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ambitionsource · 2 years ago

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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) → ]

#409 #episodes #s4

1 note · View note

adobe-outdesign · 6 years ago

Note

if the batim cast looked into the mirror of erised from harry potter (if you don't know what that is, you look into the mirror and see your desires. erised is desire beackwards lol), what do you think they would individually see?

Henry: Himself on a podium, giving a speech loudly and confidently, speaking his mind. Linda cheers him on from the crowd with their kids.

Joey: Henry and him, laughing and drawing cartoons like in the good old days.

Sammy: Himself, conducting a huge orchestra.

Jack: Himself, but considerably younger with more hair, considerably different features, etc. If it was a few years earlier he’d probably look thinner too.

Susie: A perfect Alice.

Norman: Both of his parents (they both died before he reached his 20s).

Allison: Herself getting married to Thomas.

Thomas: Himself in a wedding tux, petting his old dog that died years ago.

Shawn: Him and Wally, asleep on the couch together. They both have rings on.

Wally: Himself in a tux with Shawn holding his hand.

Grant: Himself, but clearly looking much healthier and less tired (IE him but without the chronic depression).

Bertrum: Himself standing in front of the gates to Bendy Land, rides disappearing into the sky above him.

Lacie: Her parents, arms wrapped around her, clearly glad to see her. Lacie herself has a more traditional “feminine” appearance.

#suffice to say some people have much deeper desires than others #bendy and the ink machine #joey drew #jack fain #lacie benton #susie campbell #outdesign has headcanons #knife-wielding-tentacle #Ask

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wandaownsthisass · 4 years ago

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Why'd You Have to Leave? -- Wanda Maximoff x Reader

a/n: You and Wanda have a fight, she leaves, proving to you that everyone leaves eventually.

-- This fic idea was very random & I'm not sure I like the ending but what can ya do 🤷‍♀️ I hope y'all enjoy it.

Words: 5359

Warnings: Angst! Some swearing & mentions of alcohol, brief mention of a panic attack. NSFW. 18+ Only.

You knew this would happen.

I mean it always does, sometimes sooner than others. But it is inevitable really. In the end, you were always the one to blame, because truthfully it was you who drove people away.

Over and over and over, until they could not take it any longer.

Over and over and over again, you proved to yourself that no one would stay.

So really, you knew this would happen.

It didn’t hurt any less though, watching the person you truly thought would stay, just leave.

She was only supposed to be gone for a month, on a mission that required her to go undercover, no phone calls, no texts, no mail. Nothing. Silence for an entire month, which normally you could have handled but the fight before her departure replayed in your mind, like a broken record.

Except a broken record was once whole, and you’re not sure the relationship you had with Wanda was ever that.

The tears. The shouting. The door slamming. And then silence, complete silence.

And when the day came around for Wanda to come back home, you waited impatiently by the door, ears perking up at every small sound, heart racing when the distant chatter from the team got just a little louder. But then it was almost 10 at night, and worry started to flood your thoughts.

It didn’t last long before a knock came at your door, it was so light you thought you imagined it. Anxiety filling you, you held your breath before replying “Come in”.

You watched slowly as the door creaked open, almost as if the person behind it was hesitant to enter.

It was Natasha, and you felt the dread creep back up your body, reaching your throat, tightening as you held back the tears that threatened to breakthrough.

You didn’t dare speak, for the fear of cracking in front of her. Instead, you let her take the lead, as you chewed insistently on your bottom lip.

“How are you doing?” She whispered, approaching slowly, coming to a stop at the end of your bed.

You nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. Which she did, and you sat for a moment, almost unsure of how to answer.

Miserable. Scared. Maybe even grieving.

You settled with an “I’m fine”

She disliked your response, her brows furrowed at your words.

“You’ve barely left your room this past month, we’re worried about you”

You scoffed, irritated at the sudden interest in your well-being.

“Why are you here Nat?” You spat.

Your voice breaks, and you’re not even sure if she heard the next words, “Is she coming home?”

The blonde doesn’t even need to reply, her expression failing her instantly, a look of pity directed at your sad state.

“Get out”

Natasha doesn’t bother trying to fight with you, uttering “She’s alive Y/N, I think she just needs time alone”

And with that, she leaves. Her words cut deeper than you thought they would.

She consciously decided to leave you, longer than needed for a stupid mission, not even bothering to tell you herself.

And in some dark twisted way, you thought her death would hurt less.

By the time the next month rolled around, any hope you had left started to die off. Natasha was the only one that heard from Wanda, once a week you would watch Natasha rush off to a secluded area, engaging in a hushed conversation. The calls only lasted a few minutes and although you had started to occupy yourself with other tasks, you couldn’t help but feel the gut-wrenching ache in your stomach when the blonde would look over at you.

A few more weeks passed by and it was an unbearably warm day, which you spent outside suffering through one of Steve’s grueling workouts when you heard the familiar buzz of the Quinjet approaching the compound.

Despite your condition, you noticed Steve’s worried features glance your way before running off to the approaching jet.

There it was. That dread and sadness you worked so hard to push down, came flooding back like a dam bursting.

Even from this far away you knew it was her. Her red hair glistening in the sweltering sun. You watched the rest of the team sweep her into hugs, but your interest in her was interrupted by a taller unfamiliar figure standing behind her.

You could barely make out their appearance, but they were not human. Skin coloured an unnatural red and blue. Almost synthetic-like. Their presence instantly leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

You waited for everyone to head inside before making your way to your room to shower.

You had hoped the cold water would shock the unwelcome feelings from your mind, but time alone only served to create more.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to enter the living room, where the team was catching up with Wanda and the new guest. You hesitated though, inching closer and closer to the doorway, before changing your mind, turning on your heel back the direction you came.

You had nearly turned around before a quiet voice halted your movements.

You froze just as Wanda’s voice hitched.

“Y/N?” she whispered; goosebumps forming immediately over your skin because it was like hearing her voice for the first time. Was her accent always this prominent?

You could have kept going. You could have ignored her and pretended like you didn’t care. But she was right behind you, and the desire to see her face after all this time overtook you.

You shifted your weight, taking a long deep inhale, bracing yourself. Turning around you averted your eyes, attempting to take her in slowly, hoping to warm up to see her face again after all this time.

So, you did just that and once your eyes arrived at her face, you realized no amount of preparation would have sufficed.

Her eyes seemed lighter like they were no longer burdened by the dullness of the compound and familiarity of her old life. It was as if they belonged to someone else, a person who you struggled to recognize.

Had it been that long? Did she always have that many freckles?

You shook your head, frustrated at the thoughts filling your head, and embarrassment began to creep up realizing you had yet to answer her.

“You’re back” You whispered back; afraid your voice may break if you talked any louder.

She hesitated, paused, observed you like she used to. So, you observed her back. Watched her watch you, a flitter occurring deep in your belly. Subconsciously shifting again on your feet, drawing her out of her stupor, she cleared her throat to answer, “Yeah I thought it was about time”

About time? Almost as if you were just an old friend, and it was time to play catch-up.

A dry laugh fell out of you. “Well, how nice of you to come back.”

A sigh crossed her lips, her eyes flickering down for a moment before returning to your intense gaze. “We should talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you spat back, eyes narrowing. “You said enough when you left without another word, and you said, even more, when you didn’t come back.”

Tears welled in your eyes, memories returning like unwanted guests. That’s when the tears started. That’s when you lost hold of your composure. Because her presence used to be warm. She was back, she came back. Her presence should have relieved you.

But it didn’t. It just hurt, cut open the wound you thought you started to patch back together, but just like that she ripped you open again. And you lost control, again.

You didn’t give her a chance to answer. Because nothing she would say at that moment could fix it. You weren’t sure if anything she would ever say would fix it.

So, you left. You heard her say your name one more time. It was desperate, broken. But you needed space. Tears blurred your vision as your feet carried you to the roof of the compound. You didn’t stay standing for long. The door shut behind you and you crumpled to the ground, sobs wracking your entire body, draining you of any air that was left.

You lied there, hyperventilating, trying desperately to catch your breath. Every fiber of this false control and composure you thought you weaved, just completely unraveled.

You thought you heard someone call your name, but it was so distant and all you could think of, all you felt was the gnawing at your chest.

Hands cupped your wet cheeks, stroking lightly, “Hey hey, Y/N I’m here. Take some deep breaths for me. I’m here”

Your eyes shot open at Wanda’s voice, wanting desperately to rip yourself from her hands. But you didn’t. You didn’t know if it was because you were exhausted or if you wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as you could. So, you stayed, allowing Wanda to sit behind you, taking the weight of your body against hers.

Her voice wavered, barely holding onto any stability, “That’s it, keep breathing.”

You heard sniffling behind you before her body began to shake. Her tear-stained hand coming into your peripherals for a brief moment.

Your body stiffened at the sight, anger starting to replace any feelings of anguish. You pushed away from her, standing abruptly. You swiveled around to take sight of her. The rims of her eyes were red, tears flowing freely from them.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, ignoring the concern that started to crawl into you.

She wiped another tear.

“I came to see if you were-”

“No. What are you doing back? Why did you come back?”

Anger laced itself in your voice. It took you straight back to that night. It was a stupid fight, both of you too stubborn to admit feelings, too stubborn to stop pushing one another away, too afraid to admit that you were in love. So, you snapped. You pushed to see how much it would take for her to walk away, how much she could handle. To see if she would stay.

It was wrong. It was childish. You knew that. You didn’t blame her; it was your fault after all. You pushed to prove that everyone leaves, and she proved it again.

You could see her reliving that night as well, her eyes staring hard at the ground below her. Her jaw clenched.

"I-I couldn't stand to be away from you any longer. I missed you."

“Stop. Just stop! I don’t want to hear that bullshit.” You yelled.

And you didn’t give her a chance to reply, “All those secret phone calls with Natasha, you couldn’t have just called to tell me yourself? I had to be told by Natasha that you wouldn’t be coming back. That’s all I got. How fucking pathetic. This time don’t follow me.”

The door slammed behind you. You turned the corner at the end of the stairwell and ran right into the stranger you had yet to meet. You glared up at him. His presence fuelled your anger.

“Hello Miss Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you know where Wan-”

“The roof. Now get out of my way.”

He’s pushed to the side, hitting the wall lightly as you brushed past him.

You spent that night in your room, huddled in blankets. Knocks came and went at your door. Each one met with a strangled fuck off, eventually taking the hint you wanted to be left alone.

You spent days in your room, losing track of time. The cycles of day and night coming and going like a blur, like scenes from a movie.

Once in a while, you could register a hushed voice from outside your room. You started to think you were just hallucinating them at times.

Then your solitude was interrupted by a presence entering your room. You didn’t see who it was. You were enveloped by the safety of your blankets, excluding any light that dared to enter your room.

“Y/N? I brought you some food”

It was Peter. You nearly broke at his voice, sadness lacing his words. He was by far your closest friend but being so busy at college you rarely saw him anymore. He knew of the current circumstances, but like most people, you shut him out.

You could only assume Natasha or Steve was responsible for his arrival at the compound. But it was a presence you welcomed. It surprised you. You were so sure that the past days spent alone in your room, you had officially cried out every feeling possible. You felt utterly empty. Endless nothingness.

You peeked out from the safety of your comforter, dry eyes meeting his warm gaze.

“Well, it’s nice to see you. I brought your favourite pizza. Although there is a catch, you do have to share with me,” He smiles, leaning over to grab the food.

“Thank you”

You cringed at the sound of your voice. It was hoarse. It was dry. It was so weak.

The two of you sat in silence for a while. You groaned at the taste of the pizza, finally realizing how malnourished your body was. It wasn’t long before it was gone.

“What time is it?”

“10 am and it’s Sunday”

Sunday. That meant it had been three days since Wanda returned.

“You brought me pizza at 10 am?” You laughed. The sound shocked you at first, you couldn’t remember the last time you laughed. It saddened you.

He smiled at that, “Well, who said you can’t eat pizza at 10 am? Plus, I thought you might need it. I’ve been worried about you. We all have. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I tried. I-I didn’t know how bad it had gotten”

You held up your hand, stopping him from continuing.

“Don’t apologize. Please. I didn’t make it easy”

“I want to ask how you are, but I feel like I know the answer”

You averted your eyes, taking a look around your room. Messy was an understatement. You could barely see the floor. You caught your reflection in a nearby mirror. You broke at the sight. How could you let yourself get like this?

“Hey, I’m right here. It’s going to be ok.”

Peter held you for a while, your tears eventually dying out. You pulled away from his tear-soaked shirt. Embarrassed and exhausted, you look at him, “I’m going to shower.”

You weren’t sure how long you spent washing off the dirt that built up over the past few days. You were angry and annoyed. How could you let her do this to you again?

You pushed away from the thought, instead, relishing in the warm water.

When you returned, clean and in new clothes, your room was tidy. Your bed made and the floor clear of riddled clothes and trash. Peter sat on your bed.

“Wow. Thank you for cleaning, you didn’t need to”

“It’s no problem. Really. I’m here for you. Now let’s go enjoy the day”

The team quieted down immediately at your presence, staring widely at the two of you. You hated the attention. You hated how you searched for Wanda amongst the group. You hated how disappointed you were when you noticed she wasn’t there.

Peter noticed your wandering gaze and grabbed your arm to drag you along.

The sun was blinding. Taking you longer than normal to adjust. But once you did, you stood there letting the warmth encase your entire body. You glanced over at Peter.

“She’s here still. She hasn’t left her room.”

You just stare at him.

“Sorry, is that what you wanted to know?”

You nod, “Has anyone talked to her?”

“Vision did. I don’t think it went too well though. He was thrown out of the room almost immediately. Thankfully he can phase through walls, so she didn’t do much damage.”

You breathe out, “Sounds like her”

Peter clears his throat. “Do you think you’re going to speak to her?”

“I’m not sure if I have anything to say”

You started to walk, and Peter followed. The past days spent in your room allowed you to reflect heavily on the situation. Whether you wanted to accept it or not, you loved Wanda. You’d fell for her the day you met her, nearly 3 years ago. Her presence frustrated you, made you experience things you came to believe you would never understand. She scared you, wholeheartedly.

Her presence also grounded you. Missions spent together allowed the two of you to grow closer, sharing hushed conversations about her life in Sokovia, your life growing up. Sharing painful memories but also the minor details about one another. By now, you could read each other without a second thought.

You didn’t realize the effect she had on you until she left. No one else on the team calmed you like she did. No one else could ever come close to her.

Peter cut in, disrupting your thoughts, “I think you do. I know it’s not my place, but I can see how much you two care about each other. I also know that neither of you have had it easy. But don’t you think you deserve something good? Whatever you two have is special, complicated even, but worth fighting for,”

“Maybe it’s about time you let yourself open up, let yourself have this. If it goes wrong, then at least you tried” He watched you hesitantly, knowing there was a possibility of him receiving a fist to the face.

Instead, you sat with it. Maybe he was right. “I’m scared,” you admitted, taking a deep breath at your vulnerability.

“That means you care, somewhere in that cold heart of yours.”

You shot him a glare, quickly replacing it with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

He was right. Not that you would admit that to him, ever. But you did care. You cared a lot. So, you stared at Peter for a moment before heading back inside. You walked right past the rest of the group for the second time, they watched you with curiosity as you headed down the opposing corridor, opposite your room. To Wanda’s.

