#and in another day who knows i may be fully on board with the 'fuck these pieces of shit i don't want to hear it' train

[bratbby333]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ blog update ! ] ࿐ྂ

+ some housekeeping and info on new writing

hello my loves !! i wanted to give y'all some insight on what's been going on in my mind palace lately. there's a lot...so...cmon, take a walk w me...and maybe bring some snacks.

ੈ♡˳ first and foremost ! my work has received a lot more attention recently and i am so excited. with actual tears in my eyes, im happy to report that i surpassed 1,000 followers the other day. i am at a loss for words...just...stuck in a perma-state of disbelief.

im sending out the biggest thank you to everyone who has supported me, who's interacted with my work, to the lovely friends ive made though this account and to the heartbreakingly beautiful anime that brought me here in the first place. i am genuinely in awe...overwhelmed, even...i didn't expect any of this to happen when i started this blog and i am forever indebted to all of you for getting me here. im actively fighting off the inevitable surge of imposter syndrome as i type this out...i just love y'all so fucking much. this community means the world to me and i wanna scream at the top of my lungs in order to demonstrate my deepest appreciation for each and every one of y'all.

ੈ♡˳ secondly ! a message for my little angel babies, my day one followers; thank you for taking a chance on me. for watching me grow. for sticking around as i worked to get better at writing. im sure a lot of you started following me for my gamer!bf sukuna series...trust me, i love him and i know y'all do too. but i feel like my writing is heading in a different direction...and with a heavy heart, i'm absolutely gutted when i say that i am taking a pause on that series. i am forever grateful for the support and may return to him soon, though i cannot promise that. i owe so much of what my account is now to that series and i will never forget that.

for everyone who joined me as i delved into dark/dead dove content, thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me a safe space to explore different forms of story-telling. my choso fic was the first stepping stone and then i skipped every other stone on the path and jumped head first into the deep end with my dead dove gojo fic...i deeply appreciate all the positive feedback i received on both of those. after posting them, i realized that i am very into writing dark content. i know that taboo themes/dark content/dead dove subject matter isn't for everyone and i understand people's apprehension in regards to it. but with that being said, i will be moving forward with publishing darker content.

ੈ♡˳ so here's the writing update !

i did a poll asking y'all what kind of content you enjoy. a good chunk of people said long form fics (which is great, cause i do too !! mommy needs plot). so, i am migrating away from one shot writing. both because i've been thinking about it for awhile and because y'all are into longer stories, as well. but fear not, i will still write shorter stuff along with headcannons, drabbles, etc...it just won't be the main focus of my blog anymore.

ੈ♡˳ now, time for the big reveal ! perhaps it's a bit anticlimactic, but bear with me...

im so excited to announce that i have two new series coming ! it will be a dark, modern!au featuring choso (with a few other special guests) and a dead dove sukuna series.

i'm almost finished with the outlines, and have fully completed the theme layout + mood boards for both works. i hope to get the first few chapters wrapped up in the next couple weeks. if you want to be tagged in either of these (or both), just leave a comment or send me a message !

(also !! i may or may not be cooking up a dark medieval au series in collaboration with another writer on here...so be on the lookout for that hehe)

while i take breaks from writing my two series, i'll be working through my requests ! so if you've sent one in, i promise i will get to it, unless i literally cannot think of a good way to write it (im only human, im so sorry). also, im sure we already knew this, but im a slowww writer. i wish i could churn content out quick as fuck but i am too hypercritical of myself…it's both a blessing and a curse, honestly.

if you made it all the way to the end of this nightmare of a brain dump, i love you. if you've been with me for a while, i love you. if you're just now joining me, i love you. everyone who’s supported me in any way, shape, or form, i love you.

i present you with the sloppiest kiss with tongue (only if you want it, of course. i can also give you the tightest hug, the gentlest head pat, or my social security number...access to all my bank accounts? a mansion in the hills? my passport? hand in marriage? my first born child? literally whatever you want, babe).

okay !! i think that's all for the updates. feeling: very ambitious and motivated but also overwhelmed and mildly stressed but overall super excited for what's to come. im looking forward to this new adventure and i hope y'all come along with me ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

thank you again…for literally everything. yall hold a special place in my heart and always will. so, here we go !

see you on the other side, my loves.

— jade 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[losfacedevil]

Sk8er Boi // SFK

a/n ~ Just a little introductory taste of another wild world my mind is cooking up! Skater Boy Sammy anyone? Psst @gretasmokerising I did it....and he may be as big as FM!Sam

He heard her before he saw her. 

The mixture of wheels cruising down the street melding with that of a metal sounding beat filled the cool September afternoon. Sam turned his attention from the box of new records he was cataloguing, looking up just in time to see a purple haired beauty zip by. He stood to his full height, quickly making his way over to the opened front door and stuck his head out. He quickly found her stopped at the busy intersection waiting for her turn to cross. 

“I swear you spend more time daydreaming than you do working, boss man.”  The sales associate, Atticus, called out; sidling up behind Sam and clapped a hand down on his shoulder. He chuckled lightly, eyes trained on her as she jogged across the intersection, dropping the board at her feet and mounting quickly. 

“That’s a great tune, who is she?” Atticus mumbled, his attention now drawn to where Sam was staring. Sam shook his head and with a light shrug of his shoulders turned his attention back to Atticus. 

“Fuck if I know. But she looks interesting.”

~*~*~

Sam groaned as he flipped the Open sign to Closed as he slipped out of the small record shop, placing his board securely under the toe of his shoe as he dug his store keys out of his messenger bag. He quickly locked the door and yanked on it a few times; ensuring the lock was fully engaged and slipped his keys back into his bag.

He took a deep breath of the cool nighttime air, reveling in the silence of the night surrounding him. He kept his gaze trained on the line of security lights that remained on inside the shop, a curt nod of approval his party time signal to the ghosts he was convinced lived in the shop. 

“Will the cops stop me tonight? The world may never know.” Sam chuckled to himself.

He was quick to mount his board, throwing his arms out to the side to steady his balance, with a quick chuckle at his own expense; and gently kicked off of the ground. 

The skatepark was his escape, where he went after a long day at the shop. Somewhere he could get lost in the speed of his board and the wind whipping his long hair around his face. Hitting the half pipes was iffy after curfew; the cops patrolling the small park behind the junior high having a soft spot for the record junkie. 

Sam was on autopilot, his feet quickly getting him to a comfortable speed and he coasted down the street; his eyes trained everywhere but where he was going. The city streets were dead at this time, anyone under the age of twenty being held under a strict curfew due to summertime vandalism.

His ears perked up as he rounded the corner to the school, the undeniable sound of wheels against the concrete infiltrating his senses. A soft sigh escaped him as he realized he wouldn’t be alone, the serenity of the skatepark now being shared by another. He let his board slow to a near crawl, dismounting it as he neared the opening in the gate. Sam’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her. 

She stood in the middle of the ramps, eyes trained on the purple skateboard sat at her feet. Rubbing her hands together she took a deep breath and placed her right foot at the front of her board, kicking off with her left before placing her foot on the board and steadying herself. A goofy skater. 

She let her board gain speed naturally, the harsh dips of the half pipes sending her zipping across the concrete. Sam could see the look of concentration on her face as she pushed down on the back of her board, lifting the front wheels slightly to gain some air. He watched on silently as she quickly steadied into the Ollie as her board came back down and shot out right from under her. 

A yelp sounded from her chest as she hit the ground, quickly replaced by a frustrated groan as she realized she wasn’t alone. She pushed herself to stand, quickly brushing herself off before stalking off across the park and snatched up her board. Sam couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he watched the beginner frustration play across her face. 

“You’re facing the wrong way for that. You’re a goofy skater you need to start at the left side of your board.” He called, slowly making his way over to where she stood. A confused expression kissed her features as she dropped her board back at her feet. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice was light, not at all matching her outward appearance. 

“You skate right foot forward, that’s goofy… yknow what it doesn’t matter. I can help you nail that Ollie if you’d like. It’s the easiest beginner trick.” Sam chuckled, taking off at a jog before dropping his board and mounting it in one swift motion. 

A soft smile spread across his face as he let his board gain speed naturally, zipping past her multiple times before steadying himself on his board. Her eyes never left him as he did just as she had, pushing his back set foot down on the board and executed a perfect ollie. 

“See not all that hard.” Sam chuckled, hopping off his board in front of her and let it roll away. Her eyes were guarded as she stared him down, crossing her arms over her chest and marched his stance. 

“Yeah well you’re not goofy are you?” A boisterous laugh escaped Sam as his board came back towards him. 

“It’s easier to get the hang of it if you’re not moving. Start like this.” Sam mounted his board, steadying his body before showing off the little skater tricks he knew. 

“If you bend back on your back supporting knee and release quick you’ll get the air you need without the delay you had. It’ll give you that extra ten seconds to steady yourself before you land.” 

She rolled her eyes as Sam landed Ollie after Ollie, pointing out different ways he was stood, how quickly his knee snapped and just how to position his feet. Dismounting his board he nodded at hers, a soft smile spreading across his face. 

“Now show me what you learned.” Sam chuckled, eyes trained on her as she mounted her board. 

“I learned I need to stay away from this skatepark after dark, that’s when all the crazies come out. So like this?” She hyper focused on the board at her feet, doing exactly as he had shown her. Pushing down on the back of the board she kicked it up, landing it almost cleanly with that of a little wobble. 

Sam’s arms shot out, wrapping his hands quickly around her wrists and steadied her back into the middle of the board. She kept her eyes downcast to her feet as he nodded at her, a proud smile splayed across his face.

“That’s more like it, do it again.” A soft sigh slipped past her nose as she did what she was told, kicking up and landing with even more ease. 

“Okay fine, maybe you do know what you’re talking about, goofy.” She giggled, shaking his hands off of her wrists and quickly kicked off from where she stood. Sam’s jaw dropped, feigning shock as his eyes trailed her around the skatepark. 

“The name is Sam, not goofy. Can you Ollie over that stick?” He called, pointed out the smallest stick in the middle of the concrete. A smug look kissed her features, heading quickly to the death she knew that little bit of debris was going to cause. Screwing her eyes shut she did exactly as he told her and landed flawlessly with a soft victory shriek. 

“Guess you’re not that bad of a teacher, Sam. You come here often?” Her bold side came out, eyeing the sprinkling of tattoos that covered his forearm. 

“Almost every night, it’s a good place to unwind.” She nodded slowly, letting her board coast around him as she took in the little things about him; a silver hoop through his left nostril, an almost fully hidden tattoo kissing the side of his neck and the red beanie sitting atop his head that offered a pop of color to his wardrobe. 

“That it is, I have to jet before I get my ass handed to me. Strict parents even at my age, Yknow? But maybe we can do this again. That is if we run into each other.” Sam laughed and nodded his head, reaching out to fist bump her as she zipped past with a curt nod. 

“You got it!” He called, shaking his head lightly as she quickly zipped away from the skate park and  into the night.

TAGLIST ?: @gretasmokerising @ascendingtostardust @sparrowofthedawnsworld @runwayblues @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @vanfleeter @puzzle-gvf @belovedsamuel @sunandthemoontwinflames @twistedmelodies @sunfl0wer-power @miguelnation

[rainofaugustsith]

There was a post about the dearth of f/f stories on Ao3, and yes, I feel that. There was a post about it I responded to, and I wanted to take the time to express my own thoughts more fully.

First, I don't think anyone should write anything they don't want to write. Fanfic is for fun. You should write what's fun for you. I don't generally write m/m or f/m couples. I've read both fanfic and published books for both which have been wonderful but as a sapphic woman my general preference is to write stories that are f/f. I don't feel obligated to write m/m or f/m; there are plenty of other writers out there who are doing a great job with that.

Second, nobody has to like a character. If one routinely dislikes most or every character who is a woman/gay/BIPOC I do think that may point to something significant about bias the person might want to explore, and if one holds these characters to unreasonable double standards vs. the white/heterosexual/cis/male characters that also speaks to bias. And don't even get me started on whitewashing; when a character is clearly BIPOC and he's mysteriously white in every piece of fan art, things that make you go hmmm. But no, if you don't like a specific character, nobody's holding a gun to your head to make you change your mind.

Where there is vast room for improvement, though, is the way women in some fandom spaces actively try to tear down female characters and ships. It's not enough for them to dislike female characters; they have to ensure that everyone knows it every day, and that anyone who feels differently is completely excluded from the fandom.

I've been in fandoms where women fans have actively tried to get female characters killed off, removed from the story, given less screen time and fewer lines because oh noes, the camera isn't focusing on their male blorbo for two seconds, or another character actually gets to take the lead. I've been in fandoms where fans have gone out of their way to harass people who do appreciate women characters and ships and alienate them out of fandom spaces. And in such cases the fact that wlw might actually like to see relationships and characters who reflect their orientation is dismissed as something unimportant. I've seen message boards where people who hate female characters rant about every bit of screen time, every line, over and over and over again even in topics that have fucking nothing to do with that. I've seen Tumblr posts trying to appreciate female characters where these fans immediately jump in and try to railroad it to their male blorbos.

Does that have a chilling effect on f/f and fandom of female characters? I'd be hard pressed to say it doesn't. Who wants to be in fandom spaces if you're going to be trolled? How can fandoms flourish in that environment? In addition, if you've screamed enough to get the writers to reduce female characters' roles - as they did with Rose Tico in Star Wars, for instance - those characters have much fewer chances to get good story arcs and lines, and to develop in ways that would make them more engaging and might actually attract more fans and writers.

Don't write f/f if you don't like it. Don't read it if you don't like it. Why ruin it for those who do?

You make the fandom you want, on some levels - you block and TumblrSavior the trolls, you curate your experience, you create a safe enclave. Having said that, if there was less aggression against f/f fans from their own fandoms, one could imagine there would be more people willing to write f/f.

[hyunnieshannie]

Walking On Glass

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅Master List⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅

I : Yang fucking Jeongin.

♥: Yang Jeongin x AFAB Reader ★: The author is prone to adding tags as they go, Mentions heavily of death, Mentions of Murder, Anxiety, Past Trauma, and Nightmares -- It's a dark fic.

“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion” -Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia, 1838

The piercing sound of your alarm jolts you awake, another day passed you by yesterday and now a new one calls out to you. You can’t help but groan, at the idea of having to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed. Reluctantly and with a heavy sigh you finally muster the energy to get up and drag yourself through the apartment, still half-asleep. Gathering your things, you prepare yourself physically and mentally for the day ahead. 

 Your walk to the bus stop was rather uneventful, with cars whizzing past you, and the pedestrians hurrying along in their daily rush to work. You nod in appreciation to the bus driver as you step onto his bus, immediately drowning yourself out from the world by placing your headphones on, in hopes to avoid any sort of conversation. 

A couple of stops pass, and just as you settle into your music-induced bubble, May boards the bus in a rush, her bag half-open in her hands. Spotting you, she waves frantically and quickly pays her fare. Without delay, she darts towards the seat next to you, yanks one of your earphones out, and places it in her ear, as if inviting herself into your private world.

Surprised by May's sudden intrusion, you offer her a half-hearted smile, unsure of how to react. She always had an unpredictable energy about her, and you knew resisting her enthusiastic company was often futile.

“How’d I know you’d be listening to this song?” She laughs,

“Woke up late again?” You sigh.

May chuckles and tosses her hair playfully, her confident demeanour shining through. "Oh, you have no idea! Looking this good takes some serious effort," she teases 

“If only you’d put as much effort into your studies as you do your looks; you’d be unstoppable.” You smile back at her as she sits down.

“Not everyone can be like you, Y/N. I can’t be pretty and smart, that's too much work!” She giggles, as she pulls out a hair brush and begins to tie her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As you arrive at the school May turns to you and says, “I hear we have a new student coming in today; I hope he’s nice.” 

He of course it's another boy, another distraction for her. 

“Great.” You sigh. 

You make your way slowly to your morning lecture, quickly finding your spot as May turns around in her seat to face you as everyone else files in, 

“He’ll probably end up falling madly in love with me an-”

“Madly in love with you?” Seungmin scoffs as he sits beside May. “I got a look at him, and you’re totally not his type.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT,” May’s flustered face says it all, she doesn’t want to be his type anyways Seungmin. 

“Trust me, you’re not his type. He looks like he’s dropped out like five times- actually, honestly, he kinda looks like the type to shoot up the-” 

“Not funny Seungmin.” You sigh, “School shootings are an actual problem, and people who do those kinds of things are mentally ill. You can’t just go and label someone you don’t know as someone who would do something like that, just because of his appearance.” 

“My bad little miss ‘I’m going to study murderers for fun’, All I’m saying is he’s the type to want to be alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was some creep though. He has these like-” leave it to Seungmin to remind you of your goals in the most condescending way. You love your best friend you truly do, but at times you wonder if he truly understands why you set the goals you have. Not that he would ever fully get it. Not that anyone in the room would truly ever understand your fascination with the inner workings of the mind of a killer.

“ALRIGHT CLASS SETTLE DOWN.” Professor Wade says as he walks in, adjusting his glasses and placing his books on the podium at the front of the class, “Today as you’ve all heard we have a new student. Please come in and introduce yourself to the class.” he gestures for the student to come in from the hall. 

“My name is Yang Jeongin.” He says coldly as he stares toward the back of the class. “I transferred here from another country. That’s all you need to know about me.” Your professor stares blankly at him. Seungmin was right though, the guy is offputting. Sharp brown eyes, and long black hair. Dressed in all black, and topped off with a dead look in his eyes, anyone would think he was some ‘weirdo’ - a loner. 

“Alright, now why don't you go and sit beside Y/N.” Jeongin smiles at the teacher and makes his way up the lecture hall stairs to the seat next to yours. 

“Hi, I’m May!” May whispers excitedly to him, 

“Don’t talk to me.” He says looking annoyed as he finds his pen. May looks at him with a confused expression, she reaches for her phone and sends a text to your group chat.

Jeez, what's wrong with the new guy? He was so mean… she pouts. Seungmin put his hand on her shoulder and laughs

“I told you, you aren’t his type” He whispers, May turns to him and lightly punches him, 

“SHUT UP!” she yells, the silent class looks towards her, her face turns a bright shade of red from embarrassment “Sorry.” 

You study the boy next to you as your professor recaps the last lesson. As you noticed earlier, Jeongin wears all black. He’s got long black hair, but you can see the glint of silver jewelry shining through it. Piercings. He wears a silver chain around his neck, but the pendant is hidden under his shirt. Silver rings, and black boots. Sharp eyes that stare coldly towards the front of the room. He’s pretty but rude. Arrogance, radiating off of him. Does he think he’s too good to be here? 

“Staring is rude, if you want something- ask now or leave me alone.” he deadpans, looking at you as if he was looking through you. Almost as if he was reading your mind, “Whatever it is your brain is thinking about me, forget it. Whatever assumption you’re making about me is wrong.”

“I- was just admiring your outfit” you mutter, bringing your eyes back to your notes. 

