#the gap between her performances is intriguing like what do you mean she wasn’t a musical guest in 2014/2015?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saby-chan · 3 years

Text

Fire Lord Ozai: A blood thirsty monster or the less fortunate “Zuko” of his generation?

Hello again and thank you as always for clicking and allotting some of your time to read my humble post! Since I’ve happened to notice quite an increase in posts lately regarding the controversial character and nature of the former Fire Lord, the now imprisoned fallen prince Ozai, and I’ve personally promised in my previous post that I will share my own analysis on him if people asked me to do so (which actually happened), I am here to deliver my own take on this very intriguing man’s character, while also building a potential past for him based on stuff gathered from the show’s cannon.

I would like to start this essay with what I find to be my favorite quote ever: ”Monster’s aren’t born, they are created.” ~ Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto) What I like about this quote soo much and find very inspirational is the truth it holds within its short, yet powerful message. We are often fast to judge a “book by the cover”, to reduce others to what we assume of them by their appearance or latest actions that we’ve seen them do, but never actually take a moment and wonder where they come from, if this person we soo harshly look down upon really has been this way since their very beginning?

I’ve come across many comments on social media related to ATLA, especially on YouTube videos on which people would throw with harsh comments such as “Aang being a coward for choosing to spare the villain just because they saw a dumb baby pic of them” or “Ozai is the essence of evil and even as a baby he’d been a monster”. I can’t help but wonder who hurt these people to make them be so cruel? Like, how messed up must you actually be to say that a baby, a friggin baby, is the embodiment of all evils? Or that a child was a coward for choosing to see his opponent’s last bits of humanity and opted to spare them?

Aang was soo morally conflicted about the idea of killing Ozai not only because it contradicted the morals of his people, but because he himself understood that this man hadn’t always been the cruel beast he came to met in their first and final showdown. It’s important to note here the fact that upon finding that picture, Aang was actually convinced it had to be Zuko as a baby since it looked so innocent and cute and was actually surprised to learn it was Zuko’s father. And that’s the thing, Ozai was born like us all as an innocent and sweet baby. Babies aren’t in any way evil or twisted, they don’t even have the notion of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ defined in their small, still developing minds. In fact, the very choice of the creators to add this picture in the show is meant to tell us this very thing: this man wasn’t always like this. But if he wasn’t always like this, then what happened to make him become this way?

Well, in order to find out the reason, we must go back in time to the very beginning: Ozai’s childhood and upbringing. For this next part I am going to solely focus on the show cannon, as the comics aren’t the products of BryKe and have a lot of inconsistencies to the source’s cannon (you can go and read my other post on why they fail when it comes to Zuko’s character and his family).

From what we know and can easily deduce by ourselves just from their appearances, Ozai and his brother Iroh have a huge age gap between them (somewhere between 10 and 15 years). This has to be our first red flag: isn’t it soo odd that this family opted to have their children at such a long distance between pregnancies? It almost feels as if Ozai hadn’t actually been part of his father’s actual family planning... In other words, he was a ‘mistake’ child (I actually hate having to use this terminology, but it will become relevant to when we expand on Azulon’s relationship with his sons). Sure, some may argue that Azulon actually decided to have two sons in case something were to happen to his first born, but wouldn’t it have been more logical to have his second born at 2-3 years max distance from his first? Why choose to have your second child when you are much older and thus risk having a baby with issues, if your sole purpose of this child is to serve as an insurance that you don’t ‘run out’ of heirs? It just doesn’t make much sense, so let’s go for the moment with the possibility that Ozai was an unplanned pregnancy.

This perspective actually gives way to another very interesting aspect: remember the infamous “Born lucky...Lucky to be born” quote? What if I tell you that there is a possibility that this quote wasn’t Ozai’s personal wicked invention, but actually something he himself heard from his very own father? It had been puzzling me for a long time why he choose to say “You were lucky to be born” to Zuko, which implies that Zuko wasn’t supposed to exist. I mean, it’s soo odd that Ozai went with something implying that Zuko was an unplanned pregnancy, since Zuko was the first born. So my theory is that maybe Ozai wanted to convey a different message to Zuko when he said that quote, but due to his anger he ended up replicating the same line he received from Azulon at some point in his childhood. We never got the exact flashback when the line was delivered from Ozai to Zuko, so we don’t have the exact context that lead to it (remember, we are excluding Yang’s take on the matter from the comics).

I mean, this feels like something that wicked old Azulon would have said to his least favorite child. Okay, so let’s go with the scenario that Ozai was an unwanted child, to which we could also add the possibility that Ilah’s health deteriorated after the first birth, which makes plausible the family’s initial decision of stopping at 1 kid.

Moving on, we know from the old ATLA character wiki’s that Ozai’s character design was made with Zuko in mind, being meant to be a grown up version of Zuzu, without the scar. An interesting choice indeed and even Iroh’s letter to Zuko on Ozai from one of the ATLA books describes Ozzy in a similar way to teenage Zuko in book 1: stubborn, feisty, determined and with a volcanic personality (easy to anger and competitive), so it means that these were intentional choices to imply that Zuko and his father are more similar than we were led to believe at first glance. Maybe Ozai was the “Zuko” of his generation. Also, in one of the interviews on the royal family, BryKe stated that Ozai worked very hard to get where he is in book 3, referring to his firebending specifically (we all know how Ozzy got the throne, so clearly, he didn’t “work hard” for that), so maybe he wasn’t always the strongest man alive, with the most exceptional firebending skills out there, like Azula who showed ease in her learning, but rather someone closer to Zuko’s weaker performance as a child, building his way to success through endless hard work until he became the prodigy we know today.

Continuing with our theoretical scenario, after his birth, the second child show’s lesser skills compared to his brother Iroh (by that I don’t mean that he wasn’t gifted at all, but that maybe Ozai wasn’t as fast and great of a learner like his big bro), so Azulon opts to just ignore him and continue focusing solely on his golden child. In my headcannon I actually think that Ilah survived the birth and so she was left in charge of the younger child’s education and upbringing. At this point Iroh is already 10 or older, so he is forced to focus on his development, which prevents him from spending time with his lil brother, but just for the sake of being positive, let’s assume that Ozai still had both his mother and his big brother to keep him sheltered from Azulon’s darkness for a small portion of his childhood.

I choose to believe that Ozai had his mother’s love for a small bit of his childhood due to his willingness in the show to allow Ursa (who mind you, as the granddaughter of Roku was considered a treacherous individual) to spend a ton of time with both Zuko and Azula and share her philosophy with the children, as seeing his wife playing with their children probably reminded him of his own bitter-sweet memories he had with Ilah. They also probably spent a lot of their time near the turtle-duck pond since that pond’s existence prolly dates long before Ozai and Ursa married and had their own children.

Unfortunately, Ilah dies and little Ozai remains all alone, to be influenced negatively by his father (and even by his grandpa Sozin, we don’t really know for certain when the old man died, so he prolly was there for a short time when Ozzy was still a child). Azulon most likely blames Ozai for his wife’s death as the second birth might’ve really had a huge toll on Ilah’s already fragile body, bringing her closer to death, so he still neglects and ignores the child, if not straight out bullies and abuses him for not being on par with Iroh. This prolly leads to Ozai becoming jealous of his brother since Iroh has their father’s love, pushing them further apart. I headcannon that this jealousy between the siblings led to Ozai complaining to his dad when he finally had too much of their father’s discrimination (at a similar age to when Zuko prolly did and got the infamous line, if not younger) only to get the “Iroh was born lucky, you were lucky to be born!” line with the sole purpose of hurting him since now the child knows that he was never wanted.

When Azulon scolds very furiously adult Ozai in Zuko’s memories for daring to ask to be named crown prince, he literally says something like “What, you dare ask me to betray MY own son?!” (this is like red flag number two), line that pretty much testifies how Azulon chose to pretty much treat Ozai as if he wasn’t his son too, showcasing how much he despised his second born and favored the first child over him. Since we are on the topic of their last conversation, the punishment Azulon gave to his son alone proves this man’s level of sadism, which leads me to be believe that Ozai’s childhood was full of this type of punishments for bad behaviors that could be easily corrected trough a long serious lecture or a lesser punishment focused more on teaching him an actual lesson.

The old wikis also mention on the page about the hall with portraits of the previous Fire Lords that it was the place where Ozai chose to spend most of his time in his youth, seeking advice from his ancestors. I mean, seriously now, if he had a good and supportive father and a present brother in his life, would Ozai had chosen to seek guidance from the dead instead of his living family? That piece of information that was easily overlooked by many proves how lonely this man was in his youth.

So for the most part of his life, Ozai grew up under the toxic influence and abuse of his tyrant father who refused to acknowledge him. Yet he managed to grow up still full of determination to one day prove his worth to Azulon and gain his acceptance (just like we saw with Zuko in book 1, who was desperate to regain his honor and be accepted by his father). But unfortunately, no matter how strong he became or how good of a firebender he was, Azulon was unmoved and unphased by his second son’s performance.

From what we could gather from the little info we received in the show, it seems that Ozai was never sent to the battle field to aid his older brother, being kept as a stay home prince, with the only occasion he actually left home being to search for the Avatar (I don’t think Iroh was sent to do his part on searching the Avatar since he strongly believed that there wasn’t going to ever be one, so it’s safe to assume Azulon assigned Ozai with this mission just to get rid of him for a few years) and the only purpose he ever served to his father was to become part of the old man’s genetics experiment in order to create strong unparalleled firebending offspring (which I am pretty sure were meant to be ‘biological war machines’ used by Azulon in the war, as he didn’t really seem to give a shit about Ozai’s children compared to Lu Ten). So just imagine the level of disappointment and dishonor Ozai must’ve felt as a man and young aspiring soldier to find out that he was going to be used like a ‘non-bending daughter’ in a strategical marriage and never get to serve his country in what he’d been taught was the greatest and most important war for their Nation.

All in all, this marriage didn’t really end up that badly because it seems he and Ursa were actually very compatible. The old wiki for Ursa states that she was a noble woman and the perfect match for Ozai, which leads me to believe that show Ursa was intended to be a very strong willed and determined woman who earned his respect. The show never stated that Ozai never wanted his first born or that he was disappointed with Zuko from birth like the comics say, so it’s safe to assume that Ursa and Ozai actually ended up falling in love at some point since they had not one, but two kids with relatively a short time in between pregnancies.

There are actually many signs in the show that actually prove that these two loved each other and Ozai didn’t abuse his wife: from the fact that they went every year to see Ursa’s favorite play despite Ozai hating the poor performance of the Ember Island Players (I mean, what man would do such a sacrifice as to endure the same torture every single year just to make his wife happy if he never loved her?), Ursa’s undeniable and sincere love for their children (in the show it was never stated that Ursa saw Zuko and Azula as someone else’s children, so if she were indeed an abused woman who was forced to have these children, she wouldn’t have ever loved them to such an extent, especially Zuko who resembled his father the most physically), the fact that Ursa had equal rights in their marriage and raising of their children (her even scolding and grounding Ozai’s favorite child without hesitation), to the most significant scene to the Urzai ship in Zuko’s flashbacks: Ozai sitting troubled all alone in Ursa’s favorite spot by the pond, in a sad and brooding atmosphere, after he lost her, instead of celebrating what had to be the happiest day of his life since he was finally crowned Fire Lord (it’s clear who had more importance in his heart: Ursa meant more to him than the throne, so losing her outshined his achievement). In fact, Ursa must’ve been the only thing that still kept him outside of the darkness that threatened to swallow his heart and once he lost her, Ozai had nothing else to keep him on the right path.

And even as a father, it seems that Ozai wasn’t always cold and distant to his children, as his true self depicted in Zuko’s memories on Ember Island shows him caring for both of his children, even holding Zuko close to him with a protective arm on the boy’s shoulder. Except the Agni Kai, there don’t seem to be any instances in which he was physically violent towards his son before the banishment (Iroh literally let Zuko in to join that faithful war meeting willingly. Would’ve he done that if he knew his brother to be very violent towards his children in case they disobeyed? If yes, then it would make Iroh actually very questionable on a moral standpoint) and even on an emotional level, I don’t really think that he was actually abusive to him (at least while Ursa was there) because from Zuko’s conversation with Zhao, he’s adamant that his father will take him back and even states "You don't know how my father feels about me. You don't know anything!", meaning that the father he used to know showed him a level of respect and genuine affection (if Ozai were to bully Zuko since the boy’s very early childhood, do you think this kid would grow up to be so sure that his father wants him around and would he defend this bully when someone badmouths them in front of him?).

Even with Azula, despite people demonizing her from early childhood and saying that she was manipulated since birth by Ozai to become a war machine, I do believe that she shows genuine love and affection towards her father. I do choose to believe that back in the good times when the family was happy, Ozai spent quality time with his daughter, filling in the gap left by Ursa’s neglect. I theorize that the reason why kid Azula badmouthed her grandpa and uncle was because she was being very protective of her father: since she used to like spying and eavesdropping, it’s safe to assume that she prolly witnessed many instances in which the old man bullied or insulted Ozai, favoring Iroh over him. It’s a bit harder to see it that way since her snarky comments involve dark topics, but since they live in a society governed by power and war, I see them as something similar to if Azula would’ve said “Uncle sucks and he will surely be fired from his job!” or “Grandpa is old and weak, he should leave the family business to dad!”. Even the fact that the only thing capable of shattering her to pieces was her father leaving her proves how much she cared for him. Ty Lee and Mai’s betrayal was a big blow on Azula’s control and sanity, but she didn’t breakdown until Ozai discarded her after his coronation as Phoenix King. There’s nothing more painful in this world than to be left behind by the person you loved the most and was there by your side your whole life, whom you wanted to follow to world’s end and back. That was the moment Azula finally realized that the father she used to know and love was actually gone and had been in fact, long gone for years at this point.

But if Ozai cared for his family what made him change? Easy, it all comes back to the fact that his father never acknowledged him. The throne doesn’t seem to be his ultimate goal in life since Ozai discarded of the Fire Lord title very easily, tossing it to Azula without any remorse or hesitation. It was more about the meaning behind getting the crown: replacing Iroh in the line of succession was the ultimate proof of his father’s acceptance, that he wasn’t only a “mistake” and “failure” in his father’s eyes, but since Azulon ended up saying and doing what he did, backfired Ozai and made him understand that no matter how hard he tried, the old man will never see him for what he is. So yeah, for a proud man like Ozai this was a hard defeat to swallow, which in turn sparked his strong desire of winning the war and becoming the king of the world: if Azulon wouldn’t accept him even in death, then Ozai will prove to the whole world that he was above his father and his “perfect” brother by accomplishing what they never could and even better and no one was going to stop him, not even his own family.

This is what differentiates Ozai from Zuko: while both had similar upbringings, Ozai never broke away from his obsession of gaining his father’s admiration, allowing himself to fall prey to the darkness left by Azulon in his heart and abandon his true self, only to become the copy of his abuser, while Zuko stood up to his dad and chose his own destiny. If Aang were to come back around 20 or 30 years earlier, then he might’ve actually been able to save Ozai just like he saved Zuko, but unfortunately it wasn’t this way.

Do I think that Ozai could still be saved and redeemed even after the events of book 3? Definitely! Since he’s actually a broken man and still has a tiny bit of humanity left within, I think he still has a chance to change his heart. The only thing is that it’d be a long lasting process: first off he needs to spend a long time in solitude and reflect on his life’s choices and his past, understand where he went wrong and that what happened to him in his childhood is called abuse, which he ended up replicating on his own children. After he understands his wrongdoings and becomes willing to rediscover his true self, he needs to understand the truth about the war, that everything he’d known was fake propaganda and that there was nothing glorious in what he, his father and Sozin did under the excuse of “sharing their Nation’s greatness with the rest of the world!”. But most importantly of all, the only remedy that could possibly save him is love. It sound cliche, but by responding to hatred with more hate like Zuko did in the comics would never change the world “for the better” or bring it “to reality”. The only way to save both Azula and Ozai would be trough showing them the power of love, hope and empathy, how they don’t have to struggle alone and push everyone away. And especially by redeeming Azula, she would be a very important piece in Ozai’s redemption: since he had a closer parent-child relationship with Azula and cared for her the most when he did care, realizing how much he made her suffer through his actions, that would probably break Ozai enough to make him admit that he was wrong all along.

So yeah, this is my analysis on Ozai’s character using the cannon information from the show and old wikis and why I think he is just the product of a very bad environment and an abusive parent who never showed him love (if there’s a reason for why Ozai might be uncapable of showing a healthy parental love to his children is because you can’t show what you’ve never learnt yourself), being the Zuko of his generation who never got to experience the positive influence of an “Uncle Iroh” to guide him on the right path.

You can agree with me or not on this one, but this is what I choose to believe. Maybe I am way too good by choosing to see any potential good in anyone, but I feel it’s a better way than to counter hate with more hate like Yang did in his monstrous portrayal of Ozai in The Search.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and if you agree with anything I’ve said, feel free to leave a like and to reblog this post.

See you next time and stay safe! Bye-Bye!

Saby out.

#atla #atla rant #avatar the last airbender #ozai #azulon #ursa #zuko #azula

33 notes · View notes

inliar · 3 years

Text

timing

word count: 5.3k

jinhwan x reader

you have the uncanny knack of running into kim jinhwan exactly when he needs it. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.

a/n: support ikon on kingdom!

the first time you meet him, it’s at your friend’s debut stage. once upon a time, you and your friend, yerin, had been trainees together in a decently small company. but while her skills only grew over time, morphing into something fascinating and breathtaking that deserved to be shown to the world, yours had stagnated. it wasn’t for lack of effort – you had put just as many hours into dance and vocal lessons as the others – but it was, probably, for lack of passion.

at some point, you had stopped emphasizing with your fellow trainee’s heartfelt speeches on their dreams of debuting, and it was around then that you realized you weren’t meant to be an idol in the same way they were. it was alright, though, because if anyone out of the two of you deserved to debut, it was her. you’d never felt any regret after terminating your short trainee agreement with your label.

but your friendship had never ceased, and you’d kept in regular contact with yerin, as well as the other trainees set to debut in the rookie group. you often took to reminding them to eat their meals, or to take breaks in between lessons, because you’d experienced first-hand how thoroughly unchecked passions can blind a person to their obvious needs.

finally, their efforts had culminated into a debut, and you wouldn’t miss their first stage for the world. their manager, minseo (who, in a different timeline, might have been your manager as well) was kind enough to let you visit them face-to-face in their waiting room for the music program.

“nervous?” you ask, taking in yerin’s brightly-coloured romper and her bleached, curled, strands of hair. it’s such a far departure from the tracksuits and messy ponytail you’d often seen her sporting during early morning dance practices, but it somehow suits her better than anything else you’d ever seen her wear.

“excited.” she responds instead, with a frightening degree of certainty. it must be nice, you think, to have something you want so desperately and unfalteringly. but watching your best friend get to live out her dreams is almost just as nice.

you nod, feeling the corners of your lips quirk up. “have i ever told you how proud i am of you?” you say, lightheartedly, suppressing the urge to ruffle your hand over her well-styled hair.

“no, but since it’s coming from you, i know you mean it.” she says with such sincerity that you feel an unexpected surge of pride lodge itself into your chest.

you clear your throat. this won’t do. she hasn’t even performed yet and you’re already turning into a sentimental mess. “i’m going to go get myself something to drink,” you say, excusing yourself. “do you want anything?”

her eyes brighten. “ooh, can i have an orange soda?” she asks, before pausing and turning around. “wait, manager-nim, am i allowed to drink soda before a stage?”

minseo tears her eyes away from her phone and straightens up. “as long as it’s not something that will rapidly stain your teeth, it should be fine. are you thirsty? do you need me to get you something?”

you pipe up. “oh, it’s fine, i can get it. you should stay with the group, unni, you’re the manager.” then, you raise your voice and direct it towards the rest of the girls. “hey, guys, i’m getting yerin a drink from the vending machine. does anyone else want anything?”

“oh, can i have a canned coffee?” you hear one of the members – jiyoung’s – voice ask.

“me too!” hyemin’s voice adds.

“vitamin water, please!” mirae’s voice calls.

you tally the drinks up in your head. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you hold up an ‘okay’ sign with your hand and nod. jiyoung jokingly salutes in return.

“can i pay you back?” minseo offers, pulling out a credit card that most definitely won’t work on the rickety vending machines you’d seen on your way to the waiting room.

you shake your head dismissively. “it’s just a couple of drinks, and besides, i have a ton of coins i need to get rid of. you can buy me a meal later, yeah?” you offer, and minseo nods. “at this rate, i’ll have to hire you as my assistant.” she jokes, lightheartedly, and you smile. you wouldn’t mind that at all.

you recite the list of drinks to yourself as you make it out of their waiting room and towards the vending machine. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two ca—

thud.

the small sound shakes you out of your mantra and, instinctively, you turn towards the noise. judging by the obvious frustration radiating from the person in front of you and his relative position to the vending machine, you figure he just kicked the poor thing.

“are you alright?” you ask, tentatively, and the person in question turns to face you.

oh. it’s kim jinhwan. from ikon.

you try your hardest to suppress a smile. yerin loves ikon. she’d be so jealous to know that you ran into one of the members today, and in such an innocuous way at that.

“yes, sorry.” jinhwan offers, looking almost sheepish. “the machine stole my money, and-”

almost on cue, you hear a voice call out in the distance. “hurry up, hyung! you said it’d only take a few minutes!”

jinhwan’s expression instantly sours, and you nod in understanding. “what did you try to get, sunbaenim?” you ask politely, turning towards the machine and scanning its contents.

“just an energy drink. but i guess i’ll be fine without it.” he explains, trying a little too hard to sound lighthearted and unbothered.

you identify the drink in question and punch in its code. after feeding your coins into the machine, you watch as the suddenly functional appliance pushes the energy drink out of its row and into the bottom of the machine.

squatting, you grab the drink and hold it out. “please, take this.” you offer as you stand up, suddenly noticing how heavily the foundation under his eyes is applied. you inwardly frown. he must really need the boost. “it’s the one you wanted, right?”

he doesn’t take it, instead opting to stare at it instead. “i couldn’t, i don’t have any more change on me right now.” he says, despite eyeing the drink longingly.

“hyung! we have to go!” the voice from before calls out again, insistently. he turns towards the voice before turning back to you, conflicted. you put on what you hope is a reassuring smile before pushing the drink with a little more force into his hands. instinctively, he takes it.

“please don’t worry about it, it’s just a drink. good luck with your stage, sunbaenim!” you cheer, gently.

he looks at the drink, then looks at you, then glances behind him at what you presume to be his waiting room before looking at you again.

“jinhwan hyung!” the voice demands with an intimidating undercurrent of finality, leaving no more room to stall. you tilt your head towards it meaningfully.

“i.. thank you.” he finally says, tightly, before turning around and running away. satisfied, you turn towards the vending machine. what did your friends ask for? right, two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you punch the drink codes in, methodically inserting all of your loose change you had been trying to get rid of for so long, and add an extra coffee in for minseo for good measure. if she’s going to make good on her dinner promise, and you know she will, she should get a little something in return.

(you would have gotten her something even if you didn't coerce her into buying you food. a part of you thrives at the feeling of taking care of others, and you dimly wonder if that means anything.)

the next time you meet him is yet another case of being in the right place at the right time, for lack of a better phrase.

you’d spent a good portion of your school days active as a trainee. so, when you’d eventually exited the entertainment industry, you were strikingly behind all the other students your age in the cruelly competitive system that was korea’s education system. you were planning on taking a gap year to figure out exactly what you wanted to do with the rest of your life (which was generally frowned upon, as students were expected to naturally know these things), but minseo had saved you from that fate. “since the girls have been getting a little bigger recently, i’ve been given the permission and the budget to hire an assistant manager.” she had explained through a spontaneous phone call, her voice crackling over the receiver as you shifted your cellphone to your other ear. “if i can trust anyone to care for them the way that i do, it’s you.”

“will it be okay?” you had asked, not against the proposition but not wanting to get her in trouble. “i have no managerial experience, and i’m in the same age range as the members. i don’t want the company to come off as unprofessional.”

she had reassured you that you wouldn’t be working on anything that she wouldn’t teach you to do first, and that, as long as you didn’t boast about your age, it would be fine. “i was allowed to write the hiring criteria, and if you just happen to be the perfect candidate, then so be it.” she had said, and you could almost imagine the conspiratorial wink she would have shot in your direction if you were talking face to face.

and so your reentrance to the entertainment industry had begun; except this time, you were on the other, more secluded, side of the stage. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered being a manager before; you’ve always been the type to take care of others, and when minseo had joked about taking you on as an assistant before, a secret part of you had taken it a little too close to heart. but you had never actually expected her words to become a reality.

the job isn’t too hard to pick up. you’re assigned a lot of small yet useful tasks, like calling the salons and confirming hair appointment times, or writing the minutes for meetings about comeback concepts. sometimes, your only role for the day is simply coaxing minseo unni into stopping and taking a lunch break. you’re busy, for sure, but not yet at the juggling-octopus level of the senior manager, who is somehow able to coordinate every other task and responsibility that involves the group simultaneously and all without fail. while you just have to confirm the things she’s already set up, she has to do all the preparation work. you’ve seen her meticulously arrange and assign each member’s schedules, all the while keeping an eye on album sales and concert venues and security payroll and feedback from their vocal or dance instructors. just by looking at her essay of a to-do list that’s propped up on her desk, you understand why the company gave her the permission to hire an assistant.

the most important responsibility she had given you, however, was to be the first line of contact with the members of the group. “you know them better than i do, so i think you’d do a better job of helping them out. they’re not too fussy, so it shouldn’t be too hard to work with them? just keep an eye on the members, and check on them every now and then. of course, let me know if you need any extra help.” a very harried minseo had told you, while on hold with the videography company who, annoyingly, hadn’t confirmed what time they were coming in tomorrow to film the dance video for the group’s upcoming comeback.

“yes, of course.” you had replied, fully intending to not do just that. you were going to avoid adding any responsibilities to minseo unni’s workload at all costs.

there wasn’t much that you needed to do. occasionally, you needed to get the members drinks or snacks while they were in their waiting rooms before music show performances, or make sure that they checked in with you before they went out anywhere. to help with this, you had gotten into the habit of carrying a backpack with you at all times, fully stocked with the necessities: an assortment of the member’s favourite snacks, an epipen for hyemin’s peanut allergy tucked in a small first aid kit, extra hair elastics, pads and tampons, and various sets of phone chargers.

“you’re already, like, one of those overprepared asian mothers that carries everything in her massive purse, and you’re barely an adult.” yerin had snickered one day while you reorganized your bag in their dorm.

you had grinned, teasingly pushing her away. “it’s this overprepared asian mother that has your precious pocky at hand, so watch it.” you’d warned, shaking the snack box in the air.

“don’t shake it!” yerin had yelped, cradling the cookie sticks protectively against her chest. “you’ll break them.”

it was the last week of promotions for the group’s third mini album, and you had just finished supervising the stage hands as they finished setting up the stage. satisfied, you grab your backpack from the chair it was lounging on, thank them for their hard work, and beeline for the exit, wondering if you can run into the girls before they get called down for their pre-stage interview.

“—ust going to have to wait, we don’t have any on hand right now.” you hear a gruff sounding voice say, and subconsciously, you look towards the source of the noise.

just across the hallway from you is what appears to be a very tall manager and a very short idol, judging from the casual apparel the taller is wearing and the shiny, glittery jacket the shorter one has on. the one in the glittery jacket is clutching at his shoulder in obvious discomfort.

“how long do you think it will take?” the shorter asks, letting go of his shoulder and rolling it back, and you’d recognize that voice anywhere. yerin had recently been studying his stage habits by watching his fancams on repeat, and at this point, his voice was engraved in the back of your mind. it’s jinhwan, again. (“i can’t believe you got to meet jinhwan sunbae before i did,” yerin had pouted when you had told her about your previous encounter. “but why did you call him sunbae? he’s not technically your senior anymore.”

“so i used to be a trainee, and old habits die hard. sue me.” you had defended yourself, protectively, before making a mental note to stop doing that.)

“i’m not sure. i’m not supposed to leave the shooting site, and no one else has answered my calls yet. do you think you’ll be able to do the stage without a patch?” the manager asks.

the idol who you now recognize as jinhwan winces, and you take that as your cue to dig through your bag. after finding what you’re looking for, you take a nervous breath and walk towards the pair.

“hello,” you greet tentatively, bowing. the two of them turn to face you, and politely bow back. you don’t miss the way jinhwan’s face grimaces ever so slightly as he does so.

“i’m really sorry if i’m being invasive, but i happened to hear what was going on.” you start. at that, you offer him the pair of pain-relief patches you were clutching securely with both of your hands. “please, take these.”

the two of them pause, taking a second to read the upside-down text on the packaging. in hindsight, you probably should have held it so the text was facing them. “won’t you need them?” the manager asks, eventually looking back up at you.

you shake your head in denial, eyes wide. “no, no. i always have extras in my bag. besides, the ones my members use most often are the ankle patches, so i won’t miss these.” you explain, taking a short, meaningful glance at jinhwan’s shoulder before pushing the packages into his manager’s hands.

he takes them. “thank you,” he says, gratefully, and you smile.

“yes, of course.” you reply, taking another quick glance at jinhwan. he’s staring at you, expression carefully blank, but, upon making eye contact. he bows his head. “thank you,” he says as well, and you pause. there’s something in his tone that sounds off, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

you don’t have time to stand there and think about it, though, because your group is going to get called down for their interview any minute now. and while you don’t technically have to be there, minseo said that it would be a good idea for you to monitor them. “just so you can get used to your job,” she had said, and you agreed. it would be entirely selfish to back out on that now, just to stand and meaninglessly analyze a person you had no connections with.

“i … have to go now.” you begin, tentatively, ignoring the pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach thats begging you to stay and figure out what feels so wrong. “good luck on your stage, sunb- i mean! jinhwan-ssi, and i hope your shoulder feels better.”

you bow, reflexively, trying your best not to make a weird face out of embarrassment, and jinhwan bows back. “thank you, again.” he reiterates, and you turn to leave.

it’s only after you’re absolutely sure that you’re out of their line of view before you let yourself cringe. sunbae? you tried to call him sunbae? you really, really, need to get out of that habit. what kind of interaction was that?