You didn’t know how long you stood there for. You must have reached up to knock nearly ten times, and just when your fist was about to touch the wood, you froze. If you went in there you had to be vulnerable. You had to admit everything you didn’t want to. Everything you tried so fucking hard to run away from. You would have to do that for this person, and hope, just hope that they would accept all of you.

Wanda decided to be the push you needed. She had heard your battling thoughts from her chair in the corner. Where she had sat for the past days, thinking. She had wondered if you’d ever come. She had battled with just barging into your room and confessing everything. She attempted several times, sneaking out late at night. Nights spent hovered outside your door.

So, when she heard you outside her door, the tightness in her chest started to soften.

Red mist encased the door handle, and you watched as the door creaked open, it startled you at first before you comprehended what was happening. You stepped through the doorway and scanned for Wanda. And you found her, she sat in a chair across from you, she stared intently at you before her features softened, almost as if she still wasn’t sure, it’d be you walking through the door.

You cleared your throat, nervous under her gaze, “Hi”

“Hey, how are you?”

It was awkward.

"I'm go-", you stopped yourself, "I don't know. I have no idea"

She nodded. More silence.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day. It wasn’t very mature of me”

Wanda shifted in her seat, “Don’t apologize. You had-have every right to be angry with me. I’m so sorry Y/N. I really fucked up”, tears ran down her face, which she swiped away almost as fast as they came.

You remained rooted in your spot. Stuck between wanting to comfort her and keeping your distance. You stayed.

“Wanda, I want to be completely open with you. I know I don’t have the greatest track record for being the most vulnerable, but I’ve realized that whatever the outcome is, I need to be honest with you”

You moved to the edge of her bed and took a few minutes to gather your thoughts before continuing, "You are the most important person in my life. I haven't made it easy for you and I didn't make it easy on us. For that, I'm sorry. I hated letting people in, frankly, I didn't let anyone in until I met you. When we met, it was like I could breathe for the first time, which now that I'm saying that it sounds so cliche,"

“I wanted to push you away and prove to myself that everyone just leaves me. I’ll admit, it’s childish and unhealthy but I can’t change what I did. But when you left, it broke me. For a moment I thought you’d be the one to stay. And as much as I hate you for it, I can’t blame you.”

You looked up at Wanda. Taking a moment to catch your breath as the familiar tightness returned.

“I shouldn’t have left. Regardless of how hard it was. I don’t have an excuse for what I did, and I don’t have an excuse for how I handled things. It was immature and I am mad at myself for it. I never wanted to hurt you, I felt that me being there was just adding to the hurt.”

It was your turn for the tears to fall. You wished yours were more controlled, but you couldn’t help the way your body fell victim to everything you had tried to hold in.

Wanda stood immediately, closing the distance before stopping abruptly in front of your legs. You looked up at her through blurry eyes, your hands reached out before you knew what you were doing. Coming into contact with her sweater, you cried harder at the warmth radiating from her body. She stepped in and grasped your hands, placing them on her waist.

Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. Your knuckles nearly turned white, grasping onto her like she was your lifeline.

“It hurts me when you cry. Yet, I’m the reason for it”

Her hands made their way to yours, reaching back to release them gently from her shirt. Her thumbs continued their movements on the back of your hands. You both stayed there for some time, your tears becoming less frequent and your breath becoming deeper.

“Talk to me please”

Your eyes were closed but you felt her bend down, kneeling in front of you. Your eyes opened and her breath hitched, eyes red and puffy, but remained that bright green.

“Who is he?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment before realizing who it was you were asking about, “Vision?”

“Sure, the red dude”

She smiled briefly, “I met him on the mission, he was one of Stark’s AI’s, I guess he went off on his own for a while before making contact again”, “Why?”

“I think he likes you”

“He had to hear a lot about me while we were together. He knows my heart lies with you,”

“I wanted to wait but I realized waiting is stupid and if I don’t say it now I don’t-”

“I love you. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since we first met. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it”

You didn’t know if you’d ever seen Wanda smile so big, the sadness lifting slowly from her eyes, that lightness you saw a few days before returning. The lightness caused by you.

“I love you too. I love you so much. I’m sorry I left, you mean everything to me, I never want you to feel less than that”

You glanced down at Wanda’s lips instinctively, she mirrored your movements before she leaned in slowly to close the distance. Just before your lips touched, you pulled back, ever so slightly, she halted immediately glancing back up at you,

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now Wan, I still need some time” You replied, hand placed on her chest.

She nodded and went back to her standing position. You cleared your throat before you stood as well, making your way to her door.

“I’ll see you around”

The next few days passed quite quickly, Wanda and you exchanged glances here and there, some turning into lingering moments, it was always you that had to break the contact.

A week later, at The Avengers Annual Charity Gala, you had a little too much to drink. You stood at the bar, gladly accepting the rounds of free drinks being supplied to you by random charity goers, each time thanking you for what you do. Each new person began to weave into one as your vision blurred, the bar counter became the only thing that stood between you and the floor.

You admit, it was irresponsible but that was quickly excused by the rough past few months you had just endured. So, you continued and tried to ignore the redhead and her companion in the corner of the room. Peter approached the bar and ended your fun once you stumbled and knocked over the barstool, apologizing after doing so, “I think that’s enough for her Natasha''

“Peter! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around him.

“You can barely stand, come on let’s sit down”

Peter led you over the couches, and you plopped down with a sigh and slumped over almost immediately.

“Oh my god, Peter, have you lied down on these couches before? This is wonderful”

“Drink some water please, Tony will lose it if you puke on these”

He shoved water your way, clearly annoyed at your antics. You sent him a glare before accepting the drink, “Let me have some fun, you know I can’t stay drunk that long anyways”

“Yeah, but you are a reckless one, and this gala is an important one,” He said, taking a seat beside you, as he placed his hand on your lap.

He noticed your eyes watching Wanda and Vision, her head thrown back at something he whispered to her.

“You’re insufferable, why don’t you two just get back together?”

“I need time. I love her but what if we just aren’t meant to be?”

“That’s ridiculous. She loves you. She’s been watching over you the whole night,” Peter admits, rolling his eyes at you.

“Take this as a second chance, God knows what tomorrow will bring, in this line of work you need to count your blessings and live while you can. You love her”

You nod and take another swig of the water. Wanda felt your eyes and twisted her head to meet your gaze.

“Hold this” You shoved the water at Peter before standing up.

You took a deep breath, hesitated for a moment before you pushed through the crowd that stood between you and Wanda. Vision stood there, entranced by Wanda as she spoke, but she wasn’t focused on him nor the conversation, as she watched curiously as you stumbled your way through the partygoers.

“Wanda. Vision” You said as you tried to center yourself after the abrupt movements.

Vision noticed your state, “Are you okay Miss Y/N?”, you stared at him doing your best to be intimidating.

“I need to speak to Wanda. Alone.”

He nodded and excused himself. You took Wanda’s hand in your own and led her behind you to the balcony.

“What’s going on with you?” Wanda spoke, once the two of you were out of earshot from the party.

“I’m being an idiot. I did it again, I pushed you away when I just talked to you about how I didn’t want to do that again. Then seeing you with-” You were cut off as Wanda surged forward, capturing your lips, your words dying in your throat.

You hummed into the kiss as Wanda pushed your body up against the wall, a gasp left you, allowing Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth.

You had forgotten how soft her lips were against yours. Her intoxicating smell filled your senses. The sounds of the party began to drown out as your hands gripped her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. One of her hands cupped your cheek, the other reached behind and pulled at the hair resting at the nape of your neck. You groaned loudly as she pulled your head back, exposing your neck to her.

She looked at you for a moment, her irises flashing red before she leaned back down, her teeth sinking into you.

“Fuck, Wanda”

Every worry, every ounce of hesitation, flew right out the window, the familiar feeling of Wanda replacing it all. You were home. She was home. And you were tired of ignoring that.

Wanda was relentless as she moved her way down your body. You clung onto her, worried that without her pinning you against the wall you would surely fall, your knees weak from the attention.

Her hand stopped at the button of your pants, fiddling for a brief moment as her eyes returned to yours. Eyes dark and a smile written across her face,

“What are you smiling at?” You whisper, half-lidded eyes watching her.

“I missed seeing you like this. So desperate for me”

Her accent was thick, lust laced her words. You inhaled sharply, chest heaving, “God-Please fuck me”

The words had barely left your mouth, before she delved back in, taking your mouth into hers while her hands worked your buttons.

One hand around your throat squeezing slightly, the other slipped into your pants, grazing over your soaked underwear.

She let out a moan, muffled by your lips, the vibration shooting right down to your core.

Her fingers ran over your underwear, before they swiftly shoved it out of the way, two fingers sinking deep into you. It was your turn to moan now, violently ripping your mouth from hers as your head slammed back against the wall.

Another moan as the fingers exited fully before they slammed back into you, she continued the movements and curled her fingers before every exit. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Wanda entered you with three fingers, as her thumb came into contact with your clit, circling it slowly as she slowed her movements for a moment, allowing you to get used to the extra digit.

“I’m so close Wan”

“I know detka, you’re doing so well”

Your stomach tightened as she lifted your right leg around her hip, her fingers diving deeper into you, bottoming out.

“Come for me” Wanda whispered against your skin.

You let go. A wave of pleasure flowed through you as you yelled her name into the night. Your body collapsed against the wall, Wanda being the only thing keeping you standing upright.

Her movements slowed down, as she helped you ride your release. Once your breathing slowed, your eyes peeled open at her just as her fingers entered her mouth, moaning loudly as she sucked off your juices. Releasing them with a pop.

You pulled her in for a kiss, tasting yourself on her lips.

The two of you pulled away, “Sorry, you were saying before?”

You let out a laugh, “I don’t remember anymore”

Wanda reached down, buttoning your pants back up, "I want to try again if that's something you'd want as well?"

“I’d like that”

“Good,” she smiled, “Let’s get back to the party”

After that, there was no more shouting. No more tears. No more doubt. A year passed and the two of you moved into your own home, it wasn’t far from the compound, but it was yours.

You were happy. Wanda left but always came back, returning to your side.

You were home.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #elizabeth olsen #angst #marvel #wanda marvel #wanda maximov

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Albatross - Tom Hardy smut

The one where your bond is revealed when you become of age and present, but your mate is your father’s best friend.

Warnings: smut, p in v, oral sex (f) a/b/o dynamics, age difference, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Here it is, folks! One of my favorite fics that I had planned for this kinktober. I love this concept so much that I think I might create a second version of it someday. For now, let me remind you that the prompts were a/b/o dynamics and age difference, but I made sure to keep the reader’s age open to interpretation so no one would feel uncomfortable. You can pretend that the presentation age in this universe is 18, 20, 21 or 25 - or whatever else! It’s really up to you.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I could feel that something was off from the second I woke up. Like the world that I’d woken up to wasn’t the same I’d left the night before. Like suddenly, everything had turned in their axis and I was left scrambling around to understand the change.

Still, I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Call it a gut feeling. As a pack’s Alpha, I knew it was wise to trust mine. But without any clear evidence of something being out of place, all it left me with was this paranoid feeling of uncertainty.

That was, until news broke out of my Beta’s house, also known as my best friend.

“Y/N’s presenting,” he told me, a pained look on his face that I could perfectly understand. It shouldn’t be easy to lose an offspring, to see them grow up and become ready for the taking, but it was part of life, at least for us.

“What’s her status?” I asked, nodding patiently at him as I placed a firm hand over his shoulder, wanting to calm him down. He hesitated for a bit before answering.

“Omega.” I understood his hesitancy. Unmated omegas had a hard time even in packs, especially during heats, since Alphas couldn’t really control their instincts around them. At least, they needed that same connection, which could make the situation more acceptable, as it constituted at least some sort of consensual bond, but the fact of the matter was that omegas needed alphas to get through their heats, or they’d die, and a decision made in need wasn’t much of an actual decision in any sense.

Still, I was their Alpha and I knew I had to calm them down, so I did just so, the only way I could think of.

“I’m sure that when she gets over these first few days of fever, she’ll find her mate, Chris. Try not to worry too much about it. We have a lot of good, strong, eligible alphas in the pack, certainly one of them is her mate.” Of course, one of those alphas was me, but the possibility didn’t even cross my mind. She had just reached maturity, I was over forty and I’d seen her grow up. I was there the day she was born, I’d have noted if we had that sort of... special connection.

Of course, rationally, I knew it was possible. The truth was that the bond only made itself known after both parts present, but I still found it impossible to consider that a girl I had cradled in my arms right after her birth would be my mate.

My friend nodded, thanking me for the support, and I watched him and his wife try to get through the day before they had to go back home and take care of their daughter. I commended myself for a job well done, hoping that now that the surprise had been clarified, that anxious feeling would disappear.

It didn’t. I could barely sleep that night, my senses in overdrive as I moved around in bed. It was like my body thought there was an upcoming battle and it was trying to prepare itself to deal with it. My heart was beating at a level that pumped the adrenaline coursing through my veins even faster, and by the time the sun rose up in the horizon, I had maybe taken a couple of naps. Actual rest had been absolutely impossible.

Still, until the danger that my instincts were catching onto actually appeared, there wasn’t much that I could do. There was, however, a lot that I had to do as pack leader, and so I tried to get on with my day as if nothing was wrong. I couldn’t very well leave my members worried over something that I didn’t even know what it was. So after I ate some breakfast, I left my cabin to get on with my day, starting of course with a visit to my best friend’s house. As my Beta, he would know what I should prioritize that day.

Also, I figured it was the polite thing to do, check on Y/N and see if she was feeling better after her presentation. She was a part of my pack, after all. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was for her family to be gathered in the main hall, along with several other members, and that the moment I went through those doors, the only thing I could see was her.

The smell of oranges and basil hit my nose, inebriating my senses, and I had to hold onto the threshold of the cabin’s door to steady myself. Of course, the lack of balance and the crackling noise the wood made as I broke some of the structure I was holding onto caught everyone’s attention, but no one seemed to understand what was going on with me.

Until Y/N whimpered, her eyes connected with mine as she visibly trembled where she stood. The second that sound escaped her lips I knew everyone had caught on to what was happening, especially her father. But at that very instant I lost every amount of self-control I had managed to gather through my years as a leader and I couldn’t care less about what Chris or anyone else was thinking. All I knew was there was my mate, she was still unmarked, and there were far too many alphas surrounding her.

I made my way over to her so fast I was almost sure I had jumped or ran. In the back of my mind I noticed that people stepped aside to let me make my way to her, but I was too far gone to actually process the information. All that mattered was her. I needed to get her out of here, and soon.

The closer I got to her, the stronger was her scent. I was growling by the time I pulled her to me and threw her over my shoulder. It was an animalistic gesture of ownership, but it was all my mind could come up with at that moment. I just needed to get her out of there.

It was then that a particular smell hit my nose. Alpha. Turning around, I recognized her father through the haze I was currently under. It seemed like he was trying to calm me down, I could see from his lips’ motions that he was saying my name, but I couldn’t care less what he had to say to me at that moment. He was stopping me from claiming my mate. He was a threat to my bonding and I couldn’t have that.

The second I bared my teeth to him, however, he seemed to understand that there was no talking me out of what was happening.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I don’t know if it was Tom’s threat or my pained whimper that stopped my father from interfering, but I was glad to see his retreating form, mainly because it meant that I was one step closer to leaving this room and the god awful smells of random alphas that surrounded me.

It was so putrid that it burned, hurting my insides and making me hold my stomach in an effort to calm down the cramps that were threatening to kill me. A whimpered pain escaped my lips and suddenly Tom’s hands were around me, howling me up and throwing me over one of his shoulders.