“Don’t lie to me either. I can see through that shit. You’ll do better by being honest with me.” he slowly places his pen down and shifts so that he’s leaning closer to you, “Listen. I don’t care about whatever your first-year psych brain is attempting to say about me, I’m not your patient. So stop trying to analyze me.” he turns away from you and continues on taking notes. Whatever issue Yang Jeongin has, you want nothing to do with it. You can only hope the semester passes by quickly, and that you won’t have to ever interact with the person beside you.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a few excruciating hours of listening to Professor Wade go on about the psychological effects of trauma you’re finally released from prison. “Let's go to the cafe to study today.” You say with a smile, Seungmin nods in agreement and May follows along. You enjoy going to the cafe after classes, the warm evening breeze and the smell of fresh coffee is relaxing after class and the cozy environment of the cafe provided the perfect atmosphere to study in. Seungmin heads towards your usual booth, with May tailing behind him as you go to make your coffee orders. 

“One large Strawberry coconut refresher, one Large iced americano, and one Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel please” You smile at the cashier who punches in your order, 

“Three drinks for one person? Are you that thirsty?” A voice says from behind you, you turn around and look up at  Yang fucking Jeongin. 

“I'm here with May and Seungmin actually,” you smile, it was better to be civil than to give him the actual expression your brain so desperately wanted to give. He looks down at you seriously.

“Hm. Excuse me, could you add a second large americano please.” the cashier nods as he steps in front of you and pays for the order, he was so rude to May and now he’s paying for our drinks. What’s with him? “I’ll help you take these to your friends.” he picks up the Americanos and looks to you to guide him to your spot.

“Would you like to sit and study with us?” you ask with an awkward smile,

“Sure.” you walk up the steps to your booth where Seungmin sat watching May take selfies. You hand May her strawberry drink, and Seungmin his caramel drink, then slide into your spot on the opposite side of them. Jeongin sits next to you and places your coffee by you; May makes a confused face and looks back at her textbook. 

“He paid for our drinks so I asked if he wanted to study with us. I hope you don't mind.” You kick Seungmin  lightly under the table and force a smile at him notifying him to get May to cooperate 

“Oh. OH No we don't mind at all right May?” He smiles awkwardly and May only let out a huff. You spent the rest of the evening studying and joking amongst each other, though Jeongin stayed silent for most of it, only ever talking when it came to studying. Most of the time it felt less like he was studying the curriculum and more like he was studying the group the entire time, by the end of the night you could feel he was bored of your company. 

“I should head out guys, I have things to do around the house,” You say as you begin packing up your books, 

“Your apartment is in pristine condition, what could you possibly have to do?” Seungmin laughs 

“Tidying mainly” you sigh, “Chores don't get done themself you know” You let out a small sigh, 

“Chores? You live alone and you give yourself chores?” Seungmin looks at May and laughs at the confused look on her face “What I'm serious! If I lived alone I’d be free and live as I wanted!” 

“That’s why we always go to Y/N’s place. I can't imagine what your room looks like.” Seungmin laughs, Mays's face burns red, as she looks down to hide her clear embarrassment.

“Shut up.” Seungmin you idiot.

“I should head out as well.” Jeongin says abruptly, “Thanks for letting me stay.” He gets up, grabs his things and walks out. 

“He’s so strange,” May says, as you all get up to leave. Soon after you say your goodbyes and head out. 

The bus ride back to your apartment was quiet and short. Your brain was doing its best to wrap around something you didn’t quite know. A feeling you’d never had before. Some sort of familiarity but from what? You wouldn’t be able to tell. 

After a hot shower, You sit yourself on your couch and turn on the tv. “I should eat,” you mumble to myself, you walk to the kitchen as the news plays on the screen in your living room, 

“Reports from [your city]’s 11th ward state another young woman has been murdered,” the tv blares, “The woman was found in her home with a gunshot wound to the chest, [Your city] police say they have no witnesses and no leads.” The newscaster reads out,

Another one. This is starting to get closer to home too. It makes me sick to my stomach. You close your fridge. I'm not even hungry anymore. 

Tags: @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup @lieghscloud @foxinnie8 @scarletbedlam @kpoppin-to-the-beat @stay-berry @bbymatz @kurxxmi

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

I don't want to be an alarmist. I don't want to run around screaming "the sky is falling" all the time.

But that's who and what I am.

I'm a queer Jewish anarchist living in a red state.

And it's time to start screaming.

There WILL be another far-right coup attempt in 2024. And with 6 supreme court seats and a house speaker, it will likely succeed.

With the courts packed, no military coup is required. An electoral coup utilizing the courts can, has, and likely will happen in the US. They have been preparing for this.

If this far-right coup is successful, we are looking at a ramping up of the already in-progress genocide which begins with queer people but will likely ramp up against the Latino community specifically, Jews, and other marginalized communities.

What can we do?

Well, the things that can be done at this point I can't say online. The short answer is, a full-blown people's revolution. Which is unlikely.

Joining activist groups already working on this will help, joining or founding mutual aid networks is vital, organizing and involving yourself in your local queer community in person, not just online, and getting involved in activism that way. Fighting and involving yourself in local politics - school boards, sheriffs, city council - can help keep your city safe. If this means running, backing candidates, or showing up to every school board meeting making sure these assholes don't win their censorship fights, do it.

National elections obviously matter, but regardless of who wins this election, the far-right is in position to steal it and overthrow the government anyway. It's very likely they will at least try, and probably succeed. They spent years packing the courts for this moment.

As long as our current supreme court members are alive and in office, we are in immense danger.

In the meantime, just about everyone in our communities needs to have a plan in place to get the fuck out of AT LEAST their conservative state, IDEALLY the country.

Flee the country

It can takes months to renew a passport, if you will need to in the next few years, do it now. US passports are self-ID, make the best choice for your safety, whatever that is.

Countries that offer the longest tourist visas (temporary, but get you in fast and some can be as many as 180 days)

See if you can transfer to another country at your workplace, if that's a thing you can do.

Make sure you are fully vaccinated as required by the places you are considering fleeing. Some countries require more/different vaccines than the US.

If leaving the country will be impossible, make connections with people in blue states and try to get there, or prepare to stand your ground and defend yourself and your community. I know most of my fellow Appalachians will be standing our ground. They can pry Appalachia from our dead queer hands. They can try.

Can't leave? Hide or Fight.

Stock up on your medications. Trans femmes have an easier time with this, you can have your cis women friends get a script for spiro via a dermatologist "for hormonal acne", and older women in your circle can easily get estrogen scripts "for menopause". These are also available online more readily, but be careful. Trans mascs may need to have cis men in their lives get t scripts, or take a lower dose of what's prescribed, then when your bloodwork is low, get a higher script than what you need and stockpile. This is medication fraud, and a crime. T is a controlled substance. But do what you gotta do.

Stock up on birth control methods, plan b, and abortion pills if you need them. These will likely be banned. You can get a long-term implant now, or get an additional birth control prescription via an online pharmacy, in addition to the one you are already using to create a stockpile.

Get medical training. Stop The Bleed is available online, for everyone, for free. EMT basic is widely available and relatively affordable.

Get armed, if you can. This especially applies to people running rural queer communes, as is popular in my region. We've all read Parable of the Talents (I hope), they will come for you. Arm, train, and fortify. Develop connections outside your commune who will worry about you if you suddenly go out of contact. You're not safe because you're rural and growing your own food. When they come, you want to at least take them with you.

Save, download, stockpile queer literature, queer websites, and resources that may be destroyed. A lot of people download the entirety of wikipedia. Scrubbing queer content from society will start once the far-right have taken over. That process has already begun on a smaller scale.

Join preexisting activist groups already working against these people, regardless of whether they are specifically queer-focused or not. Building in-person, offline connections will be vital. Information control will be the norm. Online organizing may become impossible.

If necessary and possible, scrub your online information, go deep in the closet, and wait it out. This is impossible for most of us, but it was a valid strategy for a lot of queer people and other minorities during the Holocaust. A lot of people survived by pretending to be something they weren't and simply waiting it out, obfuscating and working against the fascists when they could, and surviving to tell the story. Not everyone is a revolutionary. This often involved lesbian couples marrying gay men. Temporary detransition, and simply laying low. Fascist states fall eventually.

[seas-storyarchive]

Angelradio - au

look, to those who want sera and rosie at each others throats for the antler in alastors pants, i offer you another solution:

they are at each others throats because rosie wants what's best for her bestie who doesn't know shit about the sweet words he spews and doesn't trust the seraphim not to take advantage of him. also hellborns are possessive over what they consider theirs. she can read a situation better than alastor, but she will die and ascend to heaven to protect her dumbass friend from his stupidity if she has to, the ultimate ride and die fiendship (yes, fiend ship) if you will.

Alastor held in a sigh - as he knew this whole endeavor was pointless. Him, Vagatha, Charlotte - in heaven, to plead for favor of the Hotel and the progress it would have on the souls of sinners. The opening number to Heaven? Hmm.. not bad.

"And, this is Sera!" The smaller Serraphim intoduced the taller one.

"Greetings." She said, her voice monotone.

Oh, it's charm time - Charlotte was dismissed and- hmm.. Vagatha looked nervous. Oooh, delicious. Well, his charms always worked. Time to lay it on.

He bowed to them, ever the gentleman. "Hello, fairest Serraphims. My name is Alastor." He took their hands and kissed them, fighting his instincts to take a nibble. "We thank you for hearing us out in our endeavors for helping Sinners atone for their lives led of Sin to have a chance for redemption. It is the highest of honors, to bask not only in heaven," he smiled at Sera, "but in your beauty."

Emily was excited. "He's so nice!" She flapped her wings to hover up and look Alastor in the eyes, blocking Sera's face from him. "I hope you get a chance to see Heaven, for more than just a day at least. I mean, I hope you get redeemed but- oh why are you even down there!"

Ah, energy to match Charlotte's. Welp, time to play along it seemed.

"Ah, worry not about myself, young Emilia." He waited for her to land. "No, no, I am but a humble hotelier for our cause. My job is to help others, moreso than help myself, so they may cross those gates to be with loved ones upon these high clouds of light."

"Y- yeah! He's helping us with the hotel!" Charlie had been too shocked to speak. "But, well, we were hoping to get heaven on board. To smooth the process along." Vaggie nodded beside her.

"We.. will see." Sera said finally, as she had finally blinked away her initial starstruckness at Alastor's charms.

--

"Why hide the fact that you're an angel just like us?" Oh, so Vagatha was an angel and-

"There has to be some way to get Heaven on board!"

Vaggie and Charlie looked at Alastor like he'd suddenly gained a second head.

"Serraphims, Angels, Saints, Arch Angels! Please! There has to be something, ANYTHING!" What was he even saying? He wanted to watch people FAIL. He'd made that clear- but.. they'd come this far, fought so hard. Had a bit of hope truly come back to him? No.

But.. but Angel HAD come so far, that those on high hadn't seen. Had no frame of reference for-

"Fine." All heads as one turned to Sera, Alastor heard some pops - curse his ears.

"Wait- what!?" Adam and Lute were outraged.

"I- thank you! Thank you, Sera! We-"

"There is, one condition." Sera explained, cutting Charlie off. "You, Alastor," the Serraphim looked to the deer man, "must fully commit to this program."

Alastor tilted his head. To get Heaven's support.. he had to fully commit to the program. The Program that he was SPONSORING. That he had no interest in doing. That.. he promised the help with. He'd.. made a deal. That was why they were there to begin with. God, this was his punishment, wasn't it.

Fuck.. oh for-

Alright, fine.

He took a deep breath. "Of course. I accept these terms."

Just.. slow progress. Let himself take part, but slowly. It was for the sake of the hotel. For the sake of.. the future.

"But!" He pointed from Sera to Adam and his extermination friend. "The extermination in one month must be cancelled!"

"You can go into your stupid little program," Adam got in Alastor's face, the First Man was angry while the Radio Demon feigned calmness thanks to his smile, "but fuck OFF with you telling me what I-"

"Very well."

"WHAT!?" All eyes looked to Sera again, some necks snapped.

"Hmm." Alastor hummed, genuinely grateful, with a smile. "Much appreciated, High Serraphim. Truly."

"I look forward to seeing you succeed, Alastor." Sera said with a soft smile.

--

"Al! I'm so happy you decided to join the program!" Charlie said with a smile as they stepped out of the Heaven embassy.

"I.. said what I did to help the Hotel." Alastor said with a sigh. He'd fucking done it now. Ho boy.

"You alright?" Charlie asked, looking at his face.

"I just don't think they'll follow through on ending the extermination." Alastor said, being partially true.

"Why would you say that?"

"Charlotte, oh dear Charlotte.. you know nothing of the world of Men." Alastor sighed. Pitiful, really.

--

"So, Al.. what did you want to talk to me about?" Alastor was with Rosie, having hung around Cannibal Town after Charlie led the Cannibals to the Hotel as a precaution.

"It's.." he sighed as Rosie poured them some tea. "You know how you are my best friend, in all of Hell, yes?"

Oh, this shit again? No, he wasn't about to butter her up and NOT discuss anything with her. "What did you do now?"

Alastor made a groan, distorted by his staff, as he flopped back dramatically. "I agreed to partake in this.. reforming of a sinner dribble."

Oh? Oh! "So, you're leavin' me? Aftah all these years of friendship and-"

"No! No! I.." Alastor groaned. "I said it to help get Sera to promise not to-"

"Oh! Sera is her name?" Rosie was now curious. "Is my little Ally-waly finally becoming a man? I'll give you tips on what to say, how to act! Oh! I'll even make you a new suit! Tell Auntie everything!"

"Never call yourself that in reference to me ever again. And I don't need your patronization."

Rosie laughed. "I just, ya know, you found someone."

"She is merely a business associate."

"You wanted an army because you don't trust her. That's more than an associate, doll face." Rosie said, sipping her tea quickly before looking to him again. "So, what does she look like?"

Alastor groaned. "Super tall, cedar-brown skin, white freckles and a white streak going down her nose, and hip-length curled hair colored in a silver-like ombre, white irises, blue-gray sclera, deep-purple pupils- are, are you taking notes?"

Rosie ignored him for a moment to finish jotting down the description. "I need to know who to look for up there if you get your heart broken. Continue."

"I- this is ridiculous! How would you even know if-"

"I'm a woman, we have our ways. And this will be your first relationship, gotta be ready to put the fear of whatever her god looks like into her if she hurts my wittle Ally-waly." Rosie pinched his cheek with a laugh, only to get her hand smacked away and laugh harder.

There was silence, both sipping their tea.

"You'd really hunt her down if she harmed me?" Alastor was curious, and genuinely touched.

"I'd hunt that bitch for fun." Rosie said. "Just give me the word."

"If the hotel gets attacked, consider it sent." Alastor said, grabbing a biscuit.

[sing-me-under]

Sometimes I like to think up scenarios where Bruce dies either shortly before or shortly after meeting Tim, and the entire focus is on years into the future (like present day comics) where the world just keeps going except Bruce Wayne is dead.

There’s still an earthquake. There is an entire city wrecked with grief that’s never quite stopped grieving. There’s no uber wealthy and influential Bruce Wayne, but there’s still an entire JL and many influential people who loved Bruce willing to help Gotham in his name at least. Life goes on.

Like, Jason still resurrected. He probably already resurrected and was just wandering Gotham or in a hospital by the time Bruce died. He comes back to Gotham fully aware that his dad is dead and just sticks to the underground, never interacting with the Gotham hero community.

Speaking of the Gotham hero community, it’s more disconnected without the bats. There’s still the Birds of Prey, of course there is, but the heroes who rose up inspired by Batman and Robin just never get that spark of surety and passion. Gotham itself just feels a bit more lifeless, a bit more hopeless, without a Batman and a Robin.

Maybe there is a Batman actually, but it’s usually someone else in the suit. Maybe it’s Nightwing trying to be Batman in that initial grief but giving up at the behest of his friends. Maybe he never returned to Gotham at all, absolutely refused to. This cursed city is the gravesite of four family members. Maybe it’s Superman in the bat suit once every few months or even one a year, making himself seen just enough to keep the urban legend alive. Maybe it’s someone else entirely. A different vigilante using the name but everyone knows they’re not really Batman.

But there’s definitely no more Robins. No one thinks of the second Robin and aspires to his fate. Maybe Tim temporarily takes on the Robin mantle, but the weight is too heavy and he makes a different name for himself. Maybe he tried to reach Dick and bring him back to Gotham, but he never succeeded in convincing anyone. Maybe he went straight to Bruce a la fanon and tried to help, but he couldn’t.

I had this one idea where Bruce saw this scrawny boarding school kid with a whole lot of spark and the exact same vision for Gotham’s future, and instead of letting him be Robin at Alfred’s behest and with Dick’s acknowledgement, he instead decided “when this kid is old enough, I want him to be my successor.” and he starts teaching Tim the basics. He already failed Dick and Jason, so he resolved to not let Tim be an active vigilante until he’s 18. He fucking dies anyway but leaves a will and instructions for Tim to basically learn from the same teachers when he’s of age, but Tim’s mom dies and his dad is comatose so Tim goes “Fuck It. Gotham needs me now” and drops out and speedruns his world tour way earlier than Bruce would have wanted.

There’s still Damian, somewhere. Maybe Talia drops him off with Dick when it’s apparent she can’t protect Damian in the League, not from its cruelties and certainly not from her father. Nightwing is unobtrusive to the grand scheme of the LoA. Talia may not like Dick, may have been frequently at odds with him during his Robin days when a family with Bruce seemed like it was in the palm of her hand, but she trusts him, unfortunately. He was loyal to Bruce, at least, despite all their disagreements and domestic hostilities. Dick looks at Damian and thinks “I’m the same age Bruce was when he took me in. Damian is the same age I was. I can’t do this, but damn it all if I don’t try” and the regret fills him and he’s doing everything not to drown in it.

But there’s still Cass somewhere, probably with Barbara. There’s still Helena and Stephanie and Duke and the kids who became Robins in another timeline but choose a different name to rally under here, if they take up arms at all.

At least without Batman, there’s no Joker. He went down in that helicopter over the Atlantic Ocean and never showed his face again.

Regardless, this world is just a little more worse for wear, a little more tired and weary. This is a world where Batman dies, not with a bang but with a sizzle, and he doesn’t come back. No one is sure if he’d even want to.

