#Junior Flutter Developer Opportunity

[janeemmanuel]

Flutter Developer Intern | Fintech Job

🚀 Flutter Developer Intern (1-Month Internship, Full-Time Opportunity) 📍 Location: Lekki, Lagos (On-site, Jakande to Ikota axis) 📅 Duration: 1 Month (with potential Full-Time offer based on performance) 💼 Job Type: Internship → Full-Time Hire Potential 💻 About the Role We are seeking a driven Flutter Developer Intern to join our fast-paced fintech project. This is a high-impact opportunity to…

[reidmotif]

"Technically" Not A Student

Summary: Reader is Alex Blake’s TA, and after a guest lecture, Spencer seems to take a liking to her .

Prompt:You’re Alex Blake’s TA when a Dr. Reid comes to guest lecture. Things get heated quickly when you're alone.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, guestlecturer!Spencer , age gap (roughly 10 years), car sex, heavy making out, unprotected sex, slight female masturbation, Spencer is smart and that's HOT, heavy sexual tension

Word Count: 5.1k

Being asked to be Alex Blake’s TA was the opportunity of a lifetime, and when it was presented to me as a first-year graduate student at Georgetown, I took it eagerly and never looked back. 

She had personally approached me after I’d finished a semester in her forensic linguistics class as a freshman, and commended me on my dedication to the material and my general work ethic, and then inquired if I’d ever consider filling out an application as her teaching assistant starting the next semester. 

I immediately agreed. It was a no-brainer. Blake was a seasoned professional in the career field I wished to enter, not to mention she’d been one of the best professors I’d had whilst taking classes at Georgetown. Knowing I’d be working so closely with her absolutely thrilled me. It provided opportunities I'd have never gotten otherwise.

For example, getting to sit in on the class the famed Spencer Reid would be lecturing on. 

She usually kept me quite busy, having me develop assignments and quizzes for her class when she had other responsibilities to attend to. I’d heard horror stories from other TA’s in which their supervisors would delegate ninety-nine percent of the work to their juniors, having them essentially teach the class for minimal recognition or pay. Blake wasn’t like that, and I was thankful. This time around though, she had very different instructions for me.

“You don’t need to prepare any material this time around.” Blake explained to me, and I nodded, listening diligently. “I’d just like you to sit in, and possibly take notes, as you see fit.” She added, and I flashed a polite smile, nodding. 

“No problem whatsoever. I’ll sit in the back so as to not bother any students as I do.” I replied, offering her as much convenience as I could within my actions.  

Secretly, I did want to catch more than a glimpse from the back of the room. I wanted to experience the esteemed colleague Blake had often spoken of with incredible fondness. I was aware he was slightly older than I was, and a bit socially inept from the way she described him in his stories, but I was also aware the man was a goddamn genius. She’d describe in precision the way Reid would pick up on patterns and leads faster than anyone else on the team, and his immense knowledge in multiple fields beyond criminal profiling. When she’d told me he had three pHDs, I had to hold back a gasp. I hadn’t even started my own doctorate, but the idea only exhausted me- and he had three?! Color me impressed. 

Blake, being as brilliant as she did, could sense the hidden enthusiasm in my eyes in meeting this man. 

“Honestly, I’d rather you sit in the front. If you’re taking notes for any student unable to attend, it’s more imperative that you know the contents of the lecture, rather than anyone else.” She said, smiling kindly. 

“That’s absolutely alright with me.” I say, even quicker than before, nodding, thoughtfully. In reality, the only thing I was thinking about was how close I’d be near the man. I had no idea what he looked like, what he sounded like, but something about him made my stomach flutter. 

“I’m sure Dr. Reid would be interested in meeting you, as well. He takes special interest in anyone pursuing our line of work.” Blake added. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but the words made my cheeks light up with a hint of embarrassment.

I don’t know why, but he intimidated the hell out of me. The idea of him taking interest in a conversation with me made my heart beat slightly faster, and I nodded. I tried to convince myself that my nerves came from a purely professional standpoint, but regardless of my intentions, I was absolutely exhilarated by our imminent meeting.

While I knew there'd be initial awkwardness when I'd meet him, given my idolization of the man, I didn’t account for how terrible it’d actually be when I realized how fucking attractive he was. It was almost unfair. I was already tripping over the words I planned on saying in my head, and now he looked like that?

It was cruel.

The soft, doe eyes paired with sharp cheekbones. The slope of his nose, and the mess of brown curls atop his head. Every word out of his mouth was made even prettier by the soft curve and pinkness of his lips, and I found myself wanting to lunge over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

Needless to say, not the right thoughts to have about your professor’s (older) coworker. 

 While I was initially going to introduce myself to Dr. Reid before his lecture, hopefully establishing myself as a serious individual regarding my studies and eventual career, I shied away, opting for Blake to introduce me instead, nodding politely when he made eye contact with me, exchanging a quiet “hello” and taking my seat in the front.

That was it. And probably how it should be, considering I genuinely couldn’t think straight around him. Students began filtering in, and I took my spot at the front of the room, crossing my legs and beginning to outline his lecture as he began to speak. 

He was a brilliant lecturer, and it was honestly criminal he didn’t do this for a living. He gesticulated wildly throughout the whole of it, but every word of his was punctuated with a genuine passion that even some of the best professors on campus lacked. I did my best to diligently keep up with every point he brought up, but with how fast he spoke, it was difficult. Still, an effort was made. 

If that wasn’t enough to deal with, I swear the man kept making eye contact with me for the duration of his lecture. At first I believed I was imagining it, that his eyes kept drifting to mine by coincidence, but by the third time, I’d realized that everytime my eyes left his figure to scribble something, I’d look up to see his dark eyes boring into my soul, almost as if he was trying to solve me with a glance. It was intense and made my stomach turn in a way which wasn’t entirely unpleasurable, but I forced myself to remain professional.

 Blake did not need to see me absolutely lusting after her coworker, even if he was utterly fit. 

Anyway, he was probably only making eye contact considering I was in the front, and probably in an optimal spot for his eyes to focus on whilst addressing the whole of the class. Still, the way his gaze was trained on mine, reaching the deepest parts of my soul didn’t help the growing heat between my legs. 

I forced myself to focus on the board, my notes, anything but those godforsaken eyes for the rest of the lecture. Anytime we made eye contact afterwards, I’d quickly look down, like I’d been caught doing something terrible. 

Was anyone else seeing this? Was I insane and made delusional by my unexpected attraction to this man? Was he seriously making me wet just by looking at me? 

Yes. 

Sooner than anyone wanted, the lecture period had completed and Dr. Reid was finishing up. The students were absolutely enamored, especially the girls, as expected. Of course it wouldn’t be just me who’d noticed that in addition to being accomplished in his intelligence, he was also ridiculously easy on the eyes.

Blake stood in the corner, watching her students vacate the space, while some held back to talk to Dr. Reid as he packed his things. He seemed a bit shy at all the attention, but didn’t hesitate in explaining concepts to seemingly eager students, giving them all a soft, shy smile. 

God help me, he was adorable. How was I falling for a man I’d never even spoken a word to? 

I’d never left the classroom before Blake did, so as she stayed, I did as well, until the three of us were the only ones left in the room.  Blake smiled, walking up to Dr. Reid with her hands in her pocket. 

“You worked up quite the fanbase, Reid.” Blake said, a little playful.

Reid replied somewhat bashfully. “You have a great bunch of students.” He flashed a small smile at her as they spoke, still packing up his things. 

 The dynamic between my superior and the man was obviously sweet. They almost looked familial, which made sense. Blake had commented here and there that she managed to spend more time with the BAU with her actual family. I’m sure the latter was the same for Spencer. He probably had a doting girlfriend at home, ready to welcome him in her arms and I mentally kicked myself again for being so attracted to him.

He was nearly ten years older, for god’s sake! Enough! I screamed at myself. 

 I was brought out quite suddenly from my thoughts when Blake spoke in my direction. “This is (Y/N), my teaching assistant.” Reid came in my direction as I got up and approached him, offering a hand to me. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Blake told me who you were, but we weren’t properly introduced.” 

I gave a firm shake to his hand, which I noticed was calloused and smooth at the same time. God, even his hands were pretty. He had long, slender fingers with short-kept nails. They were veiny, and looked strong. I couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel like inside of me, buried in the heat of my core as I begged him for more.. more.. 

I forced the thought out of my head, only nodding again at the handsome man. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” I say, forcing myself to be professional.

Stop thinking about fucking him! 

“Spencer works just fine.” He says, imparting a kind smile that nearly made my knees weak. Did he have any idea the embarrassing effect he was having on me? 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake looking at the two of us with a bit of a strange expression on her face. I let go of his hand and took a step back. Oh god. Could she tell? If she could, she said nothing. She gave us both a kind smile, before grabbing her own things.

“(Y/N)?” She called out, starting to walk to the door. “Mind locking up for me tonight?” She said, already throwing her keys to me. 

“That’s fine by me.” I say, grabbing her keys mid-air. I was used to this. Blake often wanted to leave a bit quicker than I did, and I was more than happy to assist in any way possible. What I didn’t realize, was that this left me and Spencer in the room alone, something I wanted to avoid, considering how fucking awkward this man was rendering me with so much as a glance at me.

I heard Blake leave, and as she quietly closed the door behind her, I leaned against a desk, keeping my eyes down as Spencer continued to pack his own things. I tried to not let my gaze drift to him, as I waited for him to finish up. 

I let my thoughts wander to the lecture, and couldn’t shake the feeling he’d evoked in me when he looked at me like that. This was honestly ridiculous. The man had barely spoken ten words to me, and here I was, absolutely mooning over him. It was a new low for me, but in my defense being a graduate student meant I didn’t have much time to get my .. needs fulfilled.

“That’s why” I convinced myself. I just hadn’t gotten laid in a really long time. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“So, you’re a criminology student?” Spencer says, suddenly, breaking me out of my trance. 

I looked up, nodding. I responded on pure habit and instinct. ‘Yes, I’m in the process of getting my Masters in Criminology.” I said, nearly robotic. 

“That must be interesting.” Spencer replied, flashing me a sweet smile that caused an entirely new slew of butterflies to erupt in my stomach. “I never studied criminology specifically, but the classes I took interested me.” 

“Blake told me you had three pHDs.” I acknowledged, trying to return his smile, but in all honesty, I probably looked like an idiot. I was nervous as hell, and hoped he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t my fault. He was awe-causing. A sight to behold, if you will, in intelligence and appearance. 

He laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Three.” He must’ve noticed the stars in my eyes, because he continues. “As well as a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and Sociology. And I’m working on another in Philosophy.” He finishes with a smug, boyish type of smile. 

What was previously stars in my eyes, was now full blown shock all over my face. “Wow, Spencer.” I said, a little dumb-struck. “That’s.. a lot.” I add, a little stupidly, giving him a little laugh. 

He sweetly scratched his neck, revealing his self-consciousness. “Yeah? You think?” He says, a small smirk in his voice, and I laughed again. “You think I should stop after Philosophy?” 

“Totally. Save some knowledge for us.” I teased. It was comfortable. He was surprisingly easy to get used to. He was affable, despite how daunting his knowledge was. 

“Hey, you try graduating before you’re a teenager.” He defends himself, playfully. “Not much to do, really.” 

I laugh. “I don’t know.” I say, throwing my hands up a little. “Play ball? Run around?” I joke, and he makes a face at that, scrunching up his nose. 

“Not my thing.” He replies, smoothly, and I laugh. 

“Alright, fine. Keep your degrees doctor man.” And he laughs at my joke. Like, a real laugh. I didn’t even find my own rhetoric particularly humorous, but knowing that I’d gotten him to react like that made my cheeks glow. 

He finished packing the last of his things and slung his satchel bag over himself, starting to walk over to the door. I made sure to gather all my things, and walked to the door with him. He held it open for me, and I nodded my head in thanks, and he let it shut behind us. I turned around to lock it, using Blake’s keys and placing them in my bag securely, before looking at him. 

“Well, Spencer. It was nice meeting you, thank you for the lecture it was-” I start, but he interrupts me. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” He interjected, looking a little shy as he did. I smiled a little confusedly, wondering why he’d want to do so, but I gave him my answer, nonetheless. 

“I don’t have a car. I usually take the bus back to my apartment.” I explained, smiling softly. 

“The bus?” He says,  quirking his mouth to the side. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?” He replies, a hint of concern in his voice. 

I gave a little sigh, “I mean, it’s fine.” I say, trying to laugh a little. “I’ve done it before.” I add, attempting to ease the worry out of his voice. “It’s not that late.” I say, but he simply shakes his head. 

“No way.” He says, still adamant on this. “I.. I can drive you home, if you’d like?” He says, his words going slightly on the higher pitch as he rolled out his proposal, and I gave a small grin at that. 

“Really? If it’s a hassle I can seriously just take the bus. I wouldn’t want you to keep anyone waiting at home or-” 

He interjects again. “No hassle. I promise. I want to.” He pauses, before adding, “No one at home. You’re probably going to be the last person I see today.” He seems to blush at his final admission, and my eyes widen in interest. No girlfriend? Score. 

“Alright, Spencer.” I say, smiling again. “Lead the way.” 

He led me to his car, an old-fashioned Volvo and I couldn’t help myself from gawking at it.

“God, you have a cool car too? Is there anything about you that isn’t interesting?” I say, aware I was probably stroking his ego a bit, but honestly I wanted to. The man was just so damn intriguing, and every new bit of information I learned about him only made me want to unravel the whole of him. To truly know him, in and out. 

He laughed, using his keys to manually unlock the door. “Oh, trust me. I’m plenty boring. The car is probably my only saving grace.” He joked, and I laughed again as I got into the car. 

“Oh, I highly doubt that, but if you say so.” I say, sweetly, and adding a light tone of flirtatiousness in my tone. He seems to blush at this again, and I begin to think about the events of day. The stares in class, the perpetual rosy tint on his cheeks that had been there since we began our conversation, the way he joked and laughed at my (admittedly, unfunny) jokes. 

Oh god. Did he like me? 

Only one way to find out. 

As Spencer got in the car and began driving onto the main road, I looked at him, trying to put on my best, innocent smile. “So, you said you’re not going home to anyone?” I say, a softness to my tone, but an undeniable hunger in it as well. 

“Uh.” He responds, that damned blush coming on, strong. “Yes.” He replies, nodding as he keeps his eyes on the road. 

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I ask, a bit forwardly. 

Now he’s really blushing, stuttering a bit. “Oh, no. No girlfriend. Not much time, given the BAU and our schedule.” He said, almost clinically, and I nodded. 

“I mean, Blake has a husband.” I point out, a little smugly. 

“I guess.” He says, sighing a bit. “But, you know.” He says. He vaguely gestures to himself, and I look at him a little confused, tilting my head at him.

“Spencer, I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” I say, with a little giggle. “But trust me, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” I continue, before I can stop myself.

He looks at me, giving me a soft smirk, and a raise of his eyebrows. He didn’t look uncomfortable, and honestly looked just as thrilled as I did, and I knew that this night had a good chance of going the way I wanted it too. 

“Ah, you’re sweet.” Spencer replies, “But no. I just mean, I’m.. me. You know?” He says, trying to explain his (non-existent) shortcomings, but I just shake my head. 

“You don’t give yourself much credit, you know?” I attempt to say with that amorous tone from before, but it was more overcome with genuine respect and admiration. “You’re smart, funny and nice to be around, I mean.” I pause. “Did you not see the absolute crowd of girls around you after the lecture? Trust me, Spencer. I bet you’re more than easy to be with, even easier to like.” The words rush out of me, and I watch him tentatively for his reaction to my words. 

Instead of the sweet side smile he’d been offering me all night, he finally looked at me. The car had come to a stop at a red light, and his face was dangerously sexy as it was illuminated by the colored glow around us. 

“And what do you think?” Spencer says, in a low tone, making direct eye contact with me. 

I feel my stomach turn at the sudden directness in his words, his gaze nearly devouring me whole. I felt my mouth go dry and I swallow, trying to keep my tone steady. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice having a slight shake to it. 

“I mean, what do you think about me? Do you.. like me?” He says, licking his lips slightly, and the action causes the previous heat between my legs to come by in full force. 

“Oh, I mean.” I say, my previous confidence dissipating in an instant. “Well, yes, Dr. Reid. Everyone liked you today.” I say, trying to give more of a conservative answer now.

The man had a way of making me feel totally comfortable around him, and then flipping the switches, rendering me dumb and stuttering. Like I was now. 

“Oh, so I’m Doctor Reid now.” He says, clicking his tongue and saying the words with an air of lighthearted teasing, but I only bit my lip, hurriedly trying to explain myself. 

“I mean, it's your title.” I say, quickly, trying to justify myself. “I mean, you said it yourself- three pHDs. It’d be pretty shitty to just discard the years taken to achieve that. Um. Well. You’re a genius so probably not as long, but still! Calling you doctor is a sign of respect for your accomplishments and-”

“You're cute.” He interrupts, and I look back at him to see his eyes back on the road, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

The light around us turned green, and he started the car. I picked at my nails slightly, trying not to display any more signs of nervousness around him. I wanted to do something with him, at least, and that couldn't happen if I was a bumbling mess.

We drove in relative silence for the next few minutes, as I tried to gather my thoughts and possibly continue what we’d been building up to these past few hours, but a quick glance at the windows and the road we were on caused me to furrow my brows.

“Oh, this isn’t the way to my apartment.” I remark absentmindedly, looking at the window beside me, then in front. “I live near the train station, off east?” I offer, expecting him to fully make a turn back towards the direction I’d prompted him towards, but he didn’t even flinch, continuing on the more secluded road we’d entered.

“I know.” He said, glancing at me once more, actually applying more pressure to the gas pedal, causing us to go faster down the terrain. 

Okay, fuck. He was an FBI agent, so I didn’t have to worry about him murdering me, right? Wait, no, that’s stupid. He could probably get away with it. No! He’s Blake’s friend. Her coworker. For the goddamn FBI. He wouldn’t murder me. What the fuck was going on? 

I watched as Spencer pulled off to the side of the road, darkness surrounding us entirely. There weren't any other cars around, and it was silent in the car before I bit my lip, and started to speak.

“Did I.. offend you?” I ask, cautiously. No reply. I try again. “Why did we stop?” I add, trying to test the waters with him to see what he was thinking at that moment. 

“I thought I could wait before we got to your place, but I need to know now.” He replied, a sudden urgency in his voice. He turned towards me, watching me with a dark, intense gaze, similar to the one he'd given me in class that day. “Do you want me? Am I reading this wrong with you? Because if I am, we can completely forget it and I can drop you home but (Y/N)..” He paused. He made direct eye contact with me and once again I found myself wanting to swim in those dark eyes of his. “I want you.” He said, his voice low and raspy. 

I didn't give it much thought as I gave into my urges and surged towards his lips the best I could in the car. He responded immediately, bringing me closer with his hands and placing them on either side of my face, moving his lips against mine in a perfected rhythm. I used my fingers to quickly undo my belt, before climbing over the console to sit in his lap, getting closer without our lips disconnected once. He understood my actions and intentions immediately, pulling the seat back so I could rest more comfortably in his lap as we continued to kiss. 

I knotted my hands in his hair, giving an experimental tug which elicited a low moan from his mouth. I grinned against his lips and his hands moved from my face to his hips, bringing my clothed core to rest right against his growing bulge, which I immediately moved against. He let out a sharp breath as I did and broke the kiss. 

“Oh god. I’m sorry.” He said, breathlessly, hands on my hips. “I don’t know what came over me and-” 

He looked almost frantic, and incredibly guilty, so I quickly leaned in for a peck, stopping him mid sentence. I brought my hands to his shoulders to rub them soothingly, and he seemed to relax in my touch. 

“Spencer, calm down.” I say, nearly purring. “I want this.” I continue, rubbing patterns into his arms now. “Please.” 

“You’re Blake’s student.” He murmurs, using one of his hands to run through already messy brown curls. “What am I doing?” He says, almost to himself, looking ready to stop our tryst. 

I realize he was attempting to backtrack from this, and before he could continue his train of thought, I quickly leaned in from my position on his lap to start kissing his neck, trailing wet hot kisses down the column before whispering. “I’m not her student.” 

He pulls away to look at me, biting his lip. “What?” 

“I was her student last semester. I’m her teaching assistant now.” I smirk a little, licking my lips. “Technically not a student of hers.” 

He seemed to take in my words for a moment, and then something in him shifted, and he lunged at me again, kissing me with even more ferocity. He absolutely devoured me, his hands everywhere at this point. Caressing my sides, in my hair, on the small of my back. He brought me closer to him in any way he could, pressing our bodies against each other in a frenzied manner that caused the wetness between my legs to increase tenfold. 

“Wanted you.. as soon as I saw you.” He murmurs against my lips as we caught our breath in between kisses. “Knew it was wrong but..” 

I nodded. I understood. I was the same. 

“Fuck.” I moaned, as I felt the bulge resting below me get even harder. “Spencer, please. Don’t make me wait.” 

“Impatient.” He remarked, smirking, now beginning his own line of kisses down my neck, making me moan in pleasure. 

“Please.” I breathed out, my words being reduced to a squeak as he bit my neck gently, and my eyes fluttered shut. I was melting right in his damn hands, just like he wanted. 

His hands started to work at the buttons on my jeans, and I sighed in relief, lifting up my hips to allow them to be tugged off, leaving me in my underwear. His slender fingers traced the seam, leaving me shuddering with pleasure for the man in front of me. I tried once more, breathlessly murmuring at him.

“Please. Please.” 

“Use your words, baby.” He whispered, a devilish smirk on his face. I was too far-gone to care about what I looked like. I needed him so badly. 

“I need you to fuck me, now.” I say, clearer. “I need it, Spencer.” 

Something about me using his name, nearly moaning for the man when he’d barely touched me stirred something in him, and he started to undo his own slacks, freeing his cock from the confines of his briefs. I watched in fascination as it sprung out, and took in a sharp breath of air. I licked my lips before making eye contact with him, begging for us to get on with it at this point. He nodded, understanding my desperation and I smiled dumbly, beginning to lift my hips. He guided his cock to my heat and placed his free hand on the small of my back, slowly guiding me down his member.

I moaned softly as I felt him enter me, providing me with the most delicious stretch. I threw my head back in pleasure as he brought both his hands to my hips urging me down. 

“That’s it. God, fuck. You feel so good.” He moaned, which only made me want to take more of him. I lowered myself down a bit faster, and he released a heavy groan as his hips met mine. I whimpered slightly, his length filling me up perfectly. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered on my brow and I leaned my forehead, adjusting to his size. 