The second his hands touched my sweaty skin, I let out a breathy sigh of relief, the close proximity to my Alpha instantly sufficing to calm me down, at least for now. I knew that for me to actually feel okay again, we’d have to complete the bonding.

A shiver went down my spine as the reality of my situation broke a bit of the fever I was currently under. I was about to be claimed by my Alpha, who also happened to be the pack’s Alpha.

Not only that, but I was about to have sex for the first time, and with my father’s best friend, someone I’d known since I was a kid. Someone I used to consider sort of an uncle. At least that awkwardness from my part had disappeared as I approached my teenage years and started to realize just how attractive Tom was. It was no secret that the unmated Alpha was desired by many women - and some men - in the pack, including the teenage girls who’d follow him around with a love sick expression as soon as their hormones kicked in.

The only thing that stopped me from being one of those girls was the embarrassment over the fact that he was a constant presence on our family meals, always teasing me and making me laugh.

That was what I was thinking about when the world turned to its rightful place, Tom having gently lowered me to my feet again. Before I could even rationalize that I should probably snap out of it and fake a smile, his finger was under my chin, tipping my head up to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” A resigned sigh escaped my lips, knowing I would never be able to hide anything from him, not when he was my true mate and my Alpha. I guess I’d have to get used to this.

“It’s just… This is a bit weird, isn’t it?” I managed to explain, my heart pounding as I feared some sort of resentment or anger from him. Besides, I was also still wrestling with the overwhelming mix of emotions and hormones that tried to take over my body, wanting to make sure I’d never leave this cabin unmated.

But that wasn’t Tom. Even if he was scary from afar, and downright threatening and aggressive when needed, he was also gentle and caring towards his pack members, especially when they were vulnerable.

That was definitely my case now. Also, I was his mate - I had to keep reminding myself of that, it still didn’t feel real - and it was ludicrous of me to even consider that he would ever treat me as anything less than a princess. Even before, he’d always reserved that sort of treatment for me, his “little girl”, as he’d often call me.

So he mirrored my sigh, his arm reaching out to hold my hand in his, and I automatically gravitated closer to him, desperate to feel his warmth on my skin, to know that he was close to me. I knew it was biological, but it felt like something so much deeper. It felt like a calling from the soul.

“Yes, it is weird.” I don’t know why, but the second those words left his lips, I felt the tenseness from my body disappear, my muscles relaxing as he held me close to his chest in a very welcomed hug. Something about knowing that he felt the same way as I did calmed me down, made me feel like this was okay, somehow.

Neither of us knew what was going to happen, but we were going to find out together. We had each other now, and hopefully, forever.

Then, a new wave of cramps hit me, making me double over and startling Tom, who released me so I could hold my stomach, but then tried to reach out to me in whatever way he could find, desperate to know what was going on.

“The cramps…” I explained as best as I could, grabbing onto the front of his shirt in an effort to hold myself up. “... They’re starting again.” Once again, Tom’s strong hands were there to rescue me, and soon he had hoisted me up in a bridal position so he could carry me up the stairs, where his bedroom was located.

Tom’s P.O.V.

“Shhh… You’re gonna be okay, princess. You’re gonna get through this.” God, there wasn’t even a bond between us and I was already feeling her pain. I desperately wanted to help her, make it go away. I could feel the need to protect deep in my bones, trying to once again snap my control, but although I knew what was the only thing that could help her, I still needed her to be okay with this first.

“Tom… Tom, please, help me.” I pushed strands of her hair away from her sweaty face, and she whimpered underneath me, sweat already starting to make her skin glisten underneath my fingertips. I ached to lick it, taste her on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t feel like I could do it. Not yet.

“Tell me what you need,” I pressed, cradling her face between my palms. “Tell me how I can help.”

“You,” she breathed out, and I could see the desperation in her beautiful eyes. It hurt my chest, and once again the Alpha inside of me tried to claw its way to the front of my brain. “I need you to kiss me. Please, kiss me.”

She really didn’t have to say twice. I was dying to taste her lips since I saw her that morning. So I leaned over her, bringing her to meet me halfway by my grip on her jaw, and the second that our lips touched, I was a goner.

So soft, she was just so soft. Her mouth danced with mine and it felt like velvet against my chapped lips and the way she moaned when I licked on her bottom lip, prying it open, made a deep, possessive growl escape from deep within my chest.

“You smell so good.” I barely recognized my own voice as it came raspier than usual when I forced ourselves to separate so she could catch her breath. I’d happily suffocate if it meant I could keep on kissing her, but it was my job to make sure she would be okay.

I rubbed my nose over her shoulder, looking for the scent gland on her neck and nuzzling it upon my discovery. God, even if I wasn’t on my rut yet, this felt overwhelming, in the best possible way. But I could feel the need to mate rising from within me, and I couldn’t let it take over yet.

It didn’t seem like Y/N was all that opposed to my carnal needs, however, if the way she climbed on my lap to pull me back to her lips by the back of my neck was anything to go by. I still had it in me to chuckle against her mouth, amused by her eagerness, but that was only before she started to rub herself against me, whimpering desperately as she clawed at my shirt.

“Hot… It’s so hot in here. I need to -” I was still so dumbfounded over her last actions that it didn’t strike me what she was about to do until her dress was already on the floor, and I was staring at the practically naked young woman on my lap.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Heat, it was all I felt besides the overwhelming emptiness that made my pussy clench sporadically around nothing. By that point, I couldn’t think of anything else. The pain had been replaced by this burning desire for the man in front of me, but it was burning so brightly that it was threatening to start hurting me, too.

“Knot…” I managed to say, despite my usual embarrassment to say that word, or the next phrase that so easily fell from my lips. “I need your knot.” Tom suddenly tightened his grip on my waist, and I whimpered from the pressure, but also relished in it. I knew there’d be marks, and just the thought of them made the wetness that was already gathering in my pussy start to drip onto my panties.

“Fuck, I can fuckin’ smell you, princess. You’re fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?” I could only whine in response. Tom took me off his waist, but before I could complain, he laid me down on his bed, crawling over me. “I need to prepare you, little one. I know it’s your first time, and even if you’re in heat right now and I’m your mate, I don’t want you suffering, okay?”

Whereas normally I would have melted at his preoccupation, the idea of his preparation only registered in my brain as a delay from my goal, that was to be filled with his cock, so I wailed while he worked on taking off my bra.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” He complained, the strap escaping from his fingers as he couldn’t seem to have the patience to actually do it properly. “Fuck this shit.” A gasp resonated around the room as he ripped the lace tissue from my chest, but then he was growling and latching himself on one of my nipples, licking and sucking and it made the burn between my legs worsen.

“Please, Alpha, please!” I don’t think he would have been able to separate himself from my breasts if I hadn’t called his presentation. Since it was the first time he was hearing it, though, his head whipped up, and he looked directly at me, seemingly astounded by that simple word.

“Please…” I whispered again, and that snapped him out of his reverie, making him deposit wet kisses all over my stomach as I thrashed around the bed, trying to force him down faster.

“I’ll take care of you, omega.” My panties, the last piece of clothing left on me, met the same fate as my bra, and then I was naked, spread open for Tom’s eyes to explore me. He licked his lips hungrily, noting, “You’re soaked already,” right as he lowered himself to deposit a kiss over my navel.

“J-just one of the reasons w-why y-you don’t have to do this,” I tried to reason with him, knowing that he had the best of intentions, but I needed his freaking knot sooner rather than later.

“Have to? I’m dying to taste your glistening little pussy. It’s calling out to me, angel.” That was the only warning I got before his mouth descended upon me, engulfing my whole pussy like it was nothing more than an open buffet for him to satiate his primal hunger.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I’d never tasted anything like her pussy before. Immediately, I knew that I’d be spending a lot of my following evenings with my head between her gorgeous legs, licking away at her little clit, and fucking her hole with my tongue.

“You taste like fucking candy,” I growled against her cunt, appreciating the downright filthy sounds that my slurping was creating against her wetness. Pushing my tongue as far as it could reach inside of her hole, I noticed how it pulsed against me, and I couldn’t wait to feel it around my cock.

But first… “I have to prepare you,” I said it out loud, to remind both her and me that nothing else was happening before I could get through this task. Normally, I wouldn’t consider it a hazard at all, I loved making a woman cry out with pleasure underneath me - and this was my mate, not just any woman - but I knew she needed to have me inside of her soon, and quite frankly, I didn’t know how much longer I could hold myself back either.

I pushed one finger inside of her as I continued to suck on her clit, immediately pushing another as she was already really wet and her pussy stretched easily to welcome any sort of thickness inside of it, since she was on her heat. Pretty soon I was able to put a third one, and I pulled away from her pussy just enough to watch my digits going in and out of her.

“Now, that’s fucking hot.” Her thighs trembled on each side of me and her moans became more high-pitched, and I understood that she was about to cum, so I lowered myself to lick her again and that was when she tumbled over the edge, crying out my name and my presentation consecutively, her legs wrapping themselves around my head to keep me where I was.

As soon as the waves crashed down and I was able to detach myself from her, though, it became clear that it hadn’t been enough. She needed me, and now I felt like I could finally give what she needed to her.

“You ready, princess?” I made sure of it as I rushed to open my jeans and get my cock out, groaning as the feeling of my fist around it was enough to make it throb. It’d been hard and ready and pulsing ever since I saw my mate.

“Yes, please, please, Alpha!” With another animalistic growl, I slowly pushed myself inside of her, only stopping when I bottomed out. I wanted to wait until she was ready, I knew she’d be much more receptive to the penetration thanks to her state, but I guessed it would still feel uncomfortable on some level.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Fuck me, please, Tom, MOVE!” At that last request, I fully let myself go, allowing the Alpha to take over and claim his mate like he needed it to. I slipped out of her before easily manhandling her on her stomach, barking at her to present for her Alpha, and the second her pretty little pussy was thrusted up against me again, I pushed in and started pounding her.

“Fuck, little one, look at you… Taking your first cock so well. Your mate’s cock, angel. You won’t ever get to know how another feels like, will you? Because you’re mine. I’ve waited so long for a mate, for you, and you’re here now. You’re all mine, ‘mega.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out both at his words and at the pressure I felt as his cock’s head speared against my cervix. It hurt, but it hurt so good, there were literal tears falling from my eyes on the mattress underneath me.

“Yours, I’m all yours,” I managed to gasp, and it spurred him on. I couldn’t even identify when he thrusted out of me, I felt so full and the emptiness was fulfilled and all I wanted was to keep this high forever.

“Tell me that again,” he ordered, making me whine as his hips kept pounding against my ass, the slaps echoing around the room.

“I’m yours, Alpha. Please, don’t stop!”

“‘m not gonna stop, I’m never gonna stop fucking you.” With a howl, I felt his knot pop open inside of me, prompting my release just as he pulled me up to carve his teeth on my neck. He kept slowly grinding against me, like he couldn’t get enough, and it made me laugh but also moan in satisfaction as he started to lick over his mark on my skin.

“Mine,” he whispered afterwards, when he managed to adjust us so we were both spooning on his bed, his knot still keeping us connected and bringing me a comfortable feeling of belonging I’d never felt before.

“Yours,” I repeated, caressing the hand with which he groped one of my breasts. “All yours, Alpha. You’re not alone anymore.”

#tom hardy #tom hardy smut #tom hardy reader #tom hardy imagine #smut #my fics #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy writing #tom hardy writings #tom hardy alpha #alpha au #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy fanfiction

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raddifferent · 3 years ago

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I'm late but I'm in the middle of switching jobs so who cares! Here's Day Two of @rosemarymonth2021: Fantasy! This is Chapter 1; Chapter 2 will double as the Chapter 4 prompt because I want to finish this fic rather than do medieval with no fantasy elements. It's my writing project and I make the rules!!

Anyways, as usual the link will be in the replies and the fic is below the cut!

The esteemed Duchess Lepidopterina Dolorosa of the House Maryam, Baroness of the Misted Isles, Devotee of the Midnight Spiral, and Serene Lady of the Obsidian Blade, first of her name, was having a bit of a shit day. As some of her many fancy titles would suggest, she was an adept swordswoman, and she had been honored to be invited to the wedding of Duke Egbert’s daughter. She was more familiar with Lady Egbert than her betrothed, another Duchess of the Troll kingdom, despite being a troll herself. That was one of the side effects of spending an inordinate amount of time in the borderlands fighting off the blasted undead, as she found herself doing now.

Her traveling party had been journeying through the Cresting Mountains for a fortnight now, having crossed the mountain peaks worn oddly smooth by some ancient ocean and cracked in half on their tectonic ascent. The scraggly pines of its forests were dense in places and opened into large clearings in others, creating an unpredictable landscape full of pockets of zombies. Three of the party had fallen when the undead felled their horses, and she’d lost sight of the other two of her companions when the pack had separated them. Now, she fought the beasts alone.

Kanaya raised a shining hand, turning some of the undead near herself. She had a moment to catch her breath and assess the situation. A crowd of about fifteen undead humans and trolls had her backed against the base of a thick pine. At her feet lay a pile of bodies twenty-strong. Her black leather boots were shiny with rotting ichor, and splashes of guts, grime, and gore adorned her oiled outerwear. The Duchess twirled her twin blades, each a deep, midnight indigo sparkling with obsidian glitter, and also with a little magic. Her hands were covered with snugly-fit leather gloves, but beneath the animal hide Kanaya knew the sigils of the Church of the Midnight Spiral gleamed on the backs of her hands. Indeed, her skin itself glowed from the inside, although that was more of a side effect of being a Blessed Resurrectionist. Kanaya lived thirty five years, and died, and was brought back by The Bright Light in the Dark Sky to walk again some fifty more years. Those outside the Church would call her another, luckier undead. A vampire.

Her groaning, festering foes began to clamber close enough to swipe at her again. Kanaya whirled and sliced, removing limbs and heads as the undead shuffled within her reach. Eight more fell, leaving seven standing. Kanaya tried to wipe a smear of viscera from her face, but she feared the back of her sleeve only made the mess worse. She was breathing heavily. The dampness on her boots and the height of the bodies was beginning to impede her. She needed to reach high ground, and soon.

Just then, a golden light shone from deeper in the woods surrounding this clearing. Kanaya jumped to the side just as a zombie swiped at her head, leaving her in the perfect position to see a glowing arrow pin her assailant’s head to a tree. There must have only been one archer aiding her, as only one or two arrows came at a time, but they still landed more rapidly than Kanaya’s own battle maidens could achieve. In seconds, the battle had ended.

Still breathing heavily, Kanaya attempted to wipe her blades off on her jacket before sheathing them. She began to walk towards where the arrows had been coming from.

Kanaya was met at the edge of the clearing by a figure in a deep purple cloak. Her skin was a deeper, redder brown than Kanaya’s own, set in sharp contrast to their white-blond hair. Kanaya met her startlingly purple eyes, which were bright, intelligent, and a little mischievous. She had a golden lip ring down the center of her mouth, and a thin golden chain as a choker. Her clothing was modest but fine, Kanaya’s keen eye picking out expensive brocade in the shirt.

“To whom do I owe thanks for such gracious assistance?” Kanaya offered when the stranger did not speak.

The stranger spoke in a slightly raspy voice with a short, clipped affect. “Arrows rained upon your general area moments before, and yet you walk towards a potential source of danger? Moments after your own life was at risk? You must either be assured of your skill, or very stupid.”