[bronanlynch]

so dgs2 sure is a video game huh. anyway here are my lawyer file clerk rankings (this one is more unhinged than usual I’m so sorry I played most of dgs2-5 in one day and I think my brain kind of melted)

ryutaro: I do generally have a ‘no working for teenagers’ rule in these but honestly ryutaro does seem to be the best boss of any of the teenage lawyers, and at least knows what it’s like as the person doing the admin stuff and therefore wouldn’t be too annoyingly demanding abt it. 6/10, would generally prefer as a coworker rather than a boss

auchi: sure seems like he’s going through some stuff and taking it out on everyone around him which would make him unpleasant as an employer. also I would not be able to keep up the polite conversation where every single day he expects me to tell him how much his hair has grown back and every day I have to pretend that it’s grown at all. 2/10, no thanks

ryunosuke: last time I said that because he has susato he wouldn’t necessarily need another file clerk but reforming the entire japanese legal system would create a lot of paperwork so I am now fully on board with working for him. he meets so many of my standards: he consults his notes in court which means he needs his files done correctly, he’s polite to the people he works with, he believes in truth and justice and making the world a better place, and his cases are always absolutely fucking wild so the documents I’d be filing would be interesting to read. also, if he’s doing for mikotoba, with his government connections, presumably he has access to some decent government funding which probably means decent benefits for me. 10/10, I am emailing him my resume as we speak

van zieks (with masked apprentice): I’ve got to be honest with you, if I show up to my first day of work and my boss is like “so this is your coworker, he’s not allowed to talk to anyone and he has to wear that mask at all times, it’s not punishment” I am going to think that I’ve just accidentally joined a cult, and I will immediately be turning around and asking the non-existent hr department to assign me to literally any other prosecutor. no, learning that it’s my boss’s boss’s idea would not make me feel any better. might be convinced to stay if I see my new coworker uncork a wine bottle with a sword because seriously how is he doing that. .5/10, for sheer morbid curiosity

van zieks (post-game): so obviously there are still a few drawbacks here but honestly, on the whole, after he goes through his character development, I think he’d be a pretty decent option. partially this is because of what kazuma says about how when he’s especially picky abt something he just does it himself, which I appreciate in a boss, because it means he would rather do something himself than expect me to do something impossible and then yell at me for failing to live up to his expectations. (yes kazuma was talking abt van zieks organizing his wine collection for that bit, but shh I’m extrapolating) anyway, it would be hypocritical to dock points for him being a neurotic perfectionist so there’s that too. I do also appreciate how much he hates rich people who get away with shit because they’re rich. me too, buddy. like I’m still fundamentally opposed to carceral justice systems and think that while putting rich people in jail for their crimes may appear to present a short-term solution (and I suppose if I had to choose, it is preferable to putting poor people in jail for crimes that they’re driven to by unjust societal pressures & are more likely to receive harsher punishments for) it will not provide a long-term answer to the overarching problem of uh. having an aristocracy let alone a monarchy. but. there are worse people to work for. 6.5/10, would prefer not to be affiliated with the british government but

stronghart: including him because he was previously a prosecutor and tbh even setting aside the blackmail and the murder conspiracies, he just seems like an absolute fucking nightmare to deal with. if I asked my boss a simple question abt information I needed in order to do my job and he responded by telling me exactly how much time down to the second that he was going to let me speak for or exactly how late to his next meeting he is, I would lose my fucking mind. also, he constantly has people doing shit that is just simply not their fucking job. why was van zieks preparing the meeting room for the forensics conference! I hate people who think they’re too good for that sort of work but it is quite literally not his fucking job. 0/10, please I can give myself enough time anxiety without a boss doing it for me

klint van zieks: now. listen. please see my rating of byrne faraday for my known weakness for prosecutors who do vigilante shit bc they know that the courts are rigged and will never convict the wealthy & powerful. I’m including him for completeness’s sake but I fully do not think I can be objective here because unfortunately I cannot blame him for thinking that the british aristocracy is an evil institution (see above). anyway. Idk. everyone who worked with/for him seemed to respect him a lot so like, I’ll believe that he was a pretty ok boss. 5/10, loses points on principle for being a british aristocrat himself, sorry :/ (and also lack of data)

kazuma (post-game): I love him, is the thing. I am even less capable of being objective abt kazuma than I am abt anyone else. he is literally just the perfect man. he’s competent, he’s rude to people who deserve it but he doesn’t seem like he’d go out of his way to be rude to like, innocent minimum wage employees, and he seems reasonably organized without being overly demanding abt it. I think my one caveat here is that I’m honestly not sure how long he lasts as a prosecutor for the british government before realizing that no, the system is still bad and wealthy/titled people still can cause harm without facing consequences, and that’s the point where he either quits his job or decides that maybe murder is the answer after all, and neither of those are great for long-term job security as his employee. to be clear, I support him fully in either endeavor. 10/10, my roommate was right I’m glad I left him room to improve his score

(previous games here: aa1 | aa2 | aa3 | aa4 | aai | dgs1 )

[annwayne]

The Red Logs: Return to the Temple Ch. 20

Ch. 20: Ending Notes (Utility Post)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Ao3 Link Here

Well holy fuck I actually finished something. Part one of a who knows how long this’ll be, but I finished it! This is the first long fic I’ve ever finished before so I’m extremely proud. :> Unfortunately, the end is kinda cliffhangery lol. Sorry-but the idea was too good to not do! The next work in the series, The Red Logs: Murder in a Bar will come out in weekly installments after I’ve fully written the story (hopefully). Due to the nature of the fic, that feels like the best choice. So it may be another year before TRL’s sees the second fic in the series. Until then, I hope you’ve enjoyed The Red Logs: Return to the Temple. There’s a lot more TRL’s story I want to tell, so don’t worry. It’s not the last you’ll see of Anya and the boys. Thank you for reading. Feel free to come into my ask box to scream (positively) about the fic.

Now I'd like to say thanks to a few people who either encouraged me, were beta readers, and/or helped iron out wrinkles in the story!

Thank you to my partner and best friend, @inconsistent-at-best aka the one and only, Perry the Platypus. You listened to me plot, rant, and read this fic a hundred times over and I'm so lucky to have a partner like you rooting me on in my silly little hobbies.

Thank you to my fellow smut connoisseur and resident master in all things force related, Peter! He doesn't have a tumblr but I'll be sure to show him this xD You helped me a ton with plotting things out by being a sound board. Also without your in depth knowledge about the force, this story would be lacking much luster.

Thank you @wolveria for encouraging me when I felt like interaction was too low and helped me realize the internet is a finicky place and that doesn't reflect the quality of my art.

Thank you @midnight-sun-01 my first fan and now dear friend. Your words of encouragement meant a great deal to me over this year of writing. I'd rather your in depth squeals of joy over thousands of kudos any day. May all your writing endeavors go as smoothly as Crosshair's sliding. (You know when he does his lil leggy thing-you know)

And finally, thank you reader for coming so far on this journey with me! I hope to see you in the following fics, as I have a lot more of Anya's story left to tell. Until then, may you find your blorbos in ao3 bliss.

(If you'd like to be tagged when the next series of the red logs comes out on tumblr, leave a comment below!)

Dividers by Djarrex

[captainsquality]

ok so. i am so on board w this. but im gonna yammer on infographic style about some core points of driving in winter weather bc even living in an area where it is a yearly expectation, I know a lot of adults of multiple different generations who have never learned or been taught this stuff at all!! Nevermind the people who have moved more recently from areas where it's a non-issue and thus never covered.

so bc i functionally cannot shut up ever and literally have nothing else to do, here's some of the basic important tips my parents, who Know Their Shit, hammered into our heads annually:

first, traction on snowy roads is awful, awful, awful, AWFUL, and in a completely different way than in rainy conditions, but some basics from there still apply:

give yourself AND other drivers a double size or LARGER distance for stops and for turns. this is a priority in ANY type of adverse weather. My mom's first words in these cases are always 'don't rush. it's better to be late than to never arrive.'

accelerate gradually. the traction issues on snowy roads work such that if you try to gun it out of a stoplight or a turn, or even just accelerate normally, you will almost certainly spin out and possibly even fishtail in place and hit another car. If the snow is deep enough, you can spin yourself into a rut and be stranded. If you feel your vehicle sliding as you start the gas, just ease off of it and don't kneejerk!

take extra care when braking. anti-lock brakes are much more standard/common in cars these days, but still not nearly universal, nor are they immune to fucking up or failing on you. If this happens or if your ride just doesn't have anti-lock, DO NOT STOMP THE BRAKES. Pump them, like you're inflating an air mattress or whatever. You'll need to start the braking process much sooner in either case but pumping the brakes in this way helps maintain the type of traction you need to reduce speed.

turns from a stoplight or stopped position- give yourself way more space than you usually would and I mean WAY more. You have to account for other vehicles here, but also the fact you will need to accelerate much more slowly, and often in general drive at a greatly reduced speed.

That said, please note: you WILL need to drive at a reduced speed in this weather. Plan for that and depart earlier than usual, also keeping in mind you may have to clean snow off your car and scrape ice from the windshield!!

In the event your car does lose traction such that it begins to fishtail- this is an alarming experience ESPECIALLY the first time you go through it, but the best thing to do in this case is to LET GO OF THE ACCELERATOR, and turn your steering wheel WITH/INTO the direction of the fishtail, NOT AGAINST IT. This will help reorient your car so you can regain control and fully correct your position etc!!

I have had fishtailing experiences many times by now even with proper and careful driving; sometimes it's just gonna happen, you know? Most recent one was literally day before yesterday when I was driving my mom home from an appointment! Second to last turn from our neighborhood!

It was startling and briefly alarming but the points of -let off the gas and -steer INTO the hook meant that we only took the one swing, the back of the car booped off the proper road a little, but then we were stable again and continued on without incident.

Driving can be a very intuitive and tactile task in my experience. It takes a lot of time to learn to drive safely and confidently, which is why we have things like driver's ed and different stages of licensing etc. But I honestly think that- at least within the context of the US, where I live- basic rules for driving in various common inclement conditions INCLUDING ones that are not typical to your area or region should be not just more common, but the standard.

Car travel is extremely necessary here; even with better infrastructure, the layout and regional factors etc here in the US mean that there will always be areas that by necessity must rely more on car travel. Like here in Kansas, where there's a lot of farmland and more remote, rural areas with fewer resources and civil services immediately available to them.

Also, people travel. Like they go on road trips. Kids move out of state for college. Job changes take families to new cities with different weathers and environments. The nature of car travel in the US often means that sooner or later, even if your usual day to day in your hometown just about NEVER involves x or y conditions, you may well take a trip out of town to an unfamiliar area where those conditions DO happen, and knowing the safety rules for driving in them is vital. Driver's Ed needs to account, wherever it is being taught, for long distance travel because the US has a very wide range of geographical features, infrastructures, and weather conditions. anyway. im cutting myself off before I write an entire novel but. pls be safe driving, no matter your age or experience level with it!!

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Reassessment” [ 4.09 ]♮PART 1, half 1

RECAP

Over a series of shots from the partially animated and fully bananas “The Other Side” dance sequence:

Vanessa, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

Our ensemble took on a cinematic slant as they tackled some major ground on ongoing storylines -- Isa finally flew out to Los Angeles and connected with their estranged biological father, Zachary, or better known as Z.D. Roman. Yindra braved the journey back to L.A. to meet with the producer who has interest in her; Jade began her new job as a seamstress and designer at the local upstart Pinhead Threads. Despite an… interesting start with some new experiences at a party, Jade felt optimistic for the road ahead with this new role, as well as grateful for the cohort of friends she already has.

Jade: I’m lucky to know some pretty cool people.

At the same time, Lucas and Charlie endeavored to uncover the seedy underside of the school board elections, ultimately exposing the corruption of conservative members Yancy and Graham -- though not without some action-packed thrills of their own (suffice to say, if we had a nickel for every time Lucas went speed racing around Manhattan in a car that wasn’t his with a companion gay in the passenger seat that led to trouble, we’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice).

Charlie: WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

The good news is that through the corruption, the bad publicity was just enough to hand Jack victory in the elections, which means ideally positive change for the district for many years to come. Riley also helped another friend find personal victory, helping Nigel rediscover himself and grasp for a new outlook on what he wants his future to be.

But not everything is so peachy, as long-awaited challenges loom on the horizon. The Turner transfer audition is just around the corner, and it’s having a palpable effect on Vanessa and Zay’s relationship -- in a desperate maneuver to preserve their romance from the friction, they decided to take some distance from one another until the auditions are done.

Zay: Vanessa. [ a beat ] Good luck. Vanessa: Ditto.

On the flip side, Farkle only seems to dig himself deeper into his unpopular romance with Jordan, so determined to hold on despite the naysayers (including his own doubts) that he may just lose everyone (including himself) to keep it.

Above all, time keeps marching on, and it waits for no one. Opening night of Ghost: The Musical is right around the corner, keeping Riley plenty busy. The Turner audition shadow only grows larger. And despite how much we’d like to look away and pretend it’s not there, deterioration and decay creeps up on us in all facets of life.

The question is, what’s resilient and healthy enough to persevere -- and what’s destined to wilt into nothing? 

Guess we’ll find out soon enough. As the curtain rises on another episode…

End of recap.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

We start close on ROSARIO GAO, her expression detached and scrutinizing as always.

Rosario: Welcome to the penultimate.

She doesn’t have to explain what that means. For the Turner transfers, they already know. They’ve lived it all year long, and now they’re finally here -- the last week of preparation before their auditions. The countdown to judgment day. We listen to Gao continue to lecture as the camera pans across the remaining transfer hopefuls, viewing them from behind. A faceless cohort, rather than individuals each with their own deep desires for being there.

That’s how Gao has to see them. Before long, not many of them will still be in her world.

Rosario: I should hope it goes without saying, but this week should not only be about rehearsal and refinement. More importantly, I hope each of you will take this final week to seriously consider where you are today. To take a deep, reflective evaluation of where you are, and where you’ve come from.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

At his desk, CHARLIE GARDNER finishes updating his agenda. He’s jotted down times for his audition slots and interviews at his transfer choices, his gap year dwindling to a close.

Rosario, voiceover: To think about where you want to go…

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

RILEY MATTHEWS is in the dressing room, finishing wiping off her make-up from another run-through. She reaches up and uses a pen to cross off the dates on the mini-calendar pinned to the mirror.

Opening night is just a few days away.

Rosario, voiceover: And whether you’re prepared for what that entails.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Back front and center, Gao finishes her point with the bulletin that she’ll be doing a mandatory check-in with each of them throughout the week, intending to assess their progress and address any questions they may have before auditions. Don’t want to wait on a question that might cost you your chance until it’s too late. She also hopes they take this meeting seriously -- they may gain invaluable insight if they come prepared to engage at a mature, authentic level.

But mostly, they’re all bracing themselves for what comes next. The moment of truth, when they put it all on the line and take their shot.

Rosario: I hope, for all of your sakes, that you’re ready to face it.

With that, they’re dismissed. At the front of the pack, ZAY BABINEAUX and VANESSA JOHNSON keep their chins high, not willing to show even a flicker of weakness so close to the end. That includes with each other -- it seems their stance from the end of last episode hasn’t changed.

When they leave, they pass one another without acknowledgement, marching off to face the music alone.

Cue title sequence.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

The tests of fate may be right around the corner, but for now, Riley is soaking up as much tranquility as she can get. It’s the weekend before the opening night week for Ghost, so the days to come are packed full of dress rehearsals, which on top of her school schedule means she’s going to be busier than ever.

Even so, she’s taking her sweet time this morning… in fact, she doesn’t seem at all keen to go off running into rehearsal mania. Instead, she’s having breakfast with LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, the two of them sharing a plate of pancakes and fruit on the couch.

Apparently, she’s not the only one loitering later than she should.

Lucas: [ without urgency ] I really have to go. Riley: I know, I know. [ hedging ] But not without finishing your breakfast. Lucas: There’s like one bite left. Riley: Yes, and it’s yours.

She insists, spearing the last piece with her fork and pointing it in his direction. He rolls his eyes, but obliges, allowing her to feed it to him. A bit of syrup drips off and lingers on the corner of his mouth, which Riley happily takes the opportunity to lean forward and briskly kiss away for good measure.

While Riley gets up to put the dishes in the sink, Lucas starts to throw his backpack together. Speaking of the time, he remarks that he really shouldn’t be pushing his luck.

Lucas: Given everything I pulled last month, it’s honestly shocking I’m still employed. Riley: Oh, please. There’s no proof. All the GoFundMes still have you listed as that anonymous good samaritan. Lucas: Yeah, and I wonder who set up all of those… Riley, innocently: Crazy, right? I guess the world just can’t help but fall for your unique, iridescent charm. Lucas: More like I managed to charm one person who happens to have a scarily good instinct for public organizing. [ off her coy shrug ] Anyway, yeah there’s not a ton of proof to a normie, but anyone who actually knows the school board staff would be able to figure it out in like five seconds. There’s no way Evelyn doesn’t know it was me.

Maybe so, but it hasn’t come back to bite him yet. Riley encourages him to try not to wait for the other shoe to drop, and just keep doing what he’s doing. Which is to say, all good things.

Even if their increasingly busy schedules aren’t doing them any favors. Riley laments the fact that she’s so booked up as she crosses back over to join him, considering it makes mornings like this basically the only time she can really spare with him.

Lucas: I thought you liked being busy. You were amped up a couple weeks ago, and you were even busier then with Jack’s flailing election. Riley: Flailing, successful election, thank you very much.

But Riley concedes his point. She comfortably settles onto his lap and makes herself at home, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Yes, she was busy before, but it was a different kind. It was a balance of stuff, and the campaign nonsense energized her like nothing else because it was about something.

Riley: Now it’s just musical stuff and the occasional school project. And it’s not that I don’t enjoy that, but it’s a different pace. Different kind of busy, different demands.

And with opening night in sight, way less balance. Doing a musical is fun, and everything, but where is her time to volunteer with the shelter… spend time with her friends…

Riley: Appreciate my uniquely iridescent boyfriend?

She touches his jaw and leans in for a soft kiss, slow and teasing. Lucas doesn’t have any complaints -- or he might have one, along the lines of the whole late-for-work thing, but she’s not the only one with a partner with irresistible charm -- though he does interrupt their next kiss to comment.

Lucas: More like your uniquely unpleasant, soon-to-be unemployed boyfriend. Riley: Unpleasant, successful soon-to-be unemployed boyfriend, thank you very much.

She takes his self-deprecation in stride, because for once, it doesn’t feel grounded in disdain. Things are good, all things considered, and his mood reflects that. It’s a far cry from how things felt at the start of the school year -- it feels stable.

That is, except that there’s not enough time to appreciate it… Riley accepts another long kiss from him with a smile, obviously in no rush to go to rehearsal.

Lucky for both of them, the universe intervenes, in the form of one Charlie Gardner. He emerges from his bedroom and walks in on them sharing another kiss, immediately throwing up his hands to cover his eyes and apologizing.

Charlie: Oh, shoot. Sorry, sorry, sorry --

Riley and Lucas pull apart, the latter characteristically embarrassed while the former just looks amused. They shake their heads at Charlie’s profuse condolences as he tries to navigate the room without looking at them, nearly tripping over the arm of the couch in the process.

Charlie: It’s like I’m not even here! Riley: [ with laughter ] Charlie! Chill. Lucas: Yeah, don’t break your neck over it.

It’s really not that deep. Charlie relents, holding his hands up in surrender before dropping them at his sides. Based on the smile on his face, though, it’s unclear how much of his reaction was just to pick on them.

Now that he can see them, they ask what’s up with him this week. Apparently, it’s packed for him too.

Charlie: I’ve got some family stuff going on that I anticipate is going to take up a lot of my free hours, because otherwise, I’ve got a couple of college auditions lined up. Lucas: Auditions? Are you doing a performing thing? Charlie: Gosh, no. No, no majors, but I’ve marked an interest in minoring at both Columbia and Pace, so the admissions folks asked if I’d be open to coming in. More of a friendly assessment than anything, I think.

That’s on top of a couple of traditional interviews he has for other schools, so the process is picking up fast. He seems in good spirits about it, though, and far more invested than last year. Riley beams.

Charlie: But in spite of my schedule, Riley, I promise you that come hell or high water, I will be there for opening night. On my honor.

