t manage to reach a single story that I needed to write.

What if I stayed like this forever, what would I do?

I felt a chill plunging into my back.

Then I realized, that stories, or probably emotions too, are not things you can search for or come up with. You have no choice but to patiently wait for it to come your way. You have no choice but to humbly and earnestly sit and wait for the story’s visit.

I got that, but the "proper 50-page story” still refused to come.

It was not long before one week passed. Then two weeks.

I was doing other work, while keeping my heart’s door open, waiting for the story to come to me.

At that time, I had an online meeting with the anime staff. I casually asked Director Igarashi, “Do you have any story you want to see?”

The Director gave it a little thought then told me, "I want to see the story of Dazai and Oda’s encounter”.

At that very moment, the story rushed in through my door, like a bang. I could hear that sound very clearly.

Two stories. Odasaku, and the two Dazais. A story where they met, and a story where they couldn’t meet. A story of gain and a story of loss. If I can portray the gain and loss side by side, the amplitude of the heart will be doubled and rise up in front of us.

That was a momentary event. Rather than pushing my way forward, I felt as if something was pulling my hand. Before I noticed, I have already finished the stories.

I came to realize.

It is not the writer who searches for the story. It is the story that chooses its writer, and at some point it will come our way. A professional writer is no more than someone with the ability to catch that call.

Also, this is the most important thing: there is no such thing as a “proper emotion”. Because after all, the feelings of other people belong to them only. That is why there is no guarantee that a novel can move others “properly”. However, you can move your own emotions. You know what kind of novel can and how it will move you. If you do, you can write just that. That’s the only way. That is the truly professional attitude. That’s what I thought.

Well then.

It is a little bit off topic, but as we are talking about “stories that come our way”, let’s talk about Odasaku’s first-person narrative.

Odasaku is a special character. For me, he is exclusively a novel character, and I have never portrayed him in the manga.

He first appeared as the narrator in “Dazai Osamu and The Dark Era”, then “BEAST” and now this “The Day I Picked up Dazai”. All are novels. That’s why for me, Odasaku doesn’t live inside the pictures, he lives inside the first-person narrative passages.

He is an eccentric guy. Even if you prepare the place and tell him to speak, he won’t speak to you that easily. His way of thinking is rather unique, that if I write his narrative after writing other characters’ first-person narrative, I would stumble for sure. Odasaku doesn’t speak. He just sits there in silence, while I can do nothing but sitting in front of my blank manuscript paper, trying to talk to him, like “What’s up?”, “Here, here”. However, he is a guy who won’t speak when it is not necessary. Sometimes it goes days or even weeks without him saying a word. Why did such a character come to me...?

During such time, there is only one thing I can do. That is, of course, to stay with him, sit patiently, and simply wait.

Finally he will start speaking. In his unique rhythm, word by word. His words have the power to cut through the world from a certain angle. That special cross-section is full of things I have never seen before and it never fails to surprise me.

And then when he finishes telling his story, he will swiftly disappear. To a dark and quiet place somewhere – probably, I can only imagine, somewhere like a bar. He will sit there calmly and keep his own time to himself. After that, it will be hard to call him again. It is a backbreaking task to me, but in the end, that is the type of guy Odasaku is, and if I am allowed to sound self-conscious, that is Odasaku's charm.

This story was written in such a way. There is a chance that he will come back again. And when he does, I will patiently listen to his voice again.

This story was completed and published thanks to the help of many people: in the Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST movie’s Production Committee, the anime staff, Young Ace’s Editorial Department, BEANS Bunko’s Editorial Department, and the many people who were involved in the publication of the book. Thank you very much. It is all thanks to you that the book was published without any problem this time as well.

Well then, see you in the next story.

Asagiri Kafka.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #the day i picked up dazai #traánlation

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nouvxllev · 3 months

Note

Hi, just wanna say I love your stuff! I was wondering if you’d do a Jenna x reader who is the daughter of Winona Ryder and Jenna meets her on the set of Beetlejuice 2. Winona acting as a wing woman for Jenna.

head over heels, your hand over mine

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^ request!

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: longer than i intended it to be

a/n: first of all... tysm!!! and second of all, thank you for the request!! means alot to me and i wrote it to the best of my abilities, hope you'll like it!!!

seq. || masterlist

Shit, shit, shit...

Jenna cursed under her breath as she practically hammered down the first-floor button as if that was going to make it go faster.

She glanced over to the indicator right above the door, the numbers slowly inching towards the ground floor. Her foot kept directing her side to side in the elevator, a stressed back-and-forth pace she caught herself on all while she gripped the Beetlejuice 2 script right in her hands, the paper almost being punctured with holes and such.

