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jingabitch · 4 years

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Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.1

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Word count: 10.5k

A/N: here it is!! I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think; I was really unsure about writing this, especially at the beginning. Edit: I will not be doing a taglist, so please don't ask. Thank you!

Series index

“Hyung –” Taehyung whined as he sulked on the couch of the dorm.

Yoongi sighed, looking over at his team member. “What is it, Taehyung-ie?”

“I’m bored,” Taehyung replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he slid down on the couch, his usually perky ears drooping.

The snow leopard hybrid just grunted, flicking one of his ears in irritation. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hyung, come play with me, please?”

Namjoon, who was lying on the adjacent couch, stifled a snicker. Taehyung had been more needy than usual in the past few weeks, and he was working Yoongi’s last nerve. The older man had inherited his animal counterpart’s solitary tendencies, and while he was, for the most part, happy to socialize and hang out with the rest of them, Taehyung had been cutting into his alone time a little too much lately with his neediness, and the grey-haired hybrid was Not Happy.

Jin, their resident spotted hyena hybrid, laughed, a sound very reminiscent of his animal counterpart’s trademark sound. “Yoongi, just play with him. He’s lonely.”

Yoongi scowled. “Why do I have to do it?! Isn’t this why you got a pet in the first place, to keep you company?”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “It is, but as you can clearly see,” he bit out, upset now, “Yeontan isn’t here.”

Hoseok, seeing the snow leopard hybrid taking in a deep breath to begin ranting, cut into the conversation to save the wolf hybrid from a scolding. “Hyung, you know how Tae is. He misses the company, is all.”

“Why don’t you just get another pet, then?” Yoongi asked.

“Because the same thing would happen, hyung,” Taehyung responded drolly, unable to hide his irritation at what he clearly thought was a ridiculous suggestion. “I don’t want to get attached to another pet, and then have to palm it off onto my parents again.”

Namjoon, ever the problem solver, lit up in that way that happened only when he had a eureka moment. “Get a human, then!”

The rest of them gawked at him. “A human?!” Jin asked skeptically.

“Yah, if he didn’t have time for a dog, how’s he going to care for a human baby? They’re even more high maintenance, and for way longer!” Yoongi snapped.

Namjoon made a rude noise. “Don’t get a baby, then! There’s lots of children and adolescents in shelters that need good homes. You can get one of those; they’re more self-sufficient.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s genius!”

Jungkook and Jimin, who had until now remained out of the conversation, immediately leapt up excitedly. “Yes, yes, can we adopt a human, pleaaaase,” Jimin pleaded. The black-footed cat hybrid, already small in stature and adorable because of his animal genes, opened his eyes wider and pouted up at the others.

Taehyung and Jungkook, seeing him, followed suit, and before long, the other members conceded, and they’d agreed to get a human pet. Taehyung, excited now that he was going to have a new little pack member to take care of and keep him company, immediately ran to get his laptop so he could research human shelters in Seoul.

Two hundred years ago, humans created hybrids in science labs. Splicing human genes with animals was supposed to create the perfect servant, companion and soldier – with the intelligence and capacity for emotional connection of humans and the superior physical capabilities of other animals, these new creations were supposed to make life better for humans.

What the scientists hadn’t realized, in their hubris, was that it was extraordinarily likely that the hybrids wouldn’t be content merely taking orders and serving the whims of humans, who were, after all, genetically inferior to their artificial perfection. A revolution and reordering of society occurred, and now humans were the pets, bred for the sole purpose of being the best possible companions for their hybrid owners.

You understood this history well enough, thanks to the kindly old hybrid who adopted you as a baby to soothe her empty nest syndrome after her grown-up children moved out and began their own lives, and her husband sadly passed away. She’d given you far more than she was obliged to as an owner, even ensuring that you had a basic education.

It had been a couple of years since she’d unfortunately passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack, landing you in a shelter when none of her family members wanted to take you in. Now that you were ten, you understood that the likelihood of you staying in the shelter for the rest of your childhood grew exponentially each day, as most families wanted babies or toddlers that would be more attached to their adopted families.

Plus, everyone loves babies.

You sighed as you pushed the covers off yourself. You’d finally managed to get a coveted bottom bunk bed after one of the girls in your room was adopted out, and you felt like you should be happier about it.

If only it wasn’t so sad to be happy about getting a bottom bunk in a shelter, after years of waiting your turn. You hoped against all hope that you wouldn’t spend much time in this bunk, that you’d be going home with another family soon, and you promised yourself there and then that if you ever got adopted, you’d do whatever it took to make your new family happy for saving you from this drudgery.

As you made your way to the cafeteria for breakfast, you noticed that there seemed to be a lot more… buzzing than usual. You shrugged it off – you’d been here long enough to know that it just meant a high-profile visit was scheduled for the day, and all of the children were told to dress up and be on their best behavior.

Picking up a tray and lining up for your breakfast, you held in a sigh. Most people are looking for babies and toddlers, and it’s rare that anyone wants to adopt at a shelter. Even when they do, they go for younger children, who are still cute and cuddly.

Well, not that you weren’t cuddly. It was literally in your genetic makeup to crave physical affection because hybrids like to snuggle with their pets, but you’d lost that cute doe-eyed helplessness that hybrid clients like in their pets. With a sigh, you took your tray and sat in a corner to eat, unwilling to listen to the excited chatter of the younger children. You weren’t that hopeful anymore, and it hurt too much after the first few times to get all excited and put in effort, only to not be chosen at the end of the day.

Finishing your breakfast, the same porridge with kimchi and laver that you have every morning, you went back to your room to wait. It’s standard procedure – every child has to remain by their bed in their room when the prospective client arrives and takes a tour to find the child they want to bring home.

With a sigh, you sat on your bed, propping the pillow up against the metal frame of your bunk bed, to continue reading the book you’d begged off from one of the caretakers. Most of the human children couldn’t read, because it wasn’t mandatory to teach them and many of them were rescued off the streets, but the grandmother who owned you before had taught you the basics.

You were still engrossed in the story – a classic from hundreds of years ago about a boy who found out he was a wizard and went to a school called Hogwarts – when Taehyung arrives, flanked by Namjoon on one side and Jimin on the other. The leader had accompanied Taehyung to restrain him and keep him from getting every child in the shelter, and Jimin had just wanted to see cute human children and give his two cents’ worth on the human they eventually adopted.

Because, as he said, he was Taehyung’s best friend so a pet Taehyung adopted would naturally be his business. The others didn’t quite buy it, but Taehyung seemed okay with him tagging along, so he cleared his schedule and came.

The matronly caretaker at the shelter, a middle-aged dog hybrid, came out to greet them excitedly when they arrived, gushing about all the cute children they had in the shelter, and how she hoped they would find their perfect match today.

They nodded and listened politely as she ushered them into her office, where she went over the ground rules for today. No pictures, no yelling, disturbing the children, et cetera. If there was a child they were interested in, they had to ask for permission before they were allowed to approach the child, and at all times children’s safety was paramount – if they indicated that they were uncomfortable, they could be removed from the situation without any repercussions. It was all aimed at ensuring that the humans were prioritized and felt safe in their home, and this was why Taehyung had chosen to support this shelter.

Namjoon, ever the responsible one, and Taehyung, who was dedicated to becoming a good pet owner, listened carefully as the hybrid caretaker explained what the challenges were in taking care of a human child, especially one that had lived in the shelter. Older children would be harder to train, she said, less malleable, and depending on what their circumstances had been before coming to live in the shelter, may have trauma or other psychological scars.

Jimin impatiently bounced around, aware that this was important stuff, but just excited to see some cute children and hopefully take one home today. When they finally stood up to leave the office and go to the dorm rooms where the children were waiting, Jimin could hardly keep the wide grin splitting his face under control, and Taehyung was similarly excited, the muscles under his shirt periodically tensing up as he resisted the urge to bounce along behind the caretaker. She was hardly likely to be impressed with him if he couldn’t demonstrate that he was a mature adult able to take care of a human child.

Because Taehyung had made it clear that he wanted an older, more self-sufficient human pet, the caretaker skipped the first two rooms, where the young children were, and the nursery, heading straight to your room. You were still reading your book, and she tutted as she saw you sitting there.

“Y/N, sweetie, would you like to come say hello to these nice hybrids?” she asked patiently, and you looked up from your story, surprised to see that there were indeed three men clustered behind her. Most hybrids decided on the child they wanted to bring home after seeing the younger children, so it was uncommon for you to see visitors.

You were tempted to reject the offer, but remembered your earlier promise to yourself, and smiled graciously, putting your bookmark back in and leaving your book on the bed. “Yes, ma’am,” you said sweetly, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off your skirt. “Good morning, sirs. My name is Y/N. I’m ten years old, and I’m very pleased to meet you,” you recited dutifully, remembering the spiel they taught all the children to say to visitors.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N-ah,” the tall wolf hybrid said, kneeling down so he could look you in the eye. His ears twitched slightly as he looked up at you slightly, and you smiled back. He had such a friendly demeanor that you couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him immediately. “My name is Taehyung, and these are my friends Jimin and Namjoon,” he said, pointing at the other two hybrids. You weren’t certain what kind they were, although you deduced that Namjoon was some kind of canine hybrid and Jimin, based on the cute rounded ears on top of his head, was a large cat.

“It’s a pleasure you meet you all,” you said politely, looking up at them. Your speech was crisp, delicate and refined from years of being the prized companion of a wealthy old lady.

“Likewise,” Namjoon said with a nod, and Jimin said nothing, but smiled so widely that his eyes all but disappeared. You smiled back, liking them already, and hoping that they would choose you to go home with them.

“What are you reading, Y/N-ah?” Taehyung asked, and you took his hand excitedly, bringing him to the bed where you’d left your book. He trailed after you, looking back at the other two members with a wide grin. It was so cute, how you lit up when he expressed interest in what you were reading, and how at ease you seemed to be, even initiating contact with him. You didn’t seem aware of who they were, which he supposed was to be expected, since he didn’t think humans really kept up with pop culture, and it wasn’t like you were walking around the streets of Seoul where BTS music was playing all over and their photos were plastered on every available surface in the city.

Sitting down next to you, he listened, his chin in his hand, as you chattered away excitedly about the book. Namjoon and Jimin came to squat on either side of you, and you basked in the undivided attention that you hadn’t had since your previous owner passed away.

“Who taught you how to read, Y/N-ah?” Namjoon asked when you wound down, his ears sticking out of the black hair on his head flicking slightly.

“My previous owner,” you replied.

“She seems nice,” Jimin said carefully, and young as you were, you picked up the unspoken question.

“She was,” was all you said, a little quietly and sadly. You missed her, the woman who’d asked you to call her ‘mom’ and really had acted like a mother to you.

At least, you think so – you were bred by a breeder to be a pet, and you didn’t remember your own mother, having been too young when you were separated from her.

After talking for a little while more, they excused themselves and you smiled as graciously as you knew how, returning to your book as they left the room to go back to the office to discuss things further.

“Hyung, she’s so precious,” Taehyung fairly sang, spinning around in circles with his arms spread out wide.

Namjoon was more reserved, but he agreed internally. She wasn’t rambunctious in the way that Yeontan was, but adorable all the same, in the way she’d lit up while talking about her book and how easily she’d accepted their touch, clearly happy to have the physical affection.

Jimin, way more exuberant than Namjoon, grabbed Taehyung’s hands and bounced around with him. “We’re getting a human!” he cried out in excitement as they jumped like children up and down.

The wild dog hybrid just shook his head at his two younger bandmates, before leading the way into the caretaker’s office to settle the adoption paperwork.

You returned home with them that day, to your surprise and pleasure. You hadn’t allowed yourself to hope until the caretaker came back to let you know to pack your meagre possessions, and sends you off with them. Taehyung gives you a hug when you walk out of the building with your bag to join them, and straps you safely into his car before they take off, back to his apartment.

As you were travelling there, they chattered away, filling you in on what their home will be like. You found out that they were part of a boyband that live together, and you would be moving in with all seven of them. Apart from the three hybrids in the car with you – Taehyung, who bought you, the wolf hybrid; Namjoon, the serious-looking African wild dog; and Jimin, the adorable-looking black footed cat who was sitting in the back with you – there were another four. They were all predator hybrids, something Taehyung noted with some pride, beaming at your reflection in the rearview mirror.

You smiled back uncertainly at him, apprehensive about how different the new arrangement was from your previous one but still certain that no matter what, it would still be better than living at the shelter. It hadn’t been awful – it wasn’t like you’d been abused or anything while you were there – but with how stretched thin the resources at the shelter were, it had been impossible for you to get the care and attention that you required to be emotionally and mentally healthy after all this time.

Carrying yourself as stiffly as you could, in order to leave the best first impression possible, you hugged your bag tightly to your chest and stood ramrod straight in the elevator, resisting the urge to look around curiously. Your previous owner had been wealthy, but she hadn’t been this wealthy, and you’d never been in a lift that was so opulent before.

Taehyung tugged the bag out of your arms insistently, and you relinquished it after a brief struggle for control over it. You didn’t want to put him out, feeling that he’s already done enough, adopting you and giving you what looked like it would be an amazing home, but he was stronger than you and you were also concerned that he would think you were too stubborn or headstrong if you continued fighting him, so you let it go.

When they ushered you into your new home, though, your jaw dropped and you couldn’t hold back your reaction that time. The apartment was so nice and spacious, worlds away from the shared room you’d lived in at the shelter. Taehyung laughed at your expression and whisked you off to his bedroom, which was now a shared bedroom for the two of you, showing you where everything you would need was. After getting you settled in, he led you back out by the hand to the living room, where the other boys were gathered, eagerly waiting to meet you.

And that’s how you became part of the BTS family.

Your new home was very different from the one you had spent your early childhood in. Living with seven young and energetic hybrid men meant you suddenly had companions and playmates to indulge your more rambunctious impulses, whereas before you’d always had to be calm and docile, since there was no way your previous owner would have been able to keep up with a screaming and running child on the playground. It wasn’t like it had been bad – you were naturally a quieter child, but all children need space to run and play, to expend their excess energy, and as hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to offer you that.

On the other hand, you played so much with your new family that you were completely exhausted every night, and Taehyung had to prod you to get ready for bed properly, instead of just collapsing in whatever you were wearing. He didn’t mind, though, pleased that you were having so much fun every day. Besides, having you around to dote on made all of them happy, especially Taehyung, who missed his young cousins and was still slightly bitter about how much of his siblings’ and cousins’ childhoods he hadn’t been around for, and later, his nieces and nephews.

And so you spent your adolescence in their company, making a home for yourself. It wasn’t just BTS that seemed to have adopted you – Big Hit as a whole did. The stylist noonas were utterly thrilled to finally have a little girl around on the regular, and treated you alternately like a little sister and a doll, dressing you up in all the cute girlish trends they privately sighed over but couldn’t experiment with.

Another benefit of having a human as a pet was that it was far easier to transport a person – humans were allowed on planes and buses, so you could travel with the boys. Your calming presence helped soothe frayed nerves and mediated fights, and ARMY loved watching the tender interactions between the boys, who were all predator hybrids, and the wide-eyed human child, claiming that it showed how nurturing the boys were despite their natural inclination, and how they would be good fathers someday. You even had your own little fanclub, like Yeontan had before you.

Speaking of Yeontan – the little dog had gone to live with Taehyung’s parents, so you didn’t get to see each other that often, but when you did, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Taehyung had to keep an eye on you at mealtimes to make sure most of the food on your plate wasn’t finding its way down to Yeontan, who lay casually across your feet at the dining table, while the dog was so excited to see you that he basically ignored Taehyung whenever the both of you arrived together.

The vlive of you and Yeontan taking a nap on the couch after Chuseok dinner with his family, curled up together as you whined about your tummy hurting while Taehyung, behind the camera, laughed as he teased you about being such a glutton but then went to rub your aching belly, became the most watched vlive ever, spawning a million GIFs.

It also became common for you to be somewhere in the background of Namjoon’s vlives, reading a book on his couch, while he chatted with fans. After many requests for you to appear on Eat Jin, you did eventually do an episode with him, although he spent the whole time comparing the food to meals he’d cooked for you in the past.

One might think that growing up the lone female around seven men might be awkward at times, especially with you going through adolescence and getting your period and all that, but they made it normal. Hybrids were far more open about normal bodily functions than human societies had been, and it would have been stranger for them to get squeamish about their pet’s bodily functions. There was no hiding from them when you got your period or anything like that, but they were so nonchalant about it that you were too, even warning you beforehand when you were going to start because they could smell the changes in your scent.

It was all fine – at least, until the boys went to the military.

All of them enlisted together when you were sixteen, and you went to live with Taehyung’s parents while they were serving. Living in Geochang was a change of pace from Seoul, but it was nice nevertheless. You helped out at his parents’ farm, got to play a lot more with Yeontan and the other animals running around, and had a lot more freedom since his parents were too busy to micromanage you.

During this time, you really grew into your own – enrolling in an online GED course, using the Internet and the enormous resources at your disposal to figure your personal style out, even finding human friends and a boyfriend. Who would have thought that Geochang had such a thriving human community?

Needless to say, by the time the two years had passed and you went back to live with Taehyung, you were a vastly different person, in both temperament and appearance, than you’d been the day he dropped you off.

Still, you’d missed being in Seoul with him, and you were excited to go with his parents to pick him up from the military base. You’d never been to visit him when his family members went, because they’d needed someone to stay home and tend to the crops and take care of the animals, and ever eager to please, you’d volunteered to do it even though you really wanted to see Taehyung too.

This time, though, you had to go, because everyone was going to Seoul to spend the night, and then you would stay with Taehyung. Although you hadn’t seen each other in two years, you’d kept in contact via text messages and video calls whenever he was free, and you knew that he’d decided to move into an apartment in Seoul without the other boys. It was about time – Seokjin was pushing thirty and planning to propose to his longtime girlfriend, and it was a little weird for seven men in their thirties to be living together anyway.

So you packed your things and prepared to move out of Geochang and back to Seoul. It wasn’t difficult – with technology it was easy for you to keep in contact with your friends in Geochang, and you’d broken up with your boyfriend a couple months ago on amicable terms. The most difficult thing for you had been saying goodbye to Tannie, who was getting on in years now and had relied on you more and more each day.

But move out you did, and you bounced in your seat all the way to the military base where Taehyung had been living for the past two years. When you first saw him walk out of the compound, still in his uniform, your excitement got the better of you and you flew towards him, perhaps uncharacteristically for you given how taken aback his parents were, but you didn’t care.

“Taehyung-oppa!” you screamed as you ran. To his credit, he didn’t waste any time processing the missile currently hurtling towards him, and just opened his arms for you to leap into.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed as he hugged you close. He’d missed you too, his cute little human, and after so long away from him, you didn’t smell anything like him anymore, something he was determined to change as he started rubbing his cheek on the top of your head. Used to it after living with him for so many years, you just stood still and let him do it.

Fansite photographers and more zealous fans who’d come to see him cooed and sighed at the cute picture you two made. You were still tucked under his arm, clinging to his shirt, as he greeted the people who were gathered, thanking them for coming all this way, and thanking his commanding officers and platoon mates for being there for him for the past few years.

Then it was over, and he was in the van with his family for a more private reunion. You were still clinging to him, not that he minded as he stroked your hair softly as he chatted with his family. He’d seen them when they’d come to visit, or during his breaks – it was just you that hadn’t had the chance to see him since he’d gone away.

During the drive back to Seoul, you tucked your face into his neck and took a nap, tired from all the excitement. While you were asleep, Taehyung asked his mother how you’d been. “Did she give you a lot of trouble?” he asked.

She chuckled. “No, she was an absolute angel. So good with the children and the animals, always eager to help out.”

He smiled. “Yeah? That tracks. The lady at the shelter told me she has an amazing pedigree.”

“It was a real joy having her, Taehyung-ah. You’re lucky to have such a sweet human in your life.”

“I am. I hope she had a good time in Geochang, too.”

Taehyung’s mother laughed at that. “Oh, did she ever!”

His curiosity piqued, his ears perked. “Sounds like you have some good stories to share.”

“The girl had the time of her life these past two years,” his mother snickered. “She had a lot more freedom in Geochang than in Seoul because it’s smaller and safer, so we let her go out on her own a lot more, and she’s really sociable. She even found a boyfriend.”

He raised a brow. “She did? Sounds like she had lots of fun in Geochang, then.”

He wanted to find out more about what you’d been up to, but since they were arriving in Seoul and would be at the restaurant for dinner, he couldn’t, instead waking you up since you always took a little while to be functional.

You untangled yourself from him sleepily and almost fell out of the car as you tried to get out, and it was only his father’s superior hybrid reflexes that saved you from eating asphalt as he caught you and put you back on your feet. Murmuring your thanks, you waited for Taehyung to climb out of the van and lead you into the restaurant by the hand.

Tonight, you were dining at a Korean barbeque restaurant, which was always a winner for the hybrid wolf family. Usually they just ate meat, not even bothering with lettuce wraps, but they were still nice enough to order some vegetables and king oyster mushrooms for you. You were in charge of grilling, of course, not that you minded, and hearing the praise from everyone else at the table made you glow a little every time.