“You good?” He breathed out, using his hand to brush a piece of hair that had stuck itself on my brow, and I nodded. 

“Yeah, just.” I took a deep breath, before licking my lips, looking up before nodding.

I slowly lifted myself off, letting the head of his arousal nestle in me before I slammed back down, eliciting moans from both of us. He began to match my movements in tandem, thrusting up into me wildly. I held onto his shoulders, burying myself in his neck as we went faster. I could feel his tip hitting my cervix every time, causing me to cry out with pleasure every single time. 

I felt my orgasm rapidly approach, and Spencer seemed to sense this as well, considering the involuntary clenches I was giving around his cock. He let his hand slip down to where our bodies met and rubbed tight, fast circles around my clit, encouraging my release. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Come all over my cock. You can do it.” He breathed out, watching my every move with a hunger I'd never experienced before.  

It took a few more thrusts from him, combined with the insistent fingers at my bundle of nerves before my thighs began shaking, and I let out a chorus of moans, most of them sounding like strangled versions of his name as I coated his cock in my wetness, spurring him on to go faster inside me, bucking into me like a man possessed. 

He continued to jut into me wildly, until I felt him finish inside me, coating my walls with his release. He breathed shakily, holding me close to him as I slumped over his shoulder, my chest heaving up and down as I came down from the intensity of the previous moment. 

He affectionately removed me from his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, the tenderness and gentleness in his actions contrary to what we had just done. I pulled back with a dazed smile, taking in how pretty he looked. 

“If it’s alright, I’d love to take you out for coffee sometime.” He said, still a bit breathless, and a shy smile appeared on his face.

I giggled. He was literally still inside me, and was asking me out on a date with a boyish nervousness that made him even harder to resist. 

“For you Dr Reid? Anything.” 

ahh! writing this was a beast, and i imagined it to be longer but i got what i wanted in less words haha. i hope you guys liked this. any reblogs, comments, likes are so so appreciated i know it sounds totally stupid, but your guys' support means a lot lot lot!! thank you!!! <3

[infograins-tcs]

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[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 24- Candle

Warnings: established relationship, reference to getting together in college, very old married couple vibes, aging

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 767

When it happens, you’re in the bath of all places. You’re half-submerged, your eyes fluttering between open and closed as you relax to the sound of music playing from your phone. It’s been a long week, it’s getting late, this is exactly what you need.

And then the power goes out.

“Shit,” you curse, standing up and fumbling for a towel. “Honey?”

“In the kitchen!” Aaron’s voice rings out, and you wrap a bathrobe around yourself before emerging from the bathroom into the dark hallway. You follow it to the kitchen, lighting the way with the flashlight on your phone.

And then the phone dies. Because, of course it does.

In true Boy Scout fashion, Aaron is shakily illuminated by a pocket flashlight that he holds between clenched teeth while he rummages through the junk drawer. “‘Ookin’ ‘or ‘ands’,” he says around it, and even though you don’t know what he’s saying it becomes obvious a moment later when he pulls out a few half-melted candles and a small box of matches.

“Here, let me.” You secure the robe and take the flashlight from his mouth, aiming it while he lights the candles. “What happened?”

“Probably blew a breaker, if no one else’s power is out. I’ll talk to the neighbours in the morning and take a look at the fuse box,” he promises. “Go get dressed. I made dinner.”

You kiss him, grateful as ever for his willingness to take care of the around-the-house dirty work that you could learn to do, but would rather not. “Be right back.”

When you come back to the kitchen a few minutes later fully dressed, Aaron is setting two plates down next to a deck of cards. “The chicken wasn’t finished cooking. I thought it would be better not to risk it,” he says guiltily, and you snicker when you see that the only thing on the plates are salad and mashed potatoes.

“Better safe than sorry,” you agree, turning off the flashlight that had led you back from the bedroom. “And the cards?”

“That’s what you do when the power is out.” He says it like it’s a simple fact, like the idea of reading a book by candlelight or doing any sort of individual activity during a power outage is a bad idea. “Crib, or crazy eights?”

“Hmm…” you tap your chin as if you’re in thought, basking equally in the warm candlelight glow and the smile he gives you. “My crib skills are pretty rusty. And you’re a sore winner.”

“I am not,” he laughs as he takes a bite of salad, “But fine. Crazy eights, it is.”

While he deals out cards and you eat, you take the opportunity to study his face. The angle of the light enunciates his age, highlighting wrinkles and crow’s feet that you’ve never noticed until now.

The laugh lines around his mouth are proof of a happy life- the happiest you can give him, at least- and you’re just thinking to yourself that he looks handsome like this, a little older, more distinguished, when he looks up and catches your gaze.

“What are you looking at?” He asks, chuckling as he picks up his cards. 

“You.” Your response is simple, blunt, and the endearing lift of one side of his mouth- the smile you’ve gotten intimately familiar with over several years- makes an appearance and makes you want to say, fuck the card game, and kiss him stupid until the lights turn back on. “You look good.”

“Yeah? Well, you…” And here he does what you’re thinking about doing, leaning over to capture your lips against his own in a chaste kiss, “look better and more beautiful every day. Cut the deck.”

You listen to instruction, flipping up one card to start the game, still entranced by the age on Aaron’s face. It’s impossible to know when he started to look like this, when those lines developed. In your mind’s eye, he’s still the boyishly handsome college senior who asked you out on your first day of junior year.

Maybe that’s what growing old- no, older, because you’re certainly not old and you aren’t too far behind him- is, you muse to yourself as you flip through the cards he’s dealt for you. 

Appreciating each other, loving each other through all of it, and- no matter his age, physically, mentally, or in experience- never losing sight of the boy you fell in love with.

The candles flicker on, and the game begins, and you think that you’re a little bit more in love than you were an hour ago.

Fluffy Feb masterlist | < Prev Day | Next Day >

Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre @nd264 @hotchnerxnegan1017 (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

[cooltmoney95]

Meet The Junior Spies

Cosmo Bulgolyubov (11)- Son of Oswald, Moonstone, & Voltannia. He is the leader of the Junior Spies. He is a strong-willed and stubborn young boy who wants to be a spy just like his father. He is very protective of his friends and family and is always the first to step in to stand up for anyone in need. He is very outgoing and adventurous, and is always looking for a thrill. But being the leader of the group, he knows when to keep that side of him in check so that he can look out for his friends and family. He is the the type of friend who will hype you up when you're down and always know how to give advice and offer help whenever and however he can. But despite this, Cosmo tends to be reluctant to ask for help himself due to his stubbornness. But certain friends of his are always willing to make him swallow his pride and let them come to his aide. He and Olga are the only ones in the group who knew Cetus prior to training under Oswald. Since the three of them grew up together.

Olga Bulgolyubov (11)- Daughter of Oswald, Moonstone, & Voltannia and Cosmo's twin sister. A shy and quiet girl who has difficulty standing up for herself and is easily frightened. But she does want to try and help others despite her timid personality. Out of all the junior spies, Olga is the most sensitive of the group. And is the one who's the most in tune with her emotions.

Bonbon Oceania (11)- Daughter of Meelo Bubblegum and Hesperia Oceania. She is a happy, bubbly, and excitable girl who loves to bake and throw parties. Much like her father, she has a habit of being ditzy and childish, making it hard for her to focus on important tasks. Bonbon owns several sweet cannons, but her favorite is her sprinkle and birthday cake canons. And doesn't think twice about using them even in the worst possible times (much to the annoyance of the people around her.).

Triton Sealungs (11)- Son of Marinus & Nerites Sealungs. Despite neither of his fathers serving under any sort of military or royal guard (nor having any espionage experience.) he always had an interest in becoming a spy ever since heard stories about Oswald & his friends and their adventures back when he was younger. By all accounts, Triton is often described as being a mini version of Nerites. He's sweet, excitable, and has a natural sense of curiosity. He also has the tendency to crush on almost any boy he meets and often tries too hard to impress them (which always ends with him making a fool out of himself.). He is also a bit of a jokester, and always takes the opportunity to crack a joke at any opportunity (Though it rarely ever gets a laugh out of people.).

Marie Fly (11)- Daughter of Aspen & Helia. She is a stern, cold and strict little girl who takes her training very seriously. She is disturbingly skilled with daggers, shuriken stars, and spears, and is working her way up to wielding a katana outside of her spy training. She comes off as rather intimidating and anti social on first impressions (And has no qualms with playing into said first impressions.). She does have love for her friends and family. But doesn't really show in the most conventional ways. Marie has a strong belief in honesty, and thus has developed a tendency to be very blunt and straight forward with people. Even if she ends up hurting their feelings in the process. It is a common belief that she could possibly become the Flutter Johansen of her generation when she's older.

Soleil Fly (11)- Son of Aspen & Helia and Marie's twin brother and the child prodigy/boy genious of the group. He is a a gifted and intelligent boy with a major sassy streak and has a habit of making snarky comments. But he means well. While his sister is more into physical combat, Soleil is more of a special/magic specialist. He is often seen practicing a wide variety of spells and techniques from whatever spellbook he's reading at the time. He may or may not experiment on people on occasion (spoiler alert: he totally does! Lol). Which does get him in trouble at times.

Vesper Stix (11)- Daughter of Jet Breezemaker & Sugarina Stix. A confident and sassy little girl who's a bit of a brat and a drama queen. And tends to look down on those she seems beneath her. But does have a more caring side as well. She's just as skilled of a dancer as her mother, and combined with her air nymph abilities, she is able to pull off many great performances on stage. Is the most graceful of the junior spies and wants to learn how to be a spy to not only how to incorporate it into her dancing, but also because she genuinely wants to help people (though she'll never admit to it.).

Falcon Redwing (11)- Son of Cardinalla Redwing and Spike Needles. An arrogant and competitive boy who often acts as his own hype man and likes to make himself a bigger threat than he actually is. Is the most boisterous of the junior spies and is the group's resident loudmouth. However underneath his inflated ego, Falcon is terribly insecure and has doubts about his actual strength. But he would rather die than admit that. Is a major Kings Crew stan. Particularly of Lars, whom he hopes to be like when he's older.

Hey y'all! Well, I finally got this meet post for the Junior Spies done. Fun fact: I originally had planned to post this in 2022 alongside their debut fic. But personal circumstances forced me to put this on hold for a while. So I left it in my drafts until I was motivated to get back to it again.

Lucky for me I was. And hopefully I can keep this going too.

[ushidoux]

Eat - Osamu x Reader

Summary: Osamu realizes he’s in love with a stranger who frequents his shop. (~1.4k words)

Warnings: fem!reader, sfw, fluff. 

A/N: This song always gets me in my feelings. I feel like Osamu really shows his love through food.

Song: Eat by Zion.T

---

Hello

It’s not easy, you’re busy

You wonder why you have to go this far

There’s so many damn things they want

(Yes)

Miya Osamu watched you carefully as you sat at one of two high tables of the small restaurant in the corner, staring out the window and trying desperately not to cry.

He wasn’t exactly sure when - when his ears had started to perk up to the sound of the door chiming as you wandered in somewhere around 6pm on Mondays and Wednesdays, or when he had started to memorize your order (two salmon onigiri lightly dusted with furikake, sometimes a warm cup of plain green tea), or when he started looking forward to your smile.

He wasn’t exactly sure why today was different, but as he thought back, he realized he may have been too enamored by your brilliant presence to notice the very gradual, almost imperceptible fade of the light in your eyes.

But it didn’t matter when or how, only what was. 

Osamu was self aware enough to realize that he had developed a crush on you, as you stood out from the many customers who frequented his shop day to day.

And today you were hurting, and he wanted with all his heart to provide you some comfort, but the truth was that to you, he was just the onigiri seller no matter how sweet or kind you spoke to him when you arrived.

He wasn’t sure you remembered his name but he remembered yours when you’d become enough of a regular to introduce yourself by name. 

He didn’t want you, the customer with the beautiful name, to be upset.

You want a break

It’s so noisy

It’s all so annoying, right?

Wanna go home, right?

(You are home)

But you want to go home

 It was embarrassing for him really, Osamu mused some nights as he closed up shop after having let loose his two energetic junior employees about an hour earlier. He knew his brother would mock him endlessly if he ever brought it up, or at least push him to do something about his fascination with you. 

You’re almost as good-looking as me, just ask her out, Atsumu would reply without a second thought, and that imagined scene made him almost snort with a mixture of amusement and irritation. A practical answer to a simple issue.

But it wasn’t so simple, the soft affection he’d developed for you. Something about you was distant and pure and somehow pure solely because of that distance, and he felt that a word to you out of the realm in which words like ‘Please enjoy your meal’ and ‘Visit us again’ lay would taint the sanctity of that barely-there connection between the two of you.

But watching you cry like this, alone and in his view made him feel his heart ache - in fact he felt heartless - and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Then take this song out like eat it like chocolate

Even if you’re tired, make sure you eat breakfast and lunch

Then I’ll compliment you later

You had been coming in for months. usually alone but not always, grinning widely as you greeted him and pointing enthusiastically at the menu as you ordered, but noticeably, if only barely so, weary from a long day of work. He’d never asked you where you worked but he assumed it was some type of office - your blouses were plain and professional, your hair neat and your makeup light.

A simple beauty, accented by what was within, just like onigiri.

Osamu had motivation enough in his day to day, but whenever he thought of you coming in those two days a week, his cheeks warmed just slightly, and maybe he worked even harder as the clock approached 6pm because you would come in at any moment.

He remembered when you’d tried your first meal and told him directly, your face glowing with unadulterated, enthusiastic pleasure, that it had been the best thing you’d ever tasted.

He didn’t always care for praise, but it was different when coming from you.

What if he also one day had the opportunity to praise you?

Miss you

I like you a lot

I want to hug you more

Love, love, it’s like love

Maybe I really love you

Was it too much to tell you now that whatever it was you were sad about, he wanted to make it better?

Would you be embarrassed that in a burst of unabashed confidence (because maybe he and his brother really were twins), he was coming to sit across from you and breach the understanding that you were barely acquaintances?

You startled so very slightly as you heard the seat shift in front of you, and you turned slowly to face him. You couldn’t exactly read his expression now - unlike you, his feelings were not so clearly etched in his features and his eyes did not swim with tears.

He silently moved the untouched plate of food in front of you that you’d requested out of habit aside in favor of a different, colorful plate of rice balls.

“Can you try this for me, ___-san?”

His arms crossed over his chest and he looked at you attentively. You knew he was trying to avoid addressing the fact that you were weeping in the middle of his restaurant.

“Haha, a-are you sure? I… don’t have very refined taste,” you joked, but your voice trembled just a little too much to successfully convey humor. His eyes on you were intense but warm, like the glowing coals of a fire and suddenly you felt scrutinized in a way you hadn’t before, but not uncomfortably so. Something like being truly seen, unlike the way you had been feeling recently.

Reflexively, you wiped off some tears from your face out of embarrassment and couldn’t help a sniffle, and he quickly handed you a tissue.

“I want to hear from you especially.”

When you’re hungry

Take this song out like a morning apple and eat it

Even if you’re tired, make sure you eat breakfast and lunch

Then you’ll sleep better later at night

A smile unintentionally spread over Osamu’s face as you finished the onigiri in just a few bites, because you were no longer crying and instead consumed in a genuine appreciation of the food, your eyes closed as you focused only on your sense of taste.

“This is incredible-,” you started, but once you opened your eyes and saw the pink tinge to his face and the way his mouth parted just slightly as he lost himself admiring you, your own face began to flush. 

You remembered your big fat crush on the shop owner sitting in front of you, the one you didn’t act on because you couldn’t risk getting rejected and losing your favorite place for comfort food after work (especially after these days work was so awful).

As you sat together in an awkward silence, you wondered if he felt the same way too.

It’s hard

Because it’s beautiful

Recognize me

Don’t glance at me

Love me, me

Don’t miss it

 “What else?” He finally asked, breaking the silence. You looked at Osamu with surprise, confused by what he meant.

“It was good enough that you smiled even though you were sad, ____-san.”

His voice was teasing now and you didn’t have a witty answer for him, too distracted by how easily and comfortably your name rolled off his tongue, as though you were old friends. He never smiled this widely before, you realized, and you wondered what it would take to get to see this smile again.

He waited for a few moments for you to answer as you sat flustered, then sighed airily before standing up and clearing the table.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he decided, taking mercy on the myriad of emotions he saw running through you. Now confident that he’d solidified that strange formless connection with you without fear of you running from him, he patted your shoulder with his free hand before walking off.

“But I’ll make you something special the next time you come by,” he called before he disappeared into the kitchen, and you thanked the stars that he couldn’t possibly know how much your heart fluttered.

Even if you’re tired, make sure you eat breakfast and lunch

Then you’ll sleep better later at night

For today, this was enough. Osamu relished in the fact that he’d made you smile as he closed shop for another night.

He wouldn’t be too greedy today, he couldn’t.

But maybe next time you came with an empty stomach, he’d try to fill your heart as well.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-20: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“Let’s let bygones be bygones. Now that you’ve returned to the family, you ought to uphold your mission.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

It was already late at night by the time the celebration ended.

Stepping into my apartment, I off-handedly turned the TV on. The results of the Warson Prize Contest were currently being broadcasted. I saw my utterly crestfallen face flash across the screen.

An’an’s incoming message snapped me out of my depressing reverie.

❖☆———————————★❖

An'an (SMS): Let’s go out for a round of hotpot before you leave the country again. We’ll order a gazillion dishes and eat till we forget all our troubles!

MC (SMS): Then I want milk tea and barbecue. You’re gonna have to accompany me on a food trip all over Guangqi City!

An'an (SMS): Huh? But, don’t you need to go back?

MC (SMS): No. I intend to stay here… It’s actually quite a long story so I’ll tell you about it another time.

❖☆———————————★❖

After a short while of feeling in the dumps, I pushed away all the sadness and dissatisfaction I felt, locking it deep inside my heart.

Though my lone return back to this country didn’t make for a good start this time, I refuse to doubt my own ability. Besides, I still have friends here who support me.

It is only with this mindset that I can welcome a brand new day tomorrow.

I just turned off the TV and focused on packing the stuff from the competition away while thinking about the next step I should take.

MC: My hopes for winning the championship and making my own brand have all but fizzled out into nothing. What should I do next…?

Suddenly, my phone vibrated to life atop the table. An unknown number was displayed on the screen.

???: Hello. I am Mya, calling from Warson’s Design Hub.

Mya!?

MC: Hello… May I ask why you’re calling me?

Mya: You left a pretty big impression on me during the Warson Prize Contest. You’re pretty good for a greenhorn.

Mya: Although you still have a long way to go in terms of your designs, I can’t deny that you’re gifted.

Mya: The Warson Brand, which is currently looking to be refurbished, requires new blood.

MC: You mean to say…

I felt my heart race, thudding erratically.

Mya: Miss (Y/n), as a representative of the Warson Group…

Mya: I’d like to invite you to join us at Warson’s Design Hub as a Junior Fashion Designer.

Mya: HR will be emailing you the official offer letter in a moment. Please consider our offer seriously. For Fashion Designers like us, our starting point is of the utmost importance.

Mya: It’s a rare opportunity for greenhorns like you to be able to stand on the shoulders of a giant as they proceed onwards along their path.

Mya: And Warson is that giant. The giant of the Fashion Industry.

❖☆———————————★❖

I opened my email after the call to check. I’d indeed gotten an offer letter from them.

My name was written beneath the golden logo. It was just as Mya had told me earlier. Warson was really offering me the position of Junior Fashion Designer.

I read every word and sentence thoroughly, only for my eyes to pause on the signature.

MC: Warson Group, Evan Lu…

Before all of this, it wasn’t as if I never thought of joining a company. I simply wanted to try a little bit harder on my own, in hopes of establishing my personal brand.

However, I realized after this contest that my skills weren’t as mature and well-developed as I’d thought. There were still many things that I had to learn and understand.

And perhaps, Warson was just what I needed to help me cross the bridge.

Even if I am unsure whether I can thread safely upon this sudden path that has opened before me, I’m willing to give it a try and aim for higher heights.

❖☆———————————★❖

Basked under the same moonlight, in a room of a mansion located on the other end of the City… The bright lights were suddenly extinguished.

A middle-aged man was kneeling on a knee in the centre of the room, bowing his head respectfully before an imposing, yet dignified, old man.

???: What is the situation?

Lu Ting: …The Purplite bird in District 5 has disappeared, and tag HCP18407 is still being tracked.

A heavy sigh sounded. It was only after a long while that the voice continued speaking once more.

???: If such a thing happens again, then there will no longer be any need for you to return here.

❖☆———————————★❖

Lu Ting took his leave of the room. The wavering candlelights on both sides of the corridor elongated his shadow, casting upon the wall, where it trembled with restrained fury.

Footsteps echoed through the hallway as another figure passed by him.

Lu TIng: You shouldn’t have returned here.

Evan made no move to reply, his smile deepening.

❖☆———————————★❖

He pushed open those heavy doors, heading towards the hunched figure, and the nightscape reflected behind.

???: Let’s let bygones be bygones. Now that you’ve returned to the family, you ought to uphold your mission.

???: You will help Lu Ting with the nameplate.

Evan: Consider it done.

???: This is our last chance. We must not err.

His body gradually disappeared, yet his voice still lingered, reverberating through the room.

Evan stood silently at the centre of the room, an iciness creeping up, masking his features.

Evan made no move to reply, his smile deepening.

Evan: Last chance…?

❖☆———————————★❖

A blue-ish purple bird flapped its wings outside the window, soaring up high, above the highest point of the City before dissipating into mist.

All the people who were asleep were unable to hear its shrieking cry.

A sliver of scarlet peeks out from amongst the dense clouds in the sky.

A new day is approaching.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-19 Light) / (Chapter 1-19 Night) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-1)

[todoscript]

10, Tamaki Amajiki, fluff or smut

Support

prompt: 10. “You really shouldn’t touch that… I told you.” genre: fluff.  pairing: amajiki tamaki x fem!reader word count: 2.0k+ warnings: mentions of insecurities.

author’s note: This is longer than a drabble should be but I couldn’t control myself. Also, this is my first time writing for Tamaki so I hope I did well portraying him. Big thank you to @burnedbyshoto for being my beta reader as well as recommending the title for this work!

