#all i need to do now is ask for a payment raise on my studio if they would want some of this magic i guess

[keferon]

..so. I guess I can do these in 3D now haha

[dreamescapeswriting]

You Weren’t Here ~ OT7 [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 4K

↬↬↬Genre: Platonic, ot7, angst

↬↬↬Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

↬↬↬WARNINGS: Mentions of abandonment

Your whole life it had just been you and your siblings which was why it had been so weird when you first began your friendship with the rest of the boys, Yoongi had known you your whole life but when he introduced you to the boys you hadn't expected to get along so well. Now you were best friends with all seven boys and having the best time of your life working alongside them. You were a stylist for BigHit which meant wherever they went you went.

"I'm telling you it was him! I totally saw him!" Namjoon said loudly while he stuffed a spring roll into his mouth claiming that it was Jungkook who had been the one to eat your final one,

"Hmm Mmm and I'm the Queen of England, you owe me a spring roll!" You laughed loudly hearing the doorbell of your apartment door go off, you frowned - you weren't expecting anyone except for the boys and they were all with you so you wondered who it could have been.

"Did you order more food Kookie?" You asked as you gazed out of the window to see a car sitting on the side of the road next to your apartment building,

"Nope." You frowned, Yoongi got up from the sofa to see what was who it could have been he knew you had a few paparazzi following you around since you'd been spotted a little closer with the boys and himself but the records had been set straight that you were all just friends. That was when you noticed the number plate and so did Yoongi, you locked eyes with one another.

"You don't think-" You couldn't even finish the thought nevermind the sentence it was far too hard for you to even try and think about him,

"It's been seven years do you think he would just come back?" Jin scowled as he watched you and Yoongi have half of a conversation where they weren't included he wanted to know what was going on but he could tell by the pained expression on your face it wasn't a good thing you were talking about.

"What's been seven years?" Jimin questioned finally coming into the conversation and not having his head stuck in his phone like he always did,

"My erm...My dad." You stuttered out rubbing the back of your neck nervously as the doorbell rang again, he seemed to be getting impatient standing at the door.

"Your dad?" They all asked in unison, they knew the story of your father. He'd been in and out of your life since the day you'd turned 15, deciding when and where he wanted to be a part of your life and leaving you to raise your siblings for him.

"Y/n?" You were staring into space for so long you'd managed to blank out everything happening around you apart from the memories of your father. Yoongi knew how this was going to plan out, your father would come back like he always did when he needed something but leave the second he got it it was how it worked with him but you made excused for him. Telling people that it wasn't his fault he just wasn't meant to have kids, that he was doing the best he could with the situation he was in.

"Shall I tell him to leave?" Yoongi's hand being placed on your waist brought you back to the present time and you looked up at him and shook your head.

"I want to see him," You whispered brushing off your hands and slowly making your way to the front door trying to remember the last time you'd actually seen him properly without seeing him through a glass panel at a prison or a rehab centre. Yoongi was anxious for you, he'd made it clear from the start that he'd never liked your father and that was because he could see right through everything he did for you, Yoongi didn't take the bullshit excuses for him. If you made a child you shouldn't just abandon them because you couldn't be bothered to raise them, he'd done that with you and all six of your siblings. Leaving you to be the one to pick up the pieces since your mother wasn't in the picture at all.

When you finally pulled open the door your dad was standing there in a rotten flannel shirt, jeans filled with holes that didn't look designer.

"I didn't get the wrong place!" He threw his arms around your neck as though it had been 7 days since he saw you not 7 weeks but you didn't hug him back you were too shocked to even remove your hand from the door handle.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" You whispered hating that you reduced yourself to a whisper in front of him but you didn't know what else to do, every inch of your body was telling you to hug him back. That he was your father and you missed him but your head was telling you not to trust a single thing he was doing,

"Oh- You have guests...I thought you would be alone, I'm sorry-" He lied looking at you and shaking his head - he knew you had guests. He'd seen the cars in the driveway it was what he was counting on to get inside of your house - he began promising he would come back another time but you took his hand in yours telling him it was fine.

"We have some leftover food, why don't you come and join us?" He smiled kindly at you following you through to the living room where the boys all stared at him,

"Guys this is my dad, dad this is Jin, Namjoon, Hobi, Tae, Jimin, Jungkook and you already know Yoongi." They all shook your father's hand while Yoongi watched him from a distance, he already had a bad feeling about this so he was going to keep an eye on him for as long as he could.

"I don't want to take up much of your time Y/n, can I talk to you in private?" Yoongi really didn't like the thought of that but you took your father into the kitchen ready to hear anything he had to say to you.

"Do you want some tea?" You offered, tea always seemed to make you less anxious for things like these. It gave you something to hold onto while the other person spoke,

"Please." You began making it while he sat down at the marble countertop. He stared around while you made the tea you seemed to be doing quite well for yourself which meant his plan would be going along well, he shifted on the seat as you came over with some tea for him.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" You questioned sitting opposite him on the barstool and looking at the liquid instead of at him. You were determined not to look at him until you heard a sniffle fall from his lips,

"Dad?" Your voice softened and you stared at him. He had tears running down his face as he tried to speak to you the words failing whenever he tried to open his mouth. You placed your hand over the top of his to try and get him to talk,

"Breathe dad, what is it?" He sighed looking at you and shaking his head at you and holding your hand close to his chest.

"I'm so proud of you-"

"Proud?"

"Afte everything I did to you, everything I put you through and you've turned into this amazing young woman." He reached his other hand out and brushed it against your cheek smiling as he looked into your eyes.

"You've done so well and I just-" He wiped his eyes on a tissue you were giving to him.

"I want you to tell you how sorry I am for everything I put you through. From leaving and coming back all of the time, I promise it will no longer be like that." You went to say something when he started back up again.

"I'm getting my life together I promise, for you. I have a job now, it isn't much but it's something. I'm living in this nice studio apartment until I can save enough to get a job." You smiled at him genuinely feeling happy for your father to finally be piecing things back together again.

"Have you seen the others yet?" You were referring to your siblings who you hadn't seen in a while either but that was because they were all busy with their own lives.

"I'm going to see your brother tomorrow, we're going to go to dinner." You nodded along with him,

"I promise never to let you down again darling, you can always count on me." You couldn't help but feel relieved that he was finally getting things together and promising to spend time with you but you could tell there was something bothering him.

"What else is it dad?" You questioned,

"I just...I don't want you to think this is the only reason I came to you Y/n." He started off slow and looked away from you,

"Dad please."

"I need help with some rent, my boss...He messed up my payments and I just need the rest of the rent money until I can get some from work." You nodded your head at him willing to do anything now that he was promising his life was together.

"H-How much is it?" You slipped out off the barstool and walked towards your handbag that was in the kitchen, grabbing some money from your purse.

"₩675,000," Your jaw dropped open, that was more than what you were paying for your apartment but you took out the cheque book from your purse instead and wrote him out a check,

"I'll give you ₩700,000. You can get some new clothes to go and see Josh in then." You said as you looked up at him, he didn't look like he was going to be ready to go to dinner in what he was wearing and you doubt he had much better at home.

"I can't take this it's-"

"Dad please, just...Just take it okay? You're finally getting yourself together that's all I care about." You folded the cheque up and placed it into his hand while you smiled sweetly at him.

Yoongi didn't trust any of it for a second and headed out to follow your dad after he left your apartment,

"Yoongi where are you going?" You asked as he walked towards the front door,

"Ice cream, you want your favourite?" You nodded your head about to tell him you would go with him but he went alone and followed close behind your dad so he could see what the new scam he was building was. He'd never trusted your father, not since the first time he walked out and left you with your siblings. Yoongi and his family did everything they could to make sure you were okay growing up but you did most of it, attending school while working 3 jobs and raising kids was hard when you were 15 but you managed to make it work. Everyone chipped in, included your youngest sister who was 11 at the time he left, she began running lemonade stands in the summer and hot chocolate ones in the winter to help with funding the house.

"What are you doing?" Yoongi mumbled watching as your father pulled into the driveway of a very expensive looking house, he'd wanted very much for everything your father had told you to be true for your sake but he could see from this that none of it had been.

The front door to the house opened and four kids came running out to gree your dad, throwing their arms around him and calling him dad.

"What are you wearing?!" A woman dressed in a tight-fitting white dress with very expensive looking shoes,

"I just had an old job to do, you know how it is." He laughed loudly picking up the smallest girl and putting her on his shoulders, they all walked into the house happily and Yoongi frowned watching the display. If he was really desperate for money why was he living in such a grand place? Then the garage door opened beside the house and a boy around 16 came out holding some keys, he got into your father's car and backed it into the garage where Yoongi saw 4 other guys all of different value sitting there. Your father wasn't desperate for money it was another scam but how was Yoongi supposed to tell you all of this.

