#also should have planned her outfit better but I’m rushing all of these

[fragileruns]

fake dating with james? major angst end with fluff?

okay, to be completely candid with you guys, this is my first time writing like this. i’ve never really done fics or even small drabbles before, so i deeply apologize if this is the worst thing you’ve ever read. i promise i’m trying to get better. this has also been sitting in my drafts for so long, since i couldn’t decide how to end it.

summary: you fell in love with your fake boyfriend. he fell in love with you, too.

warning: not as much angst, sorry </3. fluff, horrible writing, a lot of rushing. james rants ab his love for you

Dating James was like a dream, truly. Even though it was fake, meant to just be a ruse to make Lily jealous, he made it seem like it was perfectly real. He walked you to every class, offered you his jumper the moment you shook in the slightest, gave you his breakfast if you were still hungry. He even made sure to throw in a grand gesture every once in a while — a large bouquet of flowers, buying you a nice outfit or that expensive perfume you wanted but couldn’t afford. Anything he could do.

The only problem was how much you liked dating him. It was hard to remind yourself that it was all fake — that it was all happening just to make another girl jealous, because that’s who he was in love with. Lily. Not you. And it broke your heart every time you were reminded of that. Every time he’d kiss your cheek and murmur something about Lily watching, whenever he’d come to you with so much excitement over the plan working, whenever he’d immediately pull away as soon as you two were alone. It all hurt.

And that was why you had to end it. Today, before you could chicken out and let yourself get lost in something that’s not real.

“James? Can we talk?” You questioned softly once you found him in his dorm room, Remus and Sirius studying something on one of the beds, and Peter trying to make light conversation. “Um — somewhere private.”

“Yeah, of course.” The bespectacled boy gave you a grin, quickly slapping Sirius lightly on top of the head to signal for him and Remus to leave, before nodding his head for Peter to do the same. After a few grumbles, the three eventually left the room, leaving both you and James alone. “Hey, did you see Lily at breakfast today? Marls said she was ‘bout ready to stab someone, must mean the plan’s working.”

“Right, yeah, that’s great, James.” You murmured distantly, almost as if you weren’t really listening, which was what caught James attention. A frown came over his face and he took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

“Is something wrong? What did you want to talk about?”

“Us. I mean — this whole dating thing. Fake dating thing.” You clarified, mentally sighing at how nervous you already were. It was already proving to be more difficult than you could handle.

“I think we should end this.”

“This? The plan? No. Why would we do that?” James questioned frantically, his frown only growing. Truly, he didn’t know if he was upset because he didn’t want to backtrack with Lily, or if it was because he didn’t want to stop being with you.

“Because, it ran it’s course. It worked, it did what it was supposed to do. I think going on any longer would just be beating a dead horse, y’know? And you can’t exactly get with Lily if you have a girlfriend, even if it’s fake.”

“No — No, we have to keep going. We’re not done yet,” James was trying to come up with a reason. He didn’t know why, you did have a point. But the idea of ending things caused a feeling in his gut, and he didn’t like it. “There — there’s the Yule Ball. We can’t break up before the Yule Ball.”

“Ask Lily. I overheard her talking with Marlene and Mary about how she wished she could go with you.”

“Then I’d just seem like an asshole who left his girlfriend for another girl.”

“James,” you sighed. He was making it more difficult than you thought he would. You almost thought he’d be happy, that it had worked well enough he could be with Lily now. “It won’t seem that way. Ask Lily to the Yule Ball. This has to be over, okay? I just — it has to be, I’m sorry.”

You left before he could come up with another reply, leaving both yourself and James completely devastated and wishing for something that never really existed.

Two weeks and some moping later, it was finally time for the Yule Ball. Something that you should be excited for — all of your friends were.

But, it was hard to be excited when you knew the person you were in love with would be going with another girl. Sirius had offered to go with you, as friends, of course. You had updated him on why you ended things with James and you figured he wanted to distract you from it all. However, you declined — you knew he wanted to go with Remus and you didn’t want to stand in the way of their night.

Amos Diggory had asked you as well — you thought about saying yes at first, not wanting to be the only person without a date, but it would be cruel to lead him on, so you simply said you wanted to go alone.

It hurt, hearing Lily gush over James as she got ready. You were so used to hearing her complain about his antics and gestures, and now she was swooning and you didn’t think you could bear it. Mary kept sending you sympathetic glances — clearly your moping hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

It even hurt when you were there, surrounded by friends. James avoided eye contact, always either making an excuse of getting drinks for him and Lily or simply staying silent — something very rare for him.

A slow song eventually came on, all of your friends rushing off with their dates to get the first dance of the night, all of them blushing and giggling. And you were happy for them, you were. You just wished you could join in the feeling, rather than sitting alone to the sidelines.

The even was going by dreadfully slow, and you were beginning to contemplate just leaving early — making an excuse that your head hurt, or you were sick — whenever Amos came up to you.

“Hey — I know you didn’t want to come with anyone. Or with me, at least. But you seem lonely,” he started, before plopping down on the seat next to you. “Do you want to dance? No strings attached.”

“I — that would be lovely, actually.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you up and over to the “dance floor,” which was really just the middle of the Great Hall. You immediately felt less awkward than you had before — even if it wasn’t James, at least you weren’t sitting by yourself.

“Did you say no to me because of James?”

“What?”

“Did you not want to come with me because you’re still hung up on James? You two seemed really… happy, together. I guess I should’ve figured you weren’t over him.”

“Oh, we were never actually —” You were cut off, both yours and Amos’ heads looking up to the figure who interrupted you. James.

“Sorry, mate, do you mind if I steal her for a moment? Thanks.” James didn’t wait for either of you to respond, instead pulling you to the complete opposite side of the room.

He avoided making eye contact with you, leaving you more confused than you were two seconds ago. What was the point of pulling you over here if he didn’t have anything to say?

“It looked like you and Lily were having fun,” you decided to speak, hoping to ease whatever tension was building between the two of you.

“What? Oh yeah, sure. I guess,” he said, practically waving you off. It was as if he wasn’t even listening, his mind in a totally different world. “I need to say something. And I need you to not interrupt me. Okay?”

You nodded, part of you terrified for what was about to come. You couldn’t think of anything you had done to him recently. You hadn’t even spoken to him, how could you have possibly upset him? What could he possibly need to talk about?

“I’ve always been in love with Lily. Since as long as I can remember, it’s been her. I didn’t even give anyone else a chance, because she had to be the one.”

“Gee. Thanks for the reminder, James.”

“Wait. I’m not done. I never gave anyone a chance. Not a serious one, at least. And — and then you showed up. And I know it was supposed to be fake, and it was supposed to just make Lily jealous. But, somewhere I think… I think I realized that maybe she’s not the one. Because whenever you ended things, it felt like — I don’t know, it sort of felt like my heart was missing.”

He kept rambling, and you opened your mouth to interrupt. To ask if he was saying what you thought he was. But, he quickly shushed you, holding a finger up to signal he was still talking.

“And, I thought maybe I just liked the attention. Liked being in a relationship. But, I’m here with Lily and it’s not the same. It doesn’t feel the same. I don’t feel the same. I just, I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re the only person who made me feel so seen, so… so me. Does that make sense? I just, I think I might be in love with you.” He finally finished up, letting his eyes fall to your face, his eyes wide as if he had just confessed to murder.

You could tell he was nervous, but you stayed silent, blinking slowly as you processed his words. “You can — you can say something now. Please say something.”

“I think I may be in love with you, too, Potter.” You finally spoke, watching the grin that slowly took over his face once he realized what you said.

“Really?” He tried not to show how giddy he was, tried not to seem too much like a child who was just told they could get ice cream. But how was he supposed to contain himself when you just told him you loved him, too? How was he supposed to pretend like he wasn’t on cloud fucking nine?

“Yes. Now, are you gonna kiss me, or do I have to do it myself?”

#james potter x reader angst #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x you #james potter drabbles #james potter blurbs #james potter angst #james potter x y/n #marauders drabble #marauders fluff

[quibbs126]

May I request a CacaoLily (Dark Cacao x White Lily) fan child if you haven’t done one already?

All right, I made her, this is Snowdrop Cookie

So as for her name, it’s mostly because snowdrops are white flowers, and the Dark Cacao Kingdom has a lot of snow. I was going to originally go with chocolate lilies, but then I looked at the two and realized that their kid would probably have white hair, whereas chocolate lilies are a dark brown, so I went with snowdrops instead

Snowdrop:

I’m gonna be completely honest, I think I should have spent more time on her design. I’m not too satisfied with it, and honestly I think I kind of rushed it, just because I had some ideas for her today. Her hair’s…good I suppose, and I definitely plan on keeping the eye shape. I added the black streaks so she’d bear more resemblance to her father. I was also debating between a bun or a ponytail, but my friend said ponytail was better, so I did that. Originally I planned to have her hair all down, but I couldn’t get it to look right. But as for her outfit, I really didn’t think about it as much as I should have. I wanted to incorporate snowdrops into her design, but I couldn’t figure out how, so I sort of gave her a cloak/scarf that resembles it, and then I just came up with something random for the rest of it that looked like the rest of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, since that’s where she lives. And as for the colors, I just sort of went with whatever random thing I could think of, mainly just giving her White Lily’s colors

Yeah, I definitely think I’m gonna redesign her and give her more time to actually be fleshed out in my head. I’ll probably draw her more as I flesh her out

Also technically what you see here isn’t what she looks like in “current day” Kingdom. This is her when she’s around 20 or so. In current day, she’s more around her mid 40s (though granted I’m not sure how to portray that), but we’ll get to that

So as for her character, so I was going to say that nothing much had changed since I talked about her this morning, and that I hadn’t fleshed her out at all, but while making this post I took a break and started thinking of her more. So what I say may not be accurate to the picture shown

Anyways, so the things I said before still apply. Snowdrop is the princess of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and is Dark Choco’s older half sister. Though their age gap is a lot bigger than the other half siblings I’ve made for him (at least for now, I think the affocao one is going to have them beat out), with her being around 15 years older, or whatever Cookie terms that applies to, since she would have been around pre Dark Enchantress, but Dark Choco would be very young at the time of the Dark Flour War, which from what I understand has a few centuries in between them. But whatever, the timeline of Cookie Run is weird. Let’s just say she’s 15 years older and move on

So with this large age gap, while yes she was close to her little brother, she tended to be closer to a babysitter than just an older sister, given she’d be an adult by the time he’s like 3. Given Dark Choco had very little frame of reference for sibling relationships, he never saw this as weird

Anyways so let’s move on to Snowdrop on her own. …Okay I’ll be honest, I don’t have much on her personality other than she’s sweet and a bit timid at times. I think I’m also going to keep the aspect that she helped with the physicians in the Citadel, possibly learning parts of their trade. However, don’t take her somewhat meek appearance as a sign she’s not a threat, she’s still a Dark Cacao warrior, and one trained by Dark Cacao at that. She’s absolutely nasty with a dagger, her preferred weapon of choice. Also, she’s not short, not by a long shot, with her height rivaling that of her father, meaning she towers over most people. She’s just a bit lanky

Anyways, so one day, back when Dark Choco was young, around 5 or so (but after White Lily disappeared), Snowdrop suddenly disappeared without a trace, and she hasn’t been seen since. The last person to see her was Dark Choco, where the previous night, he had gone out of his room for a glass of milk, only to see Snowdrop sneaking through the halls wrapped in a cloak. He asked where she was going and she said she was just planning on going out for a little evening stroll outside the castle. She helped him get his glass and tucked him back in bed, telling him to keep her walk a little secret between him, before kissing him goodnight. The morning after, no one could find him. Eventually after a few days, Dark Choco felt bad and that maybe something had happened, and told his dad that she said she had gone out for a walk, but still no trace of her could be found. No one knows why she left, but Dark Cacao can’t help but blame himself (also in truth I haven’t figured out why she left either. Maybe something to do with her mom. I just wanted her to be missing). If she ever returns, and especially after the incident with Dark Choco, Dark Cacao will keep his gates open

I may end up drawing her post-disappearance, but I haven’t decided

But yeah, that’s Snowdrop. Definitely feel like I should have spent more time on her, but I hope you still like her regardless

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #white lily cookie #cacaolily #cookie run oc #fankid #fanchild #snowdrop cookie #my ocs #my art #requests #answers

[eternally-smitten]

A Little Nervous

summary: Finally, Jimmy works up the nerve to ask Natalie out on a first date. Unfortunately, his nerves get the best of him during said date.

word count: ~ 1.5k

author's note: I've been feeling this need to write while on break from commissions but my mind has been blank with ideas. My friend gave me this idea for an awkward first date and I took it and ran

“Hey, are you free Friday?” Jimmy asked suddenly, slapping his palms against the front desk.

Natalie blinked a few times, “Whatever happened to ‘Good morning! How are you? It’s so good to see you!’, hmm?”

“Fine, fine,” He took a breath, “Hiya! Good morning, my most favoritest secretary in the whole wide universe! How are you? Yadda, yadda, are you free Friday?”

“That’s better.” She smirked up at him, “If you’re talking about tomorrow, then yes. I’m free after work. Why?”

His clumsy hands fiddled with his tie, “Well, uh, I was wondering if we should maybe have dinner tomorrow night? Just you and me?”

Natalie paused and tilted her head, “You mean like a date?”

“Is that what they call it?” Jimmy joked, laughing nervously, “But, yeah. Yeah, like a date. So…whaddya say?”

A very subtle, soft pink tint dusted her cheeks as she smiled at him, “I say that I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that for a very, very long time, James.”

“Really?” He swallowed an anxious lump that was sitting in his throat, “So, is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes.”

“Great!” He exclaimed a little too loudly. It turned some heads in the quiet law firm. Jimmy gave Natalie a sheepish smile after his voice echoed and then whispered, “I’ll pick you up then, yeah? How does 8:00 sound? That’s the time that all the movies pick.”

“Oh, and we must follow those cheesy rom coms to a T, right?” She giggled, “8:00 words just fine for me.”

He nodded, “Then I’ll see you at 8:00.”

“See you then, James.”

Jimmy smiled and spun around to exit the building. He realized a little too late that he actually didn’t have a plan for the next day, but figured that it wouldn’t be that difficult to come up with something. He also bet everything he had on hoping that the nerves in his system would fizzle out when dinner came. But, he chose to focus on what he wanted to wear instead of that for the time being. He was sure everything would smooth over as soon as they went out.

~

Friday evening finally rolled around. The entire day, Jimmy anxiously checked his watch every two minutes in hopes that it would suddenly fast forward six hours. When it was finally time to go, he didn’t hesitate to rush out to his old, beat up car to go grab her. He was convinced that he broke several traffic laws on the ride over to Natalie’s apartment building with how fast he was driving. This date was just that important to him. Once he arrived at her building, his car screeched to a halt and lurched forward. Jimmy cursed his car under his breath as he waited for Natalie, silently worrying that she would judge his hunk of rusted metal with wheels. Not long after he parked, Natalie walked out her building and excitedly waved at him. She ran up, her heels clicking against the parking lot, and hopped in on the passenger side.

“Are you ready?” She asked, “I am.”

“Definitely.” He replied, his nerves definitely not fading away like he hoped.

She studied his outfit, “You look nice tonight.”

“Oh, this old thing? Thanks. I wanted to leave a good impression but I can only do so much with my closet.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re not dressing up like a Dr. Seuss character anymore.”

“What? I thought you liked that peach suit!” He feigned heartbreak, “I even picked that out special for you. Maybe I should’ve worn that instead.”

Natalie laughed and tapped his arm, “Excuse me, I don’t want people thinking I’m going out with a hotdog! I’m grateful for you putting together an actually nice outfit for me.”

He took his eyes off the road to look at her briefly, “You look nice yourself. You look like a fancy Hollywood starlet.”

She smoothed down her dainty light colored dress, “Why, thank you! I’ll be honest with you, I just about tore down my whole closet to find something suitable enough for a first date.”

“Well, it’s more than suitable!” Jimmy commented, “Having such a pretty girl in my car is making me nervous.”

“Oh, shush! Flatterer.” Natalie shushed him and nervously toyed with her dress.

“What? It’s true!” He pulled into the restaurant he picked out at the last minute and parked the car, “Now, I know this isn’t a red carpet but I hope this dinner will be fancy enough for you.”

“Anywhere with you would be perfect.” She stepped out of the car and cracked her knuckles. 

Jimmy hopped out of his side and rushed over to her, extending his arm out, “Now, allow me to escort you to our five star meal! Meaning I found the closest restaurant that didn’t have a rating of two stars or lower.”

Natalie locked her arm with his and laughed, “Wow, you did your homework for this! I’m impressed, James.”

“Should I be offended at that?”

“Well, you’ve been known to cut corners.”

“Not when it comes to charming the ladies!” Jimmy held the door open for her and followed her inside, “You make it sound like I’m too lazy for my own good!”

“I never said you were lazy.” She replied, letting him lead her to their table, “I merely mentioned the fact that you tend to find…creative solutions to the problems you face at work. If anything, that means you work harder than someone a little more honest.”

He took a seat in front of her and fixed his tie, “As long as you’re not calling me lazy.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They then quietly studied the menus before a waiter came by to ask for drinks. Jimmy jumped on the chance to order red wine for the both of them, desperate to not seem cheap. Before their glasses arrived, they engaged in some light chit chat because that was all Jimmy could handle at the moment without stuttering like a madman. He mentally kicked himself for it, but Natalie found it endearing.

“Ah, thanks!” Jimmy squeaked when they were served their wine. 

“I never took you as a red wine drinker.” She took a slow sip of hers, “But, I’m pleased to know we have similar taste.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to pick something fancy.” He said, reaching for his. Only he miscalculated and knocked the glass over, getting wine all over the front of Natalie’s white dress. They both froze and went completely silent. Jimmy could only watch in horror as the wine dripped down her dress. Natalie winced a little at the uncomfortable feeling and pinched the front of her dress away from her so it didn’t cling.

“Oh, God,” He finally stuttered out, “I’m so sorry. Oh, God, fuck, let me just-shit!” Mortified, he tried to soak up the mess with the flimsy cloth napkin he found on the table. It was pointless, unfortunately, because her dress looked like she just slaughtered a cow no matter what he did. Jimmy continued to apologize over and over, his face burning with embarrassment. Of course, the one date he’s had in years that he’s been looking forward to and he messes it up instantly. There was no way she would agree to a second date.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Natalie started to laugh. He looked up at her, confused, and she grabbed his shoulder, “You didn’t tell me you were a fan of tie dye, either.”

“I’m sorry,” He sighed in defeat, “I wasn’t kidding when I said having a pretty girl so close to me made me nervous.”

She shrugged, “It’s okay. I can always get a new dress. I look a little silly, though.”

“Oh!” Jimmy stood up suddenly and threw his jacket off, “Maybe this can cover it up a bit.” He threw it around Natalie’s shoulders and retreated to his seat. 

She slipped her arms in the suit jacket and pulled it towards him, “Perfect. I was a little chilly anyway so this works out just fine.”

He chuckled sheepishly, “I’m uh, assuming you won’t wanna stay for dessert?”

“Of course I do!” 

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” He asked without thinking, “I mean, of course I want you to! But I mean, look at what I did to you.”

“Listen, first dates are always a little awkward in some way.” Natalie grinned, “This just makes for a good story.”

“I guess so.” Jimmy thought for a moment, “Did you mean it when you said you have been waiting for me to ask you out for a long time?”

She nodded, “Yes. I would’ve asked you out first if it weren’t for my nerves.”

“I can relate to that.” He pursed his lips, “I’m guessing I ruined our chances for a second date?”

“Not at all. I was actually going to ask you about that.”

“Really?” He asked again, dumbfounded, “Even after I turned your dress into a crime scene?”

She rubbed a sleeve of his jacket between her thumb and fingers, “I was thinking of seeing a movie, maybe. Then inviting you back to my place for dinner. Less pressure that way.”

“I like that. I like it a lot.”

“Next week?”

“Sure.”

“Great.” She smiled at their very brief deal, “I’ll see you then.”

Jimmy smiled back, feeling a little better now, “Yeah, and in that time, I’ll buy you a new dress.”

tag list: @liberty-city-ships @bobmckenzie @wanderers-wife @hollandmarchsdork @gideongrovel @cherrypieships @timelordgfreblogs @jasperskine @nonesenseships let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#my stuff ♡ #⚖ 〔guess i better call ya〕 #self ship fanfiction #ok to rb! #reblogs are appreciated

[villain-in-love]

@canarycurse Oh boy, now that you mentioned your other s/is, I'm curious about Azalea and Madeline and their relationship with their respective f/os. And maybe some more information about Kojiro and Tauro themselves since, unlike with Musashi, I don't know much about them.

Anyways, in return to Zeroes' statement about their Halloween "costumes", Nico would obviously be the one to bring up Addams family and others would have to censure him because of the copyright again.

Your Zero suddenly stopping answering Kiji's questions during the school event and everyone realizing that where she was sitting just now is already an empty space sounds very much like a canonical joke for Nanbaka. And it sure is unfortunate that she can’t dress up like everyone else, since it’s one of the rare instances in canon where characters had a chance to wear something different from their usual outfits. I’m still curious what you Zero would have worn if she could change clothes, though.

Finding other "emotion ghosts" of the same person is a sensible suggestion, especially if your Zero wants to get more knowledge about her existence, but I don’t think tracking them down would be an easy task. Obviously, she would need to find the original source first and question her, and then she would have to take on a role of a detective and go investigating all the places where others first appeared... Or maybe you already have better ideas on how to find them?

I think your idea of your Zero’s introduction to the plot is a solid one (ha), she would do well getting established as a reoccurring character from the start and something of a local myth that is very much the truth. And with her knowing other characters that would make appearances later, she could easily drop some “easter eggs” here and there.

By the way, since he’s also one of the main characters, what does Hajime thinks about your Zero and her hanging out around his building?

Okay, giving my answers to your questions (which include some of my own questions):

About Trois, Honey, and their favourite underwear question:

For a few seconds Zero looked genuinely thoughtful. The next thing she said was: “You know, in a neighbourhood I was taught that I can and should beat people up for questions like these…” After hearing this, all characters who were near rushed in to save Trois and Honey, asking if they have a death wish.

Obviously, Zero couldn’t be actually bothered by questions like these, she was just wondering about the implications and what it says about Honey’s and Trois’s personalities. Though she still considered the option of beating them up for fun and then using their question as a justification. Really, she’s always just waiting for a good excuse to get violent.

About extra chapters with school event:

Zero does have some academic knowledge and there are subjects she’s genuinely good at – literature, biology, math, psychology, even history, when it comes to the culture and not political dates and events. But it would be objectively funnier to see her answer questions she’s not qualified to answer.

There’s an idea of her giving ridiculous answers when talking about geography. Because she wasn’t planning on travelling abroad any time soon (well, she kinda did anyway, but getting transported to jail doesn’t count), she didn’t bother to learn much about geography and only has some vague understanding based on someone’s personal stories or mentions from books. And once again, outdated information. “Ah yes, the Ottoman Empire, I remember it was there.” “And this must be Речь Посполитая – my old friend used to live there…” “Wait, Singapore is actually a country and not a city? It's so tiny, why is this a country and not a city?”

OR she might give disturbingly accurate answers in anatomy. I imagine, when asked about how organs work as a system, she will give a very detailed answer, even starting to draw a scheme on a blackboard. Then she realizes that she’s bad at drawing, so she will drag someone (for some reason I imagine it either being Honey or Nico) from their desk and in front of the “class”, swiftly ripping the shirt off them and putting a claw to their abdomen, being like: “It can get a little bloody and I can only show this once, so look carefully.” At this point she would have to get dragged away by guards who are responsible for her.

I also jumped on the opportunity to give her some new outfits, because I love giving my OCs extensive wardrobes:

She could have rocked that black-and-red sailor uniform look. Might even paint the tips of her claws red.

Or she could have gone another route and dressed up in classic "white top, black bottoms" look. Thought if she was to wear a short skirt Kiji would have to remind her to sit "properly" every so often.

"I know you said it doesn’t really fill her up but does she have a favourite human food?"

Here's the biggest difference between me and Zero: she’s not a picky eater. So even if she does have some preferences, she can eat almost anything, and I mean it. Anything.

But I guess her favourite food is pancakes with meat – as in regular thin pancakes with meat wrapped into it. Her Grandma used to make pancakes with human meat, so those were obviously the best, but animal meat is fine too. (In reality I hate pancakes that aren't sweet, but I figured that Zero would like it)

Zero also likes aforementioned sushi rolls and always throws absolutely ungodly amounts of wasabi into the soy sauce. She’s quite fond of desserts as well, for example, some belgian waffles with ice cream and several other toppings sound good.

I must note that Zero generally prefers bigger and heartier dishes – I mean, she's capable of consuming several adult human bodies in one sitting, so if it’s some light snack she might not even notice eating it.

As a bonus: Her favourite human body parts to eat are hearts and the meat from the thighs, and the spinal column is the best to crunch on. Her least favourite part is intestine – she can eat a human whole, but she often leaves those untouched, which used to really confuse police at some point.

"Could I ask her impressions of any other members of the cast?"

When it comes to other Nanbaka characters who aren’t Jyugo or Liang, Zero doesn’t hold any particularly strong opinions. She’s fine with almost everyone, as long as they provide a good show for her. But I can comment on several character specifically:

Uno – she quickly identified him as the brain, the leader, and the mom of the group. He obviously cares about Jyugo a lot, and for that she’s somewhat thankful to him. She finds his obsession with being the prettiest and most popular with girls laughable, but overall he left a good impression. (Uno himself is still trying to recover from the sight of Zero eating the guards)

Much to Liang’s and Upa’s confusion, Zero genuinely likes and admires Qi. She sees him as an intelligent and sensible person with whom they can easily understand each other, and while she finds the situation of Liang and Upa constantly berating and blaming him for everything wrong with the world funny in its ridiculousness, she majorly disagrees with their opinion. Qi is also the reason she finally took interest and started learning chemistry.

I think that Zero is likely to get along well with Man with the Scar aka Mashiro in the future and get invested in experiments his organisation conducts. She also would be highly impressed by the schemes his team pulled, like the way they sabotaged Enki or set up other people to confront Jyugo and Zakuro to make the two stronger (while putting Elf inside them as a the kind of "safety catch" to ensure that they use their powers when needed and don't die)

Out of the staff she likes Mitsuru the most – he’s chill and easy-going, brings lively and chaotic atmosphere everywhere he goes, and while it could have been easy to view him as another moron, she gets an impression that despite his eccentric behaviour, this guy always knows exactly what he’s doing. So I think they would be on pretty good terms.

Zero doesn't have anything against Kiji, but as someone who does (surprisingly) take interest and is somewhat knowledgeable about fashion herself, she doesn't quite understand Kiji's decisions when it comes to the colour scheme of his outfits. (And makeup. And hair.)

Hajime reminds Zero a bit of russian gopniks, which is funny. While Hajime dislikes Zero for several reasons, she herself couldn’t care less about it – she’s fond of him simply because he’s very fun to observe, especially when Cell 13 is involved.

Yamato and Seitaro are labelled as "Idiot No.1" and "Idiot No.2" in her mind. Not that she actually dislikes them, but they make her question the quality of the guard selection for this prison.

It’s incredibly rare for Zero to actively dislike someone, but she would have preferred to stay away from Ahato. She happened to visit Building 3 once, for educational purposes, and she does not want to deal with cosmetics and restrictive clothes again – it’s impractical and you can’t possibly expect her to care about not ruining her makeup or be careful to not tear clothes. He almost makes her regret agreeing to never use any force against staff members again. (And she's not pleased with Kiji for supporting all of this.)

When it comes to other people who didn't leave the best of impressions, she would have loved to pick apart Honey’s brain. It’s one of the rare instances when someone’s peculiar temper doesn’t entertain her, but instead makes her question “what is his problem”. She would also prefer if he dropped the act of being a gentleman, she can already smell acting from miles away. Though she is curious about those threads/strings of his, it’s mechanics and techniques of using them. Well, there's at least one thing Honey is good for, and it's making Liang lose his temper – Zero finds their squabbles to be awfully fun to watch.

She’s not impressed with Shin at all and she found it amusing to spoil his mood whenever she had to deal with him.

Also Zero and Dread tried to kill each other several times. Dread is highly irritated by Zero as a person, while Zero considers her to be a nuisance and can't for the life of her understand Dread's devotion to Shin.

#s/i: no.“00”

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 4 ♫ “New Start (Part 1)” [ 4.01A ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

NICE TO MEET YA, WHAT’S YOUR NAME? — Isadora and Nigel’s expectations for NYU face reality, while Riley battles expectations closer to home. Farkle, Zay, and Jade brave new worlds of their own and test their resolve. Entirely new faces bring brand new narratives, and everyone confronts the question essential to college, career, and the rest of your life: who are you? And perhaps more important, who are you going to be?

73 Minutes (36K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Summer Of ‘21 ] [ S4 Synopsis ] [ New Start (Part 2) → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Close on our ever-familiar moodboard, populated with photos of our beloved main cast, Adams souvenirs, and the usual creative inspirations (right now, it’s populated with Sara Bareilles and Aly & AJ, among others).

RILEY MATTHEWS passes by it in a flurry, gathering things together in preparation for the impending week. She seems excitable rather than anxious, with just a hint of nerves, but ultimately her mood is buoyant. She places a potential outfit on the bed, assesses it, then changes her mind and doubles back to the closet.

Riley: Dora? Dora!

She heads to the door, zooming by the calendar on the wall. As we zoom in close, the reason for all the commotion becomes quite clear. A date circled multiple times over in purple, only a weekend left preceding it:

First Day of College!!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley spills out of her room, finding ISADORA DE LA CRUZ seated on the couch with headphones on. Working on a final film viewing for a class – trying to get as much done ahead of time as possible.

Riley: Dora. Isadora. Dooora. [ louder ] Isa!

Isadora jumps, double-taking when she realizes Riley is standing there waiting for her.

Isadora: What?

Riley: Have you seen Lucas’s blue flannel anywhere?

Isadora: Why would I have seen it? 

Riley: It’s the dark blue one. You know, with the worn cuffs?

Isadora: Aren’t they all like that? He only owns like two kinds of shirt.

Riley sighs, slipping into the kitchen to grab some water. Prepping for the beginning of the rest of your life is thirsty work!

Riley: I was thinking I’d wear it on the first day. You know, for comfort, on multiple levels, but also it’s cute if you repurpose it. You know, a bit of a DIY, casual vibe.

Isadora: Right. Sure.

Riley: But maybe it’s too early for that. I don’t want to be the girl walking into class like “hey, I have a boyfriend,” you know? [ turning off the faucet ] Though maybe that wouldn’t be a bad message to send, actually. Not that I’m expecting like, copious suitors.

Isadora: Right. Sure.

Clearly, after three months of living together, Isadora has learned sometimes it’s better to just let Riley talk.

Riley: But at the same time… no. No, I feel like I should go slightly more professional for the first day. Especially the major classes. You know what, I’ll just wear the flannel on Saturday. Although I still have to find it first –

Isadora: Sounds good.

Riley: You remember the plans for Saturday, right? Everyone, Chubbies, one last hurrah.

Isadora: Yeah, of course. Not like you would let me forget.

Riley gives her a playful glare, which Isadora matches with a wry smile.

Riley: I mean, won’t quite be the same without everyone there, but – oh! That totally reminds me, I need to text Farkle. He’s had his first week and I’m dying to know how it went. [ offhandedly ] I mean, I’m sure he’s told you all about it, but don’t tell me. I want to hear it for myself.

Isadora: … right. For sure.

Riley rushes back to her room, still muttering about outfits and flannels, leaving Isadora alone. She reaches for her phone and unlocks it, going to her messages and scrolling a bit…

To where she finally finds her thread with Farkle. And by the looks of it, no, Isadora is not up to speed on what’s going on with him. In fact, it seems like they haven’t talked in days, Farkle having sent the most recent text over two weeks ago. One that Isadora forgot to answer in the moment that now feels way too old to address.

That does pose the question, though – how is Farkle doing? As the first brave warrior to embark on a collegiate quest, and three-thousand miles across the country at that?

INT. USC - FILM LECTURE HALL - DAY

A dramatic orchestral opening floats in, setting up the elite, extravagant world of USC. It seems quite serious and important, a darkened screening room lit only by the lights of a projector and populated by shadows of students as a bespectacled, important-looking professor lectures on about something filmic and oh so serious.

That is, until we find FARKLE MINKUS at the center of the seats. The reflection of whatever’s on the screen illuminates his face in pale light, highlighting his blank expression. It’s hard to tell what it is exactly – boredom? Irritation? Nothing at all?

The actual opening of the looming performance disrupts all the above, matching Farkle’s ennui and throwing us right into reality.

I want it to be like, messy!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “brutal” as performed by Olivia Rodrigo || Performed by Farkle Minkus

The classroom lights come on as the lecture ends and the grungy guitar begins, Farkle rising from his seat and making a swift escape as the other students filter out. Right before the verse kicks off, he pushes through the doors –

EXT. USC - FILM SCHOOL - DAY

And into the immaculately cared-for campus, bright L.A. sunshine seeming almost oppressive with the current mood. Farkle launches bluntly into the song, singing almost entirely and somewhat unsettlingly to the camera in an unconventional fourth-wall break. Perhaps because he’s very much baring his soul, wiping the concept of a perfect, cheery first week of college right off the map.

On the lines about “I’m so caught up in the news of who likes me and who hates you,” he looks to his phone, scrolling through his messages app. Maya’s name is right at the top, Isadora’s much further down where his texts remain unanswered.

EXT. USC - BING THEATER - DAY

On the chorus, Farkle takes to the courtyard outside Bing and Norris theater, dancing a precarious line along the edge of the fountain at the center as he belts out the lines. In contrast to the familiar cocoon of Adams, no one seems to pay Farkle’s dramatic monologuing any mind – in fact, it’s like he’s not even there, normal USC students making their way along around and behind him as he jumps along the edge of the fountain.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS - DAY

For the second verse, Farkle continues his stare down of the camera while walking along Trousdale, the main fairway for cross-campus trekking at USC. He swerves to avoid other students, speeders on skateboards and ruthless bicyclists, like he’s totally invisible. Just another speck in a student body of over forty-thousand.

Somehow, it’s when you’re least noticeable that it feels like your insecurities are most on display for the world to see.

The second chorus is split between the fountain and Trousdale, splitting back-and-forth in a near disorienting degree. Farkle split between trying his best to blend in and keep it all in, to appear totally unbothered, and spilling his emotional guts all over campus in the free-wheeling style he’s so used to.

All this is abruptly interrupted when he’s literally barreled into by a bicyclist, knocking him off his feet and sending his phone flying across Trousdale and cracking on the concrete. Farkle doesn’t even seem surprised, only slightly dazed and remarkably deadpan when he sits upright and looks dead at the camera.

God! It’s brutal out here.

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

Farkle jumps off the fountain’s edge and marches his way towards Bing Theatre, the same one he and Maya snuck into in the special. He darts up the steps as the grunge rock carries us home, slowly devolving back into the eerie orchestration again…

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle makes it in time for his second class of the day, one of his theater classes, just as the song winds to an end. He finds a seat in the center of the section, isolation emphasized by the other pockets of peers seated around him yet nowhere close. He sings the last few lines while looking around him, confessing to his broken ego and broken heart – for any number of reasons – and then he lets his flat expression drift back towards the camera, singing right at us.

God, I don’t even know where to start…

Thankfully, Farkle, we do. And boy, is there a lot of story to tell. Welcome, my dear friends, to AMBITION Season 4.

Cue title sequence.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Even if she’s not yet also in class, Riley seems to be busy as ever. She has her phone pressed to her ear as she reenters the apartment with a tote bag full of groceries.

Riley: So you’re going to be there? It’s only going to be fun if everyone is there. I know weekend before classes start, everyone is a little bit ah, but I just think –

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

Reclined on his bed, NIGEL CHEY smiles in amusement at Riley’s babbling. He tosses a hacky sack with one hand while they chat.

Nigel: Yes, Riley, I’ll be there. It’s not like showing up to Chubbies, the place we all congregated for four straight years, is asking much of us.

Riley: And Jade too, right? I know she’s busy –

Nigel: Yes, Jade too. You caught her on a weekend and planned this weeks in advance, so you hit the two criteria necessary to secure her attendance. It’ll probably be the first time most of you have seen her since, what, July?

Riley: I know the apprenticeship is keeping her busy, and with good reason. I don’t want to step on that.

Nigel manages a smile at that, but it’s slightly dimmer than before.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley continues her explanation as she starts to unload groceries.

Riley: I just feel like, you know, this is our last weekend. Before everything… takes off. And I know it’s not like that makes much of a difference, we’re still in the same city and will see each other plenty – especially you, me, and Dora, since we’re going to the same school.

Nigel: You might get sick of me, yes.

Riley: Not possible.

Nigel: Ask Zay and Yindra, I’m sure they can attest.

Riley: [ with an eye roll ] The point is, I think we should be together. One last time before all this stuff really gets going. I know like, so much of our usual circle is already scattered, but for those of us that are still here…

It would be nice to hold onto what’s left. To solidify their bond to one another by coming together to celebrate, one more time. Nigel has no arguments about that, thanking Riley for taking the initiative as always. He’s looking forward to seeing everyone Saturday night.

Riley exchanges chipper goodbyes with Nigel and then hangs up, finishing putting the groceries away before she shifts focus. If they truly are going to be seeing “everyone,” or as many everyones as they can manage given the current state of affairs, there’s still a few people left to confirm their attendance…

One of whom she wishes felt more guaranteed than it does. She’s clicked into her message thread with Lucas, where the exchanges are relatively sparse and almost always brief. Mainly quick updates about his whereabouts or when he’s supposedly going to be back – informational with little embellishment, but one can assume they simply talk more in person.

Of course, that only happens when he’s actually there. Riley chews her lip and types out a new text, not having had an update for the last couple of days.