She waves him off, but it’s clear she appreciates the reassurance.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Opening night is also penned in on Zay’s calendar on his bulletin board, showing he’s got it locked in as well. That’s not his focus at the moment, though -- Zay is on his bed, looking through his emails. He’s dressed like he was off to go choreograph in the garage, but something has him sidetracked.

It doesn’t take long to discover what. The email he has open on his phone is from the producing team of the Jagged Little Pill touring production, one of those offhand auditions Zay went to with Yindra. After a couple weeks of open call, they’re digging into callbacks, and they’re interested in seeing him again.

This isn’t the first line Zay has caught from that audition run either. He’s nabbed two or three callbacks, all slated for the coming week.

The prospect is exciting and all too tempting. Sure, he probably won’t get it, and he’s gunning for transfer anyway, but what’s the harm in showing up? All experience is good experience, isn’t it? But said Turner audition is on the horizon too…

And it’s what he should be working on right now. So he tables the offers for now, popping in his headphones and dutifully heading for the garage.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa is equally pressed about auditions, but with none of the exciting prospects. She’s further along in her choreography, as she’s been working it to death, but she doesn’t seem more confident. If anything, she’s even more stressed, sweaty and obsessing over the smallest details.

Isolation doesn’t help. With her and Zay taking their “space,” it’s like her social life is in limbo. There’s no boyfriend to distract her, and no new friends to pal around with, so all she’s got is the grind. Somehow, it’s not as comforting as it was before.

After a misstep in her routine, she cusses in frustration, kicking at the floor and descending into a sitting position. She takes a deep breath and hides her head in her knees. When she lifts her gaze again, she looks at her reflection in the mirror, then frowns.

She instinctively reaches for her phone. Part of her wants to text Zay. Not for comfort, or romantic distraction, but because he knows what she’s talking about. He gets it. They get each other, to some degree, even if their shared competitive edge is threatening to burn the world down with it.

But she can’t. She doesn’t need the help. They’re taking space, and she doesn’t want to be the thing that rushes the ruin. She doesn’t want it all to go up in flames -- their dynamic, her transfer prospects. Herself.

She’s on her own.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Not so for JACK HUNTER, who is enjoying a warm welcome into his transition as the brand new school board member. He’s got his very own office to show for it, which he’s finally finished unpacking and decorating. He puts the finishing touch on it by placing a framed photograph of the family picture taken during Thanksgiving on his desk -- all his favorite people together, happy, and all smiles.

He mirrors that smile now, then looks up at satisfaction at his new digs. There’s shades of the former principal’s office in it, the odd item here and there that was transplanted directly from it, but it’s fresh too. It’s bigger, and better, and full of new promise. All the hopes he has for what change he can make in this new position.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

He emerges from his office and walks a few steps to the assistant cubes, greeting Lucas with a grin. Here they both are! Once they discuss Jack’s move into his office, Lucas makes a face.

Lucas: Honestly, this is kinda weird. Working in the same place. Jack: Whatever do you mean? It’s just like we’re back at Adams. Lucas: That’s something I decidedly never asked for.

Big talk, Lucas. Jack rolls his eyes, and is about to retort, but they’re interrupted by another big move going on down the hall. In this case, it’s people leaving office spaces -- JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM and HARRISON YANCY are clearing out theirs, after formally resigning from their positions amidst the controversies.

Suffice to say, they won’t be missed. They glance down the hall with their arms full of boxes and spot Jack and Lucas, who can’t help but smile. They both offer pithy waves, totally unbothered. Buh-bye!

Graham and Yancy scowl, before continuing their march towards the elevators.

Mm, this schadenfreude and karma combo is so tasty… Jack waits until they’re out of earshot, then offers a comment of his own.

Jack: Looks like we’ll be filling two more open seats. Maybe Riley should take on the campaigns -- she had a lot of luck with the last one.

You ain’t wrong, Jack! Off Lucas’s smirk --

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

As much genuine fun as Riley would probably have in that endeavor, she’s fully booked at the present moment. Right now, she’s spending her last vestiges of freedom before dress rehearsals eat her to have lunch with NIGEL CHEY. They’re discussing their current course work and how the hell Riley is balancing it with all the dress rehearsal stuff.

Riley: I suppose that just comes with the territory. But I’ll admit, I don’t love how I have zero time in the coming week. Nigel: Honestly, I wish that were my problem. Not that like, I had a role specifically -- I’m over that, I promise. More the whole having so much acting to do. Rather than literally any other problem I have.

Which namely, right now, is his dance class this semester. His major requires an introductory movement course, similar to Farkle’s from last semester, which Nigel begrudges having to take since he spent four years doing dance curriculum at Adams.

Riley: So it should be okay, right? Easy-peasy. Nigel: God, you’d think! But no, our professor is insane and decided this introductory “movement” class is like auditioning for the damn Metropolitan ballet.

Riley laughs. As Nigel continues to grouse, the diner door opens, Vanessa stepping inside. She quickly scans the room as she approaches the counter, noticing Riley and Nigel in their booth just a few feet away. At first, she instinctively starts to say something in greeting, but then she second-guesses herself.

Is she even supposed to be talking to them right now? Would they want her to? How much has Zay told them about what’s going on with them, if at all? If she’s not talking to him -- for strategic, stabilizing reasons -- does that apply to them too? Where does the line between their worlds overlap, and how opaque does it have to be?

Just when she’s convinced herself that it would be a mistake to try to engage, Riley spots her when she glances over her shoulder. From that moment on, the choice is no longer Vanessa’s -- Riley smiles and waves her over without a second thought, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Well, here we go then. Vanessa manages a smile that’s only slightly awkward, slowly approaching their table and saying hello. Riley eagerly invites her to sit down with them, patting the booth seat next to her. After a beat, Vanessa obliges.

Riley: How are things? How goes your audition prep?

Okay, so Zay clearly hasn’t talked to her about it. At least he’s spared her that much. Vanessa shrugs.

Vanessa: Oh, you know. It’s… going.

Indeed. The conversation quickly shifts back to Nigel’s dance class woes, as whatever progress she’s making on her elite dance audition is probably leagues better than him struggling to learn the routine for his midterm -- although with his egomaniac professor, they’re probably about the same intensity.

Riley: Is there anyone you could get to tutor you, like a T.A.? Or have you asked Zay for help? Nigel: [ with a snort ] Are you kidding me? No way. I love Zay, but he is the absolute worst teacher ever. There’s a reason I never partnered with him for assignments. We tried to do a duet one time in Angela’s class sophomore year, and he tried to teach me this X-mode level choreography and then was all “come on, Nigel, you’re not even trying” when I didn’t pick it up in five seconds. I love him, and he’s got a gift, but I would never voluntarily put myself under his tutelage again.

Yeah, sounds about right. What else can you expect, he’s a fire sign! So that’s off the table. And it seems like that’s the only option he has, until Vanessa finds herself opening her mouth.

Vanessa: I could help you.

Oop. Where did that come from? Talk about ignoring the boundaries set up between their worlds. She’s just about to take it back, but Nigel’s eyes are wide as he considers the offer.

Nigel: Are you serious? Like, you’d really help me pick it up? Vanessa: Um… Riley: That would be awesome. Surely, you’ve got the skill set. Nigel: And there’s no way you could be as drill sergeant as Zay. That would legit be incredible. But like, no pressure or anything. I know you have a lot going on too. I don’t want to take up your time.

There’s the easy out, if she wants it… but Vanessa finds herself shrugging it off. Oddly enough, she thinks she might want to help him out.

Vanessa: Sure. It’s fine. Honestly, I think the distraction might be nice…

Nigel beams, already thanking her profusely. Maybe his chances of surviving this course aren’t dead yet! Riley mirrors his smile, offering one to Vanessa that she delicately returns.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

ELEANOR GARDNER is in the kitchen, deep in concentration as she finishes up decorating some mini cakes for a church event this weekend. Charlie enters the room and perks up when he finds her there, greeting her and claiming she’s exactly who he wanted to see.

Tellingly, as she’s been basically since he got home, Eleanor is less receptive to his friendliness. Not averse to it, more just… awkward. Unsure. Not clear on how to act around her only son, now that he’s gone off on his own and left the nest once before. Now that she isn’t so sure she knows him like the back of her hand.

Charlie senses all of this, at least her change in demeanor, and that’s precisely why he’s turning up the charm. If a bit more effort is what it takes to get their relationship back on track, less stilted and off, then he’s more than willing to put in the work.

Charlie: I was thinking we could spend some time together this weekend. We haven’t had much of a chance to since I got back, with the holidays and everything. You know, do some more mother-and-son bonding stuff, like we used to do when I was little. [ going for humor ] Though I doubt we could do much of the same stuff. I don’t think the Kiddie Cuts hair salon would still let me in at this point. Eleanor: You don’t seem much interested in cutting your hair these days anyway.

Oh… the comment wasn’t intended to come off as brusque as it did. It definitely leaves a gap in the conversation, neither of them quite sure how to respond or move on from it. Eleanor clears her throat and goes back to decorating a cake; Charlie tries not to take it personally, subconsciously running a hand through said hair. She always has been finicky about it…

Eleanor: Anyway, it’s a sweet idea, Charlie, but I just don’t have the time this weekend. I’ve got so much to do to prepare for the bake-a-thon event on Sunday. [ gesturing to the cakes ] As you can see. Charlie: [ not giving up ] Well, how about next week? Aside from my auditions -- Eleanor: I have quite a few obligations that I can’t simply drop last-minute. Errands, organizing, and the like. Charlie: I could come with you then. Help out. See what goes into all that volunteering you do.

Eleanor hesitates, eyeing him uncertainly. He really seems sincere about this…

Eleanor: You wouldn’t want to spend a whole week dragging your feet around town with your mother. Charlie: And I’m telling you, I do. It’ll be nice to immerse back in the community. And we’ll get to spend some time together, which is all I’m looking for.

He seriously doesn’t have lofty aspirations here -- he just wants to make sure the two of them are okay. Although she still seems skeptical, Eleanor cautiously agrees, claiming he can join her starting tomorrow on some of her usual runs around the community. So long as it’s really how he wants to spend his time…

Based on his smile, he couldn’t be more keen.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - DINING ROOM - DAY

Meanwhile, things are going a bit more smoothly at the MacNamara home. With a couple more weeks under their belt, ISA DE LA CRUZ is settling into the new environment and routine, finding an uncertain but optimistic footing with the family. This growing ease is on display as they join the clan for breakfast, arriving a bit later as the brothers are just about finished with their food.

Although LOUIS MACNAMARA doesn’t seem enthused by their presence, everyone else greets them cheerfully. As they discuss their plans for the week and what’s on their plates, ZACHARY MACNAMARA mentions some important meetings he has with his management team for upcoming projects, as well as a callback audition or two. Based on his busy schedule, Louis gets defensive.

Louis: Are you going to have time for my field trip? Milo: Trip? Are we taking a trip? Zachary, hesitantly: I don’t remember you mentioning -- Louis: My homework field assignment. With local museums? You promised you would come with me to the Academy Museum. Milo: I wanna go! Zachary: I’ll double-check my schedule. I’m sorry, Lou, I didn’t remember you saying -- Louis: I told you like a hundred times! At least, I did before someone showed up --

Oop. Isa isn’t sure how to react, focusing on timidly filling their plate instead. RUBY MACNAMARA skillfully intervenes, defusing the pre-teen meltdown by insisting Zachary will look at his schedule like he said, and if there’s a problem, they’ll figure out a solution as they always do. No need to get all worked up before school.

Louis isn’t satisfied with this, but he stuffs it for now. Speaking of, it’s time for them to get rolling. Ruby tells Isa not to rush, and enjoy their breakfast. As MILO MACNAMARA gets up from the table, he cheerfully informs Isa of part of why he’s excited to get to school today.

Milo: Everyone is so jealous that I got a brand new sibling. Like magic! I’ve been telling all my friends and teachers how cool you are.

Aw. How sweet. Isa smiles. After Milo and Louis depart to grab their backpacks, Ruby pulls on that same thread. In the vein of integrating Isa into their worlds and proudly showing them off, she was hoping Isa would consider joining them at their church this weekend for regular service. A kind suggestion, though Isa seems reserved.

Isa: Oh. That’s… really nice. I’m not exactly… religious, though -- Ruby: Oh, don’t worry, hon. Half the folks at our church aren’t either. It’s more the habit of the thing. Zachary: Hollywood is a mixed bag of devotion. Ruby: But everyone is nice enough regardless. It’s non-denominational, very welcoming. I’m a gal of faith, but we more so go for the sense of community than anything else. It can be hard to find safe, comfortable circles of all ages and stripes in this town, and this has been a God send in that regard. No pun intended.

It’s also no stranger to celebrity congregants, so they’re very particular about security and privacy -- something Zachary greatly appreciates. All in all, it’s like extended family to them, and they’d love for them to get the chance to meet Isa. But of course, only if Isa is comfortable with it.

They think on it for a moment… then they shrug, agreeing. Things are going well enough, and it’s not like Isa takes a strong stance on religion one way or the other. If it’ll make Ruby happy, that seems like a fair trade.

And it does. She claps cheerfully and assures Isa it’ll be a lovely time, and she’ll make sure all the folks are prepped for their grand arrival. Her excitement is palpable as she goes to gather the boys and herd them off to school. Zachary mirrors the smiles, quietly nodding to Isa and thanking them for humoring her.

Zachary: She gets these ideas, and then gets all excited about them. Especially when community building is involved. Isa: Trust me, I get it. I’ve got one of those myself.

And they have to think Riley would be so proud. In fact, given how well they’re maintaining stability and good vibes these past few weeks, Isa probably couldn’t make her any prouder. They hardly have any reason to complain.

Though not everything is quite how they’d like it… when Zachary goes back to eating, they take the chance to look at their phone.

No new messages -- and pulling up their thread with Farkle, it’s clear that is who they’re waiting to hear from. Antsy about the silence, they quickly craft another text.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

It comes through, lighting up Farkle’s phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, opening up the text.

“Hey just wanted to say sorry again for the stuff we argued about the other week… I know you said it’s whatever but it doesn’t really feel like it and I want to do anything I can to make this work. We just got out of being shitty and I really want to keep it that way, esp while I’m in town”

“So ig just let me know what else I can do if you’re still mad, seriously I’ll do anything. I just want us to be good again. For the long haul”

It’s a nice sentiment, and clearly meant, since Isa is not one for being so vulnerable unless absolutely necessary -- let alone in written form.

And FARKLE MINKUS knows that. Based on the bittersweet expression on his face, he knows exactly how sincere Isa is being, and it means something to him. It’s what he wants too. 

But it feels dangerous. Letting them in. Maybe because they’ve been so out of practice, or because of whatever weird volcanic activity seemed to bubble up when they last argued. But more than anything, because Isa’s voice is just one of many rattling around in his brain highlighting the potential flaws in his relationship, and he’s desperate to hold on to it with everything he’s got.

Much like the forgotten birthday, the best thing he can do to hold it all together is ignore everything else. Including, it seems, Isa De La Cruz.

So he doesn’t respond this time, putting his phone away.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - DAY

The sun rises on another day in Manhattan, Charlie and Eleanor starting their Saturday bright and early. It’s the beginning of her busy weekend, before an equally busy week, so there’s no time to waste.

They head towards Charlie’s car, Eleanor commenting that she’s grateful to not be driving for a change.

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

Charlie slides into the driver’s seat, turning the keys in the ignition… and then he remembers a very important detail. The information for his Fall Out Boy mix CD pops up on the display, so he lightly curses to himself and hits the eject button. He acts fast while his mother is climbing into the car, retrieving the CD from the player and stuffing it into the pocket behind the driver’s seat.

By the time Eleanor is settled in, door closed behind her, Charlie has pulled off his heist. He gives her a bright smile as if nothing is out of the ordinary, asking her where they’re off to first.

As he pulls out of the driveway, Eleanor remarks how quiet it is and suggests they put on some music. Charlie directs her to the glove compartment to retrieve his CD sleeve (of not punk rock selection), which she flips through idly. She pauses on the couple of One Direction discs, but doesn’t comment, instead lighting up at the next sleeve.

Eleanor: Oh, Josh Groban! You know, I just love his voice. Charlie: I know you do. We listened to it often enough growing up. Eleanor: I dare say, “You Raise Me Up” might just be my favorite song. The way it speaks to that sense of faith… [ with a shudder ] Chills, every time. [ putting the CD in the player ] But you know, it was actually your father who was the fan before me. Charlie: Really? Eleanor: Oh, yes. He was following him from his first release. I hadn’t even heard of him until he was touring for his sophomore album -- what was it -- Charlie: Closer. Eleanor: Yes, Closer! We went and saw that together. You won’t remember that, of course, you were just a baby. But when I heard that song for the first time…

The rest is history. Charlie smiles. He doesn’t remember his parents going to a concert, no, but he claims he can remember listening to these first couple albums all the time as a toddler.

Charlie: I absorbed it like osmosis. It’s part of my DNA now. [ off her laughter ] Seriously, it’s your fault that I have his debut like, memorized, and all of my friends make fun of me for it.

Eleanor continues to chuckle, shaking her head lightly. It feels good, reminiscing like this -- to be able to find that easy rapport again. It’s always been a good sign to make his mother laugh.

There are other topics at hand to discuss, though, namely what their agenda for the coming week is. They’ve got their errands for today, obviously, mainly small favors for folks in the church community and gathering any last supplies for her baking event. But what else is to come? Eleanor rattles off some of the commitments she has -- church events, food bank volunteering…

Eleanor: And my United For Life branch has our weekly brunch on Wednesday -- oh, it would be so wonderful if you could come to that. I’m sure some of the women would be so heartened to see a young man like yourself advocating for the unborn. Charlie: Um… you said Wednesday? [ swiftly ] Shoot, you know, I think that’s the same time as my Pace audition…

And if it isn’t, he sure is about to pretend it is. The pro-life activism he’ll do without, but the rest of her plans sound reasonable. Either way, should be an interesting and lively week.

INT. USC - COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Farkle and JORDAN NELSON have met up on campus for a study date, at the same cafe they usually hang out at together. Things aren’t as cozy as they once were, though -- rather than cramming together into one oversized armchair and cuddling close, they’re sharing one of the leather couches, with a decent amount of space between them. That’s because Jordan is more focused on the shooting script he’s editing than Farkle, clearly more in study mode than date mode.

Which is not Farkle’s preference at the moment. Not right now, when it already feels like the rose-colored hue is starting to fade from their world. Jordan’s stolen attention feels like barbed wire, and Farkle doesn’t know when it got put up. He isn’t convinced about whether this is a new disinterest he’s suddenly earned from his boyfriend… or if it’s always been this way, if he’s always been reaching for scraps, and he’s just seeing it now. Lately, he doesn’t know what to believe.

But he knows it’s been good. It is good, he thinks. He just has to keep working on it -- relationships are all about effort after all. He clears his throat, delicately nudging his shoe against Jordan’s knee to get his attention. At first, Jordan instinctively swats him away, mildly irritated, but then once he realizes the gesture was meant to be playful, he gives him a second of his time, offering him a smile.

Jordan: Yes? Farkle: Nothing. Just thinking… about how happy I am to be here. With you. Jordan: Aw. So sweet.