Sitting in the window of your apartment you waited for Yoongi to come back, the rest of the boys were all laughing and joking while playing on the switch Jungkook had brought along with him that morning.

"You want a game?" Jungkook asked waving the small controller in front of your face,

"No, I'm okay-"

"She's waiting for her ice cream." Taehyung laughed watching as your nose was practically glued to the window. It wasn't true, you were waiting for Yoongi he'd told you he had something important to tell you and you didn't like the tone of his voice when he did.

"Can't be anything too bad right? I mean- He didn't sound panicked." Jimin whispered coming up behind you and sitting in the window, you'd answered the call on speakerphone, there was nothing you kept from the boys since you were so close.

"I know but he just sounded...upset?" The door opened before you could elaborate and Yoongi was stood there without the ice cream.

"No ice cream?!" Hoseok asked looking disappointed but he soon stopped when he realised how serious Yoongi looked.

"We should be alone Y/n..." You went to get up when Jimin pulled you back down,

"Anything you have to say you can say in front of us." He told Yoongi and you nodded thinking it couldn't be anything bad so Yoongi took you over to the sofa and sat you down,

"The thing is...I followed your dad." He started off easy wanting to ease you into it and not scare you.

"Right..."

"He's not living in some studio apartment he's in this big house with erm..." He looked down at his hands, he'd been planning this speech the whole ride over here but now he was face to face with you it was harder.

"He has kids, one can't be more than 16 so I'm assuming some of them aren't his but he's got all these cars and a wife." Your brows furrowed together as you tried to piece together what Yoongi was saying, the boys understood right away what was happening and Jimin wrapped his arm around you to try and comfort you but you pushed him away as you got up.

"You're wrong, he wouldn't do that to me-" You were already tearing up because you knew deep down that it was exactly the sort of thing your father would do.

"He wouldn't...He wouldn't lie to me." You stuttered out staring at the floor as tears rolled freely down your cheeks, Yoongi reached out for your hand but you snatched it away.

"No! You're wrong! H-He wouldn't do that to me!" You yelled loudly trying not to imagine him raising someone elses children while he left his own alone and frightened.

"Y/n..." Yoongi said slowly as he looked at you confirming that it was serious, that he wouldn't lie to you about something like this.

"Take me there. I want to see it." Your voice came out colder than you wanted it to but Yoongi nodded his head,

"I'll take you tomorrow when you've calmed down-"

"I want to go tonight, I won't be able to sleep." You whispered looking around for your keys and a jacket but Yoongi held out his own keys telling you that he would drive instead.

Low and behold Yoongi was right, your father came out of the house in a suit and tie that night carrying a bag of rubbish over to a dustbin before a 4-year-old girl came rushing over to him in a gown.

"DADDY!" You flinched at the way she called him dad before he bent down and span her around, you'd imagined him doing that to you when you were a kid but all he ever did was raid your piggy bank for gambling debt money.

"Y/n?" Yoongi placed his hand on yours but you didn't move, you stared at your father as he waited by the garage a black range rover pulled out and he sat her in the back of the car. A string of family members all coming out to greet him with a kiss as he helped them inside, you slowly rolled the window down to hear what they were saying.

"Thank you for this, it'll be nice to go to a dinner that isn't business-related." The woman you were assuming was his wife said as she leant in for a kiss from him.

"I told you, my boss loves treating us." You swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched him be happy with another family the way he'd never been with you.

"Take me home." You whispered to Yoongi looking away from the house and at the floor instead.

"Please." You begged him and he started up the engine driving off towards your apartment instead.

The boys were staying over that night, they didn't want you to be alone after everything that had happened but it was 3 am and you were sitting on the sofa with Yoongi and Jin just staring at the hot chocolate Jin had made you.

"Y/n I'm really sorry," Yoongi started but you shook your head at him, it wasn't his fault your father was the way he was.

"I fell for his lies like I always do Yoongi it's not your fault." You whispered taking a sip from the cup as Jin wrapped a blanket over you and him, he was sitting with your head resting against his shoulder.

"Do you want us to say anything?" You shook your head at Jin's question it would just cause more hassle than it was worth but Yoongi wasn't willing to let this go just like that. You'd been so happy all morning but now you were upset and no one fucked with the people he loved. Especially not your father.

"You should do something though...He has your money." Jin whispered but you yawned and shook your head telling him it was nothing,

"Just leave it, I'm tired I think I'm going to go to sleep...You should too." You told them both but they just stared at one another ready to come up with a plan to deal with your father.

The next morning you woke up to loud yelling and people screaming,

"What the fuck?" You asked throwing yourself out of the bed and heading down to see your father trying to push his way into the house but Yoongi had the chain on the door.

"She doesn't want to hear from you-"

"You don't get to speak for my daughter!" Namjoon's gasp brought Yoongi back to the room and you stared at the door,

"Let him in." You whispered, Yoongi went to protest against it not wanting you to be any more upset than you already were,

"Let him in." You repeated coming down to the bottom floor and staring at the door as you waited for your father to come into the apartment. The chain was removed from the door and your father rushed in, dressed in the same tattered clothes as before and you calmly walked into the living room.

"T-They took everything! They jumped me in the street!" You nodded your head and turned around to face your father who was crying heavily,

"You've gotten good at that, better than before." You said calmly as you looked at him feeling nothing but disgust as you looked at the man who was supposed to be your father.

"Good at what?" He wiped his eyes as he continued to fake his crying,

"Faking your emotions, acting. It's gotten good...You almost had me." You laughed but Yoongi walked into the room standing behind you to try and give you some support but you didn't need it.

"What do your other family think of it? Or is your act with them real?" You folded your arms over your chest staring him down, he went to back out of the living room but Jin and Namjoon took place at the door to stop him from escaping. They weren't going to let him get away with what he did so easily and the fact that he was going to pull another stunt over you was unforgivable.

"Other family...What are you talking about?" He stuttered out as he made eye contact with you and Yoongi who was glaring at him,

"You! You followed me home last night! You watched me!" He yelled pointing his finger at Yoongi as he began to yell out curse words,

"Don't! Don't you dare pin this on someone else! You have another family! A whole other life!?" You'd finally lost your cool, you weren't going to let him get away with this. Seeing him now and seeing how he was going to try something again sent you over the edge and you lost it.

"I started a new family, so what?" He told you as though it was no big deal and you scoffed at him.

"You didn't even finish this family off first!" You yelled loudly throwing your hands up in the air in defeat,

"You abandoned us! I had to be more than a sister to my siblings, I had to be a mother, a father, the main provider! Everything!" All the pent up anger you had for him was spilling out as you finally unleashed everything you'd felt towards him over the years.

"No! I love you! I didn't abandon you!... I just...I couldn't do the parent thing!" You scoffed at him, he couldn't do the whole parenting thing but he was raising another woman's kids,

"How long have you been with her?" You questioned folding your arms over your chest and demanding the answers you deserved,

"9 years in December," You laughed at him again but this time it was out of pitty, nine years. He hadn't seen you in seven which meant he'd been lying ever since he walked out on you when you were 15 and seeing them before he left.

"Please! I never meant to lie! I love you-"

"Stop saying that! You don't love me! You don't even know me!" You yelled looking at him as he shook his head at you, crying those fake tears once again but you could see right through this time,

"I'm your dad! Who knows you better than me?!"

"They do!" You yelled pointing at the boys who were all ready to throw your father out of the house, Yoongi took your hand in his to calm you own,

"Get out, I never want to see you again." You spat at him as Namjoon and Jin both pulled his arms towards the front door while he yelled about how he didn't care, that you were nothing but a free bank to him.

"I only came because you were in that paper with these guys! You think I'd ever come back to you! I don't need you!" He screamed right as the door was slammed in his face, the rest of the boys left you and Yoongi in the living room, he knew you the best so he was going to be the best and comforting you right now.

"Y/n?" Yoongi whispered but you just turned around and cried into his arms, sobbing hysterically as he held you close to him.

"I'll make sure he never comes near you again, okay?" You nodded as he held you close to him not letting go for even a second as you cried into his chest promising not to leave your side until you were ready.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Regained Passion -Harry Hook x reader - part 1 - The dance studio

=

-canon deviant, after D2; Ben invites more vks over, including Harry and Gil-

Harry huffed in frustration as he forced himself to walk to the dance studio building, FG had made the newest set of VKs go to counselors and his had decided he needed something to burn off his energy, but it couldn’t be sword fighting or tourney as it ‘amplified his violent tendencies’ and he needed ‘a calm environment that tempered him’

“Dumb counselor, dumb FG, dumb dance class” he muttered to himself, shrugging the duffel back on his shoulder to sit correctly as it slid from its spot slightly. The studio was just off campus, being connected to a huge auditorium that had a large stage for their dancers to…well dance.