“Everything okay? Are you going to be there tmrw night? Love you”

Riley hesitates, starting to delete the last phrase… but then she opts to keep it. How things are going these days, she figures a reminder never hurts – if not for him, then for her. That it’s okay for her to keep affirming it, that what the two of them share isn’t a cause or casualty of the way things are right now.

She hits send, already impatiently waiting for a response.

Shawn, pre-lap: So we’re just going to do nothing?

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

It’s remarkable how time marches on. The only remnants of our beloved A class who once so dominated the halls are the senior showdown trophy in the display case, and their freshman year class portrait hanging on the main wall amidst dozens of others. While their frames were damaged last year during the vandalism, they’re back in pristine condition now, hung proudly for anyone who enters the school to see.

It’s strange to see versions of our kiddos so young and fresh-faced arranged along the atrium staircase, considering how much they’ve grown since then.

But now, they’re just decoration – the background set dressing to the new Adams students roaming the halls. The current student body is making its way through the doors at the end of the school day, having officially wrapped up their first week of the new academic year.

ERIC MATTHEWS is posted outside the main office, waving goodbye to the students and congratulating them on a great first week. He’s all smiles, but just barely, as SHAWN HUNTER irritably breathing down his neck with an obvious axe to grind is really harshing Eric’s whole got-everything-under-control-as-new-principal vibe. He murmurs through his smile.

Eric: Can we talk about this later?

Shawn: Sure. Absolutely. Not like it’s already been a clusterfuck long enough. [ after a beat; checking his fake watch ] Okay, it’s later.

Eric’s smile sharpens, and the side-eye glare he shoots him could kill. It’s a look Jack would be impressed with, particularly directed at his half-brother.

Eric: Remind me why I haven’t fired you yet.

Shawn holds his glare, unperturbed. Clearly, he’s not backing down on this discussion.

Eric sighs, offering one more wave to the students before spinning on his heel and heading back to his office. Shawn follows swiftly.

INT. AAA - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

It’s not just the slug line here that’s getting a change. The principal’s office looks different than we last saw it, an evolving hybrid of Eric’s former counselor’s office and the heightened grandeur and professionalism of the highest leadership role in the land. It’s also half-finished, Eric still in the process of getting everything organized how he wants it – partially because he’s still figuring that out for himself.

HARPER BURGESS makes her way past the office after collecting things from her faculty mailbox just as Eric and Shawn are coming in. She offers Eric bright congratulations for surviving his first week as principal and doing a great job. Eric thanks her, but the cheer only lasts as long as the time it takes for Eric to get to his desk.

Shawn: What is wrong with you?

Eric: You know, you’re bold, Shawn. Most employees with your performance record wouldn’t have the gall to question someone else’s sanity or ability. Didn’t you hear how nice Harper was just now? Why can’t you be more like Harper?

Shawn: Come on, Eric, cut the crap. Let’s actually talk about this, yeah? I want you to explain why you’re vetoing a perfectly good idea.

Eric sighs, falling back into his chair. He lets Shawn roll, gesturing for him to go on. And he does, fully serious without a hint of irony or sarcasm.

Shawn’s suggestion is simple and compelling – offer Lucas a part-time job at Adams while he’s in this in-between situation, just while he gets back on his feet and waits out the Kenneth situation. It’ll give him another way to make an income, and more importantly, it’ll give him a place to be and something to do. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, and they have the power and means to help keep Lucas off that path.

Shawn: You’ve heard what Riley and Isadora have said. You know Lucas just as well as I do. He’s adrift. He’s stranded without a tether to pull him back down to Earth, while everyone else gets to go off and start something new. It’s dangerous to be adrift, Eric – I would know that better than anyone.

Eric nods, conceding that point. Sad as it is, it’s true.

Shawn: So I’m saying, let’s give him that tether. Let’s give him a space to balance while he reorients. Just like we did for me, when I needed it.

Eric: You’re basically still reorienting, Shawn.

Shawn: He needs stability. He needs a reason to show up, for anything, and more than that, he needs money. Because when all this is done, whether Kenneth croaks or not –

Eric: Please, let’s not…

Shawn: [ carrying on ] He’s going to Davis. We’re getting him there hell or high water, and he’s going to need money when he does. So the solution seems obvious to me. If we give him a place here, then that’s two birds, one stone.

Clearly, Eric sees this logic. He sees it, and doesn’t disagree… but still, he hesitates.

Eric: We still have the board on our backs. Now that Graham has basically instituted unofficial oversight over everything under the guise of “vetting the new administration” –

Shawn: Fascists.

Eric: I don’t think they’re going to go for this idea. It’s been hard enough trying to pick a replacement for me that they’ll sign off on. And you know how they feel about Lucas, which is very close to how they feel about Jack. If he wants even a chance of picking up Morris’s seat when he gets back –

Shawn: Fuck that. If it helps Lucas, Jack would want you to do it. You know he would.

Hard to argue with that. Eric knows he can’t.

Eric: Have you told him about it? Any of Lucas’s –

Shawn: Hell no. Jack’s supposed to be on vacation. He hears about this, you know he’s taking the first plane back. No sense getting him all stressed out any earlier than necessary.

That, Eric easily seconds. But without Jack’s knowledge, the hard choices remain up to him…

Eric: He might not even want it. Lucas couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Shawn: Then he doesn’t take it. Fine. At least we’ll have offered. [ sincere ] At least we’ll have done something.

And something is a whole lot better than nothing. Eric absorbs that, thoughtful, torn between the compassionate instincts of his former role and the new requirements of strategy and logic that come with his new one. Especially now that he is the one who has to call the shots.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Farkle returns from class, pausing in the entryway as he catches a whiff of something strong. It’s a bit hazy in the apartment too… and there’s a weird sort of humming…

Of course, there’s only one obvious explanation.

MAYA HART is in zen mode, a couple of candles and incense burning around her makeshift yoga studio in the middle of their compact living area. She’s dressed in a cute sports bra and baby pink leggings, signature glossy blonde hair tied up in a ballerina bun. The strange humming is coming from her, as rather than meditation, she’s basically humming scales as she does yoga poses on her pink mat. It’s kind of like… diva honing, and she participates in it with much aplomb and concentration.

She seems to have adapted to L.A. without a hitch – at least the guru culture lifestyle. It’s clearly not the first time she’s done this, as Farkle doesn’t appear at all fazed.

Farkle: I see we’re channeling again. What’s the scent this time… is that… Spears sandalwood? Or no [ sniffing pointedly ] Val vanilla, more like –

Maya: Shh… Farkle… your aura is so erratic. You’re disrupting the flow.

The flow of what, no one could probably say. But Farkle relents, raising his hands in surrender and dropping his bag by the door. Maya gracefully lowers herself into a backbend.

Farkle: Apologies, I can’t help myself. I was born this way –

Farkle jumps when Maya suddenly lets out a high-pitched trill, blowing air through her lips as she changes positions. So apparently, this weird routine she has going on involves other vocal exercises as well. She’s collapsed herself onto the mat and has rolled back into a sitting position, beckoning for Farkle to join her.

Maya: What you need is a cleanse. Come, come.

Farkle rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile on his face. He dutifully comes and joins Maya on the mat, settling into a cross-legged position across from her. She leads him in a deep inhale, then an exhale… before starting to guide him in some sort of bizarre imitation exercise. Like, they’re basically doing the age-old theater class thing of mirroring, only on a yoga mat as if its some sort of sacred practice.

You have to give Farkle credit for playing along – no one can humor Maya Hart’s brand of theatrical quite like him.

Farkle: Is there a reason for this Mayoga session?

Maya: We’re on weekend lockdown, darling. This weekend, it’s all about honing, honing, honing. Mind, body, vocal chords –

Farkle: Technically part of the body, I think…

Maya: And soul. Because next week, everything changes.

This is because, as she goes on to explain, the time has finally come to debut Maya Hart to the world – or at least, Hollywood. She’s got a whole slate of auditions, open calls, and potential meetings lined up, and she knows one of them is bound to hold her great start. She’s rested and recharged, and now she’s ready to break out diva Maya again and take this town by storm.

Some of these auditions, we learn, she caught wind of… by aggressively bothering the agency where Jonathan Turner works. Farkle frowns, shaking his head as he allows Maya to cross their arms around each other.

Farkle: You really should not be doing that. You’re going to get me blackballed just for knowing you.

Maya: Listen, if they don’t want me calling, then they should get a new front desk assistant. By the time I was on my third call, she was very nice, and told me everything I needed to know. If they’re so concerned about protecting their potential projects from determined talent, then they should put better protocols in place. No one in this industry ever got anywhere by waiting around.

Farkle: Make sure to tell the security guards that when they drag you off whichever studio lot you stake out first.

Maya: And it’s all about who you know – which, thankfully, I know you. And you know this agency, which is more than enough for me to work with.

Yeah, suppose that’s true… though it might feel more like it if Farkle felt like he actually knew them. He reached out to Turner a week or so ago, before he started classes, but he’s yet to hear anything back.

Maya: I wouldn’t worry. One week is nothing in L.A. time.

Farkle: Yeah… yeah, I know. I just…

Worry he might have staked his whole future on a potential partnership that may have already evaporated? Well, too late to worry about that now. Maya waves off his concern, picking away at the air around him as if she’s removing the pests from his aura. Then another deep breath… she places her hands on his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

Maya: Stand tall, Farkle. You and me, we’re going to get everything we want.

It’s at least nice, amidst all the change, to have his weirdo best friend by his side reminding him of that. Farkle manages a smile, exhaling with her. Besides, as Maya points out, they’re doing everything right. And they’re doing it with style – in this industry, certainly, it could always be worse.

INT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

Depending on your definition of worse, that might just be where YINDRA AMINO is languishing these days. She’s working another shift at the musical diner, right now swamped with the busy lunch rush. These days, she’s actually spending more time there than out on the streets booking gigs.

And it shows. Yindra seems bone tired as she takes another order and breezes her way back towards the kitchen, customer service smile dropping from her face the moment she’s turned away from the table she’s working. It’s odd, seeing her usual radiant visage so dimmed.

At least it’s almost break time. Yindra checks the clock, then exhales in relief, pushing through the employees only door.

INT. PERFORMING DINER - BREAK ROOM - DAY

Yindra opens her locker, carefully extracting a couple of items for break. Notably, she leaves her phone, even though it’s lighting up with a couple of messages.

She closes the locker again, sending us into black –

EXT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

Until the bright L.A. sunshine brings us back, reflecting bright off the white pages of the notebook Yindra is scribbling in. Writing song lyrics, by the fragmented looks of it. Scraping together whatever she can in the fifteen minutes she gets during shifts – she’s usually too tired after work to get anything productive done.

She’s joined by her coworker, YOLANDA, who has become an ally over the last couple of months. She’s taking her break as well, doing the more classic overworked wannabe star routine of catching a smoke rather than jotting down meaningless words. Everyone copes in their own ways…

Yolanda asks her how it’s going, asking her to read something off the page she’s on now. Thought she seems a bit reluctant, Yindra obliges, offering up a couple of lines. Yolanda mulls them over, then offers some critique, suggesting a turn of phrase here and a tweak there to make it less overwrought. Yindra likes it and makes the change, thanking Yolanda for the feedback.

Yolanda: It’s what I was born to do, baby. I could’ve been the next Beyoncé, mark my words.

Yindra: I like the idea of it, but I’m really meant to be singing songs, not writing them. I’m not much of a lyricist.

Yet, here they both are, doing neither of those things. Not yet, at least – Yolanda claims there’s still plenty of time for Yindra. Based on Yindra’s half-hearted smile, it doesn’t feel that way.

Right now, they’re both out of time. It’s time to get back to work, the FRY COOK popping his head out to let them know break’s over.

Fry Cook: The Joneses are here for lunch. You know Harold isn’t going to let up until he gets his rendition of “Rock Around The Clock.”

Both women seem thrilled about that… Yindra tucks her pen back into her notebook and follows Yolanda back through the doors, back to the relentless grind of food service.

As a order-up bell dings –

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

It’s another coast, another day, a different diner, but same routine. Chubbies is busy with its Saturday morning rush, JOE shouting orders at people as he brushes past them doing his managerial business. He notices that the team seems a bit short-staffed this morning, though…

All it takes is a glance at the schedule on the bulletin board by the door to the break room to figure out who’s missing. And Joe almost didn’t need to look at the schedule to know – these days, if someone doesn’t show up, you only need one guess to figure out who.

Joe: Hey! Anybody heard from Friar?

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite the former inhabitant himself being dozens of miles upstate, Dylan’s room looks about the same as we last saw it – photos of Asher, the techies, and Riley stuck up on the wall; untidy and unmade bed; doodles and random sketches of potential vlog videos strewn on the desk. The only thing missing is the St. Bernard, Mr. Puff almost as palpable an absence as Dylan himself.

This time, though, the unmade bed isn’t his fault. It’s because it was just occupied, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR just finishing tucking some things back into his backpack and slinging it on his shoulder. Last night, the Orlando home seems to have been his refuge of choice.

He looks just about the same as the brief glimpses we got during the special, only now he’s at least shaved, so perhaps that’s some minuscule indicator of progress. And for as generally worn as he appears, the despair has trickled out of his features, so even if things haven’t improved much he must have accepted them.

Whether that’s for better or for worse remains to be seen. Lucas quietly steps out of the room.

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DAY

Lucas creeps his way down the hall towards the front door, slipping past the kitchen and living area. But he’s not nearly as invisible as he fancies himself – RANDALL ORLANDO pipes up from the kitchen where he’s washing dishes.

Randall: I know you’re not walking out of my house without taking some breakfast first.

There’s a pause… and then Lucas sheepishly reappears in the doorway to the kitchen. Got ‘em. He offers a timid smile as Randall gestures for him to take some of the food on the counter.

If you’re gonna squat in his home, gotta play by his rules. Lucas takes a piece of bacon and a buttered piece of toast, munching on the former while Randall asks how he slept last night. He knows he’s not there every night – though it’s evident he could be and Randall wouldn’t mind – but if there’s anything he wants or needs while here he should not hesitate to let him know.  

Unlikely Lucas is going to do that, but he does thank Randall for letting him crash. Randall waves it off, asking how things are going otherwise.

Randall: How’s your mom doing?

Lucas: Um… no yeah, she’s… she’s fine. Yeah. Bout – bout the same.

It’s unclear if Lucas is being wishy-washy and avoidant in his answer because he doesn’t really know, or doesn’t want to share, or if that’s just the way he talks. There’s an even chance of it being any or all of the above. But since most people don’t seem to know where he is at any given moment these days, it’s more than likely that means Grace hardly sees him at all.

Given who else is now back in their apartment, maybe that’s not so surprising. But Randall doesn’t push the subject, changing topics and asking what Lucas has on his agenda for today. Not just more roaming, hopefully… and yes, in fact, Lucas has plans.

Lucas: I should get to Chubbies – I’m already late, and Joe’s patience is only going to last so long. Then there’s like… I don’t know, Riley’s got some thing she wants to do, so. I’ll probably stay there tonight.

As long as he’s got a safe place to shelter, suppose that’s all you can ask for at this point. Lucas thanks Randall again and sneaks another piece of bacon before heading out. Randall watches him go... then grabs his phone to send a text.

The recipient is none other than Grace Friar, who seems to have a rather long ongoing chain with Randall even if the message content is pretty brief and a variation on the same handful of things:

“Lucas just left. Should be at Riley’s tonight.”

So even if Lucas isn’t very up to date on Grace, she apparently is on him.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Lucas makes his way down the streets of Chelsea, heading towards what is becoming an increasingly familiar apartment building. He hovers by the steps for a few moments until someone steps out of the building, waiting until they pass him and then just catching the front door before it closes and locks him out.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

He must have left Randall’s bright and early, because Riley is still dozing off. Someone, likely Isa, shouts from the living area for Riley to get up since she should be the one answering the door. Riley waves her off, brushing some hair out of her face but not making any actual moves to get up.

Riley: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m… awake…

Yeah, maybe not quite. Either way, she’s rather adorable half-asleep, which is clearly what Lucas thinks when he softly steps into the room and finds her still in bed. Not that he was really expecting otherwise, but the light smile on his face gives away his endearment regardless.

He carefully slips off his shoes and then comes to settle on the bed next to her. The shift in weight is enough to tip her off to his presence, a smile blooming even before she opens her eyes.

Riley: I hope that’s who I think it is, or else I’m going to have to break out the self-defense martial arts.

It’s obviously a joke, considering she’s more than used to his quiet comings and goings. Lucas shrugs.

Lucas: Maybe. I kind of want to see the martial arts though.

Riley giggles, lightly throwing an elbow back to jab him in the torso. He retorts by rolling closer and planting a quick kiss on her cheek over her shoulder, which is enough to win her over. Riley flips onto her other side so she can face him and opens her eyes, smile effortlessly bright at the privilege of getting to see him again. Lately, that’s not always a guarantee.

Riley: Hi.

Lucas: Morning. Sleep okay?

Riley: Not as good as I would have if you were here. [ off his eye roll ] But genuinely, kind of not really. I think it’s excitement insomnia. You know, two days left ‘til NYU, so I’m getting all jittery.

Lucas: No coffee today, then.

Riley: I was this way with Adams too. Like, first day of sophomore year. I think it’s just that with it being new and all it’s like there’s so many possibilities that my brain can’t sleep because it needs to process them all. The hypotheticals.

Lucas: I guess that’s fine. Better than being worried about it.

Riley: Yep. And you know what, Triple A turned out amazing and gave me all my favorite people – including my most wonderful boyfriend –

Lucas: Might be a bit of an exaggeration.

Riley: So I’m choosing to believe NYU will be the same. Only good things to come. So many new lovely people to become favorites.

Lucas: With you, I don’t doubt that. Though ideally not another boyfriend…

Riley gives him a look, lightly nudging him again before pulling him towards her and into a kiss. It lingers and melts into another one, languid and sweet – given that Lucas feels so hard to pin down these days, when she’s got him, Riley will take whatever she can get.

But based on how content she is to kiss him, yeah, the risk of another boyfriend entering the picture seems basically nonexistent.

Speaking of favorite people, Riley comments that she’s excited to be getting at least some of them together tonight before the chaos of a new school and semester consumes everyone and everything. She confirms that he’ll still be able to get them into Chubbies – which he agrees, noting that he needs to get going as he only stopped by on the way to the diner – and then follows up by asking for his attendance. He is going to be there with them, right? He’s not just going to set them up and then bounce?

Although it seems like socializing isn’t very high on Lucas’s to-do list right now (or ever, for that matter), after a moment he promises he’ll be there too. Given his flickering presence most days, it’s the least he could do.

And it clearly pleases Riley to hear it. She rewards him with another quick kiss, then sets him free to go stay out of the danger zone with Joe.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Isadora checks her appearance in the mirror hanging above her dresser. She frowns at her reflection as she tries to get her hair to sit right, but grows more and more frustrated as the strands of hair refuse to do what she wants. Her hair has been cut short, the longest of it reaching her jaw. She also has choppy bangs, and the top half of her hair is black while the bottom is deep green.

All the impending change makes Isadora want to have control over something in her life. Hair is the easiest (and theoretically, least catastrophic) thing she’s got.

From the open laptop on the desk comes the sound of a video call ring. Isadora darts over, a mix of nervous and excited. It’s the first time she’s actually seeing Chai since she left for London. They’d texted, of course, and sent voice messages when it was easier to talk than type, but no chance yet to talk face-to-face.

When Isadora accepts the call, CHAI FRESCO’s face appears on the screen. As soon as Isadora's video connects, Chai’s eyes go wide in surprise. 

Chai: Your hair!

Isadora: Oh, yeah… I cut it. Did I not show you before now?

Once Isadora had turned her head so that Chai can see the haircut from various angles, Chai compliments the new look. 

Chai: It really suits you! What inspired the sudden change?

Isadora: I just wanted a new look before the semester starts. 

Chai: Oh, yeah. That’s this week, right? [ off Isadora’s nod ] You must be so excited. I don’t start for another week or so. My summer course is finished now, too, so I’m just super bored. I can’t wait to start.

Isadora shares her own excitement about the upcoming week, explaining the film classes she’s going to be taking. Chai nods along, not particularly interested in all the nitty-gritty detail, but still fondly smiling at Isadora’s passion for the subject.

Upon realizing that she is talking a lot about herself, Isadora asks Chai how things are on the other side of the Atlantic. Chai talks about her roommate, who’s due to move in in a few days, and everything else that’s going on in her life, like new friends and the upcoming Freshers Week at her university. 

Chai: Anyway, enough college talk. How are things going with Maya? Are you still not talking?

Isadora grimaces at the topic, but allows it. Chai is one of the best people to vent about it with, since she’s one of the only people who doesn’t try to convince her to reach out and be forgiving -- all Eric and Riley seem able to advise. She knows in theory Lucas would be willing to listen to Isadora’s complaints about Maya, but he’s hardly around when she’s there to see it these days.

Chai, however, is more than willing to listen to Isadora’s grievances without telling her to “be the bigger person” and “let go of the anger.”

Isadora: I haven’t really been talking to Farkle either. It just feels really awkward and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him. 

Chai: I mean, you don’t have to talk about the Maya-shaped elephant in the room. You could just ignore it and talk like you would’ve if Maya hadn’t gone out there.

Isadora: That’s what we’re already doing, but it just feels off. Like, the Maya elephant is there, and ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. But we can’t talk about it either. I don’t want to make Farkle feel like he has to pick a side.

Chai: Maybe you should ask him how he feels about it all.

Isadora immediately shakes her head, strongly opposing the idea. Something within her doesn’t want to know how Farkle feels about it. What if he tells her she’s being ridiculous? What if he defends Maya? Or tries to convince Isadora to make amends? She can’t take the risk. The lack of communication now is better than discovering that Farkle has taken a side -- Maya’s.

The date doesn’t go on for too much longer, as it’s quite late over in the UK and Chai keeps yawning. They exchange goodbyes and well wishes, then Chai hangs up, mouth wide open in the middle of a yawn.

The ended call screen shows that they were talking for only 19 minutes. Longer than they’d been able to message for over the past few weeks, but definitely not as long as either of them want.

Isadora closes the window with a sigh. At least it was something.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Chubbies is officially closed for the evening, Lucas pulling down the shades on the windows. He flicks off the light switch for the “open” neon sign.

But the party is just getting started. Lucas doubles back behind the counter and disappears through the kitchen… returning moments later with company after letting them in from the back entrance. Riley is leading the charge, in eager conversation with ZAY BABINEAUX. Then follows Isadora, Nigel, and finally JADE BEAMON.

The gang’s all here! Well, at least, the New York crew! Jade exchanges a quick hug with Isadora and compliments her new hair. Riley gathers them around the counter at the stools while Isadora bullies Lucas into getting them glasses -- she’s brought the liquor from their apartment, and they need something to drink it out of.

Lucas: I already don’t have school. You trying to get me fired too?

Isadora: You know damn well if Joe was going to fire you, he would’ve done it ages ago.

Zay: Yeah, like maybe for your absolutely tragic tableside manner.

Jade: True.

Lucas: Why did I let you in?

Zay: [ not seriously ] Seriously, no jokes, have you ever gotten a tip? Genuinely asking.

Lucas: That’s none of your business, but I’ve got a tip for you. Where did I put it… oh, yeah, it’s right here --

Lucas pretends to search his pockets and then retrieves a middle finger, special just for Zay. Riley playfully disrupts their banter and shoos Lucas to go get the glasses, Zay rolling his eyes while Nigel laughs at his expense. Riley declares there will be no bickering tonight -- it’s celebratory vibes only, as they share this final Saturday of non-collegiate freedom together.

Yes, much waiting for them on the horizon… and while it’s clear there’s nerves around the group, ultimately, they seem excited. Hopeful for what their new worlds hold, eager to jump in and start walking the path to the rest of their lives. Riley says as much while giving a rallying little pre-toast, Lucas returning with the closest thing the diner has to shot glasses.

Riley: I just want everyone to know how proud I am of you and how super excited I am for all the cool things that we’re doing. I mean, cool fashion apprentice, three NYU stars-to-be, an elite dance school artiste --

Zay: Not technically in the elite dance school yet, but yes.

Riley: I’m just saying, this is a pretty cool crop of people -- to say nothing of the people who aren’t here because they’re already off doing very cool things. So I wanted to say I love you all, and cheers to whatever is about to come.

Hear, hear! Lucas has finished pouring drinks, everyone taking their cup and raising it before knocking back the alcohol. Jade claims she appreciates Riley’s positive energy -- there’s not a ton of it out there in the real world. It’s refreshing, and definitely what they need more of. Nigel concurs, thinking of Riley’s outlook like… manifesting. If they go into it with high spirits, believing things will happen for the best, then what’s gonna stop them?

Lucas looks particularly unimpressed by all this chatter, but he keeps it to himself. Zay carries on with the thread, declaring that the future is in their hands and they do have the power to see it through. Challenges come his way, he’s ready for it.

Zay: No making the same mistakes.

Isadora: No self-sabotage.

Nigel: No underestimating ourselves.

None of the above! It’s optimism and success only in this Chubbies tonight, and we’re manifesting the dream. This is their chance, the start of everything, and it’s enough to get all of them revved up. You can feel the musical senses tingling…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Shot” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Isadora De La Cruz, Nigel Chey, Jade Beamon, Lucas James Friar, and Riley Matthews

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

It’s Zay who breaks the barrier and bursts into song first, launching us into this absolute modern classic and ode to young ambition. The lyrics here have been specifically divvied up and reworked (given our kiddos aren’t singing about the revolutionary war), so it’s definitely worth following along.

Zay and Isadora split the opening verses, the others joining in to echo them on the first chorus. Then, when they’re each explaining their lofty goals and dreams for the year to come, Lucas refills their glasses so that they can take a pointed shot once they’ve concluded their part.

Still, at some point, the dissonance becomes too much to bear, and Lucas simply must chime in. He takes the cynical Burr part, coming off aloof and slightly snarky as he warns them that they better calm down with all their hopes and dreams (“geniuses, lower your voices…”). As far as he sees it, they can talk all they want, but if they’re not careful at some point, the universe is gonna hear them and feel the need to knock them down a few pegs -- or in other words, they’re “gonna get shot.”

Riley takes his teasing at face value, lightly nudging his head from where she’s seated on the countertop next to him. She counters his pessimism by highlighting again what each of them bring to the table, how special all of them are, that if any crop of people could accomplish everything they want it would be this one. She riles herself up in her affection and excitement, basically barreling through the words until she has that moment of trained self-reflection, pulling back on it since she’s been ridiculed for it in the past.

Oh, am I talking too loud? Sometimes I get overexcited, shoot off at the mouth I never had a group of friends before, I promise that I’ll make you all proud

This group of friends, tellingly, is not going to ridicule her. They’re all endeared by her enthusiastic ranting -- Lucas more so than anyone, even with his cynicism -- embracing her quirks and happily jumping up to join her in the excitement.

Then the five of them take over the diner, dancing along the floor with each other and vibing to the performance. Even Jade is in the groove, dancing with Nigel and playfully spitting verses with Isadora -- though pointedly still no singing solos for her, for fair reason. By the time they’ve finished hyping each other up to rise up, they’re on the table tops, singing to the ceiling.

Rise up, rise up!

Then they freeze, the lights in the diner seem to dim, and the spotlight is on Lucas. Watching removed from the rest of them, not living in this same moment, trapped in the past and more consumed by that fact than he lets on. He takes the Hamilton free verse at 3:52, the self-expression existing in his head just like his last free-verse monologue in 206.

And as hard as he’s trying to tamp all his emotion down, to not care about it or forget this is his reality, the unfairness and frustration and wistfulness of it breaks through anyway. That’s what causes the emotional build through the verse -- the way that even though it’s over, even though it should be simple to go back to the way things were before and embrace his old cynicism, he can’t. Because he’s felt the rush of potential, knows how it feels to be excited about the future and realize he’s capable of more, and now that he’s tasted it, it’s like he can’t ever go back.

But I can’t help but think past tomorrow!

Then the real world resumes, and the others take back over, carrying through the energy to the end. It’s great to see them all performing again, so bright-eyed and eager about what’s to come, to have even a fraction of our A class still together as they adventure forward.

They wrap it up back at the stools by the counter, approximately where they started. Riley throws an arm around Zay’s shoulder and calls for one more rallying cry, prompting the echo that concludes the iconic number.

And I am not throwing away my shot!

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

The calendar on Riley’s wall has progressed again, all the days before the fateful first Monday of classes now crossed out in purple gel ink.

All things considered, Riley seems pretty calm. She’s showered and prepped everything for tomorrow well in advance, wet hair braided over her shoulder, so now all there is left to do is wait. And she’s spending that time wisely, using it to talk to one of the people who couldn’t be there yesterday night but already braved his first week.

Riley: So it went well? You think it’s gonna be a good semester?

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

Farkle is crashed on his bed, the last dregs of sunset still leaking in through the window and emphasizing the time difference between their two worlds. Although we saw a very different picture at the start, Farkle downplays his dissatisfaction with Riley. He simply shrugs, managing a convincing enough smile – he did used to spend all that time practicing it in the mirror.

Farkle: Nothing a little Minkus innovation and some Triple A grit can’t handle. The theory classes are going to be a bit dry I’m sure, but the theater ones should be pretty good. And I’m really excited about my music class.

Riley: Nice, that’s awesome. And how were the other people, anybody seem cool?

Farkle hesitates. How do you say you don’t know because you couldn’t figure out how to talk to anyone without sounding like a total loser? And how can he be expected to make new friends when it seems like he can’t even keep the attention of his old ones without actually being there in person?

Farkle: No competition for the likes of Adams, that’s for sure.

Riley: Well, who is? So long as there’s no adorable quirky brunette there to become your new Riley.

Farkle: You know damn well that’s impossible.

Well, maybe… but it never gets old hearing it. Riley smiles, shrugging her shoulders cheekily. But yes, their class was most definitely a unique crew, as being together last night can attest… Riley gives Farkle the quick lowdown of the gathering, and tells him to send them all best wishes for tomorrow because as confident and pumped as they might be, nerves still abound.

Sure sounds fun to have been together. Farkle promises he’ll send good thoughts, not that his have ever done much for anyone including himself, but his true melancholy bleeds through when he comments on how fun it must’ve been having one last hurrah.

Farkle: Wish I could’ve been there.

Riley tilts her head, offering a sympathetic smile. She wishes that too – she wishes they all were there, that even with all the growth and adventures they’re about to have they could do it as a team the way they spent the last four years.

But to dwell on it just makes it ache more, so both of them move past it without further comment. Farkle uncertainly starts to ask about Isadora, like he isn’t quite sure he wants to hear about her for himself, but he’s cut off mid-question when Riley’s attention is preoccupied by noise in the apartment.

Riley: Oh, I think Lucas is back. [ in a murmur ] Honestly, I’m kind of impressed he’s here two nights in a row.

Farkle: He been jumping around a lot?

Riley: It’s…

Riley shakes her head, not wanting to get into it. She’s fine with how things are – she has to be. Lucas is coping, and right now that’s all she can ask of him.

Riley: It’s fine. But sorry, I totally cut you off. What were you going to ask?

Farkle pauses, Isadora’s name on the tip of his tongue… but he opts not to continue. Riley clearly has enough going on with Lucas and NYU, he doesn’t want to add to it by inadvertently roping her into whatever is going on with them.

Farkle: Nevermind. I forgot.

Farkle claims he should let her go, Riley assuring him she’ll keep him updated on all the NYU developments of the week and wishing him luck with his second week of classes. While she has him, she also quickly sneaks in the chance to nag him about the time capsule – he’s one of three people who still hasn’t given her his items. She wants to bury this thing sooner rather than later, or it’s going to be ten years before they even get it in the ground.

Farkle assures her he’ll think about it – now that his semester is off and running, maybe he’ll have more brain power to devote to it. Once he satiates Riley for now, they say goodbye, Farkle left staring at his broken phone screen. He turns it off with a sigh, slouching back against his headboard.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Lucas steps into the room just as they end the call, Riley greeting him happily. He’s pretty muted this evening, tired, so he doesn’t have much to say, but it’s clearly a comfort to be back in Riley’s presence. He collapses onto the bed next to her and closes his eyes, listening as she tells him about her schedule for tomorrow and what the first day is going to look like.

When she asks about his plans, and they seem pretty open-ended (that is to say, nonexistent), Riley gently treads the topic of the part-time opportunity at Adams. Lucas doesn’t seem too keen about it, but she points out it would be nice for him to have something consistent to do during the day, in a place that he knows is safe and familiar. And if it makes him be around more consistently, well, all the better. Not to mention it’s another great way to save money, which he’s going to need when Davis rolls around in the spring again and his deferment lapses…

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Yeah, cause that’s still happening.

Hm. Very optimistic of you, Lucas. Riley clearly isn’t thrilled with this sarcastic response, frustration visible on her face only because he’s currently got his eyes closed. It’s obvious she wants to rally him out of this funk, this ambivalent resignation to the way life is now, but there doesn’t feel like a good way to do that without hitting a nerve or being overbearing. He already feels so fragile in her grasp, like one wrong move and he’ll float away for good.

So she has to settle for gentle nudges. She clears her throat, doing her best to keep her voice reasonable and even.

Riley: I know it doesn’t seem like it now, because it’s so far off and things are… how they are. But who knows what will happen in the next few months. I just think when the time comes and you get the chance to go, you don’t want to end up in the same situation as last year because you didn’t let yourself prepare for it. Just because other people and things are getting in the way of your future doesn’t mean you have to let them decide it for you.

Fair point. And Lucas knows she’s right, despite how hard it feels to believe it right now. He opens his eyes and glances at her, taking her in. She really is being so patient with him, and he knows that too…

Riley: Just think about it. Sleep on it and tomorrow, you can decide whether you want to go or not. You know Eric won’t hold it against you either way.

Lucas: … okay. Yeah, okay.

A maybe is better than a no. Lucas gets up and claims he’s going to get ready for bed, Riley nodding and letting him pass her. When he’s at the door he glances back at her again, thoughtful, then doubles back.

Lucas: Hey.

Riley lifts her gaze as Lucas approaches, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. A quick thank you, a reassurance for something he can’t quite put into words, a way to convey one of the many things he’s shit at articulating but knows he wants her to know.

And she gets the message. Riley smiles, taking his arm and squeezing lightly. She lets her fingers trace down to his hand as he slips from her grasp and heads out of the room, leaving her alone.

When she slouches back against her pillows and looks towards her calendar, some of those aforementioned nerves creep into her expression. And another thought seems to strike her, thinking about who she got to be with yesterday and who won’t be there tomorrow. She remembers what other thing didn’t feel quite right about the night before.

She grabs her phone from the mattress and pulls up a different message thread, shooting off another text.

“One more night til classes!! Got everyone together last night to celebrate and it felt v weird without you. Wish you were here but hope you’re having so much fun in Italy”

INT. WATER CLOSET - DAY

Riley’s text comes through, the recipient’s phone on silent and merely glowing where it’s precariously balanced on the lip of an old-fashioned porcelain sink. When the message comes through, we see the local time on screen – 6AM. The faucet is running, a familiar pair of hands with a couple of rings rinsing under the water.

We pan up, and there’s CHARLIE GARDNER, quietly freshening up in the mirror. To be frank, he looks good – a summer abroad has treated him well, the varied European cuisine having no adverse effect on his dancer’s build and all the sun gifting him with a healthy-looking tan.

We can really see it considering he’s presently not wearing a shirt… which also gives us a clear view of his cross necklace, still reliably hanging around his neck -- class ring still threaded and dangling right next to the holy symbol.

Charlie splashes water on his face and then fusses with his hair a bit – not quite at its usual length given the trendy European cut he was given earlier in the summer, but on its way there and noticeably more windswept and laissez-faire than its ever been – before grabbing his plain tee and pulling it on over his head.

One more glance in the mirror, then he’s out. He grabs his phone and slips it into his pocket, creeping out of the bathroom.

INT. NAPLES FLAT - DAY

Charlie moves around the flat cautiously, obviously trying not to make much noise as he slips on his shoes. A bit strange, walking on eggshells in your own apartment…

But that’s because it’s not his place. That becomes abundantly clear when he’s caught in the act of making his exit, an unfamiliar voice startling him when they address him in lightly accented French.

Man: [ in French ] Going so soon?

Charlie exhales, sheepish smile sliding onto his lips as he looks over his shoulder towards the door to the bedroom. There, a young, shirtless, very cute Italian man – tall, dark, and handsome would be apt descriptors – is eyeing him with curiosity and amusement. This is GIANLUCA (20).

French seems to be their chosen language in common, their respective English and Italian not quite good enough to cover both of them and French offering just enough mutual understanding to get across the important bits. Such is the life of being a young cross-country European traveler… and it’s also clear that despite Charlie’s not-so-secret escape, the two of them have a relatively easy rapport. This is likely not the first time Charlie has snuck out of Gianluca’s flat, to his bewilderment and entertainment.

Charlie politely explains he has to head out, and that he was being so quiet only because he didn’t want to wake him. Gianluca obviously doesn’t buy a word of that, but isn’t bothered by it, mostly just intrigued by why this attractive yet very strange American boy does anything he does. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

Goes without saying, but the remainder of their exchange takes place in subtitled French.

Gianluca: You’re always rushing off somewhere, Charlie. Not one to hang around long, are you?

Charlie, vaguely: There’s things to do. Early bird gets the worm.

Gianluca: Right. Much to do before 7AM. [ a beat ] How about you hang around just a bit longer. How about some breakfast?

Charlie: I can’t.

Gianluca: A coffee, maybe.

Charlie: I’m sorry.

Gianluca, amused: How about a last name, then?

Ah, tricky… but Charlie simply shakes his head, smile apologetic and only slightly mischievous. These are the rules of engagement with Charlie – no questions, no details, always the air of mystery. Surely, Gianluca knew that when he agreed to, not for the first time, whatever occurred the night before.

Still, curiosity gets the best of him.

Gianluca: You’re truly something else, you know. Tell me, Charlie No Family Name – what’s the rush?