Jenna could almost blame herself for this.

Actually, she does. She damned herself so much she wouldn't be surprised if she got hit by a bus, really.

It wasn't any other day you'd get a role in Beetlejuice, 2, might she add, and even landing the role of the daughter of Winona Ryder who is possibly one of the most outstanding actresses out there and a 90s icon.

And now she's just slightly fucking it up with first impressions with how she's atleast 10 minutes late to their set because she spent her entire night in reading and rereading the script over and over until she perfected her lines to the point it's probably better if she'd just make Beetlejuice herself.

When the doors slid open, Jenna bolted out until she made her way to the entrance, her hand tightly clutching that damn script and her other gripping the strap of her bag.

Fumbling with her phone to call an Uber, she couldn't help but grimace at the thousands upon thousands of texts saying that she was late and her alarm clocks repeatedly being turned on to snooze just minutes before.

Of course, this day of all days just so happened to be the day that the universe decided that it had a grudge on Jenna for whatever reason because all Ubers were somehow booked and it would probably take atleast 30 minutes for another one.

So, like the hardworking actress she is determined to get a first impression even with punctuality falling behind her, she ran.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't long, thank-fucking-god, till Jenna got to set. She slowed her pace a little when she saw the cameras and people surrounding a particular area.

She took a moment to compose herself as she approached them, smoothing down her pants and fixing her hair all while she tried to catch her breath before possibly collapsing on the ground. The crew members spared her a glance, how comforting, even if they all had concerned looks on their faces.

Jenna always worked with such talented actors and directors, and now here she was working with Winona Ryder meanwhile she was looking like she ran a marathon on the side while going to set.

"You're here!" Winona called out, lowering the script in her hands while she offered a warm smile. "We almost thought there were some complications in your schedule."

The young actress offered a sheepish smile, embarrassment flowing in her mind as she offered a weak hand gesture. "I'm so sorry, all Ubers were somehow booked and I woke up late." She admitted before introducing herself. "I'm Jenna. Ortega." She added.

Winona chuckled, "No worries. The tech team is sorting out some equipment issues, so it's a bit of free time right now." She explained, offering a handshake. "Winona Ryder. Your mother. Well, on-screen." She joked while Jenna laughed with it.

"God, sorry if I look worn out. I really admire your work, it's all so amazing." Jenna took her hand, reciprocating the gesture. She was almost going to add something until a figure approached Winona, looking like a split-perfect resemblance of her. And oh how she did the fastest double-take in her whole life.

"Oh, right!" Winona pulled, possibly the most prettiest and gorgeous, girl Jenna has laid eyes on in her 21 years of continuous breathing by the shoulders and pushed her in front of the young actress. Now life without you suddenly looks like something she just completely wasted her precious time on.

Just by looking at Winona and how excitement reflected in her eyes, Jenna could tell how much she beamed with pride for her daughter; it made her heart swell.

"Meet my daughter, Y/n."

There were things Jenna should do when she meets someone. She introduces herself in a calm manner and maybe engage in some friendly talk with them whether if it's the most awkward-est thing in her life or one of the moments she'd like to spend forever in.

What she shouldn't do is slowly have a mid-introduction nosebleed, completely throw out the knowledge that she has the ability to speak and say words while her mouth is half-agape and her eyes wide and never blinking. This rule seems to be more strict when she's convinced she has met the love of your life.

It's safe to say that Jenna checked all the boxes on the latter.

Jenna met your gaze, and oh how that was the stupidest decision she had ever made in her entire life. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, breath caught in her throat, she tried to speak for a second but nothing came. It was like she was drowning but in the best way possible. And also falling head over heels in the worst way possible.

It's concerning how she almost wants to drop down and marry you on the spot; she's already rehearsing her vows inside her brain.

Jenna raised her hand, a shaky one at that, to offer a handshake. "I'm Jenny," she managed to squeak out, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at fumbling her own damn name. "I mean, Jenna! Sorry, not Jenny. I'm Jenna. Jenna Ortega." Oh, fuck, please just slit my throat already.

In every bad and awkward introduction, there's always someone from the other line slightly concerned but plays with it.

Your eyes crinkled, a bright sight to see that would put all sunrises to shame, and your lips parted like how the clouds part after a gloomy day, letting out a laugh that calmed Jenna's heart almost immediately. It was still running and skipping a fuck ton of beats per second, but your laugh seemed to warm it all.

"I'm Y/n, of course." You held Jenna's faltering eye contact as you reciprocated her gesture, "I'm really only here to accompany my mom," you explained. Please stay here forever. Better yet, be with me. Jenna almost said.