He stopped in front of the building, grimacing up at the sign that hung off the front of the building “Esmerelda's dance hall” he read, sighing he looked back down at his clothes.

Evie had signed herself up to make some new clothes for him to dance in, and at the moment he was in a flowy white t-shirt, slightly baggy black sweatpants, and wearing his new converse. (he had a feeling he would have to change out of them though) “Let's get this over with” he muttered, walking up the steps and into the building.

He stepped through the doors and looked around, to the left was a reception desk, at least that’s what it looked like, and to the right was a café looking room, with vending machines and a mini kitchen. “Hello! Welcome to Esmerelda's dance hall! Are you a new student?” Harry turned back to look at the desk, now a middle-aged blonde woman sat in the chair behind it, a kind smile on her face.

“I guess” Harry muttered, walking up to the desk and handing her the paper the consular had given him to give to ‘Ms. Smith’ and the woman behind the desks nameplate read ‘Mira Smith’ so he guessed she was the person who he had to give the paper too. “I was told ta give this ta yeh” Mira nodded and took the paper, humming to herself and typing on her computer.

“Yep, got you right here, Harry Hook. You’ll be starting out in the beginners class for teens since we assumed you had no prior dance experience” Harry quirked his brow. He had dance experience just…not the type they did in this school probably. “The school is paying for your classes so you won't have to worry about any payments, follow me!” Mira stood and walked out from behind the desk, leading Harry down the long hallway of doors, each having a number and letter on the wood.

“Your classes, for now, will take place in D-A, with Mr. Bert. Hes our beginner teacher, all our students love him, they say he makes everything very fun and entertaining” Harry didn’t respond, looking at the walls and through the small windows to the rooms. “Well, here you are! Have fun Harry” Mira opened the door and gestured inside, where a good group of teens his age stood, all getting ready for the class. Some were stretching while others just talked to their friends.

Harry stepped through the door, pressing his lips together as some of the teens turned to look at him, brows raising bit. He could recognize some of them from Auradon prep. Harry held down a flinch as a hand clamped on his shoulder “You must be Harry, eh?!” Harry turned to look, seeing a kind-looking man with black hair and blue eyes, a smile on his face.

Harry wasn’t one to trust someone as soon as he saw them but this man just had odd energy that Harry felt like he could trust. Harry felt himself relax and nodded to the man, who held out his hand to Harry. “I’m Bert!” Bert had an odd Boston accent, which again, made Harry feel oddly safe. Harry shook his hand, yelping quietly as Burt pulled him into the group of teens “Now, grab a pair of those black ballet shoes, don’t worry they’re new and ya get ta keep ‘em, and get em all tied up on ya’, and the same ta’ the rest of ya’! get all ready and stretch!” Bert released Harry's hand and walked around the room, helping some of the younger teens stretch and put their shoes on.

Harry looked for his size in the shoes and found one pair left ‘how convenient’ he thought, grabbing the pair and moving over to the wall that had only one other teen sitting against it. He took off his bag and slid down the wall, taking off his converse and replacing it with the ballet shoes.

As Harry got his shoes changed, Bert announced to the new students that had also joined that day; that beginner classes were only an hour-long, and there was no lesson plan, for now, it was learning basics and just having fun with dance. He also said he would teach them to dance along to a song called ‘step in time’. But first, stretching.

Harry mindlessly followed along with the instruction; Harry didn’t want to be here in the first place so he didn’t really feel like trying. “uh, Harry?” Harry looked up, seeing Bert staring wide-eyed at him “have ya ever had any previous dance experience? Gymnastics even?” Harry shook his head, not knowing why Bert was asking “You’re about a half-foot away from a full side split” Harry looked down, raising his brows in slight shock.

It was true, Harry's legs were almost horizontal from his hips “well would yeh look at tha’” Harry muttered, leaning forward a bit, hearing some of the girls of the class gasp in slight jealously.

“How the heck is he doing that! I've been doing gymnastics since I was two and I can't even do that!” a black girl with Bantu knots whispered to her friend, who started starry-eyed at Harry.

“I know… it’s kinda hot” the friend whispered back, laughing slightly as the first girl gently tugged at her hair “I’m sorry it is!” the first girl smirked and smacked the second's thigh.

“You are such a simp” she chortled turning her attention back to Bert and Harry, to which Bert was testing Harry's flexibility, to Harry's slight embarrassment.

“Do you feel any pain like that?” Harry looked down at his almost full side spit and shook his head, he didn’t even realize he had done it. “Could you try to do a full one?” Harry stared at Bert for a moment then shrugged, spreading his legs further and now sitting in a full side split “Well butter my britches” Bert laughed, rubbing his head “and they told me ya were a full on beginner!”

Harry sniffed and moved his legs back into a normal position, now sitting cross-legged as Bert patted his head and went back to stand in the front of the group, clapping his hands to gain his attention “Alright! Now let's start with the basics!”

-

If Harry had been taking the class willingly? He would have enjoyed it wholeheartedly because Mira was right; Bert did make the class very fun. But due to Harry being forced to take the class, he had hated every second. Bert had seemed to realize Harry wasn’t into it and left harry alone most of the time, but he still checked on him during the hour of class.

“Remember to grab the schedule on your way out! Class is same time same place tomorrow! Have a good day!” Harry finished tying up his shoes and stood, shuffling his new dance shoes into his bag, and made his way out of the class, giving a halfhearted finger wave to Bert as he walked out.

He walked behind his class, not wanting to mingle with any of them. He stopped, looking to his right as he noticed an open door. He blinked in slight surprise, inside was a whole group, much more experienced than his class, practicing what seemed to be ballet, the girls wearing shoes that allowed them to stand on their toes.

His eyes locked onto a particular girl, wearing a light blue leotard and an even lighter blue sheer skirt that almost looked silver.  Her skirt flared as she performed a set of spins, her head almost sticking to one spot as she did.

Harry had never seen ballet before, at least in person, so he stood slightly mesmerized as she danced, she stopped her spin and moved gradually on her toes, moving about the room in a way that Harry could only describe as ‘flowing water’. The girl turned once more, bright (e/c) eyes locking with his.

Harry felt his breath hitch as a sudden rush of butterflies erupted in his gut, flying about his body and filling his mind. ‘wha-‘ Harry mentally stuttered, taking a step back from the class as he felt his face heat up. The girl still had her eyes on him, but they were filled with slight confusion and interest. ‘I-I I have to go’ Harry turned and ran for the exit, not noticing the girl's classmates walk over to the door and look after him, some of them giggling to themselves.

-

“Oh he’s pretty!” “Think he’s a new student?”

“Oh def, did you see his outfit!? Besides, I heard that Mr. Bert got a new student today from Auradon prep, I think that was him”

“(y/n), do you recognize him?” Anita Beaucop turned to you from the door, she wasn’t from Auradon prep so she couldn’t have known who Harry was.

“Yes,” you mumbled, resting against one of the beams against the wall. “Harry Hook, one of the new villain kids, Chad calls him a filthy pirate” Anita rolled her eyes and sauntered over to you, grabbing a water bottle from her bag and cracking it open.

“Well,” Anita huffed, her French accent strong as usual “your brother is an asshole, both of us know not to trust him, if Chad doesn’t like Harry, then you should make friends, piss him off and all that” you giggled at that, covering your mouth as Emma, another one of your class friends who didn’t go to Auradon prep, leaned into your space, her eyes drifting back toward the door.

“Do you know If Harry's single?” she purred, her smirk dropping as you shrugged.

“I don’t know, he hangs around Uma a lot, and from what I see he seems really into her” Emma pouted, and crossed her arms.

“I got no shot with that hunk then, Uma’s hot as fuck.” the entire room agreed, including Javis and Saki in the corner of the room, who were both very much into men. “See, even Javis agrees!”

“Just because I don’t like anything on the menu doesn’t mean I can’t apricate it” Javis snorted, downing a granola bar as he did a small stretch session. You snorted and rolled your eyes, fixing your skirt and getting back into the starting position as Esmerelda looked back up from her cd player.

“Okay! Let's run it from the top again! Last round ladies! Then we can all go home and relax” As the gentle music began to play and you started to dance, you couldn’t help but think about the striking ocean blue eyes that sent a spark through your soul.

-end of part 1-

Part one of a new series, not gonna be a long one, maybe 5 parts at least-most…dunno which it's gonna be but, yeah! If you couldn’t guess, (y/n) is Chad's sister (fraternal twin but since its x reader you look like you and not automatically a female version of Chad) and isn’t like him, takes more after her mom n stuff. And yeah we got some simps in (y/n)s class lol.