Tamaki Amajiki has experienced an extraordinary amount of circumstances in his life so far that not many boys his age could even imagine to go through. He’s fought crooks, robots, supervillains, hell even the yakuza, and has managed to come out in one piece every time and claim victory. Of course, he has his training and studies from a prestigious hero school to thank for equipping him with the tools he needs to combat such peril. However, no amount of training or experience could truly prepare him for this new, menacing adversary.

A classroom full of school children.

Being a trio backed up by the honorable title of The Big 3, Mirio, Nejire, and Tamaki were given the opportunity to represent U.A. High School as they speak to classrooms of elementary students next week. This was a chance to talk with the younger generation and encourage them to think about a possible career as a crime fighter, while also ensuring that their futures were in safe hands thanks to heroes like them.

As a shy, introverted person whose solution in these social situations is to envisage everyone in the form of vegetables, Tamaki was not keen on this idea. Kids were boisterous and contained way too much energy in their little bodies to handle, making it much harder to conjure them as potatoes in his head. Not only that, but these days they’ve grown judgemental and full of themselves. They boast about their newly developed quirks amongst each other at playgrounds, already comparing their abilities at such an early age. All in all, his fragile spirit cannot handle interacting with these miniature monsters.

Nejire and Mirio seemed much better suited for this task. They glowed with charisma, and their energetic personalities naturally drew people to them. No doubt, the kids will especially be fond of how receptive they are to their young and frisky attitudes. Tamaki felt he just paled in comparison behind their light; however, his two friends would not allow him to deem himself that way.

“C’mon Tamaki, you have so many things going for you!” assures an optimistic Mirio during lunch as Tamaki sulks in the thought of meeting the kids. “You have an amazing quirk! I bet if you show it off, the kids will love it.”

True, the ability to manifest certain animal attributes depending on whatever he digests could tide the youngsters into liking him. But at the same time, would they really be captivated that easily? Aren’t kids at that age more into flashy things like lasers and explosions? No one wants to see him with cow hooves and clam hands, not with Nejire spiraling concussive vitality from her palms and Mirio shooting right up out of solid ground.

“I… I don’t know if the kids would be into my quirk…” he murmurs, eyes averting to his twiddling thumbs beneath the table.

“Amajiki, if you’re aiming to be a Pro Hero, you can’t let a bunch of ten-year-olds deter you!” chides Nejire. She forks a bit of her strewn pasta.

“Easy for you to say, Hadou. You’re bubbly and approachable. Everyone always comes to you. Meanwhile, the freshmen were intimidated by me before I even spoke a word.” Tamaki broods at his plate of food that grows colder during the conversation, but he can’t muster an appetite to eat it. “I can’t imagine how the kids would feel.”

Nejire chews on her noodles with a pitched hum. The trill ceases the moment her eyes light up, an idea flickering in her head.

“Say, how about you visit ____ at support during hero training today? I bet she can hook you up with some flashy gear that they’ll like.”

The utter of your name sends Tamaki’s body rigid.

“Oop, I think you touched something you shouldn’t have, Nejire,” Mirio gestures to the steely expression written over their friend’s face.

Dealing with children was one thing, but you were another matter entirely.

Being enrolled at U.A. since their very first year, the senior students of the hero and support departments coincided together. They drew out each other’s potentials—whether it was fighting on the battlefield or producing new innovative gadgets in workshops. Naturally, within that time, Tamaki developed a fondness for you.

You were a spirited individual driven by your passion for creating and bringing out the very best out of everyone you worked with, which included himself. With him, you were patient, never one to discourage or berate him despite his nervous and awkward nature that he viewed as probably a displeasure to work with. You took all his strengths and weaknesses to heart, and created the right tools to make him shine in triumph.

If Tamaki is the dead night, then you are the moon and stars that lit up his dark twilight, enlightening the world with his true potential.

However, the boy has never brought up his feelings to you, driven back by the thought you didn’t reciprocate, or wanted to focus more on your future as a craftswoman rather than prattle with romance. To bring you up in his dilemma of having to interact with mere elementary school kids is the last thing he wants to do.

“I don’t—”

“C’mon Tamaki! This is the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone!” Nejire enthusiastically waves a finger ready to describe her expertly thought-out plan. “You come to ____ asking for some of her gear, the ordeal brings you closer together, and then boom, you naturally confess your feelings and then impress those kids next week!” She sits with a proud, lifted head and hands on her hips after explaining her master proposal.

“Hm that’s quite an ambitious plan, Nejire,” chuckles Mirio.

“Way too ambitious if you ask me,” Tamaki scowls, uncertainty forming in his features.

“Confessing to someone you’ve liked for so long doesn’t come that easily…”

Nejire pouts, spinning the last remnants of her pasta around her fork. “Well I say you should still think it over! If anything, the new gear could help.”

And so he does. Lunch soon passes in the next flutter of an eyelash. During an academic class, Tamaki ponders the idea a bit more until it’s eventually time for their hero training course.

Lo and behold, he’s standing right outside the development studio with wickedly narrow brows and contemplating eyes, acting like if he glared at the door hard enough, all his problems would be solved. With his feet cemented into the ground, he doesn’t budge for the next couple of minutes. His mind bounces between his predicament and the possible solutions at hand, reaching to a standstill. Ultimately, he knows nothing will come out of not making a decision, so after another second of thought, he decides to progress.

The steel door jars open at a slide of the handle and Tamaki ganders at the messy workspace before him. He navigates through a mess of gizmos and gadgets with careful hesitant steps.

“____? Are you in here? I, um, need your help with something,” he calls, tentative voice drawing out across the room.

“Tamaki? Is that you?” He hears the distance between your voices, “Sorry, I’ll be with you in just a minute…”

He nods to no one in particular, standing in place as his fingers play with the hem of his white, hooded cape. Too late to turn back now, he thinks. While he dawdles, he can’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, eyeing the vast amounts of meticulously crafted contraptions and accessories all developed in a high school workshop.

The support course sure is something else, Tamaki regards the creativity such students have, being able to construct so many complicated gadgets. He doesn’t know how you do it, but supposes that was another charm about you that he admired so much.

Suddenly, a whirring noise catches his attention, and he turns in its direction. He spots a device flaring in place on a table across from him, the widget shifting and flashing into an assortment of colors that isn’t comfortable for his liking.

“Uh… ____… C-Can you come out real quick? I think there’s something wrong with this thing,” he warns, tone rising with every dissonant sound the device continues to resonate.

“OK Tamaki, I’m done. What do you need— Whoa!”

Your words are cut off by Tamaki, pulling you to him using vines sprouted from his fingers, thanks to the vegetables he managed to eat today. Confused, you brace against his chest as the evident droning whir increases in volume. Tamaki holds a wavering hand over the device.

“Ah wait, Tamaki, you really shouldn’t touch that!” you cautioned. However, Tamaki’s entire hand transforms into a giant clam that quickly envelopes the contraption just as it flares and reaches its peak. He contains the small burst of energy within his shell with a wince, preventing any catastrophe from befalling on both of you and the work studio.

“Hehe, told you,” you shakily laugh off which makes him sigh as he releases you from his steady grasp.

“____, you could’ve gotten severely hurt,” he chides.

“But I didn’t because of you, so thank you very much, Suneater,” you say with a grin. Tamaki slightly tugs his hood down to obscure the growing blush on his cheeks that threaten to expose his flustered reaction to your gratitude.

“It... It was nothing,” he manages. You nod in response before approaching the faulty contraption, shifting your gaze side-to-side to inspect the damage.

“Sorry about that, I think this is one of Hatsume’s inventions from Class 1-F.”

You toss it into a pile of other defective equipment, relaying in your mind to reprimand your junior later.

“Anyways, is there anything I can do for you, Tamaki? You said something about needing my help?” Ah, right, he nearly forgot. He slowly nods.

“I need some new gear…” he admits. A light of passion infused with curiosity dazzles in your eyes.

“What for? Going to face a new powerhouse crime organization next week? Ooh, maybe another gangster threat in the criminal underground? Or perhaps you need something to combat a future natural disaster?” you surmise, but Tamaki only avoids your gaze at all your grand guesses when comparing it to the true reason:

“I need something to impress these kids I’ll be talking to next week…” he mutters under his breath, as if embarrassed.

“Huh?” You knit your eyebrows, muddled by the answer. Tamaki’s head imbues with self-conscious, anxious thoughts about what you must be thinking. However, your response to his predicament is one that leaves him more perplexed than you are.

“Why? You don’t need any gear to impress anyone. You’re fine the way you are,” you say without a single pause or hint of doubt in your tone. Tamaki pauses, grabbing his bearings at your statement before eyeing his spread out hands, unsure.

“But I’m so plain, not flashy or charismatic like Mirio and Hadou… Would kids like me the way I am?” he urges the question with uncertainty, keeping his stare on his calloused palms.

Would you like me the way I am?

You reach out for his hands, holding your own over them and bringing his wavering gaze to peer into yours.

“Tamaki, the kids will like you for who you are as long as you’re passionate about what you’re aiming to do. And that’s to save everyone and become a hero, right?” you assure, slightly tilting your head.

“You protected me without even a thought in your mind just now. That makes you heroic and courageous,” you continue, “Your nervous and shy personality are just small little quirks about you that make you who you are. You don’t need to change that.”

A smile of pure adoration forms on your lips. “Plus it’s what I like so much about you.”

Tamaki’s eyes lift in realization at your statement, his hands slowly gripping yours from below like he may not have heard you correctly.

“You like me?” he repeats, and you nod your head.

“I’ve liked you since our first year, silly.” You giggle at the stunned look etched on his face.

“I…” his words are caught in his throat for a second over the growing developments, but with every ounce of his being, he musters them out, his tone laced in only warmth and affection for you.

“I’ve liked you too, ___, I-I always have. You were so dazzling that I couldn’t help but let these feelings for you grow, and now, I’m glad I got to say them to you.” He finally admits to all the emotions stirred inside him for the past three years, and your smile widens. You inch forward, planting a small peck on his cheek that renders him a flustered mess from the surprise.

“Alright, go show those kids who Suneater is next week!”

Nejire’s plan was a success, after all.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

The Path of Life is Filled with Zany Bards 1-3

Masterlist

Because all my motivation is here right now here are chapters 1-3 of this fic I started on Archive, I can post here as well if anyone is interested in reading past this (currently working on ch 4, even though i should be studying.) 

“Y/N are you scared”

“Scared of what Dalia?”

“Scared of meeting your new husband”

You took a pause from fretting with your hair in the looking glass to turn towards your little sister. Dalia was the youngest of the L/N household, every bit as bright and bubbly as a child could be. She was not exceptional in any way for her 7 years, she was firmly on the mark. She was also spoiled beyond belief. You could not say truthfully that you hadn’t contributed to that. It was wrong to say but Dalia was your  favorite sister. Her being near 10 years your junior you could not but help letting her get away with a bit more. In a way you were a bit jealous of the life Dalia got to lead. Playing, dancing, fluttering about without care. Those were activities you were never given the opportunity for.  You had had to learn trading routes, material prices, become the knowledgeable woman of business. By the age of 11 your father had given you small amounts of material and stock to do with as you pleased. You made him quite a sum of money on what little you had been given. You had become your father’s confidant, his little business partner. You had suspected that when he died he would give over run of his assets to you.

Judging by the fact that you were now the bride in a wedding that your parents had arranged your suspicions were wrong.

You took in Dalia’s little pink dress. The layers and layers of skirts puffed up around her to look as if her torso was stuck in a big pink ball. She bore a flower crown of white carnations. You knew the same were also weaved into your hair. Her hands were in dainty white gloves and her shoes lay in the corner,  abandoned until the very last moment when she had to put them on.

‘Yes’ you thought ‘Dalia is quite spoiled, but unfortunately she will have to carry out the same fate that I do’

You sighed and smiled, leaning to hold her face—careful not to stain you lace gloves with the rouge on her cheeks.

“No Dalia” you started softly “I’m not scared, everything in life has it’s reasons, be them good, bad or otherwise. I cannot begin to wrap my head around it all. So I take what I am given in stride and remember my humor always”

Dalia seemed to contemplate your answer for a moment and then beamed. Buying the lie without much pause. She went to bury herself round your waist, however you had to stop her from burying her head. Lest her face stain your dress and your dress wilt her flowers.

In reality you were terrified. You were about to be married to a man you had never met. Who came from a family you had never met. Who were nobles in a land you had only known of for trading purposes. And that was what all of this boiled down to, the money. Your father had had his eyes on land owned by the Pankratz family for quite some time. He was looking to develop the wild land for the growing city it was near. However this land was tied into the families inheritance and they had adamantly refused him to buy or make any partnership deals. Hence your marriage to one of there younger—if not there youngest—son Julian.

The family had been quite receptive to the arrangement. Your father being a Marquess meant you were a Countess. By marrying you the Pankratz boy would be moved up to Earl status, your father would get his land and all would be right and proper in the world. The men’s world anyway.

As Dalia extracted herself you thought a silent prayer. That she would grow strong enough to deal with this when it was her time. To deal with the hurt of being traded much like how your Father taught you how to trade materials goods. To deal with the knowledge that you are now stuck with whoever is at the end of the aisle forever. Be he sweet, horrid, temperate, prone to drink or women you were stuck with him with no say in the matter. If you were afraid in this moment, you could only imagine that Dalia. Sweet, delicate, precious Dalia, would be absolutely aghast.  

A knock resounded from the door, your mother clad in a dark mauve trotted in. Her steps small but sure. You had always seen your mother as a steady but distant woman. Her I’s always dotted, her t’s always crossed. Never a hair out of place, always on the precipice of happiness but never quite able to jump off. Sitting here now you could understand the sentiment a bit more.  

“Dalia get your shoes on, your siblings are all lined up ready to walk out.” Your mother tutted as Dalia ran stuff her shoes on. As they exited your father entered, his face a well worn memory in your mind that now stirred mixed emotions. On the one hand he was always your confidant, more a friend than a father. He trusted you with things he didn’t trust his other children with, let you in on his troubles. You were privilege to a side of him that very few were. On the other hand he was now trading you off. Letting you be put into the arms of a man he did not know would treat his daughter as the flower he always told said you were.

‘Perhaps it doesn’t matter’ you thought giving him a reluctant smile ‘after today I am a wife first, a daughter second’.

You stood up giving yourself one last glance before reaching for your vail. You father’s hand stopped you as you went, turning you around to face him.

“Y/N my flower…” the word seemed to choke him up slightly.

“I know this isn’t what you had envisioned, and to be truthful it wasn’t-“

You put your hand up to silence him

“I know Papa, you don’t have to say anything”

He seem to fight something in his mind, his eyes resting resentfully in the corner before smiling.

“I know I’m not supposed to tell you but your dowery,” he reached down to grab your hands.

“I calculated everything you have made for me over the years, it will be waiting for you when you reach the estate.” His eyes were filled with unspoken emotion

“I just don’t want you to ever think that I was trying to use you flower”

The contradictory nature of the statement being said in the current situation was not lost on you, but it took a backseat to the thought of what your father had just admitted. It also took a backseat to the strange fact he had thrown in.

“The estate?” you questioned.

The smile on his faced reached his eye finally.

“ The Estate on the way to Oxenfurt, the one we always spent summers in. No Y/N no protests I insist. Your mother has been wanting to find a new summer home more south for ages and you always loved that house more than anyone. The money will be waiting for you at the- no your estate. Now!” your fathers sudden change of tone stuck you out of the dazed you were in. His hand reaching to pull the forgotten vail over your face.

“We have a wedding to attend”.

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

The hall was perfumed in the scent of flowers, so much so that the smell would have been overpowering to you had you been able to pay attention to it. You nerves rattled your stomach and a headache was starting to come on, from the smell the stress or both you couldn’t decide. You could hear the murmurs and indistinct chatter floating in from underneath the double doors in front of you. Looking down at your shoes was all you could do to keep from shuffling them. Time had seemed to fly when you were getting prepped and preened and yet the minutes before you were to walk out seemed to stretch like an eternity. You were sure that your lips were swollen from worrying them so much.

The chatter lowered as the procession began to play. You knew your siblings were walking out right now. Noses high, proud to show off their regal profiles to the guests. When the murmurs turned to small coos an “aww’s” you knew Dalia was walking out, throwing petals out of her basket as a welcoming for you.

You took one last deep breath, picked up your head and began to walk.

The doors opened for you in a dramatic spin as the crowd rose to there feet. Each step was crisp as the hard soles of your shoes clicked on the floor. The fabric of your vail obscured your vision but not enough that you couldn’t make out the rows of seating to your left and right. Or the two figures waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

You made your way to the end of the aisle much too soon and turned to face your future husband. The vail muddled his features but you could still make out the roundness of his face framed by the chestnut tresses hanging by his ears. His kind eyes seemed to see past the cover of the vail and find your soul. The cornflower pupils holding a gentleness in them that you could only hope was an indicator of his demeanor as well.

The official was speaking but you could not focus even if you tried. You were too caught up in trying to keep your expression schooled. The thought that the very purpose of the vail was to hide your face did not cross your mind.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz do you take this woman to be your wife?”

His response was automatic, giving off the air of a man who has certainly practiced his lines.

“I do”

You responded the same.

Rings exchanged, vows committed, it came time for him to lift the vail and seal the union with a kiss. His fingers were long and calloused, strange for the son of any kind of wealth, as he reached for the vail. You could only hope that he found at least tolerable, or if he did not that he was at least a fair actor for your sake. Under normal circumstances you could take rejection of near any kind well.  At this moment however your nerves were frayed beyond belief.

He looked upon you and there was the smallest hint of relief on his countenance. He leaned in, the callouses of his fingers brushing against your cheek guiding you into the kiss. It was a brief thing, chaste in every manner of the word, but it felt like a punch in the gut all the same.

The deed was done.

You were now Y/N L/N- Pankratz.

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

You walked with your new husband- Julian- hand in hand down the aisle to small claps and cheers from your respective families. A carriage awaited you outside. The thought of going to your family’s summer estate brightened your mood considerably. The estate has housed you summer after summer for many a year, and now it would house you year-round. The walls having seen you struggle and triumph in the most grand of ways. Painting the memories in your mind with a golden hue.

You could only hope Julian would find the warm walls of the home appealing.

All of your belongings were already loaded into the coach or had been sent to the estate ahead of time. You knew it was to be your honeymoon destination, however you did not know it was to be your new home as well. You still felt conflicting feels with your father, but this one last act of kindness he has shown you soothed your soul if only just.

You got settled in the carriage, Julian sitting beside you, rather than across. As the horses started up you both could not but help looking out your respective windows. What was going on in your new husband’s head you could not say, but for you, you were trying to memorize the landscape around you. The lush trees and moss that you had trotted by so casually seemed so significant now. And trying to remember them seemed so much more appealing than trying to get to know your new husband.

After about 2 hours or so and several scene shifts out the window your head had begun to get irritated. The pins holding your vail in seemed to pulse with every second. The small bumps from the carriage wheels seemingly pushed them in further and further. With a great huff you lifted your arms and began to pull the pins out. As they were extracted from your head you set them beside you, feel the fabric on your scalp become looser and looser. You gave the fabric a tug

“ahhh” the short clip of sound resonated through the cab.

Julian was drawn from the window quickly noticing your situation. A low chuckle escaped him and the sound was oh so pleasant.

“Allow me” he reached back and pulled two remaining pins from the back of your head. He went to set them down at the same as you went to retrieve them. Your hand overlay on top of his for a moment and the small touch caused a swell of heat to your face.

“I suppose I don’t need to be blushing at such small touches with you” you chuckled out, he smiled back at you.

You turned your body towards his, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knee. He got the hint and turned to you as well, resting his should diagonally on the seat and the wall.

“Okay” you started “Cards on the table, ask me anything”

“Anything?” he smirked “Are you sure you want to start with anything? I could ask you any sort of horrible questions. Are you sure you want that?”

You returned the smirk in earnest “If we start at rock bottom only way to go is up I suppose”

If his giggle from earlier was pleasant than this laugh was utterly gorgeous. The sound radiated mirth in a way that warmed the skin like a fire. You couldn’t help but join in the chorus.

“Okay… okay” he took several calming breaths “My question…. If you could wish for anything in this moment what would it be?”

You took a hearty pause to think it over

“ I think I would like to be able to relive a memory one more time”

“And what memory would you relive?”

You looked back in your mind. To the many summers your spent on the estate. To the winter spent teaching Dalia how to read. To the hearty laughs you had traded with you father.

“I think” your started “I think I would relive my first riding lesson.” A curious look came over Julian’s face “and why that?”

“because it was the first time in my life I felt like I had really accomplished something. I went to bed sore as could be but it didn’t bother me because I was sore from triumphing over something. What about you?”

“What about me?” he perked up an eyebrow.

“If you could relive any memory what would it be?”

His response was quick

“The first time I had successfully finished a song. For the same reasons you would go back to your riding lesson”

‘He plays music’ you thought ‘I will have to breach the topic further with him sometime.’

Your thoughts were interrupted by a lurch in the movement of the carriage. On instinct you reached forward to stop the pins from falling out of the seat next to you. This backfired however as one of the pins stuck your middle finger rather hard, pricking the pad and drawing blood.

You pulled you hand back with a yelp, shaking the hand reflexively. Julian noted your distress and grabbed your hand, cradling it to inspect it. With feather soft prodding he inspected the finger tip wiping away the blood easily. In truth the wound was nothing, it had scared you more than anything, not expecting pain when you had reached our hand down.

After his inspection was clear Julian moved his head lower to your hand. Kissing the delicate finger tip without a thought, as though kissing it better was the most logical of solutions. After pause he seemed to realize what he had just done and his face turned a bright crimson. He placed your hand back in your lap and stared at the ceiling of the cab with great interest.

Letting out a final chuckle he muttered “I suppose I don’t need to be blushing at such small touches with you”

[z-iridest]

Dabi, mirio, bakugo, todoroki and Kirishima

Ok, this is the fluffiest of the fluff so many uwus cuteness overload. Since I know your speciality love, heart flutters, and smiles my requested bday gift. 💑 ⛪ 🎩 👰💋👨‍💼🎊🎎🎎🎎

Marriage proposal! That's my request 🥺😘 may I please have you write how each boy would propose to their SO 🙇🏽‍♂️🙇🏽‍♂️🙇🏽‍♂️ tysm😚

(Omg omg omg YES! I'm so so so so sorry this is late, I tried to get this done by your b-day, lovely, I swear! Forgive meeeeee! 😭)

MHA Proposals

Warning: Little bit of language

Katsuki Bakugo

First, we start with the Boom-Boom Tsundere.....