‘but is he okay?’ a smaller, more insistent, voice in the back of your head asks, and you frown. you don’t know.

in between your last memorable encounter and the next one, you see him a few times. your group passes by him in a few music programs, you run into their group at a hair appointment, and a few other miscellaneous encounters as such naturally occur. but you never interact. as a manager, it’s not your job to play buddy-buddy with other idol groups, especially if they’re not even in your company. you’ve always done a very good job of staying out of the spotlight, and, as a manager, most people don’t spare you a glance. jinhwan doesn’t even look in your direction.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed.

the third time you meet him is not, for once, at a music program. you’re in hapjeong-dong, meaning to visit a friend who’d recently moved into the area. but she’d last-minute changed her housewarming party time to a dinner party instead of a lunch meetup. by the time you’d got the memo, you were already halfway across seoul on the subway. since you hadn’t eaten anything yet, and you no longer had lunch plans, your first stop is at the first ramen shop you see after you exit the terminal.

“i’m afraid we’re a little full at the moment, ma’am, and the only seats available are at the counter. will that be alright?” the hostess asks, smiling warmly.

“yes, that’s great.” you say, and you let her escort you to the counter and hand you a menu. you prop up your purse and your housewarming gift on the chair next to you before taking it, thanking her.

as you’re flipping through the menu, mentally calculating how much more you’ll be able to spend this month, you hear the tinkling of the bell at the front door signalling another customer. a cursory glance around the relatively full counter area lets you know that there’s only one seat left, and you’re hogging it with your bags. you quickly take them off the only available chair and bend down to set them on the ground below your feet.

“... and here you go, sir, i’ll be back with a menu shortly.” the bubbly hostess says, smiling politely at the customer whose face you haven’t seen yet. you straighten up, taking a quick look at the hostess and the customer before turning back to look at your menu.

“yes, thank you,” the customer says, and you freeze. you must be hearing things. there is no way that you are eating lunch next to kim jinhwan in a random restaurant.

the customer sits down next to you, and you shoot another quick look at the man who is taking off his mask. who is most definitely kim jinhwan.

do you … do you say anything? idols deserve to eat in peace, so should you pretend not to recognize him? but won’t sitting in a stony, awkward silence as you eat next to each other be even worse? you contemplate burying yourself in your phone for the entire meal, before realizing that you left it in your purse. and there’s no feasible way that you can grab it without having to scoot back your chair, get off the stool to open your bag, and sit back up on it again.

unfortunately for you, he looks in your direction as you’re gaping at him, panic-struck. the resulting eye contact is unbearably awkward on your end, but he looks at you as if he’s trying to remember who you are.

“pardon me, but are you the one who … with the pain-relief patch?” he asks, gesturing slightly with his hands as he sits dodwn. it’s vague and awkward, and if he did that to anyone else they’d be very confused, but you know exactly what he means.

you blush a little. there’s nothing else you can say now. “yes, uh, i think that was me.”

“and … the vending machine?” he ventures.

your eyes widen a little at that. that was so many months ago. he still remembers? “the energy drink, right? that was also me. hello, jinhwan-ssi.” you offer, tentatively, bowing your head slightly. at this point, there’s no use pretending you don’t know his name. he bows his head in return.

“may i ask for your name?” jinhwan asks, tentatively.

“oh, ah, i’m ______.” you respond. “it’s nice to meet you, officially.”

jinhwan nods in agreement, seemingly taking in all the new information for a few seconds. after a short pause, he continues. “do you also work in the entertainment industry?” he asks, slowly.

“yes, i’m an assistant manager for kyubie, a new girlgroup at AB entertainment,” you introduce yourself. it still feels a little strange to say that title out loud. assistant manager. you’re an assistant manager.

“ah, i see.” jinhwan says, smiling a little as he processes the information, and you politely smile back. a part of you wants to help him carry this conversation out, but the other, more dominant part of you is just as socially awkward as he looks like he feels and is absolutely incapable of doing such a thing.

“you look quite young for a manager,” he offers, as an odd semblance of a compliment, and you take it in stride.

“i get that a lot! i actually used to be a trainee at AB, but i ended up becoming a manager inst!—ead …” you start, mouth running itself as it struggles to fill the awkward silence, before you register what you just said.

“i, uh, i wasn’t supposed to say that.” you mutter, loudly enough so its audible but quietly enough to express your regret.

jinhwan, for what it’s worth, only looks placidly amused. “don’t worry, i won’t say a word,” he assures you. he doesn’t ask for any more details or for an elaboration on why it would be a secret. you’re grateful for that.

“thank you,” you say, trying not to let the relief show itself too heavily in your tone. if he notices it, he doesn’t say a word.

“i should be thanking you. for the drink and for the pain-relief patches, before. i don’t think i could have done my stage without either.” he assures you, kindly. “i didn’t get to thank you properly before.”

you shake your head in denial. “no, no, don’t worry about it. i get what it’s like to always be running low on time. and you did say thank you! i didn’t feel underappreciated, or ignored, or anything like that.” you explain, letting out your first real smile since the beginning of the conversation.

(you miss the way his eyes linger on it for a beat too long.)

“i’m glad that you think that, then,” jinhwan says, faintly, as the hostess comes back with his menu that he barely even scans before ordering. you, too, order, ignoring the meaningful glances she’s throwing at the two of you. that’s a misunderstanding that can be resolved in the unlikely chance it becomes an issue.

“so,” jinhwan starts, “tell me about your group.”

and you’re gone.

conversation flows surprisingly easily once the two of you find your common ground. as a manager and as a friend, you have a lot to tell him about your members and how they act. “one of them, my friend, actually, she’s a really big fan of yours.” you mention, offhandedly. you’ve gone long past the point where you’re trying to filter yourself.

“is that so?” he asks, calmly, and you grin.

“yeah. she was really jealous when i told her that i met you before,” you laugh, “and she’ll probably be a little bit jealous that i met you again today.”

“what about you?” he asks, and then looks a little bit startled. almost as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“i’m sorry?” you ask, despite knowing perfectly well what he’d meant to say. you do your best to not blush.

jinhwan, having seemingly decided to just go with it, smiles. “are you a fan of mine, too?” he asks, and oh, your cheeks are not supposed to feel this hot.

“i, uh—” you flounder, trying to think of a way to answer this professionally, before a strangely brave crevice of your mind tells you to be honest.

“before? i don’t know. but now? probably.” you admit, which is good enough for jinhwan.

he doesn’t push it (probably because you looked like a tomato just then and he wants to save your blood pressure), and instead steers the conversation back to your life as a manager and his funny anecdotes in the entertainment industry. for someone who is so soft spoken and looked so thoroughly awkward when you first met, he tries incredibly hard to keep the conversation flowing and comfortable. you’re half in awe at his easy going nature.

you eat slowly once you get your food, selfishly wanting the conversation to last longer, but eventually there are no more noodles left in your plate and half of the lunchtime rush has already cleared out. jinhwan excuses himself to pay, asking you to watch his jacket, and you grab your purse and your housewarming gift from the floor while you wait. your phone tells you that it’s been nearly two hours since you entered the restaurant, and you must have suddenly forgotten how to read time, because there’s no possible way you had spent that long talking with jinhwan.

he eventually comes back. he puts his mask on and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, and you take that as your cue to head to the payment counter. “i’m here to pay for my order,” you say, pulling out your wallet, and the checkout man shakes his head.

“you’re already paid for,” he explains, and you frown. “pardon me?” you ask, unsure if you heard him right.

“the gentleman who sat next to you has already paid for your meal,” he clarifies, and you stand there for a moment.

“are— are you sure?” you ask, confusedly. the checkout man nods. “here’s the purchase receipt if you want to be sure.”

the sound of the front door bell tinkling draws your attention, and you turn to see jinhwan’s figure leave the shop. “thank you!” you exclaim hurriedly to the counter, mindlessly stuffing the receipt in your left pocket before booking it out of there.

by the time you get to the outside of the shop, jinhwan is a good ten meters away. “jinh—!” you start, and then stop. yelling an idol’s name in public is most definitely not a good idea.

you’ve never been the most active, but you run after him anyway. thankfully, he’s not making an effort to run away from you, because you wouldn’t be able to catch up with him then.

eventually, you catch up with him as he’s waiting for a pedestrian walkway to turn green. “jinhwan-ssi!” you call, furtively, and the man in question turns around to face you.

" ______.” he says, curiously. “what are you doing here?”

“you paid for my meal.” you state, and he looks at you like it’s obvious.

“yes, i did.” he says, frowning a little. the pedestrian walkway turns green. he doesn’t make any effort to move.

“can i pay you back?” you ask, hand instinctively going towards your wallet in your right pocket.

he laughs a little at that. “why would you pay me back? this is my thank you for the favours you did for me.”

“you don’t have to pay me back! i did those things because i could. besides, a vending machine drink and a pain-relief patch costs much less than a meal.” you argue.

“then, consider it like i’m doing this because i can.” he counters, and its very hard to object to your own logic.

“can i at least buy you coffee or something as thanks?” you ask, as the pedestrian walkway turns red once more.

at this, jinhwan pauses, before he sighs. “i have vocal practice in half an hour, so i can’t right now. but—” he continues, seeing the look of disappointment you already knew was on your face, “did you get the receipt from the checkout guy?”

“the what?” you ask, confused.

his face pales. “oh no, did you not take it?” he asks, suddenly looking scared, and you remember mindlessly snatching the receipt from the checkout man’s hands. you clumsily pat through your pockets a little before pulling a slip of paper out from your left pocket. “no, i have it,” you say, holding it up, “but why?”

jinhwan sighs. “turn it over,” he says, and you do.

in pen, a phone number is scribbled over the back of the receipt. “jinhwan,” it says in neatly printed letters next to it, and you fight back the urge to smile. you probably do a terrible job of it, too.

“text me when you’re free, and we can do coffee sometime, yeah?” jinhwan offers. you can’t see his face well because of his mask, but the tips of his ears are red. it’s stupidly endearing.

“i will,” you promise, because how could you say no to that?

the walkway light turns green once again. jinhwan waves as he crosses the street, and you wave as you stay behind. its only after you’re absolutely, positively sure that he’s out of sight that you let yourself grin, burying your too-hot face into your hands.

if you just played your cards right, you have a date with kim jinhwan.

(you text him the very same day, and make plans for coffee the next week.

you treat him to crepe cakes and lattes, and he pouts, claiming that the crepes were too much and now he just has to take you out to make up for it.

before you can tell him that no, it’s fine, it’s your treat, he has movie tickets for two booked and emailed to your account.

you agree to go, but only if you get to buy the popcorn.)

#ikon #jinhwan #kim jinhwan #jay #ikon jinhwan #ikon jay #ikon fanfic #jinhwan fanfic #jinhwan x reader #writing

59 notes · View notes

moonlights-inkwell · 3 years

Text

I’m Weak, My Love (And I am Wanting)

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,525

Summary: After a night of drinking, you dance with a stranger. Jaskier is jealous. Jealous enough to do something extreme

A/N: Two Fics in one day? Who is she? I have no idea.

This fic is dumb and super unbeta’d but oh well, sorry for any bad writing and junk. I’ve mentioned Jaskier being jealous before and wanted to write something to go with it.

Title from Her Sweet Kiss.

Warnings: Public Sex, slight degradation, Reader is drunk, Jaskier is insecure.

You feel the eyes on you before you even really understand what they are, hairs on the back of your neck standing up on end. It’s distracting as all hell.

“Fuck!”

The word comes out loud and slurred as you stumble over your own feet mid-dance. You’re drunk, or if not drunk then tipsy enough to know that you soon will be- the feeling is more than welcome. Working, fighting as you have been, it leaves little time these sorts of festivities, the kind that reminds you of home. The rush from guzzling down tankard after tankard of sickly-sweet apple cider is unrivalled in its ability to make you feel girlish and giddy. And so, you’re dancing. Or were, as it may be, before you tripped.

Your compatriots don’t join you, but you rather expected that before abandoning the table. Geralt seldom allows himself to indulge in such luxuries- like smiling, or engaging in pleasantries, so you assume that dancing is far beyond his capabilities. He doesn’t even tap his foot when Jaskier performs catchy, often bawdy songs, in his honour, so this music, pretty but lacking in lyric or any type of familiarity is unlikely to rouse him to his feet. Besides, crowds are hardly something the White-haired man enjoys, standing out like a sore thumb amidst all of the mundane people of the village you’re staying in.

Jaskier, however, Jaskier staying at the table is a little odder. The bard adores crowds, feeds off of the energy that a group of people exudes and is able to talk to anyone, a trait you find intriguing and intimidating in equal measure, but he's sat. The tavern has a band of bards, all playing in unison to form something overwhelming and beautiful, so there is no chance for him to perform, to wink and sashay about while strumming his lute and lapping up attention. That had rather taken the wind out of his sails when he realised, souring his mood to a point where he isn’t even trying to dance with you. It had been upsetting at first, how he had essentially ignored you in favour of scowling and fingering the frets of his lute like the strings will make the other musicians disappear.

Ever since meeting the bard, you’ve thought him beautiful. Not beautiful, beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He's amazing. The kind of person for whom a natural sort of charm radiates from them, who would be attractive from personality alone, even if he wasn’t one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes upon. Ever since the two of you began... whatever it is the two of you have been doing, he's done his part to act as if you’re the only person in tge world to him, but right now? He only has eyes for the band. The coin that he could have earned would have been a godsend, but you don’t care about that right now, all you want is to dance with the bard. He's just. Sat there, scowling and sitting instead if dancing with you.

It’s such a simple thing to bring so much pleasure; dancing, especially when coupled with somewhere to do it, and this tavern certainly feels like an appropriate place for it. It’s heaving, overrun with people you assume must b locals, all laughing and chattering like they haven’t a care in the world. Perhaps they don’t, their only troubles coming in the form of what ale to drink and who they should dance with. You envy them that. Truly, you can’t remember a single one of your concerns from before you packed up and abandoned your life go travel with a wandering Witcher and his Bard. Logically, you know you must have had them, but not a single one is important enough to linger in your mind. Any domestic issue pales in comparison to fighting beasts, arguments about corsets and how near you may go to the woods forgotten in lieu of how best to fell a Wyvern or exactly where to hit any man who means to do you harm. It’s selfish to envy these people their lives when you know that you wouldn’t trade the life you have chosen for all the gold in the world. Mid-stumble, you catch yourself, and stand upright once more, bringing your tankard to your mouth and draining it before moving to place it on a table, only to fall over your feet once more, flinching for fear of impact with the ground. But it never comes, instead a pair of arms wind about your waist and tug you up to the body of one of the boys who had been dancing around you. He’s a pretty thing, a mop of blonde curls hanging about wide green eyes that stare at you like you’re a prize that’s fallen into his lap, and you grin up at him gratefully. It takes less than a second for him to tug you closer still and begin another dance, hand on your waist and the other gripping your hand; it’s nice, nice to feel wanted, even if it’s only for a night, a dance- there are worse ways to spend a night than hanging off the arm of some pretty stranger. Serves as a nice distraction from the bard as well. Well, it would be nice, if not for the feeling that you’re being watched, that has you craning your head to see who it is that is staring. Then, your eyes meet a gaze all too familiar.

Jaskier.

His eyes are narrowed into slits, brows knitted together and mouth downturns in a look that you don’t recognise on his face, but know all too well. A scowl. Jaskier doesn’t scowl, that’s a look used by Geralt or yourself, but right now he's scowling at you, glaring daggers into you and gripping the neck of his lute so tightly it looks as if it might break.

“Something wrong, Pretty Lady?” The blond asks playfully, making you turn your gaze away from the glowering man across the room to meet the eyes looking down at you.

“Oh. No. No, I just. Thought someone was looking at me.”

“The man in the red?” He asks, looking straight at Jaskier before chuckling, spinning you about and causing you to fall against his chest once more. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“What?” You ask incredulously, eyebrow raising. It's such a weird thing for him to say about a complete stranger, and you can’t really understand what he means. Jaskier is scowling, yes, but you assume it’s because you’re able to enjoy yourself while he cannot perform.

“He looks like he might murder me.” The boy tilts his head and leans his head in, mere centimetres from your face in such a way that has you thinking that he might kiss you. “Your husband?”

His question flusters you, only serving to make your cheeks flush bright red and a nervous laugh to escape your lips. Jaskier? A Husband? The idea of him being wed is so alien, even when applied to you. You spend too many nights with him curled about you, but you aren’t even courting, never mind being anywhere close to marriage.

“No!” You say the word a little too forcefully, and your dancing partner grins. “We're traveling partners, he is not my husband.” You don’t know what you are. You kiss, settle in his arms like it’s where you belong, spend far too many nights with him bucking up into you and swallowing down your moans, but you aren’t courting. He isn’t your gentleman caller. Your lover, yes, your friend, always, but you have no clue how to articulate that to this stranger, and so don't.

“The look on his face has me thinking he might wish to be more than traveling partners, Pretty Lady.” He says teasingly, lips brushing against your own with each word. You are more than that, but the alcohol has you tongue tied. You want to kiss this stranger. Well, that’s not entirely true, you want to be dancing with Jaskier and to drag him down into a kiss, to lean in and close the gaps between your lips, but you'll settle for trying to forget the man behind you who cares far more about music than spending time with you. He seems to have the same thought as you seeing as he kisses you suddenly.

Its soft, sweet, but... felt like nothing. It’s just skin on skin, no different from how his hand on yours feels, and you can’t help but feel disappointed. You’ve only ever kissed one man before, never felt a need or want to either, only ever really wanted a bard who is too tied up in himself currently to kiss you, but every kiss with Jaskier is a world stilling experience, the sort people write songs and poetry about and this feels like absolutely nothing at all. No sudden surge of desire, no need to fling your arms about him, no want for anything at all. It’s deeply disappointing to say the least; like something inside of you is broken, or at least dampened by the alcohol raging through your system. The man kissing you, however, seems to feel something if the quiet moan he lets out is anything to go by, and pulls you closer, but you remain still. You can’t bring yourself to kiss him back, so instead just stand there stock still. Well, stood stock still until you feel a hand firmly grasp your wrist and tug. Hard. The pull sends you stumbling blindly backward, barely able to realise what is going on when you see Jaskier pushing the blond man backwards.

“Get your bloody hands off of her!” He says, words dripping with poison, audible above the music. The people dancing around you stop their movements and stare at what is going on, at the Bard standing in front of you like a guard dog.

Your dancing partner opens his mouth to argue while surging toward Jaskier who clenches his fists into balls, but stops when you quickly say Jaskier's name. This is the closest you have ever seen him to a fight, watching hands that daily cradle a lute clenched to punch someone is so unnatural.

It’s embarrassing, to say the least, to be gawked at by such strangers and turned into a spectacle, and so you reach out to the bard, hand brushing against his back.

“Jask-” You begin, and he turns to you quickly, eyes initially full of anger, but softening slightly when they meet your own; his hand flies out once more and grabs your arm, painfully tight.

“Come on, Little Miss,” He says coldly, walking towards the door to the pub and dragging you along behind him. You drag along behind him, and hear the music start up once more, making you scowl at the prospect of missing out on dancing. There goes the chance at nostalgic bliss you had been enjoying. You’re in the street before you really know what is going on, and Jaskier curses under his breath into the darkness of the evening.

“Shit. Where is the fucking inn...?” He mutters, craning his head about to try and get his barings once more. This isn’t where you recall entering, and assume that you must have left through a side entrance, you’re in some side alley, not the main street. The iron grip on your arm is growing painful and you try to pull it free, Jaskier's grip doesn’t falter. The air is uncomfortably cold, especially against your warm cheeks, and standing like this is doing little to warm you.

He’s trying to work out where you go from here, and you’re wondering the exact same thing; just not about how to get back to the inn. He’s gripping you like he wants to bruise you, wants to leave his mark on you and you don’t know what there is you can say to make his jaw unclench or his hands soften. There are no words. Though you aren’t courting, it’s been quite implicit between the two of you that whatever it is you have, it’s exclusive; he and you are not to be... toying about with other people. You don’t flirt with men hoping for free drinks or cheaper rooms anymore, Jaskier doesn’t bed or even flirt with other women, and between the two of you? You fell at the first hurdle, he has remained loyal to whatever this is, and you let some stranger kiss you. Famous flirt and serial seducer, Jaskier, has not tried to romance anyone but you but with a little ale in you and the high of dancing rushing through you, you let a stranger kiss you; not just kiss you, but kiss you in front of Jaskier. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.

“I’m weak, my love, and I am Wanting.” The lyrics come from your mouth unconsciously. You don’t sing, it’s not something that comes readily to you, but with the ale and discomfort around you, it’s a that you can think to do. Singing is Jaskier's skill, and while drunk you can hardly carry a tune, but you simply need to fill the silence and a song will do. His song too. It feels like an insult, but he turns to you with a smile- all teeth and gums. Like a wolf, a beast, and it’s exciting. Jaskier doesn’t look like a beast, he’s all sweetness and light but given what he’s seen, you suppose it makes sense. You blink slowly at him, and feel him tug you toward him once more, body making contact with his chest and driving all of the air from your lungs.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” You ask, a little more harshly than you expected it to come out. “I was having a good time-”

“A good time? Is that what you call letting a little toad like him near you?” He seethes, towering over you in such a way as to make sure you must look up at him. You feel like a child being chided, not someone talking to a man who had until this night been seen as your equal.

“We were only dancing, Jaskier. I fail to see how he was taking advantage of me by dancing. You and Geralt were hardly going to stop your brooding and be my partner.” You try to argue, but your words come out stilted and unnatural. Arguing with him isn’t natural: Geralt you can argue with until blue in the face, everything said is forgotten within an hour or so, but Jaskier? He remembers everything, pulls it out at a second’s notice and is a wordsmith. He knows how to build up or tear someone down with nothing more than his words, and well at that. Your argument is childish and nonsensical too- acting as if you were only dancing is an obvious lie. You know what happened, he knows what happened. You cannot deny what he's seen with his own eyes and to try is to insult his intelligence.

He pushes you, and the rough brick of the inn presses into your back, rough and painful enough to warrant a noise of complaint, which dies on your tongue when Jaskier's hands bracket you in place. You let out a gasp, from the sharp pain of the bricks and the fact that he's pushed you and is so near. With him so close, you can smell ale on his breath that you hadn’t seen him drink. Is that your breath? The proximity of your lover so close combined with the alcohol has your head spinning in a way that makes you worry you might just sink to your knees. He looks beautiful. He always does, but somehow, now with chestnut locks falling into his eyes and glaring at you in a manner that is just on the right side of feral, he has your knees shaking. You've never been attracted to dangerous men, but in this moment, with him having all but punched a man over you, you understand how so many women can fall over themselves for men like Geralt.

“You weren’t just dancing, were you, Little Miss?” He growls, leaning in until his face is but a centimetre away from your own. “You let him kiss you.”

“He kissed me.” You attempt to correct him before realising you've basically said the exact same thing he did. Jaskier growls at that, and slams his mouth into yours. It hurts a little, his kiss pushing your head back into the hard wall, mouth working harshly against your own and tongue prying its way into your mouth, world’s away from his usual way of kissing- all sweetness and light replaced by something darker. Almost possessive. You try to move your hands up to grip the satin front of his doublet only to have them pinned to the wall at either side of your chest. His lips leave your own to move down to the column of your throat, not quite kissing but more nipping at the skin.

“You let him kiss you.” He says darkly against the skin, warm breath fanning against cold skin to make you shiver.

“I didn’t kiss him-"

“You didn’t stop him either.” The words are almost a snarl, and your heart all but stills in your chest.

“I didn’t know how! And I didn’t kiss him back, Jaskier, we both know I wouldn't...”

“I don’t believe in sharing.” Funny statement. He’s made a name for himself by bedding married women, but the woman he isn’t courting being kissed is somehow a punishable offence? What’s the difference, you ask yourself, while his lips ghost across your neck, how is some man kissing you any different from what he used to do? Teeth graze sensitive skin and you bite back a moan when a thought enters your mind. Those women weren’t his. They were another man's wife, not someone he shares a bed with, spends his days beside. He hasn’t ever needed to concern himself with the aftermath of adultery, save for running from nobles- never been jealous of who looks at a woman that he cares for.

At once, everything falls into place. All night makes so much more sense, how he had tried to keep a grip on your hand as you slipped from his grasp to the bar, never to return as you joined the fold to dance, the constant watching, the scowling at your dancing partner. No sign of his usual animated chatter, no annoying Geralt, just watching. Unending watching. He wasn’t angry about the other musicians. No, no, it was something completely different all together.

“Are. Are you jealous?” You stammer out which only makes the Bard growl and all but bite your neck, sucking on the skin in such a way that has you certain that there will be a bruise there in the morning. A strange concept indeed. Jaskier is all lover and no fighter, so the thought of him bruising your skin even through kisses is something else.

“Am I jealous of some ugly prick?” He raises an eyebrow and slowly raises to his full height once more, his knee slotting between your thighs and grinding oh so slowly against your sex. “No. What I am, is fucking angry. That some bastard is touching My Little Miss, that you would let him-"

“Y-Yours?” You stammer out as the meat oh his thigh rubs against your clitoris.

“I spend my days singing to you.” He nips at your neck. “My evenings holding you.” He laps at the bite with the flat of his tongue. “My nights fucking you.” His hands release your wrists, one moving up to grope your chest while the other moves down to tug your skirts up past your waist and slides into your undergarments to press the tips of his fingers to your sensitive pearl, letting out a ghost of a laugh upon feeling your fluids covering his digits. “I kiss you; I sleep with you, I live and breathe you and use my mouth on you until you can't even breathe. I think that rather makes you mine.”

He says it in a manner that is so matter of fact that it makes your head spin. His. Logically, you know you should be angry at him for being possessive- you aren’t his partner, not his wife, not anything more than a bed partner- but the way he says it has you dripping, walls clenching around nothing at all while his leg grinds against your cunt. His. It leaves no room for argument or discussion, just a claim of ownership that can’t be disputed, not that you would if your traitorous mouth would allow you to form words. You like that, as much as you know you shouldn’t. It makes you sound like a pet or some kept whore, and the affectation in his voice only serves to remind you that he must be some rich cunt and you should slap him for implying he could ever own you, but really, all you want is for him to breach you with his calloused fingers, make your thighs quake. To be owned by him, at least right now, sounds perfect- to be filled with him until you know nothing but his name and how his cock feels within you.

“You're soaking.” He mutters, dragging his nose against your skin. “Is this for me? Or that prick?” He sounds so smug, but there's an undercurrent of anger running under his playful tone.

“Please... Please.” You whine out, biting your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. He chuckles, fingers deftly circling your clit without ever moving further.

“Please what, Little Miss?” He asks, his smile all teeth. “Please...? Please stop touching you? Please let you go and be touched by that disgusting little-"

“Finger me.” You cut him off earnestly, back arching off of the wall and pressing your chest into his. Melitele, it’s sad how wanton you’re acting, begging to be touched in a place where anyone could walk past the two of you. Quiet is needed, discretion to keep prying eyes away, but you don’t care who hears you as long as he stops playing these games and does what you both want him to do.

“Me or-"

“Gods above Jaskier, please. Please, Jaskier.”

He smirks at that, and you force yourself forward to slam your mouth against his. The vibration against your lips lets you know he has more to say; always has more to say, is never silent. Normally, his voice is something you revel in; how it manages to make even the most mundane thing sound melodic, but if kissing him will keep him from talking more about the man inside then you can deal with him not speaking. Thankfully, though, he ceases his circling to instead push what feels like two fingers into you and your eyes water at the sudden movement. It’s not the first time he’s done this but it is the first time he’s done it with such intensity, thrusting his fingers with such force you're almost afraid it might bruise your cunt, the worry is short lived when the pleasure of it hits you all at once. He’s good with his hands, you’re reminded when you notice the neck of his lute bobbing with each movement of his arm. Musicians’ fingers, calloused from the fruits of his art and not labour, play you like he plays his lute and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, just to spite him. He loves it when you make noise, said once that it makes him sure that he's actually pleasing you, and it’s normally a sign that you two can afford the privacy to be so- there is no privacy here, in an alley outside of a busy tavern where one loud moan could alert anyone of what the two of you were doing. It’s embarrassing how much the proximity makes you want to moan, and almost definitely why he's doing this here. Wants everyone inside, but mostly the blond man, to know how little it takes for you to fall apart for him. That travelling partner definitely isn’t the right term for what he is to you, even if you don’t know what the right words to describe him are.

“Come now, Little Miss.” He coos quietly, fingers on the hand not currently working you into a stupor tracing the visible edges of your teeth. “Sing for me.” His face shifts to your neck and presses a soft kiss to it, before nipping at it, nipping turning to biting and sucking as soon as it had started. His fingers gather more momentum when a third breeches into you and then crooks into a spot that has you seeing stars. A noise that verges on a scream, masked by a sudden burst of loud music and cheering within the pub, escapes you which makes Jaskier grin and peck your lips before retracting his fingers all together.

“Jaskier-" You hiss, eyes narrowed to slits, but stop when he drags your hand to his trousers and places it on top of his cock. The dark had done enough to conceal it from you, but with it beneath your hand you can feel it, hard and throbbing beneath the fancy fabric. It’s good to know that, jealousy aside, he isn’t angry enough to not want you. Dark lashes brush against his cheekbones and his head slumps to the wall beside your head as soon as you touch him, letting out a wanton little moan. “Oh Jask.” Your voice turns tender and your grip on his member tightens as much as it can through his pants and you work it up and down the shaft, feeling how it twitches with every movement of your wrist. The first time this had ever happened, both of you drunk on ale that tasted like piss and hidden away in some cupboard in an inn, he had chuckled at how gentle your touch had been, going so far as to grab your wrist to guide your movements into something more pleasurable: but now he chokes out a moan of something that sounds like your name, hips stuttering in staccato thrusts to chase your hand. You drop your grip of him after a pump or two more, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the exposed underside of his jaw. It’s little by means of an apology, but you see his lips turn up in a smile while he heaves out a sigh, hands sliding down to his trousers and unlacing them at a speed that reminds you of his strumming.

“Part your legs.” It’s spoken like a request, but you know it’s a demand and even if it wasn't, there was no way you could deny him. With an awkward sort of shuffle, you push your undergarments down to step out of them best that you can before leaning back against the wall and letting your legs part. The skirts still cover you, but you feel so exposed like this. In the near pitch, you can hardly make out anything save for how his arms move to shove his trousers down. Darkness hides too much, you think, as you can’t even make out how his member even looks in this light, but Melitele you feel it against your thigh when he steps closer to you. A cold hand slides your skirt up once more and Jaskier steps between your legs, holding onto your thigh and guiding it onto his hip.