Hope you enjoyed and will enjoy the next parts (to which I have no clue where this fic is actually gonna go I had a beginning and ending part to it and that was all lol, so lets see how this turns out)

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[unmaskedagain]

Sorry, it’s reserved

  Honestly neither Marinette nor Chloe had been surprised when Bustier caved to Alya’s insistent requests that the two girls not be allowed to go on the class trip to New York City. Lila had been subtly hinting about how much friendly better thing would be if they weren’t there.

           Mostly because just two weeks ago, Marinette had presented her class trip idea presentation; complete with a potential itinerary, pictures of the grand hotel could stay at, the fantastic tours they could go on, and exciting places they could eat. The class had been suitable wow’d.

           What was surprising was when, after Bustier announced in front of the class that Marinette and Chloe couldn’t go to New York much to the smug faces of the students, Adrien said, “Cool. Then I’ll skip the class trip too.” He then turned to his two best friends. “What do you two want to do instead?” Adrien was sick and tired of the other students in the class. He had been trying to get them to believe Lila was a liar for months but no one, not even Nino, would listen to him.

           Instead, they turned on the two most awesome girls in the class. Well, Adrien wasn’t going to deal with it anymore.

           The look of horror on Lila’s face was priceless. However, there was no backtracking now. The dream of a romantic trip to New York, walking hand in hand with Adrien, burst into flames and was now nothing more than ashes.

“Yeah, I won’t go either,” Nathaniel stated. “Doesn’t seem fair. Marinette worked really hard on the idea for the trip.” He never bought Lila’s crap, and he never understood how anyone else did.

           Marinette smirked, “I’m up for whatever.” She shrugged. “I’m actually looking forward to now having to organize the trip. Or fundraise for it. And to think I was going to start working this weekend.” The bluenette made sure to look directly at Bustier and Alya, her ex-friend when she said this. “Its only October but believe me, you’ll want to start making reservations fast. Nothing was done but the presentation; which you can have by the way. And just a reminder, a lot of places do require a down payment. Also, don’t forget approval from the school board.”

“Which takes like three months btw,” Chloe said with a vicious smile on her face. She was the last class president. She knew exactly how hard getting a fabulous trip approved of was. “Paperwork has to be filled out in triplicates and if you mess up on even one form, they’ll make you fill out the entire thing again.” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. “I just let Daddy know that he won’t have to make his annual donation this year for the trip. If you don’t want us there you obviously don’t need it. And to think, he usually funds thirty percent of it. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

           By the looks on the other students’ faces, it was clear that they didn’t know that. However, pride wouldn’t let them back down. Besides, Alya thought, they had the moral high ground. Who wanted to hang with bullies anyway?

           To the other students’ credit, they did manage to raise enough money for the trip to New York. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as much as they usually did. Alya, the new class president, also forgot to make most of the reservations until the last minute, and it was hard to find a fancy hotel willing to accommodate an entire class of rowdy teenagers at the last minute. So they would stay at a Holiday Inn just outside of New York City. The glasses-wearing girl wished Lila had been so busy with her charity work so she would’ve had time to help and maybe they could’ve gotten a much better trip.

           By the end, the class trip the class would be getting wasn’t nearly as were or amazing as the one Marinette had presented at the beginning of the year. However, most were just happy to be going to New York.

           Lila shot four exiled students a victorious look as she bragged about all the things and people she’d get to see in New York. She had spent months trying to get Adrien to agree to go on the trip but he wouldn’t budge.

She sighed dramatically, “I love New York. The only bad part are the superheroes. Last time I was there Robin and Speedy practically got into a fistfight over who’d take me on a date. I hate getting in the way of friendships.”  Marinette snorted. “We leave for New York in three weeks. What will you three be doing then?”

“Waiting for a house to fall on you,” Marinette said easily.

           Adrien chuckled, “We leave for L.A in two days.”

           That got the classes’ attention.

“Sorry, What?” Alya asked; suddenly getting a bad feeling in her stomach.

           Chloe leaned back in her seat, “L.A. It was my idea. We decided since we couldn’t go on your trip we’d go on our own. Let's see… our first stop in L.A, we’ll be there for about a week; we’ll tour some movie studios, go on set for the Star Trek movie that filming. Attending the movie premiere of the newest Marvel movie. Then leave for Indio; it's not that far from L.A, I think. But who cares. We have to be at Coachella, even if only for two days. Then we go to Metropolis. And I can’t remember… Marinette what did you plan for us to do? It was her idea to go there.” She told the class who had looks of sheer dismay on their faces that got worse and worse as the four described the trip.

           Marinette smiled, “Tour of LexCorp, a tour of Daily Planet, reservations for the grand opening of Gordon Ramsey’s new restaurant, we got backstage passes for a 5 seconds of Summer concert-” She was cut off

“Why couldn’t we go see Selena Gomez again?” Adrien frowned.

           Marinette rolled her eyes, “Because you couldn’t beat Chloe in an arm-wrestling contest.”

“She is freakishly strong,” Adrien protested. “And she plays mind games!”

           Chloe blew a raspberry at the other blond.

“We’ll be in Metropolis for about a week,” Marinette continued, as her two friends bickered and Adrien declared he would have his vengeance. “Then Adrien got to pick where we next.”

“Disney World!” The blond shouted. It was his biggest childhood dream and it was becoming a reality. “We’re going to Florida to Disney World, and then Universal Studios; where we’ll get to see the Magical World of Harry Potter.”

“Geek!” Chloe sniped.

“Slytherin!” Adrien hissed back at her.

“And proud,” Chloe crossed her arms. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Hufflepuff?” She said the Hogwarts’ house like it was a dirty word. “Most notable thing a Hufflepuff ever did was die. And then somehow ended up in Twilight.”

           Adrien stood up angrily, “You take that back!”

“Make me!”

           Adrien looked at Nathaniel, “Ravenclaw, do something!” Their two houses went together like PB&J.

           Nathaniel put down his pencil, “No.” And went back to writing. “Make the Gryffindor do it!” He motioned to Marinette.

           Marinette just looked up at the ceiling, praying to gods’ for patience.

           Adrien, she was suddenly reminded, was loyal enough to help hide a body.

           Nathaniel was smart enough to have already come up with an alibi.

           Chloe as conning enough to ensure they got away it, after goading Marinette into doing it in the first place.

           Marinette would eventually snap and kill Lila. She would need them. “We’ll be in Florida for about four days; enough to see both amusement parks. Then all four of us agreed to go to New York next. First, stop Gotham; we’ll be touring Wayne Industries and attending one of the Wayne family annual galas.”

“Then we go directly to New York City,” Chloe said examining her nails. “Mama arranged us a tour of Vogue and Mode. We’ll be going to a few of the runways for Fashion Week. Adrien’s father arranged for us to go see Hamilton on Broadway.”

           It had taken a lot of time, effort, threats of going to the police, press, and CPS regarding child labor laws broken concerning Adrien to get Gabriel Agreste to agree to let his son go on the trip (as well as allow him to actually have a childhood). But there had been several conditions; mostly to do with security and proper supervision; which all the parents had, though not to Gabriel’s extremeness.

           Still, the four kids agreed to the terms.

“We’re going to a baseball game!” Adrien added excitedly. “A real one. I’m going to eat a hot dog the size of my arm. And cotton candy the size of my head.”

           Marinette nodded slowly, already picturing herself patting Adrien’s back as he whined about as stomach ache from eating too much.

           Chloe frown, picturing the same. She had lost a pair of Jimmy Choos after one disastrous trip to the carnival that involved way too much greasy food and rollercoaster with two loops. She shook the nightmarish memory away, “Thanks to Marinette, we’ll be touring the Stark Industries and the Avengers tower. All the hotels we’ll be staying at are 5 stars. Also, we’re going to three, three Michelin star restaurants. I can imagine what would’ve happened if she had made the reservations late. We might have ended up in some god awful Inn.”

“Come to think of it,” Marinette paused thoughtfully, “We should get to New York about the same time you do. What are your plans? No! Don’t tell me. I’m sure they’re amazing and I don’t want to be jealous. I mean you kicked us off the trip so you had to have something out of this world lined up.”

           Alya’s mouth was dry. She tried to come up with something to say; something to brag about but she knew that come September she’d have to pony up the pics. Because Pics or it didn’t happen. Chloe was active on social media; she’d be updating on a daily basis and scooping out her competition. She’d know instantly if they were lying and they’d never live it down.

           Lila fought the urge to throw the biggest tantrum of her life. At the beginning of the year, after Marinette’s trip presentation, she thought getting the bluenette and Blondie off the trip was the perfect plan; even when Adrien said he wouldn’t go. However, it was soon clear that Alya and the other students were in way over their hands. The dream trip that Marinette had spun them would be realized as only a dream as it was clear they wouldn’t manage it without Marinette’s organizational skills and Chloe’s funding.