“I like to think I am the former, although there is always time to prove the latter.”

The stranger smiled. “You think it is inevitable you will be proven unintelligent?”

“I find it imprudent to assume one will never make a mistake.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. “Ah, a pragmatist. We may get along yet.”

Kanaya pursed her lips. “I find I get along with people much better if we have something to call each other by.”

“You would still like my name, then.” It wasn’t a question. They seemed to be hesitating. “I suppose you can call me Briar,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m just a traveler in these woods. There’s nothing I have to claim that involves fanfare.”

Politely, Kanaya did not mention the clearly magical bow, or the fine clothing. “I do have a bit of a fancy title, but I think it best not to rattle off the entire thing. Suffice it to say that you can call me Kanaya.” Hopefully, her rescuer would be equally polite about her weaponry and dress.

“May I ask where you’re headed? I wouldn’t mind some company, and you certainly seem like you need the assistance.” The last was delivered with a smirk, which Kanaya bristled a little at.

“I have been traveling with several others, thank you; we just found ourselves separated after that large group of undead descended onto us. I had almost dispatched all of them when you arrived.” She made a sweeping gesture back towards the not-immodest pile of re-deceased zombies surrounding the tree she had been up against.

Briar smirked harder. “So my assistance is not desired?”

“No, that is not-” Kanaya broke off her objection with a huff as Briar began to laugh. “I would, actually, quite like your help locating my companions. However, I would like to know why you would want to help me. You seem to be taking great pleasure in needling me about needing it.”

The other traveler sobered slightly. “I just know what it’s like to be traveling alone, and the drudgery of not having someone to talk to, no stories to tell around the fire or on the road. It can be better to group up, even temporarily, just to kill the boredom.”

“Did you lose a companion recently as well?” Kanaya blurted.

Briar raised a thin eyebrow. “Not recently, as it were. But yes, I have previously parted ways with those whom I enjoyed sharing a story or three.”

“I would be happy to share tales with you, stranger. My companions would likely head towards the closest inn if they were sure they were separated from me, as that was our next destination. Does that align with your path?”

The other woman smiled. “That it does. When last I consulted my map, the next inn was a half-day’s walk up the road. Shall we?”

As they walked up the road, dappled light gently touched the faces of both travelers. Briar hummed an aimless tune, kicking up dead, brown leaves. They traveled in silence for quite some time, neither quite willing to speak up after such an abrupt introduction. About an hour into the walk, Kanaya opened her mouth and was about to begin some sort of small talk about the weather when they reached the top of a hill. Below them, the trees opened up to reveal a path curving down and around a small, ruined stone structure. What had previously been a large castle town now lay in disarray, the abbey wall crumbling and holding nothing at bay. The peasant houses must have been constructed of wood, as all but their foundations had long rotted away. All that remained was a small stone castle with a single, thin spire reaching high into the sky. Small was relative; the property would have held a baron comfortably in his keep with acres of holdings, but from the vantage point it felt like a child’s plaything.

“Well, that certainly looks interesting.” Briar broke the silence with a chuckle.

Kanaya did have to agree. Ruins such as this one, so deep in the woods, were possibly undisturbed, and might have strange and magical treasures hidden within. At the very least, there would be a few monsters to kill, and get some of her frustrations out. “We should explore it. There is still light in the sky.”

Briar’s smile faded slightly. “You know, I grew up not too far from here. When I was a little girl, we were told a tale in whispers. It was the sort of fairy tale that adults would laugh off, but forbid you from speaking about ever again. Would you like to hear it?”

“Right now?” Kanaya asked, the question coming out more incredulously than she intended. “While we’re stopped in the middle of the road?”

The smile was back. “I can walk and weave words, miss.”

“Well then, far be it from me than to stop you.”

“A long, long time ago, a young king killed what he thought was the last dragon in his lands. His fields were free from fiery terror, and his people lived prosperously for three decades. One day, a winged shadow drew over the land again, smaller than the scourge that had last plagued the land, but still enough to wreak havoc. One dragon spawn had survived, and had lived long enough to exact its revenge.”

Briar stopped to hop over a river, holding out an arm to steady Kanaya as she crossed. Her hands were warm, heat thrumming through Kanaya’s thick gear to her palm where she clasped Briar’s. She let go, and they continued. Kanaya’s hand felt cold.

“The dragon landed on the top of the castle of the now-middle-aged king, and told the king that he would leave the lands be, if only the king would offer his daughter. One life in exchange for the kingdom’s safety.”

Kanaya laughed grimly. “I suppose it was an easy deal to make with the dragon staring him down.”

“I suppose it was,” Briar replied. “He brought his daughter to be scooped up in the dragon’s claws and carried away. The kingdom was quiet and safe for another thirty years, until the king’s son had borne an heir and several daughters, and a new ruler was crowned. The dragon once again flew across the land, and once again sat atop the tower and demanded a companion. Every three decades, the dragon would return, larger than before, and more imposing.”

“And how long ago was the last time the dragon came to the land?” Kanaya asked, playing along.

“Well, that’s just the thing.” Briar held a branch up so Kanaya could pass under it. “The dragon hasn’t been sighted in over fifty years.”

“Do you know why?”

The first crumbling pieces of stone that formerly lined the road to the castle began to rise up from the sides of the road. “No one knows. Some of the bravest in our village once described traveling deep into the woods and seeing a castle with a tall tower, a sleeping monster curled around the top.”

Kanaya squinted ahead, trying to spot the castle. “Did you put much stock in their tales?”

“When I was younger? Not really. Now? Also no, not really. I think if a dragon had a castle, he’d sleep inside of it, not on top.”

Involuntarily, Kanaya burst out laughing. “That’s your justification for why they’re wrong? Not that your country doesn’t have a history of missing princesses, or that you happened to live close enough to the dragon’s castle to find it, but not so close that it bothers you?”

Briar put her hands on her hips. “Would you sleep out in the rain and the cold if you had the option not to?”

“I make a habit not to when I have the choice,” Kanaya ceded.

“Then you admit there’s some logic to what I say,” Briar smirked felinely.

Kanaya rolled her eyes, smiling. “Begrudgingly. At any rate, there was no dragon on that tower when we saw it from above.”

“No,” Briar said. “There wasn’t.”

#rosemarymonth2021 #rosemary #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #homestuck #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck fic #lesbian #lesbian fic #rosemary month #bucky writes

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mbti-notes · 4 years ago

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Hi MBTI. Not type related but I still want to ask because of your social insight. What does respect mean to you? I’ve met people who preach feminism but do not communicate honestly and clearly with girls they sleep around with (eg ghosting), which makes me think that feminism is just political theory, but in practice it means to truly respect other people regardless of their gender (ie being honest, clear and able to put ones anxieties/insecurities aside momentarily to ensure the well-being of

[con't: the other person). I asked myself exactly what respect entails, it’s a concept Ive taken for granted and thought I knew but realized I’ve never actually read/heard someone really putting into words. I’ve been reading online and a lot of people seem to muddle it with the word “admiration” and I think I disagree because I think respect is more about being open to sharing common ground and not placing someone above or below you, as admiration could cause. To me respect and equality are more similar, and that’s how I linked it to feminism. How would you define respect? And what do you think about this? Thank you and all the best!<3 ]

You're mixing several issues together, which makes your question too complicated. Respect and making moral judgments are big enough topics without adding gender into the mix.

I remember once, a long time ago, I was grappling with a difficult moral dilemma. I approached a few people to talk about it. One person judged me as "incompetent" because the matter seemed quite easy in their mind. One person judged me as "weak" because I wasn't willing to just do what I wanted to do. One person judged me as "fake" because they thought I was only worried about appearing like a moral person in the eyes of others. One person judged me as "selfish" because I wasn't willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. One person judged me as "overthinking" the matter because I was worried about more than just myself.

Of course, not being assholes, their judgments came out as veiled implications rather than direct criticisms. However, this example reveals some truth: People's moral judgments are often quite egocentric, a mere reflection of their own subjective ego conflicts about what it means to be a "good" or "bad" person. Whichever way they choose to conceptualize morality is what they expect of others (i.e. projection).

We all have to make moral judgments and navigate difficult moral situations. One thing that significantly influences people's ability to make good moral decisions is their level of ego development, you can read more about it in the Type Dev Guide. Suffice it to ask: Is your conception of morality more rule-based (i.e. about the power to judge) or more virtue-based (i.e. about the wisdom to do right)?

The more egocentric someone is, the more invested they are in maintaining a positive self-image, and the more sensitive they are to any data that would threaten their ego and suggest that they are a "bad" person. Egocentric people are more likely to use a rule-based approach to morality because its starkness and simplicity allow for easy detection and deflection of ego threats. If morality is a simple matter of knowing the rules of right and wrong, then moral judgments are a simple matter of whether people followed the rules.

For example, society says that you should work hard in school, get a good job, earn money, and your reward is that you are able to afford your life. Therefore, if you didn't succeed in school, you didn't get a good job, you can't earn much money, you can't afford the things you need, then there is something "wrong" with you. In short, you failed to follow the rules, so you deserve to be punished with the negative consequence of poverty. Rule-based morality is "safe" for the ego because there's no ambiguity that makes you doubt your moral judgment, and hence no reason to doubt your own moral worth.

People often talk about whether someone "deserves" respect, often because they want to make an argument that someone doesn't deserve respect for something bad they did. The more "admirable" someone is, the more respect they deserve? I will respect this person because they are "nice"? I will not extend respect to that person because they are "mean"?

If you approach respect with these "rules", you essentially get to play god. You get to sit on a high horse and judge people as worthy or unworthy. If you obey the rules of being an "admirable" person, you are called a "good" person, so you get rewarded with respect; whereas if you disobey the rules, you are a "bad" person, so you get punished with less respect or even disrespect. This way of thinking is rather childish. Notice how kids argue that they don't have to follow the rules when they see someone else breaking the rules. Their idea of morality boils down to whether they themselves win or lose.

Children, understandably, think in stark terms of reward and punishment because they are only starting to learn what it means to be an "acceptable" member of society. They only see what's on the surface because they aren't yet capable of more sophisticated moral reasoning. When an adult hasn't learned more sophisticated moral reasoning, they continue with the superficial idea of reward and punishment, only they take it further. Now that they are "adult" by society's superficial age standard, they possess the social status and thus the social power to dole out rewards and punishments to anyone "beneath" them in status. In essence, "I was subject to the rules as a child, and now I get to enforce the rules as an adult."

Adding gender into the mix, a lot of people abide by "rules" that they learned in childhood about what a "man" is, what a "woman" is, how they are different, and how people "should" behave according to their gender. Men, as a social group, are taught to obey one set of rules, while women, as a social group, are taught to obey another set of rules. This social conditioning shows up in people's implicit gender biases as well as outright gender discrimination.

If men, as a group, possess the majority of social power and privilege, they become the default reference point for everyone. Social and political decisions are predominantly made from their point of view, in accordance with their needs and desires, and this encourages them to treat women as objects that are only worthy of respect as long as they prop up masculine power. Women, as a group, are taught to see the world through the masculine perspective and believe that masculinity is superior to femininity, so they must behave submissively and serve their purpose to men.

As an individual man, if you follow the rules and elevate masculinity over femininity, you get rewarded with status and power. If you don't follow the rules, you get punished with lower status and being branded as undesirable (not a "real" man). As a woman, if you follow the rules and elevate masculinity over femininity, you get rewarded with some privilege and favors, but always safely within the bounds of masculine dominance. If you don't follow the rules, you get cruelly shamed into compliance and even ostracized if you are deemed a lost cause (not a "real" woman).

It is very difficult for individuals to counter social conditioning because so much of the learning happens unconsciously. It's a steep uphill battle for people to develop more self-awareness about the "rules" they have been taught to follow. And even when one becomes aware of having implicit biases or prejudices, it's not easy to rise above them. It takes a lot of conscious effort to go against lessons that were ingrained into your psyche since infancy. Furthermore, when you're a member of the social group that enjoys more power and privilege, there's very little incentive for you to change, in fact, you have much more incentive to preserve the status quo, which is why inequality is so difficult to remedy.

The unconscious nature of bias and prejudice is why ego development is very important. When you reach higher levels of ego development, your self-awareness grows, and that allows you to gradually shift from a simplistic rule-based morality to a more complex virtue-based morality which recognizes that moral issues aren't always black-and-white. Virtue-based morality is about what's actually in people's hearts and the role that moral conscience plays in decision making.

Taking the example from above: WHY did the person fail in school? Was it simply because they didn't follow the rules and work as hard as they should have? Or was it due to factors that were beyond their control, such as: an untreated learning disability, lack of school funding due to living in a poor area, a dysfunctional family situation that interfered with their learning process, etc?

Rule-based morality is about compliance and shaming people into the appearance of compliance. Virtue-based morality is about understanding and addressing the root causes of moral failing. To be capable of more complex moral reasoning is to dig deeper and ask more questions to get to the truth, which means that morality is no longer a simple matter. The gray areas start to appear, you start to see exceptions to the rule, and you become more empathetic because you're looking into people's hearts and seeing how they have suffered unfairly. You no longer stereotype and generalize about people but treat everyone as a unique individual with unique circumstances to take into account. Egocentric people don't want this level of moral responsibility because then they'd have to always question themselves about whether they are truly doing the right thing, and they would constantly have to confront the many ways they fall short in their morality.

When you truly see the harm of judging people by superficial appearances, you would never want to be a victim of it, and that helps you understand that you shouldn't be a perpetrator of it, either. When you truly see the harm of treating people unfairly based on gender, you would never want to be a victim of it, and that helps you understand that you shouldn't be a perpetrator of it, either. When you're able to empathize with people who were treated unfairly or victimized by unjust rules, you can't help but want to make things fairer for everyone (yes, equality). Virtue-based morality is about moral conscience in terms of what kind of person you hope to be, what kind of influence you want to have, what kind of society you want to live in, and whether you are actually a virtuous person in your heart rather than just appearing like one in public. When you show respect to people, it's not because they "deserve" it, it's because you know that you being respectful to everyone is the first step in helping to create a society that is more respectful to everyone.

#morality #moral development #moral philosophy #respect #virtue #rules #gender #egocentrism #empathy #ask

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dwellordream · 4 years ago

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“…Both Vergil and Livy begin by putting down Homeric roots and anchoring their stories in the Trojan War. That makes a good deal of sense from a mythic perspective: the Iliad and the Odyssey were the most illustrious legends of the Hellenic world and so it made sense for the Romans, looking to claim a place in the Mediterranean, to make that claim through connection to this most illustrious of tales… And so both Vergil and Livy begin their story with Aeneas and his plucky band of Trojan refugees, fleeing the fall of Troy (though interesting, while Vergil tells the tale as a harrowing escape, Livy politely suggests that perhaps Homer’s Achaeans let Aeneas go, Liv. 1.1).

Aeneas (son of Aphrodite/Venus and a mortal man, Anchises) does appear, by the by, in the Iliad, though he isn’t a particularly notable or impressive hero (naturally Vergil will embroider Aeneas until he is presented as the equal of an Achilles or Odysseus because…well, wouldn’t you?). The Aeneid follows (with the aid of a major flashback) Aeneas as he shepherds his surviving Trojans from Troy to their prophesied new homeland in Italy (with a minor stopover in Carthage) and then covers also the war that breaks out between Aeneas’ Trojans and the local inhabitants (the Latins) when he arrives. Vergil cuts off at the climactic moment of the war (which in turn presents Aeneas as rather morally grey, a feature that is also present, as we’ll see, in Livy’s retelling of Rome’s legends), but Livy provides the denouement.