“Can I-"

“Fuck me, Jaskier, or I shall scream.”

The moan that escapes your lips is louder than you would like, but he chuckles and it’s enough to make your heart swell: lips landing on your and moving gently against them as he thrusts into you. He's big, big enough to make your cunt feel full to bursting point each time he enters you, and you can’t help but make noises when he does.

“There we go, Darling.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you wonder how he can string together a coherent sentence in moments like this. “Gods, you’re so tight.”

Thrusts grow faster and with each movement your moans grow louder even against his lips, you can feel them curl around yours. He tugs back from you after a little while and rests his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily.

“You’re so good to me, Little Miss.” He breathes, grip turning to iron on your thigh. “You’re... perfect. My Little Miss.” He speaks so much that his words feel so much more natural than silence, more natural than anything in the world; bird songs, trickling streams, Jaskier’s words. “You’re beautiful, and he wants you... everyone wants you. I can’t lose you...”

“...You know I want you, don’t you?” You ask, voice cracking. The noise that he makes is somewhere between a moan and a sob, breathing shakily against the skin of your throat. “I can't imagine being without you, Dandelion. You... You have no need to be jealous of some stranger who tries to kiss me.” He whimpers, hips stuttering. He's close, far closer than you, but in this moment, you don't care at all. This isn’t about you. This is about him, and letting him know how much you care. Care in such a way that words alone will never be able to express.

“You want me now.” He sighs, thrusts slowing and hand moving to rub your clit once more. “I know that. But you'll change your mind, Little Miss. Everyone does. I ought to savour the time we have...” He thrusts hard at the word savour, and you see white as his cock head hits that spot deep within that makes you weak. “But I know you’ll soon change your mind.”

Oh. That, that was not what you anticipated at all- you had expected some sort of talk about how he wants you too, but this self-depreciation is new. Jaskier is always so confident and this is alien to you. There isn’t a time you know when he isn’t self-aggrandizing, preening and strutting like some fancy song bird, all too aware of how wonderful he is.

“I'll always want you.” You whisper and his head rises from the wall once more and instead rests his forehead against yours. “You. Just you. Wonderful, amazing you.” You mean it too. He'll probably believe it to be drunken ramblings come morning, but you mean every word. You love him, love him, love him.

You love him. Have for far too long, really, far longer than is right to go without saying. It’s impossible not to love him, he’s a breath of fresh air, a beacon of light in a doublet, a lullaby you didn’t know you had forgotten, nostalgia for a life you've never known before. Jaskier. Wonderful, foolish Jaskier, who sings away each day and talks to you like he cannot imagine speaking to another soul, and does his best to stitch up your wounds while chiding you about how you worry him so. Jaskier, who has carried you on his back when he thinks you're limping behind, and sleeps with his arms wound around you and head burrowed between your shoulder blades. You love Jaskier. The thought overwhelms you, and you have to bite back the words to keep them from coming out. You seek his lips out once more, kissing him chastely.

“I'll always want you too, Little Miss.” He admits, he thrusts hard into that spot and presses on your clit and your vision blurs as you moan so loudly your voice cracks, pleasure overtaking you and ensuring you can’t feel anything but pleasure and the rush of his seed flooding into you.

“I mean it, you know.” You say when the world settles once more, Jaskier pulling himself free of you and tucking himself back into his trousers. “About wanting you, I mean.” I mean it. I shall want you till the day I die, till each star burns out and the nights no longer follow the day, till spring doesn’t come. I want every part, every facet and secret, every regret and mistake and treasured memory- and to make a million more. I want to show you each scar and hear every song. I love you. I have never loved anyone as I love you, I will never again love as I have loved you. You make a poet out of me, steal my senses, my very soul; and I want you to keep them until the day you are no longer mine to keep, and then keep them a thousand days beyond so I cannot feel your absence. I love you. I want you.

“You mean it now, Little Miss.” He says simply, hand taking yours. “Now is enough.” He continues and squeezes your hand.

Now is enough, you think, but forever is all you want.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier smut #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you

177 notes · View notes

jared-19-cant-reid · 3 years

Text

A Study In Behavior: Chapter 1

A Study In Behavior (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Obsession

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.8K

Series Summary: When you signed up for Professor Reid’s class, you were expecting a low effort but interesting class to fill your psychology elective credit. Instead, your fascination with the professor leaves you spending more time than you’d expected in office hours.

Chapter Summary: A strange dream and an unusual professor make today’s lecture much more interesting than you thought it would be.

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, cursing, mentions of anxiety, suggestive language, implied age gap.

A/N: I’m planning on making this an eventual smut slow burn, since this is one of my favorite tropes and I want to make it a Realistic daydream lmao. This chapter is focused on introducing you to the world, reader, and this version of Spencer. Lots of potential here, I already have a million different ideas of how this should go... as always dms and asks are open!

The pattering of rain on the tin roof seemed to crescendo, a million drummers tapping out a perpetual drumroll on steel drums above your head. You’d always complained you couldn’t hear yourself think with all that noise, but you missed it despite yourself when you left Seattle for college. You were pulled away from that brief moment of self awareness by the touch of a cold hand, clutching yours as if you might be snatched away at any moment if the grip were to loosen.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself in a bed you knew all too well. A bed you’d spent too many hours in, slept too many nights in, and yet was not your own. Turning your head to the right, you took in the sight of your sleeping mother, her expression of serenity contradicted by the deep creases in her face, betraying the frown that she wore most of her waking life. Your gaze trailed down to your hand in hers; her knuckles were turning white from her tight grip, but you didn’t feel any pain.

Laying next to her, you watched her face for what felt like hours as her chest rose and fell in the lazy patterns of slumber, too afraid of waking her with your movement to breathe. She almost looked happy like this. Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud beeping sound. You looked around for the offending fire alarm, but as you scanned the ceiling it began to dissolve before your eyes, the grip on your hand loosening until you broke free from the scene fully.

You opened your eyes with a start as you sat up quickly, feeling out of place in your own room. You were a painting placed in the wrong section of a museum, an unintentional imposter. Nails digging into your comforter, you tried in vain to slow your shallow breaths as you looked around wildly for something to remind you of where you were, of who you were.

Your eyes skipped from your stack of records from your childhood leaning casually against the wall beside the record player on your desk, to the stacks of books watching over you from the top of your bookshelf, unable to fit on the shelves but too close to your heart to part with. Your gaze finally settled on the floor, taking in the mess you’d been meaning to clean up for days now.

As you returned to your body, you could no longer ignore the blaring of your alarm, groaning as you reached for your phone on the nightstand. A glance at the screen had you shooting out of bed. Shit, I have to be at class in 20 minutes. You got up, muttering to yourself about how 8 A.M. classes should be considered cruel and unusual punishment, and maneuvered around your clothes strewn across the floor.

As you raced to your closet, your eyes scanned the clothes you owned, speeding through mental images of a million combinations before giving up and reaching for your comfort clothes. You pulled on the green high waisted cargo pants that you’d owned since high school. Nobody to impress in this class anyway, you reasoned, grabbing the fitted white crop top that your friend had embroidered your name on.

You tore through the apartment in the most violent and rushed performance of a morning routine the world had ever seen, only half trying to keep quiet for the sake of your neighbors. Hair tangled between your fingers and makeup was swiped on haphazardly as you struggled to make yourself presentable, cursing at the time and throwing random belongings in your bag.

Calling out a goodbye to your roommate only to be met with silence, you realized that in your frenzy you had forgotten that no sane college student would willingly be up at this hour. Shaking your head as you rushed out of your building, you mused that you’d just gotten all your stupid mistakes for today over with quite efficiently.

Three years of mediocre dorm experiences had left you desperate for a change, and luckily your now-roommate Jordan volunteered to split the rent for the 2 bedroom you now called home. You’d both agreed to ignore whatever ghost stories scared off previous residents and earned you a fair price for a decent place close to campus; ghosts would just add a little intrigue to your domestic life, you’d joked.

Checking the time once more, you cursed under your breath and broke out into a run. God, I should work out more, you thought as your lungs began to burn, I wouldn’t stand a chance in a zombie apocalypse. Racing through campus, you finally reached the doors of the lecture hall that held your class… which had started three minutes prior. You tried to catch your breath before opening the door, cringing as you heard the professor pause mid-lecture.

You tried not to meet anyone’s gaze as you quickly made your way to a seat. The first one you could find was in the third row-- close enough to the front to make out the facial expressions of your professor, who had continued his train of thought after you entered, choosing to ignore you in favor of finishing his idea.

As you got settled and tuned into the lecture, you realized the professor was still reviewing the syllabus. Pulling it up on your laptop, you looked at the top to remind yourself of his name: Dr. Spencer Reid. Finally looking up, your mind went blank. Oh. Not only was your professor way younger than you’d expected, he was... well, attractive. Thats’s a reasonable objective assessment, right? You knew he was just as knowledgeable as older professors-- you’d chosen this course for its fantastic reviews from previous students-- but his youth was a welcome change from the dinosaurs you were so used to in the neuroscience department.

As you studied him, you only became more sure in your original assessment; he was tall, with tousled brunet hair and a face that was… well, unfair. You weren’t surprised to catch a few other girls unabashedly staring at him, clearly drooling over the man as he spoke animatedly about his favorite parts of the course.

You shook yourself-- this man was your professor. You shouldn’t think about how attractive he is, it’s unprofessional. You also shouldn’t look at his hands the way you are right now, following them as he gestured along with his words you still weren’t paying attention to. You definitely shouldn’t think about what those hands could do.

Oh my god, snap out of it, you reprimanded yourself, you can’t afford to spend the semester fantasizing about your professor, focus on the class! You finally tuned in to the lecture, catching the end of what sounded like a tangent about the difference between triggers and stressors. For the rest of the class, you listened intently, drawn in by Professor Reid’s clear excitement about the topic.

Your efforts to ignore your professor’s appearance were somewhat successful, but as you listened to him speak passionately about the value of profiling as a tool for certain types of criminal investigations, you knew you were done for. His excitement about sharing his knowledge left you fighting back a smile, watching intently as he gestured wildly. You’d always liked listening to fellow nerds, eagerly basking in the pure delight beaming from their faces as they ranted about their subject of interest.

You sighed internally, preparing yourself for a semester of unreasonable dedication to this class, which was meant to be your chill psych elective to leave you more time to spend in the lab. It’s not like this topic wasn’t interesting to you, it was just that you weren’t expecting to be obsessed with it-- or more accurately, the man teaching it.

Before you knew it, the class was over. Professor Reid told everyone to finish the assigned reading by next class in preparation for a discussion, dismissing the class and walking over to his desk. You gathered up your belongings and the remnants of your dignity before slowly making your way to the exit, lost in thought about the overlap between your field and his.

Your feet changed course before you could stop to think about what you were doing. When you tuned back in, you were horrified to find that you were walking towards Professor Reid. Right when you were about to turn around and try to escape without further embarrassment, you were stopped by his curious but friendly gaze. Ignoring your inner voice’s screams of horror, you composed yourself and made your way over to his desk.

He spoke before you could, greeting you with a small smile and a polite “how can I help you?”

“Hi! Um, I just wanted to come apologize for being late today. I promise, it’s really unlike me, and I just don’t want you to think that I don’t care about your class or anything, because it seems really cool so far and I’m so interested in seeing how this could apply to my research and I was only really late because of this dream I had-”

You stopped before going into detail, saving yourself from your nervous rambling, and he spoke your name hesitantly. Your confusion must have been apparent on your face, because he looked at your chest, clearly having made the connection from the word embroidered on it. The devil on your shoulder whispered that his eyes had lingered there longer than they needed to, but you dismissed that thought quickly.

“There’s no need to apologize, as long as you don’t make a habit of it we should be fine,” he reassured you, “and judging from how well you paid attention today, I have no doubt you’ll more than make up for it next class in the discussion.”

You bit back a smile at his praise, shocked he’d noticed you at all. You thanked your lucky stars he’d interpreted your staring as interest in the class, rather than the glaring sign of attraction that it would easily be identified as in any other setting. You quickly nodded, thanking him for his understanding and promising it wouldn’t happen again before exchanging goodbyes as you turned and walked out of the room.

Bursting out of the lecture hall, you finally filled your lungs with air fully, trying to regain some sense of control over your feelings. As you walked to the library to study, your mind wandered back to Professor Reid. It’s not like he’d ever feel the same way, what’s the harm in a little daydreaming? You decided you could live with a harmless crush. Keeps things interesting, you thought. Stepping into your castle of books, you pushed the events of the morning to the back of your mind, but one thought lingered: This is going to be one hell of a semester.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

47 notes · View notes

anastasiabeaverhousen87 · 4 years

Text

Make Wise Choices Part 3

Doctor Sharpe

You can feel yourself being held by strong arms and your face being placed in an odd angle. Someone is touching your mouth and your cheeks. You can feel liquid filling your mouth, no not liquid blood and tugging inside your cheeks. A few moments later you begin to hear voices, several voices in fact. You can recognize your sister’s voices and Lena’s but there is one you most definitely do not know who it belongs to. Its quite soothing though and because you don’t feel pain, you take that as a major win for now. Then you seem to notice the tugging and hands on your face continue to prod and touch inside your mouth and now you are intrigued to know what’s is going on.

You try to open your eyes but there’s a bright light directly assaulting your eyes, you first instinct is to hiss and close your eyes again but you find impossible to move your jaw to perform such action and in response the person manhandling your mouth tenses their hold to make sure you don’t move your jaw and the pressure grows stronger this time. The hands touching your jaw are strong and cool soft. You don’t feel scare and you wonder who the person might be.

By now everyone in your proximity notice you began to regain consciousness and now the voices are directed at you.

Alex: “Hold still little one, Doctor Sharpe is here, and she needs to look at your incisions and assess the damage. Please don’t be scare its just us and Doctor Sharpe” says in a very calm and reassuring voice.

Doctor Sharpe? You mentally ask yourself; you don’t know anyone named Sharpe and you know your dentist name is Richards.

Kara: “Shhh little one, we got you. Doctor Sharpe is a friend of Lena and she was super nice to come here and check on you. She is a dentist by the way, so don’t think we would just let anyone just prod and touch your mouth. Lena called her once you passed out, we were worry for you and I mean is not like I don’t appreciate your being here Dr. Sharpe but…”

Lena: “Kara, Love please calm down. Take a deep breath, you are rambling, and you are going to make y/n nervous” -Lena puts a reassuring hand on Kara’s shoulder and that makes the blonde stop and relax.

Kara: “sorry…”

You open your eyes once again, this time you are prepared for the assault of bright light and squint your eyes and can barely distinguish 3 figures standing in front of you, one of them holding your face.

Alex rolls her eyes at her sister “Kara tends to ramble a lot when she is anxious, but honestly thank you for coming so quickly to check on our sister. We really appreciate it” – Alex says with a small but grateful smile aimed to the doctor.

Dr Sharpe: “don’t be, it’s fine” the mysterious person says chuckling a little at Kara’s fluster rambling. The doctor removes her hands from your face and all of the sudden the blinding light is gone - “Honestly it’s okay, don’t worry, I’m used to worried parents and relatives doting over my patients. Its perfectly normal to worry about your love ones, especially when they are as cute as your sister right here”

Y/N: “Wow that voice. Pretty voice. I like it …Hooot” In your drugged out state of mind you think you’re having an inner monologue but you actually voiced those words out loud and you are thankful for the mouth piece you have stuffed next to your cheek and that the words come up a bit sluggish. Still you know everyone understood because you can hear different kinds of snickering coming from the women in the room.

Y/N: “nghhh…”

Dr. Sharpe: chuckles- “Well thank you honey, that is very sweet of you to say. But please try not to speak or move your jaw just yet”

That voice again, you really like that voice and you are finally able to see her face and the owner of that voice. You are mesmerized by the eyes looking straight at you, like she is looking into your very soul. The most astonishing blue eyes you have ever seen in your life. And that face, blonde soft waves and kind face. And in that moment, you are so grateful for the fever and swollen cheeks, otherwise you would be bright red with embarrassment and wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Lena: “Actually Cassandra is not a dentist, she is actually an amazing Oral & Maxillofacial Surgeon and a good friend of mine” Lena says smiling at the doctor and both your sisters look quite impressed and a bit embarrassed for calling her a dentist without knowing exactly what her expertise or field was.

Dr. Sharpe: blushing a little – “You are very kind Lena. But don’t worry, dentistry specialties are not commonly known. But let’s get back to the most pressing matter at hand” – the woman switches back to her professional persona and imposing presence. “Y/N I need to ask you a few questions, I’m going to hold your hand and please press my hand once for YES and twice for NO, we are going to let the muscles in your mouth rest for a bit. Are you comfortable doing this? – you press her hand once to let her know you are okay with it.

Alex- laughs a little and there’s a smirk on her face – “Oh wow, that’s a great and polite way tell someone to shut it, good one doc. I wish I had used that one sooner on this one” -Alex points at you while Kara and Lena give Alex a disapproval look while you look at the doctor with teary eyes.

Kara: “Alex! don’t mock y/n. she feels bad enough and you are not helping”

Lena: “don’t be mean Alex”

You know its all good and there’s not bite behind the words. You just feel bad because you just remembered why you end up in your current predicament. By being stubborn and a brat. You feel bad for worrying your sisters and Lena and all you want to do is to apologize. But you can’t, because you were told not to speak which makes you tear up in frustration at not being able to communicate properly.

But Alex being the wonderful sister she is, she knows without you being able to say anything she just looks at your eyes and just knows what’s wrong.

Alex: “Kara come on, you know I’m just joking. I could never be mean to her. she is not crying because of that tough.” – Alex comes to sit next to you and holds your other hand – “ y/n don’t cry, I know okay? I know you are sorry, and I know you are just frustrated for not being able to speak at the moment. Please sweetie no, please don’t cry. Just listen to the doctor and we will speak later okay? – you nod at her and she tenderly brushes a few stray tears from your face. She stands to let the doctor continue with her examination.

Meanwhile Doctor Sharpe is looking at the interaction between the women and she smiles at the warm and caring dynamic among you all. She is quite intrigue about how soft Lena is with them and more importantly she was becoming quite smitten by you, you had that power over people. You didn’t have to do much, you y/n Danvers had something that automatically draws people in and your eyes are so expressive and innocent that the good doctor can’t fight the urge to look at them and feel something she wasn’t expecting nor she had felt in a very very long time. She is taken out of her reverie when she hears Alex mentioning the examination she was supposed to be doing right about now.

Dr. Sharpe: “Riiight, yes sorry. Ok so here we go. From what I was told by Lena and your sisters the pain your experienced was bad enough to knock you out. y/n while you were unconscious, I injected you with a very strong pain medication. You should not be able to have much sensation inside your mouth, but let me ask and without traying to move or prod with your tongue, do you feel any sort of pain in your mouth?

You take a moment to take inventory of your current condition and you cannot feel any sort of pain in your mouth nor anything similar to the pain you felt by stumping your foot during your temper tantrum thrown at your big sister. You press her hand twice, saying NO, you don’t feel pain.

Dr. Sharpe: “Good, that’s good. You will experience lack of sensation for a couple of hours. Like I said it’s a strong pain reliever with a numbing agent, I gave you the best drugs available” – she winks at you. “But once that wears off you will feel very uncomfortable for at least the next 48 hours. Basically, strenuous activity can cause pressure to build up and complicate things like heavy bleeding and rupture of your stiches and of course can be extremely painful. Which unfortunately was your case. Because you haven’t developed the blood clot inside the tooth cavity, you are not suffering from what Is called dry socket, and that is not fun let me tell. It’s quite painful.”

Your eyes were comically wide in both surprise and fear.

Dr. Sharpe: “ Ok let me explain that better. Nothing to be scare about. Think about it like a lake. Yes, like a lake or a pond. After a tooth extraction, blood fills the site where the tooth was. Blood is what allows the body to heal. Just like a lake needs to be filled with water, a tooth extraction needs blood to heal. What happens during a dry socket is that the blood washes away and the site dries out too soon. When the blood clot is lost, the site lacks the blood cells and nutrients needed for healing. A dry socket is like a lake in a drought. The lake has dried up.”

You like her voice and how soothing it is. Even tough what she is saying sounds painful and scary. Your sisters and Lena are paying rapt attention to what the blonde doctor is saying.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ok so in your case you were lucky it was just the stitches, but painful, nonetheless. Dry sockets are a very common complication and can cause the healing time to extend. You did cause damage to the tissue surrounding the incision and I was not able to use stitches to close the gap without risking nerve damage. I use aviente, that is a microfibrillar collagen to help you absorb the blood to reduce the bleeding and accelerate the clot formation. I know this is a lot of information and maybe you can feel a little out of sorts due to the pain medication, but I like to explain everything to my patients.”

You could listen to her voice for hours and being explain anything she wanted to you because you liked her voice very much. You were also sporting a goofy smile towards the blue-eyed doctor while your sisters and Lena took into everything the doctor was saying.

The doctor gave you a warm smile and explained more about your condition to your sisters and Lena, making them feel much calmer now that you were okay and being tended by a very competent specialist. After the incident with your childish tantrum you learnt that Alex was about to leave to get your meds when Lena remembered her friend being back in town and she was an expert in all things dental according to Kara’s explanation. She called Cassandra Sharpe right away and her friend was able to drop everything to help her and be there for you because she knew Lena Luthor would never just call and ask for a favor in such urgent way and that only meant that you were someone very important and dear to Lena. You may be high as a kite right now and drooling like a fool, for obvious reasons, now but you certainly weren’t blind to appreciate how beautiful Cassandra Sharpe truly was. You were taken out of your daydreaming once again by the voice you could become addicted very soon.

Dr. Sharpe: “You need to be very careful Y/N, the next 8 to 12 days you need to follow the indications to a T. No hard or crunchy food, no smoking, no alcohol, no caffeine and avoid excessively greasy foods those can irritate and create infections in the tooth cavity. I noticed the drinking bottles Lena got you, those are great, please don’t let her use any kind of straws or bottles that requires suction those are a very hard no, they can easily dislodge the blood clot and that is what we are trying to prevent from happening at all cost. From what I can tell your pain tolerance is almost nonexistent and that would only create a horrible painful experience for you. Taking into consideration what I read and heard from Alex about your medical history, you can have complications due to the poor capacity for your blood to clot. The aid I use is designed to help create the clot but that takes time and you will have literally two open blood oozing wounds inside your mouth. I’m leaving a list and indications of everything you need to know, I’m getting you guys my direct line so if you have any questions or concerns you can call me right away or Lena can get ahold of me. But in the case, she is busy you can easily reach out to me. Y/N You can’t do any kind of exercise, heavy lifting, no strenuous activities even too much walking can be harmful. Try to relax and chill on the couch or your bed for the next 48 hours”

You knew your helicopter sisters and super protective Lena wouldn’t let you lift a finger in the near future. You sighed and nodded to the whole speech. You honestly felt like crap for putting your loved ones in this position, just for being stubborn and you were is no rush to be in that kind of pain again, you were going to avoid it at all cost. Besides you liked to see the bright side of things and meeting the gorgeous blonde doctor was something bright alright. Something about her was drawing you like a mot to a flame.

Alex, Kara and Lena were taking on everything Dr. Sharpe was saying like their lives depended on the words being spoken by the blonde woman.

Alex: “We will make sure she follows all your indications, and if I have any questions, I will call you right away. Thank you so much for all your help Doctor Sharpe, I cannot express how thankful we all are you were able to make a house call at such hour and leave all the important activities you probably had to put on hold”

Dr. Sharpe: “nonsenses, what are friend for right? I mean I love Lena like a sister, and she is one of my closest friends. I’ve heard a lot of stories about the wonderful Danvers sisters and I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But work and life kept me from National City and my favorite Luthor over here” She looks to where Lena standing close to Kara and gives her a very honest and tender smile. “I recently moved to National City looking for a less hectic and strenuous life, I love my job and being able to help and learn more about my field of expertise. But you know, there’s a time in your life where you need to stop and think of what you really want and need. I’m not in my 20s anymore and I needed a change. The need to settle down and have more time for me. I also missed Lee so very much, she’s been my family for a very long time, and it’s been years since we could be together in the same city for more than 2 days at the time. I just missed this amazing woman so much I just knew that if I wanted a fresh start and a place to call home it had to be wherever this amazing soul named Lena Luthor would be”

Lena started to tear up at the heartfelt words coming from the doctor, and you could sense Dr. Sharpe was a force to be reckon with and she was definitely someone very special and that she loved Lena fiercely. Wish only increased your need to know more about the blonde woman.

Lena: “Cassie why are you always trying to make me cry you beautiful idiot amazing woman. I have a reputation to uphold you know?” Lena teased and came to where the blonde woman was sitting at the coffee table in front of you and Kara. She gave the blonde a hug and whispered something in her ear that you couldn’t catch. But you saw Dr. Sharpe tear up a bit and nod against Lena’s shoulder. Suddenly you wanted to move Lena away and hold the blonde blue- eyed woman yourself. Ooookay possessive much? Damn those pain meds are really doing a number on you, what the hell? You mentally asked yourself while trying to sit up a bit since you been in a weird angle for a long time on top of Kara. You could swear you heard the words ´I love you too´ being whispered back from the blonde to Lena. You frowned.

This made the women turn in your direction, Kara helped you to sit with your back to her front while Alex kept looking at the exchange between Lena and the doctor and then at you with a smirk on her face.

Dr. Sharpe: “Okay well I guess that was a lot coming from someone you just met” she gives a nervous laugh while discretely removing a tear from her eye and continue with your examination. “And after that mushy festival, I would like to ask you y/n to really take it easy. Drink a lot of fluids and try to eat the food I listed in the sheet I gave your sisters. I will email you a more detailed list so you can have it at hand. I know it sucks no being able to eat many things but trust me y/s, I made sure to list a very good and delicious options, I swear to God and all the deities in heaven that I don’t eat rabbit food like Lena. I actually love food and I always try to make things easy for my patients. I mean they are already in pain and miserable so why make them suffer even more? I don’t like to see any of my patients in pain, that’s one of my main goals, that and to help them have a fast recovery period so they can go back to their normal lives in no time”

Kara: “wow you are a very impressive and dedicated doctor. Thank Rao Lena only has eyes for me, and we trust each other very much otherwise I would feel very intimated by you Doctor Sharpe.” Kara joked and laughs when Lena tries to slap Kara’s arm while still sporting a beaming smile at her girlfriend antics and having all her favorite ladies in the same room.

Dr. Sharpe: “Rao? As in the mythological Indian king?” – asked the blonde quite intrigued.

Everyone froze at that and Kara just giggled and said- “it’s just an expression from where I’m from but anyhoooow…what’s the verdict doctor?” – trying to change the course of the talk back to y/n.

Dr. Sharpe: “Oh, I see. That’s cool. Well Miss Y/N here needs complete and total rest for at least the next 48 hours. I would like to check on your incisions tomorrow just to make sure there’s no sign of nerve damage nor infection. And to try to gauge your pain tolerance while being out of the hard stuff and make sure you get the best option in time and avoid you experiencing any unnecessary pain. The first couple of days are the tricky ones. Reason why if you all are comfortable with, I would like to be your primary dental specialist, I’m not trying to impose or say that your current doctor is inadequate. The surgery was done perfectly. However, my concern comes from the post op care indications and the pain meds you were prescribed. Due to your medical history, the level of pain you experience today was very extreme, you doctor should have been aware of certain details to avoid searing pain based on your records. I’m sure he or she is a very competent doctor, however there are cases where the patient needs a more specialized professional, not to brag, but I am one of those professionals”. – she jokes while pointing a finger to herself.

Dr. Sharpe: “Besides any friends of Lena are friends of mine and I would hate for such a lovely girl like y/n to suffer unnecessary pain if avoidable” - her smile is kind and sincere.

You smile at the goofy doctor while being in awe of the amazing woman she is.

Lena: “Honestly Cassie you are so very humble I’m amazed you head still within the same space of your body and not floating around the streets ” – she says sarcastically with no bite behind her words, just friendly banter among close friends. “In all seriousness thank you so much for everything, I wanted to referred y/n to you as her first option, but you were so busy with the move and seminars that I never thought of asking. And her current doctor is an amazing professional as well, just not as immerse as you are in the studies of nerve damage caused by maxillofacial surgery. Nor the involvement in recent studies of sensory intervention to the face, and the you are pretty much involved in all the branches in mandibular nerve injuries”

Alex: “Absolutely, you seem to know more about what y/n needs right now and we would love for you to continue as her primary periodontist. And we have complete faith in what Lena says, to impress Lena Luthor is not an easy thing to accomplish and she speaks very highly of you. And like you said, a friend of Lena is a friend of ours as well”

Dr. Sharpe: “Perfect, that’s settles it then” – the blonde woman gives a brilliant smile to the women in front of her.

The Danvers sisters were beyond impress, if you could actually move your jaw, it would probably be hanging low near the floor at the amount of words coming out of Lena because, you were smart but that sounds like doctor Sharpe was some sort eminence in dental care. Can this woman be any more perfect?

Lena seems to be super proud of her friend and the way she talks about her work, you know Lena is beyond intelligent and crazy smart, but her friend is looking like a masterpiece created by the Gods themselves. Yes, the drugs she gave you are doing a number on you indeed.

The blonde doctor turns bright red at the words Lena just said and you think is the most wonderful thing to witness. You are in so much trouble.

You began to feel like all energy was leaving your body, you wanted to keep listening to Dr. Sharpe speak but you felt a heaviness take over your body and you still had something odd inside your mouth and all you wanted at the moment was to sleep. You tried to find a better spot within your sister arms and you brought a fist to your eye a clear sign that you were sleepy and about to get fussy.

Kara: “Someone is getting fussy over here. Dr. Sharpe are you all done, or you need her awake for a bit longer?” -Kara asked while traying to cradle you in a way you felt more comfortable.

Dr. Sharpe: “Oh my, I’m so sorry we kept talking and time got away from us. Yes, just hold her head like before and I will remove the mouth peace and apply the antiseptic and anesthetic gel really quick”

Doctor Sharpe was very quick to clean her hands and put on a new pair of latex gloves and very gently you felt your mouth being held again by those soft hands, and nimble fingers remove something spongy feeling that was placed inside your mouth. Then you saw when she grabbed something from a bag you haven’t noticed before and continue to properly finish wherever she was doing at the moment, finally you felt a sort of cold liquid and that was it.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ok all done. Sorry I got distracted for a moment. But you are all set y/n. You can now try to talk if you want but avoid making too much facial movements or prod the gaps with your tongue. I know is tempting, because you may feel a funny sensation around the tissue or just of out curiosity, please don’t do it. Rinse the extraction site with warm salt water 2 times a day for 1 week beginning tomorrow afternoon. Don’t let her take any of the medications on an empty stomach. If for any reason you experience discomfort or any problems, do not hesitate to call Okay?”