           The trip they got was the standard tourist one. A look around the city, the statue of liberty, Time Square, and a museum or two. Honestly, Lila took better trips with her grandmother.

           Maybe there was still a way to save things…

“You know,” Lila smiled sweetly. “Since we’re all going to be in New York anyway, we should do everything together-“

“Can’t,” Marinette stated firmly. “Reservations are reservations for a reason. Tickets were bought. You know how it is.”

           Bustier frowned. This had ended the way she thought it would. When Alya and the other students beseeched her to disallow Marinette and Chloe from the school trip, she thought it was for the best. Chloe had always had a hostile attitude that Marinette seemed to have developed as well. It left the rest of the class with negative energy that wasn’t helpful for nurturing their growth.

           However, she couldn’t have predicted just how badly things would go. Alya had come crying to her several times about having to fill out and re-fill out multiple forms for the school board. She seemed to get something wrong every time.

           The children could barely raise enough money for the trip. And it wasn’t nearly as wonderful as the one Marinette had come up with at the beginning of the year. Still, they were going to New York which was what counted. Most classes wouldn’t even have gotten that far, She thought smugly. It would be a good trip. (Caline had dreamed about accidentally running into Steve Rogers or Thor and being swept off her feet. And she thought that dream wouldn’t even be possible if she was too busy trying to reign in her to most troublesome students which were one of her reason her telling the two they couldn’t go.) However, even that trip paled in comparison to the one the bluenette had planned for her and her two friends. 5-star hotels, trips to galas, fashion week, going to the Avengers Towers, possibly meeting Captain America, Thor, and the rest! It all sounded too good to be true.

“There must be something you can do,” Bustier said. “It would be nice if all my students were together.”

           The other students looked at the tour with hope clear in their eyes.

           Adrien, Marinette, and Chloe just looked at the teacher like she was dumb. Each fought the urge to remind the teacher that she was just fine with the three not going less than ten minutes ago.

           Adrien rolled his eyes, “There isn’t. Everything was bought and paid for. They are only expecting four kids which is why we get to go to so many places. Turns out, not many hotels and restaurants want to deal with a bunch of teens at the last minute.”

Marinette nodded, “Besides you wouldn’t want us crashing your trip anyway. We’d hate to get in the way. We know you guys wanted a drama-free trip.” She through the term back in their faces. “But I wouldn’t mind meeting up one day. You guys are doing time square right. Let us know when and we’ll see if we can do it the same day.”

“If we can fit in our schedules,” Chloe snapped. “It's pretty packed.”

“Not as packed as theirs, I’m sure,” Marinette smiled kindly, though inside she was doing a victory dance worthy of a champion. “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

           The four left that Friday. By Sunday, the social medias were filled with dozens of pictures of beautiful hotel rooms. The next three weeks were the worst in the class’s entire lives. The other students in the class tried their best not to look but it was hard. Particularly when the picture of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe on the red carpet started to make waves. Pictures of the four meeting various celebrities like Lex Luther and Chris Pine, superheroes like Superman and Batman, of them at Disney World and Coachella had left more than a bit of envy in their hearts.

           Their own trip had started out terribly. Alya hadn’t book enough rooms so they had to triple bunk, with some people having to sleep on a cot. And it turned out that the only tours she had secured was to Elis Island and the New York Art Museum; nothing nearly as exciting as they hoped. So they had been mostly left on their own for sight-seeing.

           Still, it wasn’t a terrible trip. They ate great good and saw the normal New York tourist attractions.

           However, when the time came for them to go to Time Square and meet up with Adrien, Alya, Chloe, and Marinette, Bustier was ready to pull her hair out.

           Bustier never had trouble on any of the previous trips, as they were always organized to the minute, but this one had so much free time the kids didn’t know what to do with themselves which resulted in chaos. And being threatened with being kicked out of the hotel. She didn’t understand what was different. The students were usually so well behaved.

           Sure on previous trips, there had been two more chaperones but Bustier always thought they were unnecessary. Her students were the best and most well behaved in school for the most part. She was positive that they only needed their teacher to watch out for them.

           She was wrong.

           And Bustier was very surprised to see Mendeleiev there with her four wayward students, looking very much like the Cat that got the Canary.

“Demetria,” Bustier greeted politely. “What are you doing here?”

           Mendeleev didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “I was invited as a chaperone. It just me and Gorilla. Between the two of us we keep the delinquents in check,” She said Delinquents at the four who playfully hissed at her. Each of the four wore a black shirt with a different Hogwarts house on it.“Best decision I ever made. I was reluctant at first as it’s not school-related and I wouldn’t be paid for it. But Agreste and Bourgeois are paying me nine times my usual amount an hour to watch the kids like a hawk. Luckily their goods kids. What about you? How is your class trip going?”

           Bustier forced herself to smile, and not bite out angrily that it was driving her insane. The kids were driving her completely up the wall. And Caline was more than a little aware of how amazing her four students trip was and to think Mendeleiev had gotten to do it all with them made her blood boil and her eyes practically turn green with jealousy. “Extremely well. We are having… the time of our lives.”

“I’m sure,” Mendeleiev said. She and the rest of the teachers had never been happy with how Bustier ran her class. Or just how much she and Damocles got away with. However, it didn’t matter. Come September, things would change. Damocles had already gotten fired for taking bribes, breaking procedure, and being a complete idiot.

           Bustier, while technically, hadn’t done anything wrong would still have to listen to the school board tell her everything that was wrong with her class. And there was a lot.

“Have you gone to the Avengers tower yet?” Bustier asked, not subtly at all. She still hoped that if there was time she and her class could tag along.

“We have,” Mendeleiev told her, bursting the bubble of hope that had sprung in Caline. “It was quite wonderful. I had a wonderful debate with Doctor Banner; it turns out he’s read several of my papers and me, his. While the kids are at the baseball game tomorrow, the two of us will be having a lunch date and going over our scientific hypothesis tomorrow.”

“Get it, Ms. Mendeleiev,” Chloe laughed.

           Mendeleiev shot her a stern look but her mouth twitched as she fought a smile.

“Perhaps my class could go with?”

“Sorry, we have a reserved seats.”

Envy flared in Caline Bustier more than ever before in her entire life. If they had been still in Paris, Hawkmoth would’ve had a field day. “Oh but what about watching the kids. Won’t they need you? What would their parents say about this?” A vicious smirk appeared on Bustier’s face. She always thought Mendeleiev needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

Mendeleiev didn’t bat an eye, “Already covered. Already cleared with their parents. After all who’s going to say no to Captain America and Iron Man babysitting their kids. Steve hadn’t been to a game a while and he really wanted to take his son Peter and the rest of Tony’s interns. The kids should have a blast.”

Adrien shot a bright smile at his bodyguard, “Natasha is going too! I still don’t understand how you two know each other.”

Gorilla’s face burned a red color but he remained silent. He wore the bright yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf Adrien had begged him to wear as a show of support, particularly when Mendeleiev revealed herself to be a Ravenclaw (So did Bruce Banner). Captain America and the Winter Soldier high-fived Marinette over being Gryffindors. And Pepper Potts, Iron Man, and the Black Widow introduced themselves as Slytherin alumni.

Where was the Hufflepuff love?

Adrien had looked at Hawkeye with hope but Clint had shrugged and said, “Gryffindor.”

The blond boy huffed and pouted (the pout was how he got Gorilla to wear the scarf). He bet Thor was a Hufflepuff.

           The rest of Bustier’s class still steer clear away from the four; out of pride and envy. Lila had attempted to go near Adrien but was stopped by Alya who didn’t want to risk her bestie getting bullied by the meanest girls in school.

           Alya had decided after seeing the pictures of the four with Superman, The Avengers, Batman, and THE LOIS LANE that life just wasn’t fair. If it was Marinette and Chloe (Maybe even Nathaniel) would be stuck in Paris, crying their eyes out over not being allowed on the trip. It was what they deserved for being such bullies.

           The preplanned tour of Times Square, which was mostly just the kids walking around and awing at the pretty lights. It was actually a bit boring, once the excitement wore off. They found themselves on the highest building there, looking over New York City in its entirety, along with a bunch of other tourists.

           Suddenly all the electronic billboards and every ounce of electricity turned off. Crowds up people looked around confused.

           The giant monitors blurred and a face appeared, “Greetings citizens of New York, I. AM. THE. Electrocutioner!” Lights were centered on the highest building there, and it was clear the villain stood on top of the building. The building of Bustier’s class was on.

           One thought echoed in the minds of each Parisian citizen, “Fuck.”

           Before any of the Paris heroes’ could figure out if they should act or not, another team of heroes arrived.

           The evil-doer had with him a dozen or so henchmen, each more menacing the last.

           The sight of Kid Flash zooming up the side of the building was incredible. Seeing Young Justice kick butt left Marinette a little breathless.