Jordan leans over and gives him a brisk kiss, which seems like all Farkle could’ve wanted. But it ebbs away just as fast, Jordan going back to his laptop a moment later… Farkle scrambles to hold on, nudging the conversation along.

Farkle: It’s good to see you. And just be chill, like this. I know things have been busy, with classes and the show and stuff. Jordan: Yeah. Totally. Farkle: … I noticed you haven’t come to the show again yet. I’ve been told it’s getting better every night. Maybe you could come to the one tonight? I could get you a free ticket.

As if Jordan can’t afford to pay. Regardless, he dismisses the offer, claiming he’s too busy. Midterms, and all that. Like what he’s working on right now.

Jordan: Of course, I’d love to see you. I’m sure you’re killing it. Farkle: Right. Jordan: But bigger fish to fry right now. [ patting his cheek ] Just keep making me proud, Minkus.

He’s trying. That’s all he’s trying to do. Farkle searches for another route, bringing up an idea he’s been ruminating on as if he’s just thought of it.

Farkle: You know what I was thinking? Jordan, playfully: That you really need to be quiet so that Jordan can work on his edit? Farkle: No. With your film festival thing coming up -- Jordan: It’s not a film festival “thing.” It’s the Young Directors Summit. Where my short film was selected out of hundreds of entries. Farkle: Right. Yes. That. Sorry, I forgot the name. I know the Summit is a big deal, so I was thinking I could do something special to celebrate it. I thought maybe I could cook dinner, and you could come by the apartment. Sort of lowkey, but… special, you know? Intimate.

A situation where he can’t be distracted by something else. Jordan contemplates this, not opposed to the idea, but he warns Farkle that he doesn’t know what his schedule might be like through the week. So he’ll soft commit, but no promises.

What a sweet response… Farkle tries to hold onto hope, taking that as a yes. It’s better than a no, at least. Now he just needs to figure out what to make… Jordan shifts to discussing the Summit more in detail, reminding Farkle of the date of the event and that he’s going to be his plus one. It’s a pretty classy event, so they want to get there early and show up right. He’ll text him some ensemble ideas so Farkle knows what to wear.

Farkle: I mean, I can imagine. I did grow up with a millionaire CEO for a father. I’m no stranger to fancy events. Jordan: Of course. I just know your taste can be a bit… quirky, and I want to make the right impression. You know how these older Hollywood folks can be. No imagination. [ with a smile ] Just want both of us to come out looking just right.

Sure… hard to argue with that. Farkle drops it, just content with being included in Jordan’s very important plans.

Zay, pre-lap: I know you’re hella busy, but I’m just looking for some opinions.

INT. NYU - THEATER - DAY

Riley is at NYU for weekend rehearsal, already in costume and make-up for the first act of Ghost. She’s been there all day, and it’s just the start of a long, long week to opening night. Zay has come by to visit and ask for her advice on his Turner audition concept, following her through the auditorium towards the stage.

Riley: I get that, and I wish I could be more help. Seriously, if I could drop everything and just spend all week helping you craft the perfect Zay routine, you know I would in a heartbeat. Zay: I know you would. Which is crazy, but appreciated. Riley: But I am just so swamped right now. I barely have time for my classes around all of this, to say nothing of my free time. I don’t know how much help I’m going to be.

She doesn’t want to let him down, or the production by getting too distracted. Zay waves off her reservations, assuring her it’s not that serious. He just wants a once-over, honest opinion on the direction, then she’ll be free to go. As they make it to center stage, Riley relents, holding out her hands.

Zay grins, handing her the scribbled choreo and concept sheet he drafted up. She starts to skim it.

Riley: Have you asked Vanessa? I’m sure her dance perspective would be much more helpful than mine. Zay: Uh… no. No, we’re not really doing that right now.

That’s got her attention. Riley is far more concerned with that answer and the tone of his voice than anything he could’ve written on that sheet of paper.

Riley: What does that mean? Is everything okay? Zay: Chill. It’s not -- everything is fine. Riley: I’m chill. I’m calm. But you’re not doing what, exactly?

Well, anything, at this point. Zay sighs and briefly explains the situation, the agreement he and Vanessa reached to keep things from imploding. With the stakes so high for auditions, they’re taking a clean, silent break from one another so they can focus their energies on their routines and not get in each other’s heads. So pointedly, asking for advice would be out of the question.

Despite the genius move Zay seems to think they’ve made here, Riley doesn’t look impressed.

Riley: You’d rather not just… talk about it? Zay: [ with a snort ] Fuck no. That never ends well.

Talking hasn’t exactly been their strong suit. With things so heated right now just by nature of competition, they’re doing everything in their power to avoid anything that could spark another flash argument. That feels like the greatest obvious risk.

Zay: But it’s all good. This is good. We’ve got it so that we give each other space now, get through the bullshit without sacrificing either of our chances. And no matter what happens, we won’t have the opportunity to misplace blame on each other, since we definitely weren’t a possible factor in distracting the other before the audition. So we get through this, let what happens happen, and then bam. Back to normal, crisis averted.

There’s about seventeen things in that plan Riley takes issue with, but knowing Zay, she doesn’t think it’s worth it to argue. Once he has an idea in his head, it’s hard to convince him otherwise… not to mention she straight up doesn’t have time. Maintaining her own relationships is task enough right now.

So she moves on, directing her focus instead to the choreography and continuing to read.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Meanwhile, a brief montage showcases how Eleanor and Charlie spend most of their day, stopping by church members’ homes to bring home-cooked meals for those that are sick, provide supplies and groceries for the elderly, pick up mail for community drop off.

Everyone seems grateful for the help and more than tickled to see Charlie helping out. Many of them remark how nice it is to see more of him, since he was away for so long. While the sentiment is positive, and Charlie always insists he’s glad to be back, Eleanor usually clams up at the mention of his absence.

It reopens a bit of the cold space between them, the mysterious chill that Charlie is working to thaw. He just needs to figure out why.

INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

After that full day of work, Charlie is more than ready for dinner with his family that evening. AMBROSE GARDNER took the burden of cooking tonight, and DAISY GARDNER and ROSIE GARDNER are both dutifully in attendance. Charlie takes a peek around the table as Eleanor wraps up saying grace, enjoying the reality of getting to be sharing a meal with his parents and younger sisters again. It feels familiar; it feels normal.

No matter how things change or how long he goes away, he figures he can always come back to some form of this.

As they begin to idly chat, Eleanor reminds the family that tomorrow is a very special day at church with her bake-a-thon. She’s spent a lot of time organizing it, and she wants it to go off without a hitch. So they’ll likely need to head out a bit early tomorrow for service.

One thing that has changed, without a doubt, is Rosie’s willingness to throw curveballs. After a beat, she claims she wasn’t planning on going to service tomorrow.

This goes about as well as you’d expect. An uncertain quiet settles over the table, all eyes looking in her direction. Eleanor blinks, taking a moment to process that.

Ambrose: You didn’t, uh, mention this to us earlier, Rose. Rosie: Sorry. I guess I forgot. Eleanor: What gave you the idea that it was okay to change your plans? Rosie: Um… not being eleven years old anymore? I don’t get what the big deal is. I go to service literally every week. Eleanor: The big deal is that I have a very important event that I’ve been planning for weeks, and I would like my family to be there in support. I’ve been very clear about the timeline for this. What else could you possibly have planned? Rosie: Whatever, nothing. Something else just came up. Ambrose: I think we would’ve appreciated a bit more advanced notice -- Eleanor: “Something.” What else is “something?” Rosie: Okay, if you have to know! One of my friends from school is having a birthday party, and I really want to be there for it. Eleanor: [ with a scoff ] A birthday party -- Rosie: It’s their sweet sixteen! It’s a big deal! Eleanor: Oh, so that is a big deal to you? But not Sunday service with your family. Rosie: This is so ridiculous! Daisy gets to skip tomorrow!

Daisy shoots her a glare, not appreciating being dragged into it.

Daisy: I have the science fair! Rosie: I just think it’s dumb to act like you’re mad because of this one event, when we all know that no matter what week it was, you’d be mad at me for not wanting to go. Like, as if I could ever have another life outside of church. Eleanor: That is absolutely not true. I don’t appreciate your attitude. If that’s how you really feel, then maybe you shouldn’t -- Charlie: [ cutting in ] I’ll go. Tomorrow. I can tap in for Rosie.

All of them stare at him, effectively halting the back and forth.

Ambrose: That’s a nice offer, bud. Eleanor: That isn’t exactly the point. But I’m sure you have other things -- Rosie: [ under her breath ] So it’s fine when he does… Charlie: Really, I’m happy to go. It’ll be nice, actually, to go more consistently. I haven’t been great about reestablishing the habit since I got back, with all the moving and everything.

This way, Rosie can go to her party, but Eleanor will have one kid in attendance to rep the clan. Everyone wins. And next time, they all can be there together for a change. Wouldn’t that be nice?

For now, it’ll have to do… and at least it stops the arguing. No one quite won, but greater eruption is averted for now. Daisy shrugs, unbothered. As long as she gets to go to the science fair, not her problem. Eleanor frowns lightly to herself, stabbing at her dinner.

Eleanor: Why they would schedule that on a Sunday is beyond me…

Nice to have the peacemaker back in full force. Ambrose gives Charlie a grateful smile and subtle nod, which he lightly returns.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lucas swings by the old apartment for the first time in a while, bringing leftovers from the diner after a shift. He starts to head for the kitchen but is startled by KENNETH FRIAR reclined on the couch, plaintively watching TV.

It’s stunning not just because he’s not used to Kenneth being around so consistently, but more so because he looks so… small. So unlike himself. His formerly athletic and bulky frame has thinned from chemotherapy and fatigue. His usually tan skin from all those hours outside coaching has grown sallow. Even though he’s at rest at the moment, his breathing is fragile in subtle ways, like the work of raising his chest takes much more effort than before. If the room were quiet, you may be able to hear the air rattle through his lungs.

Considering he hasn’t visited in a bit, it’s obvious Kenneth is surprised to see Lucas, too. Surprised, and somewhat embarrassed by the state he’s discovered him in. Immediately, he pushes himself upright and tries to regain more presence, clearing his throat and asking why he’s stopped by.

Lucas: … finished my shift and we had leftovers. Thought you all could use them. [ a beat ] Mama especially likes the pie, so. Kenneth: Ah. Yeah. [ with a nod ] That’s nice. She’ll like that.

Yeah… Lucas awkwardly continues towards the kitchen, letting that be that. Only he’s startled again when Kenneth coughs, loudly, a violent reflex that sounds about as brutal as it probably feels at this point. Lucas winces, unprepared for the reality check.

It only grows worse as Kenneth settles into a coughing fit. He tries to fight it, not wanting to hack up a lung in front of him, but that only makes the spasm worse. He starts to wheeze, and in his effort to straighten up and ease airflow he knocks the remote off the arm rest and onto the ground, cursing angrily at his own clumsiness. He starts to get up and reach for it --

And that’s when he starts to tumble. His legs aren’t what they used to be, and before he knows it he’s losing his balance, beginning to crumple towards the carpet.

Lucas moves without thinking, placing the Chubbies bag on the floor and rushing over to help. He kneels down and stabilizes Kenneth so he doesn’t completely collapse, trying to help him back upright towards to the couch. For a moment, he allows it, too off-balance to think of anything but regaining alignment.

Then once he realizes what’s happened, and the humiliation sets in, so do his instincts. Like he has to prove he doesn’t need him, that any pity or superiority he might feel is misguided. In a flash, Kenneth rejects Lucas’s aid, shoving him away.

It all happens in seconds. A perfect presentation of old habits burned in deep, leaving Kenneth flushed in the face and Lucas sprawled on the floor.

For a second, neither of them move, unable to look at each other. Both uncertain how to react; both humiliated in different ways.

GRACE FRIAR comes in moments later, taking in the scene and dreading the worst. She cautiously asks if everything is okay -- already knowing the answer -- breaking the spell of paralysis. Lucas swallows his emotion and gets back to his feet without a word, allowing Kenneth to speak for the both of them as he claims they’re fine. Just dropped the remote.

In that same quiet tread, Grace approaches and steps in the middle, retrieving the remote from the ground and handing it to Kenneth. He takes it sheepishly, letting a nod substitute for actual thanks. He tries to push past the episode, aiming for nonchalant.

Kenneth: Lucas brought food. Should do you the favor of having to keep me alive for a couple more days.

That comes off more macabre than intended. Grace eyes the food bag on the floor, then Lucas, silently trying to figure him out.

Then she gracefully takes the food and leads the way to the kitchen, correctly assuming Lucas will follow. They leave Kenneth alone, solemn and pale in the glow of the television screen.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Grace delicately transfers all the leftovers Lucas brought into airtight containers, the only noise coming from the low din of news in the living room. Lucas leans against the counter, arms crossed and staring at the floor, expression knit into a frown. The figure left out of the conversation may no longer be so large, but he still casts a long shadow…

Lucas: Why didn’t you tell me it was getting this bad?

She knew he would say something eventually. She pauses, closing her eyes for a moment, then she sighs.

Grace: You want the truth? [ turning to face him ] It never crossed my mind.

Living with it so constantly, watching him deteriorate, it’s like she’s become numb to it. The evidence of it is more shocking to Lucas, who has been able to walk away for chunks of time. It’s been subtle to her, almost imperceptible.

Not to mention, what good would it have done to tell him? Other than stating the obvious? What would either of them gain if she had? Lucas shrugs, searching for the answer.

Lucas: I could help more. I can come by more often. Do more… chores, or something. I don’t know. If he needs help, then -- Grace: Based on how well that went?

She didn’t see it happen, but she can fill in the blanks. Kenneth was prideful to begin with, and no longer having the same ability and discipline is hard enough on him. Having to ask for help from Lucas would make it ten times worse, and probably bring out the worst in both of them. They already got a glimpse of it, with how he pushed him aside -- it’s not the same as being knocked around on purpose, no, but the actions hurt just as much. The scars sting the same.

Still, Lucas feels guilty. Grace is here dealing with all of it, having to carry the weight for all of them, and he’s just off doing whatever.

Grace: He’s my husband. [ with weak humor ] That’s part of the job description, isn’t it? In sickness and in health.

The way they’ve got it right now is what’s best for everyone. Less friction this way; less pain. Lucas has so many things to be focused on in his own life -- good things, the stuff she wants him to be investing his time and energy into.

Grace: You have your own life to live. I don’t want to mess with that. You don’t need to become a caretaker… least of all for someone who didn’t necessarily return the favor.

It’s one of the first times Grace has openly acknowledged the less-than-stellar hell the two of them have endured, rather than leaving it unspoken. The subtle admission is enough to stall Lucas’s complaints for now, though no one seems particularly satisfied with the situation.

However, with the Friar family, that’s not exactly out of the ordinary.

EXT. MACNAMARA CHURCH - DAY

Isa arrives at the usual church with the MacNamara clan, shy but doing their best not to retreat into themselves. Milo hardly lets them anyway, sticking by their side and eagerly pointing out all of the people they pass and things he likes about their church like their personal tour guide.

As they approach the doors, where cheerful ushers are greeting them, they take a deep breath. No turning back now.

INT. MACNAMARA CHURCH - DAY

The congregation is milling about and chatting while they wait for service to begin, and everyone is more than friendly when the MacNamaras arrive. They’re clearly well-liked members of the community, due in no small part to Ruby’s bubbly charm, and they mesh into the social scene easily.

Except Isa. They’re not sure how to comport themselves, although Ruby does their best to integrate them. They pull out all the stops while introducing them around, praising Isa’s creativity and gushing about how wonderful it’s been to have them join the family.

Even though everyone is kind enough, it’s still a bit awkward. Suppose there was no way it couldn’t be, a new family member appearing out of the blue, but Isa doesn’t help matters much with their natural lack of social charisma. They try their damnedest, doing everything they can to channel Riley and Dylan or mimic Ruby’s natural ease, but it just doesn’t land right. They keep saying the wrong thing, or causing awkward bumps in the conversation. When one churchgoer calls them MacNamara by default, they correct with “De La Cruz,” but then don’t even get why they felt the need to fill in.

Churchgoer: Oh, of course. My bad, dear. [ with sympathy ] We know all about your late mother.

Yeah, figures. Who doesn’t? They know Ruby told the congregation about Isa’s connection, so it’s no surprise people here would know. Somehow, the known feeling doesn’t make Isa feel better though -- it makes them feel even more like a sore thumb, an intruder with the MacNamara clan rather than a member.

Even so, Ruby tells them they’re doing fine. As she goes to find the boys and direct them to their pew, she promises Isa that this has gone swimmingly so far. Everyone is going to love them, no doubt about it.

While they wait for the others to return and head towards the pew, they hang back, checking their phone. They’ve got messages from Riley and Dylan, both encouraging them to just be themselves and stay out of their own head. They’ve got this! What’s not to love?

It’s not love Isa is concerned about. It’s feeling a part of things -- feeling like they belong.

Other churchgoers pass by Isa without comment now, no Ruby magnetism to draw their attention. No identification key to prove they should be there. As the world slows down around them, Isa does their best to keep their polite smile on.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Waiting On A Miracle” as performed by Encanto Original Movie Cast || Performed by Isa De La Cruz

They start the song trying to convince themselves it’s fine, that they’re doing great. Echoing the kind sentiments of their half-mother and friends in their head. They’re part of the family. They’re part of the community. It’s fine, totally fine.

But it’s not. This thing they’ve found with Zachary, with the whole family, is so fragile. So important, and they’re so terrified of fucking it up. They want it to be easy -- they want to effortlessly fit into their world.

Always walking alone Always wanting for more Like I'm still at that door longing to shine

These nerves are what motivate the performance as it unfolds, the world growing dark around Isa as a theoretical spotlight shines on them. They begin to move through the church and the pews, fittingly singing about miracles and grace from the universe in the house of whispered prayers. All they need is a chance -- they’re giving this everything they’ve got. They will not mess it up.

Their singing grows more pronounced as they make it to the front of the pews, now in front of the entire congregation. Their focus is on the MacNamaras, though, Ruby and the boys frozen in their seats. Isa implores them to not give up on them, to give them a fair chance, even though they can’t hear the prayer.

I would heal what's broken Show this family something new Who I am inside, so what can I do? I'm sick of waiting on a miracle, so here I go

They then bound through the center aisle through the rest of the number. Declaring their readiness, determined not to mess this one up. All they need is a blessing, a miracle that’ll let this opportunity be different from the rest. They land back at the far end of the church, throwing their head back and belting out the last line as the stained glass window of Jesus above them glows down on them.

Then the music and lights fade away, returning the scenery to normal as Isa murmurs the last sentiment to themselves.

Isa: Am I too late for a miracle?

Moments later, Zachary comes to join them, nodding towards the pews where Ruby and the boys are waiting.

Zachary: Ready?

They hope so, Zachary. They want to believe it. Isa manages a smile, then follows him down the aisle. 

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

This time, it’s Farkle who is left hanging out in the apartment alone. He’s trying to do a reading for class, but is having trouble focusing. He keeps going back to his phone, waiting for new messages that aren’t coming -- or more accurately, rereading the last one he received and hoping it’ll be different.