After a period of conflict (Livy presents two different versions of the exact sequence), Aeneas ends up married to Lavinia, the daughter of Latinus, king of the Latins (Livy calls them the Aborigines – lit, ‘the native inhabitants,’ Vergil the Latins; in both cases Latinus is their king) and the Trojan exiles and Latinus’ people form a single community at Lavinium, which in turn founds a colony at Alba Longa, both in Latium (the region of Italy in which Rome is, although note we haven’t founded Rome yet).

We then fast forward a few generations. Rhea Silvia, a priestess of Vesta at Alba Longa gives birth to twins, Romulus and Remus by (Livy expresses some doubt) the god Mars. The twins are exposed (for complicated royal-family-drama reasons we needn’t get into) and rescued by either a she-wolf or a woman of ill-repute (Livy isn’t sure which on account of Latin lupa having both meanings and clearly both legends existed, Liv. 1.4) and raised among shepherds in the hills of northern Latium. More politics ensues, Romulus and Remus, having grown to adulthood, right some wrongs in their home city of Alba Longa and set out to found their own city.

At which point Romulus promptly gets into a fight with and murders Remus over who is going to be in charge (this sort of intense moral ambiguity where the venerated legendary founder figures are also quick to violence and deeply flawed is also a feature of the Aeneid and can be read either as a commentary on Augustus or as some lingering Roman discomfort with their own recent history of civil wars running from 88 to 31 BC; we are not the first people in history to have very mixed feelings about how well people in our country’s past lived up to our ideals).

Crucially, Romulus forms his new settlement (prior to the fratricide) out of – as Livy has it – “the excess multitudes of the Albans and Latins, to which were added the shepherds” (Liv. 1.6.3). After this, desiring to increase the population of the city, Romulus sets a place of refuge in the city so that “a crowd of people from neighboring places, altogether without distinction, free and slave, fled there eager for new things” (Liv. 1.8.6) and were incorporated into Romulus’ growing city. Livy approves of this, by the by, declaring it the first step towards rising greatness.

Romulus quickly has another problem because all of these new settlers were men, so he concocts a plot to carry off all of the unmarried women of the neighboring people, the Sabines – an Umbrian people (we’ll come back to this, for now we’ll note they are ethnically and linguistically distinct from the Latins) – who lived in the hills north of Rome under the guise of a religious ceremony (Liv. 1.9-13). At a festival where the Sabines had been lured to under false pretenses, the Romans abduct and forcibly marry the Sabine women, while using hidden weapons to chase away their families (I should note Livy goes to some length to assure the reader that the captured maidens were subsequently persuaded to marry their Roman captors, rather than forced (Liv. 1.9.14-16), though what choice he imagines the unarmed, captive women to have had is left for the reader to wonder at in vain; in any event, we need not share Livy’s judgement or his effort at patriotic euphemism and may simply note that bride-capture is a form of rape).

The Sabines naturally go to war over this but (according to Livy) a peace is mediated by the captured women (according to Livy, unwilling to see their new husbands and old fathers kill each other) and the two communities instead merge on equal terms. In the midst of all of this, Livy does have Romulus set down a set of common customs for his people, which he thinks to have been mostly Etruscan (Liv. 1.8.3), the Etruscans being the people inhabiting Etruria (modern Tuscany) the region directly north of Rome (Rome sits, in essence, on the dividing line between Latium to the South and Etruria to the North).

Now we want to note two things here from this high-speed trip through the first few chapters of Livy. First is the deep ambivalence towards Roman violence here. Livy presents Rome as a city founded on fratricide, conquest, rape and sacrilege. Livy occasionally attempts to soften the impact of these legends (particular with the Sabines), but only so far. This isn’t really the place to unpack of all of that but suffice to say that I think that Livy’s willingness to open his history of Rome – practically an official history of Rome – so darkly speaks to a literary project still attempting to come to grips with the stunning civil violence which had gripped Rome for Livy’s entire adult life and had, as he wrote, only recently ended. And one day we also ought to come back and do a deeper look at how women function in Livy’s legends and histories (Livy’s account becomes much more properly historical as he gets closer to his own time); women, mostly Roman women, suffering (often sexual) violence so that in their sacrifice the Roman state might be enhanced is a repeated motif in Livy (e.g. Lucretia, Verginia).

But more directly to our topic today, I want to note at this point exactly the sort of society Livy is imagining the earliest Rome, under its first king Romulus, in particular that it consists of a lot of different peoples and heritages. We’ll come back to exactly who all of these peoples are (historically speaking) in a moment. But Livy and Vergil first create a Trojan-Latin fusion community, which produces both Romulus and Remus and their initial core of settlers (mixed in with other, apparently purely Latin communities), who then gather up shepherds from all around, and then invite literally anyone from nearby communities to join them (which must include Etruscan communities to the north as well as Umbrians and Falisci of various sorts from the hills) and then finally fuses that community with the Sabines (an Umbrian people).

So we have our very first Romans, as the first Senate is being set up (1.8.7) and the very first spolia opima – the prize for when one commander defeats his opposite number in single combat – being won (1.10.7) and the very first temple being founded in the city (1.10.7). And those very first Romans, as Livy imagines them, are not autochthonous (that is, the original inhabitants of the place they live), nor ethnically homogeneous, but rather a Trojan-Aborigines-Latin-Faliscian-Umbrian-Etruscan-Sabine fusion community. For Livy, diversity – ethnic, linguistic, religious – defines Rome, from its very first days.”

- Bret Devereaux, “The Queen’s Latin or Who Were the Romans? Part I: Beginnings and Legends.”

#roman #ancient #history #the aeneid #vergil #livy #bret devereaux #who were the romans

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nautiscarader · 3 years ago

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For day 7, how about Claudia and Callum "putting on a show" for Rayla? With Rayla occasionally giving suggestions or encouragement?

(Ao3)

Rayla confidently entered the chambers that until last year belonged just to Callum, and put a glass of moonberry wine on the night drawers. She couldn't obviously call it "hers", as no one so far has managed to invent bed with three sides, and that's how many people occupied this room...

Feeling refreshed after long bath, after an even longer day, she didn't even initially noticed lack of Callum and Claudia. The two should have been there, working on either a new piece of legislation, a spell, or just... warming up.

But fortunately, Rayla didn't have to last long. The other door opened, and her human lovers welcomed her with mischievous smiles drawing on their faces.

The Moonshadow Elf gently tugged her see-through nightgown and spread herself in the middle of the bed, wondering what the two have come up with. Though it's been more than a week, she still felt slightly sore from not one, but two magical cocks in her body...

- So, do you remember that play we went to last week? - Callum asked - Ugh - Rayla threw her head back - Dreadful. How come yer people say it's "the best love story"? Both of them die because of silly misunderstanding! I wish I could just shout at them... - Precisely! - Claudia interjected - We've been thinking the same thing. So...

The two stood in front of their bed, looking at her, and bowed courtly.

- Tonight we will be your actors. - And we will do what you command...

Rayla's lips curled and with another sip of wine, she sat up and got comfortable against her pillows.

- Okay... how about we fix that love story, eh? - she smiled - Kiss.

Claudia and Callum at once proceeded to enact her wish. Callum's hands closed around her waist, but hers were quicker to cup his cheeks, and the fact that she was taller than him made her lead the two into a heated union of their lips.

Rayla let out a satisfying moan, as her hand slipped between her legs, and watched as the two humans tangle their limbs, wishing for a more horizontal space...

- Push him against the wall!

Claudia didn't have to hear that order twice. Callum's eyes opened wide for a moment while his girlfriend pushed him forward, eager to undo his clothes. But she had to wait for Rayla's orders, and that knowledge alone made the moment so much more heated...

- Grab her ass!

It was time for Claudia to let out a yelp, as Callum's hands grabbed her buttcheeks, kneading them with each kiss the two exchanged in the heated battle against the wall.

- Okay, tell him it's yer first time! - Callum... - Claudia spoke in a would-be-innocent voice - I've never been with a man... - That's-that's fine... - he looked at Rayla, who encouraged him with a gesture of her hand - It's my first time too!

With another sip of wine, Rayla tapped the empty space in front of her.

- Come on, bring her here!

Claudia once more let out a surprising cry, when Callum's arms closed around and underneath her, and he pretended to carry her all the way to the bed in front of them.

Rayla gave the two a pillow, giving Claudia's head something to rest on, while she encouraged her to keep her legs spread.

- Alright, ye two, get yer clothes off!

She watched as their hands worked on several layers of their clothing, until she saw Claudia's lingerie from underneath her black robe, and the gentle , faint traces of muscles on Callum's chest.

- Kiss... kiss him.

Claudia followed, covering his slim physique with kisses, leaving traces of her lipstick, while the younger mage reached to unhook her bra.

- Ah, ah, no magic there!

Callum shot her with an icy stare, and stopped his fingers from producing air that usually helped him undo Claudia's lingerie. Rayla watched him fumble with it, as he moaned, while Claudia wandered lower and lower, her hands already revealing her desires.

- Oh, ye better swallow him whole. - Gazooks! Thine manhood is indeed enormous! - Claudia faked her surprise, mimicking the actress' accent and the writing style, already centuries old.

Claudia looked up and to the side, seeing utter confusion and consternation on Rayla and Callum's faces.

- Okay, Callum, ye know how to punish her for that.

Next thing she knew, Claudia's face was filled with Callum's musk, as the mage grabbed her head and unceremoniously shoved her onto his cock, bobbing her up and down.

From her perspective, Rayla could see droplets of Claudia's liquid wanton forming between her thighs, and her fingers producing more with each minute his cock spent between her lips.

Their joined moaning brought some out her too, as she mashed her four fingers against her, equally soaked lips, listening for the one change in volume she wanted to hear the most.

And as Claudia inevitably took charge, coiling her tongue around his length, and caressing his testicles, Callum's voice cracked, like it did a dozen of times.

- C-Claudia! - Make her swallow it! - Rayla yelled, as Callum's grip in her hair tightened

A moment later, she watched as Claudia's body jerked, and heard her gulp when first batch of Callum's seed filled her mouth. Her eyes widened, but the dark mage accepted the challenge, swallowing one creamy glob after another, while her mind slowly became bliss from the overwhelming amount of scent and smell...

Finally, Callum pulled her by her hair and let Claudia take a breath, just in turn for him to push her to her back.

- Yeah, use yer lips... - Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged, give me my sin again... - Callum quoted the play, much to Claudia's and Rayla's surprise. - Okay, yer definitely better than this. - Rayla added - Put that mouth to use.

Claudia let out a yelp, when his tongue slipped effortlessly inside her tight pussy, lapping at the liquid that coated her pussy, generating squishy noises that only made Rayla wish she was between the two. But her fingers must have sufficed for now, as she definitely knew what the last act of the play would contain.

She watched as Claudia's legs thrashed around Callum's head, while her fingers dug into his messy hair. With each moan of hers, she pushed him against her, as if she wanted to make him slide deeper, until her back arched, and the mage yelled her lover's name, coating his mouth with extra shiny layer of her juices she soon tasted with her own lips.

Meanwhile, Rayla's body contorted as well, as the moonshado elf fingered herself furiously.

- Claudia... - he coiled his arms around her naked body - Did my heart love till now? Forswear it- - C-come on, just fuck her!

Rayla cried, feeling her own oncoming orgasm, delayed by Callum's sudden urge to get into character.

- As you wish, my fair lady.

And with that, Claudia's legs were swung onto his shoulders, while the younger mage slipped inside her with a quick and sudden push, getting moans from both Claudia and Rayla. her bigger thighs closed around his back, and so did her arms, giving Rayla perfect view of his hips, performing erratic, fast thrusts.

He was already balls-deep inside her, and yet, with each one, he seemed to be diving deeper into Claudia, pushing her into the soft royal bedding that responded to his frantic moves.

At the same time, Rayla imagined Callum doing it to her, then, with another blink of an eye, Claudia in his place, and finally, both of them tending to her in the most aggressive of ways, and she felt the first spark of pleasure in her loins...

- Claudia! - Callum gasped, as he heard their lecherous voices - I'm-I'm gonna- - Inside!

Callum heard Rayla's voice, between her own moans, as she almost succumbed to her own climax.

- Cum inside her, Callum! That's-that's the whole point of the play! To tie yer two families together...

Rayla watched as Callum's eyes widened for a moment, before turning to Claudia, receiving the same lustful gaze.

- You've heard her... Do it, Callum...!

At that proclamation, Callum's body arched and his hips thrust spastically, as first batch of his seed deep into Claudia's pussy, listening to both her moans, as well as high-pitched babbling of Rayla, whose body began shaking with her climax that overtook her.

Claudia's lips met his, and her legs tightened around his ass, just in case Callum wanted to deny their mistress' orders to seed her. Watching them engage in this deeply animalistic ritual, as Callum's testicles squirmed with each dose of his royal sperm, Rayla reached her peak and the two got a few droplets of her come that sprayed the bed, just in time for their hastened climaxes to subside.

With her pussy full of Callum's potent warmth, Claudia softened her grip, allowing her prince to slip out, perhaps just to watch how much Rayla's taunts made him cum. And the perpetrator herself rolled to her side to watch Callum's cream ooze out of Claudia's twitching pussy in a small avalanche of love.

- Thank you, that was... amazing performance... - Rayla clapped gently, and her two actors bowed, or as much as they could, given their positions.

But t wasn't enough for her. Though her legs were weak, the elven assassin proved her speed by rushing between Claudia's tights to sample a bit of it, and then lick the rest of Callum's cock, finally choosing to become part of their show. She kissed Claudia first, sharing some of Callum's seed, and then with the prince himself.

The two women laughed when he squinted, tasting himself on her lips.

- Oh, sure yer don't like it, but we are supposed to... - I certainly like it. - Claudia countered, licking her finger - You can almost taste how potent he is... - Uh, speaking of, uh, it... - Callum asked, somewhat sheepishly - That-that last bit was all for show, right?

He looked at Claudia, hoping to receive clear answer, but she only smiled in return, turning her head towards Rayla.

- Well, it's a good thing I drank my potion before the show, or my fate would be in your hands... - Yer mean his balls. - Rayla joked, sipping her wine - Callum wouldn't have the will to pull out... - Hey, come on! I-I can do it if I realise I'd have to...

But the two burst into laughter, before consoling him with another batch of kisses that quickly were returned with equal strength.

- The question is, who's gonna be next? - Rayla asked, coiling between the two - Are me and Callum gonna give ye a show, or will he watch us doing something special just for him? - I think the latter! - Claudia replied, and Callum's eyes sparkled

Her eyes met with Rayla's and soft, sly smirk appeared on their faces in shared understanding. Callum didn't know that unlike Rayla, he was gonna have his hands restrained...

#raydium #Callum/Claudia/Rayla #lemon #smutember #day 7 #aged-up characters and all that #nautiscaraderfics #smutember 2021 #smutember2021

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bittercoldbrew · 4 years ago

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Well, geeze, this got outta hand... I blame @silverwolf319 for being so kind and encouraging and joining me in the little spoon!Ezra club even though he’s technically a big spoon in this one, but I think it still qualifies. Thank you, darling 💕

In theory this is a follow-up to my earlier Ezra/OC oneshot (which is, in theory, a follow-up to my finished story, To Build Something New), but I think they can be read independently, or in any order you please. Here we’ve got about 5k words of just the softest fluff I think I’ve ever written, Cee and Ezra and his unnamed partner with she/her pronouns, building a blanket fort together when the rain keeps them all up at night. This briefly gets a teensy bit saucier than the other one did, so I’m asking to keep this one 18+ only, please and thanks, friends. No other warnings, just an absurd amount of established relationship sweetness here. Enjoy!