Taehyung was the center of attention that evening, of course, as he regaled his family with tales of his time in the military. He was the first member of BTS to be discharged, although since they’d all enlisted at around the same time, the others were due to be discharged in the coming few months, so unfortunately there weren’t funny stories of his bandmates coming to visit him, but Bang PD had, and so had some stylist noonas.

There were also stories about silly punishments and shenanigans, water parades, being made to hold the wall and shout, “Help, help! The wall is falling,” because he’d been caught leaning against it once, that made everyone crack up and you almost drop the tongs right on the grill.

Eventually, though, he started asking about how everyone had been, which turned, perhaps inevitably, into everyone ganging up on you and trying to tell the most embarrassing story they could think of. You sighed and whined as one by one, they all took turns rehashing your various mishaps to Taehyung – you trying to climb a tree and getting stuck like a cat, your various fashion disasters as you tried to ‘find yourself’ – complete with pictures, of course, and worst of all, your theatrics when your GED certificate came in the mail.

Well, you were really proud of that last one, but did they really have to describe your joyful outburst as helpless histrionics?

Still, though, the way Taehyung squeezed your hand as he told you how proud he was of you made everything better.

Soon enough, dinner was over and all of you piled back into the van to go to Taehyung’s new apartment. It had already been set up by the multitude of assistants that BigHit had, with some input from his parents, so it was basically already liveable. With so many people helping, it wasn’t long before all your things were moved into the apartment too, and then the two of you were left alone, for the first time in two years.

Since you had so much spare room in the apartment, you had your own bedroom, and it was beautifully decorated just how you’d pictured it, with a very pretty queen-sized bed in one corner with a white cushioned headboard and pink-and-grey patterned sheets, a reading nook in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with an overstuffed chair and foot rest, a lamp, and a large bookshelf with a ladder occupying the adjacent wall, and a little coffee table with a scented candle already on it next to the chair. Fluffy rugs were strewn across the room, and a wooden dressing table sat on the opposite side of the room. It was beautiful and comfortable, everything you’d dreamed of, but when you got ready for bed, you found yourself missing Taehyung.

Which led to you in your pajamas, all scrubbed down and ready for bed, knocking plaintively on Taehyung’s bedroom door. He seemed to know that you would be there even before opening the door, which he probably had, with his enhanced senses (and the fact that there was no one else in the apartment).

When he opened the door for you, clad in just his pajama pants, all you had to do was pout up at him and he was standing aside to let you in. Generally, he indulged your every whim, because according to his life philosophy, why have pets if you weren’t going to spoil them rotten? Making a beeline for his bed, you made yourself comfortable by burrowing under his sheets and fluffing up one of his pillows.

Shaking his head at you, Taehyung followed you back to the bed, getting into the other side with an indulgent huff. “You know, I paid a lot of money for your bedroom,” he said drolly. Ignoring his remark, you cuddled close to him and shut your eyes stubbornly, and he capitulated with a sigh, stroking your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Somehow, you smelled different than he remembered. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but it was just… different. And he didn’t quite know what to do about it.

For some reason he’d been reluctant to ask his parents, even though they’d been the ones living with you for the past two years, if they’d sensed anything different about you. He’d rationalized it to himself at the point – since they’d been with you every day it was likely that they wouldn’t notice anything different if your scent had changed gradually, and if it had been sudden and enough to cause worry, they would already have let him know about it.

Still, his mind wouldn’t stop racing with the possibilities as he leaned in closer to take a good whiff. He could still smell the base notes of your scent, which had always been somewhat citrusy, but now it was slightly… earthier, with a musky, deeper aroma threaded through it. Was it vanilla? Perhaps cinnamon?

Whatever it was, it was nice, and he shut his eyes to allow himself to drift off after deciding to do research on humans’ scent changes tomorrow. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about – any illness would definitely have a sharper, less pleasant scent – but he didn’t know why your scent would suddenly change again. It had changed gradually once before, as you went through puberty, but based on what he’d read about humans, it shouldn’t change again for many years yet.

No harm finding out more about what could be causing it, he thought as he slipped after you into slumber. Maybe he would take you to a doctor, too, if it became necessary.

Morning dawned, and Taehyung woke up leisurely for the first time in too long, slowly blinking his eyes against the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, he became aware that he was the most comfortable he’d ever been, probably in his life, and he nuzzled closer behind your ear.

Wait a minute. A second later, he drew back. He didn’t remember going to sleep with a lover, and he definitely hadn’t had a girlfriend since his last one broke up with him while he was in the army. So who was he currently wrapped around…?

When it dawned on him, he recoiled in horror, and almost crab scuttled away from you. Thankfully, you were still asleep and hadn’t noticed his morning boner pressed against you, because it was beyond inappropriate for him to feel that way about you, his pet.

Unfortunately, his abrupt movements pulled on the duvet that you were sharing, and jostled you awake. He froze, wide-eyed, as you stirred. “Taehyung-oppa?” you said, voice raspy with sleep.

“Shh, I’m just going to pee,” he lied. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still early.”

You hummed wordlessly as you burrowed back into the covers, and despite his own inner turmoil, he smiled at you as he straightened the duvet over you before he left the bedroom.

He darted into the bathroom, where he sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. God, what the hell was wrong with him? You weren’t a hybrid, and he didn’t understand how this could have happened. In that moment before he’d woken up fully and realized what was happening, his instinct had been to treat you like a… lover. He shuddered at the thought.

Okay, he thought, getting up. He was going to take a shower, rub one out, and then pretend like everything was fine. This was an aberration, just a weird fluke. You were warm and in his bed, and it had been a really long time since he had any action, since military service tended to inhibit such activities.

He just needed to get laid, and get used to your new scent, and then everything would be fine. No one would need to know about this embarrassing little slip-up.

With renewed determination, he started stripping off his clothes to get into the shower. All soaped up, he started sliding a hand down his body to grasp his erection firmly, which had never really gone away. Biting his lip, he started stroking it slowly, running his thumb over the head on the upstroke. His mind, however, remained unfocused, flitting between various memories and porn he’d watched, never able to focus on anything long enough to immerse himself.

That is, until his enhanced wolf hearing picked up the rustling sounds in the bedroom. He could hear, even over the sound of the shower, so clearly what you were doing that his mind had no problem filling in the blanks. The rustle of the sheets meant you were pushing the covers back; the soft thud on the ground meant you’d sat up and put your feet down. Then you stretched, and he definitely had no problem imagining it – or an overly erotic version of what actually transpired. Your soft moan of satisfaction as you cracked your spine sent a shiver running through him.

After that, it was basically a race to the finish line, as he fisted himself as hard as he could, leaning forward to brace his free hand against the wall in front of him. Usually it took a little longer, and he would play with his balls more, but it wasn’t going to be necessary this time, he could feel it. Remembering how good you’d smelled this morning was enough to push him over the edge, and he muffled his groan in his shoulder as he came all over the wall of his shower, the hand on the wall curling into a fist.

“Fuck,” he panted as he washed the cum off himself and the wall. Needless to say, he didn’t feel any cleaner after that shower.

When he came out of the shower, you were already getting breakfast ready. Another perk of having a team of assistants dedicated to making your life easier – the fridge came fully stocked. You’d washed up and pulled a sweatshirt on over the cami and pajama pants, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw that it was a BTS merchandise from several years ago.

“Good morning,” you chirped, flipping the bacon. “I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, but I remember how much you love bacon, so I figured this would be safe.”

He leaned his elbows on the island and watched you warily from a distance. “Are you sure you should be cooking?”

“I got better,” you shot back defensively. “You shouldn’t have let me take cooking lessons from Namjoon-oppa in the first place.”

“No, I really shouldn’t have,” he agreed absently. You really had improved in your cooking, he thought, watching how easily you moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t long before a giant helping of bacon was sitting in front of him, with a more modest, human-sized portion on your plate, and some toast.

“You really should have let me make you breakfast,” he sighed, even as he started to tuck in. “I miss spoiling you.”

You shot him a cheeky grin. “Not to worry, you spoiled me plenty while you were in the military,” you sassed him.

He huffed out a laugh. “I know, I saw the credit card statements.”

Giggling, you eat another bite of your breakfast and smile at him with your cheeks stuffed, and his heart clenches with fondness. How could someone so plainly adorable drive him so crazy this morning? It must have been a fluke; his instincts misfiring. He just needed to get laid, and then everything would be fine.

Update: everything was not fine.

Things got progressively worse over the next couple of weeks, until Taehyung was honestly filled with dread every night when you came into his room and slid under the sheets on the side of the bed you’d claimed as yours.

It was getting to the point that all you had to do was sidle up to him for some cuddles and he would start getting sidetracked from having your scent invading his personal space. And yet it wasn’t like he could ask you to dial it back – it was in your nature to be physically affectionate and needy; it was literally what you’d been bred for. What could he possibly say, anyway? “Sorry, but can you stop touching me, it turns me on”? You’d be horrified, and rightly so. You trusted him, he could see it every time you smiled up at him like the sun, looked at him with complete adoration in your eyes, came to sit on his lap for cuddles. His reaction was a complete betrayal of that trust.

There was definitely something wrong with him. It was sick for a hybrid to be thinking about his human pet in this way. Maybe he should be the one to see a doctor, but he’d probably be arrested.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if it guaranteed your safety from him.

Amidst all the angst and worrying about whether he was a danger to his own pet human, there were some bright moments. All of his brothers were discharged from the military, and after Jungkook, the last to be discharged, was released, they’d all gone for a massive reunion/celebration. You’d wanted to join, but he’d said no, knowing that there would definitely be plenty of alcohol that night, which meant that firstly, he wouldn’t be in any position to look after you and/or resist your charms, and secondly, your underage self was definitely not going to see how depraved your precious oppas were going to get.

The night started off well enough, with a nice dinner at an exclusive new restaurant in Seoul. The wine flowed freely, and by the time they were done, everyone was more than a little tipsy. They then moved to a club – again, exclusive and new – where they were automatically ushered to the mezzanine. A bottle of whisky was brought to their table, but soon enough, several of them had left to hit the dance floor – Jungkook, that brat, was of course looking for someone to spend the night with, and Hoseok and Jimin just wanted to tear up the dance floor.

“How have you been spending your time off?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung had been a little off all night, quieter than usual and when he thought no one was watching, he had a little frown perpetually affixed to his face.

Taehyung forced a nonchalant shrug – or at least, what he hoped passed for nonchalance. “Just hanging around,” he said vaguely, hoping to fend off any more probing into his life. “What about you?”

Namjoon looked amused. “Tae, I was discharged three days ago. I spent it sleeping and fixing up my apartment.”

“Right, right,” he said, staring studiously into his glass of whisky as if the amber-coloured liquid could tell him the secrets of life.

“How’s Y/N?” Yoongi piped up. Of course, he would be the one to bring you up first. For all his bitching and moaning when Taehyung adopted you, he quickly grew the most attached, and the feeling was mutual. He was your very favourite oppa after Taehyung, and sometimes – like when Taehyung has no choice but to discipline you – he was pretty sure Yoongi was your favourite.

“She’s fine,” Taehyung said, aiming for the innocent enthusiasm he used to have when talking about you, but from the way Namjoon’s eyebrow went up, he knew he’d failed.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asked slowly.

Taehyung gulped. The jig was up. Curse his inability to hide his feelings. Well, no matter. If pretending like everything was okay at home wasn’t going to work, there was always good old avoidance.

“Yes, everything’s fine!” he exclaimed a little manically, knocking back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I’m going to hit the dance floor,” he said, making his escape quickly.

The others, a little surprised, didn’t react, letting him leave, although they exchanged suspicious glances. Something was up with Taehyung; he’d made that obvious enough.

Stepping onto the dance floor, he saw Jungkook in one corner getting hot and heavy against a wall with his chosen companion for the night, and he sighed enviously. He wished he could still do that. It wasn’t that they were afraid someone would go to the press – this club really was exclusive, and only celebrities and the ultra-wealthy (read: chaebol relatives) could even enter the club, so discretion would be guaranteed by both parties.

Instead, it seemed that as his attraction for you grew, his ability to find other, more suitable hybrid women attractive… diminished. Which was another pretty significant part of the problem that he didn’t even know how to address. He’d tried hooking up with hybrids over the past couple of weeks, but none of them ever smelled right. There was always something that felt a little bit off that prevented him from taking things further with them, no matter how much he might want to.

He was going crazy, he was sure of it. How could his sexual attraction be focused completely on one human woman? There was no way that this was okay.

He just had to hide it from others. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it yet, and it wasn’t like he didn’t trust his brothers, but this was a little different, and as much as he wouldn’t blame them, he couldn’t imagine the judging or pitying looks they would direct at him if he told them what was going on with his life.

No, better to keep it to himself for the time being.

His resolve seemed, unfortunately, alcohol-soluble. When the night ended, Taehyung returned to his apartment, saw that his bed was empty and immediately turned around to go to your room, where you’d settled in for the night since you weren’t sure what time he would come back, if he came back at all – hey, you weren’t one to judge. Spotting the human-shaped lump under the covers of your bed in the darkness, he stumbled over to the bed and lifted the covers to slide in.

It was then that Taehyung discovered that those cute camis and pajama pants that shouldn’t drive him crazy but did were you dressing more modestly than usual for bed, out of consideration for him. Because tonight, you weren’t wearing pants.

His brain seemed to short-circuit as he stared at your panty-clad ass, but he must have lifted the covers for too long because the cold started to make you stir as you turned over, patting the area around you looking for the blanket. Not finding anything to grab on to, your eyes opened slowly, and you squinted up at Taehyung.

“Oppa?” you croaked. “You’re back.” Clearing your throat, you reached for your phone on the bedside table. “What time is it?”

He groaned as he watched the way your body stretched out as you turned away from him. “You smell so good,” he whined, flopping down on the other side of the bed, and squirming close to you.

You allowed him to press himself against you, knowing that he was a needy drunk. This wasn’t exactly new for you – Taehyung didn’t get drunk as often as his other members did, but he still did occasionally, and you’d been with him for so many years now that you had a routine by now.

“Oppa… are you still dressed?” you whined as your bare skin came into contact with his jeans. You hissed in displeasure as the cold metal on his belt buckle pressed against your thigh.

“…No,” he said unconvincingly after a moment.

You squirmed out of his grasp, and he let out a forlorn whine that reminded you of his animal half. “Come on, you should get changed at least, you won’t sleep well in your clothes. I’ll go get your pajamas, okay?”

“Nooo,” he made grabby hands at you. “Don’t leave.” He pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his face into your throat. “You smell so good,” he slurred, rubbing his face against you.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation, resisting the urge to push him away. “At least take your pants off, okay?” you negotiated. “I have some water here, you should have some before you go to sleep…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the bottle you always kept on your bedside table, and his head fell to the pillow with a soft thump as you pulled away. His eyesight was far better than yours, and he took the opportunity to stare at you while you weren’t able to notice it.

While he drank, you wriggled yourself back into the bed, blinking sleepily in the dark as you listened to the rhythmic sound of him gulping down the water. When he’d had enough, he started to lay down, and you quickly intervened. “No, you can’t sleep in your clothes!”

He laughed in response. “You’re very eager to take my pants off, love,” he teased.

Your whole body flushed with heat and you drew back, sulking. “Fine, sleep in your clothes, then. Just don’t complain in the morning,” you snapped, turning over to go to sleep.

Instead of doing the same, Taehyung scooched closer and threw an arm around you. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he purred. “I was just teasing. I’ll take off whatever you want me to,” he promised.

Hearing him speak to you in that tone, though, had you all kinds of worked up. It wasn’t unusual for him to call you baby – he’d always used that pet name on you, and Yeontan and all his other pets as well. It was just the way he’d said it… it reminded you of the way your ex back in Geochang used to talk to you when he was horny. And you found, to your shame, that you’d reacted to it with a small shiver.

That couldn’t be right, though. Humans and hybrids weren’t compatible in that way. You’d just been reminded of Jong-in in that moment – even though you’d broken up, it had been amicable, and you’d always enjoyed physical intimacy with him; it was a natural reaction.

While you were busy rationalizing it to yourself, though, the scent of your arousal hit Taehyung and he pressed himself closer with a groan. “Why do you smell so amazing, Y/N-ie?” he asked, pushing his nose insistently into the crook behind your ear. Unfortunately, his belt buckle pressed into the strip of skin on your lower back exposed by the way your camisole rode up.

“Agh,” you cried out in displeasure, squirming away from him. “It’s cold!”

“What? What’s cold, baby?”

“Your belt,” you heaved out, and his hands immediately went to it.

“Okay, it’s going,” Taehyung responded placatingly, undoing it and throwing it onto the ground beside the bed. Now that he’d gotten started, his pants were quick to follow, being scrunched into the corner of the bed under the covers where he’d kicked them, and his button-down shirt. Finally, clad in just his boxers and undershirt, he relaxed into the mattress, and you cuddled close, satisfied now.

“Good night, oppa,” you murmured as you slotted yourself into your usual spot in his side, your eyes drifting shut as you clutched his shirt in your fist.

He mumbled something indistinct in response, but you could feel his hand resting on your back, and you went to sleep peacefully.

(line break)

Taehyung woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own, half-dressed, and was confused for a moment, wracking his brain for memories of last night. Had he finally managed to get some?

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he propped himself up on his elbow and peered around, realizing that it was your room. So he hadn’t broken his dry spell, then. Damn.

Pushing the covers away, he meandered out of your bedroom to the kitchen, where you were already working on some hangover breakfast for him. “Good morning,” you chirped, turning away from the stove to point at the glass of water and hybrid painkillers you’d laid out for him. “In case you feel bad,” you explained.

He sat down and downed the water, ignoring the painkillers – he didn’t feel that bad – as he took you in. You’d put some pants on, and a cardigan over the camisole you’d worn to bed, and tied your hair back in a messy ponytail. As a hybrid, he naturally ran warmer than you, so during winters you made sure to pile the layers on to remain warm.

This line of thinking triggered a memory of you squealing in protest at the cold metal of his belt buckle touching your skin last night, and he paled as he remembered how inappropriately he’d acted with you. He watched you carefully, but you seemed the same as always, and he wasn’t sure if he should just pretend it never happened or apologize for it.

When you deemed the yukgaejang ready and took it off the stove to serve together with two bowls of freshly cooked rice, his guilt at how boorishly he’d treated you last night overwhelmed him and he blurted, “About last night – ”

You looked up from the drawer where you were picking the utensils out. “Yeah?”

“Um… about what I said…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh, you mean the scent thing? Don’t worry, I get it,” you laughed it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s because of the pack bond, right?”

“The what?” Completely confused, he just stared at you as you poured some soup into your rice.

“The pack bond? I read about it, that some hybrids can form pack bonds with the people around them. Like you did with the other members, or your pets, I guess,” you said, shrugging.

Instead of responding immediately, Taehyung chose to shovel a huge mouthful of stew and rice into his mouth to give him more time to think about how to respond. You’d given him the perfect cop-out for any overly affectionate behavior he might display. He was sure you didn’t know enough about hybrid pack behaviours to actually call him out on his lies.

“Y- yeah, that’s it,” he said, the visible relief on his face making you smile at him cheerily, your triumph at guessing correctly written all over your face.

As you both went back to eating, you felt something that had tensed up inside you last night unclench. It was just the pack bond. You could stop thinking about it, and you wouldn’t misinterpret anything anymore.

Returning to the studio to work on their comeback was a relief for Taehyung. For one thing, it meant that he would be spending most of his time away from you and your maddening scent. For another, he’d worried (perhaps needlessly, given the outpouring of support and congratulations on their social media when they were each discharged) that they wouldn’t be relevant anymore and he would be out of a job.

He’d also really missed his brothers, and was excited to work with them again.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated was that they’d missed you just as much as him, and you felt the same way. Every evening when he came home you were there, waiting for fun stories about the other members, and they pestered him incessantly for updates about you or, better yet, pictures or videos, or best of all, bringing you to the studio.

Since you basically begged for the same thing, he’d pretty much had no choice.

You chattered on excitedly from the front seat of his car as he drove to the studio. It was unbearably early, but that didn’t seem to deter you. Most mornings you were the one who woke him up anyway, since you were by far the most patient out of the members and producers. Even without you being there most days, the members knew that any time Taehyung showed up for practice on time and awake it was because of your efforts.

You fairly skipped from the carpark all the way to the studio where the boys were supposed to be working today, dragging Taehyung along in your wake. You knew the building like the back of your hand by now, having spent much of the time you’d been with Taehyung here. Even the boys from TXT knew you, and often kept snacks and things in their studios for you when you dropped by.

Reaching the corridor where the studio was located, you ran down it and burst into the studio, a ball of almost frenzied energy. “Hi!” you cried exuberantly, causing the current occupants of the room to look up at you. Almost all the members were there, sans Yoongi and, of course, Taehyung, who was following you at a more sedate pace, and they grinned at you.

“Y/N!” Jungkook leapt up from his seat and rushed over to you, and as you hugged him he picked you clean off the floor to swing you around, giggling. The tiger hybrid’s ears flicked excitedly as he took you in. “Don’t you look pretty today?” he cooed, rubbing his cheek over the top of your head. You stood still to let him, used to all the members attempting to scent you since it was basically an affectionate gesture.