You shook her hand in the most softest way possible, her palm fitting right into yours. "Can't believe I met you, honestly." Jenna heard you mutter under your breath, a squeal following it.

Oh, if falling head over heels over you was a sin, she'd gladly be the epitome of something so mortal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that was only a week ago. Just imagine how much internal panic she goes through whenever she sees you now.

Jenna repeatedly cursed under her breath, staring at the reflection of herself in the mirror as she gripped the cold parts of the sink, glaring at herself in complete thought.

Almost so serious as if her mind wasn't battling with something so completely stupid she'd rather drown in self-pity and misery.

Jenna Ortega, deemed as America's #1 IT girl who practically swooned all seven continents by now, almost had a near anaphylactic shock when her hand grazed over yours and how you gave her possibly the most sweetest and soul-crushing smile with that stupidest crinkle in your eye to ever exist on this damned earth, holy fuck.

Why should she be so head over heels for you?

She lowered her head in defeat, a heavy sigh escaping her as the same image of your smile flickered in her mind, and now a stupid grin from your stupid image graced her lips.

It was only a week in being on the Beetlejuice set, and she damn near lost her mind.

You were always there, well of course you were there since you were Winona Ryder's daughter, but she didn't expect to be so obsessed with you to the point she needs to go to the bathroom to silently scream whenever she hears or sees your intoxicating smile.

It's sweet. Almost endearing to her.

As if she even has the right to even think about you in that way.

Jenna stepped outside, patting her hands dry by the hem of her shirt. her name already being called out by the directors, their voices only getting louder and louder until it dwindled down to nothing and she could only assume that Winona stopped them, it was still her break after all. She was almost like a real mother to her, a comforting one at that.

She started to take a pattern in her steps before she saw you sitting on the railings of the trailer. More importantly, Jenna's trailer.

Okay, she shouldn't have seen this as a sign from the universe that you liked her back, but she did and that was all the hope that the fate or whatever deity could do because she was too desperate and too drunk on the lack of attention and attraction you were giving her.

But how could she not do that when you look so perfect just being... you? Being everything she wanted? Needed? Just being so damn perfect almost feels like Jenna could die.

"You like my daughter, don't you."

Jenna looked behind her, the sudden voice that crept being Winona, the mother of the daughter she had been smitten for, a noticeable faint smile on her lips. It was more of a statement than a question. A fact, really.

Jenna could almost deny it if it wasn't so accurate. But what was she supposed to say? "Yes, I do like your daughter, in fact, I love her so much I would absolutely give up my very career to buy her the most expensive wedding ring to ever be created from the hands of a human, or even a Greek God perhaps, to show that she owns my entire heart, body, and soul."

Panic was evident, Winona could clearly tell by the way Jenna looked like was scramming to think up of a half-assed excuse.

"Yes—I mean, not like like. I love her, really. She's talented, hardworking, and passionate in the things she talks about. But that's really it; I love Y/n, in a friendly way." Jenna stammered. Even if she was spouting complete lies and nonsense about how she doesn't have a massive crush on you, her gaze was stuck on, of course, you yourself.

Winona arched an eyebrow, "Jenna, I know when someone is horribly in love with my daughter and who’s not."

"The both of you were always somehow joined together, even if none of you were talking. You’re always finding a reason to bring her up in a conversation even if no one was even talking about her. Also, everyone takes notice of how your gaze was always focused on Y/n. Even on scene, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her for a second."

Yeah, that seems about right.

Jenna sighed, her line of sight never laying off of you. It's amazing how you still haven't noticed she and your mother was staring at you like a bunch of stalkers.

"Y/n deserves someone like her, someone in her league," she turned around, now walking in the opposite direction to her original one. She almost sounded like a teenage boy who realized they couldn't get with the popular girl. "She looks like someone even from the heavens above couldn’t fathom they created her from their own mind and hands."

Winona's expression softened as she caught up to Jenna, now walking beside her. "If you, The Jenna Ortega, fail to get her attention and love then it's all over for us." She never heard someone talk so romantic about her daughter, it's truly unfair how the ones who love the most always fall short.

Jenna's steps slowed, her body slumping against the fall as her gaze was fixed on the ground. God, why was she acting like this over you?

The young actress nodded, her hands going up to her face and sliding them down as she spoke, "She's like this incredible and unattainable dream you want to continue after you wake up, Winona." She mumbled through her hands, "Y/n's gorgeous, gentle, charming, and just… perfect." She let go of her face, her hands now on her sides. "It's intimidating just by looking at her, knowing she's the essence of beauty and perfection. Like, how do you compete with that? Overall be someone who she wants to stick by her side?"