Y/N: “Thank you” – you replied very quietly and with a timid voice. Your sisters and Lena found that odd as you are always a ball of sunshine and not really shy. But then you had to do it, because of course you would…

Y/N: “So that means no corn dogs, right?”- you sheepishly asked.

Dr. Sharpe laughs a little – “No, sorry honey. You can’t eat those right now”

Kara and Lena just hide their smirks at the cheeky comment and Alex being the more mature of you all just gives you a look and you know you need to stop right now.

Alex: “Very well, you heard that y/n? no corn dogs and stick to what Dr. Sharpe is saying. You don’t want to be in pain and you will have tasty food options. So, shush you menace”

You sigh in relief that your sister is not really mad, and you honestly don’t want to prolong the time you need for recovery by doing something stupid, again.

Kara: “Okaay on that note, I’m taking this one to her room and tuck her in. Dr. Sharpe you should totally come to our games night, there’s wine, beer, food lots and lots of food and obviously games. We’re not sure when the next one will be though, until y/n right here feels better that’s for sure. But again, thank so much for all you’ve done tonight”

Alex: “Yes, I’ll be there in a moment, I will stay with her tonight. She tends to move in her sleep, like A LOT and I don’t want her hitting her face or putting to much pressure on her cheeks by lying on her side or stomach. If she is being held, she stays still”

Y/N: “No I don’t, Alex don’t say that” – you’re mortified by what your sister just said in front of the hot doctor and you want to hide your embarrassment.

Kara just snorts and Lena shakes her head. However, the blonde doctor seems to be pretty amused by that statement and looks at you with something you can’t quite decipher, she doesn’t look disgusted or mad. Her eyes seem to shine even brighter at that, and a smile so warm directed at you that you feel butterflies in your stomach. You are in so much trouble.

Dr. Sharpe: “You are just the cutest y/n. I think I’m going to have a blast getting to know you all now that I’m in National City. Now Alex, I think that’s a wise choice. An ice pack should be applied to the face as soon as possible, hold it for 20 minutes and then removed it for 20 more. Do it for a few hours, it will help minimize swelling”

Alex: “Of course, we have several ice packs ready. Thank you again for everything and it sure is a pleasure to meet you Doctor Sharpe I hope you can come to our game night; they are pretty fun and stress relivers. You can text us what time is best for y/n check up tomorrow or if you think it’s better for us to take her to your office…”

Dr. Sharpe: “Please, call me Cassandra Dr. Sharpe is way to formal and I would love to join you, just let me know what I need to bring and the time and date. About tomorrow, just call me whenever y/n is awake, and I can come to check on her pain level and make sure the clots are forming. It’s better for her to stay home so I think it’s easier for me to just stop by.”

Lena was looking at the exchange with curiosity, she seems to notice how her doctor friend was being towards y/n, she knew her well and her eyes never sparkle like that. At least not just at anyone and she hasn’t seen that look in a very long time. It was a good luck on her, however Lena was very protective of y/n, so she was going to have a nice long chat with her doctor friend very soon.

y/n was fading fast, so Kara just said a quick goodbye to the blonde doctor and walk out of the room with y/n in her arms while saying something about lunch or food. You weren’t quite sure.

Y/N: “Byeeeee doctor pretty eyes” – you said with a goofy smile and obviously losing all sense of shame and inhibition the sleepier you got. You gave a cute wave and you let yourself being carried away to your room.

The blonde doctor just gave you a big smile and waved back at you.

Dr. Sharpe: “See you tomorrow cutie, sleep tight”

Yes, things were about to get very interesting soon.

Next Part 4: dry sockets...

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

Note: I don't know how or when it happened. The story took a twist without me actually knowing. somehow while thinking about this 3rd part i just kept seeing these scenes playing on my mind and my fingers just kept typing. I just realized how much i written and i was shocked to see it was at least twice the amount of words from the two previous parts. Let me know what you think, I never imagined this story to become so long. But bear with me, this is the first time I have written anything like this and i guess i still need to control my thoughts. Still i kept the same idea of baby Danvers being her silly cute and adorable self while being taken care and dot over her sisters and Lena. I just added something extra that I hope you'd enjoy. Please let me know what you think. I made this fluffier to compensate from the angst on Part 2, However don't think the pain is over (I laugh evilly and I slowly walk away)

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

#baby danvers #baby!danvers #alex x baby danvers #origial character #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor imagine #lena x reader #lena x supergirl #lena luthor #kara x reader #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers #alex danvers #fanfic

40 notes · View notes

sokkastyles · 3 years

Text

I said that I wanted to make a post as a companion to this one about Azula focusing on Zuko, because both the Fire Nation siblings crave authenticity and I was thinking about this in terms of this conversation:

Zuko: Why didn't you tell those guys who we were?

Azula: I guess I was intrigued. I'm so used to people worshiping us.

Ty Lee: They should.

Azula: Yes, I know, and I love it. But, for once, I just wanted to see how people would treat us if they didn't know who we were.

This is during “The Beach” when Ty Lee and Mai are invited to a party by some FN teens and Azula invites herself and Zuko. The teens hilariously tell them that there will be “important people” at the party, not knowing that Azula and Zuko are the prince and princess of the Fire Nation. Zuko asks Azula why she didn’t tell them the truth and she says she wanted to be treated like a normal teenager, for once. In this episode we see Azula trying, and failing, to be the teenage girl she never got to be.

Although Zuko and Azula both want to be seen and understood for who they really are, to embrace an identity that is authentic and real, and be seen and known by others on a level that is authentic and real, Zuko goes about it in a different way than Azula. Zuko’s search for his authentic self has led him to pursue the identity he’s been trying to get back to for three years, his identity as Prince of the Fire Nation. That’s why Zuko wonders why Azula didn’t just tell the boys who they were. If she did, surely they would want them at the party? They are, after all, the Prince and Princess.

Zuko also has a different relationship to his status as royalty not only because he’s been away from home for three years, but because he’s always been told that he wasn’t good enough, that he had to better, that he had to prove he was worthy of the title he was born with. Of course, it’s all built on a lie, the lie of noble birth, but it’s been so ingrained in Zuko (and Azula, but we’re talking about Zuko now) that at the beginning of the series, he was bitter and angry over what he felt he was entitled to that had been taken from him.

Zuko asking Azula why she didn’t just tell the boys who they really were echoes his revelation of his true name to the Earth Kingdom village in “Zuko Alone.”

Zuko: My name is Zuko. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. Prince of the Fire Nation, and heir to the throne.

Old man: Liar! I heard of you! You're not a prince, you're an outcast! His own father burned and disowned him!

Here, Zuko’s announcement of who he is has the opposite effect than what he thought, as he failed to realize that the Earth Kingdom citizens he sought to protect would not look kindly on Fire Nation royalty. This shows Zuko’s desire to get back what he’s lost without a real understanding of his privilege and the crimes his nation has committed against the rest of the world. And the old man’s reaction also has the added bonus of reminding him that even whatever hollow meaning he could have taken from his title is ultimately meaningless, because his father banished him.

And thus, just like Azula, Zuko’s identity is fractured into multiples. The first one is Prince Zuko, heir to the throne. The second one is Zuko the disgraced, scarred, banished, exiled.

There’s also a third which is further broken up into multiples: Blue Spirit, refugee, tea server, that exists in between the two.

Zuko’s narrative is about trying to reconcile these identities into an authentic self, and for much of the series, he is single-mindedly pursuing what he thinks represents his authentic self. That’s why when he finally goes back to the Fire Nation, he tries to be happy with his identity as prince, and embrace it as much as possible. He thinks that telling the guys at the party who he is will impress them (even though it didn’t work the first time), but once he gets there, he feels more out of place than ever.

What’s this? A shot of Zuko’s scar and a mirror, and a guy who represents the kind of guy Zuko could have been if he weren’t who he is? Zuko’s got everything he wanted here. He’s the prince of the Fire Nation, he’s got a girlfriend, his honor restored, and he’s back home, but instead of enjoying himself, he decides to be jealous of this guy. His existential confusion comes out as insecurity over his relationship with Mai, because he can never be sure if he can be himself with Mai, or if Mai even likes his true self. I mean, if he hadn’t agreed to go back to the Fire Nation, if he hadn’t become Prince Zuko again, he would not even have a relationship with her, as he would have been making the journey back as a prisoner.

Zuko’s inability to return to his former identity as prince of the Fire Nation is symbolically represented in his scar. He is permanently marked by the suffering he has undergone, and permanently changed as a result of his experiences. In “The Crossroads of Destiny,” Zuko almost was able to reconcile these two aspects of himself, and to choose for himself which one to embrace. When he meets Katara in the catacombs, he is confronted with what his identity as Prince of the Fire Nation, and the legacy of destruction that goes with it, means to her:

Katara: You're a terrible person! You know that? Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world's last hope for peace! But what do you care? You're the Fire Lord's son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!

Zuko: You don't know what you're talking about!

Katara: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through!

Zuko, of course, objects to being characterized this way, and of course his relationship with his identity as the FIre Lord’s son is much more complicated than Katara knows, but she also is right that he has no idea of the suffering that his people have wrought upon the rest of the world. It’s when Katara brings up her personal loss of her mother, though, that he is able to empathize with her.

Katara: The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

Zuko: I'm sorry. That's something we have in common.

Speaking of mirrored images, Zuko throughout his journey has had his own self-image held up to him and examined through the mirror of other people, one of them being Song, the Earth Kingdom girl who empathized with him over his burn scar. Katara is another, someone who, like him, lost her mother as a child. There are two things here that are an essential part of Zuko’s journey, 1) experiencing the suffering of others which pulls him out of his own self-centered perception, and 2) having his own suffering validated by seeing and meeting other people who have suffered in the same way. Contrast this to the way Azula treats other people’s suffering as not entirely real, calling her brother and her friend’s revelations about themselves in “The Beach” performances while also denying that she cares about her own damaged relationship with her mother. Zuko’s realization that other people’s suffering is real and something he should care about goes hand in hand with realizing that he did not deserve to suffer in the ways that his family has made him suffer. It is Katara’s pain over her mother’s loss that reaffirms that Zuko’s loss of his mother was also real and causes Zuko to realize that he is free to choose his own identity.

Zuko: I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately, I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark.

Katara offering to heal the scar, although well-meaning, ironically sets Zuko back, because it reinforces the idea that the scar is a shameful part of his identity, something that marks him as Zuko the banished prince and separates him from becoming who he truly is. Katara connects with Zuko in a way that is authentic and real, but because Zuko cannot yet reconcile the dichotomy within himself, he ends up making the wrong decision underneath Ba Sing Se, and when Katara says during the fight that she thought he had changed, he tells her that he has, having made a decision about which identity to choose, although he still must take the final steps towards becoming whole by reconciling the two parts of himself personified by the “crossroads” in this episode.

But also essential to Zuko reconciling these two parts of himself is the development in season two of an identity that bridges gap between Prince Zuko and Zuko the banished. This is the Zuko that we see serving tea, working the kind of job that we might expect a normal teenager to work, and beginning to form a picture of himself that is surprisingly domestic. And even though he makes it clear to Iroh that this isn’t what he wants, it’s clear that some part of him craves this. Just as with Azula we see her wishful attempt to inhabit the role of normal teenage girl through going to a party and flirting with a boy, we see Zuko at possibly his most vulnerable and most “normal teenagery” when he is on his date with Jin. And even though it’s Iroh who pushes him to accept the date, we see Zuko reluctantly open up and genuinely enjoy himself.

However, Zuko still cannot experience true authenticity with Jin, as he must hide his Fire Nation identity. He does, however, covertly reveal his firebending to Jin, whose silent acceptance moves him ever so slightly towards an acceptance of his true self. This is ultimately too much for him, however, as once he accepts Jin’s acceptance and reciprocates her feelings he is overwhelmed and retreats, in part because he cannot reveal his true self to her for practical reasons and in part because he isn’t ready to do so on an emotional level.

It is also around this time in the narrative that Zuko sees another reflection of himself. His freeing of Appa is a huge blow to his self-perception, and this causes him to go into a fever during which he has several dreams that reveal parts of his identity or how he sees himself. The first is the image of himself on the Fire Lord throne, devoid of the scar but being controlled by two dragons with the voice of Azula and Iroh. And it’s after this dream that he looks in the mirror and sees himself as...

I’ve mostly seen this scene talked about in terms of Zuko and Aang’s narrative parallels and spiritual link, and it is significant for that reason, but it’s also a reflection of the choice Zuko must make about who he will be. If he is not defined by his identity as either Prince of the Fire Nation or his banishment, or his search for the Avatar, then who is he?

Zuko touching the scar upon waking to reaffirm that he is still himself shows us how much the scar has become a part of his identity. At the end of book two, he flirts with the idea of acceptance, and then with the offer of having it removed, and then when he goes back to the Fire Nation in early book three, he attempts to return to a point before the scar existed, before the fracturing of his identity, but finds that he cannot.

Zuko: During the meeting, I was the perfect prince. The son my father wanted. But I wasn't me.

By going to the war meeting, Zuko returns to the place of his original trauma and discovers that he cannot return to who he was before the fracturing of his identity, and that he, in fact, was never the “perfect prince” to begin with, that that person never existed.

What Zuko eventually comes to realize, through all of these experiences, and through returning to the home of his existence before the scar and finding it no longer a home, is that all of these identities are a part of him.

When he confronts his father on the Day of Black Sun, and then when he presents himself to the gaang, this is the first time that Zuko is being true to his authentic self, both by creating a more whole and positive identity and by accepting the trauma and guilt of his past and trying to atone. Therefore he’s able to create a more true identity and accept his place as Fire Lord without the cognitive dissonance that that identity brought him before.

#zuko #atla meta

29 notes · View notes

lostsoulaltair · 4 years

Text

OnS Theories (13S). Second Theory (Special Theory and Analysis) - Sika Madu and Shinoa, the journey and their relation with Yuichiro

Hello everyone, I hope everyone’s doing well! This is the 2nd theory and the last I post for the moment until a new chapter comes for the manga story; in the meantime I’ll be thinking more about it and perhaps update, but nevertheless, I’d like to thank everyone for their constant support!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vfcrC87v8A

NOTE: You might wonder why I gave the theory such title when I don’t involve ships. As I’ve stated so far, ships aren’t included in theories; the theory itself will focus on the reasons why these two characters ended up interacting or meeting along the fact that a third party mostly known as Shikama Doji, is involved with this.

Therefore, let’s begin!

Shinoa Hiragi and Yuichiro Hyakuya are well known to be the main lead protagonists of Vampire Reing Story; of course, that doesn’t mean everything resolves around them; every character is important within the story. But then, why do I state that Sika Madu and Shinoa have made a journey?

First of all, in older theories, I’ve stated that Shinoa is literally a part of Shikama Doji or a reflection, what do I mean?

Shinoa has a lot of mannerism Shikama has and that’s not because he influences her decisions, instead, it’s more that her personality was molded towards what Shikama or Sika Madu is like but with one sole difference, what kind of difference you might ask.

There’s a reason why Shinoa is the perfect vessel for Shikama Doji and this is because there’s compatibility, Shinoa was a being that lacked lively emotions,furthermore it was stated by Shikama that she herself is a part of him.

But, to give you a better idea why they are alike, there two pictures below speak about their way of speaking:

Now, you might perhaps believe the author is likely to repeat speeches but so far, those two are the only ones that have a similar way of speech whenever their dialogues appear.

Therefore, those two are two sides of the same coin.

Now, focusing more into the theory, you might wonder why I stated a journey, therefore, let’s start explaining about it.

Sika Madu’s journey and relation with Yuichiro

Sika Madu, before he revealed his true colors to Ashera Tepes, was displayed as a kind buyer, he made sure Ashera and Yu ate; but now, why do I state there was a journey and relation with Yu?

Sika Madu long ago used to use Yu as a test subject for his experiments, it can be said that the Yu from the past was made out of his real blood (The blood of the angel Michaela, the one sleeping in the coffin) or certain composition that gave autonomy to Yuichiro which might actually explain why the Yu from Greece wasn’t very smart as for the aspect for his memories, it was due to the fact Yuichiro was killed along the fact that he was cloned when the experiments Sika Madu performed wiith persons he bought ended up in failure.

Still, what kind of journey did Sika Madu have with Yu?

Despite Sika being centered on his goals and experiments, he displayed a kind demanor, he was aware of human behavior and was quite intrigued by how Yu evolved once he was able to create young vampires; furthermore, it can be said that Sika Madu learnt more about how humans behaved, what their natural reactions were, their traits along the fact that he was aware that the vampires he sired adquired more traits than an average human.

But, within this journey, before leaving the progenitor council, he was focused on creating a new Michaela vessel, which is why the vampires that ended up being turned by him or by Yu’s blood in Ashera’s case were failures in terms to achieve becoming Michaela.

Once he found that a future vessel would give him what he required, he decided to leave the Progenitor Council and take Ashera Tepes with him for being the first vampire that wasn’t turned by him.

As for his relation with Yu, well, it can be implied that the way he saw Yu was nothing less than a test subject but was surprised by the changes Yu had within time; such surprise can be seen in chapter 74 when he calls Yu as a supposed empty vessel.

Shinoa Hiragi’s journey and relation with Yuichiro

Shinoa Hiragi was born as the youngest one in the Hiragi Family, she received the training other Hiragi received but, compared to her siblings, she was locked down from human sight except for Mahiru and Guren until the end of the world came in.

Shinoa was a person that ended up learning to grow alone, she didn’t get to experiment the warm love of a family, furthermore, when she got Shikama Doji back, she felt completed, as if the missing piece of hers came back to her.

Shikama Doji of course, told her about her desires along dreams she has deep within her heart but of course, Shinoa learnt very well how to make her heart being unreachable for demons, which is why he referred to her as the perfect vessel that could ever exist.

With the pass of time, eventually Shinoa was able to meet Yuichiro Hyakuya; it can be said that at the beginning, she saw him as another person she had to watch so said person could enter in the demon army, of course, such thing ended up in the creation of the Squad we’ve come to known within the story.

Within this, Shinoa taught Yu to be patient, to follow orders so there wouldn’t be deaths within the squad and family they ended up building with Mitsuba, Yoichi and Kimizuki; eventually, Mika and Narumi.; but, at the same time, Yu taught her the values of being a human, the meaning of treasuring those around you, the concept of a family, and furthermore, something within Shinoa grew, which is “love”.

Of course, many believe Shinoa is a lustful person because Shikama Doji in chapter 66 and 67 stated Shinoa’s lust would overcome her but, why do I imply that’s not the case?

To begin with, Shinoa within the story, started to learn what it meant to be human, furthermore, the emotions she experiments are something new for her, she doesn’t know what to think of said emotions, which is why she’s awkward whenever Yu got too close to her.

NOTE: Theories don’t involve ships.

Shinoa so far has displayed a selfless “love”. What do I mean?

She’s worried about Yu’s well being, and since he is the one that taught her the concept of a family, taught her the value of a human life along other details, she’s willing to put in practice what she’s been learning.

To certain extend, it can be said that she shows admiration towards Yu’s will and how he faces the world so he can achieve what he wishes for.Thus, it can be said that the emotion she feels so far is respect towards Yu’s will and a caring side that was eventually born within her.

Now, perhaps many might wonder where exactly is the journey between these two. The journey itself are the many adventures the squad has had, the new additions, new beginnings, losses, moments of sadness, etc. Along the fact, that both have learnt from each other to grow more

Now, once stated these two points, there’s something Shikama and Shinoa share in common, what could it be?

Correct. Both have shared time with Yuichiro, both have viewed and learnt some things from him in a different manner; but then, does this mean Shinoa will eventually use Yu?

Of course not; despite the fact that I’ve stated Shinoa and Shikama are two faces of the same coin; there’s a huge gap between them, but what kind of gap?

First of all, Shinoa Hiragi is like the human side of Shikama Doji/Sika Madu, I mean, despite her being able to use the power she harbors or her being able to use her position as a Hiragi, she chose a different lifestyle, she didn’t focus on going through a path of ambition or keeping up with human experiments, instead, she seeks to put an end to the messed up world she and the others live in.

Furthermore, despite being possessed by the first, Shinoa’s mindset hasn’t changed, her goal is still firm along her mission, which is to ensure the squad ends up alive and survives; along the fact the end up finding a way to ensure their safety and priorities.

What do you think guys? Do you believe Shinoa might end up losing herself or not? Do you believe she has the power to actually turn the tables against the first? What are your thoughts about her or her future?

Let me know!

29 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XLVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I feel like I go from ‘This is just a fun fluffy chapter with a nice picnic :)’ to ‘This is a bloodbath, you will cry and you will hate me.’ That’s cool -Danny

Words: 4,444 (this is aesthetically pleasing omg)

Warnings: Corpses, blood, trauma.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Seven: New Lessons.

"Hey, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan during their Potions class that Thursday morning, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" said Harry and Ron.

"Not too far from here- It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here..." Ron looked over at Harry and Mel. Then he caught Malfoy staring and sneered. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

The boy had returned with his arm covered in bandages, he didn't need them of course, but no one seemed to notice. Snape forced Ron and Harry to do the hard work for him, so he was sitting on their table.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?" He asked with a taunting smile.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said, not really paying attention.

"Of course, if it was me," Malfoy continued quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"Are you sure you wouldn't be crying under your bed?" Mel asked through greeted teeth.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron frowned.

"Don't you know, Potter?" Malfoy's eyes examined his expression.

"Know what?"

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," Malfoy shrugged. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked with a lack of patience.

"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..." Snape said to the class.

They walked over to the gargoyle sink, Harry whispering his doubts to them.

"What did Malfoy mean? Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me — yet."

"He's making it up," said Ron. "He's trying to make you do something stupid..."

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Mel scoffed.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, he was next to Neville and Hermione's table, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!- Where is she?"

Harry and Mel turned. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"She was right behind us..."

Malfoy passed them between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked, and it took a great deal from her to not throw a shoe at his head.

"There she is," said Harry suddenly, pointing at the end of the stairs.

"How did you do that?" said Ron.

"What?" said Hermione, joining them.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But —" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Harry.

"Maybe she's just carrying them to study between classes?" Mel offered, but she didn't actually believe that what she said was the whole truth.

A student approached her, he pocked her shoulder and gave her a note.

"Professor Dumbledore told me to give you this," He told her, going away as soon as he'd said it.

"Oh?" She unfolded the note. "Oh! It's my lesson!"

"What does it say?" Ron leaned over to read, forgetting about Hermione.

"He'll meet me tonight after dinner," Mel squirmed in her place, excited. "Can't wait!"

"Do you have any idea of what he'll be teaching us for our first class?" Hermione asked her anxiously.

Mel had told them (in utter secrecy) that Professor Lupin was sort of related to her, she didn't have to, but Ron and Hermione were her best friends along with Harry, and she wanted to be honest.

"I haven't talked to him since our first day," She tilted her head, "but I haven't heard bad things about him, so I trust he'll be good."

Professor Lupin entered the room just then, looking way better than the first night.

"Good afternoon," He said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

The kids shared curious and excited looks as they obliged, wondering what the man may be planning. Once they were ready he glanced around and nodded.

"Right then, if you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms." Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!" and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

She'd only seen him do magic once or twice during her summer, but it was all domestic, little spells. This demonstration was the first thing Mel witnessed on her uncle's abilities, and she was intrigued, to say the least.

They stopped outside the staffroom and their Professor invited them in, they found Snape sitting in one of the armchairs, however, he stood up to leave.

"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Mel scowled at the man in front of her, she couldn't believe that such a nasty person could teach at school. Professor Lupin didn't miss a beat.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" Her friend offered.

"Precisely. It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please . . . riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!"

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The boy -quite bravely, if Mel would say so- stepped forward, trembling from head to toe.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

He mumbled out something, but no one could hear.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," Professor Lupin replied, smiling politely.

"Professor Snape."

All the kids laughed, however, their Professor only nodded, deep in thought.

"Professor Snape... hmmm... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er — yes. But — I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

"Well... always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress... green, normally... and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes?"

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry 'Riddikulus' — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

"Oooh!" Mel exclaimed in her place, she couldn't wait to see that. And judging by the chuckles and nervous smiles of her classmates, neither could them.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

Mel froze.

What was she afraid of?

The dark, perhaps- No, she didn't mind waking up at night and walking alone to the toilet. Insects? No... they were small, weak things. They couldn't hurt her...

Hurt.

She knew a thing or two about pain, there were worse things than spiders or ladies in white nightgowns and black, dirty hair. There are murderers, and death.

Death. Not hers... around her.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

She heard the rest of the students mumbling an agreement.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward... Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One — two — three — now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"R — r — riddikulus!" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising —

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

There she stood as the rest of the class faced their fears, and it was one of the funniest things she'd ever seen. The energy in the room was simply so full of life... And then it was her turn.

She stood above Dean's fear -a severed hand- and waited.

Crack!

Her mother laid dead on the floor- Crack! Dumbledore's corpse was in front of her- Crack! Ron's body- Crack! Hermione-

It changed so fast that she couldn't focus on what she was supposed to say.

'Say it!' She begged to herself, 'Say it before it turns into your uncle! Say it!'

Riddikulus. Riddikulus. Riddikulus...

Crack!

Harry's eyes were staring right at her, eyes wide open in fear, but lifeless.

RIDDIKULUS!

ZAP!

Dashing blue sparks blew out of her wand and, with no warning, the boggart fell back at her feet, this time as a rubber duck.

Professor Lupin exclaimed with wide eyes, "Miss Dumbledore... you know non-verbal spells?"

"I don't..." She was so shocked about her actions that her panic sounded like utter calmness, her eyes fixed on the duck.

"Outstanding..." Her uncle said with a strange glint in his eyes.

Mel stepped back, holding her wand tightly with both hands.

Harry and Mel were quite uneasy after class, the former because their Professor tackled his chance with the boggart with no explanation, and her because, well, it was never easy to see your loved ones dead.

Almost all of the class had left the classroom happy and talkative, but whenever their eyes landed on her they'd go pale, not daring to talk about what they'd seen.

She understood, of course. They saw Dumbledore and several of their classmates' bodies, it wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes. She didn't know how dark her mind could go until the boggart showed it. She got up from the Gryffindor table until most of the students were gone, Dumbledore was waiting for her at the entrance, ready for their first lesson.

"Good evening," He said gently. "Follow me, please."

She didn't speak until Dumbledore mentioned her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"Professor Lupin had the kindness to let me know that today you managed to do a non-verbal spell," He started. "Are you aware of its meaning?"

"No," She said shortly. "I'm aware that it can't be normal."

"We teach non-verbal spells to our students, most are quite capable by the time they turn sixteen," there was something else to what he was saying, "But it's a difficult thing to accomplish being so young... how old are you, if I can ask?"

"Thirteen," She mumbled, and before she could stop herself she added, "I got scared! I tried to say it but I'd never seen it so... so real. I'm sorry-"

"What you did is nothing to be sorry, my dear girl," Dumbledore smiled, "your mind focused on the spell you needed and your wand did it for you. You might feel that it was completely unplanned, but I believe you're improving."

"You really think so?" She asked.

"I assume you read the books I gave you this summer," The man stopped in front of a Gargoyle statue, looked right at it and said, "Butterbeer."

The statue moved and revealed a set of stairs, Dumbledore signaled her to go through and she obeyed. Her thoughts were soon cut short when she came face to face with a large, wooden door. Dumbledore stepped forward and opened it, he turned to smile kindly at her and say, 'Come in' before closing the door behind both of them.

She remembered Harry describing a little how the office looked, he'd been sent there last year, when people thought he was the one causing the attacks on Muggleborns. The room was welcoming and warm, full of strange objects and books that she wanted to examine more carefully. However, she was there for a reason, and they needed to start right away.

She spotted Fawkes next to the desk and her heart jumped with happiness, she was quite fond of him. Fawkes flew swiftly across the room and landed on her shoulder, gently stroking her cheek with his head.

"I have taken the liberty to ask the staff what are their thoughts on your progress as a student," Dumbledore mentioned as he walked towards a closet. "Most of them think you're promising and have no complaints..."

"Most of them?" She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Professor Snape, I think, holds his expectations high," Dumbledore smiled. "Do not take it as an insult, even him can be convinced of your abilities."

"Doubt it," She said under her breath, lovingly patting Fawkes.

"Please take a seat," Dumbledore pointed to the chair in front of his.

As she sat down, Fawkes went back to his place behind Dumbledore's chair.

"Tonight I want to work with your intuition," Dumbledore put two small boxes in front of her, "I think you know Professor Trelawney?"

"Yes," Mel tried to remain neutral. "I've assisted to her class."

"Very well. What I want you to do is something similar to what she asks, I want you to clear your head and feel- not think- feel, whatever these boxes may contain."

"I'm not a seer," She said quickly, having the bad feeling that she was about to fail her first lesson.

"It is not Divination," The old man soon calmed her, "it can be perceived as the same, but you won't use your mind for this bit, you'll be using your attraction to the power these boxes hold inside, and what kind of emotions you perceive."

"Oh," She frowned, unsure. "Okay, then."

"Take one of the boxes," Mel chose the one on the left, "and close your eyes, let the magic you own and the one in the box meet, take as much time as you need."

Now was not the time to let fear take the best of her, she was there to learn and she was going to learn. She took a deep breath, and sank in the loneliness of the dark behind her eyelids.

Mel knew that if she kept counting the seconds the stress would block the purpose, so she forgot about it. It could be two, three hours... she wasn't leaving that office without any results.

Then she felt it: a hard tug on her stomach and suddenly she recognized the energy, even if she hadn't seen, or heard it before. It seeped through her, blinding her for just a moment.

Light. Whatever it was inside that box was created to keep light and share it with its surroundings. She knew it, and so she told her great-uncle.

When she opened her eyes he was smiling at her.

"May I?" He pointed to the box, and she handed it over.

She blinked a few times, her eyes getting used to the illuminated room.

Dumbledore opened it and pulled out what looked like a lighter.

"This is a deluminator," He offered it back for her to hold, "it can take the sources of light from the room-"

As he explained this, Mel actioned it and suddenly they were sitting in the middle of a dark room, all the lights immediately flying to it.