“Thank you, Kookie-oppa,” you said politely, smiling up at him.

“You’re such a polite girl,” Seokjin complimented you, pulling a Tupperware of your favourite spicy baby octopus out of his bag. When Taehyung had texted them last night that you would be coming today, he’d immediately gotten to work preparing some of your favourite snacks.

“Ooh, thank you, Seokjin-oppa!” you sang as you stood to take it from him – with both hands, of course, and accompanied by a deep bow.

“Don’t you mean Seokjin-samchoon?” Jungkook ribbed, causing the hyena hybrid to snarl at him.

By the time Taehyung entered the room, you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Jimin, happily sharing your food with them, while Jungkook and Seokjin were playfighting, Hoseok egging both of them on. He sighed as he headed to the last empty couch and dropped down on it heavily, used to the chaos of his members.

“Where’s Suga-hyung?” Taehyung asked, looking around.

You shrugged. “Probably still in bed,” you responded to the amusement of everyone in the room.

Unfortunately for you, the man in question walked through the doors just in time to hear your remark, and he scowled. “For your information,” he bit out acerbically, “I was in my studio. I’m not Jimin,” he said, rolling his eyes, even as he bent down in front of you and opened his mouth for the proffered mouthful of food you were holding in your chopsticks for him.

“Hey!” Jimin protested. “I thought we were past that.”

“Never,” Taehyung promised, and you giggled. To ease the sting of his members teasing him, Jimin aggressively scented you, and you leaned into him to facilitate it.

Taehyung, observing your interaction with the other hybrid, tried not to show his irritation on his face, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to feel that way. When you’d first come to live with them, the others had been cautious about getting their scents on you, just in case it was something that bothered him, but he’d made sure to assure them that he didn’t mind. After all, all of them were pack. It made sense for them to smell like each other, and it had even comforted him sometimes when you came to him drenched in the scents of his members.

Now that your scent was different, though, he didn’t like it as much when the other members rubbed up against you. It was a shameful, terrible feeling to be possessive over you like that, and he noted somewhat wryly that he could add it to the list. He really hadn’t been a paragon of virtue when it came to you recently.

When the boys started working, you pulled out the book you were currently reading and settled in. By now, you knew how to entertain yourself when at the studio, and tuned them out for the most part. As a result, you didn’t notice the way Taehyung’s attention would drift over to you instead of his members, but Namjoon did.

The older man raised his brow as Taehyung stared at you, sitting on a couch in the corner of the studio, instead of listening to the melody that Yoongi had just been working on. This was uncharacteristic of Taehyung, to say the least, and though as a leader he was somewhat annoyed at Taehyung’s inattention, he was also worried, remembering how strangely the wolf hybrid had acted the other night. He was still watching Taehyung out of his peripheral vision when he saw Taehyung catch himself staring, shake his head and frown.

He followed Taehyung’s gaze to you, wondering what it was that had captured Taehyung’s attention. You seemed unaware of it, turning the page on your book and continuing to read with a soft, relaxed expression, eagerly devouring the page. He couldn’t detect any differences, either – aside from the fact that you’d grown a little and carried yourself differently, you were much the same as you were when they’d left for the army.

Still, there must be some explanation for Taehyung’s sudden change in behavior, and he ran his eyes over your face more closely, watching for any hints.

Unfortunately, Taehyung, looking up from his notes, saw Namjoon staring at you, and before he could stop it, he growled at the wild dog hybrid. A second later, he realized what he’d just done, and shame flooded him. He got up so suddenly that the chair he was sitting in rolled away, bumping against the studio board, and fled the room.

Immediately, you put your book down and got up, ready to follow him to ask what had gotten him so upset, but Namjoon stopped you. “I’ll go talk to him,” he assured you, and looking up at the serious set of his jaw, you nodded, knowing that Taehyung was in good hands.

Namjoon found Taehyung in the restroom, bracing himself against the sinks with his head bowed. Hearing the door open and able to identify his leader by his scent, Taehyung’s hands tightened.

“You doing okay?” Namjoon asked mildly, leaning against the restroom door.

“Go away,” Taehyung grumped without moving.

“Tae, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting weird since we came back from the military. Tell me what’s going on, please?”

“Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine,” Taehyung denied, his voice becoming increasingly whiny.

“Tae, come on. We’re brothers, you can tell me what’s up.” Namjoon went over to the wolf hybrid and rested his hand on his shoulder.

Resolutely, Taehyung stayed silent.

Left with no other recourse, Namjoon started guessing. “Is it because your heat is coming soon?”

Taehyung’s head shot up, and he stared at Namjoon in the mirror. “My what?”

Namjoon quirked his brow at the younger man. “Your heat?” he prompted. “The one you’ve had once a year for about ten years now?”

Taehyung paled. With all that had been going on with you, he’d totally forgotten about it. Fuck. He was not going to get through this heat alive.

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts #bts fic #bts hybrid au #hybrid bts #taehyung smut #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts future au

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thisissirius · 4 years

Note

How about for Buck and Eddie if you want to, “Could you repeat that?”

YOU GOT IT, ANON

kindness is a language (which the deaf can hear)eddie/buck, deaf!buck

“Could you repeat that?”

Buck gets tired of saying it.

When he’s younger, he tries to get by without any aid. His parents can afford to pay for whatever he needs, but they refuse to fund anything that would make him look less than perfect.

Hearing aids, cochlear implants?

Those would mar Buck’s appearance and they won’t have it. Buck’s not surprised. His mother insists on covering Buck’s birthmark with makeup until he’s sixteen and decides to hell with it, he’s gonna be proud. (It helps that he’s tall and bulky enough by that point to stand up to them without fear.)

His lack of hearing is something else entirely.

The only person who bothers to learn Sign is Maddie. She’s careful with it at first. They never do it in front of their parents (they learn to communicate through looks and gestures their parents can’t claim as Sign) and Maddie always makes sure to learn at Buck’s pace. Buck learns to talk with Maddie’s help. It’s difficult at first, he watches the way Maddie winces when he’s too loud, so he can regulate his volume. He takes his cues from Maddie and neither of them realize the downsides until Doug appears and Maddie’s gone.

Buck’s left in a house where his parents talk to him as though he can hear every word.

Can you repeat that, becomes Buck’s go-to phrase.

His parents’ exasperation drives him to college, where he learns how much it’s going to cost him for aids or implants without help. He goes behind his parents’ backs, gets aids to start with because the implant feels permanent. They help, and he gets by, though he doesn’t like them. He thinks if this is how Hearing people listen, he doesn’t want a part of it. He grits his teeth and gets through it because he’s set his sights on being something better;

Navy SEAL.

Buck’s confident until the physical. As soon as they realize he’s deaf, they assure him there are plenty of civilian jobs he can do instead, but he won’t make the SEALs.

It’s the first time Buck’s really hated his disability, and he can’t even tell Maddie. She’s miles away, crushed under the weight of Doug, and Buck doesn’t know how to get to her.

He’s alone.

It’s not until he’s caught up in a car accident - he’s not involved in the major crash, but his car comes out with damage - and he’s watching the first responders work that he thinks I wanna do that.

Deafness precludes him from most of the things he wants to do, so he reluctantly decides to get implants. It’ll mean he can hear to do his job - and LA County will let him wear the uniform and get paid instead of volunteer.

He doesn’t like them, spends so long looking in the mirror, running his fingers over the implants and swallows down the urge to scream. Learning to hear, to interpret sounds as something he understands is hard and many times he almost gives up. He just wants to do what he loves, with the disability that made him, and he wants it on the same terms as everybody else.

Safety is paramount, he knows this, and he knows his crew needs to rely on him. If he can’t hear, he can’t help. He grits his teeth, digs his nails into his hands, and deals with the implants. It’s necessary.

There’s Abby, the first person since Maddie to Sign for him and god, he loves her for it. She teaches him so much, and not just because she shows him being Deaf isn’t something he needs to hide when he’s fu-in a relationship with someone. He loves her for it, makes him want to talk to Maddie for the first time in years.

But she goes, takes most of Buck with her. He’s lonely, he knows, and more in person than hearing.

Which doesn’t explain why the first thing he does when Eddie Diaz shows up is think threat.

Eddie’s not a threat; his eyes flit to Buck’s implants like everybody else, but he never asks. He just nods, moves on to the next topic, and Buck’s thrown enough by it that he’s antagonistic.

Until the bomb. Until Bobby’s about to say, not Buck for the first time in months, but Eddie asks for him, wants him by his side. Buck’s not sure what it means, not even when the ambulance blows and Eddie’s asking if he wants dinner.

They want dinner.

Buck’s not sure what happens after that;

Eddie likes him, genuinely wants to spend time with him, and then Christopher.

He’s perfect, the best little man Buck’s ever met, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on them the first time they have a conversation.

Christopher looks at his implants, then down at his crutches. “We match!”

They don’t, not really, but Buck grins. It’s genuine, something he’s not felt for a long, long time, and he nods. “Yeah, Buddy, we do.”

They high five, but then Christopher’s face falls. “I can’t learn Sign, Buck.”

Buck’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, and he deliberately doesn’t look at Eddie as he rests a hand under Christopher’s chin, looks him in the eye. “Don’t you worry about that, Christopher. I’ll always hear you.”

It’s not a promise he usually makes because he can’t, but just the look on Christopher’s face, the dejected slant to his mouth has Buck talking.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie says. He talks clearly, makes sure Buck is looking, and Buck’s heart lurches painfully once again. Eddie doesn’t have to; the implants work well enough that he could just talk normally, but something about the way he always speaks to Buck is careful.

“You don’t have to do that,” Buck says, waving a hand at Eddie. “Make sure I can hear you.”

Eddie’s eyes are bright. “Why?”

“I can hear you with these,” Buck says, lips curling on the words in a way he can’t help.

There’s something in Eddie’s expression he can’t decipher. “That’s why,” he says, nodding at Buck. “The expression you make when you talk about them.”

Buck frowns.

“Why get them if you don’t like them?”

“Because I wouldn’t be a firefighter otherwise,” Buck says, wincing. “Not- I could volunteer, but it’s not the same. This is - this is my life, Eddie, and I get to do it without having to worry about a full-time job as well. It’s - it’s all I want, and being born Deaf never seemed to matter until then.”

Eddie steps forward, hand resting on Buck’s neck. It’s warm, a point of contact Buck can’t ignore, and he sucks in a breath, not sure he wants to breathe. It’ll ruin the moment. “If you don’t wanna wear em around me, Buck, that’s okay.”

“Christopher,” Buck croaks, because he doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’ll learn, Eddie signs, and Buck can’t breathe for a completely different reason.

“You Sign?”

“I can learn,” Eddie promises, and Buck lets out a sob, thinks of Maddie and Abby, and closes his eyes, nods. Eddie pulls him close, nose brushing Buck’s temple, the outline of the implant. “Just be you, Buck, even if that means you turn them off when we’re together.”

Buck’s hands grip Eddie’s hips, holds on because he thinks maybe he’ll fall if Eddie doesn’t keep him up. “Have to at work.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and Buck’s still not completely sure about inflection in people’s voices, but he thinks he hears regret. “Not at home.”

Home. With Eddie and Christopher?

“Or with me,” Eddie adds a beat too late, but there’s still promise in Eddie’s face, in the way he smiles tentatively, slowly, and Buck finds himself smiling back.

“Eddie.”

Eddie’s mouth twitches. Buck adjusts his implant, knows he’ll turn it back on for Christopher until they’re comfortable enough that they can communicate around Buck’s Deafness, but for now he needs this.

“All right?” Eddie says, making sure Buck’s watching his lips.

Buck nods, lets out the breath he feels like he’s been holding the entire time. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Eddie says. Then Signs, I’d do anything for you.

Maybe because it’s hard to say aloud, but to Buck, he might as well have screamed it.

#have to write that deaf au in every fandom!#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #buddie #christopher diaz #maddie buckley #fic by me #otp: no one i trust more with my son #9-1-1 #fic: deaf!buck

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “First Impressions (Pilot)” REVAMPED [ 1.01 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

When we first wrote the pilot, we were just throwing it out there, seeing what would happen. It was a first draft. Our own new start. It’s been a long time since then.

And oh, how much has happened. So many awesome things.

This, I hope, is closer to the pilot AAA always deserved. Thanks for reading, and for whatever awesome things come next.

50 Minutes (10K words) || No warnings apply. || [ S1 Synopsis ] || [ AO3 ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - DAY

Regal. That’s the impression this institution gives off at first glance, a Smithsonian-esque exterior standing out amidst the grey concrete jungle of Manhattan. A wide shot provides a picturesque view of the structure from above, when slowly a title card appears on the screen:

Adams Academy of the Arts.

In a fluid motion, the words dissolve and condense together, leaving only a logo of three As in red, gold, and white.

AAA.

By now, it’s pretty clear we’re watching an advert of some kind. Especially when we transition…

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

… to the principal’s office. JACKSON “JACK” HUNTER (40s), a sharply dressed and calmly confident man, is seated at the mahogany desk with his hands clasped together in front of him. He offers the camera a pleasant smile, addressing us directly.

Jack: Hi. I’m Jack Hunter, the principal of Adams Academy of the Arts. If you’re watching this video, then it’s likely you’re considering applying to our elite program for high school students. Well, either that, or you’re very lost.

Administrator humor. Jack chuckles, pauses, and continues in his professional tone.

Jack: If it’s the former, then I’m happy to be of assistance. Adams is at the forefront of performing arts education, and many of our alumni have gone on to do amazing things -- some of whom you might even recognize. While we strongly emphasize the important balance of academics with your professional goals, there is nothing more paramount than providing you, an artist on the rise, with the space to explore your potential, build your skills, and put you on the path towards success.

As Jack continues to discuss, quick panning shots of the interior of the school set the scene. It’s very clearly a promotional video, the tone upbeat and inspiring. Jack describes the facilities they have (two whole auditoriums, state of the art technical equipment, numerous practice rooms and studios), as well as the different core focuses a student can pursue -- music, performance, dance. He emphasizes their technical education program, one of the leading curriculums in the state that provides their budding technicians with hands-on experience right from the get-go.

When we cut back to Jack, still pleasantly seated behind the desk, he begins to get into what the day-to-day process of a student is like, and how this crop of students is chosen.

Jack: Every year, just about 50 students -- split into two cohorts, allowing for even more individualized instruction -- enter the halls of AAA as the freshman class. These incoming artists have talent, dedication, discipline, and above all? Ambition. These students, like you, seek out the opportunities to achieve whatever their driving passion might be -- whatever it takes. While here, they’ll hone their craft, explore the other realms of their field, learn from one another as well as highly skilled educators, and form bonds that they will carry with them for life.

All sounds swell. Jack smiles wider.

Jack: As for what this experience is like, well -- how about I let them show you?

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

This launches a quick-cut, exciting montage of what the world of Adams seems to be like. It’s full of photos, clips, and candids of the students hard at work. Performers learning choreography, soloists in the midst of a final performance, stage lights bright. Technicians piecing together sets, stage managers with headsets around their neck and thoughtful expressions, coaches and teachers lecturing to an engaged group in the black box theater.

Above all, there is a clear sense of community. All of the students are thrilled to be there, working hard, laughing and smiling with one another. While the slideshow is mainly filled with upperclassmen, there are a few faces here and there that will soon become quite familiar to us.

Sure seems like a dream high school experience, particularly for someone interested in the arts. Especially for someone who feels like an outsider, a creative, looking for a place to belong.

Jack, voiceover: The competition is fierce, and the process isn’t easy. It’s work, hard work, but any passion worth pursuing takes a little faith and a whole lot of elbow grease. The best of the best make their way to Adams, and without a doubt, the best emerge from it ready to take on the world.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

The video is wrapping up, Jack looking as confident as ever. He’s just shown us a pretty gleaming example of a school, and he looks pretty stalwart and shining himself.

Jack: The question is, where do the best of the best come from? Who has what it takes to join our elite and excellent rank of future artists? [ a beat ] Do you?

As the upbeat tones of David Bowie fade in...

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Changes” as performed by David Bowie and Butterfly Boucher || Performed by Riley Matthews & Jack Hunter

An alarm goes off, a hand reaching out and hitting it off immediately. RILEY MATTHEWS (15) lays in bed, already awake and staring at the ceiling. From how anxious she looks, it seems like she hasn’t slept much at all. But then, she smiles, forcing herself to focus on the excitement.

This is going to be the day everything changes for the better. She launches out of bed, hitting play on her phone. Underneath the track, playing “Changes,” we see a reminder on her homescreen. It’s bright over a photo of her and her younger brother, neither parent featured.

First day of new school!!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - BATHROOM - DAY

As Riley gets ready for school, she sings along to the first verse. She braids her hair, puts on her nicest, most distinct outfit, before running out the door.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY

She says goodbye to her mother TOPANGA LAWRENCE (late 30s), kisses her younger brother AUGGIE MATTHEWS (8) on the top of the head. When she reaches her father waiting at the door, CORY MATTHEWS (late 30s), the two of them exchange excited grins before heading out the door together.

EXT. AAA - DAY

The two of them emerge from the nearest subway stop, and Riley gets her first good look at Adams Academy for the Arts. It’s a beautiful and daunting marble building nestled in the middle of the Upper East Side. Visualize the MET, but with the flourish and slight humble nature of a high school (although humble is not a word one would use to describe this school). It’s even more impressive in person, looming over her, than as shown in the opening video.

Cory is already on his way up the steps, but Riley hangs back, staring up at the building in awe. Somewhat overwhelmed. Students pass her by on their way inside, many far better dressed. This is a school where much of the student population is probably worth more than the school itself.

This is it. Her opportunity. Does she have what it takes?

Gearing herself up, Riley jogs her way up the steps after her father. Panning towards the school, through the atrium and across the main offices…

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Meanwhile, Jack Hunter is in his office preparing for her arrival. He’s still well-groomed, clearly an instrument of discipline and order, but he seems more harried than he did on camera. Reality versus the polished quality of promotional material.

Jack wanders his way over to the window, looking out at the students making their way into school. He carries the second verse, lamenting how things never change and students are… not so willing to listen to reason (“They’re immune to your consultations / They’re quite aware what they’re going through…”)

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Jack heads out of his office to walk the halls before the school day truly kicks off, Riley is making her way through them as well. This is our first glimpse into the hallowed halls of Adams, as well as the cast of large personalities we’re about to spend a series with…

Riley has to duck around ZAY BABINEAUX (15), a lithe and groovy dance student with a clear sense of self and an even clearer sense of style. He’s rehearsing with other dancers in the middle of the hallway. Nearby, CHARLIE GARDNER (15) is holding court with a lot of the girls in the class, seemingly the preferred cute male of choice at AAA. He’s the full package -- fluffy hair, pressed polo shirt, charming grin.

As Riley passes him, he eyes her and gives her a smile. Friendly, or flirtatious? Who’s to say…

For Jack, it’s evident as he walks the halls just how incongruous he is with the scenery. He’s passionate about AAA, sure, but his straight-laced and stern approach contrasts sharply with the energy, colorfulness, and folly of the students themselves. His presence is enough to pry two kissing classmates away from one another, and he earns more than a few derisive glares from students as he goes.

MAYA HART (16) is parading the halls with her clones DARBY WINTERS (15) and SARAH CARLSON (15), rambling on about some performance-related complaint. Maya is a girl with a brand -- she is the most glamorous girl Riley has ever seen, from the glossy blonde hair to the perfectly put together outfit that looks entirely made of brand-name items. They don’t even notice Riley, practically bulldozing past her without an apology.

A gangly student is arguing animatedly with ANGELA MOORE (30s), the performing arts teacher for the sophomores, outside the black box theater classroom. Angela was featured in the promotional video, but she seems way less confident now trying to tangle with this overzealous student. This is FARKLE MINKUS (15), Jewish American diva. He’s immediately identifiable as over-the-top, both with the way he’s arguing with a teacher and his swoopy hair and blazer. Like, this kid is wearing a blazer to school.

We can tell right away that Mister Farkle Minkus is going to be a PIECE. OF. WORK. Riley can too, raising her eyebrows as she passes by their disagreement.

Jack passes by Zay and his crop of dancing students, disbanding them as dancing is not allowed in the halls. Come on, they know this! The group of them don’t look very pleased, Zay tossing a scowl over his shoulder as they retreat to their respective homerooms.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

As we get to “Strange fascination fascinating me…” Riley passes by the atrium stairwell, where the sophomore techies always congregate each morning. They’re all in dark clothes (because that’s how techies dress, but so do GOTHS???), and seem like a chaotic bunch. DAVE WILLIAMS (15) and ASHER GARCIA (14) are lobbing food at DYLAN ORLANDO (15) to see what he can catch in his mouth. NATE MARTINEZ (15) and JEFF MONROE (15) are arguing heatedly about something, but it’s impossible to tell if they’re actually upset or not. JADE BEAMON (15) is sketching in a notebook, occasionally looking up to roll her eyes at the argument.

Holding first position at the bottom of the stairs are LUCAS JAMES FRIAR (16) and ISADORA DE LA CRUZ (15), deep in conversation. Well, conversation meaning Isadora is ranting, and Lucas isn’t saying much of anything. They’re both the most intimidating of the bunch even from a glance -- Isadora due to her intense wardrobe and general aura of authority, Lucas due to his seemingly permanent disdainful expression… and maybe the fact that he is openly playing with a switchblade.