Now, as my various fellow writers have written about our favorite Explosion Boy, he's not too interested in dating... Unless he wants a long term relationship

The two of you met back in your first year of U.A., and though things had started off rocky between the two of you, you ended up being the closest of Bakugo's friends beside Kirishima

The summer before your second year at U.A., the two of you hung out more and Bakugo asked you out within a month of the first day of your second year

Ever since that day, you two were the power couple of U.A., inseparable on and off the battlefield

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, hell, he knew it while the two of you were just friends.

He planned everything out the proposal for at least 2 months, even swallowing his pride and asking his friends for help.... Yeah, Mina lost it when he told her, she was so excited

So, on the night of your anniversary, he cooked a special candle lit dinner, got dressed up nice and had a bouquet of roses waiting for you when you came over

The entire night, he was the gentleman he'd always been with you, but added a kiss to your temple as he pulled out a chair for you, a kiss to the top of your hand for a split second during dinner... He spoiled you with affection

Once the both of you had eaten to your heart's content, he took both of your hands in his.

"Baby, I know I'm not the easiest to deal with. God knows my temper gets out of control sometimes... But, I'd be damned if I ever said that you didn't make me want to be a better man. You've known me since our first year at U.A., and our first meeting seems like it was only yesterday. Back then, if anyone had told me I'd have the most amazing, smart and hot s/o by my side for 3 years... I'd have yelled my lungs out and called them crazy. But," he gently squeezed your hands, his touch tender. "Baby, I wouldn't trade the last 3 years for anything. I love you with all my heart, as cheesy as it sounds, and the last 3 years have been the best of my life, and..." He got up and walked to your side before retaking your hand. "I don't want that to ever stop."

He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring, looking up at you with the most tender, loving expression on his face while you were ready to start crying. "Y/N, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, you said yes. He pulled you into a hug before putting the ring on your finger and kissing you

Shouto Todoroki

Like Bakugo, Todoroki had met you his first year at U.A.....

Unlike Bakugo, the two of you met in the U.A. Sports Festival that year

Your spitfire nature intrigued him, and because of this, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame

Overtime, the two of you became friends, and by the end of the year, he started to experience something he'd never felt before...

He didn't figure out what the feeling exactly was until he told his mother about you and what he felt while he was around you. She was the one who told him he had a crush on you... And demanded that he bring you to meet her once he had asked you out

So, second year of U.A. comes, and so begins the attempts at asking you out, all of which failed....

His last resort?

He caught a bunch of guys eyeing you lustfully, and he didn't like the way you were visibly uncomfortable.... So, he did the kabedon on you before the boys could do anything. He glared at the boys out of the corner of his eye

Thankfully, the creeps took the hint and ran for it, and Todoroki used the opportunity to ask you out

The rest is dating history....

Fast forward 2 years... You've met his mother and siblings (all of whom loved you).... It did take Endeavour a bit to get used to you, but a year after the two of you started dating, Todoroki had stood up to him for you.

Anyways, the night of your 3rd anniversary, he called Midoriya and Iida... Panicking a bit because he had gotten the ring, but had no plan for the proposal

Midoriya calmed him down and gave him some advice along with Iida

When you came home, you found dinner ready and a note next to your plate

The scavenger hunt led you to the various date spots the two of you had been to until you had reached the spot that Todoroki had taken you on your first date

On that little hill, standing there patiently waiting for you

When he saw you, the tender smile he'd always had around you crossed his face

In his hand was a half white, half red rose, which he gave to you as he greeted you

A picnic dinner was waiting for the two of you, so the two of you sat down together and ate while watching the sunset

The two of you talked and stargazed together

"My love, do you recognize any constellations?" He had asked you

You replied that you didn't (or did and named the few you could name XD)

He moved a little closer as he asked, "Would you like to know what I see?"

Curious, you nodded, but you were blindsided when he pulled out the ring

"All I see is the two of us together. I'm a better man thanks to you, my love, and I don't want to miss a second of it. But, this ring isn't to pressure you. If you're not ready to get married, I'll wait as long as it takes because I love you with all that I am."

You teared up at his tender words and tone and told him that you were ready

He smiled with tears of joy in his own eyes and kissed you tenderly before putting the ring on your finger before he held you. "I promise you, my love, I'll take good care of you."

Eijirou Kirishima

So, even though the two of you both went to U.A., the two of you actually met a couple weeks before school started

Ejirou had been jogging in the park when he first saw you

He had been too shy to say anything, but that first smile from you meant the world to him

That day, you had approached him and the two of you jogged together while talking

A few months into your first year at U.A., he started developing a crush on you

Halfway through the first year is when he finally asked you out

The two of you have been inseparable ever since that day

Kirishima loves the hell out of you, and he loves making you smile or laugh anytime

Back hugs are a definite with this shark toothed sweetheart UwU

Fast forward to a few years later, the two of you are living together and everyday is wonderful for Kirishima

Two months before your anniversary, he planned everything to take things to the next level with you

When you walk in, you're both surprised and touched to see dinner waiting on the table and Kirishima covered in head to toe with what looks like flour with a shark toothed grin on his face

"Happy anniversary, baby." He told you, opening his arms for you.

You giggle and hug him, both of you laughing when you realized you know had flour on you

After a quick shower and changing into comfortable clothes (meaning one of Kirishima's T shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you), the two of you ate dinner and talked about your day.

"Hey, baby, I've got a question for you." He told you. You tipped your head to one side, encouraging him to continue

You watched him take a deep breath before he took your hand, holding it tenderly in his. "I know, this isn't exactly fancy, but I couldn't think of any better way. You deserve the world, baby, and..." He came around to your side and got down on one knee. "I hope I'm the lucky bastard who gets to give it to you. I don't have a ring right now, but damn, I love you so much, and not a day goes by where the thought of you makes me smile and want to be a better hero and a better man. So, if you'll have me, ring or no ring, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and marry me?" He asked.

Smiling through tears of joy, you nodded in response

Kirishima grinned and hugged you. "We can go pick out a ring together. I want it to be perfect for you." He covered your face with kisses until he heard that adorable laugh he loved so much.

Mirio Togata

That brings us to the sunshine of the Big 3... Mirio

You better believe this boy was head over heels for you when he met you

The two of you met in junior high, and you encouraged him to keep training with his quirk, believing in him

By your first year at U.A., the two of you had grown closer together, and Tamaki pointed out to Mirio that he had a crush on you

Halfway through your first year of U.A., he asked you out and the rest is history

You were there for him through everything, being his cheerleader

When Eri entered your lives, you (of course) welcomed her with open arms, spending time with her and Mirio

The first time Eri called you "Big Sister", it had surprised you, but you were touched by her words.

Fast forward a couple years....

The two of you are living together, and everyday with Mirio means the world to you, just like it means the world to him

Which is why, while you at work, he bought a ring for you and set up his plan to propose (Eri helped him pick the ring out ^.^)

When you got home, you found a note from Mirio telling you to meet him at the park, but nothing could prepare you for what was waiting for you.

The moment he saw you coming, he began to play the acoustic guitar you had given him...

As you reached the beginning of a trail of candles, 'I Love You Too Much' by Diego Luna filled your ears, but when you looked up, you saw your boyfriend, smiling warmly as he played the guitar and sang to you as you walked toward him

When you reached him, he got down on one knee as he sang the last line

You covered your mouth and he smiled as he brought out the ring. "Y/N, sunshine of my life, will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, you accepted and the two of you automatically embraced before kissing as he placed the ring on your finger

Dabi

That brings us to Dabi....

Excuse my language right now, but this motherfucker.... He loved teasing you when you first joined the League, mainly because it annoyed you plus it was fun for him

But, the first time you barked at him to knock off his shit... He'd be lying if he said it didn't do something to him....

A few months later, the two of you were put on a mission together, and you saw just how serious he was on the front line, including his tsundere ways of keeping you safe when it called for it

About a year after you first joined, Toga (nearly getting burned in the process) told you that Dabi had a big fat crush on you before Dabi chased her for telling you, then trying to deny it

He did give up trying to deny it after a while and finally confessed, surprised when you actually returned how he felt

Fast forward 2 years....

You two: living together, an inseparable pair of troublemakers

There wasn't really any plan after almost 3 years of being together, Dabi just ended up getting some candy hearts on Valentine's Day and gave you one that said, 'Marry Me'. When you looked up from it, you found him in front of you, down on one knee to show you that he was dead serious

"Doll, will you be my eternal partner in crime?" He had asked

Your reply? It was a no duh.

He chuckled and kissed you (he went out later and stole a ring you liked)

What can I say? That flame bastard would do anything for you

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “World Uncertain” [ 2.09 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

SPRING CLEANING – The juniors are forced to confront the ramifications of their actions while navigating shaky ground. Valerie comes to New York to spend the break with Isadora, although she may be carrying deeper intentions. Winter melting into spring allows for the chance to begin again.

64 Minutes (17K words) || CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.

[ ← Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Rarely Pure and Never Simple → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The bustle and commute of a brand new work day in Manhattan echoes lightly from all around as a MALE OFFICER emerges from his cruiser. He strides a few feet onto the sidewalk, joining another FEMALE OFFICER standing on the curb.

She’s looking towards the side of the building on the corner, the male officer matching her stance. They don’t look stressed but rather confused -- and in a glimmer here and there, perhaps a bit impressed. Either way, it’s evident they aren’t sure what to make of their latest call.

Upon the brick wall of the establishment across from them, Maya’s emotionally spurred graffiti finally sees the light of day. It’s beautiful and jarring, bright and colorful and eye-catching, yet obviously attempting to convey something heavy. Something larger than life, overwhelming, difficult to capture in words as it is on the canvas of a building.

The word ENOUGH. Embellished and bold and impossible to miss.

The officers stand in front of it, small against its looming presence. As the school bell rings...

INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY

Students are transitioning for their next period, CORY MATTHEWS shouting last minute reminders at them as they shuffle out. He specifically mentions the impending spring holiday and urges students not to forget about their reading assignments.

Once the chaos has died down before the next wave of students files in, ISADORA DE LA CRUZ approaches Cory’s desk. He questions what he can do for her.

Isadora: You said that you were hoping someone could… Farkle.

Cory: … yes?

Isadora: [ clearing her throat ] His homework. You said you were wondering if someone could drop his assignments by his place during break. Since he’s coming back next week. Don’t want him falling behind and all that. So I figured I might as well.

Cory: You? You want to --

It’s obvious Isadora is the last person Cory was expecting to volunteer for such a job. But Isadora merely raises an eyebrow at him, so he quickly covers his surprise.

Cory: I just didn’t think you would be the one to -- but, sure. That would be wonderful, thank you, Isadora.

He shifts into gathering the proper materials, offhandedly relaying how much of their new book she should instruct him to read by the time they return. Isadora isn’t listening much, caught up in her own head. Perhaps Cory was a bit right to question her… why is she so intent on volunteering to help Farkle…

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Who, speaking of, is making his grand return home. After about a month away at a rehabilitation facility, the doormen and wait staff warmly welcome him back as JENNIFER MINKUS leads the way back up to their penthouse accommodations. Handfuls of “welcome back, young Mister Minkus” are thrown in their direction, accompanied by relieved expressions or uncertain smiles as they get a good look at him.

And the reason is clear enough why. As they step back into the familiar entryway and Jennifer immediately starts fussing about getting him settled back in, FARKLE MINKUS takes his time. He drops his bag on the floor, taking a deep breath. And as we pan up from the floor to his face, one change is more prominent than any other.

His hair has been buzzed off. No more obsessive coiff. No more fastidious appearance. No more flyaway mess from pulling on it and running his hands through it too often to repair.

All that’s left is what’s underneath. Clean slate. Fresh start.

Tis the season of rebirth, after all.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR opens his locker, explaining the consequences of his little joy ride last episode after he and Dylan went to court to be sentenced. Whereas Dylan got off on a warning and a minor blemish on his record since he is a minor and merely “an accessory,” Lucas was assigned 70 glorious hours of court-ordered community service to complete.

Still, he’s well aware it could’ve been far worse, especially since he’s already 18 and not as protected by juvenile limitations. It helped that the owner of the car didn’t press charges as nothing was damaged, but he also has the sense that Jack did a lot of negotiating on his behalf.

When she responds, it’s revealed that he is sharing these developments with RILEY MATTHEWS. She’s leaning against the row of lockers next to his, listening intently. She claims that he could easily knock out those service hours during spring break.

Riley: Seventy hours, ten days of break. That’s seven hours a day, which you can easily manage. [ a beat ] In fact, I’ll tag along with you.

Lucas: You do not need to waste your spring break on me.

Riley: It’s not waste, believe me. I could use the excuse to get out of the house, especially with my mom in and out helping move my brother’s things. It’s…

She doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking her head instead. Lucas doesn’t push her, getting the gist anyway. She directs her focus back to him.

Riley: And you know, it’s the least I could do. That night with the --

Lucas, pointedly: Don’t let that be your reason. You don’t owe me anything.

It’s evident Riley disagrees. They hold each other’s gaze. Riley decides not to argue it, but is still determined to join him regardless. She says as such, Lucas shrugging and focusing back on gathering his things.

Lucas: Well, I can’t stop you from blowing your break if that’s what you’re intent on doing.

Riley: Sure can’t. [ with a grin ] Besides, it’ll be fun. I like charity work.

Lucas, deadpan: Oh, I know.

Har har. It takes Riley a moment to get his implications, scowling when she realizes. He can’t help but smile, melting away Riley’s frown in spite of herself. Their smiles linger as Lucas shuts his locker, coinciding with…

INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER hitting the spacebar on one of the school computers, deeply concentrated as he scours through the webpages he has open. From an offhand glance, it seems to be a bunch of program websites, an application form or two sprinkled in. Although he’s working fast, he seems pretty intent.

And, well, a bit frantic. A glimmer of that frazzled nature is back in his eyes, making the web search seem far more important than a simple research project.

He jumps when someone calls his name, glancing up only for a moment before swiftly closing all the tabs. CLARISSA CRUZ and HALEY FISHER approach, Haley playfully nudging him and looking over his shoulder to see what he’s working on. He says he was just finishing up, not offering any further explanation.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As they’re exiting the library, Clarissa asks Charlie if he wants to come to Chubbie’s. They’re doing a sort of kick off for spring break.

Haley: Drowning ourselves in high caloric content, that’s what we’re doing.

Clarissa: As is our right after the hell this semester has been so far.

Darn right, ladies! Charlie starts to respond, but his interest shifts to hesitation as he questions who else is going. They mention Yindra and Nigel, definitely Yogi, maybe Darbs? Although there are some unsure parties, Zay is not mentioned either way.

This seems to be what Charlie was looking for. With no mention of his boyfriend he happily agrees, telling them he’ll meet them there. Once they flutter off, however, his smile falters somewhat. He’s clearly not sure how he feels about anything at this point.

He starts down the hall alone, heading towards a week of freedom from it all.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX, meanwhile, is meeting one-on-one with HARPER BURGESS. She’s got a stack of pamphlets and flyers to pass onto him, all opportunities for enrichment programs or auditions he can go out for. She also places a folded paper on top, explaining that its a list of contacts she has in the industry that he could consider reaching out to for guidance.

Harper: You know how it is -- it’s all about who you know.

Zay: Yeah. These are really great, thank you. [ a beat ] Are you sure it’s okay for you to do this? This does seem a little bit like what some might call favoritism.

Harper: Don’t see how it could be favoritism when you’re the only person who has even bothered to ask.

Fair point. Harper reminds Zay that he is more than capable of stepping into the spotlight and making real strides. Going out for these opportunities, as he’s expressed as his intent, is just the first step. He just needs to maintain his laser focus.

Zay: Trust me, I expect I will have far less distraction than usual this break.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Which is exactly what he reiterates to Riley, stuffing the pamphlets into his backpack as they make their way out for the break. He states that if he and Charlie aren’t going to be spending as much time together, then he might as well fill all that time with things that are actually important. Riley questions whether he and Charlie have even like… really discussed what happened -- because she is vague on the details and isn’t quite sure what is up between them -- but Zay waves her off.

Riley: So everything is okay.

Zay: Well… not exactly.

Riley: So you’re breaking up.

Zay: No. Not exactly.

Riley: And when was the last time you talked about this? [ nervously ] When was the last time you talked at all?

Zay, cutting her off: Riley, relax. You’ve already got one complicated relationship dominating your life, don’t let Charlie and me become the same.

Valid, but also a convenient excuse to avoid the topic. Riley relents, instead switching gears and suggesting that if Zay will have so much more time open on his social calendar this week, perhaps he would be able to squeeze in a visit to their absent classmate?

He doesn’t seem to enthused by the prospect, but it’s clear that this is a warpath Riley has been marching on for quite some time now. He reluctantly says he’ll consider it.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora pokes her head in to chat with ERIC MATTHEWS, wishing him a restful break. He returns the sentiment, assuring her that he is heading out of the office shortly after them and will give himself a well-earned respite as well. She also questions how he’s doing this week emotionally, which seems to amuse him.

Eric: You realize this is the fourth time you’ve asked me that this week?

Isadora: [ unfazed, patiently waiting for a response ]

Eric, with a smile: … yes, I’m doing better. Thank you.

Placated for now, Isadora switches gears and asks if there’s anything Eric needs to give to Farkle this break. She’ll be dropping by to take him homework, so she can play messenger for him too if necessary. Eric remembers some flyers he meant to give for him in his preparation for returning to school. As he hands them over, he encourages Isadora to also take this holiday to take a breather. He thinks they all could use it.

Oh, and at the top of that list of people who really need to relax…

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

ASHER GARCIA is meticulously arranging items on the shelves, doing his last touch-up organization of the loft before they leave for a week. He’s talking anxiously as he works, rambling about the state of things and how he’s supposed to get everything back in perfect shape. He’s speaking about the order of the prop loft, but that’s not really what he’s speaking about.

And that’s more than clear to DYLAN ORLANDO. He’s seated on the floor in front of the shelves, humoring Asher’s poorly veiled way of discussing how much of a mess everything is in socially removed terms and nodding along. He’s scribbling on a piece of notebook paper, delicately folding it and sliding it into the same cubby hole where Riley found his note in 206. Asher doesn’t notice a thing.

Dylan is smiling as he climbs back to his feet, tackling the discussion head on and explaining the situation from his perspective. He explains to Asher that Lucas was dead serious about their sentencing and took full responsibility for it. He even made a major point about taking all the blame off of Dylan, claiming that it was all him and his friend was only trying to make sure he didn’t get into anymore trouble.

That’s noble, yes, but Asher can’t believe Dylan is so calm about this. How can he not be at all upset? He got arrested.

Dylan: The cause of my impenetrable sense of peace is threefold. [ holding up three fingers ] One, I am a human being capable of making my own decisions. You said so yourself. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to go with Lucas, so it’s not like he’s some incorrigible demon corrupting me and my adorable veneer of innocence and naiveté.

Asher: You’ve been looking at the word of the day calendar, I see.

Dylan: Two. [ dropping a finger ] It really just doesn’t feel like that big a deal. I mean, yes, it’s a big deal that we got arrested and I would not like to repeat that ever again -- not to mention it would be a far bigger deal if I were any other race or gender, because of all the systemic imbalances in the justice system that make it way harder for small crimes to remain small and not totally derail your life when you’re not white and male, which now that I’m thinking about it is really kind of a huge problem that we’re not talking about enough and now I’m starting to get lightheaded -- is this what it feels like to be you all the time?

Asher: Dyl, lighthouse. And yes.

Dylan: Right. Larger sociocultural issues aside, I don’t think it’s worth getting hung up on. It happened, we dealt with it, and now we move on. Things are going to be different, yeah, but things change every day. I think it’s way more important to decide what happens next rather than get stuck on what already did. And, three --

Dylan is down to one finger, which he uses to tap at Asher’s cheek affectionately.

Dylan: All I know is that when all was said and done, Lucas stood up for me. I know he’s going through a lot right now and hasn’t been acting much like himself, but you and I both know that he always looks out for his friends. He never lets anyone else take the fall. That’s still true, and I still think that the person we’ve had as our best friend for three years, faults and all, is who he really is. I believe that, so I’m not going to drop him.

Asher absorbs this, obviously torn. He crosses his arms. Dylan continues, gently taking Asher’s shoulders and getting him to meet his eyes.

Dylan: However… if you decide that you don’t want to deal with it anymore, then that’s okay too. He messed up, and you have every right to decide that you’ve had enough and not forgive him. Or even if you do forgive him, you don’t have to let him back into your life. It’s all up to you, and it’s something that you have to come to on your own I think. Even though --

Asher, under his breath: I hate decisions.

Dylan, without missing a beat: You hate decisions. I know. But you’ll have plenty of time to think about it while you’re with your fam in Florida, and we know you’re an expert at thinking things to death. [ off Asher’s eye roll ] I’m just saying, whatever you choose to do will be the best one for you. I believe that, too. And I’ll support it no matter what… although, I’m pretty sure the best choice will be the right one. I’m not worried.

Asher: You never are. [ off Dylan’s beam ] So… what is the right choice?

As if he’ll give it up that easily. Dylan makes a face, shifting his gaze to the wall behind them as he pretends to be lost in thought. Then he locks eyes with him again, lightly tapping the side of his nose in a knowing gesture.

Dylan lightly taps Asher on the nose as well, grinning and spinning to depart without another word. Asher blinks, obviously still not thrilled with the things he has to contemplate but unable to hold back a smile in his boyfriend’s presence. He makes one last adjustment to the props before following him towards the stepladder.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas arrives in the doorway, no longer sauntering around like he owns the place. Instead he lightly knocks, an awkward gesture considering how unnatural it is.

JACK HUNTER raises his gaze from his work, emotion flitting across his features at the sight of Lucas for a second before he resets to a pleasant, neutral state. Pleasant, but removed, so not really pleasant at all. Not at all like it’s supposed to be.

Jack: Something I can help you with, Mister Friar?

Lucas: [ thrown by the way he addressed him ] … um, yeah. I’m supposed to get the service paperwork from you.

Jack hums, nodding. He rises to his feet and digs through the papers on the cabinet behind his desk. Lucas remains uncertainly in the doorway, twisting his fingers subconsciously.

Jack finds the correct form, crossing the room to hand it to him. Lucas thanks him, Jack offering a polite nod as he heads back to his desk without further ado.

Lucas glances down at the paper, then at Jack settling into his desk again. It’s obvious he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know what. It’s like he’s lost the right to say anything ever again. He retreats sheepishly, disappearing back into the main office.