"Oops," She said quietly.

She heard a low chuckle, and Dumbledore's hand gently reaching for the deluminator.

"However, it can also give it back," A soft click was heard, and the lights returned to their rightful place. "And in some cases, it can light one's path, clarify the way towards a big decision."

Mel nodded, then her hands reached the last box.

"Should I?"

Dumbledore's eyes shone in the candlelight, he had both hands in front of his face, as if he was pondering her answer, perhaps doubting her, though she didn't know why.

"Your fear..." Dumbledore replied, "you're allowed to not answer my next question if you don't wish to explain yourself... Has it always been death?"

Mel was taken by surprise, but she didn't think it was hard to answer.

"I don't think so," She played with the edge of her robes, "I don't remember having nightmares about it as a kid, not even about my dad... I think it started when, uh- well, after my first year here."

Dumbledore remained silent. Processing her answer, he nodded once.

"Harry and you have shared your own amount of adventures, and most of them had been nerve-wracking. I also know you want to protect your loved ones, you have that in common with your parents."

Mel waited for him to continue, his mind somewhere else.

"Ardent tempter, both of them. Emily wasn't patient with unkind behavior, even if she wasn't a saint herself during her school years. Matthew, on the other hand, picked his battles carefully– I believe he was pressured to do so, our family had its own fame, known for taking a few bad decisions from time to time... He tried to step away from it, to be perceived differently... I'm proud to say he succeeded."

"Sir?" Mel asked shyly. "Are you... Do you think I won't?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all, Mel. I believe you'll become something bigger than any of us ever could. Not a lot of people know this, but the women in our family have always been stronger than any men. Unfortunately, they're also more sensitive. Dumbledore women are bound to be the ones with big sacrifices in life, but also the ones with brighter minds and stronger wills. I believe that you've inherited their power, as much as their disposal to use it for others, or in the least, to protect others with it."

That was a massive piece of information.

"I think that your fear isn't death, but to fail on what you've decided to do, which is to protect your family and keep them safe. Believe me when I tell you, dear girl, that if you follow these lessons, you won't."

Finally, a clear answer to the question she feared most. She looked down at the untouched box and held it with determination. It took her less time than expected, only because she knew exactly what it was as soon as her magic and the one inside the box mixed together.

She hated it. Not the feeling, no. She loathed the object inside, and the hatred was mutual somehow- it filled her with anguish and a bitter taste in her tongue, its magic was dark, lethal.

"Riddle's diary," She stated, her hands shaking under the weight of its energy.

She put the box on the table, as far as she could from her body.

She recognized the feeling because she'd held the book once or twice last year. Of course, last year she wasn't paying much attention, but that night, with her radar all the way up like a radio finding the clearest station, it felt contaminating, blistering to the touch.

Dumbledore didn't bother to open the box. His expression, while serious, reflected triumph.

"That's all for today." He replied calmly.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @kylosleftbuttcheek @steve-thotgers @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @thesuitelifeofafangirl

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #hermione granger #ron weasley #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #Remus Lupin #WITT fic

21 notes · View notes

smokeybrandreviews · 4 years

Text

Malpractice

I wanted to write a proper review of Ratched on Netflix. I powered through those first eight episodes and had opinions. My notes were as plentiful as the plots holes and abandoned narrative threads in the show, itself. I wanted to give an honest opinion on what i saw but, as i began to type out my impressions, realized how conflicted i am about this show. I enjoyed what i watched but it wasn’t good. I loved the narrative we were given but this doesn’t like up with what we know about the could One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest built in both book and film form. I love how this thing is shot, the use of color and atmosphere to distinguish but it’s in stark contrast to the bleak, plain, feel of the original story. I loved watching this show but i hated every bit of the content. How was this possible? Why did this show resonate and alienate at the same time?

I actually had to stop writing my review and think about this contradiction. I don’t speak much about this aspect of my life, but i am a voracious reader. I love stories. I love literature. I’ve digested all of the classic, some more than once. I’ve read Clockwork and Lolita as well all the requisite Shakespeare and Marlowe. I’ve consumed Orwell, Austen, Tennyson, Hemingway, Capote, and Twain. I adore Wells, Plato and Dante while respecting the craft of Rowling, even if i don’t particularly like or agree with her politics. My tastes run the gambit which allows me to recognize great storytelling in other media. That’s probably why i enjoy RPGs and cinema so much. Some of my favorite books are The Illiad, War of the Worlds, The Count of Mote Cristo, Dante’s Inferno, The DaVinci Code, and, more to the point, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I love that book and have read it several times. It’s an absolute classic. It’s film adaption is one of the best I've ever seen and it’s in that understanding that i realized why i hate Ratched so much. This ain’t her. This ain’t the same character or story or world. This show is something wholly different, masquerading as something that i know and love.

Ratched is a derivative Bates Motel clone, dressed up in Ryan Murphy’s familiar aesthetic, slathered in a superficial coat of Cuckoo paint. There is a distinct Hitchcockian influence that runs through this entire production, but one that clumsily steals not reverently homages. Calling Ratched, American Horror Story: Poor Man’s Hitchock, is not far from the truth. That's both good and bad. Independently, this is a dope show. The characters are compelling. There’s enough melodrama to keep you interested. Certain levels of intrigue beguile the audience into returning episode after episode. And I'd definitely be lying if i said this show wasn’t some of the most gorgeous production i have ever seen. Ratched is f*cking gorgeous. But, just like Murphy’s flagship AHS, there is no substance under all of that shine. I’ve heard a lot of reviewers comment about how, as a period piece, it should be more faithful to the racial tension of the era but that stuff doesn’t bother me as much. If this was some sort of re-enactment, like an autobiography, I'd expect that level of realism. But this sh*t is a fever dream recalled through a Mildred Ratched filter so you have to take that sh*t with a grain of salt. It’s unfortunate that the entire show was produced with a whole lot of salt. I enjoyed what i watched, divorced from what it’s pretending to be.

If Ratched was it’s own weird, period, macabre, bloodbath, then sure, I can see this narrative working on it’s own. It would definitely work better as part of an established franchise like AHS. That’s what this show is. As a Cuckoo's Nest prequel, it's f*cking awful. I love Sarah Paulson. She's f*cking exceptional at her craft and doesn't disappoint here. Her Ratched, however, is not the same woman from the film and definitely not the character from the book. I stated before that One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is one of my favorites. Nurse Ratched is my favorite character in that story, after Chief. I know more about her, who she is, how she feels, than i do McMurphy, and it’s his f*cking story to tell. The character presented in this show is not the character presented in the original narrative. I understand that Ratched takes place several years before we meet her in Cuckoo but there is such a stark discrepancy between the two characters that they simply cannot be the same woman. I cannot see Paulson’s Ratched growing into the book’s Ratched. This Ratched is is completely different in both demeanor and presentation. They are near opposites. There is just way too much thematic dissonance to bridge these two characters organically and no amount of scripted episodes will ever be able to broach that gap. This show missed the entire point of who Ratched is supposed to be. This is the origin story of a serial killer, not a dictator. This Ratched could become the Hannibal Lecter, not Joseph Stalin.

This ain't Nurse Ratched but it's still a pretty dope character to see and Paulson plays her mad sinister. The world around Paulson’s impostor is rich with conflict, drama, and tension. It fails as a period narrative in so many ways but, using that era as more of a loose framing for a cast that is way more diverse than it would have any right to be if this was true to the time, works. There are great costumes an sets that ring true to the look of that time. Even if it's just an artificial facade, all of it is incredibly easy on the eyes. This show carries some pretty strong characters outside of Paulson’s impostor, all performed just as great, all worth experiencing. I can’t say that i was completely gripped by the plot but i wasn’t overly hateful of it either. I mean, i was at first, but the second i stopped thinking of this thing as a Cuckoo prequel and more of an AHS loosely based on the book, i was okay with it. Ratched is an easy, gorgeous, watch filled with enough character shenanigan to keep you engaged as long as you can disconnect from the source material and accept that Ryan Murphy is TV’s Zack Snyder. I wasn't impressed with the first season but I liked it enough that I won't fight about it getting a second.

#Ratched #Netflix #American Horror Story #One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

7 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 8: Sweet 25

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Y/N feels alone at Harry’s birthday party.

Warning: angst that took a slightly unexpected turn, jealous passive-aggressive Harry.

Word count: 8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 7: Behind The Scenes - Movies and actors aren’t what they appear to be.

Wattpad link

"Look what I've got!"

Harry flopped down on the treehouse floor and proudly showed his little neighbor the silver signet ring on his left hand. Though it just remotely fit his thumb, Y/N thought it made him look so cool, like an adult. Besides, it was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen, much more beautiful than her parents' wedding bands.

"My dad gave it to me for my birthday," he said smugly, pulled it off his finger and showed her the word STYLES engraved on the inside.

"It's so shiny!"

"Of course it is! It's silver!" The thirteen-year-old chuckled as he put the ring back on.

Y/N paused for a second. "Wait, your dad came back?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "He mailed the ring to my house."

Though he acted like it was no big deal, Y/N knew he was disappointed. She personally wouldn't want the mailman to deliver her birthday present from someone she loved. But of course, she wasn't going to make that comment.

"That's great!" the girl exclaimed to lighten the mood. "It means you have your dad's address now, you can exchange letters with him!"

"Nah, mum won't give me his address. I'm surprised she let me keep the ring." He gave her a shrug, frowning a little.

"Don't be sad," she told him. "At least he loves you and still thinks of you."

"Yeah, I guess," he said, this time the corners of his mouth turned up.

"And tomorrow is your birthday! Let's throw a party here! I'll decorate this treehouse and ask my mum to bake you some cookies—"

Harry cut her off, "actually, my mum's gonna throw me a party."

"Oh..." With that, her face fell. She fidgeted with her pigtails and thought for a second before glancing back up to meet his eyes. "I suppose you've already invited lots of people?"

"Yeah."

That answer made the little girl sad. She'd almost forgotten that Harry was a popular kid who had plenty of friends. Meanwhile, she only had two, him and Celine. That explained why she'd spent her tenth birthday with just the two of them. Harry's birthday, however, would probably be massive and exciting. Too bad she would not be a part of it.

"What's wrong, Bambi?" He gave her a grin and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's all right, you're also invited. In fact, your name is first on the list."

"But your friends are all older than me." She pouted. "I won't be able to talk to anyone at your party."

"Well, it's my party. You can talk to me."

Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at the boy. "You sure you're gonna talk to me the entire time and ignore the other guests?"

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't promise her that. So he exhaled and plastered a beam on his face. "Okay, how's this? Let's celebrate my birthday today with just you and me. The party tomorrow is for everyone, you can also come if you change your mind. But today, you're my one and only guest."

"Really?" The way Y/N's face lit up made Harry's grin grow twice bigger.

He nodded quickly. "You take care of the food and I'll go buy some decorations. We'll meet back here at three?"

"Deal!" she said happily, gave him a fist bump and ran back to the rope ladder.

Ever since they got together, Harry had spent more time at Y/N's place than his London house. Though she refused to let him help pay the rent (by help, he probably meant him paying it all for her), she loved to think that they were sharing a flat. What could be more special than going home after a long day at the bookstore just to cuddle him, and rant about her day so he could rant about his? They would do boring couple things like cook together, order in, watch lame movies, sometimes his (lame) movies, and have a lot of sex. Life was great.

Tonight, she was reading when he emerged at her bedroom door after finishing washing the dishes. She didn't look at first, but he was just idling there instead of coming bed, leaving her no choice but to give him some attention.

"I'm in the middle of an important scene now, so if you're gonna do a striptease, please do it fast."

"What's the point of doing a striptease if you do it fast?" He chuckled and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "Don't mind me, I'm just admiring your beauty from afar."

"Great, keep doing that, my narcissistic ass loves it." She grinned and turned her eyes back on the page.

"They got together yet?" He asked.

"No." She shrugged. "They've only kissed. But I've read too many books like this so I can totally guess what happens next."

"Yeah? Tell me," he said with a lopsided grin. "I'm intrigued."

His weird emphasis on the word cracked her up. Harry successfully caught the pillow she threw at him and then jumped right on top of her, squeezing her with the tightest hug. She let him nuzzle her neck like a kitten and went on, "so...my guess is that he'll do something stupid in the next chapter, she'll get hurt, and he'll realize what an idiot he is, so he'll do something romantic to win her back. But a good story doesn't just stop there."

"Wow, tell me more." He lied on his stomach and rested his chin on his knuckles, like a child listening to bedtime stories.

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to be serious. "Okay so, the antagonist will try to sabotage their relationship. It could be a bitter ex or strict parents that don't support them. But of course, those people all fail, and the couple will soon realize how much they love each other, then and only then will they have their happy ending."

Harry cackled as he sat up and kissed her lips. "What's the point of reading if you can already guess what's gonna happen?"

"What matters is how it happens, silly." She snorted and closed her book. "Now, where's my striptease?"

"Why should I give you a striptease when tomorrow's my birthday?"

"Tomorrow's your birthday?!" She faked a dramatic gasp but did not get the reaction she wanted from him.

"Nice try." He chuckled. "There's no way you forgot my birthday."

"I did though."

"Oh yeah?" Holding her by the hips, he guided her to straddle his lap and pulled down the spaghetti straps of her top, so he could spread his kisses across her chest. She tossed her head back, her lips parted to release the heavenly sensual sound of his name. Just the sight of her going weak for him had got him all riled up. "I was gonna tell you not to get me anything." His voice was dangerously low. "But thank God you don't remember my birthday."

She pulled away, her face contorted. "Wait, why can't I get you a birthday present?"

"Because all I need is right here." He tickled her sides, and she collapsed on his chest, laughing so hard that her eyes watered.

"Stop it, asshole!" she shouted when he stopped the torture. As his hands fell back to her thighs, she held his face between her palms. "But seriously, why? We used to always get each other birthday presents."

"I know you, Bambi. You'd overspend on my birthday because you think you should get me something expensive."

"First of all, I don't think so. Second, I already got you something, and it's not expensive at all."

"Really?" He stroked her hair. "What is it? Show me now?"

"I'll show you tomorrow night."

"Ooooh, did you buy new sexy lingerie for me?" He snuck one hand under her nightgown to squeeze her ass, but she seized his wrist before he made another move.

"Nope, it's better." To his disappointment, she placed his hand on her hip instead. "You'll be so happy you'll burst into tears, baby."

"Aww, I'm already overjoyed," he said, pulling her down, her head was on his chest. He stroked his hand steadily up and down her back, meanwhile rearranging his thoughts and making room for a bit of silence before he spoke again. "You're not throwing me a surprise party, are you?"

Her eyelids shot up when she heard the question. "No," she lied.

"Good." Harry nodded, still staring at the ceiling. "Because I want you to come with me to the party at Jeff's house tomorrow night."

"Your manager's throwing you a birthday party?"

"Kind of."

Shit.

"I told him not to, but he insisted on doing it. He and the cast and crew of the movie I'm working on had been planning it for weeks." He combed his fingers through his hair and blew up his cheeks. "I'm actually nervous. I've been told many important people are on the guest list."

Y/N propped her head up, her nose crinkled. "I bet this is Ruby's idea."

"Why do you hate Ruby so much?" he asked, sounding amused. "I know she wasn't so nice to you when you met her at my place, but that was mainly my fault, love."

His oblivion was really bugging her. She almost blurted out that Ruby had shown up at her place and offered her money to break up with him. But at the same time, she didn't want him to know that. He still had to play Ruby's love interest in this new film. Y/N didn't know much about acting, but she knew actors needed to get along in real life to deliver great chemistry in romantic scenes. The last thing she wanted was to create tension between him and his co-star that would affect his performance.

Immediately, she shrugged off the thought and pursed her lips. "Fine. I'm sorry I'm so bitter that I dislike your ex."

"Hey, I didn't mean that." He held her hips down when she attempted to get off his lap. "I love you, you know I do. I just don't want you to think about my past with her all the time. It means nothing to me now. You, on the other, mean everything. That's why I want you to go to this party with me. I need your support." He could see it in her eyes that she was a bit reluctant, so he continued, "You said you were curious about my life as an actor, right? This could be a fun experience for you. And you might meet an actor or actress that you like there."

A part of Y/N was still unsure, but how could she say no when he was giving her those puppy dog eyes?

"Okay, fine." She gave in. "But I'll wear my clothes and drive there on my own. Do not spend your money on me."

"Deal!" he gleefully said and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Y/N returned to the treehouse at 3 PM, only find her friend sitting in the corner with his head on his arms. Harry heard her footsteps and looked up, his smile was turned upside down. He looked like he was going to cry, and Y/N had never seen Harry cry before, so she didn't know what to do. Swallowing hard, she took quiet steps toward the boy and sat down right by his side. The happy and fun birthday decorations were the opposite of the gloominess cast upon the two kids.

"W-what happened?" she asked.

Harry let out the longest sigh before he spoke, "I lost the ring."

It was only then that she noticed his empty thumb where his father's ring had been. She waited for him to start crying, but he didn't, even though his lips were quivering and his eyes were glossy. Y/N had always thought wanting to cry but not being able to was the worst kind of self-torture. She knew that, because during many fights with her dad, her mother had held back her tears to the point where agony was etched on her face.

"Hey, it's alright." Y/N patted his arm gently. "You might've dropped it somewhere. When was the last time you had it?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, holding his head and thinking for a long moment until he was calm enough to remember. "I guess...it was an hour ago, maybe? I ran to the store to buy some candles."

The girl stood up right away and offered him her tiny hand. "Come on," she said. "Let's go search for your ring!"

Though Y/N hated inconsequent polite conversations and the awful mixture of expensive perfume that gave her a headache, she had to say that this party had exceeded her expectations. Everything here screamed rich. Most of the guests were A-list celebrities. There were people serving canapes, wine, and expensive cocktails. And they were playing her favorite songs (she assumed her boyfriend might have had something to do with this). Harry's manager Jeff had really outdone himself this time.

Before arriving, Y/N had thought only Harry's friends had been invited. But it seemed like Jeff had made sure all the big names in the film industry in London were there tonight. She recognized most of these people and she didn't watch that many movies. Maybe she should have gone out to buy the most expensive dress she could afford, and not shown up in this lame long sleeve bodycon dress that made her look like the cheapest walking being in the room. If Celine had been there, she would've screamed at her to go change. But maybe Celine would've got distracted, freaked out and fainted the second she saw her favorite actor, Cohen Guard drinking champagne with top model Jacelyn Fox. They would've made fun of these rich people together while fangirling about them. It would've been so great.

But Celine wasn't there. And Y/N was all alone.

She knew she shouldn't look down in the dumps at her boyfriend's birthday party, but how she acted and what she thought wouldn't make any difference. Nobody paid attention to her, anyway. She'd come here alone and had only spoken a few words to her boyfriend before Jeff stole him from her. The manager didn't even bother to wonder who she was, or why she'd been invited. She didn't matter to anyone here except for Harry.

So she'd found her place in the corner of the room, watching her boyfriend talking to a director Jeff had introduced him to. He looked nervous and kept glancing back to where she stood, probably to get some emotional support and make sure she was all right. She had to put on a beam whenever he stared, but the second he turned away, she went back to looking miserable. Y/N was completely alienated at this party.

"Y/N!"

Her heart leaped in joy the second she spotted Niall waving at her with a massive grin on his face. My savior, she thought to herself and immediately went in for a hug.

"You came!" Niall said. "Harold was afraid you'd change your mind."

"Nah, I didn't want to let him down," she said and took another sip of champagne.

"Where's Harold?"

"He's over there with Jeff and some directors."

Niall's eyes followed where Y/N's finger was pointing at, and he didn't comment anything else. He probably knew it was a duty for people like Harry to meet new people at parties like these, but at the same time, felt bad because Y/N was abandoned. So he quickly changed the subject by complimenting her dress. She didn't know if that was even half the truth, but it certainly made her feel less self-conscious now.

They spoke for a while until she noticed that Niall had been eye-flirting with a blonde from across the room. It seemed like he wanted to go over there and start a conversation, but didn't want to leave Y/N on her own. As much as she wanted to be selfish and keep him here with her, she ended up telling him to go talk to that girl.

"Are you sure you'll be fine here?" He raised an eyebrow in concern, making her laugh.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Like one hundred percent sure or ninety percent?"

"One hundred." She rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder. "Go! Before she finds someone else."

"Okay." Niall gulped down his drink and put the empty glass back on the table next to him. "But don't worry," he told her, "Harold's coming."

Y/N looked up as Niall left and saw that her boyfriend was indeed making his way here. Harry stopped in front of her and leaned in, but then remembered just in time to kiss her on the cheek and not her lips like he'd intended to.

"Sorry I took too long." He pulled away, keeping his hands behind his back. "Was Niall bothering you?"

She grinned and shook her head. "No, he was actually keeping me entertained with his jokes."

"Are you bored?"

"Not at all."

He gave her a half-smile. "Okay, now you're just being sarcastic."

"You gotta love me for who I am, mister," said Y/N as she playfully poked his chest.

Harry eyed her from head to toes. She could already guess what he was thinking about when he wetted his lip and took a deep breath. "I really want to ruin your lipstick right now," he said in hushed tones. "That dress looks so fucking good on you."

"How about we sneak out of here and you can ruin more than just my lipstick?" She stepped forward, not breaking their eye contact. The look on his face was priceless. He had his mouth and eyes wide open, trying to appear as composed as he could, but she knew his heart was racing.

"We can't, love," he said at last.

Though dismayed, she couldn't blame him for not wanting to risk it. They shouldn't even be talking to each other right now.

"But...but...I can show you around," he added. "Jeff's got a huge house and—Have you checked out the sushi bar? There's a sushi bar."

"Yeah, I ate so much that so many people were staring and I had to leave," she said, chuckling slightly.

Harry hesitated, and yet he couldn't help but stroke her cheek with his thumb before tucking a black strand behind her ear. "I'll make it up to you after this party, I promise."

"I'm looking forward to it." She pressed her lips into a smirk. "So...why don't you show me around?"

"Okay, come—"

"Harry!" Jeff pushed his way through a group of people and clutched Harry's arm as his whole face lit up "Director Garrett Spielmann is here! I sent the invitation to him for fun and he actually came!"

"Oh God, that's great, uhm...but..." Harry paused to look back at his girlfriend. "Can you keep him busy for a moment?"

"Are you insane?!" Jeff cried out. He was too hyped to notice the girl standing behind his client, so he went on, tugging at Harry's arm. "That man directs only Academy Award-winning films and works with only potential Academy Award-winning actors! Please don't let me down!"

"But—"

"No!"

"Jeffrey!" Harry groaned like a little boy but Jeff refused to listen. He dragged his best client by the arm toward the white-haired man standing in the middle of the room. Y/N gave her boyfriend two thumbs up to let him know she was fine, still, he looked extremely guilty.

"I'm sorry and I love you," he mouthed at her. To be honest, that was all she needed to hear at the moment.

Now alone again, Y/N decided to go explore the house on her own. It was actually great to be a nobody because no one there came up to talk to her; they let her wander freely like a ghost among the living. After walking around until her legs were tired, she had found a bathroom. She didn't really need to go, she simply wanted to get away from the party just for a little while. The bathroom sounded like a great idea for that. In fact, it took her back to her prom night, when she'd spent most of the time making out with her boyfriend in a stall instead of dancing. The bathroom could be a great place if you wanted it to be.

Having been to Harry's and Isaac's house many times before, Y/N already had an idea of what rich people's bathrooms looked like. So she wasn't exactly surprised to see the one at Jeff's. It was similar, scrupulously clean with gleaming granite countertops, walnut framed mirrors, and fragrant fluffy towels carefully folded on a chair. Could she just stay here while waiting for Harry? It would surely be better than going back out there.

However, once she'd finished reapplying her makeup, she heard some voices and footsteps down the hall. They got louder as the people came closer, and then sauntered in two twins who looked and dressed like supermodels. It was Ruby who walked right behind them. Y/N guessed they had just arrived because she hadn't seen them until now.

The twins didn't pay much attention to her, though she'd noticed the way they had sized her up when they entered. Ruby, on the other hand, gave her a long hard glare as she walked past. Y/N didn't want to start an unwanted conversation here, so she had to leave quietly.

As she had just walked out of the door, the girls thought she was gone, so they began talking.

"Hey, Rubes, who's that girl?" one of the twins spoke with the most annoying high-pitched voice Y/N had ever heard. As much as she hated to eavesdrop, the conversation was about her, and she had to know how mean they were going to be. So she stood by the bathroom entrance with her back against the wall, listening to everything they had to say.

"I saw her laughing with Harry earlier," the same twin continued. "Do they know each other or something?"

"Is she his new assistant?" the other one joined in.

"Nope," Ruby said with a calm yet mocking tone. Her laugh echoed in the room. "She's here to serve drinks."

This bitch!

"They seemed like close friends to me," twin number one said.

"Oh, please." Ruby scoffed. "Harry is nice to everyone who works for him."

"But have you seen her dress?" Twin number two scoffed as she commented, "I mean, girl, are you at a birthday party or a funeral? I feel so sorry for her if she thinks she can fit in looking like that."

Y/N clenched her fists and bit so hard on her bottom lip that it turned white. If this was secondary school, she would've confronted those ladies like she'd done to the mean girls back then. But now she was an adult, a guest at an exclusive party, her boyfriend's birthday party. She knew better than to cause a scene and draw any attention to herself.

So she took a deep breath, held onto her rage and got out of there. That was when she bumped into Isaac.

"Hey, lady, watch where you're going!" he said with a beam but she was too upset to return one.

"Thank God you're here," she said. "I was about to lose it and bitch slap Ruby in the bathroom. Fuck, that bitch!"

Isaac blanched as soon as he heard. "Wait, what happened? Where's H?"

"Talking to Garrett Spielmann over there."

Isaac turned his head so fast it could've fallen off and he wouldn't have cared. "The Garrett Spielmann?" His blue eyes brightened. "The director of Vendetta Of Retreat, the best movie of all time?!"

"Jesus, calm down, you movie nerd." She gave his shoulder a nudge. "Well, he's busy speaking to Harry, so maybe wait a bit before you rush in to ask for a photograph."

"If I do fangirl too hard, please stop me," Isaac pulled a silly face that made her shriek with laughter.

Ruby and the twins had finally entered the room. All eyes were on them when they ambled in like models on a runway. They didn't pay attention to anyone, so Y/N assumed they probably didn't see her now that she'd blended right into the background, where she should be. She watched the actress kiss the twins goodbye and make her way to Harry. Everything she did pissed Y/N off, even the way she hugged Harry and held him for much longer than she did the others.

"Bitch," Y/N muttered, thinking Isaac didn't hear it. But he did, and he burst out laughing.

"So you've talked to the Declan twins?" he asked, pointing to those girls.

"No, but they sure had a lot to say about me. All awful things."

"Don't mind them. Their father is a millionaire and they think they're the British Kendall and Kylie Jenner."

His comment made her snort. "They are as bratty as those Kardashian girls, so that's actually correct."

The pair shared a good laugh at her comment and then Isaac added, "love your dress by the way."

"Many of the guests here would disagree, but thank you," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I personally love it. But your outfit's still missing something."

"Of course it—What are you doing?" Y/N widened her eyes when the man took a step closer. Not saying a word, he pressed two fingers to the corners of her mouth and pushed them up.

"There ya go," he said with amusement as she pushed his hands away, smiling this time.

"You're a nerd," she said.

"And you, little lady, is a bully."

The kids couldn't find the ring.

They had searched everywhere on the road from their houses to the store and they had asked everyone they knew. Nobody had seen the ring. Or maybe someone had, and they'd kept it for themselves. So Y/N and Harry returned home empty-handed and Y/N blamed herself for everything. As soon as they'd entered their treehouse, the little girl burst into tears.

"Hey, kid, what...what's wrong?" Harry gripped her trembling shoulders and crouched down so their faces were at the same level. "Hey, don't cry. It's not your fault."

"If it hadn't been for m-me...and...and this two-person party, maybe...maybe you would still have your r-ring," she said while sobbing into her small palms.

Harry's brain stuttered for a moment, he always panicked when his Bambi cry. Her tears had power over him, and he was still trying to figure out how to deal with them. Carefully, he held her little face and stroked her head, telling her to calm down.

"It's not your fault, Bambi. I was careless, and the ring was too big for me so it fell out. None of this is your fault. You've been nothing but a good girl."

It was funny how he hadn't thought of that when he lost the ring. He had been too upset about losing it that the reason why didn't matter. Only when he saw Y/N's tears did it occur to him that, if not today then sooner or later he would've lost that ring, anyway. You could never keep something that wasn't meant to be yours.

He took the girl's hands and pulled her down on the floor with him. They were sitting face to face, their fingers intertwined on his lap. Quietly, he watched her sniffle for a moment, and then she stopped crying.

"Maybe..." She freed one hand from his to wipe her wet cheeks. "Maybe your dad will understand if you tell him what you just told me."

His face went blank at once. "I-I don't think...uhm..." he stuttered, biting his lip. "I don't think he needs to know."

"Of course he does!" she cried out. "He gave it to you for your birthday."

"He didn't."

"What?"

Y/N gave him this innocent look that made his heart ache, for he knew he was a terrible person for lying to her. With his head hung low to avoid her big questioning eyes, Harry admitted, "he didn't give the ring to me. I-I found it in my mum's closet. She told me it used to be his and let me keep it."

Slowly, he looked up, expecting her to get angry. After all, he'd made her think it'd been her fault that he'd lost his father's gift. But Y/N only asked, "why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

The girl didn't sound querulous but rather perplexed and concerned. She didn't understand why he felt the need to lie, especially to her. Should she always be an exception?

A line appeared between his brows as he began to fidget with the buttons on his shirt. Embarrassed, he said, "because my dad...has never sent me a birthday present before. Maybe he doesn't even remember I exist, let alone my birthday. But I wished that he did, so I lied about him sending me the ring. I thought that...if you believed the story, I would too, and it'd become the truth."

The boy eventually looked up with sad eyes that made him look like a criminal who'd just pleaded guilty. However, the look his sweet little neighbor was giving him didn't make him feel that way. She didn't say a word and got on her knees to wrap her short arms around his torso. He was frozen for a second, but eventually relaxed to accept the hug, thinking it was one of the best gifts he'd ever received on his birthday.

Harry had been watching his girlfriend and best friend for long enough to feel uncomfortable. He didn't care what Isaac had told him. He knew Isaac's feelings for Y/N couldn't have just vanished overnight. Maybe Isaac still loved her. Maybe he wanted to prove that she was wrong to choose Harry. Maybe he was waiting for an opportunity to win her back. Maybe that opportunity was tonight.