That, Charlie actually seems to contemplate. After a long moment, he meets his gaze, something twinkling in Charlie’s green eyes.

Charlie: Beaucoup de monde à voir.

A lot of world to see. With that, Charlie nods goodbye, stepping out of the apartment and into the early morning. Gianluca watches him go, laughing and shaking his head before disappearing back into his room.

The sounds of a different city float in...

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

When morning rolls around on the east coast and Monday descends upon us, launching us into the first week of classes. Riley and Isadora are walking the streets towards campus together, Riley eagerly leading conversation and both of them looking cute and trendy in their respective styles. Have to make a good impression after all, it’s the first day!

Isadora mainly looks as though she’s trying not to get left behind, Riley on a practical adrenaline kick and walking faster than lightning.

When they make it to a central spot on campus, they meet up with Nigel, who accepts Riley’s excited hug. They only have a few minutes to spare before they head off to their first classes, so as they walk, Riley reiterates the plan for the week – today, they’re meeting up for lunch before Riley and Nigel head to their shared musical theater class to discuss the first day and how it’s going so far. And then they’ll ideally have lunch together at that time every week when it’s feasible for their schedules, or Monday Wednesday Friday, as Riley has already cross-referenced.

At this point given they’re all secretly trying to stay calm amidst all the new, that plan sounds good to all of them. Riley wishes both of them an abundance of luck before they break, heading their separate ways to their first classes.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

They’re not the only ones walking into a new situation. Although the terrain is familiar, Lucas looks downright scared as he hovers in the wings of the Adams auditorium, now officially the “technical teaching assistant.” He glances out from behind the wings to where a crop of students are congregating in the front and center section.

Just like he used to – or didn’t – for four years. As if it was so long ago that was him, and he’s suddenly supposed to be an authority and act like he has any right to be in charge of them. Sure, he knows tech to a degree, but…

Harper appears beside him in the wings, sensing his apprehension. She gives him a bracing pat on the arm, causing him to jump slightly, but he relaxes when he sees it's only her.

Harper: You’ll be fine, Mister Friar. One day at a time. [ a beat ] And don’t ever let them know you’re scared. They can smell fear.

That’s reassuring. Harper leads the way and greets the assembled class that morning, commanding the stage with a confidence she found only through trial and error and hard work.

Lucas takes a deep breath. It’s a wonder if he can find that confidence too, considering he didn’t have much to begin with and he’s not sure he even wants to be there.

As the energetic music kicks up –

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Roaring 20s” as performed by Panic! At The Disco || Instrumental

No hesitation allowed at Turner, where the potential transfers are thrown right into the deep end. Class begins with ROSARIO GAO turning to face the assembled class – a crop of about 25 dancers, all dressed for blood, sweat, and tears and with a mixture of determination and apprehension. Gao herself is impeccably put together as always, ballerina bun tight and expression strict as she launches into her opening spiel. 

Rosario: Welcome to the transfer program. Irony noted in the title, given that when all is said and done, only two of you will leave this program as new members of the rising Turner sophomore class. Whether that will be you or not, that is up to you.

As for the rest of them, they’ll find themselves with the short end of the stick one way or another – either because they’re not good enough to best their competition at the end of the day, or much more likely, because they realize they’re not cut out for the challenge and quit before they even have to prove themselves.

Daunting as her little speech is, Zay is not deterred by the grandstanding. He listens with rapt attention, not looking away, facing her challenges head-on. He’s almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, in fact, he’s so ready to start and show what he’s got.

And he’s not the only one. A few students down the row, VANESSA JOHNSON stands, also one of the potential Turner transfers. She listens with equal intensity, her bold, competitive stare almost a dead ringer for Zay’s.

Rosario continues, explaining that they’re diving right in this morning, so she hopes they’ve stretched and warmed up. They were given all summer to work on the first choreography assignments, and now is the time to show they learned it. And trust, it will be noted if they have not. Whether because of lack of retention or nerves is irrelevant.

Rosario: A mistake as a dancer can be the difference between the crowning moment in a piece of choreography and a career-ending injury. It’s the difference between a perfectly synced routine and an avalanche of missteps. It’s the marker between a good dancer and a great one – and those who take the time to rehearse and study seriously.

Long story short, this first routine is going to see exactly where each of them stand. If Rosario catches a mistake, she will tap you out, and you’re expected to leave the dance floor – no exceptions. The last two performers standing are to improvise from there the remainder of the choreography as stipulated in the assignment – another important skill to master.

With that, nothing left to do but dance. Rosario claps them in, and as Brendon Urie starts singing, the routine kicks off!

The warm-up routine isn’t difficult, necessarily, but it’s fast and precise, a choreography cocktail of jazz, lyrical, and hip-hop. And this Panic! track is the perfect vibe for this moment -- upbeat, energetic, but with an undercurrent of anxiety and tension. That’s how it feels to be performing this first transfer routine, knowing you have to hit every step perfectly lest you screw your very first class.

And the stakes are no joke. Rosario is scrutinizing as promised, literally walking amidst the rows and eyeing each student critically. Looking for any slight error, expression cold and expectant. Sure, she can’t watch everyone at once, and there’s a chance if you slip up she won’t see -- but do you really want to take that chance?

Especially because when she does catch an error, it’s the most brutally subtle of dismissals. She comes up to the student, gently taps them on the shoulder, and then nods to the mirrors -- you’re out. It’s done without malice, without enjoyment, but the implicit disappointment speaks volumes. It’s humiliating as each student makes their walk of shame off the floor.

Humiliation Zay absolutely won’t accept. No, he practiced all summer long and took his prep seriously, and it shows in his performance. We know he’s one of the best there is, but now he’s really showing it, hitting every step with not only accurate precision but also high energy and confidence. The kind of presence you need to command a Broadway stage… or transfer into the elite Turner dance program.

But once again, he’s not the only one. At the other end of the row, Vanessa is showing equally well, demonstrating skill she didn’t get to show off at Quincy High. Dance is as natural to her as it is to Zay, and her determination is written all over her face as she concentrates on the steps. Even though the students around them are quite strong in their own right, the two of them can’t help but stand out.

So it’s maybe not surprising that when Rosario taps her final student out, only the two of them remain. As the song comes its swell at the bridge, building in suspense, Zay and Vanessa turn from opposite ends of the room. Realizing they’re the other left standing, recognizing one another as the rival they already know, having to process this development in the three seconds of reprieve they get.

Because after that, they have to put it aside and make the show go on. It’s like you can see the switch flip, where they turn off their emotions, tune back into the music, and launch into improvising. They come back together at the center of the floor, Vanessa spinning into a lean and Zay catching her, and then the two of them tumble through the remainder of the number. It’s imperfect -- they’re making it up as they go, so there’s no way it couldn’t be -- but they pull it off, managing to show off some impressive ability in their split-second step choices and on the spot collaboration. They end on a high note, Vanessa stretching into half a backbend and then rolling back upright while Zay pulls her closer and stabilizes her, ending nose to nose.

For a moment, as the run-through comes to an end, it’s like the air has gone still. The only sound is Zay and Vanessa’s labored breathing, just inches apart and staring each other down. If either of them had doubts about who their toughest competition was going to be, we can consider those all but eradicated.

We’re brought back to Earth by the click of Rosario’s character shoes crossing the floor, snapping Vanessa and Zay out of it. They step away from each other and turn to face their instructor, waiting for her feedback as their tapped-out peers watch from the sidelines. Rosario stands in front of them, examining them silently, expression betraying nothing…

Rosario: You both receive full marks for today. [ to the others ] The rest of you have the rest of the morning to show me you deserve a passing grade.

That’s it. No “good job,” no high praise, nothing. Even as the best (for today), they won’t be getting needless niceties from Professor Gao. The music kicks up again as Rosario turns on her heel, the other students rushing back onto the floor and finding their window.

Rosario: Babineaux, Johnson, to the back. No sense giving anyone a cheat sheet.

Nice as that is, being sent to the back after besting everyone else doesn’t feel all that great. Zay and Vanessa exchange another distrustful glare before parting ways, finding windows in the back row on opposite ends of the formation.

Rosario, loudly: Five, six, seven –

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - DAY

Charlie’s phone chimes on the windowsill, lighting up not with a text but with a reminder. The screen tells us it’s 4PM local time, the sky still a light blue and sun bright outside the window but just beginning its evening descent. Despite how his ability to text back seems in decline, the same old mementos from the summer special are still taking up important space on the sill – his family photo, the graduation card, Skippy’s bandana. They have not slipped at all from Charlie’s high esteem.

And for how mysterious and surprisingly suave Charlie may have seemed in the early morning hours, the way we find him now feels much more familiar. He’s sitting on his lower bunk and slouched against the wall with his knees pulled up, journal propped against his thighs while he thoughtfully chews the end of his pen. Based on what we can see on the pages, what he’s jotting down now seems like more of a thought exercise or free write, but he clearly has no shortage of words.

But he pulls himself away from it easily when his phone pings. He sits up and stretches to grab it, reading the reminder on the screen. A smile creeps onto his face, and he hops out of bed.

Clearly, even though he’s not at school, he has exciting plans of his own on this eventful Monday.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Yet surely nothing could be more exciting than a thrilling lecture on cinema! Isadora heads into her first film class of the day, finding a seat closer to the front but not right front and center. Part of her contemplates it for a moment – surely, if Maya and Farkle were here, the three of them would claim the front and center seats without hesitation.

But that’s not reality, and they’re not here. So Isadora opts for the more casual approach, settling anonymously in the mass of other students.

When class begins, the TAs make a long and perhaps unnecessarily detailed introduction for the professor who teaches this course, before he saunters out in front of the big screen to a smattering of applause. This is PROFESSOR RICHARD WRIGHT (60s), and he is basically exactly what you’d imagine a tenured old white man film professor at an elite liberal arts university would be like. Cleverly dressed, bespectacled, buoyed by an air of self-importance.

Wright: Good morning, and welcome to the beginning of the most life-changing odyssey of your young lives.

As the TAs begin to hand out the syllabi and pass them down the rows, Isadora tunes out of Wright’s monologuing and takes a look around. She grows more aware of the demographics of those sitting scattered throughout the seats – a diverse crop of students, sure, but still remarkably white and male. She didn’t think about it at first, but as Wright rambles and the boys nod along, it’s like she can’t unsee it.

Another peer lightly taps her arm so they can hand her a syllabus, which she thanks them for with a subtle nod. She eagerly begins to flip through it, but her enthusiasm wanes rather quickly… for such an “important” and “cutting edge” course, this list of films seems just about as basic as it gets in the realm of film studies. Like sure, Isadora can appreciate what each of these films contributed – Citizen Kane, Breathless, The Graduate, Hitchcock – but where’s the variety? The flavor, the genre, the intrigue?

Wright: With me as your humble guide, rest assured that by the conclusion of this course, your young minds will be armed and immersed in a richer and inimitable understanding of cinema.

Yeah… Isadora doesn’t seem too sure about that. But it’s only the first day, and she’s trying to be optimistic, so she sets aside her reservations and opens her laptop for notes as Wright begins what is sure to be a long-winded lecture on the very origins of film to kick off their first class.

EXT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - DAY

Meanwhile, further uptown in the Garment District, another busy week is beginning at the Anya Kelly Design Studio.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Interns, seamstresses, and other personnel flurry through the office, what is essentially a hip and urban former factory having been converted into an open-air design studio and costume warehouse. While the designs stay safely in the actual storage area further back, protected by double doors designed like an old-fashioned safe, most of the day-to-day work takes place on the floor – a huge, open office space populated with wide tables littered with fabric and measuring tapes, mannequins, sewing machines, and desks with the traditional industry office fare.

This is where we find JADE BEAMON, settled down at one of the smaller desks tucked to one of the side clusters. This is where the apprentices are stationed, set up more like assistants than designers with administrative tools and a desktop computer, but it’s still amidst the action. And Jade seems to have made herself somewhat at home in the last handful of weeks, no longer a fresh newbie like her collegiate friends but more established in her new workplace.

Touches of home certainly help that. On her desk – which she’s only sparsely decorated – one of the items she’s chosen to bring is a Polaroid photo of her and Asher, leaning alongside a framed picture of her and Nigel from Stratford. She glances at it after finishing up a task on her computer and smiles to herself.

She’s pulled into conversation by one of her new peers, SKYLAR ALBRIGHT (20), the apprentice from one year before. She’s trendy and a bit alternative, hair dyed platinum and more effortlessly stylish than Jade thinks she could ever hope to be. Skylar informs her that the kitchen is stocked with gourmet cupcakes today (must be someone’s birthday, but it’s any guess whose – apprentices aren’t usually privy to that sort of information).

Jade: It’s not Anya’s, is it? That would be embarrassing to not know.

Skylar: According to Goog, no, though I had the same thought.

They’re joined by JAMAL ALLEN (22), the third apprentice and least recent hire. He’s both a friend and mentor to Jade, he and Skylar basically tag-teaming her training as the new apprentice given no one else really has the time to do it. He’s got half a cupcake in his mouth.

Jamal: Trust, when it’s AK’s b-day, you’ll know. It’s impossible to miss.

Skylar: Really? I don’t remember anything from last year.

Jamal: It was on a weekend. And you had strep that week.

Skylar: Oh, yeah. That was fucked.

Jade wants to ask more, but they’re interrupted by MELANIE MURPHY (28), Anya’s administrative assistant. She’s petite and pretty, with a smile as sweet as sugar and the slightest Southern twang indicating she’s no New York native – well, either that or it’s faked to give her some uniqueness, which in the entertainment world is not all that unlikely. Her style is a cross somewhere between Maya Hart and a Victorian evil stepsister: preppy and professional with ruffles, lace, and silk in abundance.

Sweet as she may seem, though, Melanie is two-faced as they come and her charming voice cuts like a scythe. She greets them with her usual beam, clasping her hands in front of her.

Melanie: Good morning, ladies and gent. [ off their murmured response ] I just wanted to let you all know that the cupcakes in the kitchen are strictly for Anya and the seamstresses – it’s Carlotta’s birthday today, and they’re all celebrating the final delivery of the costume set for Mean Girls.

Jamal: How nice.

Skylar: Congrats on meeting deadline.

Melanie: I’ll pass on your warm wishes. I just wanted to clarify that we shouldn’t be plucking items from the kitchen willy-nilly – not everything is meant for everyone. I’m sure you understand.

Jamal subtly lowers the remaining cupcake in his hand and hides it behind his back. Jade bites back her laughter.

Skylar: Thanks for the update, Mel. We really needed to know this information.

Melanie: You’re welcome. I’ll be sure to enjoy a double chocolate in your honor, for all the hard work you apprentices do – it’s absolutely to die for. Someday you’ll have to try it.

But clearly, not right now, because the apprentices aren’t important enough for that. Melanie gives them a cheery little wave and then flutters off, Jamal and Skylar mimicking it back to her behind her back.

Skylar: You can see how much she loves it, lording things over us. It gives her a sick little thrill that’s deep in her eyes.

Jamal: Let her have it. She’s an assistant and she’s almost thirty – this might be the only power she ever gets to have.

Skylar: Well, that and actually getting to see Anya.

Yes, that is one benefit to being someone’s assistant… but an interesting comment. As it turns out, working at Anya Kelly’s studio is no guarantee of actually seeing the acclaimed but mysterious young designer. Her office is situated one floor above the open work floor, frosted glass doors seemingly always closed and keeping her out of sight.

Jade gazes up at the doors curiously while Skylar and Jamal bicker in the background, the former trying to convince the latter to give her the remainder of the cupcake he illegally swiped. As a jaunty, crooning Dean Martin classic floats in…

EXT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “On An Evening In Roma” as performed by Dean Martin || Instrumental

Technically we’re in Naples, not Rome, but the vibes are impeccable just the same. Charlie steps out from his hostel and starts down the cobbled path. He navigates the city with ease that shows how long he’s been immersed, and when he politely greets his neighbors they regard him with friendly familiarity.

Charlie: Salve, Signora Russo.

Russo: Ciao, Charlie!

He beams, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he continues his journey. Though he walks leisurely, he does have a destination…

EXT. NAPLES - DAY

Which we take a bit of a scenic route to arrive at, getting glimpses of the colorful and cultural world of the Italian city Charlie has been living in for a handful of weeks. Marketplaces, restaurants, architecture and museums and a beautiful seaside – it may not be as inherently touristy as Rome, but it’s not hard to see why Charlie chose it for his longest European stay.

EXT. NAPLES METRO STATION - DAY

When Charlie makes it to the train station, it doesn’t take long to figure out what his big reminder was all about. He scans the crowd of departing passengers until he finds BRIDGETTE GARDNER, fresh from the airport with suitcase in hand. She meets his eyes and merely gives him an eyebrow raise, greeting him in just about the most Bridgette way possible.

Charlie’s grin is immediate. He moves through the crowd to meet her and the two of them share a tight hug, Bridgette breaking into a smile of her own. They launch into eager chatter as they start the walk back through the city, Charlie taking Bridgette’s bag to carry it for her.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

The romantic, almost fantasy-like charm can’t last very long in the trenches of film theory -- particularly when you’re surrounded by Film Boys. Isadora has found herself in a group of them, only with a couple of other girls and less boisterous guys when they break into mini-discussion groups after the first half of lecture.

They’re meant to be discussing which of their favorite films apply to some of the concepts Wright claimed would be part of the semester curriculum, but it’s mainly just the louder boys dominating the conversation with their opinion. One of them, a scrawny but confident boy named JASPER CHASE (18), is unabashedly rambling about how Fight Club is the greatest film of all time and covers every single one of their upcoming lecture categories.

Isadora might be slightly intimidated by college, but pretentious boys strike no fear in her. So when he says that, she snorts, drawing all attention towards her.

Jasper: What’s so funny?

Isadora: Nothing, nothing. It’s just like… there really are boys like you out there. I thought the Fight Club film boy was just a rumor. Next you’re gonna go on a rant about how Pulp Fiction is the best addition to cinema in the history of the medium.

Well, now she’s really done it, because yes, Pulp Fiction is the favorite film of many of the other boys in the group. But if our days watching Isadora and Farkle (who wouldn’t spare so much energy over either film, to be sure) duke it out taught us anything, it’s that Isadora isn’t afraid of an argument and never backs down from a challenge. Least of all from a scrawny white boy who thinks he’s hot shit.

The heated debate going on in their circle -- heightened by Jasper’s affront at being challenged and Isadora’s hot-headed temperament triggered by being talked down to by this type of chump -- is enough to draw the attention of their professor. Wright floats over and grandly questions what film topic has riled them into such fierce discussion. He’s not opposed to it, to be clear, as at least enthusiasm for film is deeply on display.

It takes a few seconds of getting Isadora and Jasper to stop talking over each other, when Wright finally gets them both to cease and asks Jasper for his take on the situation first. Isadora bristles at that, especially since Jasper twists the whole situation to make himself look good and just trying to follow the parameters of the discussion and enlighten Isadora.

Isadora: That’s so not what happened. I was explaining to this dude --

Jasper: It’s Jasper.

Isadora: And I’m Isadora. Like it matters. I was explaining to Jasper that his argument about Fight Club being a pinnacle for every angle of film we’re about to study is totally ludicrous --

Well, well, well, Wright has heard enough. Whatever Isadora was going to say, it probably wouldn’t matter -- the professor seems to inherently trust Jasper for whatever reason, taking his side and claiming he probably had it right. But he condescendingly commends Isadora for her “passion,” hopefully that will only strengthen the more she learns about the craft in their semester together.

Isadora is practically fuming by the time Wright breezes away. Jasper snickers and shares smirks with his fellow Pulp Fiction stannies, turning the smirk on Isadora. One point Chase, zero for De La Cruz.

She can’t decide if she’s more angry or humiliated.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Nearly two hours and a lot of sweat later, Rosario is wrapping up the first transfer class. She gives them all a brief speech reiterating the high expectations of the course and low tolerance for anything but their best – if they’re determined to be in the elite program, they will have to prove they’ve got what it takes since they couldn’t do so the first time around.

Rosario: If you felt embarrassed by your performance this morning, let that serve as incentive for you to avoid the same fate next class and come prepared.

And if they feel that’s asking too much, they’re more than welcome to drop – they certainly would not be the first. With that and a quick reminder of the assignment for Wednesday, class is dismissed.

Worn out and glistening with sweat as he might be, Zay does not seem at all deterred. And that’s fair, given his comparatively strong start… something it seems other classmates have picked up on too, earning him a couple of side-eyes as people start to filter out.

But one peer is even bolder than the rest, deciding to take the opportunity to introduce herself upfront. A perky, petite dancer approaches him, not waiting a beat to cut right to the chase and commend him for his great first impression – a sentiment that would be sweet if it didn’t feel so unmistakably barbed with a backhanded threat of competition.

Gia: So it’s Isaiah, right?

Zay: Zay, actually –

Gia: Zay. So cool. I’m Georgia, but no one in their right mind calls me that – I go by “Gia.” So nickname besties, gotta know what you want your brand to be, am I right?

Zay: Right…

Gia: Anyway, kudos to you, can’t wait to see what else you’ve got in store. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to stay at the front of the pack – you know, now that you’ve put yourself right at the top. It’s not like there’s any pressure to keep to that standard or anything. You made such a good impression; don’t want to slip and fall from that grace too fast.

Okay, as adorable as her smile is, GEORGIA “GIA” VALDEZ (19) kind of makes Maya Hart seem calm and angelic. Zay doesn’t even know what to say, simply nodding along until she burns herself out and cheerfully excuses herself, freeing him from the conversation. She has other fish to fry with an overwrought introduction, only making a pit stop to unctuously thank Rosario for an excellent first class before practically chasing Vanessa out the door.

But not before Vanessa makes a statement of her own. Or rather, a lack of one – she and Zay make eye contact before she heads out, and she opts pointedly not to say anything. An unfriendly glare will suffice perfectly, and Zay mirrors it.

Unlike Gia, there’s little to no question about how the two of them really feel about one another at this point.

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

Riley is on the phone as she makes her way through campus to lunch, chatting with Farkle again. She’s nagging him about the time capsule as they discuss logistics, and Farkle admits it’s harder to pick the perfect items than he expected. Especially with the start of the semester and everything else… when the topic drifts to Agent Turner and how he’s gone AWOL, Riley immediately jumps on the offensive.

Riley: Then he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Seriously, Farkle, he’s going to learn he’s missing out on something spectacular by not taking you on.

Farkle: I guess. I mean, thanks, but I just don’t want to think that I came all the way out here…

Riley: You know what, I’m telling you, you need to talk to my Uncle Josh.

Farkle is obviously reluctant about that, not wanting to bother him or put Riley in the position of haggling for them, but she’s adamant. She claims she was planning to nudge him anyway, and it’s the least she could do for a friend. That’s what the industry is all about, isn’t it? Contacts and connections?

Riley: Trust me, it’ll be great. He’ll love you guys, and Josh is like the best there is. He’s so cool, and really chill, and so passionate about music. He’s been out there for years now, he knows what he’s doing. You could not put your career in better hands!

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Effusive as Riley’s praise is, our first glimpse of the myth may not inspire such confidence. On a remarkably untidy desk, JOSH MATTHEWS (24) is knocked, cheek pressed against a stack of contracts under review. Empty and half-finished coffee cups litter the desktop. His curly dark hair is equally untidy, perpetually hidden under a beanie, and it seems like he may be just a wee bit overdue for a shave…

Off-screen, we hear whispers and giggles, quickly shushed before a Converse-clad foot slowly eases into the frame. Getting closer and closer to Josh’s face… until it taps his cheek. The chuckles grow, as do the shushes, but still Josh doesn’t stir. It’s not until the Converse definitely nudges against his temple that he’s startled awake, reacting in surprise and inadvertently knocking one of his half-empty coffee cups over and splattering on his clothes and desk.

Josh: Jeepers!

If he wasn’t already disoriented, the immediate laughter that erupts around him is really another level. He looks up from his coffee-stained shirt to see many of his assembled colleagues – fellow junior producers and assistants, the ones who populate the desks at the center of the floor but don’t get offices of their own – laughing at his expense. One of his direct coworkers, BRIAN HARRIS (28), is filming it on his phone.

Brian: Jeepers! You really said jeepers, Josh! Ha ha ha!

Assistant: We should put this on the Global Beat Tik Tok.

Brian: [ with a gasp ] Yes. Yes, that’s so good!

No, no that is not good! Josh starts to argue, but he also doesn’t want to be the one making a big deal out of a little playful office pranking. It’s not like he’s never been on the other side of one, and well, it was his fault for falling asleep at the office.

Josh: Okay, funny, you all can fuck right off.

The early morning pre-work tomfoolery is broken up when some of the higher-level producers start arriving, dispersing the lower-levels back to their respective desks. Brian gives Josh a slap on the shoulder, assuring him they’re just having a laugh.

A couple of Josh’s senior-level producers catch his attention as they show up to their office for the day. This is the producing team of JUSTIN MILLER (31) and MELISSA SUZUKI (30), a trendy and creative duo quickly making a name for themselves in the music world. They’re mentors of sorts just as much as they’re bosses to Josh – and they represent basically everything he wants to be.

Right now, though, they’re more like older siblings, also not missing the opportunity to rag on him. They eye his coffee-stained attire and obvious lack of… well, going home, given he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

Justin: [ mock helpfully ] Aye, Josh, you’ve got a little –

He gestures noncommittally to like, his entire torso, as if Josh isn’t well aware he’s dunked in coffee like a doughnut. Justin barks out a laugh and heads into their shared office, Melissa offering a slightly nicer but also thoroughly amused smile.

Melissa: This is why we go home after 6PM, Joshie.

Justin: [ from the office ] Great way to start my morning! I needed that pick-me-up, thanks buddy!

Attention finally off him as work settles in for the morning, Josh exhales and turns his glare to the coworker at the desk next to his – the one with the straying Converse. ROWAN PHELPS (25), most commonly known just as Phelps, is an executive assistant and junior producer just like Josh, with a close-cropped androgynous haircut and a jawline perhaps better suited for modeling. But Phelps is here for the music, and despite their participation in the morning shenanigans, is arguably Josh’s most genuine friend at Global Beat.

Right now, though, their shit-eating grin is downright evil. Josh grumbles.

Josh: Et tu, Phelps?

Phelps, pithily: This is why we go home after 6PM, Joshie. Overachiever.

Josh reaches forward and shoves at their rolling chair, before attempting to salvage paperwork from his desk and wipe away the coffee. Just in case you had any delusions, if this doesn’t demonstrate it well enough, Hollywood… is about as mature an industry as your common high school free period.

Professionalism is a relative term.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

That’s equally true back at Adams, where Lucas is faced with his first daunting task -- getting the freshman techies to take him seriously. The handful of baby techs stare at him as he approaches where they’re congregated in the back center section, just like where he used to gather with his crew not too long ago.

No fear. No fear. Lucas takes a deep breath, channeling his infamous aloof demeanor as he comes to stand in front of them and introduces himself. He explains that he’s the teaching assistant for Shawn, their direct supervisor, and he’ll be helping them learn the ropes of technician work.

Getting them to listen shouldn’t be too hard. Most of them are still just gaping at him, either because they’re terrified or think he’s insanely pretty (or both). Though one of them -- a mini-Isadora if there ever was one, skeptical squint framed by chunky glasses -- raises her hand almost immediately.

Lucas: Yeah. You. I mean -- what’s your name?

Greta: It’s Greta.

Lucas: Okay. Greta. What do you want?

Assuming this the time to chime in, one of the other boys -- a gangly kid with freckles and curly hair under a beanie -- pipes up.

Bean: My name’s Bean.

Lucas: Um. Okay. Then.

Jake: Yo, Bean, whaddup! [ to Lucas ] I’m Jake.

This prompts all of them to start talking over each other -- that is, except the shy ones -- to introduce themselves, vying for Lucas’s attention like popcorn kernels. It’s obvious he has no clue how to prioritize or who to pay attention to -- kids are so terrifying.

Greta: Hey, shut up! I was asking a question.

Bean: Sorry, G.

Lucas: … okay. What did you want to ask?

Greta: Yeah, okay. So, why should we listen to you?

Lucas: Huh?

Greta: Why should we listen to you? Didn’t they like, just hire you? Aren’t you barely a legal adult? What are your credentials?

Bean: Were we supposed to bring credentials? I don’t think that was on the supplies list.

Jake: [ with a laugh ] Dude, what’s wrong with you?

Lucas: Uh --

Greta: I thought this was supposed to be the best arts school in the city. How do you factor into that?

Well damn, Greta, the fuck if he knows! Stop asking him the questions that keep him up at night! They simply devolve into chatter once again, other techies interrupting with questions they decide they need to know the answer to that may or may not have anything to do with Lucas or the school.

Lucas feels like he’s been dropped in the deep end, and he’s drowning trying to figure out how to take back control of the situation… that is, until he zeroes in on something else.

Lucas: Hey. Hey!

The only one who wasn’t paying attention -- a slight guy dressed in dark clothes and ratty Converse and with a perpetually mischievous shade to his expression -- jumps from where he was leaning down in his seat. This is TIMMY.

Lucas: What’s your name?

Timmy: Uh… Timmy.

Lucas: Okay. Timmy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?

Timmy: What?

Lucas: What were you doing just now?

Timmy: What? I -- nothing. Nothing.

Convincing… or it would be if he didn’t have the slightest of guilty smiles on his face. Amateur. Lucas holds a hand out.

Lucas: Hand it over.

Timmy: Hand what over?

Lucas: You know. Come on, give it.

Timmy: Lay off, dude. You can’t tell me what to do. I wasn’t doing anything.

Jake: Uh, yeah he can, bro. He’s the teacher.

Greta: He’s the teaching assistant.

Timmy: Yeah, he’s just the assistant. He can’t have my Sharpie.

Lucas: So you do have a Sharpie?

Oop? The others are watching with rapt attention now -- a showdown already! The second week has barely started!

Lucas: What’d you write under the seat, Timmy? You know vandalism is a crime. And I can guarantee anything you think you’re so clever for jotting on that chair, I’ve already beat you to it.

Ooh… got ‘em. Now he’s really got their attention. Timmy sheepishly hands over the red Sharpie he was in fact scribbling on the seat with, acting grumpy about it, but he admittedly seems much more interested in Lucas now than he was before.

Lucas pockets the Sharpie and exhales a deep breath, getting things back on track.

Lucas: So. Tech. Get up, I’m gonna show you around.

Greta: Um, Mister Hunter already did that.

Lucas: Who?

Jake: … um... Shawn?

It’s possible they didn’t call him “Mister Hunter” in the entire four years Lucas was a student. Guess he’s legit now.

Lucas: Oh. Yeah. Well, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, so. Get up, we’re going anyway.

Greta seems utterly baffled, but dutifully gets up along with the others. Timmy acts nonchalant but makes a point of sauntering to the front of the pack, right behind Lucas. A couple of others tailing in the back whisper to each other.

Baby Tech: He is the most beautiful and scary man I’ve ever seen in my life.

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - DAY

Bridgette hops down from the top bunk she’s claimed above Charlie’s, officially settled into her temporary digs for the days that she’s here. Charlie starts eagerly listing off things he wants to show her while she’s here, how he thinks they should break up their days, but Bridgette is more interested with taking in what’s right in front of her – like how Charlie has been living the last few weeks. She zeroes in on the mementos set-up on the windowsill, smiling lightly.

Bridgette: [ nodding to it ] Cute set-up. Pretty good picture of the fam, too – everyone in it looks half-decent, which is a rare feat. Much to mother’s chagrin, I know.

Charlie: Please.

Bridgette: Bit biased here, though. Where’s your heathen older sister representation?

Charlie: Well, maybe you’d have some if there was proof you existed. Take a picture with me, and I can put it up.

Bridgette: Oh, now Charlie, you’re slipping on your surreptitious ways. Photographs are evidence, and evidence can be used against you. Besides, if you’re taking a photo you’re not living in the moment. You should be all into that, it sounds like something you’d say. [ off his eye roll ] Speaking of, contingency plans.

Charlie: Oh?

Bridgette: Yes. Though the odds are small, on the off-chance word somehow gets back to the motherland -- or Motherland, with a capital M -- that you and I were spotted traipsing around the Italian coast together, I’ve planned our cover story. I fed Auntie Edith a bullshit but very engaging story explaining my dire need to return to Europe as one of the Catholic men I met while rediscovering my holy virtues on the trip she so graciously funded was having a crisis of faith and only I could remind him in the same way he saved me. And if marriage comes of it, well --

Charlie snorts, shaking his head. It seems he isn’t the only Gardner child with a penchant for romanticized imagination.

Bridgette: But if that story doesn’t pan out and disseminate widely to the greater church populace like I’m sure it will given Edith has the loosest lips in the congregation, then our backup is simply that you convinced me to come visit you in the Pope’s domain in your noble effort to solidify my evangelization.

Kind of ironic, given how Charlie has been spending his summer, but it’ll do. With that out of the way, it’s Italy time, Bridgette turning to Charlie and gesturing for him to lead the way.

EXT. NYU - LUNCH SPOT - DAY

Riley, Isadora, and Nigel have met up for lunch as promised, the three of them seated at an outdoor table in one of the common lunch spots on campus. Food acquired and an hour of time theirs again, they catch up on how their first classes went.

Well, by that, it’s basically like Isadora dominating the conversation as she viscerally complains about her first experience with the film boys. Like the arrogance, the irritation, the sheer ego… unbelievable! Anyone who thought the Adams students were bad clearly has never sat in a film major course with eighteen-year-old boys who think they’re going to be the next Tarantino – as if that’s the most highly achievable standard anyway.

Once she’s burnt herself out, she abruptly shifts topic with a huff.

Isadora: Anyway. What the fuck ever. Nigel, how was your class?

Nigel is evidently unprepared to be addressed. He finishes chewing his veggie wrap, nowhere near as filled with things to say as Isadora.

Nigel: Oh, I had Introduction to Psychology. Brains… and stuff. It was… fine --

Riley incidentally cuts him off, still processing Isadora’s rant and not ready to move past it. She tells Isadora not to immediately jump to the worst conclusions. Sure, some of her classmates might be annoying, but they had annoying peers at Adams too.

Isadora: Farkle was annoying, but lovable. Like “Call Me Maybe.” Or street pigeons.

Nigel: Damn. I thought Farkle was your best friend?

Isadora: He is. [ without elaborating ] These boys are no Farkle Minkus. They are evil, and I will destroy them.

Riley isn’t going to argue that. She just suggests Isadora not let one class totally taint her perception of NYU or the semester as a whole.

Riley: It’s only been half a day. Surely good things are on the horizon.

Isadora: Meh…

Riley: We just need to take the time to give everything its fair shake and put our best foot forward. Sometimes it takes time for true colors to emerge, for us to find the potential in people and things -- I think all of us can attest to that.

Isadora won’t deny that. Riley isn’t wrong, and the week is just starting. But if Isadora is looking for a distraction or something else to think about, Riley nags, then she could start by figuring out what she’s going to put in the time capsule which she still hasn’t done despite living in the same apartment as the person organizing the whole thing.

That sure energizes Isadora, but in the opposite way. No time to focus on time capsule things and trying to qualify what’s most important to her – Isadora has film boys to defeat!

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DAY

The good news is, shockingly, not all boys suck. One such example is Zay’s next company as he also heads to lunch, excitedly meeting up with HENRIK VON FELDT (19). This is the good friend he made at Kossal three summers ago, a fellow bisexual dancer who now is living his dream as a member of the freshman class at Turner Academy.

He doesn’t hold that over Zay’s head, though. On the contrary, as they head to the cafeteria, Henrik happily answers every question Zay has about his first day in the program and repeatedly reassures him he’ll get to experience it all for himself when he transfers in next year. As far as Henrik is concerned, Zay joining him soon enough is a guarantee.

Of course, Henrik hasn’t met the competition. And it seems like his current circumstances might paint a much rosier picture than Zay’s – apparently, the Turner major doesn’t feel cutthroat at all on first impressions. They don’t have classes with Rosario until sophomore year (though she does have a reputation for being a hard ass), and while there’s a couple of competitive folks, so far Henrik only has positive impressions of his peers.

Henrik: Mainly it’s just a bunch of folks who seem chill and really love dance. AKA, the total vibe – you’ll fit right in, once you get in.

So a completely different vibe than the initiation Zay has had so far. When Henrik asks him about his first impression, Zay deflects, smoothly assuring him it’s off to a good start and he’s looking forward to the semester. Nothing to worry about. Same shining review.

INT. BING THEATRE - DAY

Meanwhile, Farkle is settling in for his first class of the morning, one of his acting classes. A class where many of his fellow majors are, but he still isn’t sure how to… like, mesh with people, so he ultimately finds a seat on his own. It’s Monday, anyway. Who wants to be chatty on a Monday morning?

As class kicks off, their professor explains that now that syllabus week is done, for their first actual acting assignment they will be focusing on the quintessential actor’s tool: the monologue. On their individual and varied journeys to the stage and screen, the monologue will always be their most common aid, their most valuable asset, the expression of skill that can make or break an audition. A monologue can convey so much with so little -- no sets, no costumes, no effects or music or melodrama -- and it will serve them greatly if they can master it. So that is what they will be starting with, and honing over the next four years.

INT. NYU - THEATER CLASS - DAY

Riley and Nigel are in a similar boat, arriving to their first shared class: musical theater seminar. Riley excitedly squeezes Nigel’s arm as they arrive, walking through the doors and scanning the chairs assembled in a half-circle for a place to sit.

Who should Riley find in that search but another familiar face. EVAN SCOTT is in this class, apparently also a member of the NYU freshman class. He smiles when he spots her, and she returns it brightly, thrilled to recognize someone else. She heads towards him and gestures eagerly for Nigel to follow.

Riley: Evan, right?

Evan: That’s the name. Honored to be remembered by the one and only Riley Matthews.

Riley: Oh, please. Are these seats taken?

Evan: Have at it.

Riley beams, dropping into the seat next to Evan while Nigel occupies the one on her other side. He leans around her and nods to Evan, not sharing their easy familiarity.