Jack glances up from his desk, expression betraying his own disappointment. He shakes it off, focusing back on his work.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is settling back into the apartment, a bit stiff in it after nearly a month away. He’s set up a home base of sorts in the living room, blankets folded on the opposite end of the couch and a formidable stack of books on the coffee table. He’s dressed more comfortably than he previously allowed, light wash jeans and a hand-me-down Princeton sweatshirt a far cry from blazer glory.

Jennifer is bustling around in the kitchen behind him, relaying all of the details for their upcoming break and his adjustment back home. She mentions the specifics of when Farkle should be taking his medications for stabilizing his body in the aftermath of the attempt, and who will be home when to keep him company (and watch over him).

Jennifer: Lila is on her way back from school now, and Uri will be here after school when I go to work. I’ll be staying mornings. Of course, Darla and Curtis will be checking in periodically throughout the day to see if you need anything --

Farkle: Hence my transition to the public display case of the living room, yes.

Jennifer: You know they appreciate that rather than having to intrude your privacy to enter your room.

Farkle makes a face. It’s a lot of attention, yes, but he also knows exactly why it’s necessary. Regardless of the state he’s in now, he certainly did his part to earn the surveillance.

Jennifer: And Ezekiel is coming back next weekend. He’s going to try and fly home when he can.

Farkle, sheepish: He doesn’t have to do that.

Jennifer: He wants to. He wouldn’t have it any other way, and we’re lucky that we can afford it.

Farkle: He doesn’t -- I mean, no one needs to go to all this trouble. It’s good, I mean, I’m good. I’ll be fine.

Jennifer gives him a smile, gently perching on the arm rest next to him. She takes his chin in her hand, only slightly belittling.

Jennifer: It’s cute that you think I’m going to take your word for it.

Farkle scowls, shrugging out of her grasp. Mostly because he knows she’s right. Jennifer laughs, leaning over to give him a kiss on the top of the head. When she pulls back, the expression on her face grows more serious.

Jennifer: I love you. [ a beat ] I’m very glad you’re home.

A loaded declaration. Farkle’s indignation fades, returning the sincerity despite how out of practice he is.

Farkle, quietly: Me too.

Jennifer smiles lovingly, stroking his cheek once more before jumping to her feet again. She shakes off the heaviness, brightly suggesting the ways that Farkle can enjoy the break home before he returns to school even while being under more careful watch. He’s got that hefty stack of books there, and perhaps there are more people he wants to see? He’s more than welcome to invite some friends over, provided he lets her know.

Farkle doesn’t seem convinced by this prospect.

Farkle, under his breath: Would need some friends first.

Oof. After a month away, Farkle is feeling the sting of his isolation more than ever.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora is also set up on the couch, Blue’s living room acting as her makeshift bedroom while she’s in transition between foster homes. She’s far more settled into her space than Farkle, comfortably flipping through homework when there’s a bold knock on the door.

She doesn’t seem surprised -- and maybe even a bit excited -- as she rises to answer the door. On the other side is VALERIE DE LA CRUZ, looking glamorous as always as she cheerfully greets her daughter.

As she steps inside, BLUE NGUYEN emerges from the hall to the bedroom. She graciously greets him with her high-wattage Hollywood smile, thanking him profusely for allowing her into his house and taking such good care of Isadora. It’s obvious he has no idea how to react to her boisterous presence, accepting the praise with as much poise as he can muster.

Then Valerie is back on Isadora again, already questioning what they should do or how they should spend the week. A delicious dinner to start, perhaps? There’s this upscale place she’s been dying to try on the upper west side -- oh and Blue can come too, of course. Or perhaps a movie, if there’s one Isadora has been dying to see?

Valerie: Of course, you’ll need to clear your calendar for Friday. Very important evening plans.

[ She retrieves three tickets from her purse, handing them over with a mischievous grin and flourish. Isadora takes them, jaw dropping when she reads them. ]

Isadora: Hamilton? You got Hamilton tickets?

Valerie: It was hardly a tizzy. Just called in a favor with Lin -- you know how he was practically begging me to be in In the Heights. Well, he was more than happy to work these out for us. [ brightly ] There’s a third one in there too. I figured you might want to invite one of your friends -- Maya, I would guess? I’m sure she would love to go, even if just for the chance to boast a little bit with your classmates next week. All in good fun, of course.

Isadora, still dazed by the tickets in her hands, claims Maya won’t be able to come. Valerie asks why not, concerned, but Isadora simply states that she’s out of town for the break. Visiting Katy. This only confuses Valerie further, considering how much has happened since her last visit.

Valerie: Well, where on Earth is Katy?

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - NIGHT

KATY HART, dressed plainly and in the midst of helping cook dinner, jogs to answer the urgent knocking at the door. She pushes her hair out of her face, yanking open the door.

Katy: Just a second! Goodness, who the hell --

There on the other side of the door is MAYA HART, weary from a long day of traveling and clutching a suitcase in her hands. She brightens when she sees her mom, effortless smile blooming across her face.

Maya: Sorry. Just couldn’t wait much longer.

From the expression on her face, it’s clear that Katy was not expecting her. But it’s impossible to keep the happy grin off her face, even if mixed with incredulousness. Before she can get a word in edgewise, Maya barrels her with a hug.

Katy’s mother and father emerge from the kitchen, asking who it is and what all the fuss is about. VIVIAN “VIV” HART (60s) is demurely beautiful even with her age, although clearly the authoritative one of the pair of them. HENRY HART (60s), on the other hand, radiates that same bold and upbeat energy that his daughter and granddaughter are so proud of.

Both of them are gleeful to see Maya, rushing over to join in on the welcomes and hugs. She’s whisked into the house without another thought, not sparing a second towards how she got there or what she’s doing there in the first place…

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Alone” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. AAA Juniors)

The dramatic orchestral burst sets the mood in an instant, a spotlight illuminating Farkle standing atop one of the grandiose staircases in the Minkus abode. From the moment he speaks, it’s clear we’re in for a truly theatrical return to form.

Farkle: Oh, Maya, darling Maya, I miss you so much. Life has been absolute -- [ offhand, to DAVE WILLIAMS standing just out of frame ] dry martini, Davis, and I mean dry -- HELL without you. I’m so, so, so --

And thus Farkle launches into the ridiculous soliloquy, sashaying around in a luxurious dress shirt ensemble and dancing with his AAA classmates (sans the other super seven), who have all taken the roles of his wait staff and are dressed in identical uniforms. Some of them really make this look work, like YINDRA AMINO, while others like NIGEL CHEY and NATE MARTINEZ seem unimpressed as to what they’re doing there or why they’re being cast as his butlers.

When he dances with each of them, Asher and Dylan maintain their characterization by looking pretty disturbed in having to interact with him. Still, they all play their parts well, creating an enjoyable and suave support for Farkle’s melodramatic lament. Dave tries his best to give him the perfect martini, but never quite hits the mark.

All that aside, the most important aspect of the number is how good it feels to see Farkle perform again. Not just perform, but be absolutely, wholly over-the-top and ridiculous with an endearing amount of fanfare. This is the Farkle we haven’t seen in quite some time, and it’s nice to see him again as he tilts his head back to the high ceilings and belts out the final notes.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Even if only in a dream. Farkle is startled awake by peppy knocking at the door, having dozed off amidst his nest of blankets. On the TV, the film version of Young Frankenstein is playing. He struggles to his feet, attempting to shake off the fatigue and put himself back in presentable order. He reaches up to fix his hair on instinct before remembering he barely has any now, huffing and sliding towards the door.

Riley and Lucas are waiting on the other side, Riley offering a warm smile and cheerful greeting. Lucas does neither, keeping his arms crossed and settling for a glare instead. But hey, better than a derisive comment. That's an improvement!

Farkle steps back to allow them in, eyeing Lucas cautiously as they make their way inside. He questions what they’re doing there, which Riley scoffs at as if it’s a silly question. She explains that they wanted to come by and see how he was doing, moving further into the space and immediately going to adjust the blinds and let in more natural light.

Farkle tosses a look to Lucas. That so? Lucas doesn’t comment either way, turning away from him and getting a better look around.

Riley continues to quickly discuss all that’s happened in Farkle’s absence as he wanders over to join her. She mentions that someone will probably bring homework by at some point, and of course everyone is talking here and there about prom. They’ve started decorating for the senior send-off -- crazy how they’ll be seniors in just a couple months, isn’t it?

Riley: I’m glad that all of us will be able to jump into the final year together. [ a beat ] We all miss you.

Farkle, with a snort: Forgive me for not believing you. I’m suicidal, not delusional.

Well… remains to be seen. Riley brushes past the moment, asking how he’s doing and how his time at the hospital was. In a softer voice, she admits that there was a period where her mother considered sending her to some place similar for her depression when she was being bullied in ninth grade, so she’s always wondered. Behind her, Lucas continues to poke around the entryway and dining area with mild interest.

Farkle gives her the basic run down, expressing that while the treatment was fine and the workers were all quite nice, it’s hard to sell it as a desirable place to be when everyone present wants to die.

Farkle: You know, it’s hard to give it its due credit when most of the residents would rather be dead than be there. Literally, in case that point wasn’t clear. Not to mention the feeling of near constant surveillance, which I get, I put it upon myself, but it gets to the point where I was starting to wonder if I would ever be able to even think without the feeling that one of those well-intended nurses would hear my thoughts. It’s been nice to have the freedom of loneliness again, which isn’t something you’d ever think to say.

Riley: Well, that’s good. I guess?

Farkle: As good as it can be. But seriously, you think they’d save the overbearing surveillance for those who truly need it -- speaking of, hey Jackass --

Farkle has shifted his gaze to over Riley’s shoulder, glaring at Lucas. He jumps, spinning from where he’s examining the mantle by the dining table.

Farkle: Don’t you think it’s a bit morally decrepit to steal from the mentally ill?

Lucas scoffs, feigning innocence. He shrugs, crossing his arms in defense.

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

Farkle stares, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. Riley glances over her shoulder to look at him as well, giving him a knowing but more sympathetic grimace / smile.

After a moment of their dual scrutiny, Lucas relents. He scoffs again, pulling a handful of genuine silverware as well as a couple of other trinkets from his pockets and dropping them onto the dining table.

Farkle rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he settles back onto the couch. Riley keeps her eyes on Lucas as he sheepishly comes over to join them, but her disapproval would be more convincing if it wasn’t colored with unintentional fondness. She apologizes on his behalf, expressing that he’s had some trouble with those sort of compulsions lately.

Farkle: Oh, yeah, so I’ve heard. [ to Lucas ] Heard you stole a car.

Lucas, flatly: Maybe.

Riley: Not stole. Borrowed for temporary reckless purposes.

Farkle and Lucas continue to have a back and forth, sharing the same blunt and offhand tone.

Farkle: No keys? Break-in and hotwire?

Lucas: What do you think?

Farkle: BMW? Lexus?

Lucas: Maserati.

Farkle: No kidding. But doesn’t that have that security feature they were hyping to all hell -- ?

Lucas: Doesn’t matter if you disable it first.

Farkle: You can do that?

Lucas: If you know how.

Farkle: … touché. [ looking him over, cracking a smirk ] Well done.

Not the expected response, and a little refreshing. Lucas kind of smiles, but Riley is not thrilled with the exchange.

Riley: Okay, no, do not encourage him. We are not doing this --

Riley takes Lucas by the arms, spinning him and nudging him back towards the door. She tells Farkle that she’ll be sure to call him later, and she tried to talk to their other classmates about swinging by so she’s sure he’ll have company this week. Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but the sentiment is nice enough.

As she disappears into the hall, Farkle calls after her.

Farkle: Riley?

She pokes her head back around the door frame, giving him a look and raising her eyebrows. After a moment, Farkle smiles lightly.

Farkle, softly: Thank you.

This melts whatever chill he put between them from his brazenness with Lucas right quick. She returns the smile, blowing him a light kiss and pulling the door closed behind her.

Farkle releases a sigh, settling back into the couch and the solitude.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora and Valerie are hanging out in the living room, Valerie pacing with restless energy. They’re debating what to do that afternoon, Isadora already showing a sign or two of feeling overwhelmed. She’s happy to have her mother there, but constant interaction can be a lot.

Their conversation is interrupted by a playful knock on the door, Isadora frowning. Valerie asks if she’s expecting anyone else, and Isadora calls back the same question to Blue as she goes to open the door.

On the other side is a delightful surprise, Dylan distracted by taking in the scenery around the apartment until Isadora opens the door fully. He grins wide when they lock eyes, holding a stack of tupperware in his arms.

Isadora: Dylan. What are -- what are you doing here?

Dylan: I wanted to swing by. I hope that’s okay.

Isadora: Sure. Um… what’s with the stuff?

Dylan: Oh, yeah, well --

Dylan adjusts them in his arms, letting out a laugh. Blue joins them in the living area, curious.

Dylan: I know you’re in transition right now and stuff, and with everything going on I figured y’all probably weren’t cooking for yourselves. Ramen is sustenance, but it’ll only last you so long. And I had plenty of time cause of break, so I just threw together a meal or two.

Or ten. It’s a complicated transferral from Dylan’s arms to Isadora’s to make sure nothing gets dropped, Blue jogging over to help.

Dylan: I had Asher write the stickies with the reheat instructions -- his handwriting is way better than mine, so.

Valerie flutters up to the doorway to get a better look, having waited long enough in the shadows. She brightens when she recognizes him, knowing him as one of Isadora’s classmates and eager to engage with another one of her friends. Dylan may not be her biggest fan, but he’s far more adept at feigning friendliness and navigating social situations than say, Lucas.

Valerie: Yes, yes, you were amongst the techies. Am I right? A darling crop of little talents there, I remember.

Dylan: Sure was. It’s great to see you again.

Valerie: I remember, you had on that bright yellow crewneck. Impossible not to make an impression wearing that! And you were always with -- where’s your other friend? The well-dressed, dainty one --

Isadora, apprehensive: Mom --

Dylan, lighting up once he understands: Oh, Asher! My boyfriend. [ off Valerie’s delighted expression ] Yes, I do quite love his little bird bones. He’s on vacation with his family for the break.

Isadora attempts to end the conversation before it can take any negative turns, thanking Dylan for the food and thinking of her.

Valerie: Oh, you have to go so soon?

Isadora: I’m sure he has better things to do.

Dylan, softer: Actually, um, I was kind of hoping we could catch up. [ meeting Isadora’s eyes ] We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, lately.

There’s a pause between them. Isadora seems like that’s something she might like to do too, but with Valerie hanging around them they won’t get to really say much of importance.

Blue steps in, asking Valerie if she might be able to help him get all this food organized and in the fridge. A swoop in rescue if there ever was one.

Blue, pointedly: Might take some time. My fridge could use some reorganizing.

Valerie: Oh, it would be my privilege, Blue. Don’t you worry, I have just the solution. My good friend Marie Kondo is really into this sort of thing, and she gave me an exclusive method I could use --

Valerie trails off as they disappear towards the kitchen, giving Dylan and Isadora space. Isadora watches her go, then turns back to Dylan who offers her a smile. She manages to return it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is in the midst of reading, interrupted by another knock at the door. He shouts for Uri, assuming it’s for him. When no one goes to answer and they knock again, Farkle lets out an annoyed growl and climbs to his feet, dropping his book on the couch.

Farkle: If you’re gonna have people over, the least you could do is not have your ailing brother open the damn --

He cuts himself off when he sees a familiar face on the other side. Clearly not there for Uri.

Farkle: … Zay? What are you doing here?

Zay Babineaux, indeed. He seems a bit uncomfortable as he stands in the fancy hallway, but he made it there regardless.

Zay: Riley is damn hard to disappoint. [ a beat ] You going to let me in?

Farkle steps back, allowing his rival diva into the apartment. Zay is struck by the opulence, jaw dropping open slightly as he takes a look around. He knew Farkle was loaded, but it’s a lot different to see it up close and personal.

Zay bothers to ask how Farkle is doing -- he claims as to be expected, but somewhat better. Dare he admit it, he honestly misses the high energy and constant action of AAA. There’s plenty he doesn’t miss, but the life that seems to pulsate through it every day is a big one.

Farkle: But I’m sure you know that better than I do. I’m sure you’ll probably want to be going soon. People to see, actually healthy relationships to foster.

Zay: To be honest, I don’t think I’m doing much better in that department either.

Farkle blinks, surprised. Zay isn’t looking at him, keeping his gaze trained out the huge wall of windows towards the city. There’s a solemnity to his expression that Farkle hasn’t ever really seen before. Whatever it is that’s weighing him down, it must be important.

The solution, it seems, is to go back to what the two of them do best. Farkle says so. Despite whatever is in flux otherwise, there is one thing that the two of them can control without fail -- their ability to put on a good performance.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “no tears left to cry” as performed by Ariana Grande || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

Farkle kicks off the diva number, but it’s not long before Zay joins in. It’s difficult for him to turn down Ariana, after all. It’s the first true Farkle & Zay duet, and their voices clash just enough to create an intriguing, compelling dynamic rather than irritating. Not to mention they both bring the energy, dancing around the spacious penthouse.

Given the space, it’s also the perfect opportunity to pay tribute to the original cinematography. Zay is allowed to temporarily slip into the melodramatic mindspace of Farkle Minkus, the two of them walking on the walls and balancing amongst a penthouse folding in on itself.

The sentiment of the tribute rings strong for both of them. The time for wallowing is over, and they’re both ready to jump back into the ring with stronger motivation than ever before, albeit for quite different reasons.

As the number concludes, Zay collapses into the armchair adjacent to the couch. He catches his breath and commends Farkle for a job well done, as it seems even near death can’t knock him out of performing shape. Farkle admits he has to work extra hard to keep up with him.

The conversation drifts to Zay’s plans for the rest of break, after Farkle flatly states that his spring break basically belongs to the confines of his living room. He explains all of the auditions he’s lined up for future opportunities, vaguely alluding to his change of priority. Farkle doesn’t question it, instead lighting up as he remembers something.

He jumps to his feet, returning from the kitchen a moment later with another pamphlet. He hands it to Zay, stating that he should add that program to his roster for the week. It’s some audition that only folks on a paying list can really get updates about, but he should go for it since Farkle certainly won’t be going up for anything any time soon.

Zay seems hesitant to accept charity from him, but also grateful. He takes it and looks through it, asking if Farkle thinks he should actually do it. Any of it. If it’s even going to be worth it.

Farkle: I don’t know, man. Who knows what’s worth it and what isn’t in this business. It’s all a shot in the dark.

Zay: Yeah, but you’ve always had more luck. You’ve been the golden child since we walked through the doors of Adams freshman year.

Farkle: Yep, totally. I was the million dollar baby -- and yet, I still wanted to kill myself. [ off Zay’s grimace ] I’m just saying, we all have to do everything we can, because talent sure as hell isn’t everything. If you think you need to stretch your network, then by all means, do it. Knowing you, it won’t take long for you to see results.

Zay contemplates this, such a supportive and well-meant notion coming from his formerly feral classmate. He nods a thanks.

Riley, pre-lap: So happy to help. You’re very welcome.

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Riley smiles as a customer walks away with their food, working behind the counter at a soup kitchen. She’s got the apron and plastic gloves and all, hair pulled back out of her face in a tight bun. She reaches up to ding the small bell on the countertop in front of them, signaling they’re ready for a new patron.

Lucas is there next to her, also aproned and gloved. He looks less enthused, though he completes the work diligently. He states that if he has to do so much labor with no gain or end goal for himself, then he supposes the fact that it’s helping the less fortunate is something.

Lucas: I don’t even like working for myself. You can imagine my disdain.

Riley: [ rolling her eyes ] You know that whole act doesn’t work on me. The lazy, devil-may-care thing. I know it’s not true, I see right through it.

Lucas: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not see through.

Riley: You’re a window. An open window.

Lucas: Okay, sure.

Riley: Not even a screen in there. Just wide open, letting in the breeze and the sunshine.

Lucas: See, that’s a very sanguine perception of me. I don’t think you could get popular consensus on that.

Riley gives him a look, the two of them holding one another’s glares again before inevitably breaking into smiles. They get distracted from the moment anyway, duty calling and hungry people waiting to be served. Riley picks the conversation back up again, pointing out that Lucas does in fact gain something from all this work -- the privilege of not going to prison. He claims that would be a gross overreaction anyway.

Riley: Well, you did steal a car.

Lucas: Borrowed. For temporary reckless purposes. [ defensively ] And I was going to give it back.

Riley makes an incredulous face, but once again amusement is hindering its impact. And that makes a difference? Lucas brings it all back to the point, reiterating that while it feels nice to contribute something meaningful, it’s going to be hell getting through an entire week of something so monotonous.

Well, all you need to fix that is a little bit of initiative. Riley says as much, glancing around the shop where people are chowing down and calling to one of the elderly men seated over by the corner table. She requests that he bump the dated jukebox installed to get it going, breathe some life into this place.

Lucas, deadpan: Oh, yes. Music is the solution. How could I have forgotten?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Madonna” as performed by The Beatles || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Lucas James Friar)

The popular Beatles tune floats in through the jukebox, the patrons immediately appreciating its upbeat bounce. Riley shakes her shoulders to the beat, grooving in place until the vocals start so she can sing along.

Lucas: And now you’re singing. Okay. Sure.

Despite his commentary, it’s impossible for Lucas not to be endeared by her when she’s being so darn charming. She continues to sing and dance around him regardless of his sarcasm, taking it out into the shop and pulling customers into the fun. They clearly appreciate it, singing along with Riles when she hops up to sit on one of the tables.

She makes her way back over to Lucas at the conclusion of the first verse, taking his hand and pulling him out from behind the counter. As they make their way out of frame…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

We jump into a quick cut montage of Riley and Lucas making their way through the week doing all sorts of different community service projects. They shelve books at the library, they pick up trash alongside the road. They help fix up housing accommodations that are in disrepair, flicking paint at each other; they’re surrounded by puppies at the animal shelter, where Lucas seems to actually be enjoying what they’re doing.

At the end of the middle transition, the first “see how they run,” Lucas and Riley sing it together while taking a moment of reprieve from running all around town doing good. Lucas seems exhausted, yet Riley’s grin brightens the mood as she spins him around and nudges him back off-screen into the next thing.

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Back in the soup kitchen, Riley has pulled Lucas out onto the floor amidst the tables. She pulls him into a simple dance move, a shot focusing on both of their shoes doing the moves across the linoleum floor. Scuffed up black boots and cute doodled-on Keds, moving somewhat in sync and in the same direction.

INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY

Riley rides on the book cart as Lucas continues to push it through the aisles, picking up the verse again and handing books to Lucas to shelve as they go. The song takes us back through each of their projects one more time, in time with the beat…

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Until we end up back behind the counter at the soup kitchen, back to the same old but in admittedly much better spirits than before.

Riley spins around Lucas and ends up back in her spot, exchanging a flirtatious beam with him before reaching up and hitting the bell to signal the end of the number. Ding!

EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora and Dylan are out on the tiny balcony that can hardly be called a balcony, cramped against the sliding door and sharing the tupperware bin of cookies. Isadora hasn’t indulged in her treat yet, too preoccupied with Dylan’s story as he catches her up on everything that happened, building up to the joy ride. When he finishes, she can only formulate one statement.

Isadora: Holy fucking shit.

Yeah, that about sums it up. Dylan nods in agreement, breaking a piece of his cookie and popping it into his mouth. She attempts to process it all, expressing the same thought that she can’t believe Dylan is being so cool about all of it. He shrugs, Isadora shaking her head and lamenting how shitty Lucas has been, that of course it would culminate in something like this.

Dylan gives the same shorthand defense that he gave to Asher, before pointing out that Isadora is probably speaking way more from her own anger towards Lucas that she’s chosen not to confront nor address for months. It’s a take that floors her to speechlessness, Dylan noticing her shock before shrugging again.

Dylan: Sorry. I’ve been to the clink, I’m a different man now.

At that, Isadora rolls her eyes. But she has to admit that he’s right -- she and Lucas haven’t spoken in months. And even when they were talking, they weren’t really talking. The last time she feels like they really understood another, were really listening, was almost a year ago. And she wouldn’t even know how to communicate with him now.

Dylan states she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to, but to him it seems like she does. It’s impossible for either of them to move past the way they are right now because there’s no closure. If she gives it one more chance and actually talks about things, then at least she’ll get that.

Dylan: Even if it’s not good, even if it’s the last conversation you ever have, at least it’s something. You’ll be able to clear the air. A certain goodbye is better than endless uncertainty.

Although she seems reluctant, Isadora claims she’ll think about it. She asks how Asher is handling things and if Dylan has made his choices about the whole situation, to which Dylan affirms both. He knows that Asher will make the right choices, and as for himself, he’s never wavered on where he stands. He’s always been an advocate for forgiveness, so long as the action isn’t totally reprehensible. Especially when you love the person who is seeking it.

Isadora absorbs the sentiment, taking a good look at him. Although she doesn’t say it, the softness that shimmers in her features conveys how much she missed Dylan.

Isadora: Since when did you become all wise?

Dylan, earnest: The hour and 13 minutes that I was behind bars really changed me.

She can’t help but laugh, Dylan cracking his delivery to grin. Isadora takes a bite of the cookie, humming in appreciation and nodding.

Isadora, mouth full: This is fucking delicious.

Dylan: Why thank you. And you’re welcome.

EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - HILLSIDE - DAY

A fresh new day. The sun is rising over the hillside, a pleasant breeze blowing the long grass.

Maya stands amidst the fresh air, taking it all in. She’s almost unrecognizable, no longer in her diva best. Fresh-faced with no make-up, money-making hair pulled haphazardly out of her face in a ponytail. Dressed plainly like the rest of the Hart family.

She closes her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. Absorbing the sunshine, the oxygen, the chance to really breathe. You can take the girl out of the theatrical, but you can’t take the theatrical out of the girl.

Then she turns and heads back up the hill towards the house.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY

Maya steps back inside the house and immediately joins her grandparents at the kitchen table for brunch. Katy and Vivian are just finishing set up the food, all of them settling in to eat. The way Maya interacts with her family is quite different from the way she is at school, but there’s something refreshing about it. In some ways, it might be nice to see her bring some of this energy back to AAA with her.

Still, her grandparents are invested in her dreams and ambitions. They ask Maya how the fancy arts school is going, and she enthusiastically responds with all of the things she’s gotten to accomplish in the last couple years.

Katy attempts to dig for truth again, subtly shifting the conversation to give Maya an opening to speak truthfully. She loves AAA, of course, but Katy is well aware of how complicated everything is within its walls.

It’s obvious she wants to ask about Farkle, but Maya manages to evade the discussion effortlessly. She digs into her breakfast, changing the subject by asking what Vivian and Henry might want to do that afternoon. Katy accepts the shift, but it’s clear she’s not pleased with it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

It’s Charlie’s turn to make an appearance at the Minkus home. Farkle pulls open the door that morning to find him standing there, a tupperware haul in his arms that could rival Dylan’s. Farkle is stunned to see him, obviously not expecting it.

Charlie greets him, and once Farkle awkwardly invites him in he launches into a swift explanation of each of the dishes his family put together for them. He wraps up by explaining the two large tupperwares on the bottom, where a couple of casseroles have been stored. He mentions one of them containing pork.

Farkle, flatly: We’re kosher.

Charlie, breathless: … oh. Oh. Well, um --

Farkle: It’s fine. Uri is a heathen, he’ll eat anything.

Farkle takes the tupperware from him, inviting Charlie further in as he goes to drop the stuff in the kitchen. He seems less energized today than earlier in the week, operating with a brusque, restless nature instead.

His offhand bluntness doesn’t help Charlie’s nerves. It’s clear he’s glad to be there out of good will, but he moves about the spacious apartment with obvious uncertainty. So Farkle’s sarcasm only adds another unsettling factor.

Farkle: By all means, make yourself comfortable. We can only hope we don’t get smote by a vengeful God --

Charlie: Huh?

Farkle pauses. There’s a subtext to his statement that his knowledge allows him -- Charlie being gay, Farkle having attempted suicide -- but he opts for the more blatant explanation.

Farkle: You know, the subtle differences in our chosen beliefs. Let’s hope your Catholic deity doesn’t kill you for hanging out with a Jew.

Charlie is so scatter-brained he doesn’t even have the energy to care about that take on his religion. He awkwardly brushes it off, settling onto the couch and asking Farkle how he’s doing. They were all worried about him. Farkle obviously doesn’t believe him either, pacing along the carpet as he gives Charlie a similar spiel.

When he turns the tables back on Charlie and asks how things are, he carries the same uncertainty that Zay did a couple of days ago. Farkle picks up on this, smart enough to piece together that something must be going on between the two of them. Sure makes both of their free time to come see him more logical.

It feels like Charlie could use an escape, and honestly in that moment Farkle is feeling the same. He says as much, jumping back into his former frenzied energy and claiming that Charlie should just forget it for now. He claims they should direct their focus into something better, a little practice maybe -- Charlie seems skeptical, wondering if Farkle should maybe like… be resting, but he’s already off and running.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’m Still Standing” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Charlie Gardner

The rendition is bouncy, fun, and definitely checks off the boxes Farkle was trying to achieve. He and Charlie both pour all of their nervous energy into it, making for a good performance. It’s especially interesting to see the two of them perform together, as it’s essentially a first in AMBITION history.

For as neat as the number is, it comes to a rather abrupt conclusion. Ironically, Farkle grows weary fast and nearly collapses. Charlie immediately drops down next to him and helps pull him back to his feet, moving them back towards the couch while Farkle catches his breath.

Despite how fine he’s attempting to appear, everything Farkle has endured isn’t just going to go away. His choices have consequences, and Charlie is witnessing the exhaustion that comes with it. He braces his shoulder and questions whether he’s okay, or if there’s something he can get him. Rather than answering, Farkle throws a curveball.

Farkle: I’m sorry, Charlie.

Charlie, confused: What? For what?

Farkle, out of breath: You’re a good guy. A little bland, yeah, but you’re good. You really care about people -- even people like me, despite all the shits I gave about that -- and I used to think that was dumb. I figured it made me better than you, but it doesn’t. I’m not. And you’re just as good as the rest of us -- you always have been.

Charlie: … I mean, I didn’t --

Farkle: I just want you to… you’re talented, Charlie. Okay? You’re just as good as anyone else, definitely as much as me. [ locking eyes with him ] I’m really sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t.

It seems out of left field, yes. But the origin of it is clear, all of these things that Farkle has been ruminating on but didn’t have the chance to say -- might have never had, if his attempt had succeeded. Now he’s making up for it. Now he’s saying it.

Charlie absorbs the sentiment. Somehow, it’s just what he needed, and means more to him than he could’ve anticipated. He manages a smile, nodding and patting Farkle’s shoulder.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Katy finally gets a moment alone with Maya, settling down on the couch with her as she flips through an actual hard copy newspaper. She makes a joke about how those things have real actual stories in them -- who knew? Katy humors it before using it to transition to what she wants to talk about: why Maya came all the way out here to avoid spring break in New York.

Maya, timidly: Isn’t wanting to see you enough?

Katy: Of course, and you know I’m happy you’re here. But I wasn’t born yesterday.

Maya hesitates, perhaps about to really open up… when Henry and Vivian enter to join them. Maya sees their entrance as an opportunity for avoidance, picking the most effective conversation starter she knows -- Katy’s unappreciated talent.

After bringing up how Katy hasn’t performed in a hot minute, it doesn’t take long for the grandparents to jump on the bandwagon despite Katy waving them off. Henry, the artistic of the two, settles in at the piano and claims they can throw something together. Provided it’s something they all know.

Maya: Culturally timeless… you know a thing or two about Hamilton, pops?

Henry: Sweet pea, everyone knows a thing or two about Hamilton.

Maybe so. Maya grins, wiggling her eyebrows at Katy as her mother takes a spot by the piano with Henry. She gives Maya a look, but softens as the soft piano kicks up.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dear Theodosia” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Katy Hart & Maya Hart (feat. Henry Hart)

Henry’s delicate piano lends a definitive charm to this understated duet, Katy taking the Burr verse. She sings uncertainly at first, but as she looks at Maya and emotes the chorus (“We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you...”), her lovely voice gains more confidence.

Maya jumps in on the Hamilton verse, her performance a bit more cheeky considering she roped her mother into it. But when they get to the bridge (“My father wasn’t around, I promise I’ll be around for you…”), that devotion and love they have for one another is crystal clear all over again. Maya takes Katy’s hand resting on the piano, linking their fingers.

Henry smiles as he plays along, pride twinkling in his eyes. Vivian watches from the couch, not a creative herself but happy to see her family all together again.

Even in the midst of chaos, there can be moments of beauty.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Valerie and Isadora are out on the town, having just seen a movie together. Despite it being one of Isadora’s interests, Valerie is keeping up a bulk of the discussion. It’s almost incessant, the way she’s all over the place to keep up conversation. She doesn’t notice, but Isadora is definitely starting to feel a bit of drain.

However, some of this exhaustion melts away when they bump into Eric emerging from a store. He greets them both cheerfully, Isadora engaging in conversation with him seemingly much more seamlessly than with Valerie. Eric assures Isadora that he’s quite enjoying his break, and he promises to continue not doing any work while he’s on vacation.

Valerie definitely clocks their playful back and forth, watching them with fascination and a bit of something like envy or disappointment.

INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

LILA MINKUS is present, helping Farkle with his recovery medications and ensuring he takes them properly. Their back and forth is dry and sarcastic as usual, but Lila is operating with slightly more tact than usual. The banter is more sibling-like rather than colored with genuine disdain.

Once he’s finished and subject switches to dinner plans, Lila pauses. Following the same pattern as Farkle earlier, she finds herself blurting out an emotional truth before she can think it through the way she’s used to.

Lila: You know I -- you know I care about you, right?

Farkle: … sure. Yeah.

Lila: I don’t just mean like -- I know we haven’t always been… I care about you. I can’t even imagine… [ voice cracking ] You can’t ever pull shit like this again. Okay, germ? You aren’t leaving us like that.

Farkle seems surprised by the genuine vulnerability. It’s uncommon in their household, but despite the stammering and tripping over words, he understands what she means. He nods.

Farkle: Got it.

Lila nods, managing a tight smile before escaping from the vulnerability. Farkle watches her go, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face as he puts his water glass in the sink.

EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT

Maya has retreated to the fresh air again, sitting on the hammock chair on the porch. Katy steps out to join her, quietly settling down next to her. She questions whether or not Maya has had enough dancing around the issues and is ready to talk about them. They exchange a look, Katy quirking an eyebrow knowingly.

It’s hard to hide from Katy. Maya sighs dramatically, Katy breaking into a smile and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Maya, melodramatically: It sure is nice out here in the middle of nowhere. Fresh air, quiet, a strange sort of whimsy that comes from having absolutely nothing to offer. [ sighing ] Perhaps it would be better to retire out here to live out the rest of my days, shelving the glitz and glamour of show business for the humble accommodations of the Vermont hillside.

Katy: You’re a good actress, but you aren’t that good, baby girl.

Point taken. It’s not a convincing option, coming from Maya. Katy redirects the conversation to what Maya might be running from instead, because she knows it has nothing to do with the dream.

Finally, Maya does her best to talk it out. She admits that Farkle will be returning to school next week, and she just needed the chance to get away from it all and really think. She’s not really upset with him anymore -- in some ways she is, but mostly she’s just tired. She wants the theatrics between them to stop, but she doesn’t think she wants to remove him from her life for that to happen. She liked having him as a friend; she misses him, and she doesn’t think she can continue to front that she doesn’t anymore. It’s too exhausting, living as a projection rather than authentically herself.

That being said, she doesn’t want things to follow the same pattern and self-destruct all over again. Something has to give, something has to change if they’re going to be friends again. She isn’t sure what, but she figures it won’t even matter if Farkle himself isn’t open to discussing it or willing to change.

As Katy wisely says, it seems like the next logical thing to do is to bring Farkle back into the conversation. Maybe he isn’t willing to change... or maybe he’s been thinking the exact same things. There’s only one way to find out, even if it’s daunting.

Maya sighs, accepting this as truth. She cuddles closer to her mom, reveling in how nice it feels to have her there with her again.

Maya: I love you, mom.

Katy: I love you, too. Every hour of every day.

She places a kiss on the top of her head, settling into the quiet of the Vermont evening.

EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

As they arrive to drop Isadora off, Valerie is already overcompensating for the earlier strain in trying to decide what they’ll do tomorrow. And has Isadora figured out who will be accompanying them on Friday? She doesn’t want to rush her, or anything, but it is coming around the bend.

Socially, Isadora has reached her limit. She sort of snaps at Valerie, stating no, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Things go quiet between them, Isadora sighing and facing towards the door. She opts not to just run from the negativity and tries to be honest with Valerie, expressing that she just needs some space. She’s glad she’s there, she is, but it’s… too much all at once. Maybe some time to herself would help.

Valerie does her best to be okay with it, but it’s evident she’s hurt. She relents, bidding Isadora goodnight and requesting that she reach out when she’s feeling more… interested in being with her again. But no rush.

As Valerie walks off, Isadora watches after her. She’s torn, not satisfied with how that conversation went but also too exhausted to deal with it further. She disappears into the apartment.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Run And Tell That” as performed by Hairspray Original Movie Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

The groovy intro floats over the city as a new day starts, zeroing on Zay emerging from the subway as he launches into the first verse. As he runs and dances his way around Manhattan, bystanders seem to join in on the performance and supplement the epic feeling of his progression through the city.

He darts in and out of buildings, sliding onto the stages and giving a flurry of different auditions. His outfit and style shift as he goes, representing the passage of time throughout the week as well as how he presents himself to each opportunity. Regardless, one trait remains the same -- his unmistakable talent.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

When it gets to the Little Inez bridge, it’s not a different performer but rather stands in as Zay’s “audition” piece. And suffice to say, it’s impressive, showing off his energy and overlooked vocal power. About time we saw this spirit again!

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Audition portion completed, Zay bursts back out onto the streets of Manhattan. More and more of the crowd has gotten into the groove, creating a truly vibrant and energetic portrait of the city.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DANCE LOT - DAY

We make a return to a friendly setting to conclude the number, Zay rounding out the performance with his crew of talented and eclectic youth at the dance lot. No Charlie accompanying him this time around, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference. He’s alight with the passion he’s been putting on display all week.

Maybe this is what everything is all about. It’s like he’s gotten so distracted with everything else, he forgot why performing makes him so happy in the first place.

No ignoring it now, that’s for sure. The fellow dancers crowd around and give him welcoming pats on the back and high-fives as he slays the final run. Woo!

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Meanwhile, Riley and Lucas are taking a well-needed reprieve from all their court-ordered do-gooding. They’re basically having a lowkey picnic, snacking on a late lunch after another long day of volunteering. Conversation seems to be easy between them, Lucas sprawled on his back and staring at the sky while Riley sits cross-legged an arm’s reach away.

After their chuckles die down from whatever they were talking about previously, Riley states that Lucas was really good at the animal shelter. He definitely has a knack for working with animals, at least far more so than anything else they’ve spent the last week doing.

Lucas: I don’t think it’s hard to show more enthusiasm towards animals than say, trash on the side of the interstate.

Riley: [ nudging him ] I’m serious. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you be that interested in something… like, ever.

Lucas: It’s not my fault most things aren’t interesting. If they want my attention, then they should be better.

Riley shakes her head, biting back a laugh. She tilts her head at him.

Riley: I’m just saying. Maybe this could become something more permanent. You know, when it’s not a punishment for criminal activity. [ a beat, then playful ] Maybe you could get into the habit of actually doing good.

Lucas, thoughtfully: … maybe with you I could.

Oh. That’s not very playful or offhand at all. Lucas realizes his slip up a second too late, glancing nervously at Riley before directing his gaze anywhere but at her. Given that he’s facing the sky, it’s not hard to find other places to look.

But Riley doesn’t miss the moment. She absorbs it, smiling lightly to herself and pressing her lips together to hide it.

After a moment of quiet, Riley starts to broach the topic of how things have been the last few months. She figures it’ll be a touchy subject, but surprisingly, Lucas claims he has something he wants to say about that. She watches him curiously as he pushes himself upright, propping his elbows on his knees and taking a deep breath.

Then he meets her eyes, trying his best to be sincere.

Lucas: I’m sorry. About the way I’ve been acting.

Riley: I get it. There’s been a lot going on.

Lucas: Yeah. But that’s not an excuse. [ a beat ] I think… it just got too easy to deflect. Do you know what I mean? Like things were never good, but then with each thing that got stacked on top of each other in the last month it just felt like another good reason to fall apart. To let another screw go loose, and push away another person who was trying to fix it, until I was standing in the precinct parking lot with a whole bunch of… spare parts, junk, and no clue how they fit together anymore. And I’d done a good job of telling everybody to fuck off, so there’s no one left to help me put things back together. Now I’ve just got to… do it. It just sucks that it took hitting every rock on the way to the bottom for me to realize it.

Riley frowns, sympathetic. But she doesn’t interrupt, letting him work through the feelings on his own.

Lucas: I got there, and now I’ve got to try and fix it, but no amount of reason is a good enough excuse for the way I’ve been treating people. Especially you. [ looking at her ] So I’m genuinely sorry.

An apology was more than Riley was ever expecting, least of all one that feels so honest. There’s a moment of quiet, then she accepts it. They exchange tentative smiles.

Riley questions if he’s planning the same approach for his other friends, to which Lucas sort of laughs and weakly states he doesn’t know who would even count as a friend anymore. She says Asher and Dylan without hesitation, and it’s clear from the way he grows even more timid that they’re at the forefront of his mind.

With a little more nudging, Lucas admits that he doesn’t see what the point is. He was rude to Riley, but he was reprehensible with them. They were there for him and he took advantage of it at every turn, even if he didn’t consciously mean to. After the way they left things, with the things he said to Asher and everything with Dylan and the joy ride…

Lucas, defeated: He’s done. And he should be. [ shaking his head ] He’s never going to forgive me.

Riley understands the hesitation, but she delicately offers a counterpoint.

Riley: Not to sound like the dreamy optimist, but I really wouldn’t be so sure about that.

Lucas: You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know how -- I really fucked up.

Riley: No offense, but I don’t have to have been there to believe that. But I don’t think you’re giving Asher enough credit. I know I don’t know him the way you do, but he doesn’t seem like a particularly vengeful guy. Especially not with someone he loves so much. [ a beat ] You’d be surprised how hard it is to give up on someone you love.

Lucas seems bashful just at the insinuation, still far from comfortable with such open discussions of affection. But perhaps Riley has a point -- she speaks confidently enough, like she knows. He’s certainly listening.

Riley: I’m not giving any guarantees or anything. I just think that, yeah, if you never apologize because you think it’s not even worth it, then Asher definitely will never forgive you. If you never give things the chance to work out, then they won’t.

Something to think about. Lucas contemplates it, seriously considering her point.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY

Maya finds Vivian in the kitchen, prepping early for dinner. She asks if she wants any help, and Vivian cracks a joke about Maya volunteering to do any sort of housework. Is she sure she’s the same granddaughter she’s always known? Maya rolls her eyes, nudging her playfully before requesting instructions on where she can help.

While they work, Maya takes the opportunity to ask Vivian how she feels about Katy and her current straits. Considering Maya is, perhaps foolishly, trying to do the same thing, does Vivian regret letting Katy try to pursue her dreams rather than doing something more practical?

Vivian prefaces by telling Maya she knows she would never beat around the bush with her. Harts are hearty people, and damn honest at that.

Maya: Believe me, I know. Got a bit of a reputation for it myself.

That aside, Vivian admits that the whole notion of following the artistic dream does feel a bit reckless to her. She’s not a creative person either, so that doesn’t help the mystery of it in her eyes. But that being said… what’s life if not a little bit reckless?

Vivian: I may not get all of the hubbub around the dream, or the passion behind it. But what is the point of life other than to live it? Taking the guaranteed safe route when you believe you could do something more feels a little bit like cheating yourself… especially for someone as hearty as a Hart.

This placates Maya. It’s nice to remember that there are people in her corner all the time, even when they’re not in plain sight right there in front of her. She gives her grandmother a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumps back into dinner prep with the same intensity as a new performance.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

As the week has waned on, Farkle’s energy has come and gone in waves, and presently it’s at a low point. He’s crashed on the couch, eyes glazed over as he watches television. He’s startled by a knock on the door, but he doesn’t make a point of rushing up to get it. When they knock again, Lila emerges from the hall rather than waiting for Farkle to get up and do something about it.

She returns a couple moments later, poking her head in from the entryway.

Lila: Hey. Someone’s here for you.

Farkle, monotonous: Couldn’t be. I don’t have friends.

Lila: You’ve had like five people come by this week. Who were they?

Farkle: Okay. Those were my only friends.