Stop, said the voice inside Harry's head, he was over-analyzing the situation again. Still, it was frustrating to see her so happy with Isaac.

"Harry is made for that role! He's perfect! Aren't you, H?"

"Huh?" The actor blinked rapidly. Only now did he realize everyone was staring, and he felt like a fool for not knowing what it was about.

"Garrett's new movie," Ruby reminded him. "I said you should audition for the role of the space soldier."

"Oh, no, I'm not—"

"He's so humble," she cut him off, giving his shoulder a subtle squeeze to say he should leave this to her. The truth was, he wished he could leave everything to her and go be with his girlfriend right now.

"It's good to be humble sometimes, but don't underestimate yourself," said Garett, who had been greatly entertained by Harry's laid-back attitude and Ruby's energy. He flicked his fingers between the two of them. "You could be perfect for the roles of the lovers."

"Well, I don't know about me, but Harry is the perfect choice." Ruby nudged him, making the few other guests standing there 'aww' at once. But when she was sure nobody paid attention anymore, she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "you're acting like a sheep. Remember what I taught you."

Harry did remember her advice. He knew if he showed these people that he was any less than them, they would start seeing him that way too. However, it'd been hard to put on a great show knowing he'd left Y/N on her own for most of tonight. Now she was alone with Isaac, which didn't really help him feel any better.

When Harry glanced back to where those two had been just a minute ago, they were already gone. His eyes desperately searched for them from left to right, but they were nowhere to be seen in the room. Now he began to feel hot under the collar, almost like he was standing on fire.

"Excuse me."

The word slipped out of his mouth before he could think twice. He ignored Jeff saying his name, shrugged Ruby's hands off him, and muttered a sincere apology to the director he'd probably never get to speak to again. He needed to find his girl.

"And over here we have...the sushi bar!"

Isaac fell about as Y/N presented it to him like she was the owner of the place. "Are you sure this is the first time you've been here?"

She gave him a shrug. "I had nothing to do for the last two hours, so I walked around. But this could be my house in twenty years. Who knows?"

Smiling, she picked up a clean plate to get some sushi rolls for the two of them. He watched her hum in satisfaction as she ate one, and with a mouth full, asked him if he'd like to try.

"No, I—"

"Come on, open your mouth."

He pretended to look annoyed but still opened his mouth so she could feed him the roll using chopsticks.

"Good?" she asked, and he nodded, making her giggle. "See? I told ya. This is the only good thing about this party, to be honest."

"Our surprise party would've been better." His comment made her beam fade away. As she said nothing else, he went on with a sigh, "I'm sorry you had to cancel it at the last minute. Did Harry know?"

"Nah, if he had, he would've asked Jeff to cancel this party." A corner of her mouth quirked up as she lifted her shoulders. "I didn't want him to put himself second on his birthday because of me."

"You think he would've done that?"

"Yeah. I know him," she asserted. "He's not enjoying this party at all. You can just see it in his eyes."

Isaac obviously couldn't. Nobody here could, except for her. Maybe it was her special talent, one she'd always taken pride of. She knew him better than everyone in this house. But unfortunately, they were the ones receiving his attention tonight.

"Well, hello Isaac."

When Y/N heard that scratchy voice, she didn't have to turn around to know it was one of the twins from earlier. She could never get that obnoxious high-pitched tone out of her head. As she turned around, the girl shoved an empty glass into her hands.

"Get me some more champagne," said twin number one, who had a slightly higher voice than her sister.

Y/N pushed the glass back to the girl. With a hostile glare, she said, "I don't work here. You have arms and legs, do it yourself."

The girl raised an eyebrow and puckered up her lips. "Are you sure you don't work here?"

"Hey, that's enough, Emma."

"Oh, you're hanging with the party staff now, Isaac?" twin number two said as she stepped forward to back up her sister. Y/N almost told him to leave it to her to handle these bitches, but he didn't even give her a chance to try.

"She's my girlfriend. Speak to her like that again and I'll tell your father what you really did in Vegas."

The twins had their mouths hanging open but neither could make a sound, and Isaac didn't want to wait for them to speak. He grabbed a startled Y/N and pulled her with him, away from those girls, to an empty balcony and shut the glass doors to muffle the loud music and noisy conversations.

Just as he was about to say something, she interrupted him. "Why did you tell them I was your girlfriend?"

"I didn't...I didn't know what to say. I was angry that they said that to you." He breathed and shoved his fingers in his golden locks. "They both asked me out two years ago, and I turned them down. They're still bitter about it, apparently."

"They both asked you out?"

"Weird, right?" He snorted at the look on her face. "You okay, Smiley?"

"Yeah." She looked up to meet his eyes. "I would've kicked their asses had you not been there."

"Thank God I was there. You're one violent little girl."

"Who you calling a little girl?" She playfully hit his chest only for him to catch her wrists and hold them down. The two of them were dying of laughter when the door opened and Harry appeared.

"Bambi?" His voice stopped them at once.

Isaac let Y/N go, giving Harry a grin, but he didn't get the same attitude in return. The way Harry's eyebrows snapped together and his lips set in a hard line had said it all.

"I'll leave you two alone," said Isaac as he gave his best friend one last glance before leaving.

Once the door fell shut, Harry turned back to his girlfriend. Y/N didn't hold his gaze for more than a second. She turned her head to stare at the trees and fairy lights in Jeff's garden.

"I was looking everywhere for you," he spoke, his voice was low. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

As she released a shaky breath, Harry expected her to continue. But what came next was silence. Terrifying, grim silence that made his bones ache and his heart sink. He took a step forward to stand by her side and refrained the need to reach for her hand. He knew any move he made was being watched. He was nothing more than a poor book character waiting for the readers to decide whether he was good or bad.

"What were you and Isaac talking about?" He asked, his eyebrows pulled together as he studied her reaction. He didn't have to say it, she knew what he was thinking.

"He was just keeping me company while you were busy with the other guests," she replied with a straight face.

"You know I can't spend all my time with you, Bambi," he said steadily. "People would get suspicious, that's how rumors start."

"I know. That's why I'm not blaming you."

"You were though."

"I wasn't!" She shot him a glare. "I just felt uncomfortable, so I came out here for some fresh air. Why's it a problem for you?!"

"Because you're clearly upset that I'm not spending enough time with you tonight and you won't admit it."

"No." She laughed wryly, shaking her head. "I'm upset because I don't feel welcome here. These snobby rich people look down on me, H. I know it's not your fault, but why are you trying to pin it on me?"

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" He breathed and quickly glanced at the door to make sure no one was looking at them. "You want to get to know me. Well, this is me, Bambi. I'm not just the boy you grew up with, I'm also an actor. And sadly, what those snobby rich people think of me matters. I don't like that, in fact, I hate that. But I still have to go through with it every day. So why can't you just be supportive?"

"If I weren't supportive, I wouldn't have come here, H." She stared at him in disappointment. "It's sad that you think I still need to get to know you. I've known you my whole life, and this isn't you. All you've been doing tonight is trying to please other people. You're not having fun on your birthday and these people are not your friends. They don't even care about you."

"I don't need them to care about me, I need them to accept me. That's the only way for me to mean something here."

"You are something to me," she softened her voice, but he let those words go over his head.

"It's easy for you to say because you're not one of us. Maybe you should've stayed home."

Fear crossed his face as he realized what he'd said. Abruptly, he reached for her hand, muttering a late apology only for her to push him away.

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"No, you were right," she cut him off. "I should've stayed home."

When she stormed off, Harry was paralyzed for a whole second. His mind was blurry until it suddenly hit him what this could mean for them. The last time she'd walked out on him, he'd lost her for a year, and could've lost her forever had it not been for that bloody storm. He couldn't lose her again, especially not on his birthday.

Terrified, he chased after Y/N, but she had blended right into the crowded room and disappeared like a ghost. Before he could make it to the exit, a hand pulled him back by his shoulder.

"Hey, there you are!" Ruby said, her eyebrows rose. "Come on, I—"

"Not now Rubes." He shrugged her off, only to bump into the Declan twins as he attempted to run.

"Hey, Rubes, that girl turns out to be Isaac's girlfriend. Why did you say she was here to serve drinks?! "

Ruby's eyes bulged out when Harry looked back at her, and now he finally realized what had happened when he wasn't there. Y/N had been upset for a reason which he'd been too oblivion and selfish to figure out.

"I can explain," Ruby blurted, but he stopped her before she could start.

"Please don't." He pulled away and then dashed toward the door.

"Wait!" Y/N shouted before Harry blew out the candle on his cupcake. She looked so serious with her eyebrows knitted together and her arms crossed. "Before you make your wish, I have to give you my present first."

"It's not how it works though." He scoffed. "It's always: blow the candle, make a wish, and then open presents."

"This is a special birthday so we don't play by the rules," said the little girl as she reached inside the back pocket of her jeans. "Close your eyes."

Smiling, Harry shut his eyes. He told her she shouldn't have bought him anything, and she replied by saying he talked too much. On the count to three, the girl told him to open his eyes.

"Ta-da!"

"A...ribbon?" The boy looked confused, but at the same time, amused by the birthday surprise she was holding in front of his face.

"Give me your hand." Y/N giggled. She didn't have to explain herself, because when she wrapped the pink ribbon around his thumb and tied both ends together into a nice little bow, he finally got the idea.

"Now you can tell everyone you got a ring on your birthday!" She blushed, chewing on her lip. "This was kind of a...last-minute idea. And you know, I don't have money to buy you a real one—"

"I love it!" He cut her off while admiring the 'ring' on his thumb. "It's beautiful."

Her eyes sparkled with joy as she clapped her hands and promised him, one day she would get him a real silver ring. He told her he couldn't wait until that day and finally blew out the candle.

"Do early birthday wishes come true?" He asked after having made his wish.

With her hands on her knees, she gave him a shrug. "We'll find out. But did you wish for your dad to come back or for you to find the ring?"

"I wish for us to always stay together."

Her reaction to his answer wasn't what he'd expected.

"Harry! Why would you say your wish out loud?!"

"Well, you asked me what it was." The boy chuckled at the horrified look on his little friend's face. "This is a special birthday, remember? It doesn't follow the rules of ordinary birthdays."

Harry's reassurance made Y/N sigh in relief. She pursed her lips, batting her eyelashes at him. "I hope you're right."

He knew he was right. They would always stay together. Because what would he do without his girl?

"Bambi, wait!" Harry burst right through the door and leaped down the steps with two strides to catch up with Y/N. She heard his voice and only walked faster toward her car, clutching the strap of her crossbody bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Go back inside, you're making a scene!" she shouted at him without slowing down, but Harry didn't give up. He pushed past the people who were trickling out of the house. Their indistinct voices were sizzling in his ears, but he brushed them off and tried to keep up with her pace.

"Baby, I'm sorry!"

"I don't wanna hear it!" She covered her ears like a child, striding ahead. Just as she was about to reach her car, however, he jumped right between her and the door, holding her arms so she wouldn't push him out of the way.

"I didn't mean what I said!"

"And I don't care," she grumbled, turning her head from left to right. Her face reddened as she realized there were people watching them fight in the driveway. Harry, on the other hand, was too delirious to care.

"Please, I'm sorry I said that to you." He held her face dearly so she would look at him instead of those strangers. "That was stupid, really stupid. I should've been there for you instead of him. It won't happen again."

"What are you doing? People are staring at us," she said between gritted teeth, but he wasn't listening.

"I love you, Bambi. I love you so much—"

Y/N covered his mouth with both hands, the color drained out of her face. While she was in shock that he'd screamed out those words, he was snickering into her palm.

"Are you fucking insane?!" She pushed him away. "Jesus Christ, how much did you drink? You're fucking craz—"

That sentence was left unfinished as he held her face and bent his head to kiss her deeply. His lips were soft, his mouth hot. His tongue thrust into her mouth as he turned them around and pinned her against her car. The next thing she knew, she was kissing him back, shoving her fingers in his tangled hair, moaning his name. They kissed like no one was watching. His hands worked their ways around her body, caressing her body that was made just for him. She was his girl, his one and only. He told himself that before pulling away, one hand on the glass window, the other holding her neck, their foreheads touching. They held each other's intense gaze for a long moment while panting and trembling.

Y/N had only read about the type of kisses that made your head spin and your heart stop, but with him, she could feel everything she'd thought didn't exist. It was always fireworks when they touched, and she could probably never get used to it.

"Why did you do that?" she asked quietly, her hands clenched fistfuls of his shirt.

He sucked in a shaky breath before closing his eyes. "Because you wouldn't hear me out."

"Well, you were rude to me. You hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry. I was...I was going insane in there," he said, his eyelids fluttered. "I didn't like seeing you with Isaac, and I didn't like how I'd been distracted the whole night just thinking of you. I used to be...good at it you know, putting on a fake smile and parading around like I enjoyed every single moment. But tonight, I could only think about you. I worried that you might not like it, that you weren't happy, that after tonight you would change your mind about our relationship. I just...I hate that you're not like us, you're too good for our pretentious world. So if I'm not careful enough, I can lose you easily."

"I didn't...didn't know you felt that way." She pouted, slowly caressing his cheeks. "I'm sorry, maybe I should've been more understanding."

He shook his head. "No, it was my fault. I didn't realize some people had been awful to you."

"Did Isaac tell you?"

"No, one of the twins accidentally said it." He frowned. "Maybe both of us should've stayed home. I'm not a dick when I'm alone with you."

His remark about himself made her giggle. "I almost threw away my birthday present for you because you were a dick," she said and asked him to give her a moment.

Harry arched an eyebrow as he watched Y/N open her crossbody bag. Before he could say a word, she pulled out from a small pocket a silver signet ring.

"Got this from a thrift store. It's embarrassingly cheap, I promise." She smirked as shock transformed his face.

"Wait, is that..."

Y/N nodded. "I don't remember what your dad's ring looked like exactly, so I'm sorry if this one might look a bit different. I had the word BAMBI engraved instead of your last name. See?"

"Wow, you are narcissistic."

"Oh, shut up!"

Harry was beaming like an excited little boy when she took his left hand and put the piece of jewelry on his ring finger, which fit perfectly.

"Happy sweet twenty-five, my love," she said. "Now you can tell everyone this is the birthday present from someone who really loves you."

Too emotional to speak, Harry dragged his Bambi back into his arms and showered her face with gentle kisses. He repeatedly whispered into her ear how much she meant to him and how lucky he was to have her in his life. Though she already knew, her heart still bloated, filled with affection.

"People have seen us together." She nibbled on her bottom lip while observing his face.

"It's fine, don't worry." He kissed the tip of her nose. Despite what he'd said, the look in his eyes had failed to cover up his fear. "Whatever happens, you'll stay with me right?"

"Always." She pressed her lips against the curve of his jaw, her hands tightened on his hips.

#my girl series #older!harry #actor!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles smut

420 notes · View notes

tevivinter · 4 years

Text

die for you

Chapter 2: weak spots

[read on ao3]

Her movements were quick but calculated, feet moving only enough to dodge and parry at the exact moment. Darya flashed an arrogant smile, hair slick with sweat, air rushing in and out of her lungs. She had been sparring with Alistair for an hour or so, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made it look like only a few minutes had passed.

She blocked his sword with one axe, and a metallic sound followed when she jolted the other one against the blade, pulling it away from him like a hook. The weapon fell to the ground with an empty thud.

Darya gave out a bored sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I told you not to go easy. You are not really trying to hit me, are you?"

"Uh, did you forget about the part where you insisted to use real weapons?" Alistair pointed at the sword for emphasis. "And that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance you might actually get hurt?”

“Oh, please.” Darya suppressed a mocking laugh, her stance becoming more relaxed as she rested one axe upon her shoulder. “Did the templars train you with wooden swords by any chance?”

“What? No!” She raised one questioning brow at his quick denial, and Alistair couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “I mean, only at the beginning-”

“Well that explains a lot,” she interrupted dryly.

He groaned. “Look, my point is that I don’t want to accidentally stab you. Or have your axe buried in my head. Nope, I’m totally fine as it is.”

“No need to be so dramatic, Chantry boy.” Darya rolled her eyes. “Besides, you wouldn’t manage to land a hit on me even if you wanted to.”

"Thank you so much for the compliment," Alistair muttered sarcastically. “Why don’t you… I don’t know, ask Zevran instead?” His gaze soon turned to the elf’s usual spot by the camp, glancing at him from a distance. “I bet he wouldn’t mind that."

The annoyance in his tone was crystal clear, but Darya ignored it as her thoughts went in an interesting direction. It would be nice to spar with someone else for a change - she had been practicing with Alistair long enough to read and predict most of his actions. Zevran, on the other hand...

"Well then." A new surge of determination made her tighten the grip on both axes. "This might be a genuinely good idea.”

Zevran sat near his tent, calmly sorting out what appeared to be small bottles of poison into his bag. He didn't need to look to know that the footsteps coming into his direction belonged to Darya. It wasn't exactly his plan to overhear their conversation, but he couldn't do anything about his elven hearing either. Still, Zevran waited until Darya stood right beside him, her shadow looming over his belongings.

He pretended to be surprised as he tilted his head up to face her. “Oh? Is there something you need, bela?”

"Yes. I happen to be looking for a sparring partner." She vaguely pointed one axe towards Alistair. "Chantry boy there would like to learn a few things."

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" Alistair protested from afar.

"Hmm. I'm intrigued." Zevran leaned back a little, a spark of curiosity shining in his eyes. "If I might ask, is there a particular reason why you want to spar with me? There are plenty of candidates in this camp after all." Then his lips curved into a smirk, as if he had just realized something. “Is it because I’m ‘handsome’, as you like to call?”

Darya’s scoff was louder than expected. That was more of a side benefit, actually, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing either way. “Don’t push your luck, assassin. We haven’t sparred yet - let’s just say I’m curious.”

“Whatever you say, my dear warden.” Zevran said nonchalantly as he stood up, proceeding to pick up his daggers. He followed Darya’s steps to an open space between the tents and the edge of the camp. “Shall we compete for points then?”

“Do as you like.” She rolled her shoulders in preparation before positioning herself at a reasonable distance from him. Then she drew her axes once more, an arrogant smile lighting her features with determination. “Just don’t expect to win.”

Zevran mirrored her expression, but Darya stepped forward before he had any chance to reply. She wanted to surprise him with a quick attack, yet Zevran managed to parry the blow, daggers crossed to lessen the impact. She was forced a few steps back to avoid the swift swing of his blades. His speed was far greater than expected, and the contrast between his fighting style and his laidback attitude was like day and night.

Zevran was, after all, fighting to win.

A flurry of metallic sounds followed, axes and daggers relentlessly colliding with one another. It was almost like performing a dance, their rhythm oddly in sync as they moved. It was hard to pay attention to his footwork and parry when she had so little time to act. Turns out Darya was not as fast as him - but she was definitely stronger. She ducked to the side and used the momentum to hit the back of his legs. The impact caused Zevran to lose his balance, daggers slipping away from his hands when he fell.

Darya gave a satisfied smile. “One point for me."

Zevran chuckled before easing himself up again. “I must admit that this was not what I had in mind when I pictured you pushing me to the ground.”

“Keep distracting yourself and this will be over real soon, handsome.”

Both of them stepped back, using a small moment to catch their breaths before starting all over again.

Sparring with Zevran was unlike anything she had ever done. Darya felt a different jolt of adrenaline course through her blood each time he managed to surprise her. She was used to restrain herself while practicing, measuring her strength and abilities in order not to hurt her partners too much. Truth be told, it was no easy task to find someone as skilled as herself. But this, him- Darya couldn’t remember the last time she felt so free. For once she didn’t need to worry, instead only focusing on proper combat. Zevran offered her some kind of challenge, one she had desperately missed for so long without even realizing. It was something so new and refreshing but also powerful, like an electrical storm rushing through her veins.

The camp soon faded into the distance. They sparred for a long while until the back of her neck became damp with sweat, several strands of hair escaping from her loose ponytail. Darya's shirt clung to her skin, the grip on her axes considerably weaker than before. Zevran appeared to be in a similar situation, chest heaving up and down as he breathed. Darya searched for a weak spot in his stance. There was an opening at his left side, she realized, but it took only a second before he closed the gap between them. A dagger attempted to hit her right side and Darya easily defended it – only to realize it was a blow meant for distraction.

And soon she was lying on the ground with Zevran hovering on top of her.

He let out a breathless chuckle, one hand pinned to the ground to keep his balance, the other holding a dagger a few inches from Darya's chin. "It appears luck is on my side today, no?"

She stared at him, finding herself to be completely speechless. It was careless and stupid of her to let that happen, yet her frustrations were soon forgotten when Darya realized how close he was. Zevran seemed to notice it as well, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths. He unconsciously lowered the dagger to take in the sight of Darya lying beneath him. Her lips were slightly open as she panted, face flushed by the adrenaline, strands of golden hair sticking to her sweaty skin. She was gorgeous even like that, and Zevran resisted the urge to trace her jaw with his fingers.

That is, until Darya pulled him down for a kiss.

She curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, a soft sigh leaving her lips when Zevran kissed her back just as fiercely. She opened her mouth to meet his tongue, molten desire making her heart thump with the taste of him. Demanding hands urged Zevran even closer, and Darya felt his smirk against her lips. He allowed his body to relax more, but only enough to press her down a bit.

As soon as Zevran had his guard down, Darya took the chance to flip them over.

A smug smile crossed her lips when she had him pinned down, knees firmly placed on either side of his ribs and hands trapping his wrists above his head. More importantly, the last dagger was gone from his grip.

"To be honest, I didn't think you would fall for that. It’s the oldest trick in the book," Darya scoffed. "But I told you it wasn’t going to lose."

Zevran didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying the whole situation. "You are as cruel as you are beautiful, my dear.” He glanced up to indicate his wrists and then back at her. “Still - if you wanted to bound me, all you needed to do was ask.”

She chuckled in response - except this time it felt genuine.

Zevran became used to the fact that Darya wasn’t spontaneous about her feelings. She often wore a smug smile, one that worked wonderfully to deceive most people. It didn’t take him long to realize that her smiles never reached her eyes. Deep down they were just invisible walls, cold and hard to see through. Zevran only did because he could relate to that. He, too, had been building up walls ever since he was a child.

And so her laugh came out as a surprise. It was brief, yet warm enough to light up her whole face. For only a moment there were no signs of sarcasm, just the real her, bright and welcoming as the sun. For only a moment her gaze softened and he could see how beautiful she truly were.

But Darya soon snapped back to reality. She leaned back a little, a small frown the only visible sign of her confusion. She continued as if nothing had happened, though her voice became undeniably harsher.

“In your dreams, handsome.” There was an uncertain feeling to her look that she just couldn’t shake off. Darya soon stood up, ignoring the curiosity in Zevran’s gaze. “We’re done for today.”

Under normal circumstances he would have continued to tease, but he knew it was not the right moment to do that. Not anymore at least. Zevran simply nodded then, proceeding to get on his feet as well. “As you say.”

Then she walked away, her conflicting thoughts being the only company she had for a while. To think that she actually had fun with Zevran... it was odd. She didn't plan any of that. It simply happened, and Darya hated to deal with things that were beyond her control. T here was something about him that s he couldn't place yet - something different. Whether it was good or not, only time would tell.

#my writing #darya aeducan #zevran arainai #zevwarden week 2020 #dragon age #i'm super late but god help me i'll fill the entire week

6 notes · View notes

ambitionsource · 5 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Second Choice” [ 2.02 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (daphnegolshiri) || S2 Tag || Official Page

TAKE YOUR PICK – The faculty organizes another duet week in an effort to bridge the student divides, but a change in rules creates more problems than solutions. Isadora gets a lesson in honing her inner diva. Harper and Shawn butt heads over how to handle the junior class.

59 Minutes (14.5K+ words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Callbacks ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Are We Out of the Woods → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S ROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Happy When I’m Sad” as performed by Jonas Brothers || Instrumental

Close on Riley’s coveted moodboard, only it’s in the process of transition. RILEY MATTHEWS is slowly taking items down, trying to reorient herself in this new world and find her sense of gravity again. If that means starting from scratch, then so be it.

Still, she hesitates as she takes the scrap of notebook paper down from its central spot. The notes she and Lucas were passing back and forth last semester, still boldly declaring “you’re better” in his untidy scrawl.

Riley gazes at it, handling it gently in her fingers. Obviously torn on how to feel about it now in spite of how many times she’s looked to it for inspiration. That, and painfully wistful.

CORY MATTHEWS interrupts her daze, startling her. He asks if she’s ready to go, not catching onto her earlier moment of melancholy. She moves fast and stuffs the note in her pocket, nodding and tossing her bag over her shoulder.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is getting ready for the day, scrutinizing himself in the mirror. He’s wearing one of his favorite sweaters, but he’s dissatisfied with how it looks. It’s a little too loose around the middle. He pulls it off in a huff, sorting through his other clothes in his closet.

As he pulls a different selection, the dark fabric of this one allows for clearer imperfections. There are a couple of stray hairs clinging to the cashmere, a slightly more perceptible amount of shedding than one might typically notice.

He hardly focuses on that as he pulls it on over his head. What the dark color does accomplish is a more fitted appearance, so he decides that’ll have to do for now. As his mother calls for him, he runs his hands through his hair one more time in the mirror. Still attempting to maintain that perfectly polished exterior, yet there’s a frayed edge he can’t seem to smooth over.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Bright and early, MAYA HART is in the building before anyone else. She’s in the midst of an intense practice, not giving up any scrap of rehearsal time.

She stretches and moves with expert precision. The only aspect out of shape are her dance shoes, pretty worn and even falling apart in some places. She certainly can’t afford new ones.

Hence why she’s working harder than everyone else. She checks her phone for the time, tightening her ponytail before running through another routine.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is finishing up a quick breakfast as she gets ready to head out, almost missing KAREN VAN HERSCHING as she enters carrying a crying ADRIEN WOODS. Isadora winces at the noise, but that’s only the beginning of her problems.

Karen questions why she didn’t wake up Ava and Arianna for school. They both overslept, and now they’re likely all going to be late.

Isadora: That’s not… my job?

It’s evident that Karen is not impressed with this response. She reminds Isadora that now that Blue is gone and moved out, she should be pulling more weight to help the family around here. It’s part of the expectations in this household.

Isadora looks less than thrilled about it. She mutters about being late herself and shuffles out, Karen looking after her in disappointment.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

More students are beginning to file in for the day, the hallways becoming lively and filled with chatter. Still figuring out her way around, HARPER BURGESS half-jogs through the halls until she runs into ERIC MATTHEWS. He asks if she’s heading to Jack’s office for their meeting.

Harper: Well, I’m certainly trying.

Eric laughs with her, offering to help guide the way. She questions if he just got here, but he explains he’s been here for a bit. He likes to show up early and get things in order before another full day at AAA -- and boy, has there been a lot to get in order these days.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Skateboarding up the street, DYLAN ORLANDO is on the phone with Asher. He explains that Lucas wasn’t at their usual spot to walk to school, so he doesn’t know where he is. He hopes he’ll still be on time, if he shows up at all.

As Dylan zooms by, focus shifts down the street a little further… around the corner and conveniently out of view, a parked car comes into frame --

INT. ZAY’S CAR - DAY

Which is where we find ZAY BABINEAUX, leaning forward across the median to kiss CHARLIE GARDNER. It’s clear they’ve been here for a hot minute, just out of sight and ready to head into school yet very… distracted.

They exchange a couple more enthusiastic kisses before Zay finally manages to pull away from him, catching his breath.

Zay: We should really go. We’re going to be late.

Charlie: [ humming ] I… think we can take another minute --

Another minute, another kiss. Zay can’t help but laugh, and “another” becomes a handful.

Zay: Oh, so being late isn’t a heavenly sin?

Charlie: [ over Zay’s laughter ] Shut up!

Charlie lightly shoves him and pouts, Zay laughing harder. He takes his face in his hands, making him meet his eyes. Although the mood is playful, there’s no doubt from the way they handle one another that they’re crazy about each other.

Zay: One more minute, then.

It’s difficult to maintain the pout when Zay is looking at him like that. Charlie fails to hold back a smile, allowing him to pull him back into another kiss.

Just as the school bell rings...

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric, Harper, and SHAWN HUNTER are grouped around JACK HUNTER, who is standing behind his desk organizing papers. He thanks them all for being willing to meet so quickly, then states they need to address the tension they’re still grappling with from the first week.

All of the faculty members agree, and Eric echoes Jack’s thought that it’s going to take a more concerted effort from all of them to get everybody back on the same page. Jack opens the discussion to ideas of how to accomplish this task.

Shawn: I’m thinking mortal combat. Throw ‘em in a ring Hunger Games style, last one standing is new top dog.

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

Eric: Besides, we all know what our odds are and the last thing we need is Lucas taking over and setting the place on fire.

Jack: Or instituting a code of silence in a school for the arts.

Shawn, intrigued: … now that you’ve mentioned it --

Eric & Jack: No, Shawn.

Harper is lagging a bit behind, not accustomed to the faculty banter the way Angela once was. It’s hard to discern what’s serious and what isn’t, so she fires a shot and hopes for the best.

Harper: Have we tried just… speaking to the students?

[ Pointed silence. Shawn gives her a look, crossing his arms. ]

Shawn: Okay, I know you’re new here, but give us a little bit of credit.

She doesn’t appreciate Shawn’s tone, but they’re already moving past it.

Eric: Well, there’s always more paint in storage for another safe tactical --

Jack: NO. We’re still scraping paint off the asphalt in the parking lot from the last time.

Bad ideas aside, Eric reminds them that all things considered, the duet assignment from last semester was a rather effective way to bridge gaps between students. It brought the class closer together before it inevitably… fell apart again, and that same tactic could be just as impactful this time around.

This seems to sit well with the others. Harper obviously doesn’t remember what they’re referring to, but she nods along anyway. Jack declares that it’s settled, they’ll do duets this week. Shawn and Eric agree and leave it at that, heading out.

Harper hangs back for a moment, hoping to ask Jack for advice. But it’s evident from the way he settles into his desk and starts going through work that there is a lot on his plate, so she hesitates. When he lifts his head and asks if there’s something he can do for her she denies it, shaking off the uncertainty and assuring him she’s fine.

Jack: Are you sure? You know you’re always welcome to --

Harper: No, no it’s all good. No worries, I’ll… I can handle it. Thank you, though.