Most nights, she loves the skylight above their bed, loves the view of the vast and glorious expanse of space beyond the meager atmosphere of this dwarf planet that has become so dear to her—loves, too, the occasional brush of willowy branches against the glass from the big tree outside, when the wind is up. After so very many years spent floating through the galaxy aboard slingbacks and freighters, she needs this glimpse of the heavens just as much as she needs the reminder of the solid ground beneath her feet. Even now, more than two years spent as a resident of Aphelia, she still has horrid dreams of hull breaches and micrometeoroids and hairline cracks, and often it helps to wake and watch for lazy clouds drifting by or those familiar leaves or the rare nightbird, proof that there is a sky here, hugging her close to the crust of the planet she’s made her own and promising to never let her be sucked out into the void.

Tonight, however, and the storm it has brought, offer far more proof than she would ever need. The wind howls; branches thrash and snap into the air; rain pelts harsh rhythms against the glass; and the sky is so full up with clouds that she can’t find a single soothing glimmer of any stars beyond.

The man in bed beside her, with his steady breaths and radiant warmth, the gentle weight of his arm across her belly, should be more than comfort enough. Ezra is not often an easy sleeper, but he can be a deep one under the right circumstances, and if she were a sensible woman she'd cuddle up against his chest and let the sweet thrumming of his tender heart lull her back to sleep.

She puts on a good show, she'll admit; but she is not often as sensible as people seem to believe.

Feeling guilty, yet restless, she creeps out from under his loose hold and to the edge of the bed. Light flashes overhead, followed closely by a deep groan of thunder, and she freezes halfway to her feet and glances over her shoulder to make sure it hasn’t woken him. But no, his eyes are still closed, those pretty dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, though a slight frown now creases his brow. He buries his face deeper into the pillow with a soft grumble, and she releases her held breath and stands and creeps around the bed and out into the hall—taking one of the spare blankets with her, of course.

She has some vague thoughts of decaffeinated tea and chocolate bars, maybe a dip into that carton of ripe berries in the refrigeration unit if Ezra hasn’t eaten them all by now, but her weary feet can’t seem to carry her that long way to the kitchen and she all but collapses onto the couch, instead. Ridiculous, she thinks, that she can feel this exhausted and this wired simultaneously. There’s been a stomach bug getting passed around at work, one she’s somehow managed to dodge thus far—both a blessing and a curse, because it’s meant that she’s been picking up extra shifts left and right. Tomorrow—technically today, she confirms after a quick glance at the time—is supposed to be her first day off in a tenday and a half, and she’s been so looking forward to finally having time to unwind and spend with her little family. Given the way her pulse keeps jumping with every crash of lightning and rattle of windows, she’s going to spend the day catching up on lost sleep, instead.

Cursing herself, her anxiety, and the weather—not necessarily in that order—she curls up against the arm of the couch and tucks the blanket under her chin, contents herself to a night spent merely hoping for sleep to come.

The storm is...beautiful, she has to admit, viewed through the front room’s wide windows. Dark as it is, there’s enough sheet lightning to paint the sky in grayish purples and greens, and the ribbons of rain seem to dance in the wind. They do have a DTV in here, but the signal isn’t great even on the clearest of days, and the serials streaming in the overnight public blocks are nothing but trash. The storm, for all its insolence, is likely to be far more entertaining.

She loses track of how long she sits there, knees pulled up to her chest, head resting against the back of the couch, until she hears the low rasp of her name and turns to find Ezra shuffling into the room. His hair is mussed, his chest bare, patched and tattered sleep pants riding tantalizingly low on lean hips; but his eyes are only half-open, hand and attention occupied as he hitches his prosthesis up over the liner that insulates his limb remnant, and seals it into place. There’s a soft hiss, and then a gentle whirr as the delicate machinery twitches synthetic finger and wrist and elbow joints, cycling through its startup flexibility test.

While it’s busy, Ezra rests his left arm on the back of the couch, and leans over to place a slow and sleepy kiss to her lips. “Hey, you,” he sighs.

“Hey, you,” she answers, mouth spreading up into a smile as she lifts a hand to smooth along his jaw. “I’m sorry; did I wake you?”

“Nah, the storm did,” he tells her, and though he’s not the sort of man to lie to her, she’s not entirely sure she believes him. “Mind if I sit with you a while?”

“I’d love that.” Kevva only knows why they’re whispering, with the storm crashing so loudly around them, but it feels right, here in the dark—especially when he comes around and settles in close beside her. She unwinds the blanket and drapes it over them both, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his warmth. He smells a bit like derma-cream, but she’s grown so accustomed to the tangy blend of menthol and citrus that it mostly just smells like home, and she all but melts into him.

“How long you been awake, starlight?” he asks, keeping his voice low and gentle, and she sighs and shakes her head.

“Never fell asleep in the first place. I got up, oh...” She lifts her gaze, checking the time that floats into view, courtesy of her optical implant. “An hour ago, maybe?”

He squeezes her tight, and she can hear the frown in his voice as he asks, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

She kisses his shoulder—there’s a little cream there, too, and it makes her lips tingle for a brief moment. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t wanna interrupt.”

He huffs, dipping his head to meet her eyes. “You know you’re more important, babygirl. Besides...” he trails off, lifting an unsubtle eyebrow, “you know how much I love sendin’ you to sleep.”

She snorts a laugh, shakes her head. “You’re a selfless man.”

“I’m just eager to help,” he says, grinning, and she laughs again.

“You’re eager for something, I’ll grant you that.” The grin broadens, his cheek dimpling, and she considers the offer. It’s tempting, that’s for sure—she’s been working so much, hasn’t had much time or energy to indulge in the pleasure he’s always so willing to give her. She’s missed him, missed the sweet words that fall from his lips as he comes undone for her, missed the way he fills her just right, as though his body was made for hers, and hers for his.

But the idea of just the walk from the couch to the bedroom seems a little insurmountable right now, even for such a delectable reward. She doesn’t think her body can get any more exhausted than it already is, with or without his best efforts, and sleep hasn’t blessed her yet; and he’d put his arm on which means he’d expected to be awake for a while, hadn’t really planned on taking her back to bed so soon. With a sigh, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck, and shakes her head softly. “Thank you...but I think I’d just like to listen to the rain a little longer.”

He nods, hugging her close and resting his cheek against her hair. “That sounds just fine to me.”

Ezra gives her so many reasons to love him, and this is no exception—how willing he is to set aside his own desires for hers, how he always seems to know when she wants to be wooed and persuaded into bed versus when she just wants to be close to him without interference, even of the pleasurable kind.

She’s never been as skilled with words as he is, has no idea how to really verbalize such a feeling, but she breathes against his neck, “I love you so much, Ez,” and hopes it might suffice, for now.

He rubs her back, presses a kiss to the top of her head, murmurs, “I love you too, baby,” into her hair, his soft voice full of so much tenderness that she thinks he understands everything she’s ever left unsaid.

A boom of thunder splits the night, so close it seems to happen before the blinding flash, and they both jump. Ezra pulls away, squeezes her shoulder. “I’m gonna...go check that out,” he tells her, and she nods as he heaves himself to his feet and crosses the room to peer through the window.

She twists around to try and watch as he moves away from the glass and heads into the kitchen, beyond her view. An instant later, she hears the back door slide open, a strong draft and sharp whistle of wind blowing into the house before it closes again. “Ezra?” she calls, but there’s no response, so she assumes he’s gone outside to investigate, and waits with bated breath for him to return.

A minute later, he does, with another rush of wind; then he comes striding back around the corner, rubbing at his wet hair with a dish towel and looking far more awake and alert than he had before. “Looks like there’s a tree down in the back,” he announces, shaking his head. “Not one of ours, though, and I didn’t see a lick of flame. Too wet out there, I reckon.”

She puffs out a breath, and nods her head. “That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hm,” he agrees, dragging the towel over his face and down his neck and across his broad, glistening chest. Her hands suddenly itch to grab the towel from him and finish the job herself (possibly with her tongue, perhaps, fuck the towel, why do they even have towels?), the sight of him enough to cause her mind and libido to make a stark course correction from where she’d just said she wanted this night to lead, and she opens her mouth to make those intentions clear.

Before she can, another voice speaks up. “Did you guys hear that?”

Twisting back the other way, she turns and spots Cee stepping into the room, one hand rubbing at her tired eyes, the other holding her beloved plush Puzu doll against her stomach. “Aww, not you, too,” she calls, propping her chin on the back of the couch and offering the girl a sympathetic smile.

“We didn’t wake you, did we, little bird?” Ezra asks, slinging the towel over his shoulder with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Pretty sure it was the sky exploding that did it,” the teenager says dryly, shaking her head. “Planets are weird.”

“They are indeed,” he agrees, glancing from his daughter to his partner with a broad grin. Of the three of them, she is the de facto expert on planets, having resided on one for the longest and most recent stretch of time—but that was almost twenty years ago, now, so she isn’t entirely convinced it should count.

Shaking her head, she hauls herself up off the couch and stretches her arms up above her head, feeling something pop along her spine. “Well,” she sighs, turning to face them with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t I make us some cocoa, then, before we lose power or something?”

They both seem thrilled by the prospect, and she makes her way into the kitchen with a smile, taking only a slight detour to trail her fingers along the cooled, damp skin of Ezra’s back as she passes him by. There will be opportunity enough, later, for her hands to have their fill of him. They might all end up sleeping the day away after this storm finally passes, so for now she’s going to make the most of this time to spend with them.

Her hot chocolate recipe, perfected over the course of many years of sleepless nights, has become something of a ritual now that she has these two beloved people to make it for; she falls into it without conscious thought, toasting cardamom pods and a cinnamon stick in the saucepan before adding milk, then chopping up a bar of the good chocolate to stir in once it’s warm enough. The storm still rages loudly, and she can only just make out the cadence and timbre of Cee’s and Ezra’s voices as they discuss something in the other room, and she lets the sounds wash over her as she grabs a foil-wrapped parcel of popcorn and sets it on the other burner to pop, marveling at how surreal yet mundane it feels, to have a family—something she’d never even dreamed of for herself, before she met these two.

She’s poking around in the pantry, checking to see if there are any other tasty treats to munch on, when the sound of heavy furniture creaking along the floor—and their resulting laughter—reaches her ears and makes her question all those warm and fuzzy feelings. She leans back, trying to catch sight of what’s going on over there, and calls, “What’re you two up to?”

“Nothin’!” Ezra answers, far too quickly for her comfort, and she frowns and takes a step that way.

But then Cee calls back, “It’s a surprise! No peeking!”

“Fine! Fine,” she mutters, shaking her head but turning back. She’s pretty sure, now, what they’re doing, but resolves not to interfere in the creative process unless they ask for it.

Besides, she has snacks to prepare.

She whips up a few peanut butter sandwiches, crusts on and sliced into triangles, in case anyone’s really hungry—they’ll make for a quick lunch tomorrow, if not—and grabs the last few handfuls of berries out of the fridge as well. Tossing one into her mouth, the sweet, sharp juice bursts along her tongue as she dumps the popcorn into a big bowl and pointedly ignores the sounds of bedroom doors opening and something heavy being dragged down the hall. She fills the kettle with water and heats that, too, just in case they do lose power tonight and someone decides they want tea or something before it comes back; with a couple towels draped on top, it should stay warm enough until morning.

The milk is ready, so she scoops out the spices and whisks in the chocolate and ladles up three mugs, then arranges them and all the food into one of the fruit crates Ez brings home from Kikur, and calls, “Can I come in yet?”

“Just—hang on a tick,” he grunts, and she can hear a bit of scuffling. Then, Cee’s voice, “Okay, it’s ready!”

Already smiling, she hefts up the crate and heads over to see what they’ve made of the front room.

The coffee table has disappeared entirely; the couch has been moved back against the wall, its seats and pillows removed to serve as cushions atop Cee’s mattress, relocated from her bedroom to the floor. The floor lamp was taken from its usual corner to stand at the foot of the mattress, and two big bedsheets have been clothespinned together and draped over its lampshade and tucked behind the back of the couch, forming a canopy to cover their heads while still giving them a view of the windows and the rain beyond.

Ezra has changed into a dry pair of sweatpants and one of the soft sweaters she tends to steal from his wardrobe when he’s away. He clicks on the lamp, bathing the space inside in a warm, cloth-dampened glow; then he takes a step back and surveys their work with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, as though it were something far more architecturally complex than a cozy blanket fort. “You know, I think this is our best one yet.”

She sets the crate down gently, careful not to spill anything, and crosses her arms with an appraising air. “You know, I think you might be right...” she says, nodding her head slowly. “We better get in it, just to be sure.”

Laughing, Cee tosses her stuffed animal inside and clambers in first. She follows after the girl, settling in among the soft cushions and warm blankets with a sigh, amazed at how well the lightweight sheets muffle the harsh noise of the raging storm.

Ezra doesn’t join them just yet, instead crouching down to investigate the contents of the crate. “What is all this, starlight?” he asks, lifting up and passing over the mugs of chocolate and bowl of popcorn. “You made us a feast.”

“Just some snacks, to tide us over. Hey, no, you give that to us,” she reprimands, seeing him prying open the carton of berries. “Don’t even think about it.”

The man is a berry-eating fiend, just inhales the things like some sort of confused anteater gone frugivore. If she takes her eyes off him for one second with that carton in his possession, they’ll all be gone before she and Cee ever get a chance.

Even with her staring him down, he pops three into his mouth at once; but then he does, begrudgingly, hand the rest over, so she allows this transgression and snatches them up and passes the carton into Cee’s hands for safekeeping.

“You’re so mean to me,” he grumbles, even as he rests the plate of sandwiches she made on top of the mattress and stuffs one wedge into his mouth, finally moving past the lamp and under the canopy to settle against the cushions beside her.

“You need to learn how to share,” she scolds, taking the bitten-off piece of sandwich from his mouth and biting into it herself.

“Ew, no,” Cee groans. “If you two are gonna be gross, you’ll be banished from the fort.”

"Sorry, boss," she tells her, genuinely chastened.

Ezra nods his head, settling his expression into something solemn. "She's harsh, but fair."

Then, in a flash, he snatches back the last corner of bread and peanut butter and shoves it in his mouth, shattering the moment and sending them all into fits of laughter, too giddy from the lateness of the hour and the lack of sleep and the spontaneity of finding themselves all huddled together like this to ever be able (or willing) to reign in their shared mirth.

They giggle and tease each other and snack, mouths going sticky with peanut butter and chocolate, fingertips smeared with butter and salt and berry juice, even as the wind howls and the rain beats down on the roof. Here, under their makeshift tent, the three of them are warm and content and safe, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy to have found herself unable to fall asleep.

Cee is not often very physically affectionate, but she turns into a real cuddlebug when tired, and tonight is no exception. The older woman wraps her arms around the teenager’s shoulders and hugs her close, the Puzu plush tucked between them.

Beside her, Ezra tosses the last of the berries into his mouth and heaves a slow, satisfied sigh. “Did I ever tell you two about the time I met a ghost? Was a night just like this one.”