Nigel: You know each other?

Riley: Oh, yes! Sorry. Evan, this is the effortlessly talented Nigel Chey. Nigel, Evan.

Evan extends a hand, Nigel shaking it.

Evan: Nice to meet you. If you’ll forgive me for being a Havie.

Nigel: Oh, Haverford. You’re not one of the ones who like, tormented Charlie, are you?

Evan: [ with a laugh ] Disputed as that claim may be, no. Me and Charlie are cool -- I’ve been following his trip updates on Instagram, on the off chance he posts them. I’m super jealous.

Riley, proudly: Evan is above the rivalry. That’s something we agreed on when we met.

Evan: With someone like you representing Adams, hard not to want to set aside the heavy artillery.

Riley laughs, waving him off playfully. Nigel looks back and forth between them, smiling along but obviously feeling a bit left out of the loop. It’s crazy, how Riley seems to automatically have or make friends everywhere they go.

The small talk dies down as their professor, PROFESSOR HILL (40s), enters the room and starts class. There’s about 30 of them assembled for this class, which she emphasizes will make for more collaborative, deep, and intimate work as they start exploring musical theater. Since this will be a small and tight-kit class, they’ll be kicking off this first class with introductions. She opens the floor, allowing anyone who wants to volunteer to take the stage.

Naturally, the room goes quiet, stalled with the fundamental need to avoid going first (especially rampant among freshmen)... but then Riley raises her hand. Putting her best foot forward.

Riley: I can go.

The professor smiles, gesturing for her to stand and deliver. Riley takes a deep breath and then gets to her feet, authentic charm activated as she greets her new peers and introduces herself. She expresses her enthusiasm for what they’re going to learn that semester, the opportunity to be in this cool program with so many talented people, and humbly admits to a bit of trepidation at all of the newness that she’s sure they’ll all overcome in no time.

It’s impressive, the sheer difference in delivery between this woman and the shy, uncertain girl who stepped into a new school three seasons ago. Riley has done a lot of growing to get where she is now – openly keen, quietly confident, willing to be the one to step up and lead.

Well as this goes over, of course, not everyone is so won over. A smattering of her peers don’t seem impressed, reading her eagerness more as sucking up than stepping up. But overall, she makes a good first impression, many of her classmates and her professor smiling along through her introduction. She offhandedly mentions her friend Nigel in remarks about where they came from, and that they’re excited about where they’re going to go from here at NYU.

Nigel does seem especially proud to be friends with the girl brave enough to go first… that is, until it puts unexpected attention on him. Given Riley made the connection, the professor asks him if he’d like to go next.

Nigel: Oh. Um… uh…

Riley, now back in her seat, gives him an encouraging nod. But for whatever reason, the brain train has stopped in its tracks, and Nigel’s got nothing.

Professor: Or not. We’ll come back to Riley’s friend here, then.

Nigel manages a weak smile, trying to pass it off as just a bit of humor. Ha ha… Evan offers to go next, sparing him any further pain by elongating the silence.

Evan: Don’t see how I could possibly follow Matthews here, but the show must go on.

The class chuckles, easing some of the awkwardness. Nigel laughs along, trying to wipe the embarrassment from his memory, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Maybe this isn’t going to be all that different from the Triple A monarchy days after all…

INT. NYU - CLASSROOM - DAY

The next class Isadora walks into seems to have more promise from the get-go -- Exploring the Genre: Science Fiction and Thriller / Horror. It’s one of the specialized genre classes they take as freshman, and Isadora was very excited about getting to choose one of the genres that got her into film in the first place.

And stepping in the classroom seems to make Riley’s wish come true that things could still look up. This class is much smaller than the lecture, about 30 - 40 students in the room rather than 100s, and far less White Film Boys than the general major seems to hold.

Best of all? A woman is in charge. A young, quirky-looking professor is standing by the desk in the front of the room, smiling and greeting students as they enter the room and mentally taking count as they file in. She’s got a trendy long bob haircut, tattoos visible peeking out on her collarbone and forearm, and the same sort of easy vibes as Harper. This is PROFESSOR CHELSEA SCHWARTZ (30s).

Once the full class has made it in, Chelsea takes to the front of the room and introduces herself. Her opening monologue is eons less egotistical than Wright’s, and she puts a clear emphasis on the students as she starts to describe their curriculum and what they’ll be exploring. She hands out a syllabus and a sheet of paper, instructing others to pass them down the rows.

Chelsea: The single sheet there is your first homework assignment -- I know, I know, but this won’t be terrible. I promise. It’s just an informational sheet about you, most questions voluntary, to help me get a better sense of who you are and what you’re interested in. Your goals, your dreams, your favorite character from It’s Always Sunny. You know how it is. [ off the class chuckles ] So before we dive into the wonderful world of syllabi, I want you all to get the chance to get to know one another. This is going to be a more friendly class than some of your other lectures, so let’s start on that now.

Lovely, icebreakers… but doing it in a small group isn’t so bad. And doing it with other film and sci-fi nerds is about as good as Isadora figures it’s going to get. They go around the small circle and introduce themselves, but surprisingly, when it lands on Isadora, she finds herself hesitating.

Isadora: I’m Isado -- Isa. [ a beat ] Yeah, Isa.

No clue where that instinct came from… but doesn’t feel like the wrong move. No one here knows her, so if she wants to redefine herself or start with a clean slate, this is the chance to tell them so. No Dora. No Izzy. No Smackle.

Just Isa.

EXT. NAPLES STREETS - DAY

Charlie and Bridgette are just rounding out their walkabout unofficial tour of the area, stopping at a gelato vender for a quick treat (I mean, it’s an Italian must). Charlie does the talking, sharing a bit of small talk with the local vendor and demonstrating a comfortable rapport with his current neighborhood -- even in another language. Bridgette watches them interact, evidently impressed, then manages a thanks for the gelato as they depart.

They eat it as they continue to walk, Charlie continuing to point out the features and highlights of his corner of Naples. He’s got a read on the best restaurants and cafes, a bit of gossip surrounding the townsfolk, and of course, he knows where to find the nearest book shop. And as they go, friendly faces continue to greet Charlie and exchange niceties with him, like he’s one of them. Like he’s been there his whole life.

Remarkably, it’s like he’s more seen and known here than he ever was in the Upper East Side. That, on top of the relaxed demeanor and vaguely cool European style, is almost jarring. Bridgette observes all of it with intrigue and subtle fascination.

Bridgette: You’re like a little trivia factory. Do you think you’re going to be able to stop this side of you when you get back? Are you gonna start giving tours of Central Park? You’ll have to show everyone the statue where Skippy peed and got chastised by the street patrol which made you cry on his behalf -- it’s very culturally significant.

Charlie scoffs, looking away in embarrassment. Sorry Charlie, she’s your older sister, it’s her job to remind you of your dorky roots… but something about his reaction seems like it might run a bit deeper than that. Bridgette notices, too, particularly when he doesn’t really respond and simply changes the subject, jumping to the earlier part of her statement.

Charlie: Just wait until we go to Pompeii. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ve been reading a ton about it in preparation.

Bridgette: Of course you have. I’m kind of amazed you haven’t gone already. I would’ve thought, nerdy history and culture lover you are, that you’d’ve been all over that from like day one.

Charlie: Well, I was waiting for you. It was one of the one things you explicitly expressed interest in. And I wanted something for us to be able to experience together.

Ah, yes, there’s the Charlie we know so well. Disarmingly considerate, thoughtful, and unbelievably nerdy as he launches into preemptive trivia he’s read about Pompeii. Bridgette smiles, allowing him to carry on.

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

As Farkle heads out of acting class into the annoyingly bright sunshine, a gaggle of his peers exit at the same time and call to catch his attention. They introduce themselves casually, prompting Farkle to do the same.

Farkle: Uh, Farkle.

Peer 1: Farkle? [ with humor ] Dude, you know that name is whack, right?

Farkle: I’ve been informed once or twice, yes.

Truly, like he’s never heard that one before… anyway, they were all just discussing the monologue assignment. Whenever they get monologue work, it’s like they all forget every monologue they’ve ever delivered, ha ha. How about him? Has he thought about what he might do yet?

Of course, it’s Farkle, so sure he has. Farkle rattles off his thought process without a hitch given they invited it out of him, running through a quick list of three or four initial options (mainly from classic works) with pros or cons to each of them as an initial monologue.

They asked, but it’s clear his peers weren’t necessarily ready for a Farkle Minkus answer. They simply stare at him for a long moment, then a couple of them laugh, nodding in approval and bewilderment.

Peer 2: You are intense, man.

It’s not said like an insult, but Farkle doesn’t necessarily take it as a compliment either. It’s more like his classmates just simply don’t know what to make of him, so early on, and Farkle’s spent so long in the bananas embrace of Adams that he forgot just how far from next to normal he usually feels.

As some melancholy acoustic guitar floats in…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Although he’s just a junior producer, Josh is doing his best to build a strong portfolio of his own. He manages a very small roster of clients – those that have elected to entrust him with their careers and take a chance on a relative unknown rather than wasting time trying to get the attention of the big leagues – and it’s a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly. That’s why he’s taken the time to clean the coffee off his shirt to the best of his ability… which now just looks more like a giant smudge, but hey, we can call it fashion.

The one he’s meeting with this morning is an alternative singer-songwriter, exuding alt-hippie-punk energy with a hint of stoner flair. She’s crashed on the couch in the recording studio with her chunky combat boots resting on the back of the couch against the wall, six-string laying across her torso as she leisurely strums some chords. Even just from her humming and light vocal riffing, we can tell she’s a vocal talent. This is Kit Young, but she’s known mainly as CRICKET (late 20s).

While Josh is grateful for every client he has, they aren’t all instant hits. Cricket’s issue, as we quickly come to realize, is that for all the talent she has, she isn’t that great at producing actual concrete material… which is to say, she hasn’t produced anything yet.

Cricket: I don’t know, man. I’m thinking like… I mean [ sitting upright ] visualize with me here, Josh. I just want you to picture it.

Josh: Okay, I’m picturing.

Cricket: A concept album… but the tracks are just… empty. White noise. 

Josh: Is Spotify broken?

Cricket: No, but that’s exactly it, right?! You click into this album, this long-awaited hype, and… nothing. It’s just empty. Void. And you have that moment of panic and you realize, right then, just how foundational music is to us. It’s life blood, man! And the moment it seems like you can’t have it, you feel that fear. Talk about a way to make us all like… wake up to the way we live on music, how we so take it for granted in this vapid era and industry of immediacy and overconsumption. 

Josh: Sure, totally.

Cricket: It’s like a metaphor, you know? The empty album represents the way we artists are conformed and pressured to deliver these soulless vacuums of enterprise, these products that are made to fill a quota, a gross income projection, rather than expressing the deepest parts of our souls. That’s what music is to me, you know, my soul. That’s what I want my music to be.

Josh: And I love that. A stunt release like that would be dope, for sure. [ a beat ] But before we can get the label to agree to that, we need to have some other successful output under our belts first.

Cricket: See? That’s exactly what I’m saying. You said that totally right.

Josh: … right. And so how is that single coming?

Cricket: Yeah, right. Right, the single. I’m working on it. Josh, you know I’ve got stuff in the pipeline. I’m gonna get it to you. Swear on it.

Yeah, and he was born yesterday… Josh does believe in Cricket’s talent and ability, but her work ethic leaves something to be desired.

But thankfully, she isn’t the only client on his roster. While Cricket devolves back into her idea for empty tracks, Josh checks his phone, where he’s gotten an email from the manager of another one of his clients.

“just finished the first demo of the new track with IRIS. gonna be a big one bet. will send to ur inbox tonight would love thoughts xx”

Now Josh is excited. The promise of something brilliant from his most promising client is enough to rally his energy, spark back in his eyes as he tunes back into Cricket’s hazy musical daydreaming.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

After a full day with the baby tots, Lucas is exhausted, but the low-wage diner life waits for no one. He emerges from the back room for his shift just as another familiar face enters the diner, Zay having just finished his classes for the day.

A quick scan of the place doesn’t show any signs of his friends… sans Lucas, who barely counts, and neither of them seem keen to talk to the other. Still, Zay bothers to ask, wondering if Lucas knows whether Riley is going to be around soon. There’s a lot he wants to tell her about the first day…

But no such luck. Riley’s in class for another hour. Isa’s preparing for an evening class, and Zay knows Nigel is already home because he got stuck babysitting his brother. All that leaves is Lucas, who he’s really not interested in telling all about his day (and who doesn’t seem all that interested to know).

So he’s on his own. Zay awkwardly thanks Lucas and heads out, deciding he may as well go home and call it a day. Everyone’s busy with their own things, off on their own timelines…

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Not that all of Zay’s friends are only confined to New York. He thinks about one in particular as he pulls out his phone, clicking into his messages and checking their thread.

No news from Charlie. No updates. Not even a response to his last text, the one he sent almost two weeks ago saying he was thinking of him. What an embarrassing thing to admit, since it seems Charlie can’t spare much of a thought back for him.

Zay sighs, shaking his head. He’s not going to think that way -- he knows Charlie is a reliably awful texter even on a good day, and he’s not going to begrudge him for doing what everyone else is too. Living his new life. Especially with the time difference. People get busy. People forget things. It happens.

But doesn’t make being the one forgotten or left behind sting any less.

INT. ITALIAN HOSTEL - CHARLIE’S ROOM - NIGHT

In this case, Charlie is preoccupied, since he’s got company. He and Bridgette are getting ready to go out for the evening, planning to go see some live theater production that Bridgette only half-jokes seems like a waste of time since she won’t be able to understand any of it anyway. But it’s culture, Bridgette! Art! Drama! That’s what Italy is all about, damn it!

Their usual sibling dynamic is wholly interrupted by visitors popping into the room, a couple of Charlie’s hostel friends eagerly greeting him after just returning from a day-long boat trip. The girl is MATILDE (21), a pretty brunette from Milan who does most of the talking with a fast-paced, chipper delivery that could rival Riley Matthews; the boy is a tall, good-looking but somewhat awkward Geordie from the UK named MAX (22).

Chill as they are with him, Charlie bizarrely kind of freezes up when they show up. Bridgette notices the way his demeanor shifts, becoming more aloof, and she catches the way he nervously glances in her direction as his hostel mates address him and take over the conversation.

He gets really awkward when they finally actually realize Bridgette is there. Matilde turns her attention to her, eyes brightening in interest.

Matilde: Ciao, sei appena arrivato?

Bridgette: Uh… sorry. I’m one of those bitches who only speaks English.

Max: [ in accented English ] Oh, thank God. Don’t worry, my Italian is shite too and I’ve been here for two weeks.

Matilde: Yes, it’s okay, I speak English too. Where do you come from?

Bridgette: Same hell as Charlie. I’m his sister.

At this, Matilde gasps in delight, jaw dropping open.

Matilde: Charlie! You did not tell us you had a sister.

Oh, did he not? Now that is interesting… and from the way his cheeks are visibly flushing, that summer tan isn’t going to do him much good concealing his embarrassment. Bridgette side-eyes him, already insatiably curious to know why the hell that’s the case considering they’re supposedly such a big part of his life (they’re sitting on his windowsill, after all). But first, she has to punish him a little bit for it, so she innocently carries on.

Bridgette: Oh, he sure does. I’m one of four.

Matilde: Four sisters? 

Max: Wow.

Matilde: Charlie…

Bridgette: Yes, Charlie…

Charlie, defensively: It just… didn’t come up.

Hm… Bridgette doesn’t look like she entirely buys that. But anyway, she’s here now, and Matilde and Max are so keen to meet another one of Charlie’s friends! Or, well, siblings in this case! They ask what she’s already gotten to do, when she arrived, what plans they have…

Matilde: Oh, Charlie, you have to bring her to Incendio.

Max: Oh, fuck yeah. That’ll be class.

Charlie: Uh, I wasn’t thinking of –

Bridgette: What’s Incendio?

Matilde: Only the best nightclub in Naples. It’s a bit underground, but if you find your way in, it is the best dancing and the best drinks in the city. Without a doubt the perfect dance floor. Magnifico.

Max: And the hottest people.

Matilde: It’s so fun. And Charlie is one of the best dancers there when we go.

Charlie: Um, I really wouldn’t say –

Max: Yeah, he’s real popular.

Oh, IS HE NOW? Bridgette is wildly amused by these revelations, though she’s very good at maintaining a fairly neutral exterior. Charlie, on the other hand, looks like he wants to explode – any easy confidence he may have seemed to have before has all but evaporated.

And Bridgette can sense that, so she spares him the trauma for now. She claims they did have other plans for this evening – culture, and all that – but maybe some other night while she’s here. Charlie pathetically claims he was planning to show her some of the nightlife, just maybe not that particular club…

Matilde: Charlie, no. Come on. You have to. It’s our favorite.

Bridgette: Yes, Charlie, I really think you have to show it to me now.

Great… ha ha. Charlie manages a smile.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora settles at her desk, ready to start on homework. There isn’t too much to do just yet; the main assignment is the informational sheet that Professor Schwartz handed out in class.

She fills out her age and birthday at the top, and puts her name down as “Isa,” then… pauses when she notices the question asking for her gender. Her pen hovers above the checkbox next to “Female,” but something is preventing her from checking it. Isadora frowns, unsure why she’s even struggling, before deciding to just move on and come back to it later.

The next question is about her family background. This is the first of the optional questions, and after a moment’s thought, Isadora decides to write about growing up in foster care, her mother dying, and then being adopted by Eric. She doesn’t specify her mom’s name in the explanation of her family, since it isn’t needed, but does mention that her mother abandoned her to chase fame in Hollywood. Familiar…

She continues through the sheet, but when she gets back to gender, she still can’t check any of the boxes. It’s like something in her brain just isn’t allowing her to answer.

She can’t be bothered to come to a conclusion right now; she has more important things to do. Like organizing her pencil case… or rereading the assigned material for one of her regular classes. Whatever her sudden issue with gender is can wait.

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

Farkle is grappling with indecision of his own, though not around school. He’s distracted by obsessing over the agent again, flipping the business card over in his fingers. The main reason he made this big decision, the reason he gave up everything he had going in New York to come see this thing through… and yet, nothing. It feels like a glaring dead end.

Farkle pulls up email on his phone, checking the thread with Jonathan Turner. Farkle’s email remains the only one, sent but apparently unread. Or read but unanswered, purposefully or otherwise being the most haunting question.

Welcome to Hollywood. Farkle closes his fist around the card, bending it as he presses his knuckles against his chin.

INT. JOSH’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

On the TV in a cramped living area in North Hollywood, someone is playing Stardew Valley on an Xbox gaming system. This someone is Josh’s good friend and roommate, ANDREW HALL (24), who is enjoying his evening post-work with some good old-fashioned video gaming. He’s not far into the game, but he’s sure invested in making his little avatar plant some seeds.

Andrew: Bro, how is this farming shit so addictive…

He sits up straighter when the front door opens, Josh finally returning back to the apartment. Andrew pauses the game.

Josh, tiredly: Heyo.

Andrew: Man, where the hell have you been? I was about to file a missing person’s report on your ass.

Josh: That would’ve been presumptuous. You’re supposed to give it forty-eight hours.

Andrew: Well, I’m sorry. You don’t come home at night, a man worries. And I know like hell you weren’t getting any, so where the hell were you?

Josh shoots him a disdainful glare before he disappears into the fridge, pulling out an energy drink. His lack of a response speaks for him though, Andrew groaning and shaking his head.

Andrew: Did you fall asleep at the office again?

Josh: Not intentionally.

Andrew: I swear, your healthy boundaries are beyond saving. I should report that damn place for exploitative labor. 

Josh: You and your reports. I’m fine, all right? Just got a lot to do.

Andrew: So do I, and you know what? I still manage to clock out by six. And you know why, Josh?

Josh, mockingly: “Because I have a work-life balance.”

Andrew: Because I have a work-life bal – okay, you know what? Fuck you. I’m tryna farm here, and you’re harshing the vibe with your corporate brainwashing. Joja Corp. looking ass.

Josh claims Andrew doesn’t get it, because he has a normal career in a normal field like engineering. The arts are different. To make it out here, you’ve gotta give it all or nothing – and Josh is close. He feels like he’s so, so close to making a breakthrough.

Andrew has heard this all before, many times. He waves him off, slouching back against the couch cushions.

Andrew: Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Leave me and my melon seeds be.

Josh takes a pointed sip of his energy drink, passing Andrew and heading to his room.

INT. JOSH’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

And though he’s clearly exhausted, his work isn’t quite done yet for the day. He takes off his beanie and tosses it onto his desk, collapsing onto his bed that’s basically just a mattress stacked on a cheap wire frame about a foot off the ground. He leans back against the wall and pulls his laptop from the nightstand, opening it and finding the email from the manager of “Iris” as promised.

Willing his energy to last him another few minutes, he turns on his headphones and slides them over his ears. He cues up the demo and listens…

And everything changes. In an instant, life returns to Josh’s drained underpaid body, eyes widening and posturing straightening. He starts nodding his head along to the music, and already we can see the ideas forming in his mind – arrangements, small tweaks, producer’s touches that will elevate this song to the next level.

This is it. This is the song that is going to change everything.

Josh: Fuck YES!

Josh turns up the volume and jumps to his feet, grooving around his tiny bedroom while he listens to the new song. Though it’s not the same track, an upbeat, bumping track of our own kicks off –

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

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Nice To Meet Ya” as performed by Niall Horan || Performed by Maya Hart

Maya is preparing for her first audition. She’s back in full diva form, her hair and makeup glamorous and glossy. She smacks her painted lips together before taking a step back from the mirror. She checks herself out, impressed with her overall look. She gives herself a wink, oozing with confidence.

I like the way you talk, I like the things you wear I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear

She’s definitely feeling herself as she sings out what she imagines the producers she’ll be auditioning for will be thinking. As she sings “disappear,” Maya spins around in her room, arms outstretched. The camera spins with her, taking us into another scene.

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

And we’re off onto the whirlwind of auditions Maya is chasing this week. She confidently struts into her first one, where a table of four PRODUCERS are waiting for her. As she approaches them, Maya introduces herself…

I wanna blow your mind, just come with me, I swear

She moves onto her mark, performing the rest of the verse for them.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

When we move into the chorus, the four producers stand around Maya in an empty space, the camera spinning around them as they repeatedly tell Maya, “I got love for you.”

Maya smirks from the middle of the circle as she tells them, “Nice to meet ya…”

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Maya enters another audition room, almost identical to the last one. The four producers sitting behind the table, however, are all Maya, dressed in different outfits. It kind of has One-Direction-talking-to-themselves in the “Best Song Ever” music video energy, each version of Maya a different Hollywood-esque caricature. It’s as if she’s still looking into her mirror, playing pretend as she tells herself what she wants to hear in her auditions.  

Nice to meet ya, what’s your name? Let me treat ya, to a drink

Maya walks towards the table of her producers from her mark as she auditions for them, a flirtatious tone to her voice and in her expression. She talks them up, complimenting them for her own benefit. In this case, that’s not hard to do, considering they’re all her.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

Just like the previous chorus, the four Maya producers join the earlier ones in the imaginary space. Maya laps up their praise, each compliment adding to her confidence.

Suddenly, the producers disappear and Maya is left alone. She glances around, takes a deep breath, then takes off running to the next audition.

INT. VARIOUS AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

As she sings the bridge, she makes her way through several different auditions. A mix of regular producers and their Maya counterparts watch her and make notes.

You know what I need, you know what I want You know what I need now

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - DAY

When the song momentarily slows, Maya stops running. She’s back in the empty space, and one Maya-producer stands in front of her, dressed in a smart suit, reminiscent of Taylor Swift’s “The Man” music video. The producer looks Maya up and down as she gets close, inspecting her in detail.

Nice to meet ya, what’s your name? Let me treat ya, to a drink

The producer steps back, joining all of the producers that appeared previously, both normal and the Maya versions. They all circle around Maya, who looks between them, constantly changing her focus as she sings.

The camera goes in close to Maya as she sings the final “Nice to meet ya…”

INT. AUDITION ROOM - DAY

When we zoom out, we see that Maya is in another audition room, standing in front of a table of new producers and having just finished her audition. She’s out of breath, having given it her all, and the reception from the producers is pleasant. Pleasant, but not effusive. Hard to read.

Welcome to the industry. Maya flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and gives them one last dazzling smile before strutting out of the room.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade is at her desk, immersing herself in the output of the company by flipping through lookbooks and sketches that are essentially considered study materials for the new apprentices each year. She’s finished much of her menial tasks for the day already.

But her adventures in apprenticing are truly just beginning. She’s startled when Melanie appears at her desk, cheerfully greeting her and carrying a stack of thick black binders.

Melanie: Now that you’ve been here for a month and haven’t buckled yet, it’s time to start introducing you to more assignments. Where you’re going to start is with the inventories.

She drops the hulking binders on Jade’s desk, causing the whole thing to shudder. Jade’s picture of her and Nigel almost falls over, but she catches it just in time and holds it in place. Melanie carries on without notice.

Melanie: With three shows on the horizon and Paris fashion week wanting preliminary designs by end of the month, this is an important part of the process. Your job is to go through each binder and make sure the inventory information prepared here in the catalogue matches our database, and that all the information is up-to-date.

Sure, sounds easy enough… except for the fact that these binders are thick. Jade tentatively flips open the one on top, skimming her thumb along what must be at least 100 pages. Even better, the database she’s supposed to work off of isn’t even fully online – Melanie drops their handwritten catalogue of information on top of the stack.

Honestly, what exactly Jade is supposed to be doing here hardly matters. What matters is that it’s clearly a lot, and it’s clearly going to be mind-numbing, tedious, time-consuming work.

Melanie: We need this by, oh… end of the week. You can handle that, right?

Jade: Um… sure. No biggie.

To be fair, Jade has been working under insane deadlines for years with Adams, but at least costuming is a very active, creative job and something she actively loves. Paperwork… not exactly the most glamorous gig.

But she’s putting in her time at the bottom rung, and she’ll do whatever needs to be done. She can probably learn something out of it at least, getting exposed to their inventory system and such. Melanie leaves her with the binders and a “best of luck” that feels far from sincere.

Jade releases a grounding sigh and then pulls the handwritten inventory record off the top of the pile, deciding to start her investigation there.

EXT. NEW YORK COLLEGE OF THE ARTS - DAY

Zay and Henrik are walking campus, their attire indicating they’ve come from a morning rehearsal / workout session together. While Henrik is on his way to a ballet seminar and then freestyle lab – and clearly keen for it – Zay is remarkably less enthused. His schedule today is loaded with his absolute least favorite thing: academia. As he explains, one big piece of the transfer experience is that aside from the transfer-specific courses, they frontload your first year with a whole bunch of general education credits so that you have them out of the way and it doesn’t interfere with you jumping into the program theoretically one year behind.

That’s not a bad strategy, and as Henrik points out in his effort to cheer him up, it will be nice to be done with all those boring academic classes early on. True, but he has to get through them first… which he is not enthused about as he stops outside his lecture hall. Henrik pats him on the back and wishes him luck before continuing on his way.

Zay turns toward the humanities building, exhaling a weighted sigh.

INT. LECTURE HALL - DAY

Zay makes his way inside and finds a seat amidst the crowd, all of them settling in for their history and social sciences course requirement. The first slide being projected on the screen reads “War, Religion, and the Story of Nations: An Introduction to History & Philosophy.”

It’s a wonder just what exactly they’ll cover in such a broadly inclusive title, but it sounds like Zay’s worst nightmare. Still, it does make him think of something… he pulls up his messages and hovers over Charlie’s contact, starting to type a message.

But then he stops, looking at that last unanswered text. If Charlie wanted to answer, he probably would have. He’s busy. And is whatever silly dumb thing he wants to tell him really worth interrupting his travels?

Probably not. Zay swipes to a different contact instead, typing a different text.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Riley is in a Gen Ed class of her own when she gets his message, the notification popping up on her open laptop screen where she’s taking notes. She glances up towards the professor, who is clearly not paying her any attention in a room full of over one hundred students all doing the same as her, and then clicks open her messages to read it.

“just sat down in a class called war religion and the story of nations. pls kill me right now”

“literally how much u wanna bet tho that Charlie would’ve taken this for fun”

Riley does her best to hide her smile as to not tip off her reading something other than mathematical notes, typing out a response.

INT. LECTURE HALL - DAY

Zay reads Riley’s text as soon as it comes through, the two of them exchanging a few more messages before Zay’s class starts.

Riley Matthews: Hahahaha he so would have!! that sounds like that one book he was reading in the spring that he kept talking non-stop about

Zay Babineaux: he reads a lot of books and talks non-stop abt them. u’ll have to be more specific

Riley Matthews: it was the one that was like 500 pages

Zay Babineaux: still need more specifics

Riley Matthews: it was about like… like your class LOL. like the whole history of human kind in a nutshell. pretty sure you made some joke about its title and gay

Zay Babineaux: OH SAPIENS

Zay Babineaux: but no literally that is basically what this class is i’m pretty sure

Zay Babineaux: charlie would be so insufferable in a class like this. it would b hilarious

Riley Matthews: you’ll have to tell him about it for sure

There’s a pause between messages, then Riley starts typing again.

Riley Matthews: have you heard from him recently?

It’s sent casually enough, as most texts are able to appear, but the impact it has is immediate. Much of the levity of discussing their missing friend is zapped out of the conversation, just leaving the unaddressed feeling of his absence in its wake.

On the one hand, if Riley’s asking, at least that means he isn’t the only one being metaphorically left on read. On the other, if Charlie’s slipping more and more off the grid, then Zay can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever hear from him again. Maybe the allure of freedom and romance and adventure abroad is so superior, he’ll simply never come back.

It’s something Zay clearly doesn’t want to consider, and thankfully, his professor starting the lecture gives him an escape hatch. But as the course begins, he shoots off an answer as to not leave Riley hanging.

INT. NYU - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Riley frowns, not having to work to hide that expression change.

Zay Babineaux: nope

Definitely not the answer she wanted.

INT. NYU - FILM CLASSROOM - DAY

Isadora enters her next class, a mix of hesitant and excited. It’s her first actual production course, as the writing on the whiteboard indicates, and this is a much more intimate class. There’s only about fifteen of them in this section, a fraction of their year. Feels closer to being back in the A class.

Still, Isadora doesn’t know anyone yet, so she keeps to herself as she finds a desk closer to the front of the room. It’s a smaller classroom than any she’s been in yet, which seems to be more to her liking. She can’t get a read on her classmates yet just from a glance, but that doesn’t stop her from trying… and she gets caught doing so by one of them, a pretty Indian girl. She offers Isadora an awkward but pleasant smile.

It scares Isadora off just the same. Embarrassing! Thankfully, she’s spared having to think on it further by their professor entering the classroom, any minimal chattering dimming to silence as he shuts the door behind him and heads to the desk in the corner of the room without a greeting.

This guy is nothing like the other professors Isadora has confronted so far. He’s not smartly dressed like Professor Wright but neither is he trendy like Professor Schwartz. He’s… well, to be honest, he just seems like some guy, bespectacled and plainly dressed in a flannel and jeans. He’s nearly bald, with just a thin sheen of hair, and he most definitely has resting bitch face. This is PROFESSOR DAVID BENNET (40s).

He drops his bag in the desk chair and then turns to look at all of them, expression giving absolutely nothing away. He exhales through his nose -- not even a sigh to give them any sort of read -- and comes to lean against the front of the desk, half-sitting and crossing his arms.

Bennet: Welcome to Film Production 150.

No offense, sir, but you don’t sound especially welcoming. Isadora does her best to hide her own expression, hoping not to betray her unimpressed reaction so early on.

Bennet: This is the only actual production class they let you have your first semester, A.K.A, this is the only class where you’ll actually get to learn something important. Knowledge and theory has its purpose, a useful tool in your belt, but it’s in this class that you’re going to actually flex your filmmaking muscles. You can’t do anything in this world without action, and to do anything worthwhile requires practice. So in this class, that’s what we’ll do -- make a whole lot of films to practice, practice, practice.

Now he’s winning some points. This is exactly what Isadora has been waiting for.

Bennet: So. [ with an eyebrow raise ] Who’s got something to show us?

Um. What now? Isa’s eyes widen, and she glances around at her peers. Did she miss a memo? Was there some assignment on the syllabus she didn’t see?

To her relief, others seem as confused as she does, but that only gives her so much comfort. Bennet lets the silence drag on a painfully long time, before he bluntly elaborates.

Bennet: No one? Nothing? [ a beat ] Rule number one in this industry: always have a sample ready. I know you’re film students, and you got in here for a reason -- supposedly, at least -- so you’ve got to have something. Who’s got Vimeo? Youtube? Maybe you’ve at least got your application materials on Drive?

Slowly, a couple of hands start to go up -- hesitant volunteers. Bennet nods to one of them, an uncertain African-American boy, and gestures for him to come on up and pull up whatever page he wants on the laptop at the front.

Bennet: Much as it makes me convulse, the industry today revolves around platforms. You want to have one that shows your best work, reflects everything you are and everything you want to be. Whether you have followers or subscribers or snapchatters or whatever is irrelevant -- it’s what you’ve got on it that matters. Think of it like your digital business card. That way, the next time someone asks you if you’ve got something to show them, you won’t be caught sitting there with panic on your face like you just remembered you left the oven on.

A few students chuckle at that, trying to get it to alleviate the tension. Isadora is not one of them. She’s still stunned by the unexpected expectation, startled by a theoretical pop quiz she knows she failed. Five minutes into what’s supposed to be her favorite class, and she’s already been tripped up by another old white dude who doesn’t seem to have an emotional bone in his body.

Great start to the day. Isadora is still frowning as Bennet dims the lights and they shift focus to her peer’s online portfolio.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Jade comes back to her desk with fresh coffee from the kitchen, in a custom-made mug that was obviously a gift. It’s got a picture of the techie crew on one side and then her nickname, “Pins ‘N Needles” on the other -- presumably, each of the techies has their own.

She takes a sip and then settles into her chair, carefully placing it down and pulling her new task towards her. She has to take a second to figure out where to even like… start, but once she gets herself oriented she dives into the task with her usual level of vigor.

Only it doesn’t last long. Jade runs into what seems like an error pretty quickly, cross-checking it against the information they have in their online database as well as the handwritten version. And with a few more minutes spent, Jade realizes pretty fast that the whole thing seems riddled with inconsistencies and errors throughout.

That seems a lot more daunting and time-consuming than Melanie made it out to be. Jade cautiously clears her throat and asks Jamal if he’s got a second, to which he nods happily. She asks about the project and the inconsistencies, wondering if there’s a protocol for how they’re supposed to handle it.

Jamal: Oh, you’re working on an inventory?

Jade: Yeah. Melanie gave it to me.

Jamal: Yeah, don’t sweat it. Like, check the items you need to check for the most recent thing, or whatever, but I wouldn’t get too caught up in the details.

Jade: … okay… but it’s wrong?

Skylar tunes into the conversation, pulling out an airpod to ask what’s up. Jamal fills her in, and she nods in recognition, also familiar with the task.

Skylar: That’s one of those things Melanie gives us early on to break us in. Kinda like hazing, because she’s a tiny pixie psychopath.

Jamal: Every apprentice does it. The main part that matters is the upcoming projects she’s highlighted -- as long as they’re right in that binder, then your job is done.

Skylar: People barely use the inventories anyway.

Right. For sure, for sure… Jade doesn’t seem convinced, but it does seem like a lot less work to just focus on the assigned portion and not clean up after everybody else. And Jamal and Skylar are both seasoned apprentices who have stuck around, so they would know. They haven’t steered her wrong yet. So she puts her head down and doesn’t ask any more questions.

EXT. GLOBAL BEAT - DAY

Josh is in much more confident spirits as he heads into the office bright and early the next morning. He’s practically still dancing, the track from his client putting a spring in his step. Even as he’s having a less-than-agreeable back-and-forth with Riley on the phone, he’s got a smile on his face.

Riley: All I’m asking is you give them a chance.

Josh: Riley, I get what you’re doing, and you’re a great friend for doing it. Seriously, more people in the world should be like you.

Riley: Well, this is your chance to be that good in the world!

Josh sighs, stepping into the doors of the Global Beat headquarters.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Josh emerges from the elevator with phone still to his ear, carrying on the conversation. He waves or nods to coworkers as he goes.

Josh: I’m not trying to be a dick, but I just really don’t have the time to be meeting up with all your little friends. I have my own stuff going on.

Riley: I know, I know, but this goes hand-in-hand with your stuff you’ve got going on. Because you’re always looking to nurture new talent, aren’t you? Finding the next hot and happening act?

Josh: Yes…

Riley: Then this is exactly what you’re looking for! I swear to you, Farkle, Yindra, and Maya are some of the most talented people I have ever met. They are destined to make it big. Don’t you want to be in on the ground floor of that?

Josh: I’m not saying they aren’t, but --

Riley: This isn’t me pitching them to you as my friends. Don’t think of it as oh, I’m meeting Riley’s silly high school friends. This is a serious business matter, and I’m presenting you with unlimited star potential.

Josh: Why are you going into theater again? You should really be going into sales. Or like, politics. Didn’t you get your basket case boyfriend elected even though he was almost expelled like five times?

Riley: Josh. Pleeease? Please say you’ll consider it. Please. Please. Please --

There’s that uncle-niece dynamic shining through. Josh makes it to his desk, groaning and agreeing mainly just so Riley will lay off.

Josh: Okay, okay okay okay! Fine, you win. I will consider meeting with them.

Riley: Thank you, thank you! Seriously, Josh, you’re not going to regret it.

Josh: But they have to reach out to me. And it’ll have to be around my schedule. No guarantees --

Riley: Of course, totally. I will tell them. THANK YOU!

Josh hums a reluctant agreement and tells her goodbye, not wasting a second once he’s free. He drops his stuff and then grabs his laptop, making a beeline for the recording studios.