The actress observed the young one, Jenna's head down and fidgeting with her rings. Winona could almost say that this was the most vulnerable sight she ever saw from her. "You don't have to match her perfection, let alone measure yourself up to that; you just need to be the missing piece she didn't know she needed. "

Jenna took a deep breath, her head slowly rising, "I just don't want to mess it up. She deserves someone as awesome as her, and if she ever likes me back, I'm afraid of waking up and realizing I'm not enough for her to be someone she loves."

Winona tilted her head, crossing her arms, "Tell you what, I don't know much about my daughter now. She's not closed off, but she isn't open either." She could see how Jenna flicked her head upwards, listening attentively. "But I do know that she's been watching all of your movies and shows up to this point."

Jenna's eyes widened in surprise. She doesn't wanna take any risks, but she doesn't wanna lose any chances either. "She... she has?"

Winona nodded, a soft and warm smile playing on her lips, just like the one you always have if not more comforting.

"I could never hear the end of it. She says you have this genuine charm whenever you speak, you're calm but you're also being true to yourself. Y/n admires you so much, I almost get sick of it," she laughed that pulled a chuckle from Jenna. "You're perfect in her eyes, but that's not what she likes about you. She likes you because you're authentic, yourself." She reached out for Jenna's shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I'll be your wingman. I'm sure you're the perfect girl for my daughter."

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And that was maybe two to three months ago.

Now Jenna's thinking that you might be the most oblivious person to ever roam this entire globe. She's been dropping hints everywhere you go and you still wouldn't catch up that she has feelings for you!

Ever since Jenna got into Winona's wing, she knew everything that makes you happy. Your music taste, what type of flowers you like, what type of outings you like, clothes, scents, foods, colors, even legos, just basically everything under the sun she gave to you within a heartbeat.

Jenna gives you flowers everyday, hell even bouquets if she's feeling fancy. Reads and writes you letters, and ever since Winona gave her your number, she's been sending you voicemails of your favorite songs every morning as some goodmorning text. She's been nothing but romantic to you! Was she just missing something?

The only thing that really progressed was something of strangers to friends. The two of you were as close as ever to the point if one of you were needed, somebody probably would need to surgically remove both of you.

But that was it! No nothing, just friends. It was selfish for Jenna to want something more when she has the love of her life close to her as a friend, sure, but she needed just a little bit more before she mentally goes insane.

"I mean, come on!" Jenna complained to Winona, sitting across from the other chair just right beside her trailer, script in her hands but she was paying more attention to Jenna. "Flowers, letters, voicemails… I'm practically screaming 'I like you' at this point." She slumped over the table, "or maybe she's just really ignoring them."

"I think you're thinking too deeply, Jenna," Winona stated, looking over to somewhere far, "maybe you should confess. She's right there."

Jenna was about to stand up and say it all out and die in a hole if she gets rejected until she realized you were wearing something so... fucking gorgeous? stunning? breathtaking? ethereal? She needed a stronger word than all words combined.

It wasn't your everyday casual wear, in fact, it was something you'd wear to go on a date. A date that meant something, a date that you'd go with another person and to confess their love.

Oh, don't fucking tell her she was too slow to confess and some random dude confessed earlier.

"I don't..." Jenna stammered, she could sense that agonizing feeling of her heart sinking, a stinging pain but it was mixed with immense pressure, like she was almost drowning. "I don't really think it's the right time."

Winona let out a sympathetic sigh, "she did tell me that she was going somewhere important." She waved in your direction, grabbing your attention. "Y/n!"

Jenna didn't know it was possible to drown without having any bodies of water near you, now she was fully experiencing it by how her heart sank even further as she heard Winona's words.

She shouldn't be surprised, after all, somebody actually had the guts and mindset to actually confess to you personally without having to hide behind a facade and without having to drop a fuck ton of hints instead of saying it out loud.

It stung. Thinking that someone out there was that one for you. And how that someone was never Jenna. But it was sweet. She winced.

Jenna couldn't shake the pang and sting of disappointment as she watched to walk over to Winona, a smile on your lips like you've met the most wonderful person to ever be in your life. She couldn't read if it was real, and she hoped to God it was fake.

"What's with the get-up?" Winona asked, standing up while giving Jenna the look.

"Going on a date with this guy, he asked me." You smiled, yet again, but it was even brighter.

Yeah, she figured. When did she even assume that you liked women anyway?

"Can I borrow your car, mom, please?" You asked of her, your puppy eyes going in action while you mentally crossed your fingers.