The girls look at each other, sharing matching dubious glances. “No, you haven’t,” Cee says, voice dry as bone. “And no, you definitely didn’t.”

“Swear it on my good arm!” he proclaims, laying his prosthetic hand over his heart, and it is utterly impossible to tell if the expression on his face is genuine or not. “Even know whose specter it was; I described his face to my crew after they found me, and one of the old timers said, ‘Why, that was Long Richard Johnson!’”

His captive audience squawk similar, wordless sounds of protest—she’s certain there’s never been such a man with such a name, let alone a spirit of the same.

But Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to gape at them. “What? You never heard the legend of Ol’ Long Dick?”

“Stop,” Cee groans, tossing a handful of popcorn at his face, but he shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face as he really starts to delve into the role of storyteller.

“No, no, I’m not— This is not just a me thing, this an honest-to-Kevva prospector’s legend. He was one of the greats, the first independent contractor to ever set foot on the Green.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, still disbelieving, but resting her cheek atop Cee’s head to listen. With or without any kernel of truth, this is bound to be an interesting tale, at least.

“I mean it! He was the first to reject allegiance to any of the corps; and they let ‘im, too, because no one else, before or since, could suss out those gems like he could. He was a master of the Green Moon; they say he was the first to locate the Queen’s Lair, but he refused to mark it on any map or tell anyone where it was, knew the corps were too greedy and bloodthirsty to ever be trusted with such knowledge. They say he hired a private ship to sneak him out there without their purview, determined to harvest it all his own self, but there was some engine trouble and he never did make it. They say he’s buried up at the top of the Green’s highest peak, with a headstone that reads, ‘Here lies Long Dick Johnson, who earned every inch of his name’.”

“You’re a menace,” she gasps, pelting him with more popcorn, because she’d almost started believing him until that last bit.

But he only laughs and shakes his head, plucking popcorn out of his own hair and tossing it in his mouth. “I’m only relaying what I myself have been told, any deviations from the truth are someone else’s doing.”

“And this ‘ghost’ you saw?” Cee asks, making exaggerated air quotes with a skeptical look on her face.

“Ah, now, that is my tale to tell.” He leans in and props his chin in his hand, voice lowering to a whisper as he begins, “It was a night just like this one...”

He weaves a tapestry with his words, painting a picture for them of himself as a (somewhat) fresher-faced kip, new to the moon above Bakhroma, having contracted out his able body and his rundown ship to a crew of grizzled prospectors, in exchange for training on how to harvest the dazzling gems and a reasonable cut of their earnings. All had gone accordingly, until they found themselves caught in one of the moon’s rare, but devastating, rainstorms, and had to stay cooped up inside the ship, unable to harvest and unable to relocate lest the ship get struck by lightning midair and leave them stranded there permanently. So instead he spent his days learning complicated board games with made-up rules using bits and pieces of supplies they had lying around, letting his ears be filled with raucous stories of days and prospectors gone by.

And then, late one night, he’d been shaken awake by a man he’d thought to be one of the crew, dragged from his bunk and shuffled into his suit and helmet and filter and pack. He’d only briefly tried to hesitate, to wake the others, but the man had grabbed him and growled, “There’s no time, boy—move, or you’ll miss it.” So, only half awake and unable to think straight, he’d obeyed without question and followed him out the airlock.

He had stumbled in the dark, in the mud, in the rain and wind, still relatively new to this and unaccustomed to the bulky suit, and by the time he realized that the only reason he could follow at all was because the man leading him was glowing—luminous and stark and visible even through the sheeting rain and dust and muck that clouded his helmet—they were too far from the ship for him to ever have any hope of making it back on his own. He’d had no choice but to plod along after the ghost, for hours, maybe, until finally the figure stopped and pointed at his feet and commanded, “Dig.”

And then, without a whole lotta options otherwise, he had obeyed.

Eventually, the storm passed, and the light dawned, and his crew must’ve noticed his empty bunk and followed the single track of stumbling footprints until they found him where he’d fallen asleep in the shallow gouge he’d carved in the dirt, still clutching his shovel.

They accused him of sleepwalking, of cabin fever, of dipping into the good hooch behind their backs—all without malice, really, but certainly refusing to believe any claim of spectral visions. At least, that was, until one of the men looked down, and realized that the thing at his feet wasn’t, in fact, a large clump of dirt, but an aurelac root nodule the size of a small child.

“To this day, that was my finest single harvest,” he admits, shaking his head slowly. “The crew gave me a heartier cut than promised, and still all had enough to retire off of. Not me, though; from that day on, I was hooked. Sunk my savings in a newer ship and sought out another crew and kept goin’ back, always hoping to see him again, to pull another fabled haul.”

She nods her head, unsure of what she could possibly have to say to that, but she can so vividly imagine how such an experience would inspire a man like him, would spur him on to the sort of life he’s led. So she says nothing, simply lays a hand against his cheek, letting the edge of her thumb rest in the dimple that creases his cheek as he blinks and tears his gaze away from the past to smile at her instead.

He turns his head, presses his lips to her palm with a sweet kiss, and nods toward the teenager resting against her shoulder. “How long’s she been out?”

“Hm?” she asks, surprised, and looks down to find that he’s right, that the girl’s eyes are firmly closed, her chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. “Oh,” she whispers, scared to wake her, “I didn’t even notice.”

His breathy laugh is quiet, a chuckle kept mostly inside his chest, and he nods his head and says, “Let’s not wake her. She can sleep out here, don’t you think?”

“I—” she tries, but the words are stifled by a deep yawn that causes tears to prick at the corners of her eyes; she brushes them away, offers him a sheepish smile. “I think I might join her.”

His grin is brilliant as he nods again, leans in for a quick kiss, then pulls back and starts gathering up the empty mugs and half-eaten popcorn and sandwiches. “How about we all stay, hm? I’ll put these away.”

“Here, I can help—” she starts, but he catches her reaching hand in his and shakes his head.

“I got it, baby. You stay here with her, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

She nods, rubbing at her eye again, the exhaustion of the past two weeks finally catching up with her. “You promise?”

Ezra kisses her again, warm, soft lips lingering in a way that steals her breath away, leaves her lightheaded and a little dazed when he pulls back and whispers, “I promise.”

She settles deeper into the cushions as he quietly gathers up the dishes and food and the few errant popcorn kernels they’d thrown at him, and slips out from the blanket fort. It’s immediately colder in there without his warmth, emptier without his familiar weight beside her, and she hugs Cee a little tighter as she listens to the fridge opening and closing, the faucet turning on and off, his footsteps drawing near then moving past and away down the hall to the bedroom. Above it all, the sound of the rain against the roof has settled into a steadier, gentler thrum, the booming thunder and frightful wind moving on to rattle someone else’s windows.

When Ezra returns, clicking off the lamp and crawling under the canopy to slide in beside her, he has removed his prosthetic arm—never fond of sleeping with it on—and brought the heavy quilt from atop their bed along with him. She helps him spread it out over all three of them, making sure Cee is tucked in snug while he settles in and wraps his arm around her waist.

He rests his chin on her available shoulder, his whispered words a warm brush of breath on her skin as he asks, “What’d you think of my story?”

“I think it was...effective at making us all sleepy.”

He huffs a laugh, rubs his nose against her cheek. “Alright, sure, but did you believe it?”

She grins in the dark, even though she knows he can’t see it. “I believe that you believe it,” she allows.

His lips, pressing against her skin, curl up into a smile, and the warmth of it works its way deep into her heart and radiates from there to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. His hand slips beneath her shirt, palm spreading along her belly—not teasing, not suggesting anything more than a blatant desire to touch as much of her as he can. “That’s more than enough for me,” he sighs, achingly content.

She nods her head in agreement; and in these last few instants of consciousness before sleep finally claims her, she thinks that this moment, snuggled close between the two best people in the known universe, safe and warm from any storm, is more than enough for her, too.

#god this is so self-indulgent i really have no excuse #maybe someday i will write about something other than these three. but no promises #little spoon!Ezra #(on a technicality)#ezra prospect x oc #ezra prospect x reader #to build something new #theres a line in here that made me laugh when i wrote it and makes me laugh every time i read it again #i wonder if you all can spot it lol #real yearning hours #silverwolf319 #my writing

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onelostgirl · 5 years ago

Text

10. Unexpectedly Present

Miya Atsumu x (f) smau

“Well you know this fanmeet is great and all but what are you thinking of asking the panel?”

Y/N had gone out to get a breath of fresh air after feeling a little heated from Atsumu’s texts. She obviously just blamed it on the poor air conditioning but really that girl must have been feeling something after being blindsided like that.

“I’m so crazy about Atsumu that I want to know what he does everyday all day.”

She overheard one of the fans say as she felt a vibration ring from her phone.

crazzzy cat 🌻

Great, she knew posting that status was a mistake.

While texting back and forth with Cat, she couldn’t ignore the conversation going on a little ways away. The girls were speaking loudly as if they didn’t care who heard them.

“Do you think Atsumu’s dating anyone?”

“What about Bokuto, that beef monster must be taken?”

“Isn’t Shōyō the cutest though? Like I’d love to squeeze the life out of him.”

“Well I think that Sakusa would be a pleasure to have in bed if nothing else.”

She cringed thinking how people were extremely explicit even when they were in public. She also wondered what the guys would think if they knew how desirable they were to their growing fan base.

“And what about that new manager of theirs?”

Suddenly, this comment made Y/N stop in her tracks as she never expected to come up in anyone’s conversation.

“You mean that plain girl with the striped shirt. Oh please like we have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah isn’t it like illegal to date the players you work for.”

“Even if she liked them what makes you think they like her?”

“Exactly don’t you think they’d be embarrassed she isn’t even cute.”

“Well I’d be worried if I was a Sakusa stan since black haired girls are his preference.”

“Yeah right like Sakusa would ever stoop so low to touch such trash.”

“If I were an Atsumu stan, I’d be careful since they seem to be getting closer.”

Y/N wondered if it was that easy to tell that something had changed between her and Atsumu. To the both of them it might not have seem so obvious but after some thought she realized that it might seem odd to someone looking from the outside.

Ding ding

A notification from her phone made Y/N look down.

She knew that Cat was just trying to be a supportive friend but a part of her wanted to deny any feelings other than platonic ones involving Miya.

There was something in her that knew he was a dangerous person. The kind of person that once you fall there was no going back. And she also understood that it wasn’t fair to expect anything from him or anyone else most especially because she wouldn’t be going into a relationship alone.

Yuto was someone who needed her and while he was something she hadn’t planned for her life very much surrounded him.

And from her past experience, she knew that despite her choosing to accept this responsibility that didn’t mean that others need too also.

He was a very much single and attractive person. He didn’t need anything tying him down not when he was at the height of his career.

Y/N quickly shook her head trying to dispel any thoughts of Miya because logically there was no way they would fit.

Atsumu was on a mission- he was searching for a certain fair haired, capable manager. He didn’t actually know why he was doing this but he guessed it was to say, “Ain’t I the best- don’t cha think e’vrythin’ would be ruined without me.”

He bit back a chuckle as he thought of the look on Y/N face when he’d tell her face to face that she was in his debt.

It was quite amusing seeing a side to her that he hadn’t before.

So far, since they met Y/N was all polite smiles and a firm exterior but he was slowly witnessing parts of her he never intended to.

He didn’t think this was anything other than something to distract him, from things he was refusing to deal with, issues he was running from.

He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad since this wasn’t a permanent set up. She’d leave when her temporary contract was up and he’d be better than he was when she came.

Yup, he’d just soak in the fun he could have and walk away when everything was said and done.

He waited by the elevator doors, a thought flashing in his mind that he wanted to see her already. Where would he find her, then the elevator doors opened.

He stopped for a moment, slightly stunned that she was in front of him. He thought she looked a little dorky but in a cute way.

“Oh Miya, where are you going?” Y/N asked very obviously trying to avoid the scene that Atsumu just witnessed. She knew she would die of embarrassment if he brought it up.

“Oh no no, ya ain’t dodgin’ that one, what the heck was that?”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, she desperately wanted to play this one off because there was no way she was going to admit what she was really doing.

She wouldn’t just out right say that those silly little girls comments got to her and she wanted to try doing something cute. The first thing that popped into her head was to do a silly face which always helped Yuto whenever he was in a bad mood.

‘Great, I just thought of trying to be cute by a 5 year old’s standards.’ She said to herself.

Atsumu was still waiting for her reply a look of slight interest if his slanted eyebrows were any indication.

“I was just doing a facial massage if you must know.”

Y/N replied holding back a hair flip because she knew that would be pushing it.

“A face massage?” The blonde repeated looking as if he wanted a more detailed explanation.

‘Well, in for a inch, in for a mile.’ She thought.

“Yes it helps to relax and firm up your face, you should try it. It’ll definitely spruce up your profile for the photo ops today.” Y/N continued trying to sell her point wondering if she was actually doing a good job at it.

She turned to her side as she watched the blonde slowly copy the gestures she performed when the elevator opened.

‘Bless his soul, he’s such an airhead at times.’

She tried stifling the giggle that was flowing out of her but didn’t escape Atsumu’s notice.

“Yer pullin’ my leg ain’t ya.” He said in a gruff his shoulders slightly bent in a pouting motion.

Y/N had to admit, as handsome and good lucking as Atsumu Miya was-his cute moments were definitely a show stopper.

“Don’t worry your macho image is well protected.” Y/N reassured as Atsumu looked down at her.

“Not sure that makes me feel safe at all.” He replied as Y/N laughed in response. This conversation was sounding slightly familiar.

“You’ll live.”

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Author’s note: Hope that this weeks chapters can get some love as we dive deeper into the craziness that is our beloved Y/N and Atsumu’s Love Loop. Suffice it to say that their challenges are only about to begin. Taglist is still open ☺️

Taglist: @shadyjinyoung @roiana-mustang @z-i-t-t @koukamisblog @90s-belladonna @kimxbae @hamsterfan17 @of-heroes-and-dreams @huliannajace @iloveanime691 @rinnieee @lilacshouko @alyssasteaparty @nhaikyuu @crazyforleo @life-taken-by-hq-baby-liberos @lolaywrites @ensworks

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!!#haikyuu social media #miya atsumu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #onelostgirl love loop #atsumu smau

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cronquette · 4 years ago

Text

:four:

Disclaimers:

-Dedicated to Julia

-I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, I’m just making my SasuSaku dreams come to life.

-More personal notes will be situated at the end of the chapter

Enjoy!

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“Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.”

― Erol Ozan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dewy grass left trails of freshness that wafted towards her nose, for it was sunrise when she had approached the village. It was massive, buildings wrung with wood and stoned grounds, stalls brimmed with fresh, rosy apples or exotic, blooming flowers flung themselves at her every second, catching her cocooned curiosity quickly. Her dress was modestly masked with a cloak, in case the spring cold would make itself known once more, and torment her small being with its ever freezing bite.

Her footfalls scraped slowly as she wandered through the streets, not paying heed to much of the crowds or clamour for she wanted to check her surroundings at the very least; it was not as if she had anything physically to hide. Her most prominent feature that would glimmer daintily in the sunlight, her glowing pink tresses, were now concealed from prying eyes. And her jewel, the captivating viridescent rhinestone, was tucked away safely in her skirt pocket, where her hand had been tucked in, lightly grasping it for fear that it would suddenly disappear. The only thing that would hold people’s gaze would be her foaming green irises, but she had held her head away in her hood that it would be impossible to observe such globes with practically no sunlight to hover over them. They practically glimmered under the sun’s speculation.