Of course, they both look up to find Riles staring at them. She makes eye contact with Lucas before quickly turning away. I mean, they’ve got a switchblade. Scary! She YEETS outta there.

Just in time to make it back to the front office, where she steps inside just as Jack steps out of his office. He offers her a smile.

Jack: Hi, Miss Matthews. Welcome to Adams Academy of the Arts.

Taking a deep breath, she returns his smile. Welcome to Adams, indeed. And, for the first time…

AMBITION. Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack walks Riley through everything she might need to know, explaining her daily schedule and handing over welcome materials. As they’re conversing, ERIC MATTHEWS (40s) steps in as acting counselor to also give a welcome to Riley -- but it’s clear that they already know each other. She’s his niece!

As they exchange friendly banter, Jack doesn’t seem at all surprised. He makes a comment about how the Matthews family really does have a foothold in Adams, given that Riley’s father is also one of their core academic teachers. Eric doesn’t take well to Jack’s tone, cheerfully firing back a remark.

Eric: Well, I suppose Triple A has always been about family. That’s why you hired Shawn, right? Top of the line, highly skilled educators…

It’s clear that there’s some tension behind their words, at least that it seems like Jack and Eric are rarely on the same page. Riley picks up on this right quick, awkwardly looking down at her welcome materials. Jack changes the subject, suggesting that Riley head off to performance lab before they get any further derailed. After all, Eric does just love to meander time away...

Eric smiles, but it’s sharp. Rather than returning a backhanded jab, he offers to show Riley to her first class. As they’re heading out, Jack assures Riley that he’s certain she’ll find what she’s looking for at Adams.

She certainly hopes so, Jack. And away they go...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley enters the auditorium, where a majority of the classes will be held. Many of the students in the sophomore A class cohort are already assembled in the first few rows of the audience, eagerly conversing with one another and catching up from the end of summer. The techies are situated further back, with their feet up on the backs of chairs and hardly paying attention.

Already, Riley is feeling the struggle of finding a place to fit. She plops herself alone in a row somewhere between the chatty performers and brooding techies, isolated from day one. Hooray.

From behind her, Dave turns around to whisper something to Dylan and Asher about her sitting alone. Lucas is also watching her, somewhat amused at how uncertain she seems about the whole situation.

Angela saunters to the front of the stage, snapping them to attention and welcoming them back for another year. She gives a rousing speech about how this year is going to be more intense than the first, but also full of self-discovery, pushing our comfort zones, and more than anything, becoming better artists. Maya, Zay, and Farkle all listen with rapt interest. Isadora rolls her eyes.

Just as she’s reaching the climactic conclusion of her monologue, she’s interrupted by SHAWN HUNTER (30s), stumbling in ten minutes late to his own class. He’s unshaven, clearly a bit of a mess, and dressed far less impressively than Angela or a majority of their students. Riley raises her eyebrows, obviously confused by his presence.

Angela: [ with biting sarcasm ] And there he is. My wonderful co-instructor, right on time.

At this, Riley’s eyebrows shoot up. Co-instructor? That guy? The rest of the performers seem equally unimpressed, a few rolling their eyes or exchanging grimaces. The techies are amused, grinning as their lead technician fumbles to the stage.

Angela: Anything you care to share with the class before we kick off our second year, Mister Hunter? Any sudden stroke of wisdom? Or basic decency?

Shawn jogs up, coming to an out of breath stand-still next to her. Side by side, the contrast between them is even more pronounced. He shrugs, half-smirking.

Shawn: Sing some stuff?

In mocking solidarity, the techies erupt into cheers. Dave and Dylan give him a standing ovation. The performers look annoyed. Farkle turns around to glare at them.

Riley is taking all of this with marked confusion. Shawn takes a sarcastic bow.

Angela, sharply: Classy as always.

For their first performing assignment of the year, Angela encourages all of them to come up and sing whatever they’ve been working on this past summer. Innocent enough. When she asks who wants to go first, however, the front of the auditorium erupts as Zay, Maya, and Farkle all leap to their feet and scrap to get to the stage first. Riley is like… what on Earth.

Farkle succeeds, yanking Zay out of the way and scrambling onto the front of the stage (they didn’t even take the fucking stairs). The clear victor, Farkle jumps back to his full height triumphantly as Maya and Zay begrudgingly return to their seats.

Farkle begins a little monologue as he adjusts his blazer, establishing his personality loud and clear. As far as he’s concerned, this year is going to be about change, and the change is going to be him taking his rightful place as the undisputed Star of the Sophomores. Maya and Zay clearly don’t agree with this assessment, so there’s already guaranteed to be drama. Lovely…

Thusly, Farkle launches into his first performance of the year (and the series).

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Man About Town” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle kicks us off with a bold and frenzied rendition of the Broadway tune. As with many of the performances in this pilot, the solos serve to establish a baseline for each of the characters and their inherent capabilities, style, and tone. Farkle is a power tenor without a doubt, able to reach pretty high in his register and even higher in energetic delivery.

The electricity in his performance is less intrinsic and more frantic, though, indicative of a craving for the spotlight and a scrappy determined nature to maintain it at whatever cost. It demonstrates his undeniable vocal skill, for sure, but also his capacity to be obnoxious. The song seems to speak to what Farkle is hoping will be his truth -- that everyone will take notice of him, pay attention to him, that he’ll rise to the stars like he feels he’s been destined.

Riley is stunned by the amount of talent already on display. If she wants to prove that she’s here by her own merit and talent rather than just because her father works here, then she is going to have to bring it.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Maya and her clones hang out in the girls dressing room, getting ready for the rest of performance lab. Sarah points out that Farkle has gotten better over the summer; Darby mentions he’s gotten cuter, too.

Sarah, in disgust: Minkus? You’re joking.

Darby: Come on. He’s sort of cute!

Maya: Sure. Like a hedgehog with a deadly case of rabies.

Darby: He got taller. He looks sharper now, more mature.

Sarah: He looks like Mike Teavee in Willy Wonka after he got put through the taffy puller.

Darby: No he doesn’t!

Sarah: God, you fall for anything with testosterone and half a working vocal chord…

Quickly losing interest in discussing boys -- especially Farkle Minkus -- Maya waves off their concern about his talent. She claims she’s going to blow him out of the water, and this year is far from belonging to him.

The rivalry is loud and clear.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley comes by to visit Eric, who eagerly greets her and situates her in the chair opposite his desk. It’s a cozy, comfortable office, far less clinical, but also less organized, than Jack’s. It’s evident why many students feel comfortable stopping in when they have a free moment. Eric jokingly points out this is their first official visit as counselor and student, before he asks her how the morning went and how she’s feeling about the school.

Riley avoids her own discomfort and feelings of disillusionment by asking Eric to tell her more about the other students instead. How is she supposed to catch up to the scenery and feel like she’s in the loop if everyone feels like a mystery? Eric agrees, trying to figure out the best way to go about explaining it to her.

Eric: Kind of feels like having to explain the history of the universe. There’s a lot of personality in the A class, you’ll find.

Riley: Oh, I got that sense pretty quickly.

An idea strikes Eric, expression brightening. He grabs his yearbook from the previous school year off the shelf behind him. As he plops it down onto the desk, he instructs Riley to pay close attention, because there is a lot to unpack.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “High School Never Ends” as performed by Bowling for Soup || Instrumental

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As Eric talks Riley through each of the main players, we watch a typical sophomore class unfold in the auditorium. It’s pure chaos, a whirlwind of production and performers getting in the way of techies and people butting heads.

We cut between this simulated auditorium sequence and Riley and Eric talking in the office, falling into a rhythm with the classic bopping rock tune. As Eric jumps to each key student, we freeze on them in the midst of whatever they’re doing at the time.

Starting, notably, with Zay Babineaux, the dancer from the halls. The screen freeze frames on him in the midst of trying to teach choreography to a frazzled NICK YOGI (15) and CLARISSA CRUZ (15).

Eric: Zay Babineaux isn’t a bad person to keep tabs on as far as getting your sea legs around here. He was voted “Most Popular” in the yearbook last year, but the only thing he cares about more than his public approval rating is dance. I mean, the kid is religious about it. It’s part of the reason he’s so good, but that and his drive to make it are what bump him up to Diva status.

Riley: Diva status.

Eric: It’s a whole league of its own here. Everyone is driven to a certain degree -- you have to be at Triple A -- but the Divas are the ones you really need to watch out for. Zay is far from the worst of the bunch, but his dedication really puts a sharp edge on his otherwise personable presence.

The scene resumes, panning from Yogi and Clarissa struggling to learn to Charlie leading the same choreography with a gaggle of female classmates. This includes HALEY FISHER (15), who seems especially taken with him.

Charlie demonstrates much better patience than Zay in teaching others, but the girls aren’t really listening to what he’s saying. They’re more distracted by… other things he has to offer.

Eric: If you’re stuck on choreography and actually want help, then your best bet is to turn to Charlie Gardner instead. He’s incredibly well-mannered, genuinely nice kid, but I’m sure your dad would want me to warn you he does have a reputation with the ladies.

Riley: Does he date a lot of them?

Eric: To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him date anyone. But every girl wishes he would, so that’s kind of a heartbreaker move all its own, isn’t it? Still, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. If you’re looking for what to avoid…

Isadora marches across the stage, headset around her neck and show binder in her arms. She’s shouting orders, almost comically deafening Dave following behind her.

Eric: Don’t get in the way of Isadora Smackle while she’s in stage manager mode. That girl is five feet of pure unadulterated power, and she is not afraid to burn you and your ego to the ground.

Riley: Not much to burn for me.

Eric: Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly talented. She’s got a vision like no one else, and it’s hard not to admire how passionate she is about seeing that vision come to fruition. She’s just… not fond of things that slow that process down. Like not following directions, or creating issues that don’t exist. And the queen of doing that…

Maya storms out of the dressing room hall and storms onto the stage, holding up a costume choice and obviously having much to say about it. She’s in the midst of diva transformation, makeup more glamorous than before and glossy blonde hair up out of her face.

Eric: Is Maya Hart. Now, Maya is probably the most talented triple threat we have in the sophomore class. She can dance, she can act, and by God, can she sing. But she also has an unbridled sense of what’s best for a production, and will happily fight every single person necessary until her voice is heard. She’s in hot pursuit of her dream, for better or worse, and she is ruthless.

Maya marches past the techies, Asher and Jade scrambling to get out of her way and avoid her fury. She nearly knocks Nate and Dylan into the wall while they’re carrying a two-by-four beam, which almost hits Lucas in the head. He ducks just in time. As he’s getting back up, we freeze on him mid-eye roll and looking just about ready to kill.

Eric: And whatever you do, do not mess with Lucas James Friar. If your dad were here, he’d tell you not to speak to him. Don’t even look at him unless absolutely necessary.

Riley: Why?

Eric: Lucas is… not exactly Adams’ favorite student. And that makes complete sense, because the feeling is 100% mutual.

Riley: So why is he here then?

Eric: Fair question. But I think you’ll come to find everyone came here for different reasons, Riley. I mean, look at you. Adams wasn’t your first choice for a school a year ago.

True enough. Riley still seems curious, but Eric continues on without harping on it any longer.

Eric: There’s plenty Lucas dislikes about the school -- and believe me, I’ve heard enough about it in our mandated meetings over the past year -- but nothing more so than the “diva attitudes,” namely…

Lucas has to duck again to avoid the bony arms of Farkle, who is just launching into a loud, bold, aggressive solo. He swings his arms out wide, tilting his head back and delivering a note with Rachel Berry levels of fervor. Freeze on his dramatic, impassioned belting face.

Eric: Farkle Minkus. Trust fund baby, unparalleled genius, and vocal champion -- in both singing and complaining. He’s certainly our Rachel Berry, if nothing else.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

As Eric finishes up his CliffNotes edition of the sophomore A class, the warning bell beckons Riley back to class. Eric assures her that she has always been a people person, and he is certain that she’ll be fine. Riley nods along, choosing to believe him.

When he asks if she’s decided what her first performance is going to be, she books it out of the office. Sorry, Uncle Eric! Gotta get to class, ha ha...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Back in the auditorium, class continues. As Riley makes her way back to the center section, she overhears snippets of the closely congregated crew of techie students. They’re discussing Maya, and Dylan Orlando’s grin is wide and mischievous.

Dylan: I think I should go next. What if I did? Just to throw her off.

Asher: [ elbowing him ] No. Don’t --

Jeff: It’s your funeral.

Dylan: I think I should. I think --

Nate, laughing: As if you can even sing.

Dylan: You don’t know, you don’t know. I could be great. You don’t know...

But no, it’s Maya's turn to sing her piece. She takes the stage just as Riley is settling back into her seat, giving a speech very similar to Farkle’s. In fact, it’s essentially a fuck-you right back to him by twisting his words. Then she launches into her own show-stopping return from the summer, expressing its one of her favorite Broadway tunes -- and a natural fit in her repertoire.

Farkle is miffed by her song choice, seemingly a selection chosen solely to offend him.

Farkle: This bitch knows I claimed rights to all numbers in the Elphaba song canon. Unbelievable.

Dave, leaning over to Yogi: Okay, what is a song cannon, and how do I get one?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Wizard and I” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart

From her first introduction to performing, Maya presents an interesting array of stage presence. She can carry a Broadway tune with ease, but her voice seems equally built for pop excellence. Her command of the stage is effortless -- whether you love or hate her, she’s impossible to look away from when she’s delivering a performance. The glamour of her overall appearance elevates it, but what shines is her obvious raw talent and determination.

If anyone defines what it means to have ambition, it would be Maya Hart.

Her vocals are truly stellar, and her performance is daunting. While the techies remain unimpressed -- they’ve seen this all before, too many times, after all -- Riley is totally freaked by how intense the competition is turning out to be. While the rest of the class applauds (in varied states of reluctance), she seems like she’s trying not to throw up.

INT. AAA - GIRL’S BATHROOM - DAY

The lunch bell rings. Riley has hidden herself away in the restroom, tucked in the corner stall and pacing. She attempts to talk herself down from a spiral, fully intimidated after Maya’s performance. Another deep breath...

She steps out and looks in the mirror, repeating the mantra to herself again and again. She has what it takes. She belongs here. She belongs here. She belongs here!

Riley is not going to let this year be like the others. She’s not repeating her freshman year. This year is about change, for the better, and she’s going to make it so. But to do that, she’s going to need some friends.

Time to put herself out there and start breaking down these barriers.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Angela arrives at Jack’s office, knocking curtly on the door. Although the two of them have a good working relationship and typically friendly rapport, it’s evident at that moment that she is not there with good tidings. Jack tries to side step whatever the complaint is, asking if she thinks their new student is adjusting well.

Jack: Seems nice, doesn’t she? Good kid. Should be a good influence, hopefully --

Angela: I’m not here to talk about Matthews. I’m here to talk about the ridiculous excuse for a co-instructor you call half-brother.

Yikes. Well, might as well go on, then. Jack sighs and listens plaintively as Angela informs him that Shawn showed up late this morning, and was no help during the performance lab sessions. Obviously she doesn’t know how his homeroom check-in with the techies went, but she can assume shabbily with little doubt in her mind.

Jack: I haven’t gotten a complaint from the student technicians.

Angela: I’m sure you haven’t. They don’t know any better. And even if they did, I doubt any of them would take the time to formally complain. Half of them don’t appear capable of speech, and the other half are avoiding your office anyway. Likely no doubt due to subconscious contagious influence from their instructor.

Jack: Oh, come on now.

Angela: They won’t complain, but lucky for them, I will.

Jack holds up a hand, halting her tirade. He assures her that he hears her, and he’s aware that Shawn isn’t yet performing to his best ability. He has only been in the position for a year, after all. He just needs some time to get in the swing of things, that’s all.

Angela: When I spent a season in the Guys And Dolls touring troupe, we got our sea legs fast. You know what happened if you fucked up on tour? You got cut. We didn’t get a week to blunder our way through it, let alone a year.

Pointedly, Angela states that it just seems odd. Coming from Jack Hunter, the pillar of authority at this school, such negligence is damn surprising. Given how Eric is always complaining that Jack is too straight and narrow for an arts school, it’s ironic that he’s willing to let one of their faculty members be so off the wagon and not fire him tout de suite.

Fair as that criticism may be, Jack claims he’s made his choices and she needs to trust his role as an administrator. She is of course welcome to continue leveling complaints as she sees necessary, and he’ll touch base with Shawn, but he also points out that she might be operating with some bias of her own in reporting on her co-instructor.

At this, Angela gets huffy. She shrugs off the accusation and storms off, claiming she has students to actually educate. Once she’s gone, Jack releases another heavy sigh, slouching back in his chair. Evidently, the put together and effortless appearance of Adams in the promotional video is not all that truthful… one has to wonder how much of it is expectation versus reality...

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

The cafeteria, the classic worst place to be a new student on your first day. Even more intimidating at AAA, where the cafeteria is more claustrophobic than most with only a hundred students to accommodate at a time. Not only that, but everyone seems to already have their lunchtime crew.

Riley weaves her way through the crowd, eyeing places to potentially start her new endeavor. The techie table is at least relatively quiet, tucked away in the corner, but no way is she heading over there. Half of them are in eager and fast-paced conversation with one another, and their chaotic energy still radiates.

Not to mention, Lucas is amongst them and remains an intimidating question mark. Eric warned her, after all. He’s looking particularly nonplussed that afternoon, no lunch in front of him as he listens to the others converse. Once again he catches her looking, meeting her eyes and offering no sign of friendliness.

Yeah, not an option. Riley turns away, keeping her distance.

Charlie is holding court with a bunch of the sophomores, mainly girls. He still seems friendly enough, but Riley isn’t sure she wants to risk that potential flirtation. She needs friends, not awkward rejections. Still, she gives him a smile anyway.

Zay watches her from his table, seated with a couple other performers, YINDRA AMINO (15) and NIGEL CHEY (15). They all murmur to one another, somewhat amused, but Zay waves them off. He throws Riley a life preserver after a moment, beckoning her over to join them.

Riley is shocked that they’re talking to her -- they seem like the coolest crop of her classmates, and she in no way mirrors their general energy -- but she’s not foolish enough to refuse the invitation. If they turn out to be playing her, well, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

She slides into the seat across from Zay, who introduces himself and nods to his friends to do the same. Nigel shakes Riley’s hand from the seat next to her. She thanks them for offering her shelter, which Zay shrugs off as no big deal. Yindra asks if being the new student sucks as much as it seems like it does, and Riley is like hello, yes, it’s terrible.

Once she’s gotten comfortable with her new company, Riley asks Zay about his passion for dance and what his future dreams are after AAA. As they get to chatting, Zay expresses that he is Broadway bound with no detours and questions about it. When he gets into talking about how much he loves dance, his passion is clear on his face. He laments the attitude of Farkle and Maya, claiming he’s not like that. A bold claim, only time will tell if it’s true...

Riley asks him about his performance for class, to which he grins. Why tell her about it when he could show her?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dancin’ On the Sidewalk” as performed by FAME! Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. AAA Sophomores)

Zay launches into this upbeat and fun dance tune, expressing his love for dance while pulling the rest of the cafeteria into it. Riley is amazed as everyone just kind of jumps up and jams with him, starting with Yindra and Nigel but slowly spreading throughout the congregation. Eventually, Zay manages to get her to her feet and pull her into it as well.

There is a sizable dance break within the song (naturally), and we get to see Riley show off some of her own skills when she’s not too intimidated. Charlie is also particularly featured in the dancing of the number, showing off his strong capability aside from being cute and charming.

However, not everyone is thrilled by this dancing development. Maya keeps Darby from joining in by yanking her back into her seat, not about to humor her rival. Farkle is the same, watching from his table in the opposite part of the cafeteria and rolling his eyes.

But no one is less thrilled than the techies. They’re exhausted, having to listen to the performers do this shit all the time. Yet another lunch, eclipsed by an impromptu performance. Lucas has had enough, getting to his feet. Isadora argues with him, but he doesn't listen. He’s already on the move. Isadora exchanges a look with Jade and Asher.

During the dance break, Lucas weaves inconspicuously through the crowd. By the end of it, he sneaks out the back door of the cafeteria.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Zay is finishing up the last verse, Lucas makes his way down the hall, surveying the ceiling until he finds what he’s looking for.

Then, he starts scaling the lockers.

Intercut with the dancing, Lucas hefts himself up on top of the lockers, rolling onto his back in the thin space between the top and the ceiling. He digs in his pockets, pulling out a lighter. Ever so carefully, he sparks it and holds it out towards the sprinkler system a foot or so away. Stretching as far as he can reach… getting that flame closer and closer…

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

As Zay and Riley bring the number to an end with a flourish, suddenly the fire alarm blares through the cafeteria. In the next second, there’s a click, and the sprinkler system erupts and douses them all in mucky water.

The cafeteria bursts into chaos, students screaming and trying to run from the building. Maya shrieks, trying to shield her hair as she and her plastics flee the scene. She isn’t afraid to push people out of the way. Farkle, meanwhile, isn’t even trying to run, frozen in rage and getting soaked. He snarls, swinging his wet hair out of his face.