Was this what it was like, she wondered, seeing Ladybug fight.

           When some of the henchmen were ordered to take hostages; Marinette, Chloe, Nathaniel, Adrien, Gorilla, and Mendeleiev fighting back much to the shock of Bustier and her class. Chloe rolled her eyes as she, and the other three pulled out miniature pens from their pockets; did they really not know how often New York is attacked by Super Villians. Seriously.

           With a click of the button, the pen turns into a long whip. Chloe refused to be taken without a fight. Her and Marinette, who now wielded a fighting staff, nodded at each other. The blonde snorted when she looked at Adrien, “A shield, really?”

“I don’t want to hurt people too much,” Adrien defended.

“This is why you’re a Hufflepuff.”

           Nathaniel spun his trident around. It worked like a Taser and could shock people. Luckily only the villain had electricity powers.

Marinette didn’t know how it happened but suddenly she was fighting back to back with Robin.

“Nice moves,” Robin said after Marinette knocked out a henchman with a high kick. He knocked out a henchman with his staff.

“Not too bad yourself.”

           Nathaniel nearly had a heart attack when Aqualad jumped in to help him protect several tourists. When biggest henchmen came rushing at him, the redhead fired up his trident and within seconds the underling was down for the count.

           Kaldur paused, “…Can I borrow that?”

           Chloe used the whip with ease and grace. She has been practicing with it ever since she saw Shadow Hunters for the first time. Isabelle Lightwood was an icon.

The blonde didn’t know how it happened. But one minute she was fighting off two lame minions then she saw an Arrow guy fighting and then falling off the roof, and the next thing she knows she’s jumping after him. Then they both were dangling off the roof with only Chloe’s whip for support.

“You call this a rescue?” Arrow guy snorted.

“You call yourself a hero?” Chloe snapped.

“Meow!”

           Chloe didn’t see how he did it but one moment she was hanging there; the next Arrow guy was swinging her up back onto the roof.

           He smirked at her, “You’re a pretty one.”

           She waved him off, “Oh go save someone!”

           When Superboy crashed down next to him after taking a brutal hit, Adrien gripped his shield and stood in front of him. Adrien was able to block most of the attempts of the underlings to reach the boy of steel. But it wasn’t long until they had them surrounded. Just when Adrien thought he was a goner, red lasers blasted the henchman back.

           Superboy stood up, “Thanks for the assist.” He smiled at the blond boy. “Nice shield.”

           Gorilla and Mendeleiev handled their own really well. After seeing Gorilla fight, Adrien started to have some serious suspicions about just how his bodyguard knew the Black Widow.

           When the fight was over, and the villains detained, the small group stood with the rest of the civilians until the all-clear was given.

The Bustier and her class stared in awe as the members of Young Justice walked over to the six with large smiles. The heroes didn’t even spare the class a glance. Not even when Alya pushed Lila to the front but Robin and Arsenal never even noticed her.

Dick Grayson, Robin, smiled at the pretty bluenette with bluest eyes he’d ever seen and did his best to ignore Batman in his ear about bringing in the Heroes Ladybug, Chat Noir, Queen Bee, and Bright Roar in to Watch Tower stat. He knew all about Ladybug and, thanks to Batman, knew her civilian identity. But to see her in person was a whole different experience.

No, there was a time and place for everything. And right now the time was to flirt with the Gorgeous Superhero who a skintight red suit.

“You’re amazing,” He told her honestly. “What are you doing for the rest of my life?”

“I swear to god if you propose!” Batman hissed in his ear.

           Marinette blushed a bright red.

           Kaldur handed the trident back to Nathaniel, “This is an amazing weapon. You use it well.” He told the redhead. This must be the new Hero Bright Roar “I wish for one just like it.”

           Nathaniel flushed but handed the weapon back to Kaldur, “Keep it. I’m not that good with it.”

           Kaldur smiled, “Then perhaps you will let me teach you one day. One on one sessions.”

“Really Kaldur,” Aquaman chastised. “This is a mission, not a dating show.”

           Aqualad ignored him.

           Superboy nodded at Adrien, “You’re good,” he told the smaller blond boy. Though from the reports he read about Chat Noir, he was only a year younger than him. “Cool shirt by the way. It's nice to meet a fellow Hufflepuff.” He said and then suddenly his arms were full of a blond boy thanking him for existing.

“Breathe,” Superman chuckled in his ear. “Just breathe, Connor.”

“For such good finders, we’re so hard to find,” Adrien said. “I could kiss you!”

           Superboy turned the brightest shade of red anyone had ever seen.

           Arsenal eyed the hot blond girl, “At least you know how to stay out of the way.”

           Chloe glared at him, “Next time, I’ll just let you die.”

“Then who be the man of your dreams.”

“Freddie Kruger would probably take his job back,” Chloe said with a hand on her hip. “Though his face isn’t as terrifying as yours.”

“That girl will eat you alive,” Oliver warned in his ear.

“So you admit you dream about me,” Roy stepped forward.

           Chloe huffed, “Get real!”

“Hey,” Alya called. “Robin, Speedy, don’t you want to say hi to Lila Rossi.” She motioned to the Italian girl who had gone pale.

“It’s Arsenal now,” Roy corrected.

           Dick nodded, “And who’s Lila?”

           Marinette smiled, “Oh I’d totally marry you now!”

           Robin grinned and raised his arms in victory.

           Batman cursed in his ear.

            Robin, Arsenal, Aqualad, and Superboy kept their attention on the on the four. No matter how much their superhero mentors protested. No matter how much Bustier’s tried to intervene.

              No, their attentions’ were reserved

[inawickedlittletown]

Baked With Love (Destiel fic) - 1/5

Summary: Dean never met Lisa's neighbor, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, they could bake. After breaking up with Lisa, the one thing Dean misses is her neighbor's pie. After finally meeting him, Cas' pie is not the only thing Dean likes.

On Ao3 

------

The weird thing about the end of a relationship was all the little things that suddenly just came to an end. Things like Sunday brunch and dinner dates at restaurants that Dean would have never stepped foot in before. The best things to end were the arguments when Lisa would get mad every single week about Dean’s standing bar night with Sam. Or how often Lisa had expected Dean to get her flowers. In some ways, it was strange to re-calibrate to having free time again, but in the best way. 

Dean found himself at The Roadhouse on a Wednesday night — something that would have never occurred while he was dating Lisa. Wednesday was not his and Sam’s usual night, but his brother met him there anyway. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked after they were already a few beers in. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The break up, dude,” Sam said. “It’s been what? Two weeks?” 

The thing that really cemented for him that he’d done the right thing breaking up with Lisa was that he didn’t even miss her. Dean had expected to, but the loss of the relationship didn’t really hurt. It was nothing like his last serious relationship with Cassie and maybe that was why Sam was so concerned. Cassie had broken him. It had been a long time after Cassie before Dean felt like he could do more than a one night stand. It was why Lisa had felt different, Dean had wanted more from her and yet somehow things just hadn’t worked. If he really had to think about it, he couldn’t even say that he missed the sex and considering how bendy Lisa was, that was saying something. 

“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t think I actually let myself get attached, if I’m honest.” 

Sam nodded. 

“But, I do miss one thing,” Dean said. He took a gulp of his beer. 

Sam made a face. “Ew, Dean!”

“What? No….I mean, she did yoga. But, no, I miss the pie.” 

“Lisa baked?” Sam asked, his eyebrow raised.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Definitely not. But she had this neighbor. I never met them, but every Friday they brought Lisa some sort of baked good. Sam, it was the best pie that I have ever tasted. Better than mom’s even. And now, no more pie.”

“Wow,” Sam said. 

The crust had been flaky and sweet. The apples had had a crunch to them and there had been so much care put to the spices and the flavor. Dean had never believed in a higher power and yet eating that pie had felt like a religious experience. 

—

A month after the break up, Dean ran into Lisa. He really should have known better than to stop at the cafe near the yoga studio, but Dean had been desperate for caffeine and it was a better option than Starbucks. While he was there, he couldn’t help but notice the pies on display and so he indulged in a slice of cherry pie. It left Dean on his own at a round table waiting for the coffee to kick in and savoring his pie. It wasn’t an amazing pie, but it was still pie. He was so single-focused on the pie that he almost didn’t see her at first, but then he looked up and spotted her. 

She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra. Her hair was tied back into a neat ponytail and she was laughing with a gaggle of her yoga friends. Dean had met a few of them and he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell them apart. 

As she turned to get into the line, her eyes swept right over Dean and then came back to him. Dean lifted his hand in an awkward wave. He didn’t expect Lisa to do more than similarly acknowledge him, but instead she headed his way. 

“Dean,” she said. 

“Hi,” Dean said back. “How, um, how have you been?”