Lila: Would you stop wallowing and just get up? I’m going to let her in either way.

Farkle: You’re the worst sister ever.

Lila: Socialization is good for you.

Isadora, from off-screen: This is ridiculous --

Farkle frowns as he places the familiar voice, turning to look over his shoulder just as Isadora marches into the room. Farkle’s eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet, obviously not expecting to see her at all.

Farkle: Isadora -- Smackle -- what [ adjusting his askew sweatshirt ] what are you doing here?

Isadora, unimpressed: What’s the matter? Did they take away your ability to walk and answer the door for yourself in treatment?

Farkle is speechless, embarrassed. This certainly isn’t the state you want one of your key intellectual rivals to see you in… well, ever. Lila looks back and forth between them, somewhat amused.

Lila: I’ll leave you to it, then. Nice to meet you, Isadora.

Isadora nods to her as Lila disappears back into the hall, snickering to herself.

Farkle and Isadora stand at an impasse for a moment, not sure what to say to one another. Farkle clears his throat, scratching at his neck.

Farkle: You didn’t have to come by. Just because you feel bad.

Isadora: That’s not -- [ scoffing ] that’s not why I came.

Farkle: No?

Isadora: No. I’m here to save your education.

Isadora marches over to him, shoving the homework from Cory into his arms. He manages to catch it, Isadora huffing and pushing past him further into the room. He sorts through the items, realizing that her intentions for visiting were at least partially utilitarian and genuine. He can appreciate that.

Farkle: Oh. Well. Thanks.

Isadora: Uh huh.

He puts down the homework amidst his spread of books on the coffee table, Isadora eyeing them and inching closer to get a better look. She curiously questions how his recovery is going, demonstrating her own knowledge of mental health exposure when she asks if they’re planning to put him on any permanent medication treatment plans.

Farkle flops back onto the couch, shrugging.

Farkle: They’re throwing all of it around. Lexapro. Zoloft. Prozac or Celexa. [ snorting ] You know what I realized? “Farkle” sounds like a drug. I’m a fucking antidepressant.

The problem, he concludes, is that they really don’t know what’s up him, so they’re hesitant to formulate a treatment plan. And makes sense, because he sure as hell doesn’t know what’s up with him either. Guess he’s destined to find out, sooner or later.

Isadora awkwardly wishes him luck with that, Farkle making an unimpressed face. Quiet settles between them -- she’s done her duty, and there’s nothing more to say -- but for some reason she doesn’t rush to leave.

Farkle hardly notices, sort of zoning out. Isadora recognizes the vibe, commenting that it’s okay. Farkle blinks, snapping out of it.

Farkle: Huh?

Isadora: That they’re still there. The… those kind of thoughts. They’re not just going to disappear because you went to one rehab treatment.

Farkle: Auspicious. Thank you.

Isadora: I’m only saying, you don’t have to be back in tip-top tyrant shape right away. You can… take a moment. Remember how to breathe again before you take off running.

Oddly apt to what he’s feeling, even if he’d never vocalize it. He doesn’t seem convinced, but Isadora isn’t going to just say her piece and go. If she’s going to make her point, then she wants to make sure Farkle really hears it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Here Comes A Thought” as performed by Estelle & AJ Michalka|| Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Farkle Minkus

With the opening synth, Isadora hesitantly takes a seat closer to Farkle. Her vocals, although strong as usual, also have a softer edge than we’re used to when she performs -- it’s an intimate conversation, still, even in song form.

The whole performance is very lowkey, the two of them simply sitting next to each other, watching each other carefully. Farkle joins in about halfway through, allowing himself to be more open about his mental state for the first time in the episode.

As the song comes to an end, there’s an unusually vulnerable moment shared between the two of them. They hold eye contact, recreating some of that feeling they felt in Eric’s office during group week although no closer to really understanding what it is.

Isadora clears her throat, searching for a change in subject. She nods towards the English homework.

Isadora: Sorry about the book, by the way. It’s a little banged up, but it’s the best I could do.

Farkle reaches for it, taking it in his hands. Pride & Prejudice. A well-worn copy of it, notes and annotations in the margins visible as he flips through it.

Farkle: Cory didn’t give you a school copy?

Isadora: He did… but I’m pretty sure my mom lost it. [ off Farkle’s snort ] She was all excited to enjoy some “truly classic literature” while endeavoring in her “cultured” stay with me, and I haven’t seen it since. So you get my personal copy instead.

Farkle: Oh, big honor.

Isadora: It is. There’s some genius analysis going on in those margins. Not many are so lucky as to get to experience it for themselves.

Farkle chuckles, taking a better look at some of the annotations. Then he manages a smile, holding up the book indicatively.

Farkle: I’m sure your additions will make for an interesting read, if nothing else.

Isadora tentatively returns the smile, edging her way towards the door to go. She hesitates, spinning back around and asking Farkle if he’s busy Friday evening.

Farkle: … I’m a freshly released mental patient who is basically on mother-ordered house arrest. So naturally, I’m booked solid.

Isadora: You’re not aware that I suck at sensing sarcasm, but I’m going to assume that was it. And if you’re not busy… what are your feelings on Hamilton?

INT. SVORSKI’S CAFE - DAY

Friday afternoon, end of break impending. Lucas is sitting alone at a table in the back corner, tapping his fingers nervously on the surface. There’s an iced drink in front of him, but he hasn’t touched it. Every time the cafe door bell jingles he jumps, looking towards the entrance and expecting to see someone important.

It’s always someone else. Lucas deflates after about the third repetition of this, slouching in his seat and dropping his gaze down to the drink in front of him.

The bell jingles again.

This time, it’s Asher pushing his way through the door. Lucas straightens up, swallowing and waiting for Asher to finish scanning the room and find him. He waves at him when they lock eyes, but it sort of looks like an anxious twitch.

Still, he gets the message. After a moment of hesitation, Asher cautiously makes his way through the cafe towards him. He keeps his hands in his coat pockets, on the defensive as he comes to stand at the table.

Lucas greets him, awkwardly standing as well. There’s an uncomfortable moment where they both look at one another, not sure what to do next, before Asher settles in the chair opposite him. Lucas takes that as his cue, dropping back down into his seat as well.

Lucas: I got you a drink. [ sliding the drink across the table ] Peach lemonade. ‘Cause I know you like it. I didn’t add like, sugars or anything, because I wasn’t… well, I figured you would know how you’d want that. If any.

Asher glances down at the drink. He lightly touches the lid, running his fingers along it. Not saying anything.

Lucas stares at him, obviously wishing he would. At a loss for how to proceed tactfully, everything he wants to say tumbles out of him unceremoniously.

Lucas: You were right to get upset. Okay? Believe me, I know that. And I promise, I’m going to pay you back for the bail money. And the hospital bill from my wrist, and… and like, all of it. I’m going to make the money and then I’m going to pay it back.

[ Asher lifts his eyes, watching him uncertainly. Lucas trips over what to say next. ]

Lucas: And I’m done with the stupid stunts. No more pulling Dylan into anything either. And I don’t know if I did any damage to your car -- I don’t think I did -- but like, tell me if I did and I’ll fix it. I’m going to -- I’ll fix it. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.

Still nothing. Asher is clearly listening, contemplative, but to Lucas it just feels like a wall. He grows more desperate, voice cracking and speech terse as he chokes on the emotion.

Lucas: You’re my best friend. [ a beat ] You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry that I fucked that up. And I know that… I know I can survive without you. Duh. I could do it, if I had to. But… I don’t want to. [ shaking his head ] I don’t want to think about my life without you in it.

The air is heavy with the truth of his words. Asher quietly absorbs them, dipping his head down to look at the drink. A second of silence. Then another. Then another.

Lucas: Okay, I know I just finished saying that you don’t owe me anything and I’m the one groveling but… could you please say something? Maybe?

A few more moments of silence that feel like an eternity. Then, Asher lifts his gaze to meet his. When his speaks, his voice is soft.

Asher, deadpan: You could start by getting me a straw.

Not the most forthright of acceptances, but not a cold dismissal by any means. And humorous, in Asher’s own special way. Lucas laughs, more out of relief that he’s speaking at all.

Asher: … I wasn’t kidding.

Lucas: Oh. Oh! Hold on --

Lucas gets up, grabbing a straw and sliding back into his seat. He waits as Asher unwraps the straw and sticks it into the lid, taking his time.

Before he takes a sip, he meets his eyes again. This time, some of the warm familiarity they share has reappeared.

Asher, quietly: Thanks, meatball.

The nickname is more of a signal than any verbal acceptance of his apology. Lucas cracks another relieved smile, Asher mirroring it lightly as he takes a long sip of the lemonade.

Perhaps all is not broken beyond repair.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - NIGHT

Valerie and Isadora are walking Farkle back to his building post-Hamilton, raving about the show and keeping up a relatively consistent chatter. Isadora is doing more observing of her mother and former rival interacting than contributing, but it isn’t an issue this time. And she seems to be enjoying herself nevertheless.

As they stop outside his building, Farkle states that they didn’t have to walk him all this way. Isadora claims actually, they did, as it was part of the requirements for his mother to let him come along with them.

Farkle: Yeah… thanks for inviting me. It was nice to get out of the apartment -- think I was going a little stir crazy.

Valerie: It was our pleasure, truly.

Isadora: Surprisingly.

[ Farkle narrows his eyes at Isadora. She matches the expression, causing him to crack and offer the ghost of a smirk. ]

Valerie: And you’ll be going back to Triple A after this weekend, no? Suppose this could be considered a trial run of some sort. A dress rehearsal!

Farkle: Yes, well, that will be a spectacle all its own, I’m sure. [ to Valerie ] Thank you, again. [ to Isadora, with a nod ] Isadora.

Isadora returns the nod, Farkle heading into the building through the revolving door. Valerie makes an expression at Isadora, raising her eyebrows.

Isadora, genuinely lost: What?

Valerie raises her hands in surrender, although the amusement doesn’t leave her features. Isadora obviously wants to question her, but the more they walk towards the subway the more emboldened Valerie becomes. Before they descend down into the station, she pulls Isadora aside and states there’s something she needs to tell her.

The reason that she came to stay with Isadora for the break wasn’t just because of everything going on here -- though that is part of it, and she’s happy to have been there for Isadora even if she can be a bit much.

Isadora: Well, I wouldn’t say --

Valerie: Oh, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I’m a big celebrity, I can take my share of critique. And I know we aren’t perfectly matched. I can be a lot, certainly more than you’re used to. But we’re improving, aren’t we? Every day.

Isadora can agree with that much. Valerie goes on to explain that she’s been doing a lot of thinking, much contemplation, and part of the reason she came to stay the week was to test the waters of their dynamic in long terms. Because... she hopes to try and get back custody of Isadora so that she never has to deal with this foster care business again. That, and of course, they can be a proper mother and daughter.

Isadora is shocked. At her stunned expression, Valerie quickly begins to articulate all the thought she has put into it. Naturally, she would only pursue it if it’s something Isadora would want… and does she think, maybe, it’s something she would want?

The moments that Isadora hesitates feel unbearable. Then, surprising even herself, she speaks.

Isadora: Yeah. [ a beat ] Yeah. It is. I would.

Valerie takes a moment to absorb it, realizing Isadora has said yes.

Valerie: Yes. Yes!

Valerie takes her hands excitedly, then remembers her discomfort with touch and pulls back. But Isadora mirrors her excitement, choosing to link their hands lightly again. Valerie brightens, launching into all of the wonderful things this could hold for them. Sure, it will require changes, and further understanding of one another as they go, but they have time for that. They have all the time in the world to figure it out.

Regardless, they will have one another. Decisively, like never before.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Stone” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Valerie De La Cruz

Valerie launches into the song first, Isadora easing her way into the harmony. Their voices combine in a delicately powerful duet, accented beautifully with the scenery of Manhattan glittering in the night.

They make their way through the streets, somewhat dancing around one another but actually in step for once. Both of them are smiling as well, the true cause of how bright the evening feels.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay is grooving in his room to his own music, laying out and taking stock of all the auditions he went out for over break. He seems proud of himself, as he should be.

DONNA BABINEAUX knocks on the door, Zay stretching to turn down the music. She skims through the papers on his desk, asking what he’s been up to all holiday running in and out. He eagerly tells her all about the stuff he went out for, Donna brightening the more he discusses it. Once he concludes she exchanges a double high-five with him before pulling him into a hug, planting a kiss on top of his head until he manages to shrug away.

Still, Donna is far from oblivious. She innocently questions what brought on this sudden surge of ambition. Zay falters, just for a moment, then maintains his positive demeanor as he shrugs. He claims senior year is right around the corner. May as well start doing all he can to leave an impression.

For now, Donna leaves it be. She reiterates how proud she is of him one more time before telling him goodnight. Alone again, Zay glances at his desk spread again and another smile drifts onto his face. Settling on his bed, he reclines comfortably and shifts to looking at his phone, on instinct going to send a message to Charlie.

Once the message thread is open, however, he freezes. The searing reminder of the state their relationship is in hits him all at once, temporarily forgotten in the hustle of utilizing his spring break. So in some ways, his initial reason for setting out to break ground succeeded -- only it hurts far more to return to reality than he anticipated.

His fingers hesitate over the keyboard, totally at a loss.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

As it turns out, Charlie is feeling the exact same way. He’s at his laptop, message thread open with Zay and trying to figure out what to say. Obviously desperate to say something, but not having any idea how he could.

The indecision will remain for a bit longer. He avoids it again, exiting out of the messages and returning back to his browser. A few of the tabs he had open at school are on screen again, giving us a better look at what he’s actually investigating.

Other arts schools. Transfer applications. The one on screen is for Haverford Prep, but it’s just one of many. It would require a whole other round of auditions all over again, but it’s clear for some reason, he’s putting the option on the table.

Charlie may not fix his problems at all.

He might run instead.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle opens the door for one final visitor, expression going blank when he locks eyes with Maya. She returns his stare, more prideful in her stature, but clearly there by choice.

Farkle, stunned: Maya.

Maya: … that’s my name, yes. So flattered you remember. [ a beat ] Are you going to invite me in?

Farkle: Oh, uh… yeah. Yes.

Farkle steps back, but Maya hardly waits for him to move. She breezes past him, Farkle somewhat dazed and low energy and nowhere able to battle with her this afternoon.

She enters the living room with more familiarity than any of the other classmates, eyeing the cocoon that Farkle has built for himself on the couch. The reality of his situation dismantles her bold facade, and she only minimally manages to repair it.

Farkle asks Maya how her break was, and she claims refreshing. She fires back the same question to him, and he shrugs indicatively towards the dent on the couch.

Farkle: I’m sure you can imagine.

She can. Silence settles between them, uncertain. Farkle breaks it first, launching into an apology with the same uneasy tempo as when he spoke to Charlie.

Farkle: You have every right to be upset with me. For everything I did. You should hate me, and I would understand it. I should never have let my jealousy dominate my actions, and furthermore, expose a secret you meant to keep under wraps. That you shared with me in confidence --

Maya, resigned: I don’t care about any of that, Farkle.

Farkle: … you… you don’t. You don’t care. No?

Maya hesitates, inhaling a breath. She searches for what she wants to say, crossing her arms.

Maya: The attempt to keep my... financial circumstances a secret was kind of a fool’s bet anyway. It had to come out eventually. And the video was far more embarrassing for you than me -- I think we can agree you more than paid for that.

Farkle doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t interrupt. He’s more consumed by how great it is to talk to her again, how it feels to be back on the same page in some shape or form. No longer outcasted from her life, at least for a moment.

Maya: It was just… [ tentative ] I don’t have time to waste. I don’t have time to waste on people who aren’t worth the effort. And I thought -- I’ve had my experience with people who don’t keep their promises. I’ve had enough of it, forever, and so when you couldn’t be there for me and then twisted everything around, even when you said… even when we agreed to drop the antics…

Farkle, softly: I know.

Maya: So I thought the solution was the same. The last time someone hurt me this way, they left, and that solved the problem. I never had to deal with them again because they were out of my life. [ a beat ] Only I’m realizing that didn’t really solve anything. They’re gone, but the hurt is still there. Nothing about that situation is ever going to change, and it’s always going to hurt. Even with time.

Farkle: … but…

Maya: But… maybe, here, things could still change. If we make the right choices, better choices, then no one has to go. [ unusually fragile ] I don’t want you to go.

The additional meaning behind the sentiment goes without saying. Farkle swallows, realizing that the ball in his court now. Maya’s opening the door for him again, conditions attached, and he has to demonstrate that he’s capable of the privilege. That he’s capable of change.

So he tries to communicate it, in the best form of communication they know.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Thinking Of Him / I Miss the Music Reprise” as performed by Curtains Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Maya Hart

A direct parallel to Farkle’s former performance in 204, he kicks off the soft duet with sincerity.

Farkle: What was I thinking when I let you slip away? [ a beat ] Oh, yeah…

He admits all the ways in which he was selfish or misguided in the past year, culminating in that emotional and vulnerable declaration (“But why pretend? I missed the music, I missed my friend”). As Maya joins in, she eases her way back towards him. Both of them end up on the couch, singing in harmony for the first time in what feels like ages.

Maya wraps her arms around his, gently resting her head against his shoulder. A smile slowly blooms across his face, and he allows himself to tilt his head back against hers.

I choose the music I make with you, I love the music I make with you.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Upon return to school from break, Jack is back in his office and going through all of the new correspondence and paperwork that has piled up.

Lucas appears in his doorway, lightly knocking. Jack lifts his gaze, waiting for an explanation without a word. Lucas holds up the community service form, all filled out.

Lucas: Just needs your signature.

Jack nods, gesturing him in as he searches for a pen. Lucas waits patiently as he signs on the bottom to verify the hours, handing it back to him promptly. No praise, no congratulations. Just the expected transaction.

Lucas wasn’t expecting anything else. He folds the paper and starts to back out of the office, about to let that be that. But he hesitates, thinking about the past week and all of the other bold choices he’s had to make.

Lucas: I know I messed up.

Jack stiffens, not expecting there to be more either. He pauses to listen, leveling his gaze to watch Lucas. He keeps his expression politely neutral.

Lucas: Kind of seems like that’s all I do. And maybe it is. [ a beat ] But I’m going to try. I’m gonna make it right. I’m gonna make it up to you. I swear.

Lucas holds his gaze, not flinching away from the honesty. Meaning every word of it, and wanting it to be crystal clear.

Then he exits, not wasting another second. Jack stares at where he left, honestly not anticipating this earnest curveball. He has to blink to shake it off, the process of being emotionally removed no longer so plain and simple as it should be in theory.

He settles into his desk, aiming to distract himself via work instead. As he opens his desktop and goes to their email server, a message in his inbox seems to catch his attention. It’s from Evelyn Rand, school board member, and the subject line is a true attention-getter.

“Did you see this?”

Jack opens the email, skimming the message. From what he can tell, Evelyn has forwarded him a complaint that was filed with them over the course of spring break. It’s leveled against AAA, and the last line of her email stands out in particular.

“They intend to go public with this, from what I understand. What are you planning to do?”

Jack’s neutral demeanor is long gone. He frowns as he opens the attachment she’s sent, waiting impatiently as the compiled report on the complaint loads up. It’s a boisterous, flashy campaign against AAA for their “unfair enrollment procedures,” highlighting how personal favors and “special cases” gain coveted spots rather than hard-working, well-deserved, young talent willing to put in the effort and pay the price of admission.

It’s a smear tactic if there ever was one -- filed by a very indignant family -- but the tactic itself is hardly what causes the concern on Jack’s face. It’s the subject they’ve chosen to be their pièce de résistance, the perfect example of how “corrupt” and “unmerited” the current enrollment is.

Lucas James Friar. His school portrait staring back at Jack from the center of the complaint, promising to be the unwitting key talking point for what might very turn out to be an unpleasant and loudly public Bradford temper tantrum.

Break time is definitely over.

END OF EPISODE.

[smithsullivan]

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[artlessictoan]

ao3 req again, for any character watching butch!sak work out, which could not be more tailor-made for me specifically. decided to go with tenten since she hasn’t got any attention with this batch of reqs! also this might’ve gotten away with me and basically turned into teppu……… not that that’s ever a bad thing.

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

Tenten had many important things to be doing right now.

She had paperwork that had been waiting for several days now and if she didn’t get on it soon her boss was going to kill her with one of his trademark ‘casual’ exercise routines; she could also help out with the clean-down of her last class, but Neji was very particular and didn’t look fondly on her ‘get it done quick’ attitude; and she had promised Lee that she would poke her head into his junior judo class at some point today and help out.

But, why would she do any of that, when she could just keep casually leaning against a wall, watching in rapt fascination as muscles pulled and stretched.

“Do you mind?”

Tenten didn’t bother to look in the woman’s eyes, instead keeping her own fixed on the thick arms that were straining and completely uncovered for her viewing pleasure. “Nope,” she said with a wide grin.

There was a low grumble, but she apparently didn’t care enough to stop her push-ups. Tenten had seen her around quite a bit recently, ever since the Might Dojo officially joined with the Hatake Gym – nominally because only together could they afford the rent of the new, larger facilities they’d both been eyeing up, but really because Gai and Kakashi were both sick of trying to find an apartment with reasonably short commutes to both of their former work-places since deciding to finally move in together – but she hadn’t spoken to her outside of some idle greetings during staff meetings.

Honestly, she didn’t know why she hadn’t leapt on her sooner, Sakura was exactly her type; short, athletic, striking, handsome looks, a cute undercut and could probably easily throw her twenty feet in the air. Maybe not quite as butch as Tenten herself was, but pretty close.

“So-” she pushed herself off the wall and stepped closer, mostly just to get a better look at the back muscles tensing with each controlled descent “-you’re an instructor too, right?”

Green eyes briefly glanced over her wide, beautiful shoulders, before dropping back to the floor as she effortlessly pressed down and pushed herself back up. “Yes, and I’ve got a class starting in fifteen, so could you maybe let me warm up in peace?”

Tenten wasn’t one to be easily deterred. “Oh? What’re ya teaching?”

“You don’t know your own gym’s schedule?” Her voice wasn’t even a little strained, even at her fifteenth rep.

“Eh, as long as I know what I’m doing then I don’t see why I need to learn everything else that’s going on.” How much trouble would she get in if she tried sitting on her back right now? She could surely take the more extreme work out.

With a grunt, Sakura finished her push-ups and rose to her feet. Tenten wanted to pout at her lost opportunity, but her attention was quickly reclaimed when she stepped up to one of the punching bags lining the walls. “I’m teaching MMA,” the woman said, checking the tape on her fists before launching into a standard set of punches.