He isn’t going to need Riley’s friends. He’s got a hit to start mixing.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

There’s less momentum in another pocket of L.A., Maya loafing around the apartment between auditions. When she’s out there doing the thing, she’s nothing but star power, but when she gets back to their place and she has nothing going on, it clearly deflates her a bit.

This is especially true given she’s all alone. Farkle’s in class for so much of the week, which leaves her to her own devices -- a fact that hangs over her but she tries not to think about, always forcing herself to look away when she finds herself casting a glance towards his empty room.

She has found other ways to keep busy, though. On her baby pink laptop, she’s doing social media maintenance, keeping her Youtube, Instagram, and TikTok updated. She’s savvy enough to realize that a platform is crucial for any aspiring performer these days, and so she sure is delivering. We can see she’s made videos about her recent run of auditions, and on her Instagram, she’s got a glam photo promising a new video soon about her style tips specifically for auditions -- how to balance unforgettable glamor with grounded function that will make anyone the ideal person to cast just from a look.

Her efforts have been ongoing since the summer, and it shows -- she’s already got a decent starting follower count. Not Dylan Orlando levels, or anything, but she’s got an audience.

EXT. PERFORMING DINER - DAY

One of whom might be someone she already knows. Yindra has Maya’s Instagram pulled up on her phone during her break, sort of envy-scrolling through it. Just like the days of Adams, it seems as though Maya just has it all effortlessly figured out, and her confidence bleeds through the page… confidence that Yindra seems to have all but lost under the relentless grind.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

On the flip side, Lucas spends far more time avoiding his phone than envy-scrolling through it. He only pulls it from his pocket during techie seminar that afternoon because Riley is texting him, wishing him a good day and ever so gently reminding him that he needs to submit his time capsule items.

That’s not the only unread text he’s got, though. Just a couple message threads down, his thread with his mother is bolded denoting it has unread messages, the most recent one previewed on the screen:

“Will you be home tonight? Hoping for a little help with…”

Lucas hovers over the message, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to open it. For whatever reason, he’s more comfortable leaving it unopened, pretending he never saw it. That he’s unreachable, and that he doesn’t need to feel guilty for that.

He’s spared for now by Timmy darting into the wings, giving him an update in a perplexing delivery that’s both nonplussed and inappropriately excited.

Timmy: TA Friar? Bean stapled himself to the curtain again.

Lucas’s expression says everything. For the love of fucking God. He rolls his eyes and goes to address this bizarre freshman dilemma, Timmy following after him in delight.

At least this problem has a simple -- if ridiculous -- solution.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - LOBBY - DAY

Nigel is departing from campus for a change of scenery today, waiting in the lobby of the Anya Kelly studio to be led inside. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself while he waits, feeling distinctly like an outsider given he’s just some college kid -- and the receptionist might be watching him a bit too suspiciously. Nigel offers an awkward smile.

Nigel: Just waiting for my girlfriend. Like I said. She’ll be here any minute.

Receptionist: Mhm…

It’s unclear whether she just generally doesn’t trust this random teen hanging around the lobby, or if she doubts he even has a girlfriend to begin with. But his story is corroborated when Jade finally emerges from the elevator, grinning as she comes to greet him with a hug and quick kiss on the cheek.

Jade: Come on, I want to show you everything -- have a good lunch, Roz.

ROZ grunts in affirmation, allowing them to pass. Jade takes Nigel’s hand and leads him to the elevator, the latter looking very relieved to free of Roz’s scrutinizing glare.

INT. ANYA KELLY DESIGN STUDIO - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

They step out of the elevator and onto the main floor, Jade holding out her arms.

Jade: Welcome to the studio.

If Jade working hard in the costume loft of Adams was impressive back in the day, this set-up is that magic on steroids. It’s a flurry of activity, costumers and seamstresses working in their own rhythm with flourishes and urgency. Then you have the assistants, administrative and marketing teams, bringing the official corporate feeling to things. It’s a well-oiled, creative machine.

Nigel takes it all in with wide eyes and awe as Jade leads him through the floor, pointing out different people, roles, and techniques. No one really notices them -- she’s just the apprentice, after all, and Nigel is even less than that. Here, he’s just the boyfriend, so he’s nothing.

The reception is warmer when they make it to the apprentice corner, Jamal and Skylar hanging out at their desks and perking up when Jade introduces them.

Skylar: Hey, look who it is. Mister picture boy.

Nigel seems puzzled by this reaction at first, but then he sees the photographs on Jade’s desk. Though Asher also has presence, it’s not hard to tell them apart, and based on the photos picked, Nigel is obviously the boyfriend -- a fact he’s pleased with, if the small smile on his face is any indication. He accepts Jamal’s handshake.

As the group of them get to chatting, Jade explains that Nigel is just stopping by for lunch, but she wanted to show him the studio. Jamal and Skylar are all for it -- it’s nice to get some fresh blood in here every once in a while, remember there are people who exist on the outside of these walls. They ask Nigel what Jade has told him about the job, if it seems like the coolest job ever or quite possibly the seventh level of Hell.

Nigel isn’t sure how to answer, because honestly, Jade hasn’t said much about it. Like, they talk about it, of course, but she usually keeps the nitty-gritty details to a minimum. This is mainly because she’s still figuring it all out, and Jade only likes to speak on things when she knows what she’s talking about, but it still makes Nigel feel a bit odd that he doesn’t have an easy response.

But Jamal and Skylar don’t mind. In fact, they love it, claiming that they need to give Nigel the true Anya Kelly Studio tour then. Between the three of them, they can get Nigel up to speed in minutes -- and it’ll be a nice break from the menial tasks they’d have to do otherwise.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Around Here” as performed by 9 to 5 - The Musical Original Cast || Performed by Jamal Allen, Skylar Albright, Jade Beamon, & Nigel Chey (feat. Ensemble)

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

The lyric sheet makes this song pretty easy to visualize, as it’s mainly Jamal and Skylar sharing lines back and forth as they walk Jade and Nigel through the design studio. The tone takes on more of a satirical, cheeky slant with this duo, both of them kind of mocking the intensity of the whole thing, since we already know they’re both very laid back, and they’re exaggerating just to mess with Nigel -- kind of.

While they’re traversing the main floor, the rest of the employees in the studio take over the ensemble bits, singing along while they do their sewing and designing. Nigel is definitely overwhelmed by it all, sticking close to Jade and occasionally ducking behind her, like when he almost gets clocked by a rolling rack of costumes. She does her best not to laugh at him, but she’s obviously amused by Skylar and Jamal’s tour.

When they finish their first lap and make it back to their desks, they’re intercepted by Melanie, who takes the Roz bits. She sweetly chastises Jade’s desk decor and informs her such clutter is discouraged -- literally taking the photo of Nigel and placing it face down on the desk when he’s standing right there. But she doesn’t even notice him, considering she completely ignores his introduction when it happens.

Once they’re done spilling the tea about Melanie, Jamal and Skylar turn in unison and face Nigel and Jade, challenging him to recap everything they’ve just run through. Then the four of them hitch a ride on a costume rack to breeze through the main floor while the ensemble breaks into full musical theater song and dance -- definitely finally feeling like some classic AMBITION magic that we’re sorely missing without the assembled theatricality of the A class.

Once they dismount the racks and end up back at the desks, the number comes to a close, our tour of the real business world neatly concluded.

Jade: Get it?

Nigel: Got it.

Jamal/Skylar: Good!

Jade beams and pats Nigel’s arm, a small congratulations for surviving the run through.

INT. USC - MUSIC CLASSROOM - DAY

Farkle is in the midst of his one music class of the semester, Voice I for Musical Theater. Today though, they’re not focusing on singing but on the things which music is built upon -- music theory. The instructor, PROFESSOR WILHELM WEBER (50s), greets them all cheerfully before gifting them with a pop quiz of his own. This will assess how familiar each of them are with the foundational concepts of theory so that he can get a better baseline understanding of where they’re at as a class.

While most of the class groans at all of the above, Farkle is thrilled and only just manages to hide it to those who don’t know him. An analytical quiz about a more objective area of music is right up his alley, he loves a test, and it spares him the task of having to socialize with his peers. So when Professor Weber hands him his test, he happily dives right in.

Speaking of fabulous music, an absolutely grating off-key voice floats in, singing some pointedly uplifting lyrics…

It’s a great day, a great day, yeah! The best day, the very best day…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

The… unique talent singing this… unique song (aptly titled “Very Best Day”) is Josh’s second client and his first meeting of the day. The guy belting his tone-deaf little heart out is ERNEST FLOYD (19), an aspiring singer-songwriter. As far as looks go, he’s really just some guy, but he has a sort of pathetic way about him that is oddly endearing, particularly his big blue eyes. Kind of like how one might feel about a stray kitten with a missing eye, or a stuffed animal you pulled from the dumpster.

And here’s the thing about Floyd: he cares. A lot. You can tell just from watching him, much as you wish you could hit the mute button, that he’s passionate about music. He writes his own music! He takes advantage of every opportunity! He’s in there giving it his all!

If only he could carry a tune… Josh winces just slightly as Floyd goes for a high note, but he’s very good at maintaining a pleasant neutral expression. Today, it’s easier than ever, because he’s not really paying attention -- he’s more focused on the mix he’s doing of Iris’s single.

He only zones back into the present when Floyd finishes singing, addressing Josh directly.

Floyd: How was that take? Was that one good?

Josh: Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, really great, Floyd. 

Floyd: You think so? I felt pretty good about that one.

Josh: Yeah. Definitely. Kickass.

Floyd beams, starting to gather his things from the recording booth. When he steps out into the studio, he thanks Josh for another great session.

Josh, offhandedly: Yeah, for sure, man. You know I believe in you.

Floyd: I do, and that means a lot. I really appreciate how you always give it your best effort, how you take me and my music seriously. You know, it just shows how you’re so different from most of the folks in Hollywood --

Josh: [ not even looking at him ] Right, yeah, yeah. We’ll get together same time next week and work through the records.

For how admittedly rude Josh is being at the moment, so tied up in his big project, Floyd doesn’t pick up on it. He remains earnest as ever, thanking Josh again and happily agreeing same time next week. Josh doesn’t even remember to return the goodbye, reaching for his headset and pulling it on to dive deeper into the mix now that he’s alone again.

Nigel, pre-lap: Pretty cool set-up. Seems like there’s a lot going on.

EXT. PARK - DAY

Nigel and Jade have left the hectic office for their shared lunch, having found a picnic bench in a trendy little park tucked in the garment district. Jade nods along with his assessment, finishing chewing her bite of sandwich.

Jade: Basically always. But that’s the real world, you know? Unlike Adams, there are actual legal and financial consequences for not meeting a deadline or making a mistake.

Nigel: Hey, that’s not true. We had plenty of financial consequences. I feel like the A class found just about all of them in four years. And honestly, we got pretty close to many of the legal ones too.

Jade shakes her head, smiling. She gets a bit of mustard by her lip and Nigel takes care to dab at it with a napkin, helping make sure she doesn’t get her nice work clothes messy. She thanks him, putting in an effort to eat more cautiously -- she’s not used to having to be so aware of her outward appearance.

Nigel points out it doesn’t seem like Jade is getting to do much… well, designing. She shrugs.

Jade: Have to start somewhere. Skylar has been there for a year, and she’s just starting to get assigned to a couple of projects.

Nigel: What about Jamal? I thought he’d been there longer.

Jade: Not sure. But I’ve only been there a month, and I have to pay my dues first. Doing the paperwork, you know, stuff like that.

Nigel: Don’t they have administrative assistants for that?

Shh, Nigel… if you start to question the system too much, you’ll threaten its shaky foundations… and right now, Jade is just happy to be there at all. She’s fine doing the grunt work for a bit, and at least she’s getting paid something to do it. Chump change, sure, but it’s something.

Jade: A lot of positions like this, internships and stuff, they don’t pay anything. They give people “school credit,” like that’ll cover all the free labor they’re doing. I’m lucky I’m not in that situation, especially since I don’t even know if BMCC has that.

BMCC, or Borough of Manhattan Community College, is where Jade is taking evening and online classes towards an associate’s degree -- just in case all this doesn’t quite pan out the way she wants. Nigel reiterates his admiration for her taking a chance on this when the opportunity presented itself. He’s not sure he’d be bold enough to take a risk like that.

Particularly since he can’t even introduce himself in class. When Jade asks him how his first day went, he quickly sidesteps, redirecting to the work Jade is immersed in. She’s supposedly doing important paperwork-y things, what are some projects she’s working on?

Jade sighs, explaining to him the big inventory task Melanie just dumped in her lap. It’s nice to be able to talk through it, too, as the discrepancies are still bothering her.

Jade: Jamal and Skylar told me not to worry about it, that it was like that when they did it too, so it’s not like I need to do anything about it. But I don’t know, I just feel weird ignoring obvious errors. Like, isn’t that going to create more work down the line? Why didn’t anyone take the time in the first place to fix it instead of just passing down the problems? The culture of it is just so different -- you know if I tell Asher about this, he’ll have heart palpitations just hearing about it.

Nigel: Yeah, undoubtedly.

Jade: I know I should just do what I’ve been told to do and not ask so many questions. And it’s not like I have to do any more work than necessary, especially since they’re paying me, but they’re not paying me that much. [ with a huff ] It just makes me itch, you know? Knowing that something could be done better, be done right, and doing nothing.

It’s a weird situation to be in… very classic young adult workplace uncertainty. Nigel takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, then does his best to offer advice. Obviously, he doesn’t know the rules of Anya Kelly’s studio, let alone the industry, but he does know Jade. Her instincts have always been spot on. He’s just some college freshman chump, but in his opinion, if she feels like she should do something in a way that’s better, then she should follow her gut.

Jade smiles, taking the advice to heart. It’s nice to remember there’s a world outside those studio walls, where the people who really know her are there to lift her up.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

After finishing off a piece of homework, Isadora pulls out the informational sheet for Professor Schwartz from a pile of flyers and sheets of paper she’s collected over the first week.

The boxes under “gender” are still as empty as ever. There are a few options, not just male or female, but Isadora can’t settle on any of them. Even “other” isn’t right, because then she’d have to write what other was in the provided space, and she doesn’t think “I have no fucking clue” would be an acceptable answer.

Isadora frowns at the paper, totally stuck on what to do. This should be so easy; she’s been a girl from before she was even born, and never anything else. She should just say that.

But… she can’t. It just isn’t right. Why isn’t it right? What the hell is she?

Her eyes fall to where she’d written “Isa” as her name at the top of the sheet. Is that who she is now? Just… Isa? It felt liberating when she introduced herself as that in class… maybe she should go by that in the rest of her life, too, not just college.

The moment that thought comes to her, a mix of excitement and fear settles in her gut. A million thoughts fill her brain, swirling around together, thus making all of them undecipherable. She decides the best thing to do right now is vocalize what she’s thinking, so she gets up.

INT. NYU APARTMENT – DAY

Interrupting Riley on the couch where she’s working, Isadora asks if she can talk to her about something.

Riley: Yeah, sure. Let me just save this…

After doing just that, Riley moves her laptop and shuffles on the couch to make room for Isadora. Isadora sits, but for a moment doesn’t say anything, unsure where to even start. Riley asks if this is about Maya and/or Farkle, but Isadora shakes her head.

Isadora: It’s about college. Well, not really. It’s about me. But in relation to college. But also not.

It’s safe to say that Riley has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. Isadora sighs, then takes a moment to collect her thoughts.

Isadora: I introduced myself as Isa in class and now I’m wondering if I want to be known as Isa in general, not just in class.

Riley: Okay. Sure. That would be cool, if that’s what you want.

Riley waits for more, knowing that Isadora can’t be this confused and all over the place simply because of her name…

Isadora: I also… well, I don’t know my gender. [ a beat ] Like, obviously I know that I’m a girl, but also like… maybe I’m not?

Oh... oh! Riley’s eyes widen in surprise and intrigue, but she tries to keep her expression neutral while Isadora continues. 

Isadora: I don’t even know why it’s suddenly an issue. Like, I’ve never felt totally connected to the concept of gender, but I don’t know why that’s suddenly rearing its head now. I’m kind of worried that all this stuff with cutting my hair, changing from Isadora to Isa and questioning my gender is just me being like “LOL, let’s change my entire personality for no reason” again, you know? Like… is this even real? Or am I freaking out because of college and I should just stay who I’ve always been?

When Isadora doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Riley realizes that she’s done and gives her a warm smile. Isadora’s slightly afraid expression doesn’t shift as she anxiously waits for Riley to process what she was just told and respond.

Riley: I don’t think it’s ever a bad thing to explore your identity. No matter the reason why you started to question your gender, it’s a valid experience, and you’re allowed to explore it and figure out what feels most right for you.

Isadora blinks. Was that it? Just a “you’re valid” and a metaphorical pat on the back? Not exactly what she was hoping for… 

Isadora: So you don’t think I’m just changing myself because of college? Like when I did those makeovers with Maya and Chai? 

Riley: I mean, unless there’s a pretty blonde girl at school you’re trying to impress with a gender identity crisis… [ off Isadora’s chuckle ] But no, I definitely think this is different. This isn’t you changing how you dress or present yourself, it’s about how you identify and who you are on the inside. And whatever you discover about yourself or decide about your identity, I hope you know that you’ve always got my full support. 

Isadora: I do know. Thank you.

Riley beams, pleased with the outcome of the conversation. While she has Isadora’s attention, she decides to ask how things are going with her classmates.

Isadora: I mean, fine, I guess. I haven’t killed anyone yet. 

Riley: Does that mean new friends? Or just lack of enemies?

Isadora, dismissive: Nobody makes friends in the first week. It’s fine. 

Riley: … I’ve made friends.

Isadora: Really? Well, I suppose that makes sense. You’re Riley. [ a beat ] I’ll make friends eventually. It always takes me a little while to properly bond with people.

Riley nods, but the concern in her features is obvious.

Riley: If you want, I could introduce you to some of the people from my classes? They’re all lovely. I’m sure you’ll fit right in. [ a beat as Isadora quirks an eyebrow ] Well, maybe not “fit right in,” but… it’ll be better to have some friendly acquaintances on campus than nothing, right?

Isadora, defensive: I have you and Nigel. And Beatrix. She’s not in Tisch, but she’s… somewhere. 

Riley: Sure, but it never hurts to meet new people…

Isadora: I don’t need you to set me up on playdates, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of making friends on my own. I mean, I had lots of friends at Triple A before you arrived. 

Riley: You did?

Isadora scoffs, irritated at the implication that she can’t make friends on her own. Riley rushes to clarify that she didn’t mean to insult her or question her friend-making abilities, but Isadora is already standing up. A simple drum beat starts...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Have Friends” as performed by Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Original Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. those friends she definitely has)

If you’ve seen any of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, the somewhat ironic tone of the following sequence should be clear, but if not, feel free to get a taste of the original.

Isadora spins around to face Riley, transitioning into SMACKLE, her younger self from freshman year at Triple A. Her hair is longer and messier, the green hair dye nowhere to be seen. She’s wearing glasses and baggy black clothes that are far too big for her petite frame. 

Smackle: I have friends, I definitely have friends. No one can say that I do not have friends!

Smackle turns and marches away. The environment around her shifts, transporting her back to the time she came from…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls of Triple A are filled with unfamiliar students. Smackle walks through the school, dodging oncomers who don’t see her effortlessly. She has an unnatural grin on her face to match the song that sounds like it came right out of a purple dinosaur-themed children’s TV show.

Each of Smackle’s so-called friends appear in front of the lockers in the hallway and we cut between them as they introduce themselves one at a time.

Young Asher: I’m Asher!

Young Lucas, uncomfortable: Lucas…

Young Dylan, enthusiastic: Dylan and I’m super into Taylor Swift and Spongebob! 

Young Dave: Boy who’s tall!

Young Jade: The other techie girl.

Shawn: Teacher who lives in an RV behind the school. 

Smackle: I have friends, I definitely have friends!

With all the “friends” introduced, Smackle spins her arms and points off screen to the right. The camera pans in that direction, the scene changing again.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora is back to her present day self. She’s looking to her right, as if looking at the younger version of herself, but then turns to face the camera.

Isadora: Oh yeah! I have friends, I definitely have friends. Objectively, I can say that I have all the friends!

She walks out of the apartment…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

And into Chubbies. As she sings, she approaches the counter and sits down on a stool. 

Isadora: I have friends, I definitely have friends. Friends, friends, friendly friends. Time to meet my friends!

Once again, we cut between said friends as they introduce themselves.

Riley: I’m Riley!

The camera pans down to show that Riley is holding an open laptop, on which is a smiling DYLAN ORLANDO. He throws up a peace sign.

Dylan: Dylan!

The camera follows Lucas, who’s working behind the counter. He sighs and rolls his eyes, not saying anything as the music continues.

Moving on from Lucas, the other friends continue as normal. 

Farkle: Guy you won’t text back.

Nigel: Friend of friend from high school…?

Eric: Adoptive dad who was originally your counselor!

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Back in the school hallways of past, Isadora and Smackle walk together. All the friends they just listed are walking behind them, their levels of enthusiasm varied. Riley is still holding the laptop with Dylan on it; he now has a dog filter on his face. 

Isadora/Smackle: We have friends, we definitely have friends. No one can say that we do not have friends.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The group now walk along the streets of New York outside of Chubbies. Now Young Dylan is holding the laptop with present Dylan -- Young and present Lucas are standing about as far away from each other as possible while staying in the edges of frame.

Isadora/Smackle: We have friends, we definitely have friends. Friends, friends, friendly friends. We have all the friends. Cool!

With the final “cool!”, the group stops walking and all put their thumbs up. They all remain standing there for a beat, forcing themselves to smile. Lucas only manages a grimace, while others like Riley and Dylan look absolutely euphoric. 

Lucas: Can we go now? I have shit to do.

The facade drops, with everyone mumbling in agreement with Lucas, mentioning what they should be doing or where they’re supposed to be. Young Dylan closes the laptop on his older self. The group members walk away, ultimately leaving just Isadora and Smackle, whose grins are becoming hard to maintain.

Eventually, Smackle sighs and drops her arms to her side.

Smackle: I need to get back to class. 

Isadora: Oh, right. Of course. Bye, then…

Isadora watches the shorter, younger her walk off screen, then looks around. Even in her imagination, she ends up alone.

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

Maya is impatiently meandering away another evening, only this time it feels even more interminable since she’s simply waiting. Her big rush of auditions the last couple of days has ceased for now, and while she has a couple more up her sleeve this week, she frontloaded her schedule so she could be ready for callbacks when they arose.

Callbacks that, so far, she’s yet to hear about. So she’s looking for other ways to distract herself, currently reviewing her messages… which, to be honest, are kind of dry. With one best friend as her roommate and the other no longer speaking to her, suppose there’s just not much to be said. Aside from an always active thread with her mom and a couple of texts from Darby, things feel too quiet on the Mayan front.

But an older message does catch her eye. One Riley sent earlier this morning when Maya was still on an audition binge so she didn’t get the chance to properly process. It’s got Josh’s contact info and instructions on how best to reach him, with gentle (but enthusiastic) encouragement from Riley to reach out. Even if there’s no working partnership to be had, Josh is a good contact and invaluable resource in her eyes, so all of them should be trying to meet up with him.

And she’s probably right about that -- always good to have supposedly trustworthy contacts in Hollywood -- but Maya is more focused on the potential working partnership angle. Sure, she knows squat about Riley’s baby uncle, but he’s a connection, and if he’s not interested in her work then he at least knows multiple people in one of the biggest labels in the country and could pass her name along.

Taking advantage of every opportunity. Maya rallies herself and settles down to draft up a message to Josh, introducing herself and asking for his availability to meet up. She infuses it with her best charm and signature pops of personality, an irresistible combination…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

… that Josh doesn’t even read, immediately swiping away the notification without a second thought when it pops up on his phone. He’s far too immersed in his work for distractions, elbow deep in a killer mix of Iris’s single. He’s been at it for hours at the tail end of his work day and it’s clear he’ll be at it for hours more -- Phelps swings by to deliver him a coffee on their way out for the day, which he accepts gratefully.

Phelps: Try to actually go home tonight. Remember your coffee-stained shirt, Josh.

Josh: [ humming with a mouthful of coffee ] Yeah, yeah, mhm --

Phelps shakes their head. Lost cause. They peace out and Josh dives back into the music, energized with a certain all-consuming adrenaline and inspiration an artist of any medium would recognize as soon as they see it.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley, Isadora, and Lucas are sharing a somewhat late weeknight dinner, seated at the small dining table they have tucked behind the living area and between their two rooms. It’s not extravagant, but it’s cozy.

And right now, they’re conversing about a topic they all can chime in on -- Lucas’s return to Adams. Riley and Isadora are asking him a million questions, like how old places and teachers are faring, how Eric is as principal, whether the board seems to be having a tangible influence and of course, how the students are. Suffice to say, Lucas ending up as a de facto teacher at the school he never wanted to attend in the first place is something they all did not see coming and is, admittedly, incredibly funny in spite of the circumstances.

Although he doesn’t have much to offer given he’s only been in the role for a couple of days (and to be candid, isn’t the most observant guy there is), it’s clear Lucas enjoys actually being able to have something to talk about. He’s got a subtle smile on his face while Riley and Isadora avidly discuss his opinions on Adams and the freshman and everything in between, glad to be amusing them both and included in the conversation.

Isadora: I think that girl was right to question you, though. I would’ve. Like who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?

Lucas: I know. You basically still do that now. Unprompted.

Isadora: Eh.

Riley: It sounds like they like you, Lucas. That’s good. Not that that surprises me.

Lucas: Well, you’re biased, so…

Isadora: Eh…

Riley rolls her eyes, playfully kicking at both of them under the table. Seriously, though, Isadora agrees, and tells Lucas she’s sure he’s gonna be fine. If he’s got their respect already, that’s a good sign.

Isadora: Way better than my profs so far.

This, naturally, transitions the conversation squarely back to NYU. Riley tries to dig deeper as to why Isadora feels that way about her classes -- mainly Professor Wright and Professor Bennet -- the two of them spiraling into quick debate about it as effortlessly as they were discussing Adams.

Only now, Lucas isn’t smiling anymore. The change is subtle, but with just one shift in topic, it’s like he’s been locked out of the conversation. He simply can’t relate, because it’s not his world. Even college as a whole is something out of his realm now, so separate and apart from the disconnected and purposeless existence he leads.

So he tunes out, letting Riley and Isadora carry on without him. He picks at his food, but doesn’t eat any more.

Nigel, pre-lap: It’s definitely… new.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Nigel is on the phone with Yindra, the two of them catching up after the first couple days of classes for him. Yindra is dying to hear all about it, seeing as they’re her only window into another life beyond the one she chose. She still clearly has no interest in academia, but admittedly, the structure and purpose of college suddenly holds more appeal than it did at the end of high school.

Yindra: That doesn’t exactly sound like a glowing endorsement. Don’t tell me Tisch isn’t the bitch it was cracked up to be.

Nigel: No. No, no, it’s not that at all. It’s just… it’s different. New faces, new setting, you know? I gotta… it takes time to adjust to that. I’m still getting a feel for it.

Yindra: For sure, for sure.

Nigel: And you know, it’s like, none of us are battling anything near the world Jade’s climbed into. She showed me around the studio today and it’s just like… wow.

Yindra: Wow good or wow yikes?

Nigel: Honestly, no clue. It’s… a lot.

It all feels like a lot. The whirlwind of the industry through Jade’s eyes, the new pond at NYU. Even Zay’s cutthroat competition.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

We intercut with Los Angeles, where Yindra nods along from where she’s perched on her bed. She’s trying to practice some self-care by painting her toenails.

Yindra: Oh yeah, I got that vibe real quick. He’s canceled on me for a catch-up twice already because he’s all “I’ve gotta rehearse.” He’s not going Diva Zay again, is he? Because if he is, Nige, you need pull your badass out from last winter and smack him upside the head before it’s too late.

Nigel: No, thankfully, I don’t think so. At least, not to that degree -- he learned his lesson the first time.

Yindra: Damn hope so.

Nigel: He’s just spooked. And that’s how you know it’s real, if even Zay Babineaux is shaken up. We all are. [ a beat ] I mean, unless you’re Riley.

Yindra: That’s my girl.

Nigel: She introduced herself first in our musical theater class no sweat. And she already has like I guess four dozen friends.

Yindra: Sounds like Riley, yeah. And is that a problem?

Nigel: No. No, of course not. And she’s doing a lot to actually keep the group together and functional which is no easy feat. It’s… I just…

Nigel shakes his head, ending the thought before it can really crystallize. It may be slightly envy-inducing that Riley just has everything so effortlessly under control, but he’s not going to begrudge her for that. He’s lucky to have her in his corner, and he’s not going to forget that.

So he changes the subject, shifting gears to Yindra instead. How are the auditions going? Any developments? Yindra hesitates for a moment before assuring him same old, same old, just staying on that audition grind and keen for opportunities when they arise. She purposefully avoids mentioning all the hours she’s spending wasting away at the diner rather than on audition runs like Maya, or that her confidence and interest in doing so has simmered to dangerously low.

Instead, she exaggerates, easily rattling off the theoretical auditions she’s got going or small gigs she’s booking. All according to plan. It’s not like any of her New York friends would know any better, and the truth is, she doesn’t want them to know the truth. She doesn’t want them to know she’s basically on her last legs three months into this -- this was her choice, to defy norms and take the untraditional path, and now she needs to fake it ‘til she makes it (or breaks it).

Nigel doesn’t question it, a firm believer in Yindra’s capability. He has no reason to doubt her. There’s only a shade of guilt on her face as the conversation moves on, the distaste of lying to one of her best friends bitter in her mouth.

EXT. RUINS OF POMPEII - DAY

The gripping and ancient scenery of Pompeii transition us to a new morning thousands of miles away, the ruinous city now a monument of historical wreckage and a tourist must-see for those traveling through Italy.

The site of one of the most gruesome natural disasters in human history, it’s kind of right up Bridgette’s alley. She takes a photo of some of the destroyed columns and architecture, admiring her shot, before turning to look for her brother.

He’s not hard to find, and he is similarly very in his element. Charlie is crouched down in the dirt and gravel by some of the architecture, checking out the ancient graffiti scattered along the stone. Totally immersed, not paying any mind to whether other tourists are looking at him or judging him, living his best history-culture-nerd life. Much more like the brother Bridgette knows, not suavely confident on the streets of Naples or stiff in the crossing of hostel mates.

He looks over his shoulder at her, tossing her a giddy grin. Can you believe all this?

Bridgette saunters over to join him as he rises back to his feet.

Bridgette: What’s the hot goss from 79 A.D.? Which poor gal is getting called a slut on the ancient bathroom walls?

Charlie: My Italian isn’t that good, let alone my ancient Italian. But I’m sure we can find a placard to tell us more about it. [ as they start to walk ] Did you know that Pompeiians didn’t even know what volcanoes were back then?

Bridgette: Damn. No kidding.

Charlie: Seriously. They didn’t know Vesuvius was a volcano. They had no word for that. They just thought it was a really big mountain. Imagine how terrifying that would be, waking up one day and your entire world is quite literally going up in flames. And you don’t realize you live so close to an erupting geological structure, so you just think the gods are punishing you with fire and fury.

Bridgette: Grim. Though think you should have no trouble imagining that -- isn’t that how you lived like fifteen years of your life? Waiting for your Pompeii?

Charlie rolls his eyes, elbowing her and earning a smirk in response. He didn’t immediately withdraw into himself or start having a panic attack, though, so that’s progress!

In any case, Bridgette is ready to see where they keep the preserved corpses from the ash. And she’s on a special mission in that regard as well -- Daisy caught word via Rosie they were here, and she wants pics.

Charlie: For science?

Bridgette: Or because our baby sister is a maladapted insane person, but hey, aren’t we all? But probably mostly the science fix.

Charlie: I’m going to choose to believe it. But yeah, the science of it is fascinating. [ eagerly ] Oh, and just wait until you read about their teeth.

Whatever the hell that means -- clearly, Charlie has done his reading. Because of course he did. Yes, this is the Charlie Bridgette knows, and she quite prefers this version of him.

He leads the way and Bridgette follows after him, smiling to herself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

At a booth by the door, two older women have taken up residence opposite each other. They both have to be somewhere in retirement age, but spry for their ages, with a quick wit and rapid rapport with one another. This is MAISIE (70s) and EFFIE (70s).

By how easily they occupy the booth, it’s clear they’re Chubbies regulars. They’ve got laptops and papers with notes and diagrams spread out between them -- like the classical story arc, which any writer would recognize a mile away.

Effie: I’m only saying, I think it needs a name that really rolls off the tongue. Something snappy. Like… Oscar. How about Oscar?

Maisie: Ef, we already have a character named Oscar.

Effie: Oh yeah. Well, nevermind then.

Lucas emerges from the back room, having finished up the early morning shift before his day starts at Adams. Maisie and Effie brighten at the sight of him, greeting him cheerfully and waving him over to chat. Lucas obliges, familiar with the two of them after a year of working at the diner (and they usually tip well).

Nice as the initial hellos are, Lucas steps into an unwanted conversational trap pretty quickly. Both ladies comment on how they’re so surprised to see him -- suppose they must have just missed his shift if he’s no longer working the same hours, but they thought they wouldn’t be seeing him around anymore. Wasn’t he supposed to be in California?

Effie: Or was it Carolina? One of them? I always get the states mixed up.

Maisie: Effie, you’ve lived in the States for decades…

Effie: And?

Maisie: But yes, it was California. UC Davis, right?

Lucas: Um, yeah.

Effie: Your memory is unbelievable. What enhancers are you taking? Or just drugs?

Maisie: Oh, I’d never forget a fact about this fella right here. Best busboy there is, with the most intriguing of faces. I tell ya, there’s something deep behind those eyes. [ to Lucas ] I swear to you, someday, I will be writing a book about you.

It’s obviously not the first time Maisie has said so, and it’s meant as an unequivocal compliment, but it makes Lucas embarrassed all the same.

Maisie: So why no California? Decided to go to a New York school instead?

Effie: Or no school at all? That’s fine too. I didn’t go to uni and I turned out fine. It isn’t worth it if you don’t fancy it, right, Maise?

Maisie: Ask me again when I finish paying off my loans.

Effie: Still?

This sort of tangent-pattern is par for the course with these two. Lucas awkwardly cuts in to answer Maisie’s question, though he does so reluctantly.

Lucas: Um, no New York schools. California was the plan but I, uh… I had to defer.

Maisie: Oh, no.

Effie: Sorry to hear it, love.

Maisie: Well, hey, it’s just a deferment, right? So this time next year, right as rain.

Lucas: … maybe, yeah.

Effie: I don’t know, M. Remember our friend? The one with the middle part? Her daughter deferred and then you know what? Never ended up going. Just stayed glued to the basement couch for the next thirty years. Honestly don’t even know what’s become of her now. [ a beat ] But you’ll be fine, strapping, hard-working guy like you, Lucas.

Thank you, Effie… Lucas forces a smile and excuses himself, wishing both of them a good breakfast. They send him off happily, watching him head out of the diner. When Maisie speaks again, it is with wise certainty.

Maisie: True western hero in that one. Story of a lifetime, I’m telling ya.

No arguments here, Maisie! As the fast-paced, turbulent orchestral music picks up --

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

No days off in the transfer program, where they’re picking up hard work right where they left it for second class with Professor Gao. Rosario walks in front of the wall of mirrors as she explains to them that they’ll be doing across the floor exercises today for warm-up, so they should take position in two lines at one end of the room.

Rosario: As you may have noticed, our studio seems more spacious this morning. That’s because it is -- three of your peers have already dropped this class. This isn’t surprising: by the end of the first week, we usually find the number of those willing to stick out the rigorous expectations of this year shrinks considerably. You may find it wise to weigh that reality for yourself.

Zay needs no such time. He’s determined and ready to go, not backing down and certainly not contemplating dropping. Vanessa seems to be thinking the same, tying her hair back out of her face in a tight knot of curls.

Rosario counts them in, and the first set of students take off across the floor in a combination of turns, jumps, and steps. The combinations start simple and build in complexity and intensity with each return back across the room -- Rosario only instructs them with the steps seconds before they go, so they need to be quick on their feet and precise in their movements.

To the credit of those who stuck around, everyone seems to be in better shape this morning. The dancers are sharp and energetic, all together seeming more like the crop best suited to scrap for an advance to the big leagues. Zay and Vanessa are no longer the obvious standouts, and despite her tap-out last class, Gia is gliding across the floor with easy confidence and effortless accuracy.

As the steps get more complicated, Zay and Vanessa keep an eye on each other, having sized each other up as their most direct competition. And they just so happened to end up next to each other in the rows, so each time they cross the floor, it’s the two of them keeping up with one another. Or, more accurately, trying to best one another -- floor exercises aren’t a competitive practice, but they’re sure making it one, trying to outshine the other and prove more deftness with their speed, precision, and energy than the other. Sure, this makes for a strong showing…

Until it goes one step -- or misstep -- too far. It’s not clear which one of them fumbles first, but while they’re so distracted in keeping one eye on the other, they overshoot one of their turns and end up drifting into the other lane. The two of them bump into one another which quickly spirals out of control and becomes a collision... and then an all-out wipe out. Zay and Vanessa both lose their footing and tumble to the floor.

Talk about falling from dancer’s grace. It’s an embarrassing show, especially since they were the only two crossing the floor, and the others behind them hang back to avoid the crash. For a moment, the only thing in focus is their collapse, the rest of their peers reacting in turn.

Zay grimaces to himself, pushing himself upright… before he remembers he’s on display. He swiftly pulls himself together after he realizes all eyes are on him, rushing to get to his feet again before Vanessa does. Neither of them offer the other a helping hand.

Thankfully, they both make it back upright before Rosario finishes approaching them. They both stand in front of her again, under her unreadable stare, just like on Monday when they were on top of the world. Now, they’re the failures -- but she still assesses them just the same. No praise; no beratement. Just cold judgment, plain and simple, with no hint as to what verdicts she’s making in her head.