Jenna wasn't the one to brag, but she could drive a car! Not that idiot guy who couldn't even take whatever vehicle to fetch her as a nice gesture. Hell, it was a date for godsakes!

Winona sighed, glancing between Jenna and you. "Sure, you can borrow the car," she stated before digging into her pockets and fetching her car keys, plotting it down to your hands, "but make sure to bring it back in one piece."

Jenna bit her lip, suppressing the urge to completely pull herself out of her chair and scream 'I love you so goddamn much, Y/n! Can't you see I'm the one for you and not some guy who couldn't even go the mile to drive you to the damn date!?' But no. Instead, she stayed in her seat, nodded as a goodbye, and forced yet another smile.

"Thanks for the flowers by the way, Jenna! I should really pay you back sometime." You chuckled, before hugging her head as your way of goodbye. "I'll tell you all about it when I get home."

"Don't worry about the flowers. No need to pay me back," Jenna replied, doing her damn best to keep her tone light and her knuckles not so light. As you hugged her, Jenna couldn't help but savor the moment, imagining that it wasn't a goodbye to go off on some date with some random dude but rather a lovely gesture. "I'll be waiting to hear all about it."

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That was atleast three to five hours ago.

Jenna never knew how a 2$ caesar salad bought from a suspicious vendor on the sidewalks could be so depressing but still mock her on how she just lost the love of her life to someone who actually had the guts to confess until she actually experienced it.

It was a slow day on set. Probably because it was already so late at night. There were still some scenes being recorded, but most of it was Winona's.

So along those hours when Jenna wasn't with you or she couldn't text you through the phone, all she could really do was stare from afar and hope that you'd magically have some miraculous change of mind mid-date and maybe you'll soon believe and realize Jenna was the one for you after all.

Of course, life wasn't like a damn movie and that damn date was still going to happen no matter what she does.

Winona sat beside Jenna, offering a sympathetic look at how Jenna was poking around her lettuce. "You know that's her quote-on-quote I don't really give two shits outfit but I still need to look good for a requirement that is people's feelings."

Jenna let go of her fork, damn even it looked sad. "But she looks beautiful."

Winona could almost roll her eyes if not for the young actress wallowing in her own thoughts. "It's because you're head over heels for her, Jenna. She could wear some obnoxious color-clashing clothes and she'd still look like a goddess for you."

Jenna sighed, picking up her fork again and halfheartedly stabbing a folded lettuce leaf. "I mean, don't you?" she asked, glancing at Winona. "You're her mother."

Winona shrugged, "Her clothes, her choice, but I still absolutely would not." She laughed, and her smile brightened when Jenna allowed a smile to crack through her lips.

Jenna could almost face-plant herself into the salad bowl if not for a notification pinging in Winona's phone. A notification that Winona only applied for you.

"...Or you could tell her that she's much better off with you rather than some guy that stood her up." Winona showed the phone to Jenna, your message illuminating on the screen.

y/n

mom can u pick me up? karaoke room 217 stood up on me lol come quick, pls. thx

Jenna would've been lying if she said she wasn't jumping, screaming, throwing up in literal joy.

Well, of course, she was mad that you of all people were stood up, but she was semi-glad that you were.

Jenna's urgency was visible as she scrambled to get out of her seat, grabbing her bag with such hast and making a sudden beeline for the exit.

"Tell her that you can't go! I wanna surprise her," She yelled to Winona, her excitement in her voice echoing through the room. It's almost weird and insane how happy she was about how you were stood up.

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You waited for 2 hours.

It wasn't disappointing. You already knew it was just some sort of dare or a prank that one of his friends pulled, but you showed up anyway. Not like because you wanted to play with his feelings; you couldn't do that if you didn't have any.

In fact, you had feelings for Jenna.

Ever since she showed up on your screen, she was the only actress you could ever think about. She was charming, alluring, the only person who could make the daylight so dark if her smile was out of place.

You didn't know her, personally then, but you loved her. You were willing to start wars with the world, may it be against you or may all odds and fate oppose you, you’d do everything for her even if it kills you to be someone who would take all her hidden suffering and plead for tears with your palms locked and thrown away.

And now that you were working with her on set, you couldn't help but be someone you're not. All thanks to you and your mother on reluctantly giving up on the idea of not bringing you to set. You wanted to confess, you really did. It was just a silly little crush like you'd always have but this one with Jenna seemed real and your life would've ended if your feelings were rejected.

Though, even after all that, Jenna was the one you wanted to be with. The one you hoped would walk through that damn door and hug you until your worries and thoughts all disappeared, only met with her voice and her comforting arms.