Lisa actually smiled at him. “I’m alright. We had fun there for a while. And I just wanted to say, no hard feelings.” 

“Good. Yeah. Uh, you too.” 

Lisa pointed at the last few bites of Dean’s pie. “My neighbor came by last night and left me a loaf of banana bread. I had to bring it into yoga class because you weren’t around to eat it all.” 

Dean chuckled. “Your neighbor should open up their own bakery. I would be their number one customer.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Lisa said. 

“And, uh, you know, since no hard feelings and all, if your neighbor bakes a pie any time soon I am definitely available to take it off your hands. If that isn’t, you know, weird.” 

Lisa actually threw her head back and laughed. “Do you want my neighbor’s number? Get you right to the source?” 

He should have felt weird about it, especially because in the entire time that Dean had dated Lisa, he’d never actually seen Lisa’s neighbor. He’d always pictured the neighbor as a nice older woman who lived alone and didn’t have anyone to share her baking with. 

“Look, Cas is a sweetheart and it won’t be weird or anything.” 

Maybe, it would be less weird than using Lisa as some sort of go between. No matter how amicable their break up had been, Dean figured they probably shouldn’t see much of each other. 

“Alright, then,” Dean said.

Lisa nodded. She grabbed her phone out and a moment later Dean had a text with Cas’ phone number.

—

It was almost a month later when Dean saw Lisa again. This time, it was because she was having car trouble and didn’t know where else to go but to the only mechanic that Lisa knew: Dean. 

Dean co-owned Singer Auto. It had once belonged to his uncle, Bobby Singer. Bobby wasn’t even really his uncle by blood, but he’d been a family friend for so long that everyone considered Bobby family. When Bobby decided to retire a few years earlier, he’d offered Dean the shop. It was Dean that insisted on buying it from him. Bobby had eventually been worn down to selling half the business to Dean. 

Dean ran the day to day, but Bobby stopped in every once in a while — when he got bored mostly — and did a bit here and there. Business was going well. 

Lisa’s car had been in good shape when Dean was dating her, but when she called him up, it was because her car wasn’t starting. Dean talked her through tightening up the battery terminals but the car still didn’t start. 

“You might need a new battery,” Dean said. 

Before Dean could offer to head to her place to jump the battery and get the car over to the shop, Lisa told her her neighbor had just come out and offered to do it. 

“And I’ll just drive it straight over to you.” 

Lisa arrived not long after and with her came a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies. 

“From my neighbor,” Lisa said. “I asked and Cas said you never called.” 

It wasn’t that Dean had forgotten as much as that he’d felt awkward calling someone he didn’t really know just to ask them if he could buy some pie from them. He was sort of rethinking Cas being an older grandma type, though, what with the whole giving Lisa’s car a jump thing. Maybe Cas was younger than Dean expected, or a woman that knew how to bake and their way around a car. 

“Call Cas, Dean,” Lisa said. “It would be rude not to. Cas is expecting a call.” 

Replacing her battery didn’t take long and Lisa reminded him to call her neighbor again before she left. The taste of Cas’ cookies after they were all gone later that day made him decide that he would call Lisa’s neighbor. 

—

He sent a text instead of calling. He did it early, right between breakfast and leaving for work. A kind of rip the band-aid off type of thing. 

Hi. This is Dean.

And then because that felt like not enough at all. He sent a second: 

Lisa gave me your number because of how much I gush about your pie. 

Hope this isn’t weird. 

And when that didn’t seem like enough either.

Feel free to ignore me if this is too strange to you, but I am very willing to pay you to bake me a pie. 

He read them all over a couple of times before sending one last text. 

Thank you. And promise, I’m just very enthusiastic about pie. 

After that, he just dropped his phone on the couch next to him and groaned. He wanted to take back all the texts. Lisa’s neighbor was going to think he was crazy.

By the time Dean set off to work, he had no response which was probably for the better. 

Work was busy that day. It was a constant. They had a bunch of appointments lined up. Some easy jobs like doing an oil change, but others were more complicated — the type of thing that would take days to finish. Then, there were the people that just stopped by on the chance that Dean or one of his mechanics were free. So, Dean didn’t get to glance at his phone once the whole morning. And because Sam showed up during his lunch, he didn’t look at it then either. 

It wasn’t until he got home, after a long shower to get rid of all the grime and the smell of motor oil that clung to him, that Dean even glanced at his phone. 

Hello, Dean. 

Lisa mentioned I might get a call from you. Your texts were a humorous way to start my morning. It is not weird to be complimented on something I love to do. Baking is a passion of mine. I would love to bake you a pie. Lisa mentioned my apple double crust was your favorite. 

Payment is not necessary. Friday is the earliest I will have time, if that works for you. I’ll have it ready for you to pick up by six. 

-Cas

Cas sounded formal. It was hard to infer age or gender, but Dean supposed none of that mattered when it came to it, not when this Cas person could bake a pie that was rivaled by no other. 

I would feel weird not paying you for all that hard work. Friday is great. Thanks again. 

Dean was going to make sure he gave Cas something for the pie. The whole thing already felt a little strange, but for Dean it would feel even stranger to take the pie for free. 

When he and Sam met up that night, Dean didn’t bring up the whole weirdness with Lisa’s neighbor, but when Sam asked if Dean wanted to do something on Friday night he turned him down. 

“What, you have a date or something?” Sam asked. 

Dean denied it, but his brother didn’t seem to actually believe him. 

—

On Friday, it was Cas that texted Dean first, with an address to the house on the right of Lisa’s, as well as confirmation for pick up any time after six. Dean read the text over his lunch and he texted an affirmative before he got back to work. 

The shop closed at five. Dean went home and got showered and cleaned up. And because it felt like he’d come off as too eager to show up at six on the dot, he busied himself cleaning his kitchen and getting his laundry sorted so he could put it in the wash later. After that, he went through the pile of mail that he hadn’t looked at all week. It was almost seven when he texted Cas to let him know he was on his way. 

Cas’ house looked almost identical to Lisa’s and all the other houses on that street. A neat lawn in the front, a Victorian style with a large porch, a detached garage in front of which sat an electric blue Jeep. Not the type of car that should have belonged to the middle aged woman that Dean had been expecting. He parked his car on the street, feeling just a little strange that he wasn’t pulling into Lisa’s driveway. A glance over there told Dean that Lisa wasn’t home. 

As he walked up, the first thing that Dean noticed was that Cas’ mailbox was shaped like a bee. It was really well made and adorable to boot. 

He gave the doorbell a ring and didn’t wait long for someone to come to the door. As the door pulled open, Dean was startled by a car screeching by. He turned away, looking out as a Honda Civic narrowly missed Dean’s Impala as it drove off. For a moment, Dean had almost stopped breathing. 

“I don’t know how that kid managed to get his license,” a voice from behind him said. A deep, masculine voice. 

Dean turned, slowly. Cas had stepped out and Dean’s breath caught. 

Cas was a man that stood almost at Dean’s height. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes were the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen, and over a lean and muscular frame, he wore an apron that in cursive letters said “Save The Bees”. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said and his chapped lips broke into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m actually a little behind, so your pie just made it into the oven. But, come on in.”

“Uh,” Dean couldn’t find words. How had Lisa not told him that her neighbor was a guy. A very attractive guy. 

-

Part Two

[iwanthermidnightz]

What Swift is doing might seem more like an attempt to win her longstanding battle against Braun than a calculated business move. But according to several industry veterans who spoke with VICE, if Swift pulls this off, she stands to make an unthinkable amount of money—and decimate the value of her old recordings in the process.

You'd think Swift's contract with Big Machine might prevent her from re-recording her old music, but she can legally do so for two reasons, according to Dina LaPolt, an entertainment attorney who represents Steven Tyler, 21 Savage, and several other high-profile artists. Firstly, while Shamrock Capital owns the master rights to Swift's first six albums—or in other words, the sound recordings on those albums—Swift owns the publishing rights. (Because she wrote her own songs, she retains the rights to the lyrics, melodies, and compositions that comprise them, and she doesn't have to ask permission from or pay anyone to use them how she sees fit.) Secondly, the "re-recording restriction" in her contract with Big Machine—a standard part of any record deal, which long prohibited her from recording new versions of the songs she released through the label—has reportedly expired. When Swift releases new versions of her old songs, she'll own both their master rights and their publishing rights, earning every penny they bring in and securing unilateral control over how they're used.

She's almost inevitably going to yield that power to license her music to advertising agencies and film and TV studios, according to Guillermo Page, a former record label executive who's worked for BMG, EMI, Sony, and Universal, and who now teaches in the University of Miami's music business program. To license (or "synchronize") a song, you need permission from the record company who owns it and the songwriter who wrote it. Swift has always said no to licensing offers on the grounds that they would profit Braun—but now that she's cut him out of the equation, she can strike those deals herself, and take home 100 percent of the profits they reap.