Farkle: THIS OUTFIT IS WORTH MORE THAN THIS SCHOOL!

The techies erupt into laughter, high-fiving and jostling each other around as they exit the building. Dylan looks particularly gleeful, playfully shaking Asher by the shoulders, who looks notably less pleased and more than a little grossed out as he blinks the water out of his eyes.

Zay sighs, shaking his head and giving Riley a half-hearted shrug and well-meaning smile.

Zay: Welcome to Adams.

As if this kind of shit is totally normal. Riley wipes her eyes, dripping wet and totally shocked by this turn of events. What a rollercoaster of a day this is turning out to be. Certainly nothing about this in the school’s advertising...

INT. AAA - GIRL’S DRESSING ROOM - DAY

All of the sophomore girls are together in the dressing room, switching into fresh clothes and drying their hair (of course, performing arts girls have hair care products with them). Riley is the only who doesn’t seem to understand exactly what happened.

Riley: I didn’t see any fire.

Yindra, offhandedly: It wasn’t a fire. It was Friar.

Sarah: [ off of Riley’s continued confusion ] Lucas James Friar? He’s the worst.

Riley: My uncle may have… mentioned him...

Chai: He’s constantly pulling stunts like this and making a scene even though he acts like he’s above it all.

Clarissa: He never does the assignments.

Sarah: Not to mention he’s basically the definition of white trash.

Haley: He’s the worst the techies have to offer. No one even knows why he’s at this school.

This is all news for Riley, much more blatant than what Eric said. Then Isadora steps in, offering a counterpoint.

Isadora: Well, maybe if you didn’t sing and dance every lunch and stop us from enjoying our break from you singing and dancing every class, he wouldn’t need to do this stuff. But I know, you’re all incapable of doing anything but whatever it is you want.

Solid counterpoint, Isa. Riley takes that in as well.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Speaking of Lucas, the girls aren’t the only people who are certain he was the one who caused the fire evacuation. He sits opposite Jack at his desk, and it’s clear just from their posture that they’ve been in this exact position many times before. Yes, Lucas is no stranger to the principal’s office, and no friend to Jack Hunter.

Jack speaks with the exasperation of an exhausted parent who has told his child numerous times not to steal cookies from the cookie jar, but they keep doing it anyway.

Jack: Come on, Mister Friar. This is the fourth time. The fire department is considering adding us to a list. [ off his lightly amused smirk ] Are you really going to start another year this way?

Lucas, calmly: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Jack: We know you did it.

Lucas: You have no proof.

Jack: People saw you leave the cafeteria.

Lucas: I went to the bathroom. People do that, sometimes, you know. It’s actually quite a common bodily function --

Jack: Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

Lucas: All due respect, Principal Hunter, all you have is circumstantial evidence and confirmation bias. So unless you have anything else to add, I really should get back to class so I can listen to Farkle Minkus squawk for yet another jolly day in this wonderful, wonderful institution to higher learning.

Jack doesn’t have any other proof, so there’s not much he can do. But it’s clear -- Lucas is one of his most frustrating students, and he’s run out of ways to make headway with him. It really is a wonder he’s even still at the school…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Lucas makes his way back into the halls and to class, Jack follows him out. He paces a bit to clear his head, get some fresh air rather than sit in his office… and happens to run right into a conversation happening in the adjoining hall. He hangs back around the corner, eavesdropping as Eric stands with a couple of the other teachers.

The group of them are obviously not happy with the sprinkler situation. Understandably so, but Eric is trigger happy to pin the blame on Jack. He sympathizes with the complaints of the fellow faculty, before insisting that it all comes down to leadership at the end of the day. Jack is a good disciplinarian, sure, and he’s been here for years… but then how come this keeps happening? In his opinion, Jack just isn’t built for an environment like this. The arts are about creativity, inspiration, hopeful encouragement and emotional exploration… not rules, strict academics, and going by the book.

Jack is pissed, but he’s not going to make a scene. It’s nothing he’s never heard before anyway, least of all from his best counselor but least favorite co-worker. He turns the other way, marching back to his office.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

That night, Riley has dinner with her family. It is clear through this scene that things between Cory and Topanga are not as rosy as America’s sweethearts would have you believe. They’re snippy with one another, and it seems like problems are brewing on the horizon.

Riley mentions her struggle to pick her audition song, and the strong personalities already at play at school. Topanga instructs her with the realist approach, which is that she’ll then need to bring her best as well. What power ballads does Riley have in her repertoire? She can’t let those other students walk all over her -- they don’t want a repeat of last year.

No kidding, Topie. Although it’s well-intentioned advice, it doesn’t seem like what Riley wants to hear. She nods along, focusing back on her food.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

In a parallel setting, Jack is having a small casual dinner with his half-brother, Shawn. Although his first impression at school wasn’t much, it’s clear that Shawn isn’t the worst guy in the world. He and Jack definitely seem to have a good relationship, this family dinner a weekly tradition for them.

And Shawn can tell when Jack is burying emotions. He prompts him to spill about whatever pissed him off that day -- aside from the obvious. Is there other beef going on in the school? Anything interesting? Jack avoids it at first, but when Shawn won’t let it go, he cracks.

Jack: Actually, people had some choice things to say about you. Showing up late, again? On the first day?

Shawn’s upbeat demeanor crumbles fast, defaulting to defensive. He quickly susses out that it must have been Angela who complained, claiming that of course she’s going to rag on him. She’s biased, Jack, you know that. She’s been out to get him ever since… well, things fell apart. Of course she wouldn’t want to see him trying to pick himself back up -- imperfectly, sure, but…

Jack shakes his head, getting up from his seat and taking his plate to the sink. Shawn keeps trying to defend himself, saying it’s all Angela’s fault, that everyone is just overreacting, who cares what they think --

Jack: I do, Shawn! I have to care what they think. It’s my job!

Oh. Well… that’s another story. This gets Jack to the actual root of what he’s frustrated with -- Eric’s criticism of him, and the way no one is ever happy with him at AAA. They all think the job is so simple, so easy. File some paperwork, discipline a kid when necessary, keep things in order. But that’s harder than it sounds. Of course Eric thinks he has it all figured out -- he’s the good guy. He gets to be the faculty favorite, telling the kids exactly what they want to hear, while Jack has to be the realist. He has to deliver the hard truths, the punishments and probabilities, to step in to keep things in order even when it feels like everything is constantly in chaos.

And honestly, Shawn is not helping with that. It’s way easier for people to question Jack’s leadership, his strong stances, his ability to keep things in line, when his “nepotism hire” can’t even show up for work on time. Shawn still tries to defend himself, but his arguments are becoming more sheepish as they go. It’s hard to argue against something that’s objectively true.

Jack: I’m not asking you to do my job. It’s my shit, and I’ll deal with it. I always do. But I’m bending over backwards for you, and you have to meet me in the middle.

Shawn: I know… I know, I’m --

Jack: I gave you this job as a fresh start, Shawn. Because I believed you could pull things back together, that you didn’t have to keep going down the road you were on. I still do believe that. But you have to prove me right, you have to show up.

Shawn: Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.

Jack: Not even just for me. You have to show up for them. You think Friar would be going around doing this shit if he had even a little more discipline within the school day? The sense that someone else is looking out for him? You know that’s absent from every other part of his life. And all of them have their own shit. You know what that’s like -- we went through it ourselves.

Shawn: … that’s true. I --

Jack, exasperated: They’re what matters, Shawn. Forget the politics, forget the petty drama. With Angela, with Eric. Whatever. What matters are the students. We show up for them. Even if everything else is in chaos.

If anything, the exchange at least highlights why Jack is at AAA. All the criticism that gets hurled at him, all the hard choices he has to make, at the end of the day he’s doing his best. He’s there to help the students, to give them an education and foundation for the rest of their lives. One, seemingly, he wishes he had for himself.

Shawn is certainly reprimanded enough. He agrees with Jack, apologizing again and thanking him for giving him the opportunity. He knows what Jack had to risk to do it. He’s going to try not to squander it -- not to mess everything up again.

Like everything else, all Jack can do is hope for the best. He nods, taking Shawn’s dish and focusing on washing them in the sink instead of facing more of the conversation. As impassioned as the outburst was, it’s clear emotion is not Jack’s strong suit.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Cory comes in to say goodnight to Riley and congratulate her on her first day. She is more open with how she actually feels about it with him than Topanga and Auggie, expressing that she doesn’t know what to do about the song. Cory gives her advice from his heart, which is that she should kick things off singing whatever makes her feel most comfortable. Something that feels like her. She shouldn’t have to change herself just to make an impression.

During this conversation, we also learn the real truth as to why Riley is attending this school now -- yes, because of her own passions, but more so because she was bullied at her former school. This is her fresh start.

She gives Cory a hug and then he kisses her forehead, bidding her goodnight. As Riley crawls into bed, she’s back to staring at the ceiling. Thinking, contemplating… as the piano opening of “Your Song” floats in…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Your Song” as performed by Ellie Goulding || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley keeps it simple with a soft, sweet rendition. No grand fanfare, no brassy vocals, just her sitting on a stool and singing the song. Her vocals are beautiful, but certainly not as loud as Farkle or Maya.

Angela smiles pleasantly as Riley performs. Zay watches with a smile, giving her a little thumbs up when she looks to him. Charlie obviously enjoys the performance, intrigued. Maya and Farkle look unimpressed, almost amused. At least she’s not a threat.

Most of the techies don’t pay attention or look bored. Lucas looks particularly neutral… and yet, he’s not letting his attention drift anywhere else…

A smattering of applause follow her performance. As the class is dismissed, Charlie takes the initiative to approach her and tell her that he really liked the performance. Riley, a bit flustered by the attention, is like thanks okay sure. It’s still unclear whether Charlie is flirting, or if he genuinely did just like the song…

As Riley hustles to pack up, most everybody gone, suddenly it’s just her and Lucas left in the auditorium. She glances to him, uncertain whether she should say something -- she’s supposed to be making friends, after all. But she can’t bring herself to do it. He does it instead, however, muttering an offhand comment as he heads up the back steps towards the technician’s booth.

Lucas: So exciting to see we’ve got another unassuming chorus member.

Riley doesn’t get the chance to respond, but the statement makes its impact. He’s not impressed, and she gets the feeling no one else really was either.

A little funny, coming from him considering he didn’t even perform, but if she wants to make her mark here she’s going to have to bring her A game. Maybe her mother was right -- she’s going to have to be a little bolder if she wants to hold her own.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Farkle is outside the dressing rooms, writing down notes in a journal as Maya emerges from the girls room. She says something snarky to Farkle, prompting banter between the two of them.

Farkle: Oh, yes, I was just compiling a list of all the things I’m going to rightfully accomplish this year. Winter showcase closing number, Haverford conference representative, oh, and that coveted summer spot at the Kossal camp for the rising junior class --

Maya: Oh, is daddy going to buy it for you? Think he could buy you some friends first…

The two of them stare each other down, both of them clearly meaning business and full of diva ire. It’s clear that this year is going to be a bloody battle between the two of them for top spot.

And may the best bitch win.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is back to feeling uncertain, her “authentic” performance not having accomplished much. Then, she supposes, it’s not clear how authentic it really was… it was certainly the safe option, at least. But everyone else around her is so loud, so bold, so ready to scrap to the death… and she doesn’t know if that’s her. Maybe she doesn’t have what it takes.

The promotional video certainly is a testament to expectations versus reality. Highly skilled faculty… the polished and put together exterior… camaraderie and a bond with classmates for life… right now, they seemed destined to kill one another.

Thoughtful, Riley pulls up her tablet and searches for the promotional video again. She skims through it, searching for parts of Jack’s speech near the end.

Jack, voiceover: The competition is fierce, and the process isn’t easy.

INT. AAA - FRONT OFFICE - DAY

Eric is in the main office, chatting with the secretaries and easily charming them. Jack emerges from his office with more paperwork, catching his eye as he goes. The two of them hold each other’s gaze for a moment, that animosity still between them.

Jack: It’s work, hard work, but any passion worth pursuing takes a little faith and a whole lot of elbow grease.

Jack keeps his chin held high -- it is his office, after all. He gives Eric a cordial nod, heading back into his office. Back to do the work that matters, to the best of his ability.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is assembled throughout the stage, all in their rehearsal clothes. Simple leotards, sweats, no one more glamorous than the other. There for the work, there for the challenge and the practice and the opportunities.

Jack: The best of the best make their way to Adams, and without a doubt, the best emerge from it ready to take on the world.

Maya, Farkle, and Zay all rise from stretching at the same time, eyeing each other. Maya takes a pointed sip of her water bottle, turning away with a hair flip.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Riley is enthralled with the video, deep in thought. Jack’s words are resonating with her, leaving their impact.

Jack: The question is, where do the best of the best come from? Who has what it takes to join our elite and excellent rank of future artists? Do you?

That is the question, indeed. Riley glances up, determination in her glare as she looks towards the camera. Guess we’re going to find out!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One (Reprise) / Finale” as performed by A Chorus Line Original Broadway Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

This classic intense theater kid song takes us through the end of the episode, following each of our main characters through their morning routine at the start of the next day during the first half of the number. This gives us a little bit of insight into what might be going on in their lives beyond what we’ve seen displayed thus far…

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

Maya is in her small, falling apart apartment, kissing her stressed mom on the cheek as she goes out despite how well dressed she is. Talk about expectation versus reality -- she is obviously on the poverty line. Her outward appearance is in complete contrast to the world she’s actually living in every evening.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

Zay is gathering all his dance things together, getting pats and kisses from his parents as he dashes out the door. He almost drops his ballet shoe, but his mother catches it and gives it to him, clearly showing he’s a little more scattered than he puts off.

INT. GARDNER HOME - DAY

Charlie is getting ready for the day, dancing around a house full of sisters. He’s fighting for the bathroom just as a younger sister dashes inside, forcing him to run downstairs and get ready to go anyway. His mother licks her thumb and wipes a smudge from his cheek, as his father gives him a proud nod and sees him on his way.

The crucifix adorning the wall by the front door gives us the hint that this family is devout, to some degree. How much so, and whether that matters, only time will tell...

INT. FOSTER HOME - DAY

Isadora is eating breakfast in a crowded kitchen, trying to avoid bumping into a gaggle of siblings of all races and ages. She is a foster child, crammed in a fancy house with about twelve other children. Nice accommodations, and yet still not quite a home.

It’s obviously not the most ideal environment for her. She heads out the door as fast as she can.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is already at school early in the morning, in the technician’s booth where Riley left him last. He finishes pulling a black long sleeve shirt over his head, collapsing into the rolling chair and propping his feet up on the lightning board table. He starts flossing his teeth, treating the space like his own rather than school property.

One has to wonder… did he even go home? Is there a home to go to? What’s going on here…

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Farkle, lavish and spoiled in a clearly wealthy home, is practicing his stage smile in the mirror. Totally straight-faced, then BAM! Full bright, stage presence grin. Over and over again. Obsessively adjusting his hair. Every polished piece in place. A constant performance…

EXT. AAA - DAY

As the trumpets swell before the final chorus, Riley arrives outside AAA again. She’s ready for her second go. Having what it takes.

She steadies her shoulders, then jogs up the steps towards the school.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Bam! As we enter into the final minute of the performance, Riley spins and the spotlight hits her. The full sophomore A class performers are up on stage, running through the show-stopping number. She’s keeping up -- barely, but she is. And that’s a start.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

From the booth, Shawn, Isadora, and Lucas run the lights and sound levels. Watching the performance critically from a world away…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the back row of the center section, Jack sits and watches the performance. Taking a moment out of his hectic schedule to settle in and appreciate what they’re doing there, watching the future artists take the foundation and flourish. He smiles, in spite of it all, reminding himself what really matters.

The kids give it their all, ending the number with a flourish. The lights are bright, Riley is alive with the energy of a good performance.

Welcome to Adams, indeed. This is it!

END OF PILOT.

#S1 #101 #episodes #s3 countdown #S1 reread #AMBITION REREAD AND REVAMPED LETS GOOOO #AAA WARRIORS ARE WE READY #🎉🎉🎉

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qb-sam-evans-blog · 5 years

Text

Forward in Time|| Samcedes

Who: Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones @mercedesaevans

Where: Sam and Mercedes duplex, and their new house

When: June 1,2019

What: Sam wakes up and finds himself in five years in the future.

Sam

After a wild night the night before, Sam was expecting to sleep well past noon. What he didn't expect was to be pounced on early in the morning, when he lived by himself. He jumped up and was shocked to see a little boy with tan skin and black curls. Before he could ask where the boy's parents were or what he was doing here, the little boy spoke. "Daddy! Wake up!" Now Sam knew he must have had the biggest hangover in history, because this little boy just called him daddy, and he knew he was no one's daddy. Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eye and tried to blink himself awake, but the boy was still there. And when he glanced around at his surroundings, he didn't recognize the room he was in. Sam had to be dreaming but he didn't know how to wake up from it.

Mercy

Mercedes had gotten up early to make Sam breakfast, he was in shock last night when she told him about the twins, but it was a good shock. She had just placed the plate onto the tray when she noticed that Cameron was nowhere to be found. She knew exactly where he was, where he always was. Putting the orange juice on the tray, she walks up the stairs of their duplex and shook her head as she opened the door. "Cameron Logan Evans I told you about jumping on your father." She said with a smile on her face. "But its morning." She smirked at him. "Ning baby not ting, But still I told you to wait for mommy. " Going over to the bed she placed the tray of French Toast, Bacon, Eggs and Orange Juice in front of Sam. Leaning over she kissed Sam before pulling back and smoothing down the pink baby doll dress she wore and the matching robe that wasn't tied. "Morning babe."

Sam

Sam knew he must have entered the twilight zone when a woman, who looked like Mercedes Jones came into the room with a tray of food and kissed him. But her confirming that this little boy Cameron was his son made him jump off the bed, carefully so he didn't drop the food. "What's going on here? Where am I, and why did you call me his father?" Sam looked bewildered. If this was a dream, waking up now would be paramount. "Why can't I wake up? Did I entered some alternate reality or something?" Sam needed answers, but he didn't know if he would get them anytime soon.

Mercy

It wasn't until she stopped talking did she finally see Sam's face. "Sam?" She said as he hopped off the bed and Cameron moved over to her arms. "What are you talking about?" She kissed Cameron's forehead as he grabbed a piece of bacon and placed him on the pillow as she stood up. "Sam you are awake. What's going on with you this morning? Are you freaking out because of last night? I know it a lot to take in but I mean we always talked about more kids, you said you were happy about it."

Sam

More kids? At that moment, he took a good look at Cameron and saw the resemblance. But this couldn't be true. He didn't have any kids, and last he checked, he wasn't married. But the shiny ring or his left ring finger told him a different story. "We're married? And expecting more kids?" Sam thought someone must have slipped something in his drink the night before. ""I don't get it. Every time I asked you out you turned me down, and now we're married with a son and expecting another child? How does that happen in less than 24 hours?"

Mercy

Her eyes follow his to Cameron and it was like he was seeing the little boy for the first time. She placed her hair behind her ears walking closer to him. "Sam, what's wrong baby? You are starting to scare me." He asked his question and she smiled shaking her head. "How many times did you get sacked this season Sam? And hit your head? Yeah a few years ago I wasn't interested, but you convinced me to take a chance on you." this was starting to scare her because the longer she waited for him to say "gotcha" the more fearful she became.

Sam

"Years?" This couldn't be right, but he saw the fearfulness in Mercedes eyes and didn't want to alarm her though he was pretty alarmed himself. He figured maybe he should play along and get some information out of her and then he would wake up from this dream. "Oh, it seemed like it was just yesterday that we were at a bar and I asked you to take a chance on me and go on one little date, and you turned me down because of my reputation. I bet you can't remember how many years went by since." Sam hoped that he was being subtle and she would fill in the blanks for him.

Mercy

Mercedes gave a little sigh of relief as he spoke. She looked back at Cam and then to Sam as she sat on the bed in front of him. "Oh trust me I remember. Five years and some odd number of days ago I, after some clever maneuvering by you, agreed to go on one date with you. I say one because I was very clear about that. And yet, you surprised me. Enough to get two and three and eventually get me to say yes to marriage. It's like I told you on our Anniversary, which thanks to your ability to charm me right out of my clothes probably led to these two little buns in my oven, it was the best decision of my life."

Sam

Five years of his life that he has no recollection of. But the look of pure love in Mercedes eyes as she talked about their history of him asking her out and she turned him down made him want to believe that this was his life. The fact that he didn't remember their first date, or the day they got married, or her giving birth to their son, made him feel horrible. So horrible that he didn't notice his eyes filling up with tears until one lone tear fell out. He quickly wiped it away. "So we are expecting twins?" God, why couldn't he remember? "Mercedes I just think I had a bit too much to drink last night, so a lot of things are a little fuzzy. I don't mean to alarm you or Cameron."

Mercy

She could see the look of surprise on his face. Like he was hearing all of this for the first time. When she watched him wipe away a tear that is when the real fear kicked in, Sam didn't just cry he wasn't that type of guy. And that's when she heard it, he called her Mercedes. It had been years since he used her full name. And he hardly ever called Cam, Cameron. "You didn't drink last night." She said slowly rising from the bed. "You haven't really drunk since you and B went on that bender a few months back to celebrate him being nominated for a Tony..." Her voice trailed off was this a body snatcher situation? Damn him for making her watch that movie with him!