She could smell on opportunity here. Smirking, Tenten sauntered over and stood very pointedly within the woman’s sight. “That beginner level, sweetheart?”

The full-body twitch was more than worth having to dodge the bag sent flying toward her.

Ok, maybe she’d been asking for that. She let out a chuckle and moved closer again, coming up to her side and leaning down to whisper in her ear, “C’mon, you’re not getting anything out of this old thing, why don’t you give me a shot?”

“You want to spar?” Sakura asked, pausing in her set for a brief moment, before launching back full-force.

“Hell yes.”

Bright eyes gave her a quick once over, lingering on her arms – crossed and slightly tensed, to better show off her biceps – and legs – carefully positioned to give her a generous view of inner thigh – before returning to her face with a determined look. “Let me guess, muay thai?”

She shrugged as she said, “I’ve dabbled in most things, but I actually specialise in kali, arnis, y’know, FMA in general.” Her own eyes gave Sakura a lingering examination, trailing perfectly-defined muscles like the small beads of sweat slowly trailing down her golden skin. “And you look like a classic striker to me, bet you’ve trained as a boxer.”

“A little,” she said shortly, adding a few extra punches to her drill. Still playing coy? She could work with that.

With practised nonchalance, Tenten stepped just behind the other woman, hovering just out of range of the elbows that sharply drew back before each punch, then leaned forwards to whisper in her ear, “Sooo? You wanna do it?”

There was only the slightest shudder in response. Disappointing. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Hey, I’m dtf any time.”

The red bloomed across the back of her ears like a rose, the colour even reached her neck. Tenten could only imagine how hot her face must feel in that moment.

Aww, she’s shy, how cute.

Green eyes immediately narrowed on her as she spun in place to glare up at her. “Are you being serious right now?” she spluttered out, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and indignation, but Tenten definitely wasn’t imagining the hint of excitement lurking at the edges.

“Down to fight, babe,” she said, her most lascivious smirk spreading across her face. “Why, what did you think I meant?”

Tenten was about five seconds from getting a fist in her stomach, if the look on her face was anything to go by, but she just could not stop herself from leaning down to better meet the shorter woman’s eyes and fluttering her lashes with her best puppy-dog pout on her lips. “One spar won’t hurt, c’mon, first to ten points?”

Clearly she was still hesitant, but impatience was slowly growing in her eyes. Just a light nudge and she’d probably snap.

All it took was for Tenten to playfully knock their noses together.

“Make that first to submission and we have a deal.” She was now blazing with a dangerous mix of determination and excitement.

Is this what love felt like?

“Oho, confidence!” Tenten’s laughter was a little giddy, but she didn’t care, already skipping back and dropping into her preferred fighting stance; her hands held close to her face and knees slightly bent. “I like that, lets see how long it lasts.”

Sakura snorted, but quickly took her own stance, more open, and significantly lower.

They lightly tapped their leading fists together, before launching into a rapid flurry of movement, Tenten blocked the punch immediately aimed at her head, jumped back to avoid the knee following it, while Sakura stepped in after every attack, aiming to close distance and keep Tenten moving.

Was she wary of strikes? Kali was admittedly more suited to that than grappling, but if she really thought that Tenten didn't have some tricks up her sleeve she was gonna be in for a rough time.

Grinning, she ducked under a vicious left hook and launched herself into Sakura’s chest, knocking her back onto the padded floor. She didn't wait for her to recover, crawling up the woman's strong, beautiful body to try and get her right arm in a lock.

This close, it was so much easier to see the well-developed muscles fluttering under dark skin, glistening in a light sheen of sweat. Despite the familiar smell of much-borrowed boxing gloves – one that Tenten knew from experience would take much scrubbing and an entire bar of soap to fully wash out – there was a pleasant muskiness and a sharp, fresh scent that filled her entire head with thoughts of burying her face into that delicious skin and just dragging her tongue-

In her brief moment of distraction, Tenten’s right arm was tucked under Sakura’s elbow, one heavy leg draped over her shoulder, trapping her upper body close to Sakura’s stomach.

Oh? Tenten experimentally tried to shift her arm into a better position, Sakura responded by pushing it away, pulling her other leg until it could wrap around her neck to meet the other. She didn’t need to be able to see it to feel how both ankles crossed tightly against her back, thick muscles tensing against her face. A picture-perfect triangle choke; apparently the woman was more comfortable with grappling than she’d given her credit for.

“You know,” Tenten said, giving herself as much room to breathe as Sakura would allow – which wasn’t much, clearly she didn’t take it easy, even for a casual spar – and flashing a grin at her captor, “I always wanted to die with my head trapped between the magnificent thighs of a gorgeous woman.”

The speed at which her entire face went red was truly astounding and, judging by the look on her face, she was very seriously considering granting that wish.

Her arm was quickly grabbed and twisted back until Tenten was forced to submit, tapping her free hand against the nearest leg until she was released, she immediately rolled away and looked to the ceiling, chest heaving and arm aching as she tried to recover. So light-headed was she, that when the head of pink hair dropped into her sight, she immediately let out a winded giggle and raised a shaky hand to poke her nose.

“Best of three?”

---

[creative-type]

The Murder of Arthur Wright VIII

First Previous AO3

Chapter Eight: A Name on a Tombstone

Margot slunk back to the drawing room just as the guests were lining up for the funeral procession. Six pallbearers stood around the casket—now devoid of flowers, photographs, and crepe—while everyone else lined up according to prominence. Margot knew her place was near the back, behind remaining family, close friends and work relations, and was able to take advantage of the commotion to slide next to Cain.

“Cutting it a little close, Prof. Was starting to get worried about you,” he said.

Margot took the photograph out of her pocket and surreptitiously passed it to him. “I told you I could take care of myself.”

The line moved forward. There were not as many people present as Margot would have expected, perhaps thirty or forty altogether. It seemed like Mrs. Wright had only invited those closest to the family for her husband’s funeral. Margot briefly wondered how large a part Felix had played in getting them here in the first place.

Cain moved carefully so that Margot was shielding him and glanced down at the photograph. He made no noise of surprise, but went very still for a moment before tucking it into his coat pocket.

“That’s certainly something,” he said under his breath.

“I’m not sure we can take it out of the house,” Margot said. “There are some pretty strong spells against theft.”

“Figured as much. Don’t worry, this coat’s not just for show.”

They reached the entranceway before Margot had a chance to ask what he meant. She tried not to look worried as a servant led them to a waiting carriage at the end of the funeral party (black, of course, with black horses pulling. Margot would die a happy woman if she never saw so much black again for the rest of her life).

No alarm bells went off. No one came screaming out of the house saying they had been robbed. Nothing extraordinary happened whatsoever.

Margot raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Cain smirked. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was no more opportunity to talk. They shared a carriage with a somber elf Margot thought was a paid mourner, and shortly after squeezing in to a space that had not accounted for an orcs size they lurched into motion.

The funeral procession was appropriately slow, and through the curtains Margot could see men and woman step to the side of the road out of respect for the dead. It took nearly twice as long to ride to the small cemetery just outside the village of Belmont than it had to walk to the estate.

From there the procession turned into a march. The funeral party gathered into two lines, starting with the pallbearers and ending with Margot and Cain. They walked into the heart of the cemetery where Maser Wright’s grave lay waiting openmouthed to receive him.

Margot paid little mind to the man reciting the final rites. He gave the usual speeches and made a valiant effort of comforting the surviving family. To Margot’s ear he sounded a little too formal, a little too scripted, to be effective.

Most of her attention was taken by the funeral-goers themselves. It was difficult to get a decent view from the back of the crowd, but she could see Felix standing stoically next to his weeping wife. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and drew her in close, only to drop it awkwardly by his side when his mother shot him a sharp glare.

Margot’s book of etiquette had been silent in the area of how a husband was to comfort his wife during the funeral of his father, but that seemed cruel even by the strictest elf’s code of socially acceptable behavior. Her gaze slid to Mrs. Wright. Her posture was perfect and yet somehow effortless, her natural dignity and grace in no way diminished by the widow’s cap she wore like a crown.

There were few things in life that Margot let bother her, but she found Mrs. Wright’s demeanor unsettling. Margot had no difficulty believing that she was the sort of woman who would tell her circle of friends that her daughter had eloped with an orc and mean it as some sort of insult.

You’re just being paranoid, Margot scolded herself. Jumping to conclusions because of a forgotten photograph.

Perhaps, but that didn’t explain the conspicuous absence of Abigail Wright.

Margot was still stewing on the complicated relationship between the Wrights when the speaker finished and beckoned Felix forward. Felix waited as an unnatural hush fell over the already subdued crowd.

“On behalf of the family, I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming,” he began. “My father deserves something far greater than a simple tombstone near a sleepy village, but he was a simple man of simple tastes. May his soul find rest in the home of his forefathers, and may we never forget all that he has done.”

An appreciative murmur rippled through the funeral party. Felix swallowed thickly. “It is said that it is the curse of dreamers that they never get to see the dawn. My father died at the cusp of greatness, but do not allow his untimely end take away from the accomplishments of life. Countless mages, myself included, got their start under my father’s teaching, and the theories he developed will drive the world of magical research for decades to come. He held himself to the same standard of excellence he expected of those around him, and the world is better for it. May he…may he rest in peace forever.”

At this cue the casket was lowered into the ground. Felix stood at the edge of his father’s grave with his head bowed, lips moving silently. When he looked up again his face was drawn with grim determination.

It was traditional for elf families to bury their own dead, and as Master Wright’s first and only son that duty fell on Felix’s shoulders. While the onlookers watched he gathered a large heap of dirt with his magic, meadow green energy encasing rich black earth.

Suddenly everyone was moving, Margot a beat behind the rest. “What’s going on?” she whispered to Cain.

“Last viewing, then it’s back to the Wright’s so everyone can go home,” Cain said. “I expect they’ll be a meal for the closest family and friends, but we don’t qualify.”

“And the burial?” Margot asked. “I don’t think he got more than six inches worth of dirt in there.”

“Someone’ll see to the rest after we’re gone. What’d you think of Wright junior’s eulogy?”

Margot was still trying to wrap her mind around elven funeral practices and hadn’t given it much thought. “It was nice enough, I suppose. I think he was right that his father wouldn’t have wanted anything grander than this.”

“You don’t think this is plenty grand?” Cain asked.

“It’s expensive. The terms aren’t synonymous.”

“Fair enough.”

Once again they found themselves at the back of the line. One by one people stopped to offer their final words, either to Master Wright or his family who was standing near the grave. Finally Margot and Cain were standing in front of Mrs. Wright, Felix, and Isabella.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Margot said. The two Mrs. Wrights inclined their heads, the elder perfectly poised and the younger’s eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying.

“Thank you for taking the time to come out on such short notice,” Felix said. There were still faint streaks of pink on his face from his burn. “I hope I haven’t interrupted your work.”

The corner of his brown eyes crinkled with silent question. Cain nodded solemnly. “Not at all, Mr. Wright. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He scratched his forehead awkwardly. “Forgive my impropriety, but might I have a word in private? I’ve news the gentler sex might find upsetting on this already upsetting day.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Adaline asked. “Felix?”

“Your son has asked I look into a potential investor for Master Wright’s Teleportation device,” Cain said. “Again I apologize for impropriety, but I’ve time sensitive information he’ll find of interest. After all,” he added, letting his eyes flutter to the ground, “it wouldn’t be right for Master Wright’s research go unfinished.”

“Now is not a good time,” Felix said coolly.

“It’ll just take a moment,” Cain said, and before Felix could answer Cain had taken him by the elbow and half-drug him to a more private area.

“How dare he,” Adaline said, grey eyes blazing like quicksilver. “How dare that orc!”

“I’m sure he didn’t know,” Isabella murmured. “Orcs have such…different funeral customs.”

Adaline looked like she wanted to say more, after a glance at Margot stayed her tongue. Frosty tension sprung up between mother- and daughter-in-law. Sensing it would be best to be any place else, Margot cleared her throat. “I’ll just go make sure they’re doing okay.”

Margot hurried over to Cain, slowing only when she saw the fury in Felix’s eyes. She heard him hiss under his breath, “How dare you! My sister has nothing to do with this.”

It took a great deal of effort not to rub her suddenly aching forehead. If Cain was hoping to endear himself to the Wright family, he was failing miserably.

“I’m just asking where she is,” Cain said soothingly. “It’s a curious thing, you being so adamant Desdemona had something to do with your father’s death and failing to even mention the existence of another sister.”

“Abigail is on the other side of the continent, married to a diplomat,” Felix spat. “She has done nothing wrong—“

“You’re a terrible liar, Wright,” Cain said. “If your sister was in the family’s good graces she would have been mentioned among surviving relatives. Neither of your sisters were spoken of during the services, nor did any of the other guests so much as say her name. I talked to a dozen people today, and not a one mentioned their regrets that Abigail couldn’t make it. I believe for a second a diplomat’s wife wouldn’t be able to make it home for her father’s funeral.”

All of the color left Felix’s face.

“Where is your sister, Mr. Wright?” Cain asked.

“You didn’t see, Mr. Cain?” Felix said bitterly. “Her headstone was right next to Father’s.”

There was a beat of silence. “Your sister’s dead?”

Felix clenched his fists, the tendons in his hands stretching taunt against his skin. “It’s none of your business, but yes, my sister is dead. Desdemona’s selfishness affected her most of all, and she never recovered.”

“What do you mean by that?” Margot asked.

“What do you think I mean?” Felix spat. “Abigail had always been sensitive and reserved, and Father made the mistake of letting her study magic. It…confused her, and when Desdemona left…”

Felix’s gaze drifted over to his family. “I’m eight years older than my sisters. I never understood how close twins could be until I had my boys. Abigail was devastated when Desdemona ran away. She withdrew into herself entirely, and there was nothing anyone could do to help her.”

“I didn’t know,” Cain said.

“Few do, and it’s not something that’s spoken of in polite company,” Felix said. His shoulders slumped, and he looked suddenly weary. “We weren’t even able to dredge the body out of the river.”

“So you tell people she’s married to a diplomat instead?” Margot said.

Felix fixed her a steely glare. “You wouldn’t understand. Desdemona is an embarrassment, but what Abigail did…It’s better this way. Now if you excuse me, my family needs me, and you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Just as well. The professor and I needed to catch a ride home anyway,” Cain said.

“Don’t forget what you’ve been tasked to do, Mr. Cain,” Felix said, making it sound like a threat. “Desdemona is responsible for this. All of this. Find her, and bring her to justice.”

He strode away in a manner that was eerily similar to his mother. Margot and Cain watched as the Wright family gathered into a waiting carriage at the head of the funeral party.

Cain removed his hat and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. One by one the horses left the cemetery, until only he and Margot remained. Once they were alone he reached into his coat pocket and fished out a stick of jerky.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Cain said quietly before walking slowly back to the gravesite. Only instead of stopping where an elf was filling in the rest of Master Wright’s grave he sauntered over to the next headstone over.

It was a simple slab of granite, nondescript almost to the point of invisibility compared to the more elaborate monuments of the cemetery. There were no flowers or memorials that surrounded it, only a name and a simple line of verse.

Abigail Wright

Her Life A Beautiful Memory Her Absence A Silent Grief

“Well I’ll be &#@!@*,” Cain said.

“What is it?” Margot asked.

“Look at the dates.”

Margot squinted down at the headstone. Abigail Wright had been dead for three years, almost to the day. She had only been twenty-seven years old.

“Didn’t you say Master Wright hired Mr. Westmacott three years ago?” she asked.

Cain chewed thoughtfully on his jerky. “Sure did, and I think I’m starting to understand why.”

Cain was silent for the majority of the ride back to Kempteson. He took up as much space of the carriage as he was able without impinging on Margot, his head tilted towards the roof of the carriage as he went through piece after piece of jerky.

Margot let him be and tried her best not to be put off by his manner. She recognized a man deep in thought when she saw one, and of the two of them he was the one who knew what he was doing. Her own thoughts were a muddled mess, trying to make sense of what she’d learned. It was only as the city first came into view that Cain spoke.

“I was ten when my grandpa died,” he said slowly. “My dad’s dad. I remember it was yesterday.”

Cain took the piece of jerky out of his mouth, holding it like it was a cigarette. “When my dad went up to say his bit he talked about how thoughtful my grandpa was, how big his heart was and his generosity. He didn’t once mention that he was a pretty good carpenter, too.” He looked down at Margot for the first time since they left the cemetery.

“Everyone’s been talking about Wright’s accomplishments with magic. Not one person’s spoken up about the kind of man he was. His own wife didn’t shed a tear as he was being lowered into the ground.”

“Do you think someone in the family tampered with Master Wright’s work?” Margot said, troubled.

Cain shrugged. “Dunno. Wright had enemies, and there were plenty of people who don’t want to see his work come to fruition. But Wright was cautious—how could his enemies get close if not through someone he trusted?”

“I heard Master Wright left the university ten years ago,” she said. “That’s when he disowned his daughter.”

“And seven years later he hires Mr. Westmacott right around the time his other daughter commits suicide. Not to mention that somewhere along the line the son’s gotten on a first-name basis with the mob.” His eyebrows drew together as he thought. “You know, I’m pretty good at reading lips, and Wright junior told his old man to go to hell right before lowering him in the ground.”

“You’re sure about that?” Margot said.

“As sure as I can be,” Cain said. “Mark my words, there’s bad blood between father and son.”

Margot took a moment to digest what he’d said. “How does Anansi fit into all of this?”

“Quite the stumper, isn’t it?” He rubbed his jaw before reaching in his inside coat pocket. Carefully he unfolded the faded photograph, tapping with one thick finger the girl in the ringlets.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I’ve seen this girl before,” Cain said. “She was all grown up, but there are some expressions that just don’t change.”

“When?” Margot asked.

“Three years ago, and again at the mage’s conference right before it all blew to hell. I swear this girl’s my dame. If I’m right, then Master Wright was having Mr. Westmacott trail Desdemona when Abigail died.”

“And if you’re right, Desdemona and Felix both were at the scene of the crime when Master Wright was killed,” Margot said.

They stared at one another. They had gone to Master Wright’s funeral searching for answers and had come away with more questions. Margot had agreed to help Cain assuming that some outside force had somehow tampered with Master Wright’s research, but what if his murderer was literally someone closer to home?

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but there’s no smoke without fire,” Cain said, tucking the photograph back into his pocket. “I think it’s time we focus on finding Desdemona Wright.”

[idxking-blog]

》Open the Iron Door

For: @idjiyeon​ Word Count: 823 words Plot: King approaches the sub-unit Nightmare to compliment their unconventional performance and musical work. (edited 04/11/18)

"Okay! Thank you XLNC! We're finished!"

"Thank you!" The boys chimed one after the other as they bowed to the staff and to the fans in the crowd.

King gave a tight smile while he waved to the XL-ENTs that screamed their names and feverishly waved their hands as the boys slowly took their leave from the stage. He followed his members and manager to the back rooms of the MBC Music Premier building and to their designated space with the other idols that had finished their pre-recording sessions.

Each member went about their own business as usual. One had plans to develop a new concept for their Youtube channel, while another wanted to meet with one of his old trainee friends while they still had some time. King, however, quietly retreated to the back of the room where he had placed his things. He shouldered his book bag, pocketed his cellphone and wordlessly left the room to survey the other rooms in the hall. Many of the younger groups were placed in large holding rooms that were only separated by cheaply built cubicles, but the more popular groups like Aurora that were part of a large company like Midas, were fortunate enough to get their own dressing room. He recalled passing their dressing room on their way to and from their own designated space, and eventually found the paper pasted to a large door that read “Aurora”.

Yeongshik’s stomach fluttered violently as his hand rose to knock on the door. He hesitated a moment when he heard the soft fluttering sound of feminine laughter coming from down the hall. He immediately side-stepped from the door and fumbled for his phone in a pathetic and unconvincing attempt to look busy. When the laughter faded down the adjacent hallway he shakily exhaled his fears through his pursed, painted lips.

“A’ight. We can do this.” He murmured to his reflection on the black surface of his phone.

The young idol shook out his shaggy hair and carefully pushed parts of it back in place and stuffed his phone into his back pocket. His clammy hands rubbed a little too hard against the ripped denim pants at his side as he cleared his throat. After a moment of taking in one more deep breath in and out, he finally knocked on the door. The chatter on the other side of the door came to a bone-chilling halt. For a moment Yeongshik wondered if his heart might drop right through his digestive system and run away without him, but the second he heard the door handle turn from the opposite side, he squared his shoulders. King smiled brightly through the small crack through the door, and bowed his head deeply as he introduced himself.

“Hello! It’z XLNC’s King! I’m here with’uh gift from th’group! It’s- uh-“ He panicked a moment, realizing he didn’t actually have his gift in hand. He ungracefully swung his bag over his shoulder, as though he was swinging his guitar, and fumbled with the zipper. He pulled the opening wider and revealed a collection of his group’s latest single album, “What Can I Do”. He pulled one out from his bag and held it up, partially to cover his face.

“I have one fer each member ov Aurora,” he made no attempt to hide his thick Gyeongsang-do dialect. “That iz, if y’all would like ‘un.”

He held the small album further out in front of him so that the woman at the door would have easier access. He had kept his eyes downcast, and only now took the time to look up at the person who answered him, and past her to the other women that were in the room curiously looking through the small crack in the door. They were all dressed beautifully in their cute outfits. Generally Yeongshik didn’t care about what he wore, but as XLNC’s King, he felt severely under-dressed in his ripped jeans, and plaid button-down shirt and black bomber jacket that was just a little too warm for indoors and the blinding lights of the stage he had just come from.

“I jus’ wanted t’let y’all know how much I ‘preciate th’type o’muzic you’ve been doin’. ‘S’not easy in’an industry like this one.” He chuckled softly while offering a lopsided smile.

As he reflected on his comment, he wondered if he was in the right to make such an assumption. A lot of artists in this businesses had no say in what they could or couldn’t do, and XLNC was no exception. Even though they were still in his preferred vein of music, ‘pop rock’ wasn’t exactly what he expected to do for the rest of his life. It was only now that he wondered if these girls actually wanted to do the style of music that they were doing. But the young guitarist wanted to express his appreciation and admiration to the group as a junior in the industry. Even though he couldn't call himself a fan of their style of music, over the course of the years he had been performing he realized that there was a lot of hardship that came with the title of 'idol'. He wanted to do better to share his appreciation to his seniors and hopefully learn a thing or two should any opportunities arise.