Her strides were slow, and her chest heaved slowly. She took in her sights, savouring her surroundings as she walked further, and further, through the roads. Marketing was certainly a thing she’d caught on straight away, for there were a myriad of sellers, creating clamour for people to take a peep at the things they held in possession. Many were farmers, she took a guess, as they had all sorts of crops and vegetables, fruits and whatnots sitting in their respective baskets, just anxiously waiting to be eaten. Others seemed to have sewn fine clothing, or smooth, meticulously crafted pottery, lathered in clean coats of polish to finish them nicely and make them look quite presentable.

The domesticality was all new to her, a culture she wasn’t very familiar with. Living in a coven all her life, food supplies either discreetly and swiftly delivered or fetched as soon as possible. Residing secretly was something she was used to, the exception of the ritual she had just experienced, along with attending all the others. She wasn’t suited for such open marketing, which proved her uselessness currently all the more when she realised there was not one silver coin in her pocket. Even packed with all her clothes, food to suffice for just a few days, and scrolls to help her study, she wasn’t able to purchase one single thing. It was fruitless to whine and beg, she wouldn't succumb to such vulgarity. Her mentor taught her that, and even so, there was no way she would lower her position as a witch before those humans.

Even so, she couldn’t help but smile. Ino would enjoy this, she knew. The outdoors was just so suited for an out-going, confident girl such as the said blonde, and it was unfortunate she wouldn’t be accompanying the pinkette. The sun would be much entertained playing with golden locks, and accentuating such crystal eyes.

A new start was certainly refreshing, and she had a tingling feeling that it would be quite soon that she would be reaching new horizons and milestones

Wherever Sasuke traversed, a cold, sinister aura always accompanied him, But his firmness wasn’t able to intimidate everyone, so to say. There were, however, many who greatly feared him and the power he held. Those were mostly outside the palace walls, though. Within the elegant patterned pillars and marbled flooring, there was nothing short of being annoyed by the Uchiha. His servants, the dainty things they were, served him rightfully, not complaining unless amongst the company of themselves, and he paid no heed otherwise.

Hearsay was something not really familiar within the castle walls.

However, in the court, it was more than likely to be the everyday news.

Sasuke took his place at the old oak table, sitting comfortably at the head, his eyes steely piercing through the silence of the room. To his right, sat stiffly none other than Hyuuga Hiashi, in all his glory, arms crossed low around the biceps, his mouth achieving such a downturn it surfaced a memory of his own father doing such imposed actions. It made his brows knit deeper, before cooly turning to face frontwards.

“I take it you’re all well,” his words meant nothing; it was just procedure to stall a little before heading to the main topic, he had to remind himself. He’d seen many of his ancestors do so before him, and he wanted nothing more than to place his feet in their steps. A cold stand of wind shook the omnipresent tension this room always carried when such meetings took place.

Silent nods prodded him to continue, and so the raven folded his hands, leaning his elbows pointed on the table as his palms stood in front of him. He sharply inhaled: this conference would last an hour (as always), and so bringing different subjects to light at the right time was always something laying dormant at the back of his mind. He decided to start with the one that probed the nightmares that shook the living daylights out of him.

“Witches. And Warlocks. Those creatures still hang free,” He licked his lips in such a tantalisingly slow way it made one gulp.

“Why?”

His Adam's apple bobbed as the last word came out. His voice was a dagger, slicing the peace of the government before him in one single blow.

“Pardon me, your majesty,”

It was one of the further participants at the table who spoke, nevertheless, his voice wrung firmly, and his eyes, though pale like milk, shone with tenacity that they were quite nice to be held in.

“Those creatures may be vulgar, but they hold some sort of intelligence, sire. They’re hard to catch, and they certainly do not want to be found. I suspect they dwell in an abandoned part of Konoha’s vast forests, but it would be a matter of searches to see. Alas, you and I both know these follow ups have been taken before, and everytime, the result has always been futile.”

“Do you suggest that we abandon our searches entirely, Neji?” he gritted out with venom spitting from his teeth.

“I do not suggest as such, my Lord. However, there is only so much you can do; you’re not yet King of this land, you are Crowned Prince. The level of your status has merely succeeded upwards. There are still elders who have more power over you,” he fussed haughty, for his own clan leader was one of the few. The temptation to stomp over to his chair and rip his throat with the Uchiha’s bare hands was so enticing, but he had self control. He knew it was not the time to play like animals.

But Neji was truly a jackass.

“Hyuuga,” the domineering, stygian orbed male nodded to Hiashi, receiving his stern attention. The silence between them spoke louder than anything, for the elder knew exactly what the prince desired. And although it was something that was made to sleep for the moment, everyone in that room wanted nothing more than those chakra-wielding things to die. A common trait shared by all the civilians and warriors. Those of flesh and bone.

“You ask me to send out troops to find passages to where they lay, Sasuke,” he bit out gruffly. He cleared his throat, almost as if to show he had still a sort of superiority towards him.

“I can do so, but the most I can send is two troops of twenty. It’s a fleeting risk, however, all the more scarce that they will have to split halves in order to scatter north, south, east and west,” he answered. Sasuke refused to release the relieving breath he was holding, and instead flared his nose, as if to contemplate the proposition. It wasn’t much: ten of their men each searching thousands of acres, How long it would take to know of their return infuriated him beyond measure, but then again, less members meant more freedom.

They could move better in less numbers, so that was something that he could hold himself onto. Apparently, it was enough to convince him.

“I’ll take that chance,” his voice was hoarse from not trying to rush his words, an attempt to not sound desperate, for even in a room full of eyes his pride was bound to be torn like a ravaging pack of lions.

A small nod from the Hyuuga was all that he needed to know. Another search was going to be sent.

“Is that all you want to discuss with us, my Lord?” the aforementioned narrowed his eyes at the man who spoke. The lackadaisical, smart annoyance had his arms crossed behind his head, leaning comfortably on the back of his chair as if he had a care in the world. It wouldn’t surprise him if he didn’t. The audacity of the Nara didn’t disturb the Uchiha as much as before, so it only gave him so much as a twitch to his left eye.

“No, but most of the topics I am to discuss aren’t as much of importance. Feel free to sleep through the rest of this conference,” he spoke the last sentence sarcastically.

“May I but in before I snore then, your Highness?” he sighed.

The dark haired male shrugged, as if to say do as you wish.

“Some girl entered the village today,” he chided, “strange gal. Doesn’t look like she’s from here. We ought to keep an eye on her.” he proceeded to yawn, and leant back further, he looked as if to fall off his chair.

“Her appearance, Nara?” the young Hyuuga male inquired.

From his observation, she wasn’t very memorable, having been concealed through a cloak. The only thing that caught his eye was her eyes: the bright, emerald orbs they were.

Interesting.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tire herself out through gallivanting aimlessly, padding her way through stones and pebbles on the ground, the sky’s heat accentuating through every hour, and the board weighted pack on her shoulders smally growing heavier by the minute. She wiped the swelling beads of perspiration that scurried down her forehead with the back of her hand, and released a breath of exasperation.

This village was immense in land expanse, and she hadn’t even gotten through to the heart of it, the place that made her mind twist with fascination-- the palace itself. In all its splendour, the building stood proudly in the heat, almost glimmering with pride: she could see it. But it seemed today was not one of which she could journey so far. She’d seen carriages steadily rocking bye, the horses trotting with such elegance she was entranced so much she stopped just to see them going by.

Oh, what a place this was.

She’d brought with her many of the scrolls containing the recounts of some of her predecessors’ experience, those--of course-- who’d made it out alive, and she pondered whether her experience would be deemed just as exhilarating. Or, gruesome enough to know she’d be burnt alive at the stake. She really didn’t know.

She then had encountered a bakery, blooming with warmth and delicious treats stacked at the window sill, enticing all who laid eyes on them. The pinkette frowned in despair as she knew she would not be able to purchase such a delicacy. Her stomach even whined at how imbecilic she was for not even bringing any coins to spare.

As she was about to move along, a voice caught her attention.

“Excuse me Miss, I can’t help but see how you’re looking at the pastries in our shop. Would you like to buy something?”

Unlike the Haruno, this girl wasn’t wearing a dimple, and so her chestnut locks gleamed hazelnut-like as she made her way towards her. Said strands were neatly folded round the top of her head to create two buns, only a ragged fringe framing her face. She dressed simply, with very few (maybe two) rosy petticoats that rivaled Sakura’s own hair. Not that it mattered-- it wasn’t as if she could see it anyway. She wore a slightly darker shade for her bodice, the tone drifting to a crimson, and her flat stomacher was an off-white, almost cream colour. She was a civilian, no doubt, but she seemed more dressed up than what would be necessary.

“Your shop?”

“Ah, it does seem like I’m not best suited for the occasion in this,” she picked up the thick skirts as a way of gesturing to her outfit, “however my family does own the bakery. You’re not from here, are you? I’m Tenten, a pleasure to meet you!”

Her beam was so bright and fulfilling it made the rosette pop a grin as well, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“Sakura, nice to meet you too,” she smiled softly.

“And I would love to buy something from your shop, it’s just that I don’t have any money on me right now. I’m very gratified at the offer, though.”

The brunette shook her head with a laugh, before grabbing the Haruno’s wrist and practically dragging her into the store. They were instantly met with the cozy smell of bread and sweet aromas, and the warmth of ovens burning with fervour.

“Oh, har har! Since you’re new around here, I’ll let you have a pastry for free! Your choice: pick one and it’s on the house,” she gestured to the room. The room was tantalisingly dizzying her with spells of temptation, and this girl was a civilian!

The pinkette smiled weakly and bit out a childish, nervous giggle. Not eating for a while seemed to take a toll on her.

“I couldn’t. Really, Tenten, I appreciate the offer, but I must get going-”

“But you’re new, Sakura! I bet you don’t even have a place to stay.” she wagged an accusatory finger at the aforementioned. The latter grew pale at the revelation, trying to scatter ideas through her head and pick out the most logical option. However, there was none. It really was inevitable. She didn’t know what to do or say, but opening and closing her mouth frantically in an attempt to let out words was an amusing sight to display.

“Aha!” The brunette smirked. She then proceeded to run behind a counter, and with a flimsy towel, she meticulously pulled out a small, hand-sized meat pie, with slow strings of steam wafting upwards. She pushed her hands towards the Haruno’s petite frame, and instantly caught a whiff. She swallowed, before acquiescing.

The inside of her mouth burst with flavour as she took a bite. Her tongue tingled as she chewed pensively, still captured in the eyes of a certain baker’s daughter.

“I-It’s good,” she commented.

She ended up eating another one after.

Shikamaru was always observant, his skills made prominent for the Uchiha’s gain, and although it was a trapping situation, he didn’t mind. His life always bore him no matter what he did, the most he spent doing was making out the shapes of clouds in his spare time. That, and help soothe the load of paperwork that had been flung on his shoulders.

As of this moment, the conference had come to a close, and he was free to roam as much as he desired.

Instead, he sat at a small bar stall, a metal mug of beer filled to the brim with golden alcoholic liquid, topped off with frothy substances bursting atop. One pint of the drink, and above all, his tobacco pipe puffed with intoxicating reels of smoke, making the man beside him choke in disgust.

“God, Shikamaru, do you have to smoke that crap?! It stinks!”

He would have scoffed at the said Uzumaki, who vexibly stalked him to this den after claiming that he needed some sort of relief off of all his errands as ‘Teme’s Right-Hand man’, and wanted some company. He still had no clue how the blonde was able to get away with that filthy nickname. But it wasn’t his place to judge their relationship, as the topic itself was something so obscure it confused even the two men in the involved party. And the Nara really didn’t appreciate getting himself into puzzling situations that twisted his brain unless he was forced to, or it was a pastime he participated in.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave, Naruto.” he sighed, as he took a swig at the beer in front of him, gasping as the bitter drink swelled down his throat. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, but he was used to it. It burned, but he relished in the pain.

“No way! I’m staying, ‘ttebayo. Oi, bartender! I’d like a pint sized mug of whiskey if you will!” she exclaimed, slamming his fisted hand on the sticky countertop. No one made enough effort to properly clean the wooden table, but no one complained.

Shikamaru shook his head, punching the blonde’s bicep rather harshly:

“I’m not taking care of a drunk you.”

He swatted his hand in the air as if dismissing him lightly, his nose wrinkling in laughter. As his drink was carefully handed to him, he recklessly bumped it towards the beer on the counter, slightly tipping the liquids together in an attempt to make some sort of toast.

“I’ll be careful, promise.”

The Nara was tempted to mutter something along the lines of ‘tis what you said last time’, but he held his tongue and instead sucked in yet another breath of tobacco, his mind slightly clouding in a sort of dizzy utopia. He heard a breathy exhale from his left before a slightly slurred sentence arrived, leaving his brows furrowed in calculation.

“Hey, heard from Sasuke that there’s a new girl in town. Do you know where she is, now?”

“What, are you willing to scare yet another one of the female species that resides in Konoha?”

The Uzumaki sputtered, leaving a smirk to cross the brunet’s features.

“Go to hell, Shikamaru!”

“And no, I just wanna meet her.” he lipped, pouting like a child. He was obviously highly offended, and that added to the other man’s pride.

In the end the two downed their drinks forcefully, not wasting one drop and yet attempting hard to sustain themselves from succumbing to the drunkenness. However their walking patterns seemed quite unsturdy and Naruto was easily daydreaming, so it wasn’t a good sign. In the end, they tossed their cash to the bartender carelessly, and stumbled around the village in search of a certain lady.

They found her, and quite simply too. The Nara remembered she was last seen, and where he found her, at the bakery he most frequented, since their baked goods were better than the others, it was a good travelling pace of exercise, and it was conjoined with a neighbouring weaponry store next door which they also owned. So, easily, they found her, although that was just going to be a place of questioning her whereabouts.

The bell chimed as the wooden door opened.

“Tenten,” Shikamaru respectfully regarded, a clumsy Naruto staggering behind. The shop was warm and cozy, and instantly scents of sweet and savoury adorned his senses.

“Tenten! Nice to see ya, we were wondering if you’ve got any information about where the new girl is-”

The brunet stopped in confusion at the sudden halt of breath from the Uzumaki. Something that he didn’t do often. Something in his opinion that he should do often. But that wasn’t the point.

He found the blonde gaping ahead of him, all sense of inebriation perished as his eyes glistened with a look of familiarity at whatever was behind him. Instantly, he turned around.

A small girl sat at the furthest table, shoulders squared and eyes wide with the same look of intensity as the male beside him. Her mouth hung lowly, as she was blinking frantically, as if they were an illusion she was trying to escape from. Her rosy brows knitted as she tried to find the words to say, but the whole room rushed cold as the two apparently came to the same sort of conclusion of words.

“Sakura-chan?!”

“Naruto?!”

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

Hi! Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate around this time. Can you believe it? 2020 is finally over, my God. My friends and I are deciding to go on a zoom call and play rick astley’s never gonna give you up as the end credits of this year. Seriously, it all goes downhill from here fnhdbkjdf. One of my friends is already stomping on 2021, don’t get me started lol.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please comment/review, as I really like to know that people still read my story, especially on ffnet and ao3. To those who have done so before, thank you so much! Every comment/review makes my entire day.

since my beta reader had something come up, until you read this, Julia! XD

Yours truly,

-Avis

#SasuSaku

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