Rosario: Back of the line. [ to the others without looking at them ] I don’t see why we’ve stopped. Petrov, Melendez, go.

Somehow, the blatant dismissal is worse than outright criticism. Zay and Vanessa scurry to the end of the line with their heads down, a few students including Gia not trying very hard to hide their pleasure at their screw up. It’s an even playing field once again…

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

In that same frenetic pace, Isadora is hunkered down at her laptop. She’s frantically organizing her samples, trying to get a perfect platform and presentation together at the last second. Spite is fueling her full throttle. If Professor Bennet wants to throw her a curveball again, this time she’s going to be ready.

EXT. NYU - LUNCH SPOT - DAY

Only all that determination has made Isadora busy and a tad forgetful… leaving just Riley and Nigel for lunch that day. It’s quiet as the two of them eat, both of them aware of how laughably quickly their grand plans of a recurrent lunch seemed to have fallen apart and torn about whether to acknowledge it or not.

Nigel, reassuringly: She’s probably just caught up in something. Not like you don’t see her every day anyway.

True enough… but it’s not quite the same, is it? Still, there’s always Friday, and this weekend when Riley wants the group to come back together to recap the week. Nothing worth overthinking. Riley manages a smile, just barely masking her disappointment.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

After another long class, Zay is sweaty and exhausted as he packs up his things. Across the room, Gia is making more allies with some of their peers, practically glowing since she emerged as the star of this round. She glances over her shoulder towards him -- totally not as if she was just talking about him -- and throws him a cheeky little wink.

Besties, am I right? Zay frowns, which deepens into a scowl when Vanessa passes him and makes a point of shoulder-checking him on the way.

Swell start to the middle of the week.

INT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

The day is just getting started over on the west coast, though, so perhaps they’ll have better luck. It’ll at least be interesting -- a new element is being introduced to Farkle’s acting class, another professor and a group of about 10 - 15 upperclassmen joining them in the auditorium.

As the professors explain, this is a common tradition they do with a few of the introductory acting classes. They have some of the older directing and producing students -- sophomores and juniors, mainly -- come sit-in once a week on the acting class to help observe, practice giving direction, and collaborate. It not only facilitates connection between the disciplines and years, but also is always a quite effective teaching tool.

So more people to judge him, then. Farkle eyes the assembled students on the stage warily. One in particular catches his eye -- a boyishly good-looking and curly-haired sophomore, JORDAN NELSON (19). He’s surveying the freshman with an intrigued aloofness, exuding an aura of thoughtful seriousness that makes him intimidating even just from a glance.

For a split second, they meet eyes, Jordan quirking an eyebrow when he catches Farkle gaping at him. Farkle immediately looks away, glancing towards the ceiling, then slouching slightly in his chair. God, why is existing normally so hard?

EXT. USC - BING THEATRE - DAY

Still, the whole day is not a bust. As he’s heading out of class and cursing himself for not knowing how to function, Farkle’s peers catch up to him. They’re the same few who talked to him after class on Monday, seemingly just as authentically friendly as then -- when you’re freshman, everyone is friendly.

Peer 1: Yo, Farkle! [ with a laugh ] Man, I will never get sick of that name.

They let him know they’re all planning to go hit up this comedy show just off campus tomorrow night, as one of the cool older acting majors is performing in it and is supposed to be really good. Does he want to tag along with them?

Does he? Farkle does his best to play it cool, claiming he’ll have to check his schedule but that he should be free to join. The girl of the group gives Farkle her phone number so they can coordinate deets, but they’re planning to meet by Tommy Trojan and then walk over together.

Chill as he plays it, Farkle cannot hide the spring in his step when they leave and he continues his walk in the other direction. He got an invitation! To hang out! Maybe this college thing isn’t going to be a complete disaster after all.

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

He’s not the only one getting good news. Maya is elated when she gets an email from one of the auditions she went on, happily inviting her to a callback for an upcoming movie musical project.

Exactly as planned! Maya emails back an affirmation and request for date and time, then gets up and dances around her room in celebration.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Which is the same energy Josh has as he grooves around the studio to himself, practically vibrating. He just finished the mix on his client’s single after staying up all night to perfect it, so he’s jittery on caffeine and the rush of a brand new song. He finishes typing up an email to her to send the mix her way, humming pieces of it to himself.

The upbeat vibe is halted when another senior-level producer and their client enter the studio, expecting it to be empty and finding this junior 20-something dancing around on his own. Josh quickly straightens up and apologizes for staying late in the space, frantically gathering his things and bowing out.

The producer and client don’t seem all that fazed. It’s Hollywood -- they’ve probably seen far stranger things.

INT. NYU - CLASSROOM - DAY

Isadora arrives at Professor Schwartz’s classroom early, making sure that she’s there before any of the other students. Chelsea is sitting behind her desk, a pair of stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose as she frowns at her computer screen and taps aggressively on the keyboard.

Isadora gives a nervous knock on the open door as she takes one small step into the classroom. 

Isadora: Professor Schwartz?

Chelsea looks up in surprise. A bright smile spreads on her lips when she sees one of her students in the doorway. 

Chelsea: Come in, come in! And please, call me Chelsea. “Professor Schwartz” sounds so formal. [ as Isadora approaches ] What can I do for you? 

Isadora: It’s about the informational sheet that we have to hand in today. I, uh… well, I haven’t been able to finish it yet, so…

Chelsea: Oh, it doesn’t matter, honestly. Like I said, most of the questions are optional, so anything you haven’t managed to answer you don’t need to worry about. Trust me, I’ve been given plenty of half-filled out forms before.

In a quiet, unsure voice, Isadora stutters out that it isn’t any of those questions that she’s having trouble with. She avoids Chelsea’s eyes, looking down at her feet as she talks, but then risks a glance up. Chelsea listens attentively, an understanding expression on her face. 

Isadora: It’s, like, the worst timing that I’m suddenly having a bit of an identity crisis when there’s a deadline for the form, but I really am struggling to figure out what box to check, so I was just wondering if you’d be okay with me taking another day or so to do it? I promise I won’t be like this with any other assignments. I’m not usually like this. 

Chelsea: Trust me, this is the perfect timing for an identity crisis. College is the best place to question things like gender, or sexuality, or the morals and belief systems that you were raised with. I discovered that I’m pan during college, so I totally understand how you must be feeling. I’m not going to force you to come to a conclusion about who you are right now.

Isadora sighs in relief, grateful. Chelsea gives her a reassuring smile.

Chelsea: Take the week, see how you feel, and if you still don’t know, just write down “unsure,” and whenever you feel settled with something, let me know. Or if you decide you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. This is a safe space; I won’t judge.

Isadora: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. 

Chelsea: Of course! I’m just grateful that you feel able to be honest with me about what you’re experiencing. If you ever need to discuss it again, my door is always open.

Isadora thanks her again as other students start to filter into the room. She hurries over to sit in the same place she did previously. A weight has been lifted off her shoulders, and while she still has a gender identity to figure out, it doesn’t seem quite as oppressive without the time limit.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Lucas is on his way back from the teacher’s lounge, clearly feeling very awkward as he leaves it. Too recently it felt so off-limits, and now it’s one of his only designated areas to exist freely… he sighs to shake off the dissonance, heading back towards the auditorium.

He doesn’t get that far. He pauses before he rounds the corner when he hears a gaggle of underclassmen chatting about the changes in the school since Jack left -- particularly, in that moment, talking about him. While a couple of the girls remark how good-looking he is (to the disdain of some of the others), they’re all in agreement about one thing.

Student 1: It’s obvious he’s only here because he’s got nothing else to do. Like, wasn’t he like one of the worst students when he was here?

Student 2: But wasn’t he also class president?

Student 3: Barely. You know Principal Hunter just gave that to him because he was his favorite.

Student 2: Probably why he’s here now, too. Eric definitely took pity on him.

Student 4: You heard what Mister Matthews said after English. Friar has like, no drive. Total deadbeat. He’s convinced he’s gonna like brainwash the new techies into being demons.

Student 3: I still don’t like, get it, though. Wasn’t he supposed to be going to California?

Student 1: Well, evidently not, since he’s still here.

Student 2: Sad. If I got stuck here after graduating because I had nothing else going for me I honestly think I’d kill myself.

They laugh at the prospect, as if it’s oh so funny. So lucky, something they’ll never have to worry about… they’ve got plans and potential, after all.

Lucas’s expression betrays nothing outright, but given how stony it’s become, that says plenty. He doesn’t know what he’s even doing here -- he doesn’t know what he’s doing anywhere. It’s all such a joke. He’s a joke.

Oh so funny. Lucas turns on his heel and heads in the other direction, far away from the auditorium.

END OF PART 1.

#401 #episodes #s4 #oh HERE WE GO Y'ALLLLL

[pasdechat]

I love Amber dearly and I do have a wip that I wrote for her bday that I started two years ago but I am starting to think it may be cursed because every time I update the doc something not so great happens

power went out for two days

nearly ended up passing out

got really sick for two weeks

ended up in the hospital

THESE WERE FOUR SEPARATE WEEKS, SOME EVEN MONTHS APART. I know it's probably just a coincidence, but I am not exactly in a hurry to actually finish it lol

But I'll toss what I do have under the cut

Despite the lingering heat, the days begin to grow shorter and Amber is all too aware of the passing days.  She does her best to stay upbeat, keeping herself busy so that her thoughts don’t wander too much, but even that can only do so much as the day grows closer.

Amber manages to get through most of the week without incident.  She ignores the knowing looks from Hertha and Katheryne, picking up commissions and helping out on expeditions between her duties.  It leads to some interesting encounters, especially when Bennett is by her side, but it’s nothing that Amber hasn’t dealt with before.  If anything, she appreciates the experience, filling her journal with all the moments that manage to stick out afterwards.

But then the day arrives.  

Even after four years, it still stings a bit to wake up to absolute quiet.  Her grandfather used to make every birthday special.  From the moment she woke up until it was time for them to turn in for the night, he would have all sorts of plans for the day.  And Amber loved every single minute of it.  Now, the silence seems deafening.

With a sigh, Amber manages to get up and go about her morning routine before making her way towards the Knights of Favonius headquarters to meet with Jean.  At least the run should help to clear her mind.

Taking a deep breath and letting the early summer air fill her lungs, Amber makes her way through the town.  The familiar sounds of the city make for pleasant background noise and before Amber knows it, she’s already at her destination.  Jean has yet to arrive, so focuses on her breathing and starts her stretches.

“Sorry, I was running a tad late.”  Jean rushes up to Amber with a chagrined look.  She scratches at the back of her neck and waits for Amber to straighten up.  A soft expression soon covers her face and Jean gathers Amber into a warm hug.  “Happy birthday, Amber.”

Though the words do cause a small lump to form in her throat, Amber melts into the embrace, hugging Jean back tightly.  “Thank you.”

Jean’s hand lingers for a few moments when she steps back and she clears her throat.  “Lisa will be bringing your gift when she arrives but I also wanted to extend an invitation to brunch this weekend as well.”

Amber brightens at the thought.  Jean’s cooking is always a treat, far better than her own.  “I’d love that.”

“You can invite Eula as well, if you’d like.  I would do it myself, but I’m certain she would be more receptive if it comes from you.”  Jean shakes her head in amusement.

Amber winks.  “I’ll bring her along even if I have to drag her with me.”

That makes Jean laugh and the two of them fall into their usual habits, soon beginning their morning jog.  The sights of the city slowly coming awake help Amber to relax and soon the tightness in her chest starts to fade.  There’s still a lingering sense of sadness, but for now Amber can breathe just a little easier.

Once their run is done, Amber and Jean part ways and Amber makes her way into the changing room of the headquarters so that she can freshen up and slip into her usual outfit.  She glances in the mirror, focusing her thoughts and grabbing her glider.  Duty calls.

It feels good to get out and patrol.  Amber makes note of any troubling details and takes care of anything that she can handle on her own in that moment.  She takes a small break in the afternoon and makes her way back to the city.

“Amber!”  A loud shout catches her attention and Amber barely has time to steady herself before someone crashes right into her knees with a giggle.

Somehow managing to stay upright, Amber cannot help but laugh herself when she looks down at Klee.  She reaches down and ruffles the unruly hair before fixing Klee’s hat.  “And how are you today?”

“Klee is wonderful!”  Bouncing on the tips of her toes, Klee grins up at Amber before stepping back and rummaging around in her backpack.  “Happy birthday!”

“Oh?”  Amber carefully takes the glass jar that Klee holds out, unsure of what exactly she is going to find.  Her eyes go wide when she sees a flaming flower, still blooming within the jar. 

Another voice soon joins in, answering all of Amber’s questions.  “Worry not, Amber.  I assisted Klee in gathering her gift.”  Albedo approaches at a more leisurely pace, coming to stand beside Klee with a gentle smile.  He glances at the gift in Amber’s hands and adds, “The flower should be stable as long as the jar stays closed.”

Amber lets out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.  

“If you do not mind, I also have these for you.”  Albedo holds out a cloth wrapped package.  “They are simple sketches, but I believe you might enjoy them.”

“Thank you.”  Amber’s eyes grow wide and she can’t help but blush a bit at the unexpected attention.  

Albedo nods, his hand coming to rest on top of Klee’s hat.  “We must be on our way, but I do hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

A shy smile appears on Amber’s face.  “I hope you two do as well.”

Albedo reaches for Klee’s hand and Klee sends Amber one last grin before following after him.  

The sight makes Amber nostalgic as she watches them and she holds her gifts close.  Shaking off the invading thoughts, she gently sets the jar down and unwraps the thin cloth to find various sketches.  There’s a lamp grass flower, a flaming flower, and even a windwheel aster.  Next, Amber finds a sketch of herself, aiming her bow.  Her finger pauses on one last sketch, her breath catching.  It’s her and Lumine, sitting along the cliff edge.  Amber’s cheeks heat even as a different sort of warmth fills her.

Wrapping the sketches back up, Amber lets out a shaky breath.  A part of her wonders if Lumine might be thinking of her on this day but mostly she just hopes that her travels are going well.

Picking up the flower, Amber gathers her focus and continues on her way.  She can probably stop by her home to drop these off before Eula finds her.

The rest of what was planned: Gifts from Eula, Lisa, Kaeya, and Noelle. Had some stray thoughts about adding in a few others like Benny and Razor and Fischl, maybe Mona.

The main point was that at the end, Lumine arrives as the day is nearly over. Her hair is a mess, her clothes are not much better. She's out of breath but still manages to tackle Amber in a big hug and give her a present.

There's a joke about Eula swearing vengeance if she happened to be too late.

And then some cute moments where Amber finds a bit of peace and shares some happier memories about her time with her grandfather with Lumine who looks so happy to hear them that it truly lifts Amber's spirits about the whole day.

#genshin impact #amber #lumiamber #rambling thoughts #my writing

[drifting-wreckers]

Kaisarion, Chapter 5: We Will Break Away Together

Papa Emeritus IV x OFC: romance, religious fanaticism, drama, NSFW, MDNI, fate/destiny

She really should have planned an outfit in advance.

Rosalyn had tried on three different pants and two different shirts, standing before her floor length mirror and turning repeated circles in frustration. For fuck’s sake, why was it so hard to pick a simple dinner outfit? And why was it she could still hear his voice through the phone the day prior, teasing and warm and making her pine with expectation? Not like…not like she put out on the first date, no…that was certainly not in her plan, anyway. Well, maybe if he…

Rosalyn stared at her flaming cheeks in the mirror, hands slapping at her cheeks as, out loud, she exclaimed a “No! Get your shit together!” Mally picked up her head at the sound of her owner’s voice, sleepy eyes blinking their curiosity. She sighed again and pointed at her reflection. “It’s…it’s just dinner, Rosalyn…get it together. You’ve had dinner dates before. Never with a hot, intelligent Satanist…but…dinner is dinner, right?” Something in her facial expression was unconvincing. “Right.”

She jumped and whipped around at the sound of her ringtone. She chewed on her lip - the immediate concern if it was Copia calling to cancel last minute - until she spotted Jessica’s name flashing across the screen, instead. Exhaling a sigh, she answered the phone and left it on speaker as she went back to her closet.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

“Can you please come save me from this torture?” The whine on the other end of the line made her laugh. “It’s not funny! It’s Michael’s party and I thought it was going to be way better than this!”

Rosalyn laughed again as she withdrew a classic-appearing little black dress that made her lift her brows. Not bad. “Didn’t it just start?”

Another whine. “Well yeah, but no one’s here yet! So come save me, already! God knows you’re not doing anything, anyway…” She nibbled on her lip again, and the silence clearly lasted just long enough that the blonde realized something was up. “…wait…you’re not…are you?”

She hummed. “Well…you see…I sort of…sort of, kind of…have a date tonight?”

Pause.

Long pause. Rosalyn thought she heard movement before rushed words came through the speaker.

“HolyshitdidHotSatanManaskyououtandyousaidyes?”

Again, Rosalyn found herself smiling. “Will you stop calling him that…? But…yes…he kind of-sort of did and I kind of-sort of said yes so…we’re getting dinner tonight…”

Whether it was just Jessica or the shriek of a balloon losing air, Rosalyn couldn’t be too sure, but Jessica certainly seemed almost as thrilled as Rosalyn was.

“Oh my god, thank god…or the Devil? Lucifer? Is that how that works? I don’t know. But I’m so excited! I knew you two had the hots for each other!”

Rosalyn laughed lightly as she hung the dress from the door frame and slowly started to change. “I don’t really know either…but…I’m nervous,” she admitted hesitantly.  “There’s just…there’s something about him I can’t place…like I really know him even though I only just met him…it just…” she trailed off, having difficulty finding words. The blonde exhaled.

“…no shit, huh? He’s really making you feel all kinds of things that quickly…?”

Her stomach lurched nervously. “I know…that’s why I’m so nervous. I feel like I’m going in with rose-colored glasses which doesn’t even make any sense after Dean…but…” She shimmied the dress over her hips. “There’s just…there’s something about him. That’s the only way I can explain it.”

The two women stayed on the phone in silence for a moment as Rosalyn appraised herself in the mirror. The dress was simple, but elegant: that classic go-to little black, well-fitted dress that was just long enough to be appropriate but also flirty with a sweetheart neckline that flattered her breasts. She turned, pleased enough with how it cinched in at her waist, as well. She’d found the winner.

“Well…you know I’ve told you it’s time to move on from Dean, so…I’m excited for you. Just send me your location so I know how to find you if things get sketchy.”

She smiled. “Will do, appreciate you, Jessica.”

“…and I also promise not to judge you if you invite him back to your place cause, like…there is something insanely hot about him and I kinda wanna know if it tracks…”

Rosalyn laughed. “Thanks for that,” she deadpanned. “Now I gotta go and finish getting ready. Have fun at Mike’s.”

“Have more fun than me!”

She hung up the phone with another laugh before hustling to the bathroom to finish with her hair and makeup.

Copia stood against the car door, rather anxiously glancing at the time on his phone: 6:26. A whole two minutes had passed since he had arrived and last checked, and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander: would she be on time? Early? Late? Would she show up at all? Maybe she’d changed her mind and didn’t have the heart to tell him? But then on the other hand, what if she did show up? Would she regret it? Think he was too weird? If things went well, would she invite him to her home? Should he accept so early? He didn’t want her to think that he had only asked her to dinner to sleep with her. Satan below, he should’ve kicked Terzo out of his rooms while he was getting ready. The bastard had put all sorts of shit in his head…

Aether’s chuckle managed to pull him out of his thoughts as the large quintessence ghoul leaned against the door beside Copia casually, mask perched on top of his head so his face wasn’t obscured. “Boss, will you take a breath? You’re makin’ me nervous and I haven’t even met the chick, yet.” A casual side glance. “I’ve never actually seen you this nervous about a date…ever, I don’t think.”

Copia exhaled and resisted running a hand through his neatly swept back hair in favor of rubbing the back of his neck. “I…there’s something about her, Aether.”

Aether smirked, the glamor on his face flickering and giving only a hint of fangs and sharp teeth before vanishing. “Terzo did say she’s the hottest librarian he’s ever seen.”

Copia’s eyes rolled. “She’s probably the only librarian he’s ever seen,” he scoffed before shaking his head. “But it’s not that…I…I can’t explain it, Aether…” He exhaled a moment to try to gather his thoughts. “It’s…when I look at her, it’s like I was supposed to meet her…she’s…something else entirely.”

Aether watched his face with raised brows, surprised to find his gaze so distant and puzzled. “Well…You know the Dark One does like to meddle in these things sometimes…I’ll be interested to meet this mystery amazing librarian. Feel like I’m missin’ out.”

Copia chuckled and felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. When he looked up again, he caught a feminine silhouette in the street lamp in front of the library door as they had discussed. Even from the parking lot, he could tell the dress fit her beautifully and seamlessly, the black waves of her hair loose but clipped out of her face on one side. She had started to fiddle with her purse by the time he pushed off of the car to Aether’s low whistle.

“That her?” Copia nodded, his smile relieved and admittedly a bit awed. “…I mean…I definitely get Terzo’s point, now.” The ghoul chuckled as he pulled his mask down and patted Copia’s shoulder. “Go get her, Tiger. I’ll be here, your ever-faithful ghoul-servant.”

Copia snorted and rolled his eyes, though never actually took his gaze off of her. He felt his phone vibrate, but didn’t bother looking down at it. Instead, he simply straightened out his blazer and set off down the sidewalk to meet her.

Rosalyn was just about to start getting antsy that she would be stood up (entirely ridiculously given she had quite literally just sent him a text), when she heard her name in that accented voice that was becoming so familiar to her. She lifted her eyes from her purse to his voice and then quickly found that warm, mismatched gaze that made her stomach flip. He wore black trousers that she swore were tailored specifically to him, tight as the jeans he frequently wore to the library and filled out by strong thighs and an ass that made her mouth go dry. Tucked into said pants was a black button-down shirt under a well-made black blazer. And of course his gloves and paints that he never seemed to be without.

“Buonasera, Rosalyn…I am glad you could make it.” Understatement of the decade, he decided quickly. He extended a gloved hand and she promptly set hers within it, allowing him the chance to bring her knuckles to his lips for the first time since they had introduced themselves. His eyes held hers, not at all oblivious to the way her chest swelled with her caught breath and the rosy blush that crept up her neck. “Not that I am in any way surprised, but you look beautiful, cara mia.”

She refrained from biting her lip lest she get any red lipstick on her teeth and embarrass herself more than she was already worried she would. Her hand tingled where his lips had lingered and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. “You don’t look too bad, yourself…” she finally managed. “Though we’re a regular Gomez and Morticia Addams since we both decided to go with black,” she teased lightly.

He chuckled, gaze sweeping down her body once again and nearly making her squirm. “Black is classic,” he shrugged. “And besides, there are few other pop-culture couples I would rather be compared to, hm?” His eyes twinkled and she laughed, unable to help nodding her agreement.

“That’s entirely fair.”

He gestured down the sidewalk before he tucked her hand into his arm. “I have a car waiting for us. You are okay with Italian, I hope?”

She fell into step beside him, appreciative that he seemed to measure his steps carefully with the heels she wore. “Of course. And if we’re going somewhere in town that you approve of, I’m sure it will be beyond anything I’ve had before.”

He chuckled, warmth spreading down his neck and up to his ears. “Eh…it is possible, si. Italians…we are, eh, very discerning to who makes our food.”

She laughed, and was promptly surprised to find a white Mercedes awaiting them, and a large individual wearing an eerie silver mask stood at the door and opened it upon their arrival. Sensing her brief discomfort, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Rosalyn, this is Aether, our driver for the evening.”

Aether bowed, the open mouth area of the mask revealing his cheesy grin. “Miss Rosalyn, pleasure to finally meet you.”

Copia groaned as Rosalyn quirked a brow at him. “Finally?”

“Boss, here, has talked a lot about you.”

Copia was never more grateful for the paint that hid just how red he could feel his cheeks becoming, though inevitably it would flush down towards his chest if it got bad enough. He had hoped it would help that he caught the blush at her own cheeks…but it didn’t. He cleared his throat. “Eh, eheh…right. Remind me to dock your pay later, si?”

It was Aether’s turn to groan as Rosalyn laughed at the exchange. “Aw, c’mon, Boss! It’s a compliment! He only said good things, Miss Rosalyn, I swear.”

Copia waved a hand at him. “Yes, yes, yes…we can, eh…stop talking about this now.”

Rosalyn was still giggling through her blush as she thanked him for the help as she sat in the car. She was quite certain she heard some muttered Italian (curses, she would find out much later) directed at Aether before Copia rounded the back of the car and climbed into the back seat next to her. She couldn’t help herself.

“Only good things to say about the librarian, huh?”

His wide eyes whipped to her, mouth agape until he noticed the teasing glint in her eyes and a nervous chuckle left his lips. “Teasing me, already, eh?”

She flashed a cheeky grin. “Couldn’t help myself.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, at least, you know…you are very good about finding my research material, si?”

Aether was already in the car, glancing at the pair in his rearview mirror as he grinned and backed the car out. He was quite sure he was going to like her, already.

The ride to the restaurant was fairly brief, and Aether was quick to open her door in time for Copia to be present to offer a hand to help her step out. Ever the gentleman, he led her to the front door, where the maître d clapped and grinned brightly at the sight of him, not at all put off by his paints.

“Ah! Signor Emeritus! Benvenuto! Siamo felici di riaverti!”

Copia greeted him kindly, the two men exchanging brief conversation and shaking hands before the maître d grabbed two menus and stepped out from behind the stand.

“Signor, Signora,” he winked. “Please: follow me.”

Rosalyn fell into step beside Copia once again, a bit surprised as they wandered through the busy restaurant, bypassing table after table. She side-eyed him teasingly.

“You come here often, then, Mr. Emeritus?”

He glanced down at her with a quirk of his lips. “Eh, I haven’t been in some time actually. But I may have made some friends on my prior visits, si.”

When the smiley host opened a door at the back of the restaurant and stepped aside to hold it as they passed, she shook her head. “Awfully modest when we just got led into a private room.”

He shrugged. “I have strings to pull sometimes.”

They settled at a quaint, intimate table lit by a pair of candles in the center. When they were left alone with glasses of water and their menus that they each started to peruse, the conversation just sort of…started. She didn’t remember who spoke first or what was asked, but they just seemed to flow effortlessly and without hesitation from one topic to the next. He’d asked about her education, research she had done in the past and took genuine interest in what she said and even contributed. She was finding him just as quirky and endearing as he was intelligent, a dangerous combination, indeed.

Rosalyn twirled the stem of her wine glass slowly with her thumb and index finger as she laughed, eyes casting to the rich, red liquid as it gently jostled. “Can…can I ask an ignorant question?” Those blue eyes lifted back to his, and he was certain she could have asked him any obscure question and he’d have found an answer even if he didn’t know it.

“You can try to be ignorant all you want, tesoro, but I suspect you will have a hard time.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Challenge accepted, then.” She paused a moment to find her words, still wanting to choose them carefully lest she offend him and ruin what was turning out to be an exemplary night. “…um, the paint?” His head tilted. “I guess…what exactly does the paint mean in your church? I’ve had a number of the church members in and out of the library, and you and your brother are the only ones I’ve ever seen wearing the full face paint. A few with the black eye paint, but never full face.” His chin tilted down as he smiled softly and lifted his own glass to take a steadying sip for courage to answer the question. He suspected it would come at some point, but hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. “Is it something to do with your ranking in the church?”

He slowly and purposefully lowered his glass back to the table as he considered his answer. She had given him an out for a simple answer: hierarchy and leave it at that. He didn’t have to explain the hierarchy, didn’t have to try to explain his exact standing, and save that little tidbit for later…but when he lifted his gaze to meet her curious, shining eyes…he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Ah…si…it does have to do with the hierarchy, yes…” He trailed off and she propped her chin on her hand, ever the curious academic. He cleared his throat. “We, ah…earn the paint when we ascend from cardinal to…to Papa. And then should wear it as a point of pride.”

She processed the information, turned the words over in her mind for a moment before her head tilted. “So from cardinal to Papa,” she reiterated out loud and he nodded. “So…that’s the equivalent of…? The Pope?”

He felt those nerves settle into his stomach again. “Eh…essentially, yes. My two oldest brothers are Papa Emeritus the first and second…Terzo, the third…I…” Satanas, her eyes held him hostage. “…I am the current acting Papa…Papa Emeritus the fourth.”

And so he waited.

Rosalyn considered his words carefully, and her eyebrows gradually lifted as she realized their full meaning. She took him in again: the sharp lines of the white and black paint encompassing those bewitching heterochromatic eyes, that strong jaw and chin, the way he shifted nervously in his seat, eyes darting from hers, to the table and back. Clearly he was worried what she would think of the matter.

She should have probably found it more disturbing that it didn’t intimidate her at all.

“So what you’re telling me…” He held his breath. “…is I’m, essentially, on a date with the acting head of the Satanic Church?” He couldn’t quite find the words so just nodded, instead. “I take it the whole celibacy thing is just a Catholic thing?” He exhaled slowly, relieved to catch an impish gleam in her eye at the question.

“…si…in fact, our teachings are quite the opposite.” A quirked brow. “Lust is a cardinal sin, after all…such sins are encouraged in His name.”

Their eyes met over the candle centerpiece and what little drizzle remained on the plate now devoid of cannolis, both a bit breathless as the words settled around them. “Well…that’s good to know.” Her words were simple, to the point, and yet the weight of them was almost suffocating even as they quirked a smile at one another.

“Sei pronto per il conto, Signor Emeritus?”

The pair both flinched as the waiter arrived, apologizing as he realized he had startled them both. Rosalyn laughed as Copia answered the question in the affirmative, their bill set on the table before him. Rosalyn frowned and pulled her purse into her lap.

“Copia, here, at least let me-!”

He didn’t even give her a chance, credit card out and handed to the waiter before she could pull her wallet out. “Assolutamente no. This is my pleasure, Rosalyn.”

It’s about to be.

The thought crossed her mind in a hurry and nearly made her blush, though she managed to cover it with a pout. “The next one is on me, then! And I won’t take no for an answer!”

He met her gaze, the meaning of her words not lost on him as he grinned. “Fine…next time.”

Once the bill was taken care of, they traipsed back to the car arm-in-arm, and their quiet, easy conversation continued. Of the numerous things Rosalyn had been relieved to discover about him that evening, the things that invariably made him a “nerd” to others were the most substantial to her. She had learned that even though he was the head of the Satanic Church, himself and all the previous Papas also taught classes at the Ministry - including things like history and Latin - which was how he had come to her library in the first place. Those innate academic characteristics only seemed to feed their chemistry more.

They were in an animated conversation about his research about Hypatia by the time Aether opened the door and pointedly made eye contact with Copia with an obvious question in his mischievous eyes. Copia only smiled softly as the door closed and he walked around to the other side, which was enough of a message to Aether who grinned broadly. Things were clearly going well.

Once they had settled into the car, Copia fidgeted a bit with what to do with his hands. His itch and instinct was to continue to touch her at least in some way, though he felt it was still a bit early to do so in the intimacy of the car. He cleared his throat slightly. “Ah, tesoro, if you would like, give Aether your address and we will drop you off, si?”

A few things very quickly went through Rosalyn’s mind: she wasn’t ready for the night to end, she was enjoying their conversation too much, and if they dropped her off outside her home, she was worried the night would end far-too abruptly. With the pressure to answer without waiting an awkward amount of time, she made a reflex decision that she hoped she wouldn’t regret. It was juvenile, but in the moment seemed to be the most logical course of action, and very much in-line with the teenaged giddiness the night had given her.

“Uh, there’s actually not a great spot to park or anything outside my house, so it’s just easier to drop me off at the library and I can walk from there.”

She was taking a bit of a chance, but something told her he would react as she expected he would.

Indeed, the incredulously horrified look he turned to her was immediately reassuring. “Che cosa? Assolutamente no! What kind of person would I be if I let you walk home alone this late? I’ll walk you.”

She tried not to smile. “Copia, it’s not like I haven’t made the walk before…you really don’t have to-…”

He lifted a hand to stop her. “No arguments, cara mia. Aether, let’s go.”

At that, she smiled to herself and settled back into her seat. Her eyes lifted and unintentionally caught Aether’s in the rearview mirror. The look in his eyes was knowing and amused, and she felt her cheeks warm. Caught already, huh?

The conversation lulled on the short drive back to the library parking lot. She carefully stepped out of the car, thanking Aether again for opening the door and smiling up at him.

“Been a pleasure, Aether.”

His grin was broad and cheeky. “Entirely my pleasure, Miss Rosalyn. I’ll be seeing you around,” he winked. She laughed lightly and nodded.

“Looking forward to it.”

Copia rounded the car and extended his hand again. “Cara mia? Shall we?”

She nodded and placed her hand in his as they settled into an easy pace side by side on the sidewalk. After a moment of comfortable silence, she turned her face towards him slightly.

“Is it okay if I ask more ignorant questions about the church?”

He chuckled quietly, gaze shifting to hers and finding those blue eyes alight with the inevitable inquisitiveness that clearly made her love her job and contributed to how endearing she was. “Of course…we encourage questioning everything and anything.”

Her head tilted. “What sorts of other things do you teach and believe in?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Things like empathy and compassion, justice, freedom to think and do as one pleases…The Olde One does not believe in judging others for who or what they love to do…essentially, He encourages us to not be…eh…assholes.” Admittedly, he wasn’t about to discuss the ghouls and various rituals; he would cross that bridge if and when they got there.

She laughed, somewhat unintentionally drifting closer to him in the chill of the night air. “Sounds… reasonable.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You sound surprised, cara mia.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised to know that all I hear are negative things – and extremely dramatic things, I might add – about the church from the usual Christian zealots…very tolerant individuals, you know,” she teased sarcastically.

“Ah, yes…that is entirely not a surprise,” he nodded thoughtfully.

She observed his expression for a moment, deciding it was best to divert the subject a bit.

“So…the higher clergy-types wouldn’t have any issues with you, say…seeing someone outside the church even though you’re the head of it?”

He felt his cheeks warm, bashful smile taking over his expression. “Eh…freedom of choice and all that.” He paused. “…does that imply…it doesn’t bother you to see the Papa of the Satanic Church?”

Rosalyn’s grin broadened and she put on a show of considering his question. “Hmm…are you going to try to convert me?” The question was clearly playful.

“Not unless you want me to, tesoro.”

Something about his tone stirred heat low in her abdomen and she giggled to suppress it. Her feet slowed and he followed as her eyes shifted to the front door of her house. “Oh…” Breathy and disappointed. “…this is me.”

Copia’s gaze shifted from her to the house, startled that they had already arrived. Her home was quaint, settled amongst a row of other homes along the street with various plants well-tended around the stoop and front door. There were a few cars parked around the street, however he couldn’t help but notice the notably empty area in front of her own home. He was confused for a moment, until the realization dawned on him. Warmth immediately blossomed in his chest and his confidence soared.

“Ah, tesoro?”

“Hm?”

“May I, ah…ask you something?”

She was confused by the teasing quality of his tone as their eyes met, his smirk playful as he stood in front of her. “Uh, sure?”

He very pointedly looked around them at the quiet street. “It seems there is plenty of open space here for parking.”

Her brow furrowed, mouth opened to ask a question until the realization hit her and her cheeks exploded in deep color. She had absolutely not thought this through. “Um…well…uh…I mean…that wasn’t a question…” she sputtered in an attempt to spare some of the embarrassment. Her face burned more as his grin only broadened. She opened her mouth a few times as though to speak before finally groaning and dropping her chin. “Okay, okay, it was stupid and a little immature…but I wasn’t really ready for the night to end so figured you would walk me home if-!”

A gloved finger tucked under her chin and tilted her head back and his lips silenced her.

Fucking hell, was that what kissing was supposed to feel like?

Her heart slammed into her rib cage at a sprint, stomach flipped and hands fell to his chest as his own hand moved from her chin to her cheek, the leather soft against her skin. His lips were warm, her body on fire as his other arm pulled around her waist and drew her closer. Some little whisper of reason told her to pull away while she still had some control; she had told herself she wasn’t going to invite him in, but with the way heat shimmered through her core and the way every point of contact scorched her, she was definitely going to lose that battle…

…and then his tongue just brushed the seam of her lips and any sense of decency and reason she was clinging to vanished. She was totally going to invite him inside.

Copia truly hadn’t meant to do it. He had tried so hard to remind himself that he wanted to make sure she knew this wasn’t just about sex and he would just give her a chaste kiss goodnight. But then the way she melted against him, the way her hands gripped his shirt, and the way she molded into him…he didn’t even realize his tongue had touched her lips until she whimpered and parted them to allow her tongue to entangle with his. He drew in a sharp breath and pulled her more tightly against him, warmed as her arms draped around his neck.

Rosalyn was overwhelmed by sensation and a burning need. She forced herself to break contact, forehead pressed to his as they panted into the space between them. Glassy eyes met his and he took in her mussed hair, black lipstick now transferred and smudged on her lips and Satan help him, he wanted to see how much more disheveled he could make her…

She swallowed, flustered and needy. “C-Copia…um…would…would you…?”

“…Rosalyn?”

They flinched at the third voice that cut through the heavy air between them. Copia straightened, grip loosening as her own hands moved from his neck and back to his chest. Her flushed face and bruised lips turned at the familiar voice that doused the brewing heat into nothing. Her eyes met startled green that flit between hers and Copia’s faces as a small dog on a leash sniffed around her plants. She could’ve screamed her frustration.

“…Dean…? What the hell?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled his feet as Copia’s gaze pinned him in place, the white eye making him shift even more. The couple straightened themselves out, and Rosalyn made a point to keep his hand in hers, a small gesture that kept the smile on his face.

“I was just…just walking the dog…” The two sets of eyes now staring him down made him regret reflexively calling her name and he rambled on. “Avery hasn’t been able to walk much since she’s been getting so sick with the pregnancy and all so I have to sometimes take…take the dog…out…”

Any desire she felt was squashed and her lips pursed. “Pregnancy?”

Dean realized his slip up and cleared his throat. “Oh, uh…yeah…we’re…we’re um…having a boy.”