She gives him a confident smile, spinning on her heel and marching off to do just that.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

As Isadora enters the technician’s booth, the reason for Dylan missing Lucas becomes clear. It’s because LUCAS FRIAR is cooped up in his nook, still asleep from the looks of it. Given how haphazardly the panel is put to the side, it’s likely he showed up late at night.

Isadora sighs, shaking her head and marching over to him. She shakes him awake, surprised he’s still “in bed” given that the bell has already rung. That’s careless for him, and as she warns him when he grumbles at her and blinks himself awake, next time it’s going to be someone else other than her who finds him like that. Then they’ll have more problems than they already do.

Lucas waves her off, sitting up and starting to pack up. But Isadora made some important points, and she looks both irritated and concerned as she waits for him to get ready.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Maya stops by her locker before class, running into SARAH CARLSON and DARBY WINTERS. While Darby gives her a cheerful greeting, Sarah instead zeroes in on Maya’s decrepit shoes.

Sarah: Might be time for a new pair, Hart. [ a beat ] Oh, wait, that’s not an option, right? Why bother when the illusion’s already been shattered?

Certainly one way to remind us that Maya’s big money facade from last season was blown. She sneers as Darby laughs along, slamming her locker closed and leading the way to class.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The class is congregating in the front and center section like usual, Isadora and Lucas descending from the booth to join them. Dylan and ASHER GARCIA seem relieved as Lucas comes over to join them, fresh shirt disguising his overnight stay and bedhead hidden behind an increasingly familiar snapback.

Harper and Shawn enter the auditorium, the former taking front and center stage and eagerly getting the attention of the class. She begins to discuss the assignment for the week and what it might entail, when she’s suddenly interrupted by Shawn pulling her back. He tells the class to talk amongst themselves and pulls Harper aside, embarrassing her as he implies that she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

Shawn: I just want to make sure we’re on the same page before you go off saying whatever you’re going to say.

Harper: And you couldn’t have thought to do this… twenty minutes ago? Or any time before right now in the middle of class?

Shawn: There’s just certain things that you need to emphasize if you want this assignment to work. Mostly, they cannot choose their own partners. It will not help the situation.

Harper: What are they, toddlers?

Shawn: Have you met them?

Although Shawn has to be coming from experience, Harper still doesn’t care for the way he’s talking down to her. She nods along to his further notes before taking the stage again… and completely disregarding what he told her. She explains the assignment, and sets them loose to choose their own partners.

It’s instantaneous madness. Shawn is visibly like are you kidding me, but Harper seems proud of herself for standing her own. The chaos has already been unleashed, in any case.

Off Shawn’s mortified expression --

Cue title sequence.

Once the mandate has been laid down, everyone jumps into deciding their partners. Riley turns around and finds Zay, the two of them agreeing to work together as it’s been a while since they had a good team up.

Riley immediately begins brainstorming ideas, but Zay is distracted when he catches Charlie heading out of the auditorium. He offhandedly tells her they’ll catch up later, subtly jogging his way after Charlie. Riley watches him go, reluctantly accepting the dismissal.

Riley, flatly: Sure. No problem.

Panning to the techies, Isadora doesn’t even get the chance to breathe before she’s summoned from center stage. Maya points at her, already ready for action.

Maya: Izzy! Come on. I’ve got a lot of ideas.

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. No room for discussion. Lucas looks more than bothered as she tosses him an apologetic smile and heads towards the stage, obviously expecting things to go quite differently. Behind him, Dylan and Asher begin discussing their take.

Dylan: I’ve got it. It’s perfect. We have to do Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark.

Asher: [ catching his hands and shaking his head ] No, babe, no --

Dylan: I know it was a flop, but I think we could save it. I think we could really do something with it.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay catches up to Charlie, who seems surprised he even noticed he left. Zay begins to apologize for partnering with Riley without thinking about it, but Charlie doesn’t seem at all upset.

Zay: You know, she’s just going through it right now and I think she could use a friend in her corner.

Charlie: Oh, hey, no problem. It’s probably for the best anyway, considering…

You know. They both know what goes without saying -- the same factor that has them having this conversation in the hallway alone rather than in front of their peers, or parking down the street to kiss before school. Charlie shrugs off the bleak reminder, remaining positive.

Charlie: Besides, Yindra is a great partner. She agreed we’d be excellent, so long as I promised never to kiss her again.

Zay laughs, coming around to stand in front of him. He speaks softer.

Zay: Well, I don’t have to worry about that, do I?

Charlie, coyly: … no…

It’s a flirtatious little moment, and it’s effectively squandered as a couple of other students exit from the classroom nearby and head down the hall. They don’t pay them any attention but Zay and Charlie still take a couple steps back from one another, shifting into something stiffer.

They conclude that they’ll see each other later, heading off in separate directions as Zay jogs back to the auditorium.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Harper is gathering her things together for lunch when Farkle pokes his head in. He awkwardly states that he doesn’t see how he’ll be able to complete the assignment this week, given that there’s no one left for him to partner with.

Harper doesn’t seem to buy this, as she’s certain the numbers are right from her last count. Farkle obviously is a bit miffed she doesn’t believe him, so he reiterates the statement again despite not wanting to keep saying it.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

At the same time, Lucas is meeting with Shawn to express the same thing. He has a more blase approach, shrugging and claiming that he supposes he’ll just have to do something else.

Lucas: I mean, you know how not getting to perform is really gonna break my heart.

Shawn: Oh, I didn’t realize you switched your focus to comedy.

Harper and Farkle enter through the wings, coming to find Shawn. He explains that he was just discussing with Lucas what his alternative assignment might be, since he doesn’t seem to have a partner.

Harper: How interesting. Because Mister Minkus just came to me expressing the exact same dilemma. [ Clapping her hands together. ] There you go. Simple solution!

Lucas and Farkle stare at each other, and immediately both of them launch into complaints. No way. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

Farkle: I’d rather be skinned alive.

Lucas: That can be arranged.

Farkle’s eyes widen, looking to Shawn for a life preserver. He steps into the discussion, expressing that knowing these two and their unique dynamic this is probably not a good idea. He insists that Harper should trust him, after two years of being their teacher.

Harper: Is that so? Because what I’m seeing is a problem that two students are experiencing, in which a clear and present solution is sitting right in front of us. A good teacher would perhaps challenge those students to get over their own egos.

Lucas and Farkle both continue to argue, but Harper has had enough of the three of them. It’s only been a couple weeks, and yet they’re all tap-dancing on her last nerve. She lays down the law, stating that it’s either work together or fail the assignment.

Shawn is displeased, and the boys are downright livid. They storm off in their opposing directions, leaving Shawn to ruminate on it as Harper leaves him behind on the stage.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Isadora is making her way towards the techie table in the courtyard, JADE BEAMON and NATE MARTINEZ waving her over. However, she gets sidetracked by Maya, who swoops to her side and is already buzzing with a million new ideas she’s brainstormed over last period. She’s pulled in her direction without much effort, joining her at her usual table.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Lucas arrives just as they watch Isadora get steered away from them. Jade grimaces. JEFF MONROE makes room for Lucas.

Jeff: Well, that’s an unexpected twist.

Nate: Damn ugly one at that.

Lucas, deadpan: Given how today is going so far, can’t say I’m fucking surprised.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Isadora joins Zay and Riley at Maya’s table, all of them happy to have her join them. As they launch into eager conversation about what their number might be like, the girls agree that they’ll meet after school at Maya’s place to start rehearsing.

Although unintentional, Riley’s attempts to contribute to the conversation are brushed over. She gives up about halfway through, focusing on her food instead and keeping quiet.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

So meet up Isadora and Maya do, the latter already launching into a myriad of ideas and energetically going on and on about how their voices should compliment one another and they’ll have no trouble getting Isa up to snuff on her dancing. Isadora tries to keep up, finding ways to get a word in and contribute which Maya eagerly builds upon.

Once they take a second to breathe, Maya states that she’s glad they decided to be partners. There’s an electricity in the air… perhaps a duet is coming on…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Popular” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. Isadora De La Cruz)

The rendition of the Broadway classic picks up right from the start, Maya declaring that Isadora is going to be her new “project.” As the number unfolds, both girls dance around the apartment, don some of Maya’s fancier knock-off clothes, totally fall into the theatrics of the number.

Just as Maya is giving the declarative “Look at you, you’re beautiful” line, it’s not a fear of the new friendship but a text message that disrupts the number. Isadora checks her phone, reading whatever text she just received and growing panicked. She hastily exclaims she has to go, Maya calling a playful “you’re welcome” after her.

Maya finishes out the song on her own, at as full Galinda power as ever.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Isadora is rushing back up the steps to school, cursing out a “shit” with every step she takes. The sounds of heavy equipment being moved float in...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

While the performers have vacated the premises the auditorium is buzzing with activity, all of the techies present for their annual technical inventory. Students from every grade are in attendance, the freshmen learning the ropes from the upperclassmen of what goes into one of their most important days of the year.

Lucas is overseeing the inventorying of the items in the construction racks, DAVE WILLIAMS digging through the wood and two-by-fours to shout to him how many pieces they currently have. Lucas makes him count again, reminding him they need an accurate take on all of their materials before Shawn goes and places the order for the year before the first production.

Isadora clambers in and pushes through the underclassmen, searching for Lucas. He rolls his eyes when she spots him, not waiting up for her as he continues his march around with the clipboard she was supposed to be carrying.

Lucas: Look who decided to show up.

Isadora: I’m so sorry. I totally spaced.

Lucas: No kidding. I mean, if you have better things to do --

Isadora: I’m here, aren’t I? What can I do to help? Give me something to do.

Lucas exhales a sigh, shrugging and stating that she can do a walkabout and see who might need help. He feels like they’ve got it covered, though, so maybe she should just go.

Isadora swallows the sting over the dismissal and pushes past it, grasping for a new conversation to ease the tension. She asks him what ended up happening with his assignment, who did he get partnered with? Lucas scowls.

Lucas: I don’t want to talk about it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is seated on the couch in the living room, helping EZRA MINKUS with his homework. Ezra is working hard, but Farkle is zoned out. When his little brother complains about his half-hearted state, he snaps out of it but argues against the fact that he’s acting any sort of way. Regardless, it’s evident that Ezra greatly values the attention of his favorite brother.

JENNIFER MINKUS comes into the living room, jokingly commenting that it’s such a surprise to see Farkle out of his bedroom. He’s been acting too much like Uri as of late. She asks if it’s nice to be back at school and in routine, also seeing how he’s feeling. She touches his forehead to check his temperature.

Farkle shrugs away from the touch, brushing off the topic and instead focusing on school. He complains about the current assignment they’re doing.

Jennifer: Who are you working with, then? Maya?

Farkle: [ with a snort ] I wish. I mean, she wishes. No, I’m stuck with Lucas.

Jennifer: Lucas? Is that the shifty-looking one who used to chase you around during class and threaten you with power tools?

Farkle: Only in theory. But yes.

Jennifer: … well, I suppose it’s nice you’ve become… friends, then.

Farkle looks disgusted at the notion. He goes back to focusing on Ezra’s homework page.

Farkle: Believe me, we are not friends.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

To that end, Jack is meeting with Lucas to discuss his feelings over being partnered with Farkle. He also takes the opportunity to lightly broach the topic of his absence earlier during the first week and his overall… headspace coming off of how last year ended.

Although it’s the first we’ve seen of Lucas being back in Jack’s office this season, the atmosphere between them is comfortable. Lucas looks perfectly at home in the chair across from Jack’s desk. The friction from the start of last year is long gone, instead building on the familiarity and rapport the two of them started to build during the spring.

Still, that doesn’t mean Lucas is an easy conversationalist. He’s surprisingly aloof about the duet assignment, but it’s a clear projection that Jack can see right through. For all the effort Jack puts into trying to have an honest dialogue, he doesn’t get very far, but it’s clear that he’s taking this unique position he has with a student like Lucas more seriously than before.

Jack: I’m only trying to see where your head’s at.

Lucas: Sure you wanna go down that rabbit hole? [ Cheekily. ] Scary place.

Jack, deadpan: Yes, I’m quaking. [ a beat ] I just want you recognize that I’m listening. There’s a place for you to express your opinions.

Lucas blinks at him, the conversation taking on a more meaningful slant. For a moment, it seems as though he might actually say something of value.

Lucas: … I gotta go.

He doesn’t wait for approval, slipping out the door and back into the crowd transitioning between classes. Jack sighs, sauntering out after him.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

As Jack emerges from the front office, he takes a second to look around him. The students running from place to place, the school day continuing on in spite of everything that has unfolded in these halls. He looks at it all with a mixture of pride and exhaustion -- for all the things they’ve built in these walls, there’s so much work to be done.

Something has to make the struggle worth it. Something has to give the job meaning…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Sentimental Man” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Jack Hunter

The song conveys just that, highlighting Jack’s attachment to the school and the students as he wanders the halls. He feels responsible for all of the students in their care, and wants to help them reach their greatest potential with any opportunities they can offer them.

Where the lyrics shift focus to Elphaba, Jack’s focus shifts to Lucas. He watches from afar as Lucas closes his locker and disappears into the crowd, expressing his dedication to making sure he’s taking advantage of all he’s capable of just like everyone else (“Cause I think everyone deserves the chance to fly…”)

Case in point, Jack takes his role at AAA quite seriously, and he intends to zero in on one of their most troubled students. For whatever reason he’s been granted a shred of respect and trust where others have not, and he’s not going to waste it.

As the orchestration peters out, he leisurely makes his way back to the office.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Charlie are rehearsing together in their usual studio, having put in a good morning workout. Charlie is in the process of stretching while Zay texts with Riley about their assignment, the former teasing him about he doesn’t take his cool down routine nearly serious enough. One day, it’s really going to come back to bite him.

Zay: It’s fine, I know my own body. I’ve got bionic muscles.

Charlie: That can’t be true.

Zay: It’s… it’s a joke. Like bionic… God, you are hopeless.

Charlie changes tracks, noting his frustration about how things are between him and Riley. He feels like there’s a wall up between them ever since the AAAC, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. As Zay comes and takes his hands to help pull him to his feet, Charlie questions if he’d be willing to keep an ear out since they’re working together this week.

Zay: I mean, I’m not going to be your spy or anything, but if it comes up I’ll see what I can figure out.

At this point, Charlie will take anything. He gives him an appreciative nod.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle is at his locker, reading through a text exchange with Lucas (listed simply in his contacts as Jackass.) Given the simple “no” that he sent in response to Farkle’s last message regarding their assignment, it seems like they won’t be doing much work on it at all.

All things considered, Farkle doesn’t seem bothered. He’s resigned as he unloads his books and grabs his rehearsal duffle, surprised when Eric calls to him from down the hall. He asks if he has a moment for a quick chat. From the expression on his face, that seems like the last thing Farkle wants to do, but he obliges.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

It’s clear that Farkle is not at all relaxed in Eric’s usually comforting space. He avoids eye contact as Eric starts a conversation with him, asking how he’s feeling about the new year given everything that unfolded at the end of last semester. They haven’t exactly had the chance to unpack all of that.

Farkle shrugs it off, jittery as he sits under Eric’s psychological microscope. When the focus shifts to his sudden partnership with Lucas, Farkle seizes the opportunity to seem affable and claims that he’ll put in a more pointed effort to get that duet up and running. If it will get the well-meaning counselor off his back, he’ll do just about anything.

Eric starts to double back to everything that remains turned upside from last year, but the bell ringing for class gives Farkle the excuse to bolt. He requests a late pass, already gearing up to get the hell out of there.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie, YINDRA AMINO, and Zay are talking on stage when Riley wanders over to join them, intending to discuss the project with Zay. There’s an awkward beat as she acknowledges Charlie, but avoids looking at him any further through the duration of the conversation.

However, the universe has other plans. In the midst of discussing their song choice, Dylan flutters over and starts to drag Zay away, reminding him that he agreed to help him and Asher with the staging of their assignment. Yindra also gets distracted, NIGEL CHEY pulling her into a different discussion. Suddenly, it’s just Riley and Charlie, stuck in conversation after not speaking to one another for months.

Charlie speaks first, trying to find a clever way to break the ice. It doesn’t work, so he instead switches into apologizing about everything with the AAAC.

Charlie: Look, I’m sorry about the Instagram. I shouldn’t have done what I did. Everything just blew up so fast, and --

Riley: Charlie, please, stop. I get what you’re trying to do, trust me. I’ve been attempting to smooth things over because of that stupid page basically since summer. But I’m not… I’m not ready to deal with this yet. With you.

Charlie is evidently disappointed. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how. Especially given that he can’t give her a good reason for why it happened.

Riley: I can’t even figure out why you would -- I’m just not there yet. To forgive you, let alone forget. I’m sorry.

Either way, he can take a hint. He nods and backs off, Zay returning just in time to get a full dose of the strain. He tries to say something to ease the tension, but Riley simply tells him they’ll catch up later and excuses herself.

In the house, Farkle is straggling after Lucas and attempting to negotiate with him as they walk through the aisles towards the booth. Although he isn’t keen to do the assignment either, he thinks they need to do something just to get everyone off their backs.

Lucas: Look, pick whatever stupid loud song you wanna do, and I’ll put the spotlight on you and we’ll call it a day. There. Assignment finished.

Solid plan, but Farkle still isn’t convinced. Although he’s stuck with his least favorite person, he’s dying to have an actual conversation with someone rather than continuing to stay isolated. It’s a paradoxical dilemma, and he ends up suggesting they still meet to go over logistics anyway.

Lucas does his equivalent of a feral cat growl, but agrees. He can set the place to meet and he’ll give him fifteen minutes of his time.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay and Riley are leaving the auditorium together, deciding where they’ll meet for their after school rehearsal. For once it seems as though Riley has his full attention… until Maya swoops in, asking for help with her and Isadora’s choreography. She pulls him away, Riley somehow alone in the hall again.

She hesitates, looking around her and not knowing where to go. She spots CLARISSA CRUZ, HALEY FISHER, and Darby together chatting and starts in that direction, but they disperse before she can get close enough to join them. It’s a no go on the techies, seated on the steps outside the side entrance to the auditorium. It’s a no on Farkle, standing at his locker alone.

It’s a no on Lucas, although Riley clearly wishes it wasn’t. She watches from afar as he shuts his locker and takes off in the opposite direction, not even casting a backwards glance in her direction. With a sigh, she wanders over to her locker.

Inside the door, it’s practically a relic of the way things used to be. There are pictures from the past year much like Farkle’s locker, only the way Riley’s are arranged demonstrate the care and love she puts into maintaining them. It’s evidence of a different time, when she felt like she knew who she was and who her friends were.

She hesitates on a photo of her, Lucas, and Isadora, then drifts to one set up right below it. It’s solely of Lucas, taken sometime around last year’s duet assignment when they were spending a lot of time together alone. Feels like a million years ago.

Riley glances to her phone, finding the message thread between the two of them. The last messages were sent months ago -- early in the summer, apologies from Riley and a plead to talk about things that went unanswered.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Talk To Me” as performed by Bye Bye Birdie! Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Asher Garcia, Nigel Chey, Charlie Gardner, and Nick Yogi)

As Riley closes her locker, she leans back against the metal and launches into the melancholy Broadway tune. It concisely captures her frustration with the situation at hand -- hoping that Lucas can’t just be completely over her, knowing that if they just had the chance to talk things through things might be different.

This is accented by different cuts to Riley watching him from afar and wondering the same things; in class, in the auditorium, separated by the courtyard windows during lunch. It’s similar to her former 50s crooner in 1.07, although the circumstances are more fraught than the simplicity of back then.

The barbershop quartet comes in the form of Asher, Nigel, Charlie, and Yogi, who saunter into the hall behind her and provide the vocal backing for her musical plea. They’re dressed in matching color-coordinated vests, obviously not an actual presence in the scene but more so a figment of Riley’s imagination.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

They also serve the purpose of dancing with Riley, intercut through the other sequences. It’s all reminiscent of the dancing she used to do with Lucas -- up to the grand swell about 2 minutes in where her imagination fills in that gap. For a brief reprieve, it is Lucas dancing with her…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Until reality disrupts the dream. Riley nearly rams into Lucas in the hallway, him catching her from stumbling on instinct. There’s a moment where they lock eyes, all of the potential in the world between them…

Then Lucas walks away. He slides past her, leaving her standing there.

The quartet takes over the last vocals as Riley ends up back where she started, alone in the hallway with nowhere to go. She’s stranded herself, and the only person she truly wants to talk to is the one already walking away.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Is A Woman” as performed by Ariana Grande || Instrumental

Ariana is playing through Isadora’s bluetooth speaker, banged up and cheap but gets the job done. She and Maya are walking through steps for a potential routine to the pop hit, the latter speeding through it and enthusiastically discussing how certain elements will work in the final performance.

Farkle enters through the dressing room doors just as they’re running through steps for the chorus. He hangs back in the shadows and watches from the wings, witnessing his own replacement happening in real time.

Isadora is doing her best to keep up. Interestingly enough, she’s starting to look a little bit more like Maya -- her hair has been styled with more care than usual, and the color palette of her outfit is lighter, complementing the pink and white that Maya wears. Her lips have a bit of a shine to them, the most neutral lip gloss Isa could find amongst Catherina’s extensive makeup collection.

But she’s nowhere near at the same rehearsal level as the reigning diva yet, so she gives up about halfway through and claims she can’t do this. Maya jogs and pauses the music.

The two of them debrief, Maya offering to walk Isadora through whatever steps she might be having trouble with. But it’s not the routine itself, it’s everything. It’s just a lot to adjust to at once, so she just needs some time to get used to it. She’ll keep practicing, but it isn’t clicking right now. Maya grants her the right to take a break, Isadora heading out through the other doors by the costume loft.

Farkle waits until Maya is alone to make himself known, stepping into the stage lights and making snarky commentary on how her new pet project doesn’t seem to be going so smoothly. She brushes him off and continues to gather her things.

But he doesn’t want the conversation to end. This is the most attention she’s paid him in weeks, and he doesn’t want to let it go. So he keeps it going the only way he can think of by digging the knife in further, insinuating that she must’ve had to stoop low if she had to go through the techies to try and find someone to replace him.

Maya turns on him, giving him her full attention as she tells him off. Despite what he might believe, she’s not using Isadora, and certainly not to fill some void he thinks he left. He shouldn’t flatter himself that much importance.

Maya: Izzy isn't just some “project” for me. Believe it or not, I don't compartmentalize my friendships by how they most benefit me.

The tension takes on a familiar slant, a competitive edge emerging that needs to be expressed through music. Clarissa and Haley enter together with their cellos just as Farkle and Maya are staring each other down, claiming that they booked the auditorium for this time slot. So what are they doing there? And aren’t they not partners this week?

Maya states they’re just in time, as they can help wrap this all up. When Haley is like “but we came to rehearse our thing,” Maya doesn’t seem bothered.

Maya: Consider it a warm-up… if you can keep up.

Clarissa and Haley roll their eyes, but they settle in anyway. The faster they can let them get out their antics, the faster they can actually rehearse.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Smooth Criminal” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Maya Hart (feat. Clarissa Cruz & Haley Fisher)

Clarissa and Haley carry the heft of this number on their cellos, Maya and Farkle parading around them and channeling all their frustration with one another into the vocals. It’s an electric duet, and for what it’s worth, it’s the most energized Farkle has seemed since the school year started. There’s actual passion behind the performance, which he’s been lacking for some time.

It’s also undeniable that the two of them make excellent partners. They’re perfectly matched, as they have been since they met. There’s no one else who challenges them like the other to raise the bar, and there’s an appreciation of the other’s talent present despite how at odds they are.

But one quick duet isn’t going to set things right. Although Farkle seems to have gotten something meaningful out of the exchange, he’s obviously surprised when Maya continues to dismiss him as soon as they’re wrapped. She gathers her things and floats out with no more than a short goodbye.

Farkle swallows, not taking the rejection well. Clarissa and Haley break him out of it, asking if he can leave already so they can rehearse. Haven’t they done enough?

Backing off, he makes a dash for the dressing rooms.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Given his shaken state, Farkle seems to be taking this harder than just a duet gone sour. He stumbles into the dressing room, leaning against the counter and trying to calm his breathing. His hands are shaking.

He lifts his gaze, looking at himself in the mirror. It doesn’t seem like he likes what he sees. He curses under his breath, suddenly feeling like it’s a thousand degrees. He pulls off his sweater, leaving him in his plain tee as he crumbles into a sitting position against the mirror and haphazardly bundling the garment in his hands.

Above him, the wall clock ticks to a new minute --

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

Just as the clock in the practice room does, where Lucas is sitting alone. He glances around him with mild interest and obvious distrust, having never been in this part of the school before. He taps his feet impatiently, checking his watch.

Clearly, Farkle isn’t coming. Rolling his eyes, Lucas gets to his feet. He takes some of the writing utensils from the communal stash just because he can, kicking at the piano bench for good measure before marching out.

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Charlie is seated on the couch with his homework, half paying attention while ROSIE GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER watch a show together. Daisy is playing with their beagle SKIPPY on the floor in front of the couch, making a face at something that plays out on screen.

Daisy: Why the heck did that happen? That doesn’t make any sense.

Rosie: It’s network TV, it doesn’t have to make sense.

To Rosie’s curiosity, Charlie doesn’t seem all that interested in the show. He’s focused on his phone instead, rereading his last text from Zay. He’s asking if he’s alright after the weird exchange he and Riley must’ve had, given how off things felt when he walked back over.

He wants to talk to him about it, but he’s not just going to give him a call while hanging out with his sisters. Especially not when they’re so nosy.

Rosie: Who are you texting?

Charlie: Huh? What? No one.

Rosie: Yeah you are. Your messages are open.

Charlie: Am I typing? No.

Daisy: Why are you acting surprised? He’s always on his phone.

Charlie: No I am not.

Rosie: Yeah you are. You basically live on it. It’s like you’re in love with it.

Daisy: [ laughing ] Charlie has a girlfriend.

Charlie: Shut up, no I don’t.

Daisy: Yeah you do. The phone.

Rosie: I don’t know where, but I’m positive there has to be something in the Bible about how love between man and technology is unholy.

Charlie: I bet if you look hard enough, you’ll find the verse where it says you’re annoying.

Daisy: Being annoying isn’t a sin. I’ve checked.

Both Rosie and Charlie seem to want to know more about that, but ELEANOR GARDNER entering interrupts the conversation. She explains what she’s planning on making for dinner, and then offhandedly mentions that someone needs to walk Skippy.

A lightbulb goes off for Charlie. He loudly volunteers to do it, demonstrating a little too much enthusiasm for something like walking their family beagle. But aside from judgmental expressions from his sisters, the moment passes without question. Charlie whistles for Skippy to follow him, going to grab the leash.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Riley have convened for rehearsal, in the midst of walking through some harmonies together. It’s clear that Riley is enjoying the quality time. At least if everyone else seems to have inevitably lost interest in her, she still has her first friend.

After they decide on a certain chord progression, Zay subtly changes the subject and asks about what happened in class today. When he came back to work, things seemed pretty icy between her and Charlie. Riley doesn’t want to talk about it, but after a little bit of prodding she admits to the fact that it’s hard to warm up to him again. Not only because he so blatantly used her without any sort of signs, but more so because she has no clue why he did it. It would be easier to grapple with if she had a sense of closure around it, or a clear motive.

Zay obviously wants to grant her that, but he knows it’s not his place. He grows distracted anyway, getting a text from Charlie asking if he can meet him on his walk with Skippy. Zay jumps at the opportunity and tells Riley he has to go, promising they’ll pick this back up tomorrow. He’s booking it before she can argue against it, once again leaving her in the dust.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

Maya saunters into the diner, nodding at some of the familiar busboys before hopping up to the counter to chat with KATY HART. Her mother senses her mood before she even opens her mouth, asking if something happened at school.

Maya goes on to lament the situation with Farkle as Katy slides a slice of pie across the counter towards her. She immediately digs in, accenting her frustration with stabs of her fork. She recounts the encounter with Farkle and derides his accusation that she’s simply replacing him with Isadora.

Katy: Well… do you feel like that’s what you’re doing?

Maya: No. No, I’m not. God forbid I like other people or make new friends. Maybe I like Isadora because she’s badass and talented and could also kill a man if she had to.

Katy: Ah, the true quality of a good friendship…

Maya: It’s not fair. It’s not fair of him to waltz in and act like I’m the one being shady when he’s the one who blew everything up in the first place. And then make it feel like a crime to move on. I shouldn’t have to feel bad about dropping someone who I don’t trust.

Katy is, of course, on Maya’s side. She agrees wholeheartedly, and even states that she likes that she’s branched outside of her usual circle. Isadora seems like a nice change of pace, and it’s always beneficial to make a friend who can teach you something rather than reflect the world you’re already familiar with.

On the other hand, she points out that there’s a whole side to this experience that Maya doesn’t know about. Neither of them have any idea what’s going on with Farkle, and it’s possible that his actions are less about her and more about his own attempts to grapple with the situation.

Katy: It’s impossible to know why people do the things they do until they tell you. And most of the time, it’s rarely a cut-and-dry reasoning anyway. There are so many different motivating factors at play, especially at your age.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, stabbing at the pie and taking a grumpy bite. Katy finishes her musing, going on to state that nine times out of ten, people are acting out of their own insecurities rather than anything to do with the people who they’re confronting. Could be fear, could be jealousy, could be self-preservation…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Charlie is walking along with Skippy, distracted as he waits for Zay to show up. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Zay sneaks up behind him, poking him in the ribs and surprising him. Charlie elbows him as he falls into step beside him, beginning to discuss what he wanted to talk about in the first place.

Zay gets right to the point, stating that he thinks Charlie should consider just… telling Riley the truth. It’s hard for her to hear him out when she has literally no clue why he even did it, and most of the reasons she’s probably contemplating make him look far worse than making her his unwitting beard for a sense of protection.

As logical as this reasoning is, Charlie does not seem ready to consider such a notion.

Charlie: What? No. I can’t do that.

Zay: Dare I ask, why not? I mean, not like why, I know why obviously.

Charlie: Yeah.

Zay: But like, Riley Matthews is the last person you should be concerned about knowing. She’s like the nicest human being alive, and also is part of the community. And I seriously doubt she’d ever say anything to anyone if you didn’t --

Charlie cuts him off, not able to wrap his head around it. He wants to make things right with her, but that kind of option is off the table. Zay seems a bit frustrated with this mindset, as it doesn’t bode well for their relationship if he’s still so deeply entrenched in keeping all of it a secret… but he also understands. Of course he does.