Sam

"That also surprised him. He didn't drink? Since when? He was sure he was at a bar last night. "Blaine was nominated for a Tony?" He saw the panicked look in her eyes and hated that he was causing so much confusion. "You know, I'm probably reeling from a dream I had last night. Let's just eat breakfast before it gets too cold. Seems like Cameron has the right idea." He said looking at his son munching on a piece of toast. Sam reached over and ruffled his hair, the movement looking awkward because Sam didn't know how to act around him. "So Mercedes, you cooked this? It looks really good." He sat back down on the bed trying to act natural and begin to eat some of the food. "What's on the agenda today?" Sam didn't know what he normally did as a husband and father, but he would try to let his dream play out.

Mercy

This was getting weird, and the more he tried to pretend that it wasn't made things more awkward. She watched him with Cameron and if nothing else told her that he wasn't her husband, that did. He was the most attentive and active father to Cam, and that awkward little hair ruffle was not Sam. "Sam, what's going? Are you trying to get back at me by pretending that you have no idea what is going on because you are really scaring me? " And she was scared. This was her fear that one day he would wake up realizing that being a husband and a father was too much. Before she could say anything else, she heard the door open and someone yells "Hello" turning to the doorway she smiled seeing Stacey walk into the room. "Where's Auntie's favorite boy?" Cameron jumped up excitedly. "Here! Stacey!" Mercedes glanced at the younger girl and back at Sam before she turned her attention to Stacey. "Hey, Stace." "Hey Merce, Whoa Sammy, put a shirt on! Nobody wants to see your dad bod." she teased looking at Merce. "Or like he says ‘Rad’ bod."

Sam

"Get back at you? No Mercedes. It's just that I had a really freaky dream and I'm probably just reeling from that." Sam didn't feel good about lying to her at all, but he didn't know how to explain it. before he could finish his thought, he heard the very familiar sound of his sister coming through the door and walking into their bedroom. She looked exactly the same and he was relieved to see her. He watched her interact with Mercedes and Cameron and thought she seemed really natural with them. As if she does this on the regular. He glanced down at his body, and then playfully rolled his eyes at her. "Well, this is my room that you just walked in. If you want me to cover up, all you have to do is knock." For some reason interacting with Stacy was easy. It reminded him of when they were younger teasing each other while their parents looked on fondly. "Anyway, Stace, does anything look out of the ordinary to you?"

Mercy

He was lying, she could always tell, and it wasn't even good lying at that. As he and Stacey interacted she knew it had to be her. She had to be the cause of Sam acting this way. Stacey held onto Cameron and stuck her tongue out at Sam. At his question, she looked at the room and with a serious note in her voice she nodded. "Wait... yeah Sam something is seriously out of the ordinary." She nodded towards the tray. "That plate still has food on it. God knows the only cooking you love more than Mercedes, is mom's." Mercedes looked at Stacey and smiled. "Yes, and I have come to be okay with that. Your mom can throw down."

Sam

Sam chuckled at his sister's joke and sat back down to eat what was left on his plate though it wasn't as hot. And Stacey was right, the breakfast was heavenly. "This does taste delicious Mercedes." It felt weird being so formal with her when Stacey was so casual. He couldn't believe this was his life now. He pinched himself a few times, to see if he would wake up, but all that did was leave a few bruises. "Anyway, Stace, why are you here so early? Not that I’m complaining, but you've never been a morning person."

Mercy

As Sam sat down to eat, Stacey looked at Mercedes. "Is he okay? He keeps calling you Mercedes." Stacey whispered. Mercedes sighed shaking her head. "TBD Stace." Mercedes leaned in to kiss Cameron's forehead while he was still in Stacey's arms. Hearing Sam's question Stacey smiled. "I am picking up Cammy Cam for Mom, she and dad are watching him for you guys remember?" Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "Speaking of, let me go grab his stuff. Cam come with me so we can grab the rest of your things. We will return." She said leaving Sam and Stacey alone.

Sam

"Watching him for us? Where are we going?" Sam was still confused about everything and when Cameron and Mercedes left the room, he turned to Stacy hoping that maybe she knew what was going on. "So something weird is going on? This isn't my life. This is either a very elaborate dream, that I can't wake up from, or I'm living someone else's life." Sam knows he probably makes no sense, but it baffles him. "I remember nothing from the last five years. The last thing I remember was that I was a bachelor, with no child. I have no idea how I ended up here." He looked at Stace, with pleading eyes. "You have to help me figure this thing out."

Mercy

Stacey raised an eyebrow. "You asked mom and dad to watch him so you could surprise Mercedes..." She looked at him seeing the confused look on his face. "With the new house... Sam come on how are you not remembering something you were excited about?" Sam began to speak and she sat down on the bed staring at him. "Sam? What are you talking about? How hung over are you? Are you- are you changing your mind about all this? I mean I am not shocked we all thought you would die a bachelor but when you married Mercedes I thought you changed."

Sam

"A house? This is what I'm trying to tell you, I don't remember the last five years. And why are you asking me if I changed my mind? Why would I wait five years and a son later to change my mind? And why am I buying a house? This one seems pretty great and spacious?" Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "Just forget it. You can't help me, and it seems that you only have a one-track mind. I'll figure it out myself."

Mercy

Stacey frowned. "You and Mercedes wanted a house with a backyard...you are serious, you don't remember anything do you? Not the marriage, Cam's birth...that's why you keep calling Merce, Mercedes." She took his hand. "You need to tell Mercedes."

Sam

"I can't tell her. Just because my whole world is turned upside down, I'm not going to do the same thing to her and Cameron." Sam shook his head wishing that this was a dream so he didn't disappoint anyone. "Anyway, do you know where this house is because I'm at a complete loss."

Mercy

Stacey frowned. "Sam, she is your wife, she is gonna know something is wrong. And Cam, he's a great little boy. You do know who he is named after right?" She took his hand. "Tell her, she may react to it in some way but she will help you." Stacey shook her head. "All I know is its a house on Cedar... big back yard, all that good stuff. Sorry, I can't be more help. Mom might." Mercedes walked back in the room carrying Cameron. "We are all ready to go! I have his change of clothes and Captain America Pillow that he can't be without. Not that he needs it."(edited)

Sam

Sam shook his head. "I'm not telling her Stace. I'll figure out where this house is, and take her to go see it, but I'm not going to ruin her day by telling her that I don't remember her or Cameron. Maybe you can give me some inside information on how I react towards her and Cameron. Like maybe little things that I do that is specifically Sam."

Mercy

Stacey sighed, she didn't want to fool Mercedes but if Sam wasn't going to say anything, she knew she couldn't. "Stop calling her Mercedes, you don't do that. You were scared shitless when you learned about Cam but when you saw the sonogram for the first time you just knew everything was going to be alright." She heard Mercedes walking towards them and stood. "You love your family, when you got married you said that the first time you saw her, you just knew. " Stacey gave Sam a reassuring smile when Mercedes and Cameron were fully in the room. Mercedes placed Cameron on the bed. "Give daddy a big kiss so you can go with Aunt Stacey." Cameron nodded jumping at the chance to pounce on his dad.

Sam

Calling her anything but Mercedes would feel weird, but he would try. "What do I normally call her? Mercy, Merce, Cedes? Maybe I'll just stick to baby or love." Hearing about seeing his son's first sonogram hurt him because he didn't remember. He would have to learn how to be a dad all over again and hopefully in time for when the twins will be born. "Thanks, Stace, I will do my best to do right by her." Sam knew that when he first saw Mercedes, he wanted to propose on the spot. He remembered that feeling of butterflies and goosebumps. He just had to channel that. It seemed like he did alright, marrying the one person he saw himself settling down with. When Mercedes came back in, Sam smiled softly at her, but that was short-lived as Cameron jumped on him again. "Woah, buddy. Are you always that energetic?" He said teasing the little boy. Sam gave him a hug and kissed his forehead. "Daddy loves you. You be good to your Aunt Stacy okay?" Sam walked over to Mercedes, wrapped one arm around her waist, and pulled her to his side, before giving her a kiss quick kiss on the lips. "I'm going to head to the shower." He gave Stacy a kiss on the cheek before heading to the master bathroom.

Mercy

Cameron jumped and laughed kissing Sam then running into Mercedes' arms. Kissing the boy softly, she handed him to Stacey and was surprised by Dam coming and wrapping an arm around her waist. After he kissed her and said goodbye to Stacey, Mercedes looked at the younger girl and raised an eyebrow. "Is he okay Stace? I would never ask you to break that sibling bond so just tell me." Stacey sighed. "He's okay," she said hoping this was just a temporary thing. She would have her dad call him though. Walking Stacey and Cameron to the door, Mercedes kissed the boy once more and hugged them both before shutting the door. Hearing the shower running she made her way to the bathroom and opened the door, walking in. Without another word, she undressed and walked into their spacious shower wrapping her arms around Sam's waist. "Time to "conserve water," as you say." she teased.

Sam

Kissing Cam, and Mercedes felt so natural to him, and that confused Sam even more. Why did it feel natural when he didn't remember anything for the last five years. He probably should consider himself lucky that he married Mercedes, because he remembers when he first saw her, he fell for her almost immediately. He remembered wanting to get to know her and to take her. He remembered telling his friends that he would marry her one day. And though he really believed those words, he is shocked that this is his life. He hates that he can't remember what she looked like coming down the aisle, or how their first date was. Not remembering Cameron's birth also hurt him. Those are memories that he won't be able to retrieve. And Sam still wants to know why things turned out this way. He was Sam was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't realize that he wasn't alone in the bathroom anymore. It wasn't until Mercedes stepped in and wrap her arms around him. He jumped, startled, before grabbing his towel wrapping it around his waist, not caring that the towel was getting soaked. "Mercedes! Uh, this is sweet, but I kinda wanted to be alone in the shower to work through some things." He hoped she understood. He just didn't think he could have sex with her without her knowing something was up. It felt wrong to him. This wasn't his life. He wasn't her Sam.

Mercy

If Mercedes didn't know something was wrong, she knew now. Sam's appetite was insatiable and he turned her down, turned her down in such a way that it scared her. "Oh umm yeah, of course, I understand." She said grabbing g her own towel and opening the shower door. Was it her? Did he not want her? Old insecurities popped in her mind and she tried to shake it off. One bad morning couldn’t ruin 5 years of Marriage. "I'll just leave you to your thoughts." She said trying to hide the hurt.

Sam

Sam instantly felt bad. He wanted to apologize her to her, but he didn't. He didn't want it to turn into makeup sex. He felt that if he had sex with her, then the real Sam will probably find out and it would just cause problems. So instead he finished his shower, and brushed his teeth, before making his way to the bathroom. Once in the room, he looked around to see where his clothes could be, and figured that it would be in the closet. When he opened the closet, he grabbed one of the many Henly shirts, and a pair of jeans before going through some drawers to find his boxers. He walked into the room to get dress but kept his towel on until the last possible moment. He didn't need to flash Mercedes after what happened in the bathroom.

Mercy

She had showered in Cameron's bathroom and quickly gotten dressed into a pair of hi hugging Jean's and lavender of the shoulder short with a black tank top under it. Throwing her hair into. Messy bun she grabbed the tray and went to the kitchen, cleaning breakfast up and realizing she hadn't eaten, her appetite gone now, she just wanted her husband to tell her what was wrong. Shooting Bas a quick text, maybe even though he and B were in Paris, B could call and talk to Sam.

Sam

Once Sam was ready and dressed, he realized that he had no idea where this house was that he brought for them. He couldn't ask Mercedes, because she wouldn't know since it was a surprise. And Stacey already said she didn't know. So he looked through his phone at emails and text messages until he found the paperwork that was emailed to him. He put the address in his maps apps on his phone, and head to the kitchen where Mercedes was. "So, are you ready? I don't know how long my parents have the kid, so we should get going."

Mercy

Mercedes was deep I thought when Sam came in. She shook her head. "Overnight, though I am gonna call them and let them know it's not necessary." She walked past Sam. "Not really in the going out mood, sure you can relate. So I'm just gonna go lay down or something." Something was wrong with her husband, maybe this was the beginning g of the end.

Sam

"What? Why? You were excited to go out earlier and now all of a sudden you're not?" Sam didn't know what he normally did to put a smile on her face or to make her feel good. This was like learning everything all over again. Maybe seeing the new house will put a smile on her face. "Come on, just come out with me. I bet it will make you feel better."

Mercy

She looked at him. "Sam, I'm not stupid, I know something is wrong, and if it's me or the twins, Cam? Just tell me. Please, because you are pulling away from me."

Sam

He didn't know what to say or if she would be able to handle the truth. He didn't want to hurt her more than she was. "Babe, it's nothing. I told you I had a bad dream and was a little shaken up. Everything is fine. Can we please go?"

Mercy

Mercedes stared at him for a moment, something was still off, but she was learning to accept that something she just couldn't control. "Okay." She said softly, he was acting very weird but maybe it was the whole bad dream thing. She grabbed her purse and keys walking to the front door. "Still not telling me where we are going? She asked trying to change the subject.

Sam

Sam was relieved that she changed her mind about going out. Now he can show her the house, which would be a surprise to both of them. Sam saw Mercedes grab her keys off of the hook, and saw a pair of keys next to it and assumed it was his and grabbed it. As they walked out of their duplex, Sam saw a few cars in the driveway and had no idea which was his. Last he checked, he drove a regular Toyota. Now he sees a few Luxury cars that baffled him. So Sam hit the unlock on his keys to see which car chirped, and saw that it was the white Range Rover. That shocked the hell out of Sam. He walked over and opened the door for Mercedes, and waited until she was in to walk over to the driver's side. "Nope, not telling you... in face put this on." He handed her a black eye mask to cover her eyes with.

Mercy

Mercedes was deep in thought all the way down to the cars, she tried to clear her mind, not focus on what happened that morning but that her husband had surprised her with something and she truly wanted to know what it was. Sam had been tight-lipped about it all week. She glanced at the mask and smiled. "God the last time you made me wear this we ended in the back seat of this Range Rover," she said taking it. "If I get sick because of this don't blame me." She said smiling towards him, placing the mask on her eyes she leaned back and decided to just close her eyes and relax on the car ride.

Sam

Sam didn't know what events led them to get it on in the back of a car, but he found that to be a bit amusing. "Babe, if you feel sick, tell me and I'll pull over because throwing up in this car won't be fun for either of us." He put on some music, and just drove the 30 minutes that the GPS said it would take to get to the new house. Sam was curious as to what the house would look like. Actually, he was curious about a lot of things. He knew he was back up quarterback, but how would he afford a Range Rover, and their duplex and Sam was sure that Mercedes had a nice car also. Maybe her singing took off and paid for everything. He wouldn't be surprised at that. Twenty-five minutes later, Sam was shocked into slowing down. He couldn't believe this was the place. Maybe he put the wrong address in. Sam took out his phone and double checked the email. How did he afford this place? It was way bigger than any house he's ever been in. And why do they need such a big house for the three of them? "Uh, babe, don't take the blindfold off yet. I have to check something." Not believing that this was now theirs, he got out of his car, and walked up to the front door and opened it. It was locked. He checked his email again and it said something about him picking up the keys. He looked at his key chain and saw a set of keys that looked fairly new. He used that key, and voila, the door opened. Still not believing that this was their's he went back to the car and opened Mercedes door. "Uh, you can take off the blindfold now."(edited)

Mercy

Mercedes sighed getting comfortable and when he started to drive she could feel herself falling asleep due to the darkness. All too soon she was awoken by Sam stopping the car. She stretched out as far as she could and waited for the okay to remove that mask. When she did she stepped out the car, mouth agape. No, he didn't. "Sam?" She walked towards him seeing the keys and shook her head still in disbelief. "You bought it? You actually bought it?" She smiled moving closer to him. "I love you, and I love this house. She pulled him into the house and they stood in the foyer. "I can't believe you snuck back here and bought this. When we looked at it a few weeks ago, we saw everything. Our growing family, a place for your parents to stay, a gym for you, studio for me and everything. And I know you are right, this is the kind of house that a Grammy Winning Artist has, a Diva who rocked her world tour while pregnant and still made it back to watch you lead the Giants to the Superbowl. This is the type of house the Starting Quarterback has, but are you sure you are okay with this? We can go simple you know me as long as I have you and our kids I am good with anything?" She wanted the house, she loved the house but she wanted him to be sure.

Sam

Sam smiled at how happy she was. Seeing her big smile made his stomach flip. He didn't know why, but he loved making her happy. He wondered if the real Sam did this because he knew it would put a smile on her face. Still, as she begins talking about being a Grammy Award Winning Artist. When they meant, she was an up and coming star, but it seems like she blew passed that title. He almost choked on his saliva at her star quarterback comment. "Star Quarterback? What happened to Eli?" And did she just say that he led the Giants to a Superbowl win? This was everything he wanted and it would be so cruel to wake up just to find out this was a joke. "This is your dream home, and I think it's perfect for growing our family. And besides, I already paid a million for it, so it's kind of too late to go back on it." He joked. "This is the house that lil Cameron and the twins will grow up in. The schools are great, we aren't surrounded by neighbors. It's perfect." And at the moment, it wasn't just empty words. (edited)

Mercy

Mercedes looked at Sam. "Eli retired like three years ago, and you stepped up and signed an amazing 5-year contract. You are the man as your teammates call you." The surprised look on his face worried her. She smiled. "This is my dream home Sam, but that also means we are gonna have to hire staff. At least a maid and you know how I feel about that, I don't even like it that Bruno has to drive me places when I am not with you." She walked around but stopped at his joke. "I mean you did pay for it." She smiled. He mentioned this was the perfect house and she nodded walking into his arms. "It is perfect," she said reaching up and kissing him.

Sam

"Eli retired?" Sam said in confusion, and then at the worried look on Mercedes' face, he played it off. "Yea, of course, he did... sometimes it just seemed liked it was yesterday that he was playing with us." Sam hoped she believed the lie that slipped out of his mouth. "A maid? Can we afford that? Just exactly how much was this five-year contract worth?" Sam should ask to see their bank statement so he can see exactly how much money they had.

Mercy

Mercedes nodded. "Right." She pushed her thoughts out of her head, he was fine, this was fine. He asked if they could afford it and she laughed. "Sam, considering you signed an 80 million dollar contract, even if I wasn't a very successful Singer and Actress we could afford it." She sighed turning towards him. "This is everything Sam...thank you. Thank you!" She said kissing him again.

Sam

Sam's eyes widen at the 80 million dollar contract remark. He couldn't believe that was how much he made. "You're an actress also? Is there anything you can't do?" Sam wondered if he had seen any of her movies. His thoughts turned to mush when she kissed. He knew he shouldn't enjoy it since this isn't real, but kissing her makes him feel safe. Like everything will be alright. He needed to believe that. So he laid his hands on her hips, and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. "We're something special huh?"

Mercy

"It was you who told me I should take that role, you know I wanted to work with Tyler Perry." She said with a smiled. When Sam kissed her back and pulled her close she melted against him. "Yeah we are something very special," she said wrapping her arms around him. "Have I told you how much I love you? Cause I do." She stood on her tippy toes, kissing him again. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss.

Sam

"I'm glad your dreams are coming true. I'm sure that no one is more deserving than you." Sam smiled when she told him that she loved him. He wanted to tell her back, but that wasn't his place. Besides, he barely knows her. And though he was enjoying kissing her, maybe a little too much, he didn't want to lead her on. Especially since he knew that this life was just temporary. He gently pulled away from her. "Let's check out the rest of the house and see how you're going to decorate it. Then we can pick Cameron and take him out for ice cream or something."

Mercy

Mercedes didn't get it, one minute he was Sam, her Sam and the next he was pulling away like they were in high school about to get caught. Just like earlier, she frowned. It had to be her. He was giving up a night with her alone to pick up Cam early? There was something definitely wrong here. "Yeah sure," she said walking away from him.

Sam

Sam deflated. For having only found out this morning he was married, he could tell when Mercedes wasn't happy with him. He hated that feeling. He hated disappointing her. "Baby, what's wrong? You were so happy a few minutes ago, and now you're upset and I hate seeing you like that. So why the change in mood?"

Mercy

Mercedes turned to him and sighed. "Sam I just, is it me? Are you just not attracted to me today? Because the last time we came and toured this house we broke in the bathroom. Hell, last night you couldn't stop talking about what would happen once Cam was with your parents but today you just don't seem to want me so I can take it is it me?"

Sam

"What? No, Merce, you're gorgeous." Sam didn't know anything about their sex life, but according to Mercedes, it seemed like he couldn't keep his hands off her. And he can see why. It's a struggle for him to remember that this isn't real. "I just thought we can spend some family time together. Spoil Cameron a bit because once the twins come, he may begin to feel left out. But if you want us to have some alone time tonight, then that's what we'll do." He didn't know how he would avoid sex with her, but he couldn't stand the disappointed look on her face, and he didn't want her to think it was her fault.