“Got held up in the edit studio, sorry Minkus. Next time”

Which would be fine, a totally normal and understandable change of plans, if every action Jordan took these days didn’t feel like a nod to how rapidly Farkle is losing his shine.

He perks up when he hears the key in the apartment door, grateful to not be alone with his thoughts anymore. But it’s much more than that -- MAYA HART returns, yes, but she’s also got friends. In this case, JADE BEAMON and YINDRA AMINO, all three of them engaged in opinionated chatter about something or other. They’re just coming back from a Sunday brunch.

Without him. Not that Farkle would’ve expected to be invited, but somehow, seeing all of his peers together right in front of him makes his absence feel even more pointed.

They all seem surprised to find him there on the couch, greeting him cheerfully. Maya is most surprised of them all.

Maya: I didn’t realize you were home. Farkle: Yeah. You know, just, last-minute change of plans. [ a beat ] I did have something else going on, but -- Yindra: Sorry, Mink. If we’d known you were free, you could’ve tagged along.

They just assumed, given his very busy schedule, that he wouldn’t be. It honestly didn’t even occur to Maya to ask him. Farkle swallows his disappointment, waving off their concern with a tight smile. No worries.

Everything is fine.

INT. MACNAMARA CHURCH - DAY

As service is wrapping up for the afternoon, the MacNamara clan gathers by the front to say goodbye. Ruby is clearly well-established in the community, receiving warm hugs and exchanging kind farewells with basically everyone who passes them on their exit. Zachary always receives a handshake or nod, and Milo may as well be the belle of the ball with how everyone loves him.

Some people remember to acknowledge Isa; fewer actually remember their name. Most don’t think anything of it, so enmeshed in their usual routines that it's like they mentally skip over them. It’s probably not personal. Isa tries to convince themselves that it's not on them. Change takes time; they’re doing the best they can.

Ruby turns to give all of them a smile, asking if they’re ready to head out. She makes sure to give Isa an affectionate squeeze on the arm, a small but tender gesture signaling how glad she is that they joined them this morning. Isa smiles.

Louis leads the way out of the church, more than ready to be done with the socializing for the day.

EXT. MACNAMARA CHURCH - DAY

Boy, is he in for a nasty surprise. The instant that Zachary steps out behind him into the sunshine, Isa not far behind, it’s like the wolves descend. Somehow, the paparazzi have gotten wind of their presence and their brand new relationship, because they’re staked outside the church like vultures.

And when they see their prey, it only takes a second for them to swoop in for the kill.

Paparazzi: There they are! Paparazzi 2: Quick, quick, get the shot!

Cameras start clicking and tabloid reporters rush forward to meet them on the sidewalk, completely catching them all off-guard. One of them basically shoves Louis to the side to get a microphone in Zachary’s face, nearly sending him to the ground. Ruby scrambles forward to help him, sending a scowling Mama Bear glare in their direction.

It’s all happening so fast, so suddenly, that none of them have the proper preparation to react.

Reporter: Z.D. Roman, are the rumors true? You’re the father of the late Valerie De La Cruz’s illegitimate love child? Zachary: I -- uh -- Reporter 2: Isadora! How does it feel to finally know your father? Does it feel like too little, too late? Reporter 3: Do you feel like Valerie hid something from you? Is it a betrayal that it took so long? Reporter 2: Z.D., how does it feel to be a baby daddy? Reporter: Is it true that you hid the truth about the paternity because you didn’t want it to disrupt your career? Is that really more important than fatherhood? Zachary: No. No -- I didn’t know -- Reporter: Isadora, do you feel -- Isa, numbly: It’s Isa.

That’s all their brain can manage at the moment. It’s quickly shutting down, overwhelmed by all the chaos and unexpected third degree. Louis and Milo seem equally overwhelmed, not used to such public accosting. Despite their well-regarded father, Ruby and Zachary have always done a good job of keeping things lowkey and maintaining their privacy. Suffice to say, they’ve never had microphones shoved in their face like this before.

Reporter: [ to Milo ] How does it feel knowing your dad had another child? Do you feel replaced? Milo, confused: I love having Isa here? Ruby: Shh, baby, you don’t have to say anything to these people. [ to the reporter ] Shame on you. God bless your damn heart.

Zachary finally gets his wits back, helping Ruby to usher their family towards the car. Other churchgoers are staring, disturbed and unsettled by the sudden immense attention being drawn to their tight-knit community. More than a little judgment is being shot Isa’s way as they’re shepherded into the back of the MacNamara car.

INT. MACNAMARA CAR - MOVING - DAY

More than a little shaken, the family initially start their drive home in silence. Then, as if a dam has burst, emotions come flooding out of both Louis and Milo. Louis starts cussing out (without any actual curse words) the paparazzi for shoving him around, claiming that they could’ve killed him; Milo starts blubbering tears, overwhelmed and unsure how to deal with this new experience. 

Next to the two boys in the back, Isa remains silent. They take in the intense emotions from their half-brothers, and Ruby as she turns around in her seat to try and calm them. Isa shrinks into their seat.

They can still hear the shouts of the paparazzi, see the flashes of the camera, feel the judgmental eyes on them. Memories of similar experiences past press down on them, leaving no space to breathe. It’s all happening all at once, stuck on replay, the sounds of Milo’s cries and Louis’s shouts merging in with the sounds of their memories. 

Eventually, one sound cuts through the rest. It starts out quiet, but slowly comes into focus.

Zachary: Isa. Isa, we’re home.

INT. MACNAMARA CAR - DAY

Isa blinks, coming back to the present. The car is parked, Ruby already unlocking the front door with Milo and Louis close behind her. Only Zachary and Isa remain in the car. He watches them, concerned.

Zachary: Are you okay?

Isa can’t open their mouth. It’s glued shut. They shake their head, tears pricking their eyes. Unsure what to do, Zachary tells Isa that they can retreat to their room and spend as much time as they need there; he’ll make sure that they’re left undisturbed.

Isa manages a small nod. They carefully get out of the car, movements small and gentle, as if making too big of a move will injure them. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - DAY

Inside the house, Isa heads towards the stairs. Ruby opens her mouth to say something as they pass, but from behind them, Zachary shakes his head to signal that Isa should be left alone. Ruby accepts this and shifts her attention back to the two boys, who she’s consoling with the promise of ice cream in the garden. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - DAY

After bounding up the stairs, Isa rushes into their room and shuts the door. It’s been a while since they’ve had a shut down like this -- but it’s also been a while since they were triggered that way. 

And now, everyone else had to deal with it too. They slump down on the floor, tears slipping down their cheeks.

Sydney, pre-lap: I don’t understand how this happened. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

That evening, the family gathers together to discuss what the hell happened. SYDNEY NGUYEN has joined them, keeping tabs on how the story is breaking on their phone and clearly displeased with this turn of events. Zachary is trending, but for all the wrong reasons.

She can join the club. Zachary is still recovering from the surprise of the day, not quite himself and even more shy than usual; Ruby is downright livid, matching Sydney’s pacing as they try to figure out what the hell happened. Isa has come back around enough to be present, but much like their father, they’re not contributing much to the conversation.

Sydney: We go a whole two weeks with no leaks, not one word, and all of a sudden it explodes like this? Zachary, resigned: Welcome to Hollywood. Sydney: This was never OK’d. We didn’t even discuss how we wanted to break it, if at all. I would’ve gone through People if we’d had the choice -- now we’re stuck with the muckrakers. [ with dread ] God, you know Leticia is going to be fucking furious about this. Zachary: [ to Isa, helpfully ] My publicist. Ruby: I swear -- God forgive me for this -- but I swear if someone in that church did this, it will be the last thing they ever do. I hope it wasn’t, but --

But you just don’t know. In Hollywood, it feels impossible to know who’s truly a friend.

Isa, on the other hand, thinks they’ve got the blame all figured out.

Isa: This is my fault. Zachary: No. Ruby: Isa, honey, don’t -- Isa: It is. It’s nice of you to act like it isn’t, but it is. Before I got here, you all never had a problem like this. If Louis didn’t already hate me, he sure as hell does now. Ruby: He doesn’t hate you. Isa: I ruined everything. I’m -- I’m sorry.

Despite their certainty, Zachary and Ruby refuse to accept their apology. This is part of fame, for better or worse, and Isa isn’t the one to blame for it getting out. There was always this potential, they all knew it. Now, they just have to figure out how to handle it.

Sydney looks as though she’s more inclined to agree with Isa -- her job was much more calm before they showed up. But there’s nothing to be done about it now. Ruby assures them all that they’ll find a way to work through this as a family.

Isa does their best to believe her, but it feels like a hard sell.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Of course, the news is out there though, and everyone else will be responding whether they like it or not. Maya is currently seeing the evidence of that on their social media, Isa suddenly popping up everywhere with the tabloid photographs from church.

It’s more than apparent how uncomfortable Isa is. Maya can recognize it, the discomfort and tension in the features of the best friend she used to know so well.

So she does what she can from her corner of the interwebs. She deflects attention from the media fire, taking the time to call out some users for not minding their own business and distracting others by posting new content to her socials. Might seem selfish on the surface, but if she can divert any of the clicks from one article to something else, that’s one less pair of prying eyes.

It’s all she can do. As the camera pans…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Across the empty living area, to the opposite side of the apartment, through the walls into another bedroom…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is also scrolling through the storm, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. He knows how sensitive Isa is about this topic, how private they’ve always wanted their family stuff to be. Something they never truly got, given their mother, but a wish all the same.

Farkle doesn’t have the same media influence as Maya, so him keyboard warrior-ing on Isa’s behalf wouldn’t do much. He’s less concerned about the external people reacting anyway, thinking more about Isa on their own. He can see the signs in their posture too, the shutting down written all over their expression in some of the photos (that, of course, lazy tabloid writers are asserting is bad attitude).

He wants to be there for them. To be able to stand by their side, be a body to lean on -- or fall asleep on, if past experiences are any prologue. It actually surprises him how strong the desire to be close to them is. Like he so desperately want to help, however he can, that he’ll give anything he has to offer even if that’s just his bony shoulders.

But he doesn’t know how. Things have been so weird between them, especially with how he keeps leaving them on read right now. How shitty would it be for him to respond now, only after their life has been flipped upside down again? Not to mention, Farkle has the nagging feeling that Jordan would not take kindly to him letting Isa snuggle up close if that’s what they needed.

Still, he has to do something. So he finally opens their message thread again.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST BEDROOM - NIGHT

If this catastrophe is good for anything, maybe it’ll be this. Isa sits up on their elbow when they see their phone glow with a new message.

“Sorry I’ve been so shitty about responding. I agree with everything you said, even though we’re so bad at actually making it happen. Guess that’s the curse of being us”

“I saw the stuff in the tabloids -- it’s fucked up. My track record this week doesn’t speak for itself, but if you need anything, let me know. I’m here for you”

The renewed contact is salve enough, cursed as they may be. Isa smiles at the messages, letting them give them the slightest bit of comfort.

Before they can respond, there’s a light knock on their door. So light they almost wonder if they imagined it, but they cautiously sit up and invite curiosity in anyway.

Isa: [ in a whisper ] Come in?

There’s a long beat of quiet… and then moments later, their door cracks open. Milo pokes his head inside.

Isa: What are you doing up? You’re supposed to be asleep. Milo: I couldn’t sleep. 

He sniffs, holding a teddy bear tightly. Isa shifts on their bed and invites Milo into the room. He shuffles over to the bed and perches on the end of it. For a moment, neither say anything. Feeling awkward, Isa does their best to make conversation.

Isa: What’s your bear called? Milo: Mr. Cuddles. Momma got him for me to hug whenever I feel upset or scared. Isa: Do you still feel upset about the paparazzi at church?

Milo gives a little nod, and guilt washes over Isa. As if sensing this, Milo turns and crawls closer to Isa.

Milo: You don’t have a Mr. Cuddles, so you can hug me if you want. I’m very cuddly.

Caught off guard, Isa laughs. They accept the offer of a hug and squeeze Milo tight for a moment. When they separate, Milo beams up at them.

Milo: If you feel scared again, you can hug me.  Isa: Thank you, Milo. You are very cuddly. 

Milo’s chest inflates, proud of himself. Isa pauses, unsure how to broach the topic on their mind. 

Isa: Sometimes I don’t really like hugging, especially if I feel overwhelmed. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate the offer. Milo: Because of your autism, right?

Isa is a little surprised he knows. Clearly Zachary and Ruby prepared their children well. 

Milo: Dad said that’s why you needed to be alone this afternoon, too. I wanted to bring you some ice cream.

Milo pouts, making Isa chuckle again. They ruffle Milo’s hair and tell him that they’re grateful to have such a thoughtful little brother. 

Milo, curious: Why did your autism make you want to be alone?  Isa: [ contemplating a moment ] When I feel big emotions, I either shut down or melt down. Shut down means that my emotions are big and scary inside my head, but on the outside, I might seem quiet. Or numb. Melt down is the opposite, when I express the emotions outward. Milo: Like crying? Isa: It’s… a bit more than just crying. One time I threw stuff around in my room and broke everything. 

Milo gasps, imagining the amount of trouble he’d get into if he did that. 

Isa: I haven’t done anything like that for a while, though. I’ve learned better ways to deal with big emotions. Today, though… [ a beat ] it was very unexpected. It brought back other memories like that from the past, so I shut down. When I get like that, I find it difficult to talk, and need time alone to deal with all my emotions. 

Milo takes all of this in and nods solemnly. 

Milo: Thank you for telling me.  Isa, amused: Thank you for listening. If you have any other questions about autism, you can always ask me.  Milo: I have one more! Isa: Shoot. Milo: Can I hug you again?

Smiling, Isa nods and opens their arms. Milo grins and hugs them again before jumping down from the bed and bidding them goodnight. Isa’s smile remains even once alone.

INT. JACK AND ERIC’S PLACE - KITCHEN - DAY

By Monday morning, the tabloid fodder has reached the wider news ecosystem, so Isa’s father reveal is all over the internet. It even has a spot or two in some of the papers, in the entertainment section, which ERIC MATTHEWS is disdainfully flipping through as he finishes his morning coffee. He wants to do something, to make it stop, but he feels powerless. Especially with Isa so far away.

Eric: I should’ve known this would happen. Jack: Careful, you’re starting to sound like Isa and Lucas. You’re meant to be the optimist in this little arrangement. Eric: I should’ve known. I should’ve gone with them -- Jack: And done what? Tackled a reporter like their personal bodyguard? That would’ve made a more entertaining news story, I admit. “High school principal body-checks paparazzi leaving Sunday morning service. Amen.”

Eric rolls his eyes, but even he can admit it sounds ridiculous. His parental instinct is strong, but the reality is he couldn’t have changed this outcome. If it was going to happen, it would’ve with or without him there to play protector.

That doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it. Jack settles down in the chair next to him, leaning forward to take his hands and pull them away from the newspaper.

Jack: You want to help them. I get it. That’s who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you. Eric: Didn’t used to always feel that way… Jack: [ ignoring that ] But Isa’s not a kid anymore. And they’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than either of us have. In all honesty, they’ve always had pretty good instincts about how to handle it, when to bite back and when to reel it in. I was impressed by them because of that. I’m sure the same instincts will apply here.

Of course, they’ll always be there for them. But this development, unwelcome as it may be, might be the perfect chance for Isa to practice flying out of the nest. They have support here and there, but it might be time for them to pick these battles on their own.

Eric doesn’t look pleased about that, but they know Jack is probably right. He begrudgingly accepts a kiss.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Otherwise, life goes on. Vanessa arrives with Nigel at one of the practice studios he booked on campus, about to embark on their tutoring journey. Vanessa gets a good look around while Nigel wanders further in, getting some of the equipment set up.

Nigel: Probably not as sleek and elite as you’re used to. Vanessa: Please, NYU isn’t short on resources. Turner’s are more polished, yeah, but this isn’t bad. And don’t forget I’m coming from Quincy High. We didn’t even have dance studios. I’m not going to shit on a decent set-up.

Fair enough. Once there’s no more small talk to bother with, the awkwardness sets in, neither of them quite sure how to act without Zay there as the buffer. Nigel turns away to retrieve his assignment packet from his backpack, which contains the choreography sheets.

Nigel: Before we get started, I just want to make clear that I promise, I’m not a bad dancer. I’m no Zay Babineaux, but I’m not without rhythm. Despite what you’re about to see from me, I’m normally not this whack. Vanessa: No worries, I believe you. [ holding out her hand ] Can I see?

Nigel hands over the sheets, allowing Vanessa to flip through them. Her eyebrows shoot up.

Vanessa: Wow. You said this was intro to movement? Nigel: Unfortunately, yes. I don’t know that my prof got the memo. Vanessa: No joke. Like, this is doable, but I wouldn’t call it novice material. Especially for a midterm. Nigel: [ genuinely grateful ] Thank you for the vindication.

She offers him a light smile. She finishes flipping through it, then assures him they’ll be able to work through it within the week. They can get him in shape to pass.

Nigel: From your lips to God’s ears. Just -- again, I know you have stuff going on too. Zay talks about it enough. So if you need to bail or whatever, don’t risk it on my account. I get it. Vanessa: All good. It’s… nice, to be somewhere else for a bit. Nice change of pace.

Getting out of her audition head will probably do her more good than harm at this point.

INT. TALENT AGENCY - WAITING AREA - DAY

Yindra is looking particularly groovy this morning, impatiently waiting in the modern offices of a talent agency in West Hollywood. She taps her feet against the floor, trying to keep her nerves from showing.

After another moment where she considers running for the hills, REESE DALTON-KING emerges from the hall, gifting her a warm smile as he spots her waiting there. She immediately jumps to her feet, returning his smile and accepting the handshake he offers.

Reese: Great to see you again. I’m so glad you could make it in. Yindra: You too. Thanks for seeing me. And your patience. Reese: Of course. Come on, let’s head back to my office.

Reese thanks the receptionist as they go, leading the way back down the hall past other agents’ doors.

INT. REESE’S OFFICE - DAY

Reese steps back to let Yindra in first, stepping into his personal office. It’s smartly decorated, inhabited without being gauche. While there’s accolades on the wall to show off -- platinum record certifications, a Grammy sitting up top on a shelf -- there’s touches of personality too, like the vintage concert posters he has from his youth or the Aaron Burr Funko Pop he has on his filing cabinet from Hamilton.

He gestures for Yindra to take the seat across the desk while he settles onto the adjacent couch, setting them up for an easygoing conversation. He asks if she wants water, which she accepts, before they dive into discussion. He reiterates that he’s happy they’re finally getting the chance to follow up after the Haunt, despite the time it took on both ends.

Reese: Again, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandparents. Losing both grandfathers back to back… that couldn’t have been easy. Yindra: Huh? Oh, yeah… [ faux touched ] Thanks.

But now they’re both here, which means they can finally talk business. Reese did mean it when he said he saw potential in her at the Haunt, and that’s only grown with time. He’s listened back to her performance a few times, and he first wants to commend her phenomenal talent. She has pipes, there’s no doubt about that. Pipes, and a lot of potential.

Reese: I believe you’ve got the stuff. There’s a path for you here to find real success, we just have to work together to find it -- if you decide to trust me with that honor.