Her lips pursed before she smirked slightly and shook her head. “Well, uh, congrats. This was nice and awkward.” Both men looked at her, and then at each other. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. There was an obvious question in Dean’s gaze, and she felt indignation flare up in her chest. Not like she owed him any god damn explanation. Copia warmly squeezed her hand back and she couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m finishing up a date that was very, very pleasant until you got here. So…nice seeing you.”

Despite the discomfort Copia had felt at the interaction, he hadn’t wanted to intrude, and it seemed she was just as content with his gesture of solidarity. She turned to face him as if completely disregarding this Dean person who hesitated a moment longer before finally shuffling on his walk. Rosalyn dropped her forehead to his chest and groaned; he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Copia, that was…ugh…”

His brows quirked at the language, his first time hearing her curse in such a way. Something about it made him smile more as his arms lifted around her waist. “Va tutto bene, tesoro,” he murmured as his lips kissed the top of her head. “It’s fine…shit happens.” Honestly, it was for the best that they had been interrupted. He had the sneaking suspicion that she had been about to invite him in, and Satan knew he didn’t have the self-control to have said anything but yes…

Her head tilted up and he smiled at the pout on her lips. “It’s not fine…I meant what I said: this was…” she trailed off a moment, that fetching blush on her cheeks once again. “…the best date I’ve been on in a very long time.”

He chuckled as his thumb gingerly lifted to wipe at the smudged black paint on her lips. “Same here, cara…we’ll fix the end part next time, hm?”

The pout morphed into a grin and she nodded agreement. “Next time, then.”

He nodded and pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before finally bidding her goodnight.

~

AO3 Link

#my fanfiction #my writing #the band ghost #papa emeritus IV x ofc #Papa Emeritus IV #the band ghost fanfiction

[awzominator]

Gotta give y’all some WonderGem for this mermay

#mermay #mermay 2021 #cassandra sandsmark #wonder girl #amethyst #amy winston #wondergem #and no I can’t draw wings but I gave Cassie some anyway #also should have planned her outfit better but I’m rushing all of these #I have no time management or energy to put effort in anything #Awzominator art

[proserpina-magnus]

Yay your requests are open! 😄 Could you pleeeease write a Dom poly!marauders (no Peter) x sub!reader, where it’s a new-ish relationship between the 4 and the reader breaks her first rule, leading to her first punishment and they can all see she’s nervous so they are soft!doms during (you can decide the rule she breaks and the punishment🙊) and the aftercare they give her 🥺

Yes absolutely, it’s kinda rough and I didn’t realize how lengthy it was! This is actually not that good and the aftercare could be better but I hope you like it!

First Punishment’s (R.L, J.P, S.B)

Reader: fem (she/her)

Word count: 2.6

Warning: swearing, rule breaking, spanking, bratty reader (sorta), d/s (sorta heavy?) Remus is the main dom, safe words are definitely in place, lots of aftercare and praises, reader becomes a cry baby super fast, soft doms, Sirius actually doesn’t show up that much and that sucks :(

p.s: my bad spelling also plays a role in this!

There were only a few solid rules the Marauders had set for you, no back talk, no touching yourself sexually without permission, and always thank them when they give you something. They had a few smaller rules specifically for themselves, such a James saying you can’t cuss while Sirius allows it. Remus has to approve your outfit before going out to hogsmeade. Sirius, surprisingly, doesn’t have many rules other than the main ones.

It must have been a bad day or you just felt bratty, because you had been tempting their rules all day. You had gone out to hogsmeade with your dorm mates, not checking with Remus about your outfit. When you returned, a bag full of honey duke treats, you got stopped by Remus in the hallway. He shoo’d your dormmates away, an eyebrow raised with his hands crossed over his chest.

You shrunk slightly, fiddling with the edge of your rather small skirt that Sirius had gifted to you just days ago.

“Bun, did you forget to do something?” He asked and you nodded. Yet you and Remus both knew you had done it on purpose.

“What did you forget?”

“To check with you,” you mumbled, distracting yourself with flattening the fabric of James jumper you had stolen.

“To check with me about what?”

“M’outfit,” you whispered and you caught Remus's stern look and spoke up. “M’outfit sir,”

“mmh,” was all he said, giving you an opportunity to apologize to him properly. You dug through your bag, taking out a chocolate bar you had gotten him.

“But I went to get you guys sweets!” You excused yourself, pushing the chocolate in Remus's hand. Remus shook his head, taking the chocolate. “Alright, I’ll let you off this time. But no matter what your excuse is, it doesn't mean you can go around flaunting your ass to Hogsmeade, understand?”

“I’m not flaunting my ass!” You exhaled quickly, pushing down your skirt as you began to get offended. Remus raised his eyebrow, “I’m sorry?” And you grew quiet. Real quiet.

“Hey lovely,” you heard James call from behind you, you had turned around to see him race down the hall and swing an arm around your waist, a big smile on his face.

“What’s the issue?” James got the tension and Remus motioned for you to explain yourself.

“Went to hogsmeade without checking my outfit with Remus,” you whispered rudely, James raised an eyebrow as he didn’t quite catch it.

“Hm? Speak up poppet,” he said, and you sighed and said it again louder this time.

“Oh let her off this one time Remus, she must have forgotten,” James defended you, rubbing your back so you knew he was on your side.

“I was,” Remus started, irking slightly as he recalled how you talked back. “But instead she told me off for my offer,”

James grew confused, looking down at you. “Love, that’s not true is it?” He asked, pinching your cheek and you pushed his hand away. You thought he was on your side.

“Remus said I was flaunting my ass! I wasn’t! And even if I was, what's the problem with that? I’ll flaunt my ass whenever I want!” You huffed, another small rule broke at your words. Remus rolled his tongue over his teeth, James folding his arms over his chest. Oh dear lord, you were in for it now if you kept going.

“This isn’t far, it’s 2 against one,” you pointed out as you now realized James wasn’t on your side. You copied them, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It wouldn’t have been 2 against one if you didn’t break a rule,” Remus reminded you, you grew frustrated.

“Well I don’t like your stupid rules,” you stated, now you began to get worried. Why did you keep talking, it wasn’t too late for you to apologize and say you were sorry.

“Up to our dorm,” James said roughly and grasped your elbow, you shook him off and stepped back. “No I don’t wanna,” you said and they both let out a laugh.

“Come on, we’re not asking again,” Remus said, you felt your nerves jitter. You’ve never been punished before and the worry began to build quickly.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you took another step back. Your back hit a person and you cursed yourself. Without turning around, you knew it was Sirius. But hopefully, you prayed he was on your side. Sirius must have read your thoughts, because he quickly said a “they’re right bun, you know if you break a rule you get punished,”

You frowned, huffing out as you realized there wasn’t a chance to escape now. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling away from Sirius as you began to walk down the hall to the portrait. They followed behind, Remus shaking his head.

You stopped at the portrait, arms still crossed over your chest as they said the password and led you upstairs to their dorm. With the thud of the door being closed, you felt the need for a meltdown.

They hadn't discussed what kind of punishment went with each rule, they hadn’t thought they wouldn't need to punish their good girl. James had insisted you would never break a rule, but apparently he was wrong.

They picked up that you were worried, but they couldn’t just let it slide, you’d think that breaking rules was okay and that you could get away with it.

You walked over and set your bag down on James' dresser, sitting down on his bed, hands still folded over your chest.

“Okay, cool off,” James said and walked over to you. “I want you to know we aren’t punishing you while mad, that’s not how this is going to work,” he stated, and Remus nodded.

“We honestly hadn’t planned out a punishment, we thought you would be good,” Sirius said, that hurt. “I am good!” You replied, upset at the fact they didn’t think you were good.

“Hey, you’re not on thin ice anymore missy, I’d watch what you say if I were you,” Remus snapped and you went quiet with a frown.

“We know you’re a good girl,” James soothed over, giving a glare to Sirius. “That’s not what he meant,”

You began to open your mouth for a snappy comment, maybe even going as far as to call James dumb, but you closed your mouth and stayed silent. “Okay,” you nodded, “I understand,”

“You know why we have to punish you?” Sirius asked, and you nodded. “Say it, we want to know that you know what you did was wrong,”

“I broke a rule, well two rules,”

“Two rules?” Sirius questioned, he had missed the start of the backlash. “She went out to Hogsmeade without my permission for her outfit,” Remus cleared up.

“technically she actually broke three,” James said, your eyes opened as you looked over at him. How could he? You felt the need to cry, they seemed really upset. Who knew you would hate them being upset at you so much?

“Three?” You questioned in pure confusion.

“You cussed, you know I don’t like that,” James explained with a hand on your thigh, you nodded in defeat. “It’s alright, bun,” he kissed your cheek.

“James, don’t encourage that she can break your rules,” Remus advised and your shoulder slumped at the fact this wasn’t a time for you to get praises.

“Alright, let’s discuss punishments, she’s scared I don’t like that,” Sirius said and sat opposite of you, Remus took a seat on the chair by James dresser.

“You want us to list some?” James asked, “we won’t do anything without your permission,” he explained and rubbed your knee, you sighed but was a bit confused.

“You can use your safe word any time you feel unsafe, even during punishments. We never want you to be scared of us, okay?” Remus said, rubbing your cheek and you nodded. You leaned your face in his palm, you wanted to soak up all the affection before your punishment.

“We need clarification, you understand bun,” Sirius said, you opened your eyes when Remus pulled his hand away. “I understand, I can use my safe word whenever I need to, even during punishments,” you nodded along, slowly the nerves began to settle.

“Good girl,” James praised, “don’t think we’re going to praise you during punishments either, but since it’s your first time we’ll be more understanding,” Remus explained and you nodded.

“Alright, what about spanking? Not letting her cum for a certain amount of time? Degrading?” Sirius rushed out the ones off the type of his head, your stomach flipped at the word spanking.

They discussed punishments in front of you for a few minutes, some making you worry and others you nodded along like you’d enjoy it. You didn’t know why, but hearing them talk like you weren’t even there was making you feel dizzy.

“What about a simple time out? I don’t want to go all out for her first punishment, I don’t want her to be scared,” James said, rubbing your back gently.

“Let’s make her pick, that way she has control over the first punishment,” Remus said, looking away from Sirius as he kept his eyes on you. “We’ll let you pick this time, but don’t think you’ll get to pick the next time you break a rule,” he explained and you nodded.

“No punishment,” you choose and Sirius laughed, kissing your forehead. “That’s not how it works bunny,” he began and you sighed. You thought for another minute, spanking couldn’t be bad could it?

“I guess spanking,” you nodded, Remus nodded but James wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, I still think we should give her a time out, maybe even not let her speak for a day or so,” James said, Sirius didn’t agree.

“She wants to be spanked, we’ll spank ‘er,” Sirius said, patting your thigh.

“The whole point of a punishment is that we don’t do what she wants, it’s not a punishment if she likes it,” James explained, you began to worry again.

“I don’t wanna do something scary,” you say, you thought about the discussion of the things you definitely didn’t want to do at the first of your relationship. Were they going to do something that was past your boundary? At the thought alone, you began to sob.

“James look what you did, you’re scaring her,” Sirius rolled his eyes as he took you in his arms, shushing you gently as he rubbed your back.

“M’don’t wanna do things past my boundary,” you sobbed, they all softened at the miscommunication. “Oh no poppet, we would never go past your boundary, that’s not what a punishment is,” James sighed, you sniffled and pulled back, wiping your eyes. “No?”

“Of course not,” Remus clarified, “like we said, safe words can be used during any moment you feel unsafe, do you need to use it now? We can postpone the punishment until you’re ready,”

You shook your head, “no, the faster the punishment is over the faster I can be your good girl again,” you whispered.

“That’s right, just focus on that huh? We’ll be so proud of you for taking the punishment like a good girl,” Sirius said, looking over at James and Remus. They all agreed and you wiped your cheeks.

“Okay but how many spanks? And how hard?” You asked, they all thought for a moment, james and Sirius looking over at Remus for the final answer.

“20 or so? That seems fair,” Remus states and the latter agree, you felt confident with being able to handle 20. “But how hard?” You asked, James stood you up and you felt a hard smack against your ass. You yelped, hand going over to rub the now red skin.

“Does that count as one?” You question, Remus was about to say no but Sirius caught him off. “Might as well,” he states, “who’s giving the punishment? Cant be me cause I’ll enjoy it too much,”

“I want James,” you say, but James shakes his head. “You upset Remus' earlier love, I’ll give you 10 and Remus will give you the other,” he says, looking over at Remus to see if he agrees. The taller boy nodded.

After a few minutes of questioning, you had situated yourself on James lap. Sirius laid on his bed, clear view of your now exposed ass (James had previously risen your skirt and pushed down your panties). You took a deep breath, Remus explaining once again that you could use your safe word whenever you needed.

With the first official smack, you sucked in a breath. There was a certain excitement about it, even the boys felt their heart race as James abused your soft flesh with a couple more smacks. Your skin red on both cheeks, James even went as far as to hitting the low of your thigh.

After the tenth smack, you had begun to let tears slip past your waterline. Sniffling as you sat up and moved to sit in Remus' lap. Once sprawled out, you whispered a small choked out “okay” for Remus to continue where James left off.

Remus’s spanks we’re harder than James, by the fourth you had become a whimpering mess. Your apologies for misbehaving leaked out every smack, it was like dominos. Your skin felt raw to the touch, the spanks stung.

Remus applied the last smack quickly, Sirius sitting up as James fell to his knee beside the bed, stroking your hair. “You did such a good job, poppet, made us so proud,” James whispered as Sirius passed Remus some cream.

Your face deep in the sheets, sobs admitting loudly as you feel the cool cream get rubbed into your hot skin. Sirius rubbed your leg, Remus finished and flipped your skirt down to hide your reddened ass.

“Look at that, you took your first punishment so good,” Sirius said, Remus helped you sit up as you wrapped your arms around his collar.

“M’so so sorry, never break a rule again,” you sobbed, vowing to never receive another punishment. Even though they knew a punishment was necessary, they felt their hearts stop at the sound of your cry.

“Oh baby, shh. Let’s get you some candy from your bag,” Sirius says, grabbing the honey duke's bag as he rummages through it. Remus guides you away from his neck, sitting you down in his lap. You hissed, the contact not feeling good on your abused behind.

James had opened a water bottle for you, pushing in a straw and holding it for you to drink. You nodded your thanks and shakily took it, sipping it graciously. Your eyes were puffy and red, James wiped your face with a tissue, cleaning your mascara from your cheeks.

Sirius had opened a pack of peppermint patties for you, you chewed on it gently and leaned against Remus’s back. After they got you calmed down, the praises had been never ending.

“Look at you, took your first punishment so well,”

“Good girl, best sub we will ever have, hm?”

“Took the spanks so well didn’t she, prongs?”

“She’s such a good girl, don’t you think moony?”

You felt dizzy at their compliments, nodding as they all came tumbling in at once. Sirius had begun brushing your hair, James kissing your cheeks to make you laugh.

“So proud of you poppet,” James whispered in your ear, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he picked you up.

“Let’s go run you a bath and soothe your skin hm? Then will bring you dinner and you can rest with us tonight,” James said, stepping into the bathroom.

“Okay, I’d like that,” you nod tiredly, resting your head on James' chest. Maybe being bratty wasn’t so bad.

—

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[rommahh]

{this show was off the walls. He looked so good. And the energy was just??}

You stood uncomfortably at your flights gate with Harry. After being with Harry for five shows, your anxiety had reached a peak leaving you to be faced with one of your worst panic attacks before the St. Louis show. Harry didn’t want you to feel so much mental pressure so he suggested that you go home, he even bought you a ticket without consulting with you.

Your shoulders were tense as you stood rigid next to Harry. You were beyond upset and sad. You felt like a burden who being sent away to make everyone else feel better.

“Love, it will be ok. I’ll see you in two weeks for the Nashville show.” Harry comments watching your face scrunch up withholding the tears. “I just want you to see your therapist for a few days.”

“I don’t wanna go. It was one panic attack. Ive done fine every other night and on the bus.” You huff not making eye contact with Harry. “You’re just sending me away.”

Harry feels his heart break in two. “That’s not-“

“We are now welcoming our first class passengers.” He was cut off by the attendant. You grab your duffle on the ground, opening your phone to the electronic ticket. You moved to get in the line but Harry was quick to grab your arm to stop you. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the look of hurt on his face.

“You’re not even gonna say goodbye?” He whispers.

“Why should I? You said it for me when you purchased the ticket without even talking to me about it. I’ll call you when I land, I love you and goodbye.” You snatched your arm away, rushing to the slowly growing line of passengers.

Harry watched in defeat as you trudged onto the bridge that boarded onto the plane. You felt those traitorous tears push past the surface, your feet feeling like they were dragging behind you- wanting you to go back to your heart.

The entire flight home was painful. All hours spent on the flight looking lifelessly out of the window. Harry put you in first class but none of the comfortable perks could make you happy.

It was weird to walk back into your home with no one there walking in with you or even waiting for you. The house was dark and quiet and you felt scared to even be in the stupid beach side mansion all alone. Times like this made you regret moving in with Harry. This house only felt like home when he was there, any other time felt like your own personal solitary confinement.

Hey lovie, hope you’re flight went well. Having groceries delivered to the house for you. I love you and miss you. Xxx H.

You scoffed. That anger from before bubbling within you. He misses you? You left him on read, the pettiness easing the anger.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the small read notification under his sent message. He waited a few moments thinking maybe you just forgot to press send. Minutes turned to hours and hours turned into the next day.

You sat at the dining room table watching the waves eat up the sand and pull granules away at a time. Your laptop sat in front of you after you finished a telehealth therapy appointment. A ring sounded from the laptop signaling that someone was FaceTiming you.

Harry’s icon popped up in the corner of the screen. You hesitated before answering. You couldn’t bare to look at yourself in the camera knowing you looked a mess. Your eyes swollen from the sobbing during therapy. Harry thought you looked beautiful nonetheless.

“Good morning baby.” He broke the silence.

“Hi.” Was all you could muster. This wasn’t the two of you. You both would normally fill a space with sound and giggles and now it was just silence.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. He looked as disheveled as you. Hair messy, face red and puffy.

“Fine.” You didn’t look at him, playing with the frayed edges of your Live on Tour hoodie. Harry huffed in frustration.

“Is this how it will be from now on?” He snapped. Your head snapped up out of shock.

“You’re getting at me like somethings my fault!” You snapped back.

“Well, we didn’t leave on the right foot.”

“You sent me away!” You retaliate.

“No, I did not. You had a panic attack before I went on stage. I had to come on stage late because I was consoling you.”

You flinched at his comment and tone of voice.

“So it’s my fault? I can’t control the panic attacks. It wasn’t like I conjured one up for attention.” His lack of response broke you. “Really?”

“No, I don’t think you did it for attention but it’s a lot Y/N. I want to take you on tour with me but it’s a lot for me and you know it’s a lot for you.” He tries. His words hurt though. You’ve felt like a burden your entire life and to feel that way because of the love of your life hurts even more.

“Ok. Um, I have to go.” You choke out. Harry shakes his head, the weight of his words catching up with you.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. I love you and I only want to protect you.”

“Yeah, protect me by sending me away when things get tough. I’m sorry for being a burden Harry.” You hang up before he could get the last word in.

Harry sat on his hotel bed shocked. He doesn’t know how things escalated the way they did. He made her feel like a burden. His body racks with sobs as he thinks of how his love must be feeling.

The day of Harry’s Philly show you felt uneasy. You didn’t like not being with Harry. You got so used to your preshow rituals with him. It hurt to be left out after being so involved.

Harry felt the same way. His regret evident in the way that he couldn’t stop blowing up your phone with short apologies and messages. He woke up alone in the hotel room on the day of a show feeling like utter crap.

His stomach was in knots and his heart couldn’t stop pounding. Normally before a show you both would share a light meal and have small discussions about nothing. You both would take silly selfies together or watch tiktoks. But now it was just Harry.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, impulsively clicking your contact to face time.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” He mutters. He lets out a sigh of relief when your face reveals.

“Hi, Harry.” You murmur, your face squished into a pillow, his pillow because it smells good.

“Hi-hi baby.” He stutters fidgeting in his seat.

“What do you need?”

“I need you. You’re not a burden. I want you here, not there but here. I have a show in a few hours and all I can think about is how you’re not here with me.” He cries. You sit up in the bed, tearing up watching your boyfriend cry. His shoulders shook with the sobs that wracked through his chest.

“Harry, please breathe. Your gonna hurt yourself.” You try to calm him down but can tell it’s not working.

“Come back.” He whimpers.

“I-I think I’m going to stay home until Nashville. We both need a breather from each other and I know I need to see my psychiatrist and probably get some new anxiety medication. Which will take the two weeks to kick in you know?” You reason. Harry wiped his face of tears nodding understandingly.

“Ok. I miss you though. I fucked up horribly by making you feel less than. I know you’re not a burden and I’d do anything for you. The stress of tour is starting to weigh on me and I took it out in you when I shouldnt have. I also thought I was keeping you safe by sending you home, but I shouldn’t have done that. Because we are a team, I shouldn’t be making choices for you.”

“Thank you for apologizing. I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to protect me, I know. I love you Bubby.” Harry felt his world come back together at the nickname, a signal that you two would be alright. “You have a show in like three hours, you need to get ready. Eat some food, drink water please, and I’ll go and scroll through TikTok and send you all of my faves ok?”

“Ok. Thank you for being everything to me. I couldn’t do what I do today if I didn’t have you in my life.” Harry’s sincerity made your heart swell.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We will be alright. Now go!” You urged him to hang up the phone. He gave you one last smile before hanging up.

Watching Harry through some Instagram live wasn’t what you had planned for but it felt good to see him. He even wore the outfit you picked out with Harry lambert, the blue and pink paying homage to fine line. You’re heart gushes when he tells the crowd that he’s feeling really happy.

The next day you have another therapy appointment with your regular therapist, you even phone in Harry to join the call. You felt warm on the inside as your therapist reassured that you and Harry’s relationship was on the right path. She even said that you and Harry were meant to be together.

She didn’t have to tell Harry that for him to already know that information. I mean he had the ring sitting in his pocket to prove it.

#harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles love on tour #hslot #harry styles fic #harry styles

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blog #harry styles headcannon #harry styles au #dad!harry #one direction smut #one direction fanfiction

[nobodyfamousposts]

Chloe's Lament Part 2

Next part of Chloe's Lament. Chloe begins to learn of the changes to reality from her Wish.

She will not be happy about this.

____________________

When Chloe woke up, the first thing that struck her was the loud banging sounds from somewhere below her.

The second thing was pain.

“I have a headache!” She called out, laying an arm over her sleep mask-covered eyes. Her butler would hear her and respond accordingly, of course. He always did.

“And get them to stop that racket down there!” She flopped on her bed with a huff, waiting for the help to return with aid.

Really, the things she dealt with!

Normally, her butler would arrive immediately, with painkillers and fruit-infused water being presented to her within a minute.

But to her growing frustration, that minute came and passed.

Then two.

Three…

Not that Chloe was counting.

Eventually, it had been five minutes and there was still no word from the man. And to make matters worse, that damn banging from below was only getting louder and increasing her suffering.

“Ugh! Do I have to do everything myself?!”

She ripped off the sleep mask, only to wince at the level of brightness in the room. She was on the top floor with the best visibility but the windows were supposed to be tinted and covered to prevent this very thing!

Once her vision cleared, several things should have stood out as odd.

But the first thing to attract her notice was the sleep mask she had just removed—some cheapo dime-store brand. She tossed the rag away with a shriek.

“Is this a prank?!” She demanded. “That is not my personalized diamond-studded satin custom made facial mask! Jean? Jean!”

There was a ruckus from below. The sound of something being dropped. Footsteps—loud and fast and getting closer. Then the opening of a door.

“Precious! Is everything okay?”

She sneered at the sound of her father’s voice.

“No! My sleep mask was stolen, it’s too bright, my head is KILLING me and no one is getting me anything to help!”

He looked confused at that. “Are you out of Efferalgan in your bathroom cabinet?”

She gave him a look. Why would she have to get up and go to the bathroom for some painkillers when there should be someone to hand them to her?

He gave her a strange look in response. Like he was confused his daughter would expect someone to do something as simple as bringing her painkillers and water.

And water.

Preferably cherry-infused.

Was that really so much to ask? Or even require asking?

“Just…hang on a moment.” He said and left her her bathroom.

Finally.

With nothing to do but wait, she glanced around, noting that…this was not her room.

Not the one she knew, anyway.

The light that had blinded her before was from a central window overlooking the room that so obtrusively settled on her bed. In addition, there was a skylight placed above a nook set behind her bed, which brought more light into the room.

She vaguely recognized the room. Well, by its floor plan, at least. The layout and decor threw her off though. The furniture and items were clearly cheaper than her usual high end designer brands. But she saw aspects that were suited to her tastes. Minute indications of her own touch in the assortment of objects around her. Yellow and white as the themes. Black cushions and aesthetic.

It was…decent. But so beneath her it was embarrassing! These were cheap models! Practically plastic! The bedsheets were…ugh…cotton of all things! The lamps were dim! She was missing her boudoir! And her shoes! And her jewelry! She didn’t even want to imagine the nightmare that was her closet—it was practically a hole in the wall! There was no way it would fit everything!

“Here you are, dear!” Her father said, returning from her bathroom with a glass of water and a pill in hand.

She fought the grimace.

Was this tap water?

Gross!

By his expectant look, he clearly meant for her to drink it.

With her continuing headache and no better option for fast relief, Chloe reluctantly took the proffered items. She was unable to help the slightest grimace before she downed them both.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be getting back to setting up for the morning rush. Come downstairs to the bakery when you’re ready.” He looked almost relieved to be leaving.

Chloe barely took notice now that she had what she needed. Instead, she took to contemplating her situation and her new surroundings.

All the furniture aside, this room looked familiar. Not really well known, because Chloe was sure she had never been in such a place before. But…like she had seen it somewhere…TV maybe?

And her Daddykins was here. That meant…wherever she was, it was apparently expected for her to be here.

But where was here?

The last thing she remembered was…

She closed her eyes, straining to think past the pain.

That’s right! Hawk Moth’s offer! The Bee! She was Miracle Queen! And she had just won! She had Ladybug beaten…

Her fists clenched.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng…

It hit her.

This was just like her room!

She had only seen it a couple of times. Once for sure when Sabrina had snuck into her room per Chloe‘s instructions for blackmail material. She happened to glimpse a picture of the room here or there from other people’s phones of times that they had spent in this room—that she had really cared. It was a small and dingy room that had nothing on her glamorous abode at the hotel, which of course, was superior in every way.

She was vaguely reminded of that one show that Marinette hadn’t stopped talking about which had also apparently shown Marinette‘s room, but Chloe honestly hadn’t been bothered enough to watch it, so she didn’t have that to go on. But with what she did know, it was a safe bet to assume that this was some knockoff of Marinette‘s room.

So why was Chloe here? Why was her dad downstairs?

She… she had made the Wish, hadn’t she?

…

…

…

What…is this it?

She turned up her nose at the environment around her, completely unimpressed.

Was this dinky little room with its weird setup and tacky decor what the Wish gave her? Why would she be in any copy of Dupain-Cheng’s room layout anyway?

The Wish should have changed reality, that much was clear. There was no way she would be caught dead in Dupain-Cheng’s room otherwise—much less sleeping there like it was her own room!

…unless…it was her room?

Was it?

She had found some aspects of the room to her taste, but did that mean this was hers?

It would explain why she was there. And why her Daddy had come up. He had mentioned her bathroom earlier, then had gone through the nearby door to get a tablet and water from what she could only assume was the bathroom he had spoken of.

…he had mentioned a bakery.

Eyes wide, she stumbled out of bed and to the window. Sure enough, the school was just across the way. And there was a sign out front.

“Bourgeois Bakery”

Chloe stared.

Suddenly, it clicked. The banging from downstairs. Her Daddy talking about a ‘morning rush’. And to come down to the…

…no way!

This place was a bakery! Her Daddy was operating a bakery!

And given her location, it was the same bakery that Marinette’s parents owned originally!

This…

…wait…

…did this mean she was supposed to be Marinette?

She threw her pillow in a fury.

Stupid Wish! This wasn’t at all what she wanted!

You would think all-powerful Wish-granting artifacts would do it right!

“Where are those kwamis?!” She demanded, jumping out of the bed and looking around for anywhere she would keep such important jewels. “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”

She had a boudoir along with the various jewelry pieces kept there ranging among a variety of gold and diamonds—all fakes, much to her disappointment. And not a single Miraculous among them.

She slammed the final drawer in with a curse.

Nothing!

If she had the Miraculous, shouldn’t they still be with her? Do they just disappear after being used?

Ugh! Those things really were useless! Utterly useless!

It was when she stood back to full height that she noticed the monthly calendar. There were the standard holidays, but also a weekly appointment every Friday evening with some ‘Bridgette’. What was that? A spa day?

She shot a glance to her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She definitely needed one. She could just feel all the oils on her skin!

But more to the point, there was one day circled on the calendar.

‘Start of School’

She grabbed her phone—an older, obsolete model with a glittery but fake casing—and checked the date.

That…

That was today.

It was the first day of school. A…

She checked the date again, and sure enough, it was a year ago!

Had the Wish taken her back in time?

She froze, realization hitting her.

This was the first day of school. The same day as the first akuma attack.

And when Ladybug first appeared.

That meant…she was sent back in time to the day Marinette would become Ladybug.

It was a year in the past. She wasn’t at the hotel. Her room was in a bakery. Her father was working as a baker. She was Marinette now.

That meant…

She giggled, feeling a giddiness rise within her.

Today was the day she becomes Ladybug!

It looks like the Wish did something right, after all!

Chloe grinned, spinning away from the mirror and to her closet.

She had to get ready! She had to prepare the perfect outfit! Something for the day she becomes a hero!

No. THE hero!

She knew how the Ladybug worked. Hell, she knew the akumas to come. With her prior knowledge and skills, she would know how to use the yoyo and how to use the Lucky Charm better than the old Ladybug ever did! She’d have every akuma in the bag!

Hell, maybe she could force the Ladybug kwami to tell her where the Guardian is so she can get the other Miraculous, too! That way, she could have both the Ladybug AND the Bee again.

And her Adrikens would be her partner! To support her! To stay by her side! Just as it should be!

She paused, something niggling at the back of her brain. There was something she was forgetting.

A glance around the room as she wondered

Of course, the full extent of the change and just what that meant didn’t really hit her until she went downstairs and actually saw her father.

The poor man was in the middle of retrieving a pan lined with croissants from the unbearably hot oven, his hair contained in…fishnet? Latex? Whatever the cafeteria cooks wore when she had no choice but to eat from the school’s lunchroom.

Gross! He looked like a lunch lady!

He didn’t seem to notice her, too busy dancing around the kitchen and checking over the…whatever pastries those were and just looking proud of himself.

Daddykins, no. You’re better than this! How could you be reduced to such a state?

He seemed to notice her staring. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, looking concerned.

“Er…yeah.” She replied. She wasn’t, really, but she couldn’t tell him that. He could try to have her stay home and how would she get to see the fruits of her labors from there?

“Ah good!” He said cheerfully. “It is the first day of the new school year, and you certainly want to…” He hesitated, “…start off on the right foot.”

A pause. He looked at her expectantly, but she had no idea what he was getting at.

He shook his head and turned away for a moment to grab a box before coming back and presenting it to her.

Clearly he wanted her to take it, so she sighed and took hold of the box. A peek inside revealed a number of macarons.

For her? Now this was what she was talking about!

“Oh, Daddykins! You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I figured it would be a great way to start off the new year by sharing them with your classmates.”

Ugh. Seriously? All happy feelings vanished in an instant and she shot him a petulant look.

“Why should I have to share?” She demanded.

He hesitated.

She glared, tapping her foot in a clear indication of wanting an answer. Or preferably for him to just say they were all hers.

“It’s a new year and a new start.” Andre said, smiling nervously. “Maybe it’s time to just let bygones be bygones?“

It was a stupid question and she sure let him know it. She stared at him flatly, causing him to wilt.

Andre sighed.

“I know you don’t like her, but…” he hesitated. “Please, just try to get along?”

She blinked.

“Her?”

Wait.

Wait…

It suddenly struck her.

If she was Dupain-Cheng now…

That meant Marinette was in her shoes!

She grinned.

Marinette would be her bully! She’d be the rich bitch daughter of the Mayor and loathed by Paris while Chloe would be—

The one everyone rallied around.

The one Adrikens adored.

The one chosen as Ladybug!

She would have it all!

Part of her hoped the other girl would know about the previous reality…just so she could shove it in her face!

“Just take it slow,” he continued, unaware of her true thoughts. “And then you can report about it to Bridgette at your counseling session on Friday.”

Wait—counseling?

Seeing her expression, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I know you don’t like it, but it was part of the agreement. You need to make a better impression this year, sweetie.”

“What?”

“She’s the daughter of the Mayor. I’m not sure we can take another…” He trailed off before shaking his head and looking at her imploringly. “You understand, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

She got it!

“Of course, Daddykins!”

Clearly Dupain-Cheng was abusing her influence, just as she thought!

She had to hand it to the girl…a part of her hadn’t been quite convinced that she would go quite that far. But that just proof that Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so perfect and that even she would be the same as Chloe once in her position!

Chloe knew she would have to bear with the mistreatment for now. No matter how much it would grate her. It would suck to have to have to accept it for any period of time.

Still, it would be worth it! It just meant even more ammunition to use against her once Chloe was Ladybug!

She didn’t even notice the look of concern he gave her or his weak goodbye as she left the bakery with the box in hand. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Particularly her plans.

And what plans they were!

So what if Maribrat had Chloe’s wealth? It wasn’t like she knew the first thing about status or being a symbol. No, Ladybug did that for her and she didn’t even use it right! Not like Chloe would.

She smirked to herself, imagining the future.

Well, as soon as she got the Miraculous, taking the pigtailed down a peg would be the first thing on her list. Maybe a dip in the Seine? Or ‘accidentally’ getting her hit by an akuma or two?

Why limit it to her personally? If Ladybug spoke out against the mayor, who would vote for him? From what she remembered of Marinette’s dad, that oaf had no business being in politics anyway! Then there was the hotel, which would no doubt be a mess with him in charge anyway.

And best of all, she thought with glee, with a word from Paris’s favorite hero, Dupain-Cheng could be implicated as an ally of Hawk Moth.

Who wouldn’t believe it? If Marinette was in Chloe’s place, that meant she had to be a brat despised by Paris. Everyone would likely jump at the excuse to run her out of the city!

It was slightly disappointing that the former Ladybug wouldn’t know why the new Ladybug was so against her or that she had even been replaced, but she didn’t deserve answers anyway.

For once, Chloe was getting everything she wanted. It was like the Universe itself was on her side! Chloe would be the hero with all the Miraculous and status just as she’d always deserved. And everyone would automatically see it and love her while they would already recognize Marinette as the selfish bitch Chloe always knew she was!

It was a win/win for Chloe and all her fans—which was the best kind of win for Chloe.

Sure, it meant she would have to suffer the loss of her basic comforts like a butler, the latest in fashion and accessories, and easy immediate access to a luxury spa for now…but it would be worth it in the long run.

…maybe not the luxury spa. She would kill for the hotel’s oils and masseuse. But she would just have to deal with, ugh, scheduling with a four star locale in the meantime.

It’s for the greatest good, she reminded herself, looking mournfully at her chipped nails.

And besides, she didn’t have to suffer for long.

Today was the first day of school, which signified the first appearance of Ladybug! This was the day she achieved her destiny! Once she became Ladybug, she would be back on top!

So what if her dad was a baker instead of a hotel owner this go around? Who said it had to stay that way? Just as she could use her position to defame the Dupain-Chengs and ruin Marinette, she could endorse the bakery for free publicity. Do special promotions and deals for money. Or even better! She could make the city pay her for her work!

After all, how much was her Miracle Cure worth, really? How much would the city be willing to pay for her to fix the damage caused by akuma fights? It was only what she was owed; the least they could do is compensate her for her time.

Really, it was Marinette’s own fault for not taking advantage while she could. She could’ve been an idol or the city’s star. She could have used the Miraculous to create an army. Hell, Hawk Moth should have been nothing against her! And instead, she just…wasted her potential. On things like loose zoo animals or out of control helicopters, no less!

Chloe wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And now that Chloe was set to be the city’s hero…

Even if Marinette was rich (for now), it would be nothing compared to what Chloe would have. She would be Paris’s hero! The BEST hero! And unlike that has-been, she at least would use Ladybug’s power and status right!

She didn’t need to be the daughter of the Mayor! Her Mother was still THE Style Queen, Audrey Bourgeois. Adrien Agreste was still her best friend. She was still Chloe Bourgeois, the best thing to happen to Paris! And now as Ladybug, she would still be back on top and ruling Paris in no time!

And it would all start once she got to school.

“Get out of my way!” She exclaimed, shoving some old fart taking his sweet time walking, sending him to the ground and out of her way.

Move aside, peons!

Her destiny awaits!

Back at the intersection, Chloe never noticed the way the elderly gentleman cast her a judging stare from his position on the ground. Or his muttering.

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you okay?” Came a voice.

“Ah, yes!” He replied, accepting the offered hand and taking stock of the girl it belonged to. She was young. In college, likely. “Thank you, young lady!”

“Of course!” She smiled, handing him back his cane. “Do you need help getting home from here? That looked like quite a fall.”

“But don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked.

“Just school, but I can spare a few minutes if you need…?”

“There is no need for that.” He shook his head. “I will be fine, thank you for your concern.”

Yes, he decided with a smile as he watched her go, this one will do.

_________________

Ugh, walking. Who invented such a thing? She couldn’t wait until she had a personal limo again. This was so not good for her!

Chloe continued plotting as she walked, magnanimously choosing to consider this as part of the reason for revenge instead of its own thing.

And speaking of revenge! Let’s see…

She scrunched her face, trying to remember the events of the first day of school.