That would've been a fleeting memory, wishful thinking. That is until the very girl that made you go insane rushed into the room.

What the fuck.

She was exhausted, you could tell by her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of her; looking like she had gone the extra mile and maybe even drove a car on the way instead of running, just to be there with you. You could almost start laughing and be that snarky person you've always been to her if not for everything else fading into the background until Jenna was the only one left.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around your body as she tightened the hug as if you'd die if she ever let go of your body. The warmth of her touch, the comfort in her soul, and her very being brought something so grand as you hugged her back. You feared that letting go would mean losing her forever, and she thought the same way.

"I love you." She murmured on your shoulders, closing her eyes. You notice how her voice cracked with vulnerability and almost sorrow as you tightened your hold on her.

"I love you," she whispered yet again, as if you didn't hear her the firs time. "I love you, I love you, I just love you." She dug her head under your neck, her breath warm on your skin as you waited for her to finish.

You could feel Jenna's heartbeat against your chest, fast and beating while it synced with your own. "I love you, Y/n. You don’t know how many lifetimes I would kill myself for you to look into my soul, everything beneath, and even the darkest parts of my heart so then you’ll see how I perceive you to be everything I look for. I can't understand how you don't understand how much you mean to me. How much your laughter was something I didn't know would be the cure to whatever terminal illness I had in life, your actions being my motivation, your soul being my guiding light, and your smile being something so bright that not even the sun could beat its glory."

Jenna slowly pulled away from you, her eyes searching yours for a reaction. The room was always so silent, but it never felt like it was the funeral of sound itself.

"I'm sorry—That—That wasn't... I didn't—" she stammered, her body already getting up and pulling away from you.

Gently, you reached out and cupped her face with your hands, your thumbs brushing away the newly formed tears that had welled up in her eyes and dripped from her cheeks. You could feel the warmth of her skin beneath your touch, her freckles, and everything that made Jenna her was right beneath your palm. You want nothing but to cherish it.

You couldn't think of a reply. You could, but it would never beat the confession Jenna had for you. It was more than a mere confession, but something out of a book that would put every writer to shame.

"Is this okay?" Your eyes searched for Jenna's consent in hers as you leaned in ever so slightly, her breath lingering on your skin until Jenna's lips met yours in a hesitant, gentle kiss. The touch of her soft lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, her hands coming up to cradle your face as she melted into you while your own hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Life felt like something you wasted without her lips touching yours. How you felt everything and how you were everything under her soft touch, her presence. It was if every moment before her had been leading to this one. Every heartbeat, every breath, every time you've experienced something happy, sad, or even something conflicted was building up to the moment your lips finally met hers. You felt whole, alive, reassured, and comforted.

Her touch felt like a warm embrace from something so indestructible, a star so far away that only you could see it shine from afar but yet you could feel every inch of its presence.

Then it stopped. The both of you pulled back.

But your heart never did.

"You know I asked for your mom to be my wingman."

"Please don't destroy this moment we have by mentioning my mom, Jenna. I'm serious."

Jenna chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "give her some credit. I never would've confessed to you without her."

You couldn't help but smile, realizing she was still the Jenna you fell in love with. "I guess, but I don't really want to talk about my mom after I just got stood up and then kissed the girl I love."

Jenna's chuckle turned into a soft giggle, her hand finding it's way to your palm as she intertwined her fingers with yours. "Also, for the record, that guy was an idiot."

You nodded after shared laughter. With everything that's going around between the two of you, you almost miss how Winona arrived just in time. Standing by the door with a smile on her face.

But even with Jenna's hand over yours, she'd still fall head over heels for you.

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just some fuckass aftermath dialogues:

W: "You finally confessed." J: "Did she tell you?" W: "Well for one she's been awfully cheery and gave me a questioning I love you mom and offered me to go shopping with her."

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x femreader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

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justmeinatree · 10 months

Text

Step Into The Light

Summary : you’re one of the dancers in the lights up video. harry takes a particular liking to you.