With that in mind, he does have an opening pitch that he thinks could be a strong first move.

Reese: The label I do a lot of business with, Jupiter Music, is working on putting together a new powerhouse project. Yindra: Oh? Reese: With Fifth Harmony’s decline in the last couple years, and rumors that Little Mix will be announcing a hiatus soon -- and we all know how “hiatuses” end -- there’s about to be a big gap in the market. It’s been a while since we’ve had a competent, showstopping new girl group on the scene, and we think the time could be right to introduce a brand new sisterhood into the world. One that, I’m thinking, includes you. Yindra: A girl group?

That’s not what she was anticipating. For all her excitement about her potential career, and daydreams she had as a kid -- even with her love of Destiny’s Child -- somehow the concept of being part of a group never featured in her imagination. It’s a break from expectation, so it takes her a long moment to process it.

Reese: You have the vocal chops without a doubt. You have the right look. Based on what I’ve seen, you have charisma, which always comes in handy. It’s also a great way to get your name and face in front of audiences, get them familiar with your talent, before you make your eventual breakout. You know, there’s no guarantee we’d know who Beyoncé or Camila are without their roots in a group.

Maybe, but for every Beyoncé, there’s a Kelly. For every girl group breakout star, there’s three or four women who fade into obscurity for most of the general population. Yindra doesn’t know how she feels about that prospect.

Reese: Not to mention, it can be really nice to have a group of gals to navigate the industry with when you’re starting out. Keeps you from being stranded on your own, for there to be folks to commiserate with. Whatever happens, you’re weathering it together. And who knows, you just might make some life-long friends out of the deal.

The point is, he fully believes if she threw her hat in the ring, she’d have a great chance of being selected for the group. He’s willing to put some stake in it. Yindra isn’t totally opposed, but she’s not outright sold either, so she wonders if she could have a day or two to think about it.

Reese agrees, but he warns that in this case, they can’t afford to wait weeks again for forward momentum. Yindra takes that caution seriously, nodding. She knows she’s pushed her luck enough.

With the major pitch out of the way, Reese changes tracks, asking her to tell him more about her. Who is Yindra Amino -- and who does she want Yindra Amino to be?

Maya, pre-lap: I can see it now. The future is bright, bright, bright -- and this is going to be big.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - JUSTIN’S OFFICE - DAY

Maya is having her weekly meeting with her own management, energetically pacing the floor opposite the desk where JUSTIN MILLER and MELISSA SUZUKI are seated. She’s got a binder in her hands, where she’s fleshed out ideas and concepts for her debut EP. She’s eager to start working on it, even though it hasn’t formally been greenlit by the label yet.

But she’s convinced if they pull from her bucket of unfinished demos, they’ll have to say yes. She thinks she’s got some really good material just waiting to be mined in there -- in case they haven’t had the chance yet, she shared a Google Drive folder with them a couple weeks ago. She wrote some pretty good base material over the holidays, and she’s confident if they beef one of those up into pop perfection, there’s no way Global Beat will say no.

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and Melissa and Justin are obviously endeared by it. They tell her so, asking that she keep that energy up. It does them all good.

Justin: Seriously, you are adorable. And I’m with you, babe, the future is bright as neon.

Maya beams, glad they’re on the same page. However, Melissa hits the brakes a bit, albeit gently. She informs Maya that they also have confidence about the EP being greenlit, but they have a different strategy as to how to approach it.

Maya: Oh. Okay, well, let’s hear it. I’m listening. Melissa: So. Totally agree that we think with one more smash onto the scene, it would be braindead for Global not to take you on with a debut. Like, we’re so close we can basically taste it. We just wanna make sure we knock this last banger out of the park. Maya: One-hundred percent. I think I’ve got -- Justin: And we lucked out in this case, because we’ve got just the thing. The label has a track from the songwriting vault that they’ve been wanting to get out there for months, but they haven’t had the right vehicle for it. Nothing was hitting right. Melissa: But they’ve given us a shot at workshopping it. We think you might be just the right fit.

It’s in the same vein as “O.M.G.” and “LolliPop” sound wise, so they already know she can deliver the vocals. They’ll have a bigger budget for a video too if they can show the label that they have the track crafted well, which is precisely what they think they need. If they can blow up the scene with one more bombastic, colorful spectacle, there’s little doubt in their minds that Global Beat will basically be on their knees begging for an EP. If they can make magic with one of their thus-far abandoned gems, too, then even better.

Maya can see the logic in this approach, but she’s slightly disappointed by the trajectory. She was hoping for something that might show off more of her range -- especially since the lyrics she toyed around with over break were deeper cuts. She wasn’t necessarily keen to do another “O.M.G.”

But Justin and Melissa seem confident in it, and she does know she can deliver. If she can break through with this and nab that EP, then the time will come to show what she’s made of. All part of the game.

So she smiles and agrees, taking the info sheet on the vault track from them and getting a look for herself.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

JOSH MATTHEWS is having a client meeting of his own, back to working with ERNEST FLOYD. The fella is quite excited, because today, they’re finally discussing how to launch his debut into the actual musician ecosystem beyond occasional snippets, cheerful social media presence, and manifestations.

They’re going to drop a single. Floyd convinced Josh it was worth a stab after Maya’s immense success with it, and Josh figured it wasn’t worth the effort (or pain) to explain how different the situations are. Floyd’s enthusiasm is too darling to kill, and there’s not really a harm in letting him drop a standalone track. Soundcloud artists get their start that way all the time. And so long as Josh has his hand in mixing it, chances are it’ll be salvageable.

At least, he feels that way until Floyd declares what track he wants to use.

Floyd: We have to use my cover of “Feelin’ Good!”

That’s just about the worst thing he could’ve said. Josh is so stunned by it he’s speechless for a long moment, blinking as he tries to process this turn of events. Not only is it definitively out of Floyd’s range -- not a high bar -- but it’s been covered by people vastly more known and vastly more capable than him. He’s basically setting himself up for cringe failure right from the get-go.

Josh: Um -- Floyd: I think if we want to showcase my star power, it’s the obvious move. You said so yourself, I sound like I’ve got spunk on it. You can tell how much I like singing. It’s undeniably charming, right? That’s what you said after we tabled it for a bit. Josh: … I may have used… similar words… Floyd: Well, I think the time to un-table it has come. This is it, Josh. There’s no better way for me to break onto the scene than this.

He’s gonna break something, all right, namely any prospects of success he might have. They’re flimsy enough as it is. Josh opens his mouth to say as much, to caution him, but the excitement in his big blue eyes is hard to shoot down. 

Josh: Are you sure you want to go with that? We could revisit some of your original material, you were excited about those -- Floyd, positive: Nope. This is the one. I have a good feeling. [ with a laugh ] I guess you could say I’m feeling good, ha ha ha!

Ha ha. Josh manages to laugh along, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He doubts saying anything will make much of a difference, though -- Floyd seems to have his mind made up. He’s ecstatic and energized and ready to rock and roll.

Which means Josh better figure out how to make the track remotely decent, or figure out how to get this sinking ship to change course. 

It’s the only boat he has left.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - DAY

That’s not the only looming tragedy one could see coming a mile away… EVELYN RAND steps out of her office, quickly getting Lucas’s attention.

Evelyn: Lucas. Will you come chat with me for a minute?

Oh boy… Lucas nods and cautiously gets to his feet. His fellow assistants watch him go, exchanging knowing looks. By now, the rumor mill has done its job in the ranks of the school board, and there’s little to no mystery as to who may have obtained or passed along the evidence to get Yancy and Graham booted. There’s little to no proof, either, but that doesn’t stop people from making their judgments.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - EVELYN’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas follows Evelyn into her office, asking if there’s something he can do for her or a task she needs done. She waves off his polite offer, sitting down in her chair behind her desk and gesturing for him to take the one opposite.

Evelyn: And close the door, would you? Our colleagues are nosy enough -- don’t need to give them any incentive.

Playful as the remark is, the request confirms for Lucas what he already knows. He knows what this conversation is going to be. He gently shuts the door and then takes the seat across from her as directed, patiently waiting for her to speak. He does a decent job of schooling his features, but the prim way he’s seated gives away his apprehension.

Evelyn can sense it. She gives him a subtle head tilt.

Evelyn: I have the feeling you know why I called you in here. Lucas: … I might have a theory or two. Evelyn: That’s one reason I like you, you know. You’re smart. Clever, but not arrogant. Detail-oriented, good at picking up patterns. All things that make you a decent assistant, but that’ll surely serve you in any job you choose in the future. Lucas: How soon do you define “the future?”

He doesn’t beat around the bush either, albeit with a classic hint of cheek… Evelyn smiles, though the moment is bittersweet.

Evelyn: I’m sure you’re aware of the rumors that you were involved in the exposé job that took down Graham and Yancy. Many reports seem to think you were an inside source. Lucas: No one’s said so to my face. [ a beat ] Do you believe them? Evelyn, diplomatically: I rarely accept rumors at face value. I prefer facts and evidence to gossip and hunches. However, I wouldn’t be entirely truthful if I claimed I didn’t have my own theories…

Unsurprisingly, she’s not an idiot. Working as closely with Lucas as she did -- and he, her -- it doesn’t take much imagination to make the pieces fit together. Especially with all the oddness these last couple weeks…

Evelyn: Regardless, it doesn’t matter what I believe. The impression of it is enough, and we know how much people in the political sphere care about impressions. After the resignations, trust has eroded enough in the board as it is.

So it doesn’t matter whether Evelyn thinks he stole from the board or not. It doesn’t matter if she thinks it was for a good reason, or if the actions were justified. What matters above all is how it looks, and understandably, having her assistant be responsible for the takedown of two fellow members and their corruption without investigative authority is not a good one.

Lucas: So, are you going to fire me, or should I follow suit and resign? Evelyn: It’s funny you should ask. Because I do happen to have the approved write-up for a nifty little severance package we’re willing to offer you, should you decide to resign quietly and without fanfare effective immediately…

She picks up the print out with the details and hands it to him across the table, then offers a wink. Getting a payout for packing up is better than nothing -- and it seems like Evelyn is far from disappointed with his performance, all things considered. Resigning will look better than being let go, too.

Lucas: I’m sure employers aren’t going to be too impressed with how short my stint was on my resume. Evelyn: I wouldn’t be too concerned about that. The rumors aren’t confirmed, but the corruption was public news. It’s more than believable you’d want to protect your identity, as a whistleblower of sorts -- all you need to do, should they decide to care, is pull up an article or two to send their way. Or simply omit the months on your resume, and let the years vaguely speak for themselves.

Resume building is all about artful fudging, after all. Lucas nods, keeping his eyes on the paper she handed him. To clarify any misconception of judgment, Evelyn clears her throat and waits for him to meet her eyes, then offers another light smile.

Evelyn: I’m not worried about your prospects, Lucas. You work hard. You have ambition. I have very little doubt that you have a very bright future ahead of you, just maybe not within the realm of administration. [ a beat ] Besides, the timing works rather well, doesn’t it? This’ll free you up before you inevitably jet off to California in a few months.

Lucas absorbs that. Sure, Jack has told him similar sentiments, and his friends are always puffing him up. But hearing it come from someone objective, someone high-powered and hard-working in their own right, who didn’t have any ulterior motive to give him the time of day… that hits. It means something, and definitely lessens the blow of termination.

Lucas: Well, thanks. For taking a chance on me. Not sure I gave you a return on investment, but… Evelyn: I think you did exactly what was needed. The district is undoubtedly better for it.

That’s about all they can say on the record on the matter. Lucas manages a smile, then claims he guesses he better go pack his things. Before he steps out of the office, Evelyn calls him back one more time. She has a message she’d like him to pass along.

Evelyn: Please tell your roommate Mister Gardner that he’s a terrible liar. I’ve had enough discussions with his mother on the state of the district to know where he got his talking points. [ with a grin ] He gave it a decent effort, but it just didn’t ring true coming from him.

Yeah, she was onto them the whole time. Somehow, that amuses Lucas more than anything else. Biting back a smile, he promises her he’ll pass the message on.

With that, she nods and lets him go, giving him one final dismissal as his boss.

[ 409 Hub ] [ Next (Part 1, half 2) → ]

[bloodiedlamb]

📂 . 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝗹𝗲

⸺˚⁎⁺˳・ jason fucking carver picked the wrong girl to go after in his search for chrissy’s killer, and eddie’s done running.

⌗ PAIRING . eddie munson x fem ! reader.

⌗ WORD COUNT . 0.9k

⌗ WARNINGS . reader gets attacked, getting threatened/attacked with a knife, lots of violence, jason’s fucking insane in this, non-sexual choking, physical fighting, lots of blood, near death experiences all around the board, slight st4 vol 1 spoilers. some topics may be triggering, read at your own risk.

⌗ NOTES . this was originally posted on my old account @/saintlessmunson.

your back was to the door when he entered the trailer, hell, you were so far into your own world that you didn’t even notice him come in.

he stood there for a moment, the door not fully closed behind him as he watched you flit around the kitchen, humming to the beat of a metallica song he didn’t recognize.

eddie had been on the run for three days, and the news had just confirmed him as the prime suspect in chrissy cunningham’s death. but, since you had been there, you knew the truth of what had happened. your boyfriend of nearly two years told you that since nobody else knew you were there, that you were safe from facing any jail time and wanted you to stay as far away from him as possible.

but you, of course, knew that he was holed up at reefer rick’s house. and you also knew that he was coming to see you tonight, in the middle of the night, because he needed to make sure that you were okay.

the boy in the living room felt a new kind of rage flood his veins. how the fuck could the freak get to have this beautiful little creature to call his when his girlfriend was dead. murdered. by that son of a bitch’s hand.

you couldn’t even scream by the time you felt him grab you, a hand over your mouth and another around your throat. the abundant amount of old spice cologne let you know exactly who your attacker was.

jason fucking carver.

you writhed and thrashed in his arms, to no avail, because he slammed your head against the fridge, sending your vision miles away from you.

the room spun, and your ears rang something terrible but you still tried to escape his grasp.

“if i can’t have my girl,” jason mutters like a man gone mad, “then neither can he.”

it’s only then that you see the glimmer of his pocket knife. your heart races, only furthering the dizziness in your skull.

eddie knew something was wrong when he saw that the door wasn’t closed. he noticed an unfamiliar car parked a few lots down on the street, empty but with the engine still running. and he knew that there was no reason to leave a car running unless you were planning to get out fast.

he threw reefer rick’s pontiac into park and flew from the driver’s seat, bursting into the door faster than he’s ever moved before in his life. and he was just in time to see carver trailing his knife up your shirt and around your throat.

“glad you finally decided to join us,” he hums emotionlessly. “i really didn’t want you to miss this.”

“let her go, she’s got nothing to do with this,” eddie tries to reason, his heart clenching when he sees the blood trailing from your hairline and the tears flowing down your cheeks.

“she’s got everything to do with this, freak!” jason bellows as he grips you tighter, nearly cutting your airway off completely as you scratch at his wrist. “you took my fucking girl so i’m gonna take yours.”

at the first dribble of blood that comes with the pressure from jason’s knife, eddie’s like a shark that senses chum in the water.

all he sees is red, and all he feels is the fire that burns in him. his entire life, all he’s ever done is run away from the fight. but not this time, this time he runs into the fight.

he trucks jason at a million miles an hour, effectively disarming him and tossing you out of harms way all in one go. next thing he knows there’s blood, lots and lots of blood and it’s everywhere. it’s on the walls and it’s on his mainly white t-shirt and it’s on the floors and it’s on his hands and he can’t even see the color of his skin anymore but he can’t fucking stop. he can’t stop until he’s dead because if he doesn’t, if he runs away yet again, he’s gonna lose you for good. and he can’t lose another fucking thing that he loves.

you’re curled into yourself in the corner, holding your head from the pain of the initial slam against the metal fridge. you won’t look at eddie, or jason, and it’s not because you don’t want to see it, it’s because you don’t want to have to acknowledge the fact that if eddie had been five minutes later, you’d be the one bleeding to death.

to both of your surprise, eddie stops before jason takes his last breath, spitting next to his head as he pushes himself up from the floor. “come after me all you want, but you stay the fuck away from my girl, you ignorant piece of shit. you understand me? or next time i will fucking kill you.”

jason can only look at eddie through bloody lenses before groaning out a gargled, “yeah.”

then he’s over at you, pausing before his hands reach you as he notices the sticky red liquid that dries on his skin. he grabs the nearest cloth, which happens to be your table cloth, and scrubs as much of it off as he can. his arms surround you like the wings of an angel and you sob into his chest. “you came.”

“i’m done running,” he mutters into your hair, holding you tightly. “i’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

“no,” you whimper, “this is vecna. all of this is vecna.”

“i should’ve never let you stay out here on your own, god, how was i that stupid?” and it’s then that you realize you two are stuck, together, and that hawkins can never be home again.

🗃 file box . ✉️ mailbox .

© saintsinnereject, 2022.

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[thomasxking]

One thing was drunk Renan – unfiltered and saying everything that crossed his lips without even spending one second to think – and another was regular Renan, who was apparently every bit of flirty as Thomas assumed he would be. Why would he not when he looked so damn hot and he knew it? That allied with the fact that they had sex before was enough to break up the ice between them. Enough for Renan to feel like he could approach him and invite him to this lovely day at the beach and definitely enough for Thomas to agree with it, even if he had no damn clue of what he was doing. Overall, he did like to be kept on his toes. Not many things could surprise him anymore and to have someone that would look past the King name and seek the man called Thomas instead was… it was probably what Thomas had wanted and never truly knew he needed. “A slap? Please.” Thomas grumbled and wiggled his ass a couple of times before he finally sank down onto the board. “Either you spank it hard or don’t spank at all. A slap is what you give to misbehaving brats. A spank is what you give to an ass you want to fuck. Easy.” Renan was being overly flirty – something that Thomas was both finding endearing and at the same time knowing full well that remarks like those were probably given to everyone with a cute face and a nice body around. Not that he needed Renan’s compliments to feel special or wanted since Thomas was already fully aware of how damn hot he was and how lucky anyone would be to have them by their side. “I sucked your dick. I fucked you. I think we are way past the Mr. King thing. Unless you want me to call you Mr. Carvalho too?” His lips curled into a smile as he watched Renan come closer to him, those smooth hands finding his hips in order to secure him so that anything he would try wouldn’t end up with the younger King eating sand so early on the afternoon. “You are making it incredibly hard for me to focus when you’re dishing out so many compliments. Bet you say that to everyone.” Shit, did the same so there was no issue there. But not everyone would have the balls to just come to him and hold his hips just to have him close – and prevent him from a rather embarrassing crash on the sand. “I’m half-tempted to fall just so I can pin you down underneath me… but I’ll behave and focus on learning this.” That was the main reason why he was at the beach. If all he wanted was Renan’s body underneath his, all he needed to do was say it.