There had been that fight with Marinette over her seat. ‘My seat now’, she realized with glee. ‘Which means I’ll be back next to Adrikens!’

Where she should be.

And if she and Dupain-Cheng were now supposed to be switched, that meant ‘the horrible bully Marinette’ would be picking on ‘poor sweet little Chloe’.

She couldn’t wait!

‘Let’s see how you handle being in my shoes, Dupain-Cheng!’

She giggled to herself, ignoring the weirded out looks she was getting from some passing students.

Or the way the other students in general seemed to give her a wide berth.

As they should for the real Queen Bee of this school!

She was already imagining how this was going to go. And with the classroom only a few feet ahead, her vindication was already so close she could taste it!

Except when she finally arrived at the class, it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right.

Dupain-Cheng was there as expected. With her same kiddie pigtails and her pink and grey ensemble with polka-dots—what kind of designer was she anyway?

What wasn’t expected, however, was that Cesaire was already was there as well.

Originally, Cesaire defended Dupain-Cheng and they became friends. If things played out the same, shouldn’t Cesaire be coming in late? Or standing up to Dupain-Cheng here? If anything, they already seemed to be friends.

Unless Cesaire was Dupain-Cheng’s tool like Sabrina had been for her?

It made sense that this new reality would swap more around, she reasoned.

Except…

Chloe frowned. Now that she was actually close enough to the classroom, she could see the classmates gathered into a sort of half circle around Dupain-Cheng and her follower. And as she reached the doorway, she could more clearly hear what they were saying.

“—at the Le Grand Paris.” Marinette said, gesturing to Alya with a smile.

“Wow!”

“So cool!”

“That’s awesome! So you’ve just been staying at the hotel until you can get settled in?”

Alya nodded, smiling. “Yeah. At least for a little while until we could get our own apartment. Mr. Dupain-Cheng was really accommodating. Luckily, we didn’t need it for long before Mom found something. She didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, but it’s just really amazing that he was willing to offer us room and board just to have Mom as part of his staff!”

Chloe raised a nose in disgust.

Who ever heard of such a thing?! What hotel made any profit letting people stay for free?

“We met when I was cleaning rooms and she offered to help!” Marinette explained brightly.

Chloe nearly gagged.

Cleaned?

Marinette…actually cleaned the hotel?

Why do something that gross?

That’s what the help was for! And Sabrina.

Speaking of, where was she?

Chloe glanced around, but Sabrina was nowhere to be seen amongst the classmates.

Maybe the Wish had done more than switch her with Dupain-Cheng? Maybe Cesaire and Sabrina had been switched as well? So that meant Sabrina should be the new transfer, right?

No wait, that didn’t add up. She had just walked in on Cesaire being introduced.

Sabrina was probably just her best friend, then.

She nodded.

That was good enough, she supposed. At least if she couldn’t have her necessities from the hotel, she still had Sabrina to take care of the more mundane tasks for her.

Unaware of her thoughts, Marinette had continued talking to the others unhindered.

“—said she would be coming to Francios Dupont, and I knew I had to introduce her. She’s new, so be nice.” She instructed, giving a stare to Kim in particular. “Kim.”

The taller boy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give her a week before any challenges.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Challenges? Dare I ask?”

Everyone groaned.

“No dares.” Nino begged, covering his face with his hat. “Please. Kim is bad enough every year. I still can’t look at the hotel without remembering what happened last time…”

“Yeah, your dumb dare got us banned from the hotel’s pool for a month!” Alix said, pointing at Kim, who shrugged helplessly.

“Speaking of the hotel!” Marinette cut in, pulling out her tablet. “I convinced my dad to let us do this year’s work study at the hotel.” She tapped her tablet. “I have a little bit of influence over what they’ll choose as assignments, so we can try to come up with roles everyone will like.”

“Hey yeah! That sounds awesome!”

The classmates crowded the desk, chatting excitedly.

“So where will everyone go?”

“Maybe Kim and Max in security? Or Alix and Max in security, so Kim could work the pool area.”

“As a lifeguard?” Kim asked cheerfully. “I’ve done some training, after all.”

Marinette sent him a wry look and pretended to be thinking it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe as a pool cleaner?”

Kim pouted. “No fair, Mari!”

“Hey, it would do you some good to learn the cleaning process for the pools you use so much.” Mylene said, half jokingly and half pointedly, making Kim lower his head and groan.

Marinette giggled a little. “Well at any rate, I’ve set up a list of all the different jobs at the hotel so people can mark their top preferences. Between all the options, everyone is bound to find something that’ll suit them best.”

She sent Adrien a knowing look. “And of course Adrien will be in the kitchen.”

Adrien beamed at that.

Not that Chloe noticed.

“Kitchen?!” Chloe squawked. “You’re going to make my Adrikens work in a dirty old kitchen?!”

She had known Marinette would be bad, but how dare she punish Adrikens like that? She could just see it now! Her poor Adrikens, forced to slave away in a room meant for servants like…like he was a servant! Where he could get covered in grime and burn his precious skin!

Everyone frowned at her, as if she was the one being ridiculous!

The boy in question raised his hand.

“But I want to—”

“That is a flagrant abuse of power!” Chloe shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. “She’s making Adrikens work like a maid! What if his father hears about this?!”

Adrien wilted in on himself.

“The kitchen isn’t dirty or old.” Marinette said, sounding annoyingly calm with a terseness in her tone that Chloe had heard some service workers use when dealing with particularly difficult customers—though why they used it with her was beyond her. It was as if Marinette was acting like she the reasonable one dealing with an unreasonable customer or something. “They just finished the remodeling three months ago, we clean it regularly, and all of our utensils and equipment are taken good care of.”

“That’s not the point!” Chloe shouted. “How could you use my Adrikens in such a way? Gabriel Agreste would never approve when he hears about this!”

Because he would be hearing about this! Chloe would make sure of it!

“I could just explain to Mr. Agreste that this would be for good publicity.” Marinette suggested. “I’m sure he would allow it.”

She knew it! There were really no lows she wouldn’t go to!

“You’re really pushing this! And you call yourself Adrikens’ friend!” Chloe pointed at Marinette accusingly. “Just because your Daddy’s the Mayor doesn’t mean you can treat people like they’re lesser than you!”

Marinette frowned, looking uncertain as her gaze flickered between the others.

Hah! Even in Chloe’s position, Marinette still wavered easily and she couldn’t hide her insecurities to save her life. It was why she always gave in in the end! Anyone would roll over someone showing such an obvious weakness!

Hell, she may not even need to wait to see her taken down. This was a perfect opportunity to lead everyone in rising up against her tyranny.

After a few seconds, she turned back to face Chloe, no doubt to attack her for challenging her and show her true colors—

“Chloe, are you okay?”

Huh?

“My Dad just runs the Hotel. He isn’t the Mayor.”

What?!

“My Mom is. You met her at your…” She hesitated, sending the others a glance before lowering her voice, “…meeting, remember?”

She had to bite her tongue regarding the ridiculousness of Dupain-Cheng’s mother being the Mayor. Was that woman even a French citizen?

But it was the other part of Marinette’s statement that concerned her. What meeting? What was she even getting at? Why was she trying to be quiet about it.

Nevermind! She’d worry about that later!

“It doesn’t matter!” Chloe shouted, forcing Marinette to back away. “The fact is that you can’t just throw your weight around to get your way and treat people however you like! And I’m not the only one who feels that way!” She exclaimed, turning to the classmates in expectation.

…only to get a number of blank or confused stares in response.

“Um, what are you even talking about?” Alya asked incredulously.

What?

“Yeah, dude! Marinette doesn’t treat anyone that way.” Nino added.

What?

“The only one who pulls that sort of thing is you.” Said Nathaniel bitingly.

Since when does that loser talk?

And also, what?!

“And aren’t you supposed to be leaving Marinette alone?” Alix asked, giving Chloe a pointed look.

What even was that about?

“I thought that was the agreement.” Mylene said quietly.

Seriously?! Was everyone on her side?

They were supposed to be silent! Or judging the Mayor’s brat! That’s what they did with Chloe! Instead, they were jumping to her defense!

“Are you serious?” She demanded. “Like she doesn’t abuse her power and authority to push people around!”

“Of course not!” Marinette insisted. And then to Chloe’s rage, seemed to draw herself up even more, actually looking confident and self assured in a way Chloe herself had never felt in her place. “As the daughter of the mayor, I have to set a good example.”

Ex…

Example?

What even was that?

Unaware of Chloe’s short-circuiting, she continued. “And Chloe, I wouldn’t force anyone to do a role that they don’t want. That’s why I brought the list here for the class to review first.” She gestured to her tablet. “That way everyone has a chance to pick what roles they want and we can avoid the ones no one wants to do. How is that a bad thing?”

It wasn’t, admittedly. But Marinette wasn’t supposed to be the one doing it! That was the problem!

“And who put you in charge?!” Chloe demanded of Marinette. “Why are you deciding where we’ll do the work study? What, are you using the Class Rep position to flaunt your family’s hotel?”

It would make sense. Chloe had been the Class Rep for years originally. If Marinette was her…

Marinette just gave her a strange look.

“No. I’m not Class Rep, remember?”

Chloe balked.

“What?”

“Chloe, did you hit your head?” Marinette asked, sounding worried. She held a hand out in offering. “Do you need to go to the Nurse’s Office?”

Chloe jerked away from the girl’s outreached hand. Why would Dupain-Cheng still be acting…nice?

Clearly she must still be pretending!

“Nevermind that! If you aren’t the Class Rep, then who is?”

“Your benevolent dictator is here!” Came a voice. A familiar voice. The last one Chloe expected.

“Hey, Class Rep.” Marinette said, giving Chloe a pointed look while waving to the person behind her.

Chloe turned slowly. She had to force herself to move. The strain made it feel like her bones were creaking.

Behind her, Sabrina stood tall with a tablet in hand and looking…surprisingly well for a new reality as a lackey of someone other than Chloe. She almost didn’t recognize her.

Chloe stood straight, expecting the standard greeting.

To her shock, Sabrina didn’t even look at her, instead moving past her to…

“Wow, Marinette! Nice jacket!” Sabrina said first thing in greeting as she moved over to the other girl in interest.

Marinette blushed at the praise. “Thanks! My dad got me some new fabric and I was inspired to try this style!” She gave a wink. “Now this is just a test run to see how it works out.”

“It certainly looks comfortable.” Sabrina said in awe.

Were…were they ignoring her?

“I have some of the material left.” Marinette said. “I could make you your own for your birthday if you want?”

Oh gag! Why would anyone want Marinette’s tacky creations instead of the latest in season creation?

And there was Sabrina looking like that was something to be excited about!

Oh no! Without Chloe to guide her, she had lost any sense of fashion! No matter how much fuller her hair was or how she no longer looked like a strong wind could blow her away!

Clearly, her life was a tragedy without Chloe!

“And I checked like you asked.” Marinette continued, unaware of Chloe’s glare. “My Dad said we could do the work study at his hotel.”

“Thank you!” Sabrina cheered. “That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that when you came in.” Marinette explained.

Chloe glared pointedly at the girl over the way she was blatantly ignoring that they had been in the middle of Chloe calling her out! Seriously, what was the point of getting to tell people off for their flaws if they were going to ignore you and pretend it never happened! Really! You can’t just ignore the truth like that!

“We were discussing what positions everyone wanted.” Mylene said. “Even if we can’t get the exact ones we’d like, there’ll at least be options.”

“Juleka and I can clean the ball room!” Rose exclaimed. “It will give us a chance to check the acoustics of the room. We’ve been wondering about the effects and what to expect if our band ever plays in such an area.“

Nino looked intrigued at that. “Hey, that does sound like a good idea. Maybe sign me up for that as well?” He asked, turning to Marinette before mumbling to himself about the echo effect on his beats.

Marinette gave him a nod before turning back to Rose. “I heard you guys just started, didn’t you?“

Rose nodded, beaming. “It’s so much fun!”

Marinette smiled and marked it down on her list. “Then I’ll suggest that for you.”

She paused for a moment, hesitating in clear unwillingness to continue before giving a strained smile.

“And Chloe...”

“How about trash cleanup?” Alix snarked, giving the girl a dark look.

“Excuse you?!” Chloe shouted in outrage. “Do you know who my daddy is?!”

The looks she was given were completely unimpressed.

“A baker?”

“And not even a good one.”

"Hey, his croissants are all right."

Chloe blanched, remembering that her father wasn’t the mayor in this world.

He wasn’t even rich.

He was just a baker now. A simple ordinary not even very good baker who was barely keeping his head above water trying to maintain his business and manage his teenage daughter.

And that made Chloe…

Nothing.

Her go to tactic now had no power.

But…but Sabrina! She realized in a flash that her minion was apparently the Class Rep! She could have her back her!

But when she spun around to look, the girl had actually just abandoned her and the gathering altogether to sit next to Mylene of all people! Mylene! And they were just…chatting! Since when did those two spend time together! And why wasn’t Sabrina there for her?!

“Chloe!” Came the only voice worth listening to.

Oh, Adrikens! Of course you would always be there for her!

She spun to him in expectation. Because of course her Adrikens would be on her side! Her savior! Her only ally against such cruel tyranny—

But he didn’t look happy. Or in any way amicable to her. “Don’t forget!” He whispered sharply to her. “You’re still on probation! You can’t start another commotion before the first class of the school year has even started!”

Chloe blinked.

Pro…

Probation?

…

…

…

Her?!

“How am I on—?!”

It was impossible! She had never had a criminal record! She’d never even committed a crime! Or anything that warranted getting in trouble over!

Regardless of what Ladybug said, since she clearly had it out for her.

“Just leave Marinette alone.” Adrien whispered, turning her away from the rest of the group and…her. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. There were so many questions and so many things she wanted to demand right now. She was very well inclined to make demands regardless, because she didn’t know what was going on and she needed answers.

But it was her Adrikens asking.

And she didn’t have much chance to say anything else as Bustier had chosen that time to arrive.

“Welcome back, everyone!” The woman greeted cheerfully. Her arrival cut off all other discussion as the students made their way to their desks. “I hope everyone had a good break and that we’re all ready to start the new year.”

A chorus of affirmations followed as everyone took their seats.

Everyone except Chloe, who was glancing around the room in confusion.

None of this was right.

She had expected to fight with Marinette over her seat to get to sit behind Adrien, but he was sitting at the back next to Nathaniel. And Marinette was sitting in the mid row on the other side from him, pulling Alya to sit next to her. But if she wasn’t sitting behind Adrien, what was even the point of challenging her for her seat?

…where even was Chloe’s seat?

She would have sad next to Sabrina, but that traitor hadn’t moved from her spot next to Mylene and left no room for Chloe! And nobody else was calling Chloe over—so if someone else had taken Sabrina’s place as her best friend, she had no way of even knowing who it was!

“Chloe,” Bustier called to her, ever so gently. “Your seat is up at the front, remember? As we discussed the last time we met.” She gestured to the bench at the front.

It was across the one Chloe had sat at previously, being the front desk closest to the door. And to her frustration, there was no one sitting with her! How else was she supposed to get her assignments copied? And wasn’t that the seat that loser, Nino, had been put in because he got in trouble? Chloe wasn’t in trouble though!

Adrien’s words about probation hit her, making her wince.

…was she?

She wanted to ask. She wanted to stomp her foot and demand the answers she deserved.

But Bustier was staring at her expectantly. And she could hear some giggles and snickering from behind her the longer she waited. She glanced back to Adrikens, but…he wasn’t even looking at her! He was conversing with Nathaniel over something on his sketchbook!

How could a sketchbook be more important than his best friend?!

With little other choice, Chloe slid into the front desk, blushing furiously in humiliation and trying to ignore everyone behind her.

It didn’t matter.

None of them mattered!

None of this would matter once she got the Miraculous and put Dupain-Cheng in her place! Then everyone would know SHE was the Queen Bee!

She was sure of it!

#ml fic #chloe's lament #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kwami swap #plagg #be careful what you wish for #chloe is not careful #chloe is a horrible person #miracle queen

[howaboutleeches]

Ive never sent an ask before so im not sure if it will work but how about the Arcana main 6 with a seamstress Mc :)

How would the Main Six React to a seamstress MC!

Asra:

🔮 Asra could go hours and hours just watching you sewing, putting pieces together, and working on your machine. He found it mesmerizing how skilled you were, his eyes focused on every hand movement of yours.

🔮 The sound of your machine calmed him down, and he could fall asleep on a couch next to your working space, the one he had prepared specially for you and your craft. Enough lightening to make your job easier, any materials you may need and a comfortable chair to keep you comfortable.

🔮 Once you started working, Faust paid attention to you as well. She would slither up your desk or your back and watch closely, her big eyes shining as she watched you working. "Friend, work hard!"

🔮 Asra didn't want to ask for it, but if you made something for him, he would keep it around him all the time. Wearing, wrapping around his neck, around his waist, he wouldn't let it go.

🔮 Even better if you made something for Faust as well. Maybe something matching for the three of you? It would definitely put a smile on his face and make Faust's tail wiggle in excitement.

Nadia:

👑 No matter how she came to know about your skill, either you telling her or she figuring it out on her own, she became very excited about it. "I've always admired seamstresses! I tried sewing once but I just didn't have enough skill to seek it further", she would say as she grabbed your hands, caressing them as if trying to feel the power coming from them.

👑 Not even a week later, she grabbed you by the arm and led you across the halls of the palace, until she stopped in front of a room, a bright smile on her face. She opened the door to reveal a room filled with fabrics, sewing machines, mannequins, and many other items that made your heart skip a bit.

👑 That was her way of showing how much she appreciated your work. Contributing with her money to help you have the best environment (and products) to pursue your sewing career.

👑 She would ask you to make her outfits and brag to other royals and her own family about how good you were. It didn't take long for you to start receiving requests from other kingdoms and from her relatives as well.

👑 She just wants to see you happy, and knowing she helped you with it also fills up her sense of pride. Don't get me wrong, she didn't do it so she could brag about it, but she likes to know her help took part in your happiness.

Julian:

♠️ When he came to know about what you did, he was beyond thrilled. He started to bombard you with the most various questions regarding your profession, how long you have been doing that, who taught you, and what kind of things you could make.

♠️ Although he felt a little embarrassed to ask for it, he would gather enough courage to do some stuff for him, if you wanted to and had the time, of course. Custom eyepatches would be his top request.

♠️ Eventually, he also started asking for costume capes. He got so excited when you would walk into the room waving a brand new cape, almost like a child receiving a Christmas gift.

♠️ He would often bring you books about sewing, and beautiful fabrics he bought with a discount, calling it his "contribution". The thing is, he felt guilty for asking you to do eyepatches and capes for him, but he felt so good wearing something you made, he couldn't help it!

♠️ Whenever your machine would have any sort of issue, he would rush to your aid and try to fix the situation, even if you knew how to do it yourself. He just loved being useful and getting a kiss on the cheek as a reward for his good deeds.

Muriel:

🌿 He and Inanna were curious regarding your machine. When it started to make noises, Inanna growled a little at it, but seeing it was harmless, she decided to approach and sniff. Soon, she started to enjoy the noises.

🌿 Muriel on the other hand had a frown on his face, saying he didn't like it. He actually didn't have anything against the machine itself, but he started feeling jealous of it. You spent so much time working on it, he felt left out.

🌿 You ended up noticing that and decided to set up a corner next to your working table where he could rest close to you and the fireplace as well. After that, his complaints stropped.

🌿 He sometimes went out to gather some flowers he found in the forest, hoping you could use them when sewing. He always tried to get the brightest and best smelling ones, saying they would look good on you.

🌿 If you made something for Inanna, he would think about proposing to you on the spot. Inanna has been his companion for a long time, and if you cared about her enough to do something nice for her out of genuine kindness, he would know you're the right one.

Portia:

🐈 After finding out about you being a seamstress, she bothered Mazelinka for days so she could give her an old sewing machine she had in her house and other sewing materials that were buried deep into her house. Even if they were there for a long time, they were still very good quality.

🐈 She loved to watch you sewing, finding the sound of the machine extremely relaxing. She also pulled Pepi into her lap to watch you, which she did with wide eyes, following every movement of your hand with her gaze.

🐈 Portia one day asked if you could make something for Pepi, which you agreed to. As a surprise, you made matching sweaters for Pepi and Portia, which made her tear up in joy.

🐈She always bragged about your work to Nadia, saying you were, without a doubt, the best seamstress in the entire city of Vesuvia, the whole world even! She was extremely proud of you and wasn't afraid to show it to anyone.

Lucio:

🐐At first, he tried to convince you to pursue another career path. He said you were royalty now, and royalty didn't have to sew, they had other people to do that for them. It slightly annoyed him that you were doing something that someone else could take off your shoulders.

🐐As he watched you work though, his opinion started to slowly change. He saw the effort and love you put into it, and the beautiful pieces you created. He slowly started to fall in love with it.

🐐He secretly ordered a sewing machine for himself, thinking that it should be easy to sew. Then, he would show you his final work and you would awe and praise him. At least that was his plan, but after twenty minutes of trying to get the machine to work, he gave up.

🐐 He swallowed his pride, something he has only done three times in his life (he kept count of it), and went to you, asking you to teach him how to sew. The smile on his face when he made a scarf was priceless. He paraded it around the castle, making sure that everyone knew he had done it himself. And that you, his amazing and talented partner, had taught him how.

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

Well, I've been absent for a good while now, I'm not even sure no one reads my stuff anymore, but if someone still does, here ya go! I hope you enjoy this (◠‿◠✿)

I plan on being more active, maybe posting once a week.

tag list

@the-chaos-siblings @angelyuji @diamondlight301 @antipositiva @alliespec @euphorically-bisexual @v--o-i--d @llavender-tae @iarychachy @sonofahell @sluttiestestablishment @esdtvbjikmkkjbvvh @mycomancer @spinehoarder @blackrose8425 @prettyorangepineapple @anjhope1 @updatedautopsyrep0rt

If you want to be added to the tag list, go interact on my pinned post so I can know  😉 💖

#the arcana game #the arcana imagine #the arcana lucio #the arcana headcanon #thearcana #thearcanaimagine #thearcanaheadcanon #asra headcanons #lucio smut #lucio imagine #asrathearcana #asra smut #nadiasatrinava #nadia x reader #lucio x reader #asra x reader #muriel x reader #portia x reader #julian x reader #julian the arcana #portia x mc #julian x mc #nadia x mc #muriel headcanon #julian headcanon

[myherowritings]

PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were… 

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless. 

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now? 

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly. 

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him! 

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet. 

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone. 

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!! 

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car. 

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?” 

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.” 

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.” 

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color. 

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?” 

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!” 

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently. 

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink. 

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange. 

“Purple?” 

Purple. 

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye. 

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile. 

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you. 

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift. 

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them. 

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location. 

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date. 

You grinned at the thought. 

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully. 

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!” 

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs? 

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself. 

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy. 

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread. 

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.” 

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric. 

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind. 

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it. 

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on. 

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress. 

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach. 

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room. 

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh. 

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.” 

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.” 

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.” 

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on. 

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you. 

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone. 

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here. 

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?” 

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed. 

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.” 

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?” 

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.) 

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.” 

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence. 

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch. 

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you. 

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both. 

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete. 

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment. 

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.” 

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.” 

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp. 

“Seems doable to me,” he commented. 

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #todoroki imagines #bnha todoroki #bnha fluff #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki

[samaraj]

Title - The trouble with love (Part 9)

Summary - Drama before the wedding?

Pairings - Reader x Sy

Warnings - None

You did a quick mental note before closing the suitcase on your bed. You had packed everything for the weekend including Sy’s outfit and yours. Just before zipping up the bag your fingers touched the soft off-white organza fabric and you were suddenly thankful that Amanda had taken you shopping the previous day. Although you were eloping, you wanted to at least look like a bride.

While Sy was off with Corey to pick up your rings, you busied yourself around the apartment. You walked into the living room and contemplated vacuuming again when the doorbell rang.

“Just a sec!” You yelled out as you rushed to answer it. “Amanda are you sure …” You expected to see your best friend but your mouth hung open when you realized it was Jessica, Sy’s ex fiancé.

“I’m sorry to just show up …” Jessica stood there in her tight pink mini dress and black jacket. “Is Sy home?” She fidgeted with a shiny black purse in her hand while tapping her stiletto impatiently. She certainly didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“What are you doing here?” You stared at her feeling very underdressed in your leggings snd sweatshirt.

“I need to speak with Sy”.

“About?”

“Uh that’s personal”. Jessica sighed. “Look I’m sorry but I don’t have his number …”

“So you thought it would be ok to just show up here?” You felt yourself getting annoyed quickly. “Look I know everything ok. But you have no business with Sy now. What were you after? More money?”

“What?”

“I know his mum paid you off”. You folded your arms on your chest. “Don’t deny it”.

“Ok .. yes I admit that wasn’t my brightest moment. But I was also hurt and probably still upset ..”

“And that justifies it all?”

“I can see that I’m getting nowhere fast. Look I’m moving house and .. well I found some things of Sy’s”. Jessica rolled her eyes. “I would much rather be telling him but you’re making this impossible”.

“And you’re here because?”

“I thought he might like them back?” Jessica pointed at a box on the ground. “This wasn’t meant to be so complicated”.

“What things?” You glanced at the box. “Maybe they’re better off in the rubbish”.

“Listen I don’t have time for this”. Jessica looked at her watch. “I have a shoot in an hour so .. he can bin them if he doesn’t want them. I’ve got to go”.

“I don’t know how you found my address but .. “. You struggled to stay calm. “Don’t turn up here again. I want to make that clear”.

“Sy’s Mum gave it to me”. Jessica glared at you. “And no I don’t plan on it. Sy’s a bastard and you can have him sweetie. Just remember you’re having someone’s sloppy seconds”.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY PROPERTY!” You were well aware of your neighbours peering out of their window but at that moment you didn’t care. “Sy left you for a reason you know that? He didn’t love you”.

“Is that what he told you?” Jessica glared at you but the redness in her cheeks told you that you’d hit a nerve.

“Yes he did”.

“And he’s with you because …” Jessica gestured with her hand. “Because he loves you? No sweetie. Sy doesn’t love. He fucks. I learnt that remember? He’s only with you out of obligation”.

“Keep telling yourself that you bitch! You don’t know Sy and I won’t have you saying another word about him! Leave or I’ll call the police!”

“Oh trust me I’m going. I don’t want to spend another second with you!”

You watched as Jessica marched off leaving the box at your feet. Your face was bright red and you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Bitch”. You muttered as you picked up the box and walked inside. You placed it on the kitchen counter and stared at it. Should you look inside? Was it just things like clothing? Your hands touched the edge of the box before removing the lid. Why did you feel like you were sneaking around?

You peered into the box. There were a few of Sy’s shirts, some photographs, a chain, some posters .. and then a usb drive. You picked it up.

“Probably photos?” You muttered to yourself as you walked over to your laptop and plugged it in. You opened the file labeled JessnSy and waited.

“What the fuck?” You covered your mouth with your hands as you watched Jessica appear on screen. She smirked at the camera and put her fingers up to her mouth before saying “shhhh”. She stepped back dressed in a skimpy black bra and g string before reaching behind her and holding up a bright purple dildo. She bought the object to her open mouth and licked it a few times with her eyes fixated on the camera before she wriggled out of her underwear.

Your heart raced as you watched her position herself on the bed. She got up a few times to check the camera and then finally settled onto her back with her legs spread wide. You felt your heart beat so loud against your chest as a wave of nausea hit you - yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. You watched as Jessica pushed the dildo in and out of her soaked hole while she called out for Sy.

Your eyes watered as you waited for what was to come next. Part of you knew you should turn it off now and avoid seeing Sy with her but your finger still hovered over the computer mouse.

“Oh …” You felt your cheeks grow wet as you watched Sy walk into the bedroom and start undressing. He looked different in a way - his expression was void of emotion as he fisted his rock hard erection. Your vision blurred as you watched Sy move on top of her calling her a whore. Jessica simply licked her lips and spread her legs wider as he thrusted into her roughly. His hand grabbed her neck, pinning her to the matress while he pounded into her. You could tell that he was drunk by the way that he was slurring his speech. You watched for a moment and realised he was there to just fuck her, that’s what she was to him. You almost didn’t recognize Sy because he was such an attentive lover to you. But this Sy didn’t care about giving pleasure - he was fucking her so hard and when she squirmed away from the intensity he held her hip telling her to take it. “Give me your fucking cunt”. That wasn’t your Sy. This person was a stranger. Quickly you closed the movie and stared at the blank screen.

“Sugar? I got the rings!” Sy’s voice startled you and you jumped as he came into the kitchen. “Hey you ok? It’s just me”.

“Yeah sorry …” You fumbled with the mouse and realised that Sy could see straight through you.

“Were you crying love? What’s happened?”

“Nothing”.

“Tell me”. Sy wiped your cheeks. “Don’t say nothing when it’s something”.

“Sy I .. I did something I shouldn’t have. I invaded your privacy”. You paused. “Well I’m not sure if you even knew but .. I shouldn’t have looked”.

“What are you on about? I don’t have secrets from you love. How could you invade my privacy?”

“I opened a file .. I shouldn’t have”. You pointed at the box. “Jessica dropped it off. Uh .. some of your things? And I looked at this ..” You pulled out the usb and handed it to him.

“Ok? What is it?” Sy’s eyes searched yours. “Why the fuck did she come here?”

“To create drama. It’s a .. sex tape”.

“A what?” Sy stared at you. “I never made a fucking sex tape with anyone”.

“I think she filmed you without your consent then”.

“She hid a camera?”

“Yeah”. You lowered your gaze.

“And you watched it?”

“Just a bit. I stopped when you started to ..” You paused. “I’m sorry Sy. I wanted to see what was on it but I couldn’t watch you .. you know”.

“My god”. Sy sat on the kitchen barstool. “I can’t believe .. fucking hell are you sure it was me?”

“I think you should .. watch a bit”. You paused. “That sounds so weird to say .. go watch yourself sleeping with your ex”.

“Are you sure it was me?” Sy repeated as he scratched his beard.

“Sy I’m sure!” Your hands trembled as you plugged the usb back in. “I’ll give you some space … just open the file”.

“No”. Sy grabbed your wrist. “I’m not hiding anything from you love. If this is me then I had no idea ok? Stay … I’m not watching anymore than seeing myself ok?”

“Ok”. Your cheeks burned. This was not ideal viewing with your fiancé. You moved onto Sy’s lap and put your chin on his shoulder while looking the other way. You knew Sy had opened the file snd was viewing it by the way that the muscles in his neck tensed.

“Jesus”. Sy muttered. “I can’t … I had no idea. The bitch filmed it?” Sy closed the computer and wrapped his arms around you. “Baby I’m so sorry but I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know. Fuck I can’t believe that was me. I honestly .. I must have been drinking .. I just …”

“I’m not upset. You’re completely innocent Sy. She filmed you without your consent”. You paused. “I know it was you .. but it didn’t seem like you. Well not the way you are with me”. Your cheeks burned.

“I used her love. I told you that before”. Sy paused. “She was just .. someone to fuck. Half the time I drank beforehand. She got used to getting herself off before because .. I was such a dick .. I only cared about myself”.

“You’re not that person now”.

“Because I love you”. Sy put his face in his hands. “I’m ashamed of who I was love”.

For awhile you hugged each other close until Sy broke away and motioned for you to stand up. He grabbed the usb and his car keys.

“I’ll be back”.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Your heart pounded.

“Trust me?”

“You know I do”.

“Then get ready for our trip Sugar. I’m going to deal with this ok?” Sy kissed your lips. “But you gotta trust me right now”

“Ok”. You stood on your tip toes and nuzzled into Sy’s chest. “I’m nowhere near mad at you Sy. It’s not up there with things I’d like to watch ..” You tried to joke to lighten the mood but his expression was tense. “But this was done without your knowledge. She left it here knowing either you or I would view it, it was done on purpose”.

“I know love”.

“I hate seeing you with anyone else Sy”. You whispered into his neck.”But this was wrong of her on so many levels”.

“I’ll be back soon”. Sy kissed you lips and waited until you nodded. “Just know that I can’t change my past Sugar. I wish I could right now .. I wish I was never with her. But I can’t change anything”.

“I know”. You sighed. “I love you”.

“Love you too”.

Hours ticked by and you paced around the house wondering where Sy was and what was going on. You kept checking your phone .. nothing. You assumed that he was going to see Jessica but you wondered what good that would do and whether he was simply playing into her trap.

You busied yourself making a late lunch because you planned on leaving for Vegas that evening. Grilled chicken salad it was so you started marinating the chicken while you called Amanda to fill her in on the drama.

“Are you kidding me? You are joking right?”

“Nope”. You put the phone on speaker as you started grilling the chicken.

“You watched it?”

“Not the whole thing! No way .. I couldn’t do that. But I watched enough”.

“And it was Sy?”

“Yes”. You breathed in deeply.

“Maybe it’s not what you think though .. she’s a bitch so maybe she …”

“I stopped as he started fucking her”. You said blankly, causing Amanda to gasp.

“You saw .. some of it then?”

“Yes. And just the small part I saw made me feel sick”.

“Oh honey I’m so sorry. She’s such a fucking bitch! I swear I’d pull her hair out if I came face to face with her!”

“I know you would”. You smiled. “But she’s not worth it, trust me”.

“So you think Sy’s gone to give her what for?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He left saying he’d deal with it. But that was over three hours ago”.

You chatted with Amanda some more but then cut her off when you heard Sy’s truck. You washed your hands and tried to steady your beating heart. You were beyond worried about him.

“Sy”. You rushed over to him as soon as he walked through the door. Instantly he pulled you into him. “I was so worried about you. Are you ok?”

“Yes love I’m fine”. Sy smiled softly at you. “I took the usb over to a friend of mine that works for the police. I was a bit worried about the situation affecting my reputation considering I’ll be working there soon, but he was real good about it. Turns out that it’s a crime to video anyone without their consent”.

“Oh god”. You moved away from Sy and started pacing. “So .. Jessica can be charged?”

“My friend paid her a visit, let her know the situation she was facing. She came into the station”.

“What!? Are you kidding? I mean .. Jessica was bought into a police station?”

“Yes love”. Sy paused. “She was scared out of her mind. I don’t think she realized what she’d done”.

“Did you .. get to speak with her?”

“Yeah .. she admitted to me that she was still hurt .. she wanted to get back at me”. Sy tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t think she meant for it to go that far. She just wanted it to cause issues between us I guess”.

“Now what?”

“I decided not to press charges. What I put her through was enough .. she missed her modeling shoot, police escorted her from there .. it was degrading. And I guess part of me feels like I was an asshole to her”. Sy paused. “I made it clear that I never wanted to see her again and I didn’t want her bothering you”.

“Ok”. You breathed out deeply.

“And I told her that she needed to move on because I never loved her”.

“You said it like that?”

“Yeah”. Sy breathed out deeply. “She was upset .. said she really loved me and thought I loved her at one stage. I told her I was an ass back then but I’d changed .. you changed me”.

“Sy”. Your eyes watered. “Look I completely hate her guts but .. she must have been hurt”.

“To be honest I think she still has feelings for me”. Sy paused. “I think that’s why she did all this. I’m not excusing any of it”.

“She hasn’t … made any copies you know?”

“She had one and the one she gave me. She returned the other one to the police. She was scared .. swore to the police that she was telling the truth”.

“Ok”. I shook my head. “Not that I have sympathy for her but she must have been humiliated”.

“Worst thing was her being asked into the station while she was on that photoshoot. There were a lot of people there. She told me that she’d probably never work again”.

“Well she shouldn’t have done what she did. I hope she learns from this and can change her behaviour”.

“Me too love”.

“What drama huh?” You sat down on the sofa and watched as Sy moved next to you. He motioned for you to lie against his chest and you did.

“Not how I expected the day to go”. Sy paused. “I did get our rings though .. if you still wanna marry me”.

“Of course I do!” You laughed. “It’s going to take more than an ex and her sex tape to stop me”.

“Ahhh”. Sy groaned. “I want to laugh but I just can’t right now”.

“Yeah I know … too soon huh?”

“Way too soon!”

“So you won’t be making a movie with me then?” You raised an eyebrow at Sy and smirked.

“Now with you that’s another story love .. I’m up for anything”. Sy rolled his eyes. “But maybe we put that idea on hold for a bit?”

“Deal”. You layed on his chest and ran your hand across his abs. “Want to eat then we can maybe have a rest before we head off? Amanda and Corey said they’d come over at 5 and follow us down?”

“Sounds good”. Sy kissed the top of your head as his hand stroked your baby bump. “How’s my boy?”

“Good, just hanging out in there” You smiled and rubbed your stomach.

“The good life?” Sy rested his head against your for a moment. It had been a drama filled day and you wondered if Sy was exhausted as you were.

“Sy? Are you still feeling like doing this? I mean today has been really stressful for you so I’d totally understand ..”

“Yes”.

“I mean it’s ok if you want to wait”.

“I said yes I want to marry you”. Sy smiled. “I’m not letting Jessica’s antics spoil our plans ok? Not unless you’re re thinking things?”

“Me?” You looked at Sy with wide eyes. “I’m not re thinking anything!”

“Ok then let’s get organized”. Sy paused. “You wanna marry me or not?”

“Of course I do!” You playfully punched his shoulder. “I just … I just want this to be our thing you know? No interruptions .. not even in here”. You touched your temple.

“I get it love and trust me it will be ok”. Sy kissed your forehead softly. You smiled as the course hairs on his beard brushed against your skin. “You still like the beard love?”

“I love your beard. It just tickles sometimes”.

“You just wait till you have beard burn on your thighs tonight”.

“Sy!!”

“Well you will won’t ya?” Sy laughed. “Now go get ready woman before I give you a practice run right now”.

You rolled your eyes before getting off his lap and making your way into the bedroom. You paused to look back at Sy and watched as he gathered up the box from Jessica and went into the kitchen. You smiled as you heard him emptying the contents into the trash.

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