Mercy

Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "I'm sorry Sam, its these hormones I am all over the place you know and feeling insecure and whatnot." She wiped her eyes. "I know it sounds stupid but like sometimes I just feel bad..." She glanced up to him. "I love that you want family time with Cam and we can, your parents will be disappointed though, they were taking him to the Zoo and somewhere else. They love having him." She turned towards the kitchen. "Holiday's are gonna be so amazing in here. And look at this counter space!"

Sam

"No, I'm sorry. We'll let Cam have fun with his grandparents and we'll pick him up tomorrow." Sam didn't want to cut his parent's time with their only grandson. He knows that this is everything his mother wanted. She always wanted him to settle down with a nice woman and give her grandbabies. Sam looked at the kitchen and thought it was too huge for just the three of them. "Yea holidays will be awesome, but when it's just us three, won't it feel a bit overwhelming?"

Mercy

Mercedes smiled running her hands over the granite counters. "Its okay Sam I get it, I know I have been more...insatiable lately too. It's like I know with Cam I was hungry for you a lot but this time its all the time, I look at you, and I just..." she shook off her head and turned towards the oven. "No it's not too big, with your family and mines, our house was never big enough for all of us but this, shoot my brothers and their family can actually stay with us." She moved over to Sam. "Tell me what you are thinking, do you regret the big house? I know your manager said big houses are in right now but I also know you would be fine with just expanding where we live now. So what do you want babe?"

Sam

Sam blushed at Mercedes words. He didn't know much about their sex life, but apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Maybe that's how they ended up pregnant with twins only two years after Cameron was born. He wanted her to finish that thought, but he knew that would just cause more confusion and drama. "I don't regret anything that puts a smile on your face. You have a beautiful smile by the way. Have I mentioned that before?" Sam shrugged. "The house is paid for already. And it's gorgeous. We can do a lot with the extra space. Let's enjoy it."

Mercy

Mercedes blushed looking down at Sam. "I think you have mentioned it a time or two before. I love hearing the things you love about me." She said moving closer to him. She hopped up on the counter and motioned for him to come between her legs. "Look at you being all sneaky, you paid for it behind my back? God, I love you, Sam, so much." Placing her hands on the counter she nodded. "Oh there is so much we can do inside and outside of this house. And that pool oh I see a lot of fun being had."

Sam

Sam was nervous. He didn't want to take things further, but with the way Mercedes was looking at him, he didn't think he would be able to stop himself. "Well, how about we save the christening for later? I really want to go and grab a bite to eat. Being in this kitchen has made me really hungry."

Mercy

Mercedes smiled trying to hide her disappointment. She didn't know if it was the thought of her being pregnant with twins if he just woke up and decided that he didn't want to be with her, but he was definitely not into her like he normally would be and that fact alone hurt her feelings. "You know I could eat, hosting twins is a tough job food wise, it's like each child is craving something different." She hopped off the counter and made her way to the front door. She wasn't sure what was going on with Sam but she was starting to wonder if he was even truly her husband anymore.

#para: forward in time #samcedes rp #samcedes #mercedes jones #sam evans

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crystal-siren · 6 years

Text

Knowledge (Dad!Tony x Reader + Loki x Reader) Pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

@dovies666 @mymourningtea @hams-corner @parkerrpeterr

There’s something unusual about us. Something deeply spiritual. The way we fall in one another so naturally like our love carved of the earth. There are star systems bursting at our fingertips when we touch. We are in tune. Our hearts croon the same old song. The universe planned for us. I know it. I know it. ~ Beau Taplin // In Tune

“Am I right to assume that you’ve gone completely insane?”

Y/N smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “That depends on your definition of the word.”

“How about wanting to jump into a Siberian lake during Winter?”

Turning around to face her companion, Y/N folded her arms and grinned. “I told you, its research.”

“Yeah, some research this is. You’ll freeze within seconds. How am I supposed to explain that to your parents?”

“My dear cousin,” Y/N approached him and lay a gentle hand on his arm. “My parents don’t even know I’m here.”

“Brilliant.”

Y/N smirked at his sarcastic tone and turned to walk to the end of the pier. Her eyes swept over the frozen expanse and her breath came out in puffs. “I’ve come this far,” she murmured to herself, “I can’t stop now.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Her cousin’s amused tone broke through her thoughts.

Shaking her head, Y/N took a deep breath and spoke, this time loud enough for him to hear her clearly. “Ever since you decided to help me, I have kept things from you.”

“Decided to help you? That’s not how I remember it.”

“Regardless,” Y/N turned to face him and was surprised to find him only an arm’s length away. “I haven’t told you the real reason for everything I’ve been doing these past two years.”

"You mean you’re about to tell me why you’ve stolen all that information ? Why you’ve used your position to gain access to otherwise classified and protected documents?” Her cousin’s blue eyes searched her face for any kind of answer.

Y/N nodded. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way, but, yes.”

“Well?”

Y/N bit her lip before letting out a shuddering breath. “I made a promise.”

“You made a promise? A promise to what, convince the world you’ve lost your mind? That you’ve completely lost it?” The disbelief and incredulity in his tone was almost visible.

“It was nothing like that and you know it,” Y/N was struggling to stay calm.

“Then please enlighten me.” There was an edge to her cousin’s voice that she had not heard before. “Because right now, I’m having a hard time trying to understand what kind of person would require such a promise from you.”

“He-” Y/N broke off and looked down at her hands. “He didn’t require anything of me. It was I who made the promise, not him.”

“What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

Y/N turned away from him and moved to stand near the end of the pier. She did not answer right away, her eyes fixated on the partially frozen surface below. When she spoke, however, her voice was soft, like a breath of wind. “I love him.”

Silence answered her statement. Not waiting for her cousin to respond, Y/N dropped the heavy coat she wore and shivered as the icy Siberian air hit her skin. The last thing she heard was her cousin’s protests before the cold water surrounded her.

~ ~ ~

“Look, the sky is so beautiful tonight.” Her eyes shone like the stars above them.

Indeed it was, a calm quiet spring night with not even the slightest breeze to disturb them.

“It is times like these that make me believe we are the only two people in existence.”

He soon found himself agreeing with her. Never in his life would he have imagined himself to be as happy as he was with her. “If only that were true.”

Sighing contentedly, she lay her head on his shoulder, her Y/F/C locks spilling over his shoulder. “For tonight, let us pretend that it is.”

Kissing the top of her head, he rested his chin amongst her coloured curls. “For you my love, I will.”

“I don’t want to go” she murmured and curled an arm around his waist, her face buried in his shoulder.

“Then don’t,” he whispered and held her closer.

“I must,” she lifted her head and met his gaze. “I must keep the promise I made.”

“What promise?”

“The promise to find you.”

Blinking, Loki sat up. She often visited him in that manner. Dreams, nightmares and visions. His escape from the isolation that was his punishment. The books his mother brought soon bored him and sight of the same four walls was slowly driving him mad.

The memory of her voice floated around the cell and he closed his eyes in an effort to escape back to where she was. He had no such luck. Sighing in frustration, he bent to retrieve a discarded book when a sudden coldness engulfed him. A bone-chilling cold that seemed to pulse ever-so-slightly. He had never felt anything like it.

Looking at his hands, he noticed that they had not shifted to the blue of his natural Jotun form. Confused, he cast a reflection spell but did not see himself.

Distorted sun rays soon made it clear that what he was looking at was underwater. A figure soon came into view and Loki did not have to guess who that was. Her coloured hair hung suspended in the water as she swam. She seemed to be swimming upwards. Her hands reached the surface first. But they did not pass through the water as expected. The surface was hard and would not yield even when she slammed her fists against it.

It was then that the prince saw fear enter her beautiful eyes. Her lips were clamped shut in order to preserve the precious air she had left. She began to claw at the ice, her actions becoming weaker as more time passed.

~ ~ ~

Y/N was beginning to panic, no matter how hard she hit or clawed, the ice would not give way. Surely her cousin would be hearing this? Y/N was tempted to call out to him with what strength and air she had left.

Her lungs were burning. The need for oxygen was becoming paramount. Her desperate eyes searched her surroundings and soon locked onto the submerged leg of the pier. Swimming up to it, she began to claw at the ice surrounding it. Still to no avail. Seeing no other options, she opened her mouth and screamed as best as one could underwater. “NIKOLAS!” A rush of bubbles accompanied the word.

When no immediate response came, her panic increased. Y/N refused to give up. She had made a promise and she’d be damned before letting anything make her break it. Her bruised and bloodied hands pounded on the ice and with fast dwindling reserves of air, she continued to call for her cousin.

~ ~ ~

Loki hated it. Watching her trapped under ice and fighting to survive. He loathed how helpless he felt. Unable to help her in anyway. Forced to stand and watch while the woman he loved could very well be living her last moments.

The cold had not left him. If anything, it had gotten worse. He heard the fear and panic in her voice as she called for someone named Nikolas. In any other situation, Loki would have been jealous. But now, he simply prayed and begged that this person would hear her.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “if you can hear me, I beg you not give up. I beg you to keep fighting. I beg you to live.”

~ ~ ~

She thought she was hearing things. The lack of air seemed to playing tricks on her oxygen-deprived brain. The voice, his voice, seemed to come from everywhere. It surrounded her with a comforting warmth and closing her eyes, she saw two emerald-eyes look back at her. Pleading with her to keep going.

Open your eyes, they seemed to say, open them. Stay awake! Keep fighting. Don’t you dare give up. Wake up and keep going.

~ ~ ~

Loki watched in frozen horror as her eyes remained closed despite his pleas. Her hands, which had been raised to break the ice, now hung suspended in the water. Her lips, a dark shade of purple, were curved in a gentle smile.

The prince watched in agonizing helplessness, his eyes scanning her for any signs of life. Even in such a state, he found himself mesmerised by her. Even now, he hoped and prayed that her eyes would open, that she would continue to fight like the survivor he knew her to be.

“Keep fighting woman! Damn you, don’t you dare stop.” A shuddering breath escaped him. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice choked with the tears he was struggling to hold back. “I won’t survive.”

His eyes remained trained on her, they did not leave her, not even when the ice above her was finally broken. Not even when she was lifted into the arms of her cousin. Wrapped in thick towels and furs, Y/N was carried away, her beautiful eyes closed to the world. Her elegant form limp in her cousin’s arms.

“May we meet again, my love,” he whispered. “I promise you, that my soul will find no rest until it has found yours.”

Braving one last look at the reflection, he saw only himself, and the Queen who stood silently behind him.

If his mother’s presence startled him, Loki refused to show it. Pushing himself off the bed, he stood and faced the older woman.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than he intended.

“Is a mother not permitted to see her son?”

“You are not my mo-”

“I am not your birth mother,” Frigga cut him off with a sad smile. “That I know. You have reminded me many times these past two years. But I raised you and loved you, I still love you. That makes me as much your mother as the one that gave birth to you.”

Loki could not find the right words to say to such a statement. Turning away from her, he fought against the tears that came every time she spoke that way.

“Who is she?” Frigga asked in a soft voice.

Loki knew full well who she was talking about. He briefly considered lying even though he knew that Frigga would easily see through him. “Who?”

“The young woman in the reflection.”

Taking a deep breath, Loki turned to face her. “She was a mortal I became acquainted with during my time on Midgard.”

“A mortal you say?” Frigga was intrigued, to say the least. What was it about this young woman in particular that had snagged the attention of her younger son?��

“Yes.”

Frigga nodded thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving him. “A very headstrong young woman, to be sure.”

“How would you know such a thing?” Loki narrowed his eyes at the Queen and kept his tone neutral.

“I do believe your brother spoke of her. A mortal woman with hair and eyes unlike any he has seen before. Of such a vivid colour that it would be impossible to lose her within a crowd of thousands.” Frigga smiled in memory of Thor’s description of the young lady. “A mortal who valued knowledge above all else.”

The image of Y/N clutching her book to her chest came unbidden to the forefront of Loki’s memory. Her Y/F/C hair was tousled from sleep but her eyes were bright with curiosity.

“You like to read?” He heard himself ask.

“Yes. I do.” She answered, “if you ask my parents, they would say I spend more time reading than in the company of actual people.”

Frigga watched her son closely. His eyes seemed to be seeing something else, something far away. A sad smile graced his features. In that moment, the prince seemed to forget he had company and dropped the masks of arrogance and indifference.

Frigga decided that perhaps it was best that she left without telling him. If memories offered him a respite from the isolation and loneliness, who was she to take that away from him ?

~ ~ ~

The first thing Y/N noticed upon opening her eyes was how warm it was. Her e/c eyes were immediately drawn to a large fireplace.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her cousin knelt by the fire and smirked at her from over his shoulder. “I hate to say it but, I did say this was going to happen.”

“Doesn’t sound like you hate to say it,” Y/N shot back, her voice a little hoarse. Her eyes sparkled with mischief despite her weakened state.

“Oh no you don’t,” Nikolas left the fire and came to sit on the bed beside her. “You almost drowned in a partially frozen lake, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” she protested and grinned.

“You don’t have to,” Nikolas tried and failed to look serious. The relief he felt at seeing her awake was evident. “You gave me a real scare there cuz.”

“I did?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Sure you did,” Nikolas reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “When I heard you calling my name from under the ice, I thought I was imagining things. But when I saw you there, floating beneath the ice with your eyes closed, I feared the worst.”

Y/N snuggled in closer, grateful for the familiarity that came from family. “How exactly did you break through all that ice?”

“I hit the ice more times than I’d like to count, until finally I broke through and pulled you out.” He looked down and gently rubbed her arm, as though he was remembering how cold she had felt that day, her lips a dark shade of purple and her skin pale.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nikolas asked, changing the topic slightly.

Y/N shook her head. “It wasn’t there. I mean, it was once, but someone must have come before me.”

“Do you know who it could be?” Nikolas had no idea why he was even encouraging this.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her eyes narrowed in thought before widening as her mind locked onto an idea. “SHIELD. They took it. They must have.” The conviction in her voice startled her cousin.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded, “positive. Think Nikolas, who else could it be?!”

“Oh gee,” her cousin got up and returned to the fire. “There could be any number of people out there, looking for the same thing as you. Besides,” he turned back to her, “what was it you were looking for anyway? It must have been pretty important for you to knowingly risk your life like that.”

“It was a stone.”

“A stone? You almost drowned for a stone?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes seemed to go distant. “This stone was the last piece, the piece I have been looking for. The key to fulfilling the promise I made and have every intention of keeping.”

Nikolas narrowed his eyes and stared at her intently. “What is so special about this stone exactly ?”

Y/N smiled and met his piercing blue gaze. “It is known as the Stone of Transcendence.”

Nikolas blinked, perplexed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It is said,” Y/N continued, “that this stone would allow it’s bearer to go beyond the limits and reaches of this world. Legend has it, that it bore the ability to open the doorway to other worlds.”

“Other worlds?” Nikolas wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“Yes.” Her eyes seemed to come back to the present. “I was this close Nikolas,” she emphasised, “this damn close and those bastards came and stole my last chance at finding him.” The passion and anger in her voice surprised her cousin. “It’s so bloody typical.”

“Just who is this person you keep talking about?”

A small smile blossomed on her features. Her earlier anger seemingly forgotten. “Loki. His name is Loki.”

Now Nikolas was convinced, his dear cousin had finally lost her mind. “Loki ? as in the Loki? The one from Norse Mythology? The one that attacked New York two years ago?”

Y/N nodded, her smile fading a little. “To be fair, my dear cousin, he never actually went through with it.”

“Oh I’m sorry, the one that tried to attack New York.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like the answer, but you quite literally asked for it,” Y/N reminded him.

Nikolas said nothing, he simply shook his head and turned his attention back to the crackling flames in the fireplace.

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Nikolas spoke, remaining in the same position. “What could you possibly need my help for?”

“Getting the stone back.”

“No.” He stood up and faced her, “absolutely not.”

“You’re just being petty now,” Y/N grinned up at her stone-faced cousin. “You’re an intelligence agent, this is quite literally what you do.”

Nikolas stared at her as though she had grown a third eye. “I’m a spy, yes, but not a thief.”

“I’m sorry dear cousin,” Y/N met his eyes, “but I do not see the difference.”

“You seem to be forgetting a very important aspect of all of this.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and gestured for him to continue. “And that would be?”

“I’m Russian intelligence and you want me to steal something from an American intelligence organisation. How does that not spell trouble?”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “Since when have you every backed down in the face of a challenge?”

“This isn’t a challenge Y/N,” Nikolas tried to reason with her. “If anything goes wrong, America will blame Russia and we’ll have Cold War 2.”

“Oh please,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “there is no need to be so dramatic. This is hardly a war declaration. You’re simply helping me get back something that was stolen from me.”

“But you never had it.”

“Technicalities,” Y/N dismissed with a small wave, “the point is, they took it because they knew I was looking for it.”

“Do you have any idea what you sound like?”

“Like a mad genius?”

“You got the mad part right,” Nickolas shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“So,” Y/N’s eyes sparkled, “are you in?”

“I’m sorry, did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

She nodded and grinned, “sure I did.”

Nikolas soon found himself returning the expression and smiled down at her. “This plan of yours will most likely get us caught or killed.”

“Good to know you’re so confident in both of our abilities,” Y/N smirked.

“Let’s not try and start a war alright?”

Y/N nodded, her smirk widening. “I’ll do my best.”

To be continued....

Part 4

270 notes · View notes

ofbandits-archive · 5 years

Text

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ robert downey jr + cis male + he / him — have you seen stanley 'stan' butler? they sure have been hanging out at king's steakhouse and restaurant a lot recently. they are a fifty three year old known as the perspicacious, and they currently work for the savages as a pimp, which they’ve been doing for twenty five years. a pansexual capricorn, they are patient + resourceful, as well as distrusting + demanding. a locked cabinet filled with spirits, a plethora of neat ties, a lingering scent of sauvage, dior. ×

okay, so it’s me again, hi... -- i was in need of an older man...tbh & rdj is always a necessary addition, so it just makes sense. time i show my marvel stan(hehe)-ness with more than just mr holland. so without further ado, meet my new old man who’s been in the business for a very, very long time and is too old for this shit. if you want to plot with him ( ’cause i need everything; angsty, sweet and otherwise ) give this a like & i’ll come at you...there should be some wanted connections at the end of this, so...if any of them peak your interest, let me know !

born to a struggling couple in dallas, texas, it was instilled in stanley from a very young age that money does not grow on trees and that you have to work hard for what you want. his family harboured quite an infamous reputation, which he wouldn’t shake until he left the neighbourhood he was raised within. stan always felt somewhat ashamed of his family, but he also felt a guilt due to that, too. his mother tried her best in his eyes and he loved her with every beat of his heart. that’s not to say he understood a multitude of her actions, though. he often wished he could somehow shake sense into her, but he remained silent.

the oldest of five, stan has always done his best to keep a roof over his family’s heads, and food in their bellies. whilst his parents were often busy ( he never knew why, but continued on despite that fact ), he felt a responsibility to look after those that came after him. he worked out neat little tricks early on to get them to eat the vegetables, and to get them to go to school. always a head over heart, but whilst he’ll never admit to it -- would rather die -- a lot of his logical actions are strictly based around his need to keep everyone around him safe and merry.

since he could be fairly materialistic; always craving possessions his parents would never be able to afford for him, he quickly found his first job. he was only ten years old; both delivering newspapers, and making homemade lemonade. he was quite an enterprising lad, and surprised most, if not all of the people who came to know him. he was persuasive too, and that always worked in his favour. from then onward, he hasn’t stopped working. some might refer to him as a bit of a workaholic, and it’s affected his life in discreet and not-so discreet ways over the years.

at school, it was discovered that the young butler extremely intelligent and he achieved high results despite everything obstacle being in his way. all of his clothes and equipment were second hand ( and often stolen ), sometimes by him, and sometimes by his parents. he became a master pick pocketer from an early age. so whilst he was earning a moral wage, he was also pocketing money immorally too.

his father, an alcoholic was rarely at home and when he was, he was making the small, cramped house an absolute misery. this fact also made it impossible for him to hold down a job, and he often acted out as a result. whilst stanley never vocalised it, he believed his father to be a deadbeat, a waste of space. this was further proven when he came home at tender age of fourteen years old to find him cheating with another woman in town. he told his mother, but instead of kicking him out -- she buried it under the carpet.

it wasn’t until he was much older than he learnt the truth about his mother’s occupation. why she was never there to tell him bedtime stories, and why she covered her face in make up as though it would disguise the bruises forming against her skin, why their family had the reputation that it did. his mother worked as an escort. during the day, she was a bank clerk, at night ? she was escorting to make more money. he didn’t know what to make of it at first. he wasn’t mad at her, but mad at the way men would treat her; including his father.

this all came to a head late one evening, when he came home to him berating and beating her. he saw red and lost complete control, beating his father to a pulp. he barely escaped with his life, but didn’t press charges. it surprised stan, but he didn’t complain. he was eighteen years old and more than ready to move out; his father’s only condition. it gave him the necessary drive to apply for university, to become something of himself. he got into the first university of his choice ( name pending ) and the first moment he was able to, he left home. his biggest, and longest lasting regret is leaving his brothers and sisters behind, along with his mother. he wishes he found a way for them to come with him, sure they were capable of more too.