A smile lingered for longer than it should on Thomas’ face as he heard the instructions being given, focusing solemnly on Renan’s tips on how he could get on the board without falling, enjoying the patience that the other man was displaying on teaching him what was probably one of the most basic things on surf – especially for a professional surfer. Renan was giving him as much time of his day as Thomas was giving him and that… “You don’t need to say thank you for this, pretty boy.” Thomas stood on his board and gently brought one hand to Renan’s face so that he could lift his chin to make their eyes meet. This was… truly important to Renan, wasn’t it? Sharing one of his biggest passions with someone else. Showing that side of him that probably most people wouldn’t see or understand. “I’m here because I want to. And because I never saw you surf live. I may have seen some videos but that’s different.” Their lips met in a quick yet tender kiss as Thomas chuckle at the choice of words used by Renan and he wetted his lips before he leaned down to collect his board and shove it under his arm. “All I’m riding is a wave? Nothing more? No more ridding than waves?” His Cheshire grin grew as Thomas wiggled his eyebrows and looked at the sea. That was their next stop. If he had to make a complete fool out of himself, might as well get that done and over with. “I’m great at riding… maybe just not waves. And as for you?” Thomas took one second to admire just how damn hot Renan looked – reminding himself of that night at the office. “I’ll give you something to ride while I ride the board… if you play your cards right.” And then he bolted toward the sea without even looking back. “Last one to reach the sea bends over for the over!”

"You're the one who doesn't want to come across as a total dumbass," he teased, bringing back the conversation they'd just had, "showboating when you don't even know what to do will certainly do that for you," not that he thought the King could ever look like an idiot, even if he was completely tossed around like a rag doll out there he was certain that Thomas would still be one of the sexiest men on the island. Watching him drop to his knees though, the slow movement that he'd made to situate himself, that damn perky ass of his staying in the air just a little longer than it should - oh he knew that Thomas was fucking teasing him and Renan was absolutely loving every minute. "I have never wanted to be a surfboard more than in this moment," to have the King brother on top of him like that, holy shit this sight was what fantasies were made up. "You keep that ass primed up in the air like that and I might just have to give it a slap," he smirked, watching as Thomas did as he was supposed to moving like he was swimming, leaning with the board the best he could do on the sand.

"You could just fucking sit on your board and you'd be the hottest man here, Thomas, or should I call you Mr. King since this is technically a business meeting, just as much as it is a date?" He smirked, wanting to call their time together what it truly was, an actual date that Renan was beyond thrilled about. Never would he have thought he'd have the opportunity to be out here like this with Thomas, "no showboating required, just you being here is enough for me to have eyes only for you," even if a gorgeous man came running by them on the shore Renan wouldn't even notice him because his attention was solely where it belonged, on the beautiful man before him who was actually TRYING the sport that Renan loved so. When he mentioned standing Renan chuckled, "makes sense, here, let me help you with it," he walked over and crouched beside the other, taking his hands and placing them at the mans sides. "If you fall i'll catch you," okay, so maybe this was more just an excuse to be close to him and touch him.

Renan told him, step by step, in a slow manner what needed to be done for a successful stand once they were on the water. "It's not as hard as it looks," he assured him, though he knew that the man would have a hard time at first until he found his center of balance and truly began to trust it. "You can either fall here on the sand, or it might be easier to do it in the water, we'll go waist high so I can stay in the water," he shrugged, wanting to make the other as comfortable as possible while he taught him. The last thing he'd want was for Thomas to absolutely hate it, "I really do appreciate you giving this a chance, Thomas," he gave the others shoulder a soft squeeze as he grinned looking down at him, "it means the world to me." Obviously it had meant that he'd made an impression on the King and had meant something, no matter how little, to him, and for that Renan was beyond thrilled. "You're going to ride a wave today, I can guarantee it, but the waves aren't the only thing that'll get ridden today..." He of course couldn't help but throw that last teasing remark in, unable to contain that excitement for what would come later.

[sugamamacustard]

Come see me

Pairing: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo X Omega! Reader

Genre: Minor Angst, but other than that, fluffy cuddle piles. 

Request: Hi kinda nervous to request this since I'm very shy but..Is it okay to request a scenario where omega reader is feeling very insecure and jealous after idk like some new person comes in the pack and everyone is paying attention to them and reader feels very neglected but keeps quiet, starts spending more time with their friends and avoids the pack and their alpha. And then the pack plus alpha notices and drags reader back, and reassures them, and the entire pack cuddles and hug reader. Kinda like angst to fluff. Could be any team and any alpha. Though I prefer kuroo and nekoma. Sorry if it's too long I've always wanted an imagine like this. You don't have to do it if you don't wanna tho! I was just asking :)Have a good day💜

Summary:  Being a manager for Nekoma was a thankless job, but one you were proud to do. You were surrounded by alphas who wanted what was best for you and in turn, you wanted what was best for them. However, sometimes what’s best for them...may not be best for you or your omega.

Warnings: Jealous omega! reader, reader almost goes into an omega depression, small angst,

Author’s Note: No need to be shy, darling! This is my first request for this blog so I’m super excited to write this and to fulfill my first request.!

Requests: Open!

Tetsuro Kuroo

➵ Originally, the idea of another manager for the Nekoma team excited you.

➵ You were really pumped to have an extra set of hands on board to help keep scores, or pick up balls, or put up and take down nets. 

➵ To have someone else to joke and laugh with on the sidelines while Yaku was yelling at Lev, or to assist you in prying Kenma’s switch from his hands so he can eat.

➵ Having another manager seemed like such a good idea. A new friend for the pack. 

➵ Until it wasn’t. 

➵ Ichika was a kind and sweet girl in class 2-B (You were in 2-D), and originally you and her got along well.

➵ Your omega didn’t outright hate her, more of an indifference, and your personalities melded well together.

➵ And from what you’ve heard from her friends, she talked about the boys on the volleyball team a lot.

➵ So you figured she would be a good fit. 

➵ However, you weren’t certain on it anymore.

➵ Maybe she was too good of a fit. 

➵ ‘You’re being silly’ You told yourself. 

➵ ‘She’s getting to know the team, that’s all’ You practically chanted in your head like a mantra.

➵ ‘She’s honing in on our pack. Our alpha.’ Your omega sneered, padding in a circle before flopping down, growling lowly.  You tried reminding her that Kuroo was nothing more than a captain. 

➵ An attractive captain who who you found yourself finding every opportunity in the book to talk too. But that was fine print. 

➵ He was not your alpha. He was the commanding alpha of the volleyball team, but not yours. 

➵ And maybe that was what hurt most. Knowing you had Zero claim on anyone in the pack, therefore you had no right to demand the attention.

➵ They gave their attention to who they wanted. 

➵ Even if nowadays, it seemed to be Ichika more and more often then not. 

➵ It hurt, when you both would be sitting on the sidelines and Inuoka would brush right past you to chat with Ichika.

➵ Or when you both would be passing out towels and water bottles and they only thanked her. 

➵ It began hurting to the point you had to bite down whines or whimpers. Your omega was upset, therefore you were even more upset. But they seemed happy,

➵ Who were you to ruin that? 

➵ Just because you saw them as pack, doesn’t mean they saw you in the same light. 

➵ You tried pushing away that god awful thought, but it was planted and nothing was moving it. 

➵ And whether you noticed it or not, you were acting on that thought.

➵ You didn’t stay after practice for anyone, instead cleaning up quickly and efficiently while the boys were in the change room. 

➵ Leaving behind your notes for that day’s practice along with the gym keys right in front of the door. 

➵ You didn’t wait for anyone and took a different way home so no-one would try to walk with you.

➵ You needed to separate from them, even if it hurt. Even if you cried on the way home. Even if you stayed in your nest from the minute you got home to the minute you had to leave for school the next day.

➵ Even if your meals got smaller and smaller. 

➵ You never sat with the team anymore, Ichika taking your spot like she belonged there. 

➵ Instead you sat with a group of friends from your class. They never asked any questions, which you were thankful for. 

➵ You began wearing scent blocking patches to hide your scent, hide the sour note that almost always accompanied it. 

➵ You just...tried to disappear. You still fulfilled your manager duties as you always did, but never more. 

➵ Never gave words of encouragement. No pointers on how to improve. No jokes on Lev’s behalf. No nothing. 

➵ And holy shit, that Irked Kuroo. 

➵ He was always so excited for practices at the end of the day because that was when he would get to show off in front of you. 

➵ Prove he was a strong alpha. 

➵ He would admit, he liked you...A lot. He was even working on a future courting gift (It was a bracelet with intricate beading that looked almost like a cuff) but was having a few difficulties so couldn’t gift it to you yet.

➵ However, you were pulling away. 

➵ Away from him. Away from the pack. Just away. 

➵ You barely even glanced their way anymore.

➵ During practice, you just sat there, completed homework, then took notes. He never saw you after that.

➵ He tried to pack up as fast as he possibly could at the end of practice but was always late. You were always, without fail, gone. No trace of you ever being there except the notes you left in your wake with the keys. 

➵ His alpha kept barking at him to stop you. To come up with any excuse to keep you here long enough for him to walk you home in the very least. But you were always gone.

➵ He tried everything, but you seemed one step ahead of him. 

➵ His alpha blamed Ichika. Ever since she showed up you began pulling away.

➵ Were you jealous? Were you angry with them for trying to keep her away?

➵ They only put up with her because it was obvious you didn’t like her. So they tried keeping her away. 

➵ Was that backfiring on them? 

➵ Kuroo didn’t even know why there was another manager. You were perfect for them. Like a puzzle piece. Their personal cheerleader. 

➵ Maybe school was piling on you?

➵ No. You always went to him for help.

➵ Maybe the duties were too much?

➵ No because you were still doing them all.

➵ Come to think of it, what was Ichika even doing? 

➵ She did nothing except fawn over them and purr over their skills, which was nice for the ego boost at first, but soon just got annoying when she tried scenting them.

➵ It seemed she was fixated on him especially, trying to rub her neck all over him only for him to push her off with a growl. He had only scented two people in his life. 

➵ Kenma, because he needed the practice, and you, which was why he practiced. 

➵ And he planned to keep it that way. 

➵ But you were still staying away. So he scented no one. 

➵ The final straw was a Friday practice. 

➵ You were sitting a ways a way in the corner, doing your work with your jacket wrapped in front of you like a boundary. 

➵ His heart hurt at the thought of you feeling the need to recluse yourself like this.

➵ He made a motion to Kenma, his co-commanding alpha, who nodded before making his way to you. 

➵ As he should’ve predicted, Ichika intercepted him. She tried to hug him, but he dodged, side stepping and trying to get to you, but she persisted.

➵ “Why don’t you give me the same attention you give her, huh? Rumor has it she’s been bordering on dropping for days, nothing but attention seeking in my humble opinion.”

➵   He paused in his efforts, looking down to her once more.

➵ “I’m sorry?” 

➵ Ichika rolled her eyes. “It’s been all over school. Surprised you haven’t heard. She skips lunch more often than not, nowadays. People have even started bets as to when she finally drops. Real shame though. Gonna miss having someone else do all the work.”

➵ You were missing lunches. Lunches were meals he could guarantee you ate, and you suddenly weren’t doing so anymore. He was failing you.

➵ You were dropping right under their noses and as your pack they were watching it happen. 

➵ As your head alpha, and hopefully future alpha, he was watching you drift away and ultimately fade from him.

➵ He was watching this happen?!

➵ What part of this was okay?! None of it. 

➵ He was loosing you. Hell, if he hadn’t lost you already. 

➵ No. You were here, at school, He still had time. He still had a chance. He still had- his jacket and bento. 

➵  Turning tail, the alpha made his way to his bag, digging out the bento (Come to think of it, he hadn’t been eating much since this whole debacle started anyway) and grabbing his jacket before making his way to you once more.

➵ He didn’t pay any mind to Ichika, this time fully shoving past her to get to you. 

➵ You looked up to him skeptically, watching as the alpha, the head alpha, bent to lay on his knees, slowly putting the bento on his jacket and sliding it in front of you. 

➵ Your heart and mind were going a mile a minute as you watched the commanding fucking alpha of the pack, bow to you. Ask for your permission to get close to you. 

➵ What-

➵ “Hi?”

➵ Kuroo said nothing in return, only lowering his chin to the ground, looking up to you. Almost waiting for you to allow him closer. 

➵ When you said nothing he motioned towards the bento with a nod of his head. He was almost like a pup with how minimal his actions were. 

➵ When you slowly took the bento, he raised in time with the box, watching you open it. when you popped a small bit of rice into your mouth. He purred loudly, slowly inching closer. He laid his jacket over yours, adding another layer to your barrier, which you slowly moved to allow him in. 

➵ He crawled into your space, slowly moving your books and bag to nuzzle into your neck. You allowed him to, eating more rice-- which seemed to appease him. 

➵ One by one, more of the teammates came by, offering their jackets to your now makeshift nest, joining in on the cuddle pile. 

➵ All but Ichika, who seemed to angrily stomp about while cleaning up the few stray volleyballs. 

➵ But you didn’t really care about her at this point. 

➵ Your omega was at peace, especially with the alpha you’ve been pinning after purring into your neck, scenting you and pressing small kisses to your neck.

➵ This was your pack. Your home.

➵ And they wouldn’t let you fall behind. 

[ecliptsukki]

falling for you ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki / cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff, slight comedy

➣ warnings: cursing

➣ a/n: i’m far too in love with this man. i can’t help myself. also if you have anything you want me to write, send it to my inbox!

- he first met you at "S," seeing you stood by langa and reki

- his silky pink hair flowed behind him in the wind, his bangs lifting to reveal his golden eyes. those golden orbs are locked on you the entire time he skates closer to you

- the lack of bickering that usually arose between cherry and joe had caught joe's attention

- joe notices cherry's gaze on a particular y/h/c. he almost snorts, almost, but, being a teasing lil bitch kidding, he decides to jab at cherry's side

- "hey, do you see that girl over there? she's cute, isn't she?"

- the bubblegum-colored hair male glares holes into his friends head

- "i'm sure she wouldn't be interested in a muscle-brained gorilla like yourself"

- "bOI, DID YOU JUST-"

- skates off into the distance, further closing the gap between the two of you

- girls and guys start cheering for and fawning over cherry, as well as joe. this catches your attention because you're surprised mostly by the fawning of the people. honestly, you wouldn't say that anyone you've seen there is worthy of so much attention, excluding your two best buds: langa and reki.

- you're actually older than reki and langa by 3 years. you met reki on coincidence.

- you had borrowed your friend's skateboard to cruise around the town. you had felt overwhelmed with all that had been going on in your life, and you wanted to find an escape. your friend, wanting to help you with that mission, offered the board, saying "it's really fun and gets your mind off of things whenever you need." obviously, you took up on the offer because it was a nice spring day: the sun out and the bright colors of nature and the city filling your misty eyes.

- you skated by the skate park and saw a particular redhead practicing ollies and other tricks. you were impressed by the skill he had portrayed, yet you were also envious of how light he seemed, how his eyes twinkled with joy. your gaze must've rested too long on the boy because he approached you soon after.

- reki, later on, introduced you to langa, bringing you to where you were today

- you came to "S," though unwillingly, to support langa in his beef against another fellow skater

- honestly, you detested that your younger friends were participating in illegal activities but never brought it up because you saw how happy they looked whenever they spoke about the beefs

- anYWAYS-

- looking into the distance, you see a masked man in a white yukata, hair flowing behind him, and a green haired, shirtless, buff man skating closer

- "who's that?" you ask your friends

- "oh! that's cherry blossom and joe. they are the founding members of "S." cherry has an ai board, and joe has incredible power," reki pips

- you nod, acknowledging the two men as they stepped off of their skateboards

- “well hello there,” the green haired man winks at you

- “hi,” you flush, eyes wandering between his gaze and his bare chest

- “what’s a pretty little lady like yourself doing with these two kids?”

- “uh-”

- reki tries to jump joe but is held back by langa because we know that reki doesn’t stand a chance against big muscle man

- joe gets all up and comfy with you, flexing his muscles and talking about who knows what

- your attention was mostly on the blue-nette friend of yours. you were still very anxious about this entire thing

- “she’s not even paying attention to you anymore, you idiot,” the masked man speaks

- embarrassed that they noticed your rude behavior, you begin to excessively apologize

- “no, please don’t apologize. i should’ve realized you were worried about your friends,” joe says modestly

- “there’s no need to worry about snow. he’s fully capable of staying safe. we’ve seen him skate many times, and he always comes out in one piece. i’m sure you’ll be impressed as well,” cherry says in his monotonous tone

- “snow?” you tilt your head to the side in confusion

- when i tell you cherry MELTED, i mean that he MELTED

- stomach? churning. heart? fluttering. cheeks? flushing. hotel? trivago

- bRO, why are you SO FUCKING ADORABLE

- “snow is langa,” joe explains when he notices cherry’s flustered silence

- “ohhhhhh-”

- “actually, i’ve just realized. we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. call me joe,” he looks expectantly at his friend

- “you may call me cherry,” the man thanked the lords that he wore a mask because if he wasn’t, you’d see the obvious rose tint on his cheeks

- “i’m y/n! i came here with reki and langa.”

- to say cherry’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. his heart was more so shattered and pulverized.

- did i just fall for a minor? FU-

- “but i’m older than them, of course.”

- lemme just pick up the shards of my broken heart and re-piece it back together

- you barely talked to cherry that night his fault for acting so cold, but you were intrigued by the man. i mean he skates on a talking skateboard, how can you not?

- cherry leaves “S” that night, regretting all his life decisions because instead of talking to you, he avoided you

- who knows when’s the next time he’d meet you?

- lmao, SiKe

- you walk into sakurayashiki calligraphy, awkwardly waiting to be interviewed

- his pink hair meets your eyes, the long, silky hair framing the man’s pale face. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, enhancing his golden eyes. he is clad in a navy blue yukata

- hm, he looks familia-

- you almost gasp aloud, as you realize who he is

- not wanting to jump to conclusions, you ask, “have we met before?”

- kaoru is freaking out, though he hides it well under his professional mask

- what the heck? she’s the one looking for a job here?

- “yes, we have, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about”

- yiKeS, nice first impression on your, hopefully, new boss, y/n

- throughout the entire interview, you impressed him with the slightest of things

- you were beyond professional and exactly what he looked for in employees

- damn it. why is she so perfect?

- you walk out of the building with the brightest smile on your face, ecstatic with the news that you had been hired

- kaoru follows closely behind you, acting gentlemanly as he leads you out

- “thank you so, so much. i promise i will work my hardest to make your business even stronger and better than before”

- “no, the honor’s all mine. i can tell that you’ll become a valuable asset”

- you’re bowing your head and thanking him to a crazy amount that he starts to worry that you’re getting dizzy

- mustering up all the courage he could, he speaks up, “actually, i don’t really like talking about the skating half of my life...”

- you mutter a genuine apology for bringing it up before

- “it’s alright, but i was wondering if you wanted to go to “S” with me next time. i understand if you decline. i won’t fire you for it,” he tries to add a joke to lighten his tense mood

- you giggle at his nervous and awkward behavior, “good to know i won’t get fired if i say no, but sure! i wouldn’t mind going again. it’s a good opportunity to let me watch over reki and langa—”

- “that-that’s great,” he sighs with relief

- “—and i can get to know you better,” you mutter quietly under your breath

- he flushes, hearing what you said perfectly

- “i wouldn’t mind that either”

- you couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the soft smile on kaoru’s face, whilst kaoru was busy sleeping, lost in his dreams of you and him together

- the both of you couldn’t wait to get to know each other more