It’s a complicated situation, and there is no easy solution. So they’ll keep walking the tightrope, looking for compromises along the way…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are convened at their usual spot in the back section, chatting in the morning before class. Isadora comes to visit them, but she looks different. She’s suddenly looking a lot more like a Maya carbon copy, her makeup enhanced with a darker lip gloss and eye makeup. Her outfit is made up of borrowed clothes from Maya and Catherina -- a high-waisted denim skirt with sheer dark tights, and dark sweater with a collar peeking out, a sparkling butterfly brooch pinned to the right lapel.

Lucas descends from the booth, decidedly disturbed as soon as he sees her. He asks her what the hell happened to her, and she claims she’s just trying a new look. Stretching her sense of style.

Nate: More like getting swallowed by it.

Isadora isn’t sure how to defend herself. To be honest, it’s not the worst to be dressed confidently like Maya, but she’d be lying if she claimed it felt true to her. Lucas can’t even look at her, pushing past her and heading out.

Lucas: If you’ll excuse me, I have to go bash my head into the wall until I wake up from this nightmare. Let me know when you’ve stopped being possessed by mini-Christina.

Dave: Applegate? I thought she was great in Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.

Asher: … I think he means Aguilera.

Dave: Oh.

Once Lucas is gone, Asher and Dylan assure Isadora that they think she looks fine. Jade agrees, even offering to help personalize it with some more Isa-like touches if that would be ideal. Isadora contemplates it, telling her she’ll get back to her on that.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Shawn comes by Harper’s classroom, sauntering in as he announces that it seems the Lucas and Farkle “simple solution” isn’t going so well. How does he know? Because Lucas just informed him that Farkle blew off their second attempt at a meeting.

Shawn: Still so sure about your brilliant little fix?

Harper is unimpressed by his condescending attitude, sticking to her guns. She rises to her feet, coming around her desk to speak plainly with him.

Harper: So you would rather bend to their poor behavior and reward them for it, rather than, I don’t know… teach them to get along? Or punish such bad antics?

Shawn, seriously: Listen. There’s a very delicate balance at play here with these students that you don’t understand. The least you could do is take the advice of those who know better than you.

To be fair, Shawn isn’t entirely wrong. But his delivery is terrible, and Harper grows offended at the insinuation. Before she can retort, Clarissa and Haley arrive to complain about how Maya and Farkle used their rehearsal space unfairly.

This is about the tenth time Harper has taken a specific complaint about Farkle Minkus. She starts to construct a solution for them to consider, but Shawn intervenes and offers his own two cents. Once again talking over her without giving her the chance to learn the ropes or contribute.

Haley and Clarissa thank Shawn, not caring about who gives them the advice. Shawn tosses Harper one more stressed look, warning her to think a little as he storms out.

Oh, boy, is she going to think a little. And more than that, she’s going to take action.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Harper has pulled both Lucas and Farkle aside after class is dismissed for lunch, informing them that they’ll both be spending the break in detention in her classroom. Given that neither of them have provided her updates about their project, she’s certain they could use the designated collaboration time. That way, perhaps, they’ll at least scrape together a passing grade.

Both of them seem less than enthused, glaring at each other.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley is heading towards the lunchroom, but looking through the doors at all her classmates milling about and continuing on with or without her, it suddenly feels like too much. She spins on her heel and heads in a different direction.

INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY

Riley pokes her head in, finding Cory opening lunch at his desk. He seems surprised but happy to see her, granting her an invitation to join him when she asks if she can come in. He playfully questions why she would bother to do such a thing, giving her the opportunity to unpack what’s going on.

She sort of expresses her current feelings of isolation, explaining the general idea of the problem at hand and how she feels kind of left behind. Some of her friendships aren’t in the shape they used to be, and she doesn’t have a sense of belonging anymore.

Cory, being the dreamer that he is, encourages her to keep putting her best foot forward. In his opinion, the best thing she can do is to keep her chin high and refuse to be ignored. Not let those friends go without a fight, if they’re truly friends she wants to keep.

It’s well-meant and thoughtful advice, but nothing he hasn’t told her before. Riley seems disillusioned as she starts to chew on her lunch.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Maya and Isadora are eating lunch together, sharing a table with Zay, Nigel, and Yindra. They’re dissecting the problem of progressing on their duet, Isadora admitting that part of it is that this is the first true performance she has to give in front of the class. Let alone alongside someone as strong as Maya. She’s just not prepared for it.

It’s stage fright, plain and simple. Maya claims she just needs to stop overthinking it, that no one is going to be focused on anything but how awesome they are. An idea seems to strike her as she’s explaining how to accomplish just that… that all Isadora needs to do is break the initial performance anxiety. And, well...

Maya, deviously: No better time than the present.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Looking At Me” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Juniors)

Pushing up from the table, Maya launches us into our first big blowout number of the season. She playfully begins the iconic pop anthem, pulling her classmates into the fun as she goes and relaying the message loud and clear -- Isadora has nothing to worry about, because everyone will be looking at her anyway.

The lyrics “Don’t just stand there staring, honey, try to move your feet,” are directed at her duet partner, tugging Isadora into the fray and giving her the encouragement to just lose herself in the number. The two of them dance together a fair amount throughout the jam session.

The other reason it’s such a major number is because it’s the first number that loosely incorporates everyone. It carries the same energy as “Dancin’ On the Sidewalk” from all those months ago, only there’s no Lucas around to set off the alarm. And maybe he should be, because the performance is definitely fire.

The dancing has kicked up ten notches. Maya has small moments with Zay and Charlie, who also serve to lead other groups. The two of them also dance a little with each other, although evidently less comfortably than we know they could. Maya spins Isadora to dance with other fellow performers, and while she stumbles a bit at first, the more she gets into it the more confident she becomes. She’s engaging with others, focusing less on what they’re thinking and just having fun.

And when Lucas is away, the techie tots will play. There are a couple key shots of Asher and Dylan dancing together, charming as ever but also showing off that they’re maybe... actually good performers? Dave and Nate are grooving on the table tops. Nigel pulls Jade into a spin, getting her to join the dance. Jeff does some signature break-dancing.

It’s energetic. It’s a showstopping vocal from Maya, who ends it on a split with a hair flip and wink. It’s fun more than anything else, which feels groundbreaking for a semester that has felt so heavy with unresolved tension.

Now we’ve truly kicked off the season.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The fun is not being felt in the black box, where Lucas and Farkle are trapped for detention. They’re sitting in silence, Farkle keeping his head down and waiting for the torture to cease.

Lucas isn’t making it easy. His version of whittling time away involves tapping his pencil, restless and fidgety as they wait for their sentence to end. He’s like a one-man drum show. Farkle lifts his head in irritation, glaring at him even though Lucas hardly pays him any attention. It takes Farkle snapping to get him to stop, startling him enough to drop the pencil.

Farkle grumbles about how of course he had to get stuck with the worst human being at AAA. Lucas claims that’s rich coming from him, pointing out that it’s both of them that are stuck in here alone with one another.

Lucas, mockingly: Maybe, in some sick, twisted way, we’re not so different. That’s what they want us to learn, isn’t it?

Farkle: Don’t make me laugh. Like I would ever be compared to you. I’m not so immured by self-satisfaction and smugness that I can’t recognize how useless I am.

[ Lucas doesn’t seem irritated by this assessment. He smirks, nodding along as Farkle reads him for filth. ]

Farkle: I don’t try to bring everybody else down to my level by constantly tearing down their passions until all that’s left is my insatiable need to burn down every good thing that crosses my path just for the sake of chaos. Just to fucking feel something other than my own overwhelming mediocrity that’s going to keep me directionless and alone for the rest of my sorry existence.

Lucas: … maybe so. But I think I should point out that it’s both of us who were deemed too unbearable by the rest of our peers.

Farkle glowers at him until he can’t stomach his detached expression any longer, looking away and gritting his teeth. While they may hate one another, the fact of the matter is so does everyone else. So there they are, stuck in hell together and facing the consequences.

The silence is suffocating with the truth eating away all the oxygen in the room. When the bell rings it’s an immediate relief, Lucas jumping to his feet.

Lucas: Well, I think we can both agree this assignment is not fucking happening. Guess we’ll be taking the L.

Farkle: … maybe so.

Lucas nods, not wasting another second to get away from him. Farkle doesn’t move nearly as fast, still processing the reality Lucas forced him to confront.

INT. HARPER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Harper is having dinner with her girlfriend, STELLA CASTILLO (27). She’s also a former alumni of AAA, and their dynamic somewhat seems to mirror Isadora and Maya in terms of personality. Stella is lively, opinionated, and not at all impressed by the behavior of Shawn and the students as Harper laments the treatment she’s been navigating.

Stella gives Harper the pep talk she’s been needing, reminding her that she’s perfectly qualified to be in this position. She needs to trust her gut.

Stella: Look, you know about Triple A, alright? You endured that school, you survived it, which is way more than John or whoever can say for himself.

Harper: Shawn.

Stella: Like it matters. The point is that you’re a badass, you’re in control, and you should not be bending to the criticism of some grumpy white dude who thinks he’s the authority on a job his older brother gave him when he was having his mid-life crisis.

True words, even if the nuances to the situation are a bit more complex. Harper thanks her, taking her hand and allowing her to lean forward and give her a kiss.

Still, the universe seems to disagree…

Jack, pre-lap: This has nothing to do with your ability.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is meeting with Harper before school. From the expression on his face it’s evident he’s apologetic, whereas she simply seems peeved. She’s squinting at him, attempting to keep up with their conversation.

Jack: Believe me, I hired you for a reason. You know I think you’re more than capable of handling this job. But Shawn is correct in that this crop of students… they’re a unique group, like I’ve said. He might be right in that it could help for you to pay attention to --

Harper: So, what? Your baby brother decided to come crying to you about things not going his way, rather than discussing it with me like an adult?

Jack assures her that he’s not on anybody’s side, and he just wants to find a way for them to work effectively together and in a way that best benefits the students. But Harper is so angry at that point she sort of tunes him out, simply smiling and nodding along.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Can Do Better” as performed by LOVA || Performed by Harper Burgess

As Harper emerges from the office, the opening whistles ease us into this sassy “fuck you” of a feminist anthem. As she marches through the halls in her leather-clad, badass fury, there is a certain power to her finally expressing all of her resentment towards the men who have been giving her grief since she stepped into the position (even in spite of all the complexities to each situation).

The AAA girls back her in passing, echoing the empowering sentiments. It’s a simple arrangement, but Harper’s delivery alone packs a real punch.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora is in the dressing room when Riley arrives that morning, the two of them hesitating when they see one another. It’s been a hot minute since they’ve actually had direct contact, and although both of them don’t seem unhappy to see the other, they have no idea where they stand.

Riley makes a small joke about her new look, admitting that she actually thought she was Maya for a second. Although the comment is harmless, after enduring similar commentary all week long Isadora finds herself snapping at her. She’s sick of everyone making those judgements and throwing their opinions at her.

Riley is quick to apologize, explaining that she didn’t mean anything by it. Awkward silence settles between them again, but it’s clear that Isadora feels bad about the way things are.

Isadora: I… I don’t know how to handle this situation.

Riley: I know.

Isadora: With you, and with Lucas --

She cuts herself off, not even sure she should bring him up around her. Riley nods along, already knowing where this conversation is heading. Another dismissal. Before Isadora can say anything more, she beats her to it.

Riley: I just… I know how easy it is to get caught up in being someone else because you think it’ll make things easier. It’s easier to be someone else, sometimes… but I gotta tell you, the Dora I knew? [ a beat ] She’s already tough to beat.

Riley offers one more tight smile, finishing dropping her things. She leaves Isadora alone, hanging on that moment of kindness in spite of the strain.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Harper marches into her classroom, still steaming. Farkle is there, waiting for her to inform her that he and Lucas weren’t able to reach an agreement. He doesn’t think he’ll be turning in anything this week after all.

Whereas this behavior might’ve flown with Angela, it’s not going to fly with Harper. Especially not now, when it feels like the entire world is against her. So Farkle inevitably ends up on the other end of all her anger, receiving a true verbal lashing.

Harper: Oh, is that so? You just don’t think it’ll happen? That all?

Farkle: I’m just saying, given the circumstances you forced me into --

Harper: No, no, I won’t be taking your blame, Mister Minkus. I don’t know what kind of treatment you’re used to from Miss Moore, but I’m not here to cater to your petulance. I’m here to teach you, which you might have known had you deemed it worthy to show up on the first day.

Farkle, stunned: I… I was sick --

Harper: Well, here’s your quick make-up lesson. There will be no more doing whatever you damn well please. I knew students just like you when I was enrolled here, Mister Minkus. You’re nothing new. And believe it or not, that horrible attitude of yours isn’t going to get a pass anymore.

[ Farkle is speechless. He looks a little sick as Harper concludes her tirade. ]

Harper: This isn’t last year. I’m not Miss Moore. And whether we like it or not, you better get ready for a whole lot of change.

Harper storms out, on her way to the auditorium. Farkle is shell-shocked, standing there in horror… until he suddenly bolts out of the door.

INT. AAA - BOYS BATHROOM - DAY

Farkle ducks into a stall just in time to vomit, whole body shaking as he collapses back against the wall. Only he’s not alone, which he discovers after the initial panic passes through him.

Charlie: … Farkle?

Farkle closes his eyes, cursing lightly to himself. When he pushes to his feet and emerges from the stall, Charlie is there at the sink and watching him warily. He tries to question if he’s okay, but Farkle ignores him and focuses on rinsing out his mouth at the adjacent sink.

Charlie can tell there’s something more going on than just an upset stomach. He’s familiar with the feeling, after all. He tries to find a way into the conversation, searching for a commonality to utilize as a bond.

Charlie: I get that this year isn’t turning out like we probably thought. [ sardonically ] I guess the confessions page didn’t do either of us any favors, huh?

Farkle is unimpressed by his attempt at bonding. In fact, the comparison sort of seems to piss him off. He turns on him, narrowing his eyes.

Farkle: Actually, I don’t think it’s quite the same. Because I didn’t feel so insecure in my own masculinity that I had to submit fake relationship posts about myself just to feel good, or maybe feel like I’m not just a background character in my own life.

Yikes. That’s a deep cut, and Charlie gets the message to back off. Farkle wipes his mouth with a paper towel and takes a deep breath, defaulting to defensive because it’s increasingly becoming all he knows how to be.

Farkle: So, no. I don’t think you have any idea.

Farkle flurries out. Although it’s clear his words stung, concern still lingers in Charlie’s features. Like he can sense something about the situation isn’t quite right.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

In a rare moment, Riley manages to catch TOPANGA LAWRENCE when she’s at home. She’s just finishing up a business call, pleasantly greeting Riley as she comes to join her at the kitchen table. Riley isn’t sure what she’s searching for as she starts the conversation -- advice, or maybe to simply be acknowledged by someone -- but she ends up asking for more time with her.

Riley: I know you’ve been doing a lot of small things with Auggie, and everything, so I was thinking that… I don’t know, maybe you and I could also --

Topanga: Oh, yes. Yes! Riley, I would love to do something. Some mother-daughter quality time would be spectacular.

Riley lights up, obviously happy about her mother’s enthusiasm. They begin attempting to sort out dates, although that quickly throws a wrench into things before they even get off the ground. Where Topanga is free this weekend, rehearsals for the musical are kicking up. When Riley is free, Topanga is balancing major trial meetings.

Topanga: Okay, I love this idea. But can we come back to this? Put a pin in it? I’ve just got a lot of stuff up in the air right now, I’ll be able to give it more focus after this deposition is wrapped and our divorce is fully finalized…

Riley internalizes her disappointment, giving her a smile and assuring her it’s no problem. Topanga reaches across the table and pats her arm, effectively ending the conversation.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is on the phone with Zay, pacing his room as they talk. It’s clear that seeing Farkle so wigged out earlier really got to him, so he’s confronting some of his stressors head on.

Charlie: I just wanted you to know how sorry I am about how… weird all this has been. With my stupid thing. I know it’s been impacting… what we have.

Zay: It’s not stupid. You know I get it.

Charlie: Yeah, I know, but… [ with a sigh ] things were so much easier when school wasn’t a factor. I know I’ve been coming off like how you feel about this isn’t important, and that’s not true. I don’t feel that way. I wish it didn’t feel that way.

Zay continues to assure him that it’s fine, but his responses sound admittedly a little distracted. Charlie continues to pace, coming to lean against the door to his balcony.

Charlie: I just wish… in an ideal world, things would be different. We could just… be what we are, and we could be doing a duet together this week. Couldn’t it be that easy?

Zay: Well, don’t count that out just yet.

Charlie frowns, asking what he’s talking about. Zay tells him to come outside.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT

Charlie steps out onto his balcony, stunned to see Zay jogging down the street. He’s both happy and horrified to see him, immediately shushing him as he greets him from down below.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tonight” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner

In homage to the sequence in the Broadway classic, Charlie and Zay exchange an effortless back and forth reminiscent of the original film as the orchestra underscores them.

Zay: Come down.

Charlie: No. Are you crazy?

Zay: Just for a minute.

Charlie: [ gazing at him ] … a minute is nowhere near long enough.

Zay: For an hour, then.

Charlie: I can’t.

Zay, with humor: Then forever!

Charlie shushes him again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his door is closed. Zay tells him he’s coming up, climbing his way along the side of the house to join him on his balcony. When he manages to clamber over the side Charlie immediately pulls him away from the edge, speaking in a hushed tone and claiming that he has to go. His parents will hear him, or see them. As he tries to argue the point Charlie shushes him again, Zay returning the gesture playfully.

It’s all fun and games until Eleanor knocks at the door, Charlie covering Zay’s mouth and responding to her questions of if he’s heading to bed. He lies and claims he is, Eleanor not questioning it and giving him a warm “goodnight, Chuckles,” through the door.

The two of them hang in silence for a long moment, Charlie grimacing as he realizes Zay just heard his embarrassing family nickname. He curses and pulls away from him, walking to the other end of the balcony as Zay clearly attempts to hold back a smile.

Zay: … Chuckles?

Charlie, embarrassed: Family nickname.

[ Zay laughs, but it’s endeared. He steps closer to him, earnest. ]

Zay: I like it. And you know, I think they’d like me.

Charlie: [ with a shake of his head ] No. They’re like I used to be. You know… scared.

There’s a beat of heaviness between them. Then Charlie exhales a laugh, shaking his head again and walking away from him as he absorbs the ridiculousness of the situation.

Charlie: Can you imagine? Being scared of Isaiah Babineaux?

Zay: [ laughing along ] See?

[ There’s a beat. Charlie looks at him, expression soft. ]

Charlie: I see you.

Zay, softer: … see only me.

Zay kicks off the song, taking Maria’s verses where Charlie takes Tony’s (specifically “There’s nothing for me but Isaiah / Every sight that I see is Isaiah”). The two of them harmonize together in the small confines of the balcony, dancing and spinning together where possible.

Where it was pretty obvious earlier that they were into one another, this is the moment where their chemistry and affection for another is impossible to deny. There’s something deeper than just attraction between them, growing more resolute with every day and every duet they share.

As it slows down before the second verse, Zay and Charlie have drifted awfully close together for being feet away from the rest of the Gardner household. Charlie manages to pull back from him simply to continue the dance, but as they wrap the first section of the song they end up inevitably back inches apart again.

Still, even the allure of Zay Babineaux isn’t yet powerful enough to make Charlie forget the way things are. He resists the urge to go for a kiss and instead claims he can’t stay, insisting that Zay should get going. Although he protests, Charlie’s soft “please” and bittersweet smile are convincing enough to make him oblige.

As Zay starts climbing down again, he hesitates. Thinking there’s one more thing he needs to say, lest he regret not vocalizing it in the moment.

Zay: You know, at the risk of sounding totally kitsch… [ turning around, locking eyes with him again ] You know you’re my favorite duet, right?

Charlie is clearly touched. A bashful smile crosses his features, and he manages a nod and a soft “yeah” of agreement. Zay returns the nod, giving him a fond smirk and lingering look before finishing the rest of the climb down the side of the house.

As he goes, Charlie leans forward against the balcony and watches him go. He hesitates before calling after Zay, double-checking that they’ll still meet up before school tomorrow. Zay agrees, starting to head down the street… until Charlie stops him again. He asks if they can ditch lunch and pay a visit to the costume loft instead. Zay rolls his eyes, but he’s obviously not opposed to the idea. He agrees, only making it a couple of steps before Charlie stops him one more time.

Charlie: Do you have a family nickname?

[ Zay pauses, debating whether or not to share it. Then he sighs, looking over his shoulder to deliver it. ]

Zay, reluctantly: “Dizzy.”

[ Charlie can’t help but laugh, but he’s appreciative of his willingness to share. His grin is fond as he gazes down at him. ]

Charlie: See you tomorrow, Dizzy.

Zay: [ unable to hold back a smile ] See you, Chuckles.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment longer, easing into the last soft verse of “Tonight.” Then Zay jogs back down the street, disappearing as swiftly as he appeared.

Charlie watches him go, undoubtedly enamored. He’s still smiling as he steps back into his room, shutting the door to the balcony behind him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is doing homework in his room, a half-eaten plate of food sitting forgotten on the bed in front of him. Jennifer pokes her head in, lightly knocking and trying to engage him in conversation. She notes that he didn’t eat much, which he brushes off by stating he felt nauseous at school so he’s just taking it easy.

Jennifer comes in to check his forehead and lymph nodes again, wondering when this relentless bug he has is going to let him live. Farkle shrugs away from her, insisting that he’s fine. He’d be better, in fact, if she could let him rest.

She relents, but pauses as a thought hits her on the way out. It’s unclear whether this is a brand new thought, or perhaps one she’s been ruminating on for a while.

Jennifer: You know, when do you think you’ll have Maya over again?

Farkle: I don’t know.

Jennifer: I’ve only been thinking, it might be good to have some of that vibrant theater energy around here again. Don’t you think? Maybe you should extend the invitation.

Farkle, tightly: I’ll do that.

Given how poorly their last interaction went, we know it’s a lie.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Riley shows up to the dance studio early the next morning to rehearse, Zay already there when she arrives. She makes a joke about how she’s surprised he beat her here, but he states that was sort of the point. He also has something for her -- her favorite coffee order, as well as a scone from Svorski’s he’s deemed the “apology scone.”

Riley: Well I’m not going to say no to that. “Apology scone?”

Zay: Suffice to say, I’ve sort of been all over the place this week. There’s just… a lot going on. But a conversation with someone close to me recently made me realize that it’s important to let people know how much you mean to them.

He goes on to state that while she was the one with her head in the clouds last year, now it’s on him. He fully intended to be there for her this week and he dropped the ball, but no longer. And they’re always going to be in each other’s corners, a shoulder to lean on if they need it, which is a far cry from how many of the other dynamics in their class are doing at present.

Then, of course, they’ve still got a duet to perform. Zay takes the coffee and scone and puts it back on the piano tucked into the corner. He spins back to face her and holds out a hand.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Like Me Better” as performed by Landon Austin || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Riley Matthews

Riley takes his hand, and Zay leads the vocals on this comfortable, endearing acoustic duet. The two of them pass around the verses as they playfully dance together in the studio, demonstrating the iron strength of their friendship.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The rehearsing is intercut with their final performance in class, Riley playing the guitar and harmonizing while Zay does most of the singing. It’s a stripped down rendition, no flash or glitz. But their voices blend well together, and it’s a nice change of pace.

As they wrap the number, Zay reaches out and takes her hand while the class gives them a round of applause. Back in the dance studio, Riley laughs and the two of them embrace.

A nice bright spot in the midst of so much uncertainty.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Harper stops by Jack’s office, finding the principal in the midst of picking through some particularly confusing correspondence. She questions what he’s puzzled over.

Jack: Oh, nothing, nothing… there’s some interested parties attempting to enroll despite our strict enrollment procedures. It’s fine, there’s always a few of these at the start of the school year.

He asks what he can do for her, to which she explains what happened with Lucas and Farkle and how they refused to do the assignment. She’s decided she’ll be punishing them both, as is in within her right as their teacher. Given the behavior she’s observed from both of them, she thinks they could use the discipline.

Jack seems supportive of the authoritarian stance, but he requests that she let him handle Lucas. Whatever she feels Farkle might need she should do within reason, but he’ll take care of their waspish technician. Harper is confused by the distinction, but is more than willing to let him take on the troublemaker so she doesn’t have to.

As Harper heads out, Jack takes another look at the paperwork about enrollment requests. He shakes his head, putting it dismissively to the side.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora pokes her head in, relieved to find Maya getting ready and touching up her makeup before their class performance. Maya greets her cheerfully, only some of her confidence falters when she sees Isadora’s change of appearance.

She’s back to looking more like herself, basically back to her usual attire. However, touches of Maya’s influence still remain, such as a simple necklace that Maya had given to her as part of her makeover, her hair up in a pastel scrunchie, and colorful socks on display that have a pretty pattern on them.

Based on that change alone, Maya has a feeling that this conversation isn’t going to go well. She jokes that she’s somehow inevitably strangled another friendship in her own image, but Isadora refutes this.

Isadora: I’m glad you asked me to be partners. And I’m honestly grateful for your friendship, in some ways I kind of feel like it was something I didn’t know I needed. I think I’m going to learn a lot from you.

Maya: Go on, let me down gently. But…?

Isadora: But… I don’t want to completely become someone else to do it. And part of that is on me -- I think I become so focused on what the other person expects that I forget they should be liking me for me. So I sort of let things spiral out of control.

Maya: Doesn’t help when the other person is a diva control freak.

Isadora: [ with a shake of her head ] That’s called passion, and it’s not a bad thing. I’m just… trying to find the balance.

This, Maya can understand. Given how she is reevaluating her own image too now that she’s no longer pretending to be Prada, she gets that feeling more than ever. Isadora does comment that she does like some of Maya’s clothes, and might do a little personalizing of her own style to incorporate the things she likes. She jokingly tugs at Maya’s collar, disrupting the perfect crease.

Isadora: Maybe we can “grunge” you down a bit, too.

Maya: [ intrigued ] Oh, don’t try and stop me.

They exchange a laugh. Isadora admits she isn’t sure what this revelation will mean for their performance, but Maya is already brainstorming. She tells Isadora to focus on her killer vocals, and to leave the rest to her.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Is A Woman (Acoustic)” as performed by Ceresia || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. Maya Hart)

Maya and Isadora follow Riley and Zay’s toned down lead, ditching the hyped up pop performance for something more stripped. Maya plays guitar while Isadora takes the brunt of the vocals, allowing her the chance to show off her already strong pipes while still having the flexibility to find her sound.

It’s also a change of pace that Isadora is front and center while Maya is taking a back seat, a far cry from her triumphant claim to center stage at the beginning of the year. The rendition and the way they harmonize is an indication of growth for the both of them.

Perhaps, they’ll be able to find the balance for both of their personas. All in due time.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is back in the chair opposite Jack’s desk, the tone of the meeting a little less casual than it was earlier in the week. Jack finishes reprimanding him for his refusal to participate.

Jack: Look, you’ve made good strides compared to the last couple of years. We haven’t had a complaint from the fire station at all this year.

Lucas: Yeah, well, stuff gets old after a while. [ with a mocking pout ] I’m tired.

Although it’s said like a joke, it feels like there’s some truth to the statement that Lucas won’t analyze for himself. Jack changes tracks, pointing out that for all the progress he’s made, it’s incredibly easy to back slide. And if he keeps disrespecting Miss Burgess or blowing off assignments, it’s going to come back to bite him.

Lucas questions if that’s the extent of his punishment, to which Jack simply laughs. He comes around the desk and leans against the front of it, tilting his head.

Jack: You remember stage-managing the musical last year, right? Intense job, lots of responsibility, you told me you’d rather down a bottle of drain cleaner than ever do it again? [ Off Lucas’s disdainful expression ] Well, do I have news for you, buddy.

Lucas frowns, looking more than displeased. Here we go again.

INT. AAA - SCRIPT LIBRARY - DAY

The door opens to a darkened, dusty closet, Harper grappling to find the light switch. As the cramped space is illuminated she and Farkle are framed in the doorway, showing him what his punishment will be. For the duration of the semester, he will be spending lunches and free periods assisting with technical jobs.

One of these involves cleaning out and organizing the script library, which is a mess of piles and piles of scripts that need to be alphabetized and sorted neatly. Better get to work.

Farkle saunters into the room as Harper leaves him to it, picking up the first play of hundreds. Death of a Salesman. He sighs and places it in a new pile, beginning the tedious job all alone.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Riley is heading out towards the main entrance as the bell rings, other students filing out. A couple of her classmates give her props on her performance or bid her goodbye, but no one stops to actually have a conversation. Riley keeps her smile on, though it’s thin.

She spots Lucas as he’s stepping out of the main office. The two of them lock eyes across the atrium, another weighted moment passing between them. So much left unsaid. So much they could say, if they could just talk about it.

But it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards. Lucas walks out the front doors in a hurry, not even looking back at her for a second glance.

Riley exhales, closing her eyes and trying to push past it. She stuffs her hands in her pockets, surprised as she remembers the note she hastily stuffed in there earlier in the week. She pulls it out and unfolds it, looking at the scribbled declaration of admiration.

“You’re better.”

Tentatively, she twists the note in her fingers. Then she’s crumpling it, making it as small as it can possibly be. Destroying it as quickly as everything else seems to have crumpled into nothing.

She drops it into the waste bin as she exits the building.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Isadora is at her locker, gathering her things. In the inside door, the same photo of her, Riley, and Lucas is hanging up that Riley has in her locker.

She looks at it, obviously reminiscent. She pulls out her phone, opening her thread with Riley and trying to think of something to say. Wondering if there’s anything to say at all. She certainly doesn’t know, like she told her earlier.

The contemplation is interrupted as Maya comes up to her, energized as usual. She shows off the new patches on her denim jacket.

Maya: Check it out. Already beginning the Izzy-fying of my wardrobe. You inspired me.

Yindra and Zay pass by them, asking if they’re all still planning on hitting up Chubbie’s. Maya asks if Isadora is coming, to which she tells them she’ll catch up with them in a second. She hesitates for a moment longer, glancing at that photo one last time.

Then she closes the door. The last image we see is the photo of the three them, sealed away in the closed, dark locker.

END OF EPISODE.

#s2 #episodes #well!#202

17 notes · View notes