Word Count : 600

A/N : she’s a baby. a little teaser. ✌️

they wanted individual shots for the lights up music video. individual shots of harry with each of the main dancers. which was all fine and dandy until it was your turn. “y/n, nice to meet you,” he remembers you saying with a smile as you shook his hand. this was hours ago, before the shooting began.

you had finished all of the group scenes, and harry couldn’t keep you off his mind. the way he felt a particular heat under your touch whenever your fingertips ran along his skin. the way he leaned a little closer to you whenever you were right by him for the shot. it’s like his body was being pulled to yours, craving you in some kind of way.

so now, he was supposed to stay composed and professional as he had to dance and grind one on one, alone with you. at least earlier he could keep the thoughts at bay. with everyone else around, it really felt like a video shoot, with lots of things and people to think about. but now, here you are, back pressed to his front, your hips swaying back and forth, head leaned back against his shoulder.

you had given him the okay to touch earlier, so he doesn’t hesitate to let his hands glide down your arms, to your hips. his left hand stays firmly planted on your hip, right hand splayed out over your stomach, making its way up between your breasts, over your neck and jaw, fingers hooking into your chin to turn your face towards him.

harry’s eyes lock with yours, turning you around to face him, head lowering to rest his forehead against yours. you rest your hands on his chest, hearing the director calling something out, but your brain is too foggy to register anything.

you assume he’s putting on his best act, having done this 7 times already with other actors. but then you notice harry’s teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip, his hands gripping into your hips, and he pulls you into him. you feel his cock fattening up, your eyes locking with his as you hear a faint whine leave his lips.

“sorry love, fuck m’really sorry,” he whispers against your ear. from the angle and distance of the crew, harry knows they can’t see anything. but he definitely shouldn’t be getting hard like this. and to press you against him, he’s honestly mortified.

“don’t worry about it,” you murmur back just as quietly, breathing out a soft chuckle. but you can see the blush rising on his cheeks and you really don’t want him to feel bad, you were just as turned on. but you had a body that didn’t make horniness quite so obvious. “would it make you feel better if i told you that i was dripping right now ?”

harry’s eyes search yours, trying to read you. and he can see it, your pupils are blown wide, your chest is rising a bit quicker as your breathing picks up. his mouth quirks into a small smirk, really seeing that he’s got the same effect on you as you’ve had on him.

in the moment, there’s nothing he wants more than to drop to his knees and have you drip into his awaiting mouth. and if there wasn’t an entire crew of people 15 feet away, he’d do it without a second thought. harry’s so enthralled by the thought of it that he doesn’t notice himself whispering out “wanna taste you so bad.”

and since the universe loves to make you suffer, “CUT ! thanks, next please.”

Part 2

……

Masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writings #writings #justmeinatree

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delphi-shield · 4 months

Text

OLD FOLKS HOME ↪ age gap hcs

the people you love & the shit they do that reminds you of the dreaded Gap (tm). characters included: leon kennedy, chris redfield, jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers no warnings to speak of. remember kids, if you're gonna date people in their 30s and 40s, you're gonna have different cultural contexts and, most likely, different senses of humor.

Leon is eight levels of irony deep. He started doing Old Guy Shit just to mess with you, and now it's all come full circle.

It turns out he actually likes watching the weather channel. He’s monitoring storms that are miles and miles away from you, pointing out the feeder bands like it’s some kind of sporting event.

He's genuinely invested in Ice Road Truckers. He asks you to TiVo it for him when he's gone. You do not have TiVo. In fact, you're pretty sure no one still has TiVo.

Or you were, until Leon once again committed to the bit and got TiVo.

Really, genuinely annoying about old movies, actors, and directors.

”What do you mean you don’t know who Robert Redford is? The Candidate? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? C’mon. He was even in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You’ll know him when you see him.”

At least you get movie dates out of it.

Movie dates that he will pepper with trivia about the film, by the way. You don't need the commentary track. He is the commentary.

I'm so, so sorry about this. 🤪 is his favorite emoji. I know. I'm sorry.

Chris cannot fucking hear. To be honest, I think most of them have some degree of hearing loss - but Chris in particular seems to have very subjective hearing loss.

Yes, you were just having a full-fledged conversation. No, he didn’t hear you ask him to take out the trash. He didn’t forget, he just didn’t hear you. Sorry, you were standing on his right - come on, you know that’s his bad side.

Explains basic technology to you because he’s not sure if you know what it is. Then, in the same breath, crams in so many military acronyms he may as well be reciting the alphabet. Does not explain the acronyms.

Like, yeah, Chris. I know what a landline is. Dial-up internet, too. Now, what the fuck is an ORE?

Have you ever gotten ‘ok’ in response to a nude? You’re about to. Completely demoralizing, by the way.

He didn't know you wanted him to compose a poem dedicated to your beauty, okay? He tries to get better, but winds up sending shit like 'wow 👍'

Does the dad thing where he insists he's not interested in watching what's on TV and then stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of the living room, enthralled by the show.

Jill does not understand your music. She will not make an attempt to understand your music. If you see her tapping her foot to the beat, no you do not. She is not interested in expanding her musical horizons.