whilst at university, he met a tonne of individuals who were a lot more like him. he never felt more -- connected in his life, more carefree and calm; without having to concern himself about what time his brother was going to come home, or what his sister was doing with that boy below her league. after a while, he caught a few friends whispering about a place called valdez and a fairly new gang in need of members. intrigued by the prospect, once graduated, he moved himself there a long with a few others...and hasn’t looked back since.

if you’d asked him before he became a savage whether or not he was capable of killing someone, he’d have brushed off the question with a laugh and a ‘of course not’, despite how gravely he injured his dad...he was sure that he’d never actually be able to carry through such a macabre task. but after initiating into the savages, he found out that he was capable of far more than he ever have predicted before.

after a few years, he worked his way into becoming a pimp. it’s a job he takes pride in and he takes it incredibly seriously too. truth be told, and though nobody is probably aware of this, it’s a necessary duty which lies very close to his heart. his main aim is to keep those who worked as escorts as safe as possible, as well as making more than enough money so they’re all comfortable. he uses his business prowess to this day, and does his best to teach it to the escorts too -- and anyone willing to listen. all in all, he’s ruthless when necessary, though usually only when you’ve hurt someone who matters. albeit personally, or in a business sense, too.

he’s naturally protective; would have been before what happened to balthazar, even more so now. he’s a dad without a child ( that he knows of, oo ) and will do all in his power to look after those he works with / for. the escorts safety in particular is paramount to him, and he always wants them to be able to tell him if anything happens that makes them feel uncomfortable. ( anyone who’s named for doing this should probably start reciting their prayers. )

wanted connections.

a best friend / a ‘bromance’ though he’d hate that word ; they’re one of the only individuals in the world that have seen his vulnerability, his weaknesses, though he’d always say tell anyone and i’ll kill you, he never means it. they’re someone he’d do legitimately anything for, without question. bury this body ? sure ! burn this building ? why not ! jump off the cliff ? whatever you want ! it goes without saying. also possibly quite playful ? they tease each other, but it’s all playful & there’s no second guessing about where their loyalties lie. ( 0 / 1 )

ex-fiancee/ex-wife ; quite an angst-ridden connection, but necessary just the same. this person too knows quite a lot about stan, and probably didn’t like everything that they saw. his workaholic-ness drove a wedge between them, his infidelity ? completely cut any lingering thread away. they’re in bad terms, but stan wants what’s best for them. deep, deep down he always presumed that wasn’t him, so might have acted out accordingly. ( 0 / 1 )

a former sinful fling ; the person he cheated with ? maybe they too were taken, it was a crime of passion. both getting something out of the situation, despite how bad it was for it to carry on. every time was the last time, even if it never was. it eventually came to an end & there’s awkwardness and unanswered questions. they could even be in the opposing gang, whatever works really. ( 0 / 1 )

sibling-type relationships ; he misses his siblings with the entirety of his being, often regrets leaving the way that he did. these individuals ? well they receive the love that his siblings usually would’ve / used to. he’s more protective over them than his normal protectiveness, and he also lets them get away with far more than anyone else too. he’ll tease them, but if anyone else does it ? meet stan’s wrath, that’s all there it to say. ( 0 / ? )

those he ‘babies’ ; he doesn’t have children ( that he knows of, as already mentioned ) but these individuals might as well be his children. they didn’t ask for it, and they probably don’t always like it but regardless, he’ll yell at them when they act recklessly, he’ll protect them when necessary. he’s always wanted kids, secretly and he’s basically adopted these characters, even if they never asked for it...but, especially if they did. ( 0 / ? )

an arch-rival ; he’s too old for real hatred, but this person really does grind his gears...for whatever reason. it could be jealousy, or it could be something else. that can be discussed; either way, they do not get on and will take time out of each other’s day to make that obvious and to wreck a part of their day too. ( 0 / 1 )

unexpected friends ; it’s surprising. maybe they’re a sweetheart, or a cobra, younger, reckless. it shouldn’t work, but regardless of that notion, it just does. he cares about them, he likes having them around and actively seeks them out on occasion. they remind him that the world isn’t so black and white...which is definitely necessary for him. i see good influences and bad influences falling under this umbrella term too, actually. ( 0 / ? )

neighbours ; he’s a good neighbour. looks out for you without you realising it; unless necessary. like if your car’s broken into, or you need packages delivered to his house because you’re out. that’s not to say everyone else around him is the same. a neighbour from hell would be wonderful, just saying. ( 0 / ? )

housemates / ‘guests’ ; he does not like to be alone in his big ass abode, so would definitely allow those in need of a place to stay, stay with him. it could be a temporary deal, or it could’ve become a permanent fixture. either way, he loves a lively house...after all, he’s had one since he was very little. ( 0 / 2 )

a will they, won’t they ; he likes to think he has platonic and familial love in the bag, but when it comes to romantic love ? he hardly has the greatest of track records. he likes this person an awful lot, and...maybe they like him too. whenever anything might happen though, something always gets in the way. ( lets say a possible gas leak, or a shoot-out at sharp’s for example ) which always leads them into thinking...maybe this is a sign. either way, he’s most gentle with this person; quieter than usual. he wears his heart on his sleeve more than he’s willing to admit, they bring that out of him...even if they don’t see it -- there’s a chance anyone in a mile radius around them will. ( 0 / 1 )

current fling(s) ; ( 0 / 3 ) so, love scares him but he’s a big fan of intimacy without expectations. they both know the score and it’s better that way, easier. he likes fun as much as the next guy, and these people bring him that. regardless of whether or not it’s right, or wrong. he doesn’t care, at least not when drowning in blankets.

#okay so for now hopefully this'll do #outlaw.intro #i'll add more to it when i write him bc that's bound to tell me more but yes #pls come luv my sOn

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ncfan-1 · 6 years

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Heirs and Cast-Offs

The birth of a sibling isn't always the happiest affair--especially not for Arahael, uncertain of her place among her people. A talk with her grandmother makes for... interesting conversation.

Written for the April 18th general prompt Customs and Traditions. It looks like writing about one of the Chieftains of the Dúnedain I head-canon as a woman has become an annual tradition (Probably to be combined with writing about one of the rulers of Arthedain I head-canon as a woman).

[Also on AO3]

[CN/TW: Brief discussion of rape; internalized misogyny. A more general note is that, as ever, the views of the characters do not necessarily represent my views.]

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

Her mother had been brought back to Imladris almost as soon as it was discovered that she was pregnant. Lady Ídhil had had a hard time of it with Arahael, from beginning to end, and Lord Aranarth thought it better that she be monitored by the Elven healers for as long as possible. Arahael had seen little of her mother since the latter was brought to Imladris, though that was scarcely unusual—her mother was typically far away in the northern wastes of what had once been Arnor, and had neither the time nor the opportunity to visit the place where her daughter was fostered. As a younger child, Arahael had resented it, but Master Elrond had taught her (among the other things he had taught her) the paramount importance of adhering to duty. Her parents could not be with her, but they still wished for her to be safe and cared for, and have all the advantages she would have had if her father was King of Arthedain instead of chieftain of a scattered, broken people. That was why she was here, and they were so rarely with her. And even if they were rarely with her, it was hardly as though they’d left her alone.

She’d seen little of her mother. Lady Ídhil’s health had been poor since around the third month of her pregnancy, and she rarely stirred from the rooms that had been prepared for her. Arahael’s days were consumed by her lessons—dawn to dusk, she had lessons. If she neglected them for even one day, it would take well-nigh a week to catch up. She’d done that but once while her mother was here, stealing away from her lessons to pay her mother a visit.

“Do you think it pleases me to see you disrespect our allies thus?” Her voice was deathly quiet as she spoke, her eyes like chips of ice. “Leave me. Go back to them, and beg forgiveness. If you wish to please me, you will dutifully attend your lessons, and never again visit me when you should be elsewhere.”

The rebuke had stung, but it was supposed to; a rebuke could not be taken to heart unless it pierced the flesh. Arahael had done as her mother had asked, and on the occasions they saw each other, she thought Lady Ídhil was happier with her. But they hadn’t seen each other often.

It was months ago now, nearly a year ago, that Arahael’s mother had come to Imladris. Her father was here now, as well. She had seen little of him. Given what was happening, she wasn’t certain she wanted to. Her mother had given birth, Arahael’s sibling had been brought into the world, and everything that had happened since then left Arahael less and less certain of just what her place was supposed to be.

“You’ve been very quiet.”

As ever, when her grandmother spoke up suddenly, it was jarring, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t have been. Her grandmother had lived in Imladris for longer than Arahael herself had been alive. She ought to have felt like a fixture here, her presence as right and natural as the towering peaks of the Hithaeglir that surrounded the town, as ineffaceable as the voice of the Bruinen. And yet, she seemed as Arahael sometimes still felt—at best, a guest; at worst, an intruder. Someone who was allowed to live here, but would never truly belong here.

Lady Arwen had murmured to her, her night-dark eyes trained on a point just over the top of Arahael’s head, that all Men were guests on this earth. One of the names the Elves had given to Men when they first met was the Guests, for they had perceived that this world was not their true home. Arahael had never forgotten that conversation. The memory of unease sat on her chest in the dark of the night like the tales she had heard whispered by Éothéod traders passing through Imladris on their way west—the mære, an evil spirit that tormented sleepers by sitting heavily upon their chests, tearing at their flesh with their claws and flooding their minds with terrible dreams. She felt… unsettled.

Now, more so than ever.

“Have I?” Arahael asked, her voice more stilted than it normally was to her ears. Fíriel had taught her grandchild Sindarin as the people of Gondor spoke it, and they had taken to speaking to one another in that dialect when they were alone. It had never sat as well on Arahael’s tongue as had the Sindarin of the northern Dúnedain, the Sindarin of the Elves of Imladris, but she made the effort for her grandmother’s sake. After everything else, it did not seem so much to ask, that Fíriel of Gondor could hear Sindarin spoken as her countrymen spoke it.

“Indeed, you have,” Fíriel told her, her keen eyes glinting with the edge of her amusement. “Until you spoke I was wondering if you hadn’t been struck mute.” Her voice softened as she pressed her hand to Arahael’s arm. “What troubles you, child?”

Arahael twisted the tip of her belt in her hands, trying to find words with which to make concrete the things that were twisting in her mind—mære fears, or perhaps the fears manufactured by a worrying child, or perhaps they were reasonable fears considering what had happened. She felt her grandmother’s touch on her mind. Gentle, no doubt meant to be reassuring—it didn’t feel like she was trying to pick the locks on the doors or force them open, not the way her father might do if she behaved thusly with him. “You’ve seen my mother,” she said slowly, tentatively. “You’ve seen the baby.”

“Indeed I have, Arahael. It’s been more than a month.” She tilted her head downwards, so that they were a little closer to being on eye level with one another. “I could scarcely have avoided it,” she added conspiratorially, her mouth twisting in a rueful smile.”

“Then… you know. That the baby’s a boy.”

Fíriel’s eyebrows shot up. “I have been told as much, yes.” She regarded Arahael with her head tilted slightly to one side. “This is something that troubles you?”

Arahael bit her lip. Her grandmother was a daughter of Gondor, many generations removed from Númenor, but she had never seen in any way diminished to Arahael’s eyes. She was well past her hundredth year, and her face was as smooth as an Elf’s, her hair untouched by frost. Her eyes were as far-seeing as any king of old’s must have been, her mind as quick and wise. Though Arahael could immediately discern the difference between Fíriel and the Elves, her grandmother still seemed to Arahael grand and ageless, as timeless as the Hithaeglir. She could imagine Fíriel must have been what Silmariën looked like when she ruled Andúnië, thousands of years ago. The blood of Númenor ran stronger in her than it did in anyone else Fíriel had ever seen, and the things that plagued Arahael’s mind seemed… small, in comparison.

It was too late to give her excuses and bow out of her grandmother’s chambers, too late to pretend that she was not troubled at all. Much as she would have liked to go, Arahael saw now avenue that would let her. She sucked in a deep breath—meant to be steadying, but honestly, she didn’t feel any different at all. “The baby’s a boy.” Her fingernails sank into her knees, needle-points of pain even through layers of soft, rich fabric. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now.”

“Why should anything happen to you?”

A knot formed in Arahael’s throat. “Everyone says men are better warriors.” And still believed it, even when Arahael spent hours slaving over exercises, over archery and swordplay and knife-work. She learned quickly, her teachers allowed, but her natural skill would never be the equal of a man’s. That was something that everyone knew, a truth so obvious that usually there was no value in saying it aloud.

“Being a leader means more than just being able to swing a sword and strike true, Arahael,” Fíriel pointed out. “There were many kings in Númenor—ruling queens, as well—who never brandished a sword against a foe.” She picked up a book from a nearby dresser. “I could list them to you, if you so desire.”

“I’m not going to be the heir anymore.”

“That’s not how it has ever been done in Arthedain, child—the oldest child inherits, regardless of their sex. The disagreement between Amlaith and her brothers is the reason it was Arthedain, and not Arnor.”

Arahael stared up at her. “They wouldn’t let you been Queen of Gondor,” she said in a small voice, “because you’re a woman.”

Fíriel’s expression was unreadable—she could be made from carven stone. “And you believe that because your father has the blood of Gondor in his veins, he will follow Gondor’s customs and disinherit you.”

Silence. There was nothing she could say, nothing that didn’t sound utterly pathetic.

Everyone agreed that men made for better warriors than did women. Fair enough, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain’s duties were not limited to combat—Arahael had just as many lessons about healing, woodcraft, and herb lore as she did the art of war. But it was scarcely possible to deny that the North was a dangerous place, any more than it was possible to deny that the Dúnedain were always at risk, and that they needed a leader who was as great a warrior as a healer.

Most also believed that men made for better leaders than did women, and Arahael couldn’t work around that by giving her all both to lessons in combat and in healing. Men were made to lead, women to follow. Though everyone had always insisted that she was an exception, that the highest blood of Númenor was not governed by such things, this was still what they claimed to be true. Only a man could be both the warrior and judge his people needed.

Now, Arahael was no longer her father’s only child. The Chieftain of the Dúnedain had a son, a son who could be the warrior, judge, and leader the Dúnedain needed, scattered across the North as they were. Arahael had always striven to be all that her people needed her to be, but would it be enough or him? Or would she be set aside in favor of the baby? Was it her fate to be doomed to become one of the unnamed spaces on the old genealogical tables, unworthy of a name for she was a woman who had neither ruled over anyone, nor married anyone who did?

No intrusion upon her mind was forthcoming, not even the gentlest of knocks upon the door, but Fíriel sensed her disquiet, all the same. She reached out and grasped Arahael’s hand (it was shaking, she realized almost absently, and even more absent was the revelation that she couldn’t remember when her hands had started shaking thus) in her own large, strong hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her hands were always so warm, Arahael thought numbly, even in the depths of winter when the snowdrifts were up to her waist. “The North isn’t as Gondor in matters of inheritance, my love.” She smiled slightly, her eyes tilting upwards. “You need not fear the theft of your inheritance.”

“But what if Father—“

“Your father will not forsake Arthedain’s laws in such a manner,” Fíriel said firmly. “He’s too much a traditionalist; no doubt he thinks that to rob you of your rights would bring the wrath of the Valar down on his head.” She looked off to one of the walls of her chambers. “He’s far too devout to risk that.”

“But they wouldn’t let you be queen at all,” Arahael mumbled. Her mouth twisted in something akin to a grimace, the thought swirling in her head a distinctly unpleasant one. “And Grandfather…”

The wind blew through the open window between them, as if to prove some kind of point. “The throne of Gondor was never my birthright to begin with. It’s hardly surprising that they wouldn’t let me have it. Although—“ A shadow dark and obscuring as a funeral shroud passed over Fíriel’s face, and for a moment, she seemed as old as a woman of lesser blood would have seemed at her age. The shadow passed, but it left behind a spark of bitterness that gleamed out of Fíriel’s eyes like pale fire. “And your grandfather, oh, what illustrious company he wished to keep.

“Herucalmo the Upstart, who leeched off of a weak-willed queen and stole his only child’s birthright for his own. Calion the Tyrant, who won a crown for his lofty brow by nobly raping his cousin—“ Fíriel’s lip curled; Arahael winced “—and spent it driving Númenor headlong into the abyss. I wonder what they would have called my husband, had he succeeded? Arvedui the Insolent, perhaps?” She tapped a finger against her mouth. “Or perhaps Arvedui the Unlearned? Certainly, if the claim he made to the Council was not totally disingenuous, it showed a shocking lack of understanding of the Númenórean inheritance laws he was trying to invoke.”

In spite of herself, Arahael blinked, startled by the venom dripping from her grandmother’s voice. Knowing what she did, it should have been obvious that there would be something like this lurking in Fíriel’s mind, waiting for the opportunity to be vented. But she had never evinced as much to Arahael, and it had never occurred to Arahael to look for it. Fíriel of Gondor had lost much. Fíriel of Gondor had been denied much. More than Arahael had, and more than Arahael thought she ever would, even if she was stripped of her inheritance as her half-mære fears warned she might be.

“What did you think of it?”

The question was blurted out, with Arahael not realizing until it was put to the air that it might not have been the best thing to ask. But it was in the air, said and done; it was too late to take it back.

Fíriel raised an eyebrow. “Of my claim being rejected?” she asked, entirely too calmly—Arahael caught sight of her shoulders stiffening. “Or your grandfather trying to take my claim for his own?”

Arahael watched her face closely, wishing her grandmother’s mind was not a house full of locked doors and shuttered windows. “All of it,” she said finally, her voice hushed.

Not immediately did Fíriel reply. She leaned back in her chair, drawing a deep, sharp breath, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing. “I never,” she said quietly, “while my father and my brothers still lived, I never thought that I could be the queen of Gondor. We have already discussed the differences between Gondor and Arthedain in this—let me go a step further. In the waning days of Númenor, the eldest daughters were stripped of their rights; Tar-Míriel was not the only one. Elendil and Anárion hated the men who did this, but they were happy to follow the precedent they set. There have been no Ruling Queens of Gondor. Women cannot inherit the throne, even if all of their brothers are dead, and their brothers childless. Not even a king’s sister-son can inherit the throne from him. The thought of my being acclaimed queen was ridiculous.

“My father never pretended that I would be anything but what I was.” Her voice was very soft; she slowly twisted the ring on her left hand from side to side. “I would never been a great woman. I would marry a great man. I would bear his children. Perhaps one of the children I bore him would be a great man, and if he was, I would be remembered as his mother. That was what I would be. No matter what my abilities—“ she clenched her jaw “—that was what I would be. I was always loved, but my family let me suffer under no illusions of what I was permitted to be.”

Her eyes misted over suddenly; she clapped a hand to her mouth. Arahael leaned forward, alarmed, but Fíriel waved her off with her free hand. “It was the most ridiculous idea. But then I learned that my father and my brothers were all dead.” She wavered, a few shaky breaths escaping her mouth, distorted by the hand still planted over her mouth. “Gondor was in turmoil; there was no clear line of succession.” As soon as Fíriel’s eyes had misted over, they hardened, water freezing to ice. “He tried to use me to make himself king of a land he had never before cared for,” she hissed venomously. “If it was anyone’s claim, it was mine, not his.” She took her hand away from her face to reveal that her mouth was twisted in an almost grotesquely hideous scowl. “If either of us should have ruled Gondor after my father died, it should have been me.”

Arahael stared, feeling all of a sudden something like an intruder, and very much like a stranger.

Fíriel drew another breath, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was familiar to Arahael again, her wise, kindly grandmother. “I was a Silmariën,” she told her gently. “A path was closed to me, and I found another. I did not enjoy the level of success that Silmariën did—I never ruled anything in my own name, not even my own house—but I was one of my father-in-law’s highest advisors, and he lent his ear to my counsel when he would not take heed of anyone else.

“You, Arahael…” She reached out and held both of Arahael’s hands in her own. Her grip was slacker this time, almost weak, but there was a vitality under her skin that belied it. “…If I am Silmariën, then you are Tar-Ancalimë, Tar-Telperiën. Your life shall be what you make of it. None of us are without things that limit our choices—in your case, it is your duty to your people—but you will have so much more control over your fate than I did.” A shadow of bitterness passed over her face, before it melted away. “And remember, Arahael. If you think that someone means to steal your birthright from you, you must fight to keep it, rather than simply withering in despair. Never let them have it, no matter who they are. Never let yourself be ruled by fear.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Arahael nodded.

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Bruinen—‘Loud water’ (Sindarin). A river in the east of Eriador. It originated as two tributaries flowing out of the Misty Mountains, one of which came from the High Pass. The Bruinen flowed through the valley where Rivendell was located, and formed the eastern border of Arnor (later, Rhudaur). Éothéod—a race of Northmen who lived in the north of Middle-Earth, near the Vales of Anduin and Mirkwood. They were the ancestors of the Rohirrim. Hithaeglir—the Misty Mountains (Sindarin); the mountain range separating Eriador and Rhovanion, the largest mountain range in Middle-Earth; first raised by Morgoth to hinder Oromë in his hunting of Morgoth’s creatures

#Legendarium Ladies April #LLA 2018 #Fanfic #Arahael #Firiel of Gondor #Lord of the Rings #Tolkien

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