She only bought you tickets to that concert because she knew you would love it. She only went with you because you’re cute when you’re so into this stuff. She only bought that t-shirt because it would be a good souvenir, and eventually, a good grease rag.

Generalized distrust of social media. Do not show her a tiktok. She will ignore the video and lecture you about data safety. Jill, please. Just watch the fucking cat video.

And then she turns around and opts in to literally everything on the McDonald's app.

If there’s a rewards program, she’s in. Already sold. Didn’t even read the fine print. All that shit she was telling you about how you need to be more careful is right out the window for some free fries.

Anything for the thrill of a good deal. If she had more time on her hands, she would be couponing.

Buys in bulk. No, it doesn't matter if the two of you could not physically eat that much rice. It's cheaper to buy it like this. It's fine. It's good for you.

Gotta stock up on non-perishables, too. You gotta be prepared in case something happens. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

Claire cannot stop shopping from QVC. She's in the kitchen with David. It Takes Two with Mary and Sandra? Wrong. It actually takes three. Mary, Sandra, and Claire.

Infomercials have got her by the throat. You have so many gadgets and gizmos around your home that are just collecting dust.

Gets wine drunk and goes online shopping. Legitimately does not remember what she’s bought.

Absolutely will not let you open the packages. (“Some of this stuff could be for you, you know.” “Claire, last time it was a 10,000 count package of googly eyes.” “And I used all 10,000. You still haven’t found them all.”)

Uses every piece of technology until it’s about to fall apart. Absolutely not interested in having the latest and greatest. She’s one of those people who insists that as long as her phone can make calls and send texts, she doesn’t need a new one.

Speaking of texts. Somehow, she got it into her head that a read receipt is equivalent to a reply. She doesn't get what the problem is. You know she saw your text. Why does she have to reply?

Genuinely doesn't mean anything malicious by it - but also, if you did that to her, you would never hear the end of it.

Rebecca legitimately has facebook humor. They all have some degree of facebook humor, but she's got it the worst.

Will blow up your notifications tagging you in shit that is just straight up not funny. I’m talking full on tagging you with “😂😂😂”

Unironically sent you a minion meme once.

It's not that she's disconnected. She teaches undergrads. She knows what’s in, even if it’s only from the periphery. It’s just that she doesn’t care. She has no interest in keeping up with trends just for the sake of it. She’s so used to being the youngest person in the room and having to keep up expectations that she just absolutely does not care anymore. She's glad she's not one of the kids anymore.

If it made her laugh it made her laugh, her enjoyment isn’t shackled by feelings of shame!!

If you have a group chat on any platform with your friends please invite her. She's just happy to be included. She'll make a discord if she has to, and she'll brag about it to her students.

Yeah, she says pupper and doggo. She does. Look at her.

#resident evil headcanons #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield x reader #jill valentine x reader #claire redfield x reader #rebecca chambers x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy

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bonus-links · 2 months

Note

Any directors commentary on this update because I loved when you did it before 👀

hell yeah

in the original draft of this chapter, immediately after they get the raft there's a comedic cut to them floating in the ocean, the raft completely destroyed from a storm or just shoddy craftsmanship or something lol. it was followed by a gag where they walk across the ocean using Slate's cryonis blocks, and everyone is confused about how they even work (they're solid but they form only on TOP of the surface of the water???). Also Wolf was a wolf this whole time. I was really sad to cut it because it's actually been on the books since I was making prologue lol but alas

that first page was was supposed to go with the last update. I hope it's clear the deku tree is who's talking for those first two panels lol, I only realized once the pages are done that it might be unclear now with a break between

Some people have pointed it out, but they were at Forest Haven! You can actually see Link's Oasis (Where Wake and Linebeck are stopped) in the distance from there, so they had eyes on the ship the whole time!

Link's Oasis is one part where Wake stores all of his shit and one part where Linebeck just. lives now. Wake gave him the deed. Technically it's Linebeck's Oasis

I love Linebeck. That's not directors commentary but it must be said. I love him

I was fighting for my life not to mike wazowski slate for this whole update. composing 3-5 people in frame around text bubbles is a challenge HAHA. Sorry he and Wolf haven't gotten the spotlight much in the last two updates! We'll get there!

I worry about the pacing of the chapter so far lol I hope things don't feel like they're flying by too fast

Wolf's answer is yes. It is fun being a wolf :-)

The koroks helped build the raft! Probably with some supplies from Slate

wolf has some doubts about the seafaring abilities of the raft. he's like oh okay. so this is how we all die

that's all I've got for now!

#ask #bonus content #directors commentary

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sserajeans · 5 months

Text

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

#hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni pham imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #hanni fanfic #Spotify

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