"She has all the leverage, and all the control," Page said. "Even if the current owners of the old catalog want to do some type of deal for synchronization, without her approval as a songwriter, they wouldn't be able to do it. By recording the masters herself, it opens the door for her to do those deals directly."

In all likelihood, Swift's collaboration with Match.com, which used her re-recorded version of "Love Story" in its latest ad campaign, wasn't a one-off; it was the first of countless licensing deals Swift is going to make with her re-recorded music. According to LaPolt, Swift will easily be able to convince companies to come to her when they want to license her masters instead of paying Shamrock Capital for them.

"I have some clients who have re-recorded their big hits," LaPolt said. "We have management companies that are very, very savvy in this area, and they went out to all the music supervisors at all the film and TV companies. These companies all know to come to the management company and license the re-records, because it'll be a lot cheaper, and the artist wants that."

Ad agencies and film studios interested in Swift's music will want to use her as a one-stop shop: By going to her directly, they can secure a license to both the publishing and master rights to her music in one fell swoop, as opposed to licensing the publishing rights from Swift and the master rights from Shamrock. Additionally, according to Tonya Butler, a former label executive and the current chair of Berklee's music business program, Swift will probably cut her licensees a deal.

"If she knows how much the record companies are charging, she's going to undercut them at every opportunity," Butler said. "Record companies are notoriously much more expensive than the publisher would be. It's much easier—and cheaper—to license from one party that controls both sides."

Butler raised the possibility that Shamrock may try to turn the tables on Swift: Instead of allowing her to undercut them, they could opt to license her songs at cost, making it cheaper to acquire them from the private equity firm. But because Swift controls her publishing rights, she could ostensibly revoke a company's clearance to use her music if they try to work with Shamrock. In the battle over synchronization, Swift seems guaranteed to come out on top. But Butler cautioned that Shamrock may already have a strategy in place for that.

"Just because we don't know what's up their sleeve doesn't mean that there's nothing there," Butler said. "We've known that she's wanted to re-record since 2019. [If you're Shamrock Capital], you don't spend that kind of money without having some kind of plan."

Swift stands to rake in hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of dollars through licensing deals—but when it comes to streaming revenues, Shamrock may have the upper hand. When the average listener wants to hear a Taylor Swift song, they'll generally opt for the old version as opposed to the new, especially if Swift's re-recordings sound significantly different than her original masters, according to Page. (It's worth noting that Swift recently said her re-recorded music will contain "plenty of surprises.")

"One of the things that you will find when artists re-record their songs is that they want to change certain things," Page said. "When they do that, they don't realize that they are changing a masterpiece—they're changing a song that is already known in a certain way. The moment you change it, it's not the same song. And that is a risk that she's taking."

Even if Swift tries to replicate her old recordings note for note, she might not be able to do so flawlessly, Page said. She was 16 when her self-titled debut came out; at 30, her voice doesn't sound the same as it did back then. Additionally, producers have changed the way they record music, and the technology they use has evolved.

"She can try to drive consumption by letting her fans know that the new versions are there, but that will be applicable for only the most hardcore fans," Page said. "The reality is that she will be competing against herself on all of those platforms. And it will be very difficult, because the other songs are already out there, sitting in thousands and thousands of playlists, on all the different platforms and services."

There's a chance that Swift could try to either sweet-talk or strong-arm DSPs like Spotify and Apple Music into prioritizing her re-recorded music on their platforms. Imagine, for instance, that Swift wants Spotify to remove the original master recording of one of her songs from a popular playlist, and replace it with her re-recorded version. She could threaten to withhold her new recordings from Spotify altogether—along with all of her future releases—if they don't oblige. But according to Butler, a streaming service like Spotify would probably balk at that.

"I cannot see Spotify switching out those songs," Butler said. "Shamrock could sue. If I have a license with you and we both agree that for however many years, you are going to distribute my music on your platform, and then somebody else comes along and you replace my music with theirs, then you have breached your agreement with me. That would be a huge mess."

Assuming DSPs like Spotify stay out of the fray, the odds are that most listeners will continue to stream Swift's original recordings instead of her new ones. Then again, her fanbase is fiercely loyal; there's a chance her re-recordings wind up dwarfing the old versions. Ultimately, it doesn't really matter: Because she's still entitled to royalty payments on her old recordings, Swift makes money either way. She can't lose.

Considering how foolproof, how lucrative, and how simple Swift's ploy to own her masters seems to be, you have to wonder if other artists might mimic it. So many musicians have spoken out about being infuriated that they don't own their masters, and have fought—almost always unsuccessfully—to reclaim them. If all it takes to win that fight is getting back in the studio and making new versions of their old songs, why can't every artist do it?

The answer, in short: because they're not Taylor Swift.

"You have to have what Taylor Swift has, which is an enormous audience and an enormous brand," Butler said. "It's working for her because she's got all the pieces of the puzzle. If you don't have that social media voice, if you don't have that brand, if you don't have her money, if you don't have all of the things that she has, it may not work for you."

Butler said she has no doubt that other artists will try to follow in Swift's footsteps, only for many to find something standing in the way. If they didn't write their own songs—or even if they wrote part, but not all of them—they won't have the legal right to re-record them. If they're not wealthy enough, they won't be able to cover the high cost of recording, especially not in a way that produces a carbon copy of their old music. If they haven't cultivated a rabidly devoted fanbase, they won't be able to convince people to stream their re-recordings instead of the original versions. Still, Butler said, many artists are going to try to replicate what Swift is doing—and record labels know it.

"The first thing that's going to happen is label contracts are going to change," Butler said. "They're going to try to set it up to where this cannot happen to this extent."

The way major labels would do that, according to LaPolt, is by making re-recording restrictions more stringent. As it stands, an artist is typically prohibited from re-recording music they make for a label for three to seven years after it's released. Going forward, labels could try to bump up the term of that restriction to 20 or 30 years, if not extend it in perpetuity. It's almost a given that they'll try, LaPolt said.

"Every time there is an amazing thing that an artist does to get out of their deal, or get their IP back, [record companies] come up with some dastardly, ugly thing to make sure that doesn't happen again," LaPolt said. "I can tell you right now, we would fight tooth and nail against that."

In some ways, what Swift is doing seems like a turning point for the music industry, one that could inspire an untold number of artists to take control of their master rights and irrevocably reshape the way record contracts are written. It's possible that we'll look back on this moment as a major landmark. What's more likely, however, is that it will prove to be nothing more than yet another shrewd move by a pop star who's risen to the top of her field by making so many of them, creating opportunities for herself that almost none of her peers are wealthy, successful, or cunning enough to secure.

"Is this a watershed, where everybody starts doing it—no way," Butler said. "I don't think that the majority of artists will be able to pull it off to the extent that Taylor Swift has. Is this a unicorn? No. But it's a horse with, like, five legs."

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 2: Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire

@lumosinlove Thank you for your lovely characters! This has been so fun to write. :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Leo took one look one look at his co-star slumped at a table in the break room and changed his trajection to include a stop at the coffee machine. “Morning, Dorcas.”

“You’re not allowed to talk right now.”

He laughed under his breath, pressing the espresso button and opening the fridge to look for any non-expired milk products. “Talking is a big part of our job, you know.”

“Does it look like I’m on the clock right now?”

Leo hummed noncommittally, stirring some whole milk into the coffee before sliding it across the table to Dorcas. “Rough night?”

She grabbed the mug and took a tentative sip. Her shoulders relaxed fractionally and she let out a relieved sigh. “I forgot that you actually know how to make office coffee taste good.”

“I’m offended that you doubted me.” Leo took the empty seat next to her. “Now what happened?”

Dorcas looked down at her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, expression carefully neutral. “I broke up with her.” She laughed humorlessly. “I knew it wasn’t working for a while now, so I don’t understand why I’m so upset about it. Our schedules never lined up and we never really saw each other anymore. So I figured it was best to do it now instead of dragging it out.”

Leo knew she wasn’t one for physical affection, so he just sat by her side. “Still hurts, though. She was a big part of your life for a while now; it’s ok to be upset about it, no matter what the circumstances of the breakup are.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to be ok. Might not feel like it right now, but you’re as tough as they come.”

“Relationships are shit.”

“Breakups are shit.” Leo corrected gently.

“You know, sometimes people just want to feel like shit for a while. You don’t have to try and fix everything all the time.” She said, but her voice was teasing instead of accusatory. “How are you not emotionally exhausted all the time?”

“A lifetime of practice and sheer force of will.”

Dorcas laughed and shoved him away. “You suck.”

“If you want someone to just rant to, I can definitely make room for that tonight. You can experiment with your cocktail recipes, then get unbelievably drunk off them and trash talk all night.”

“You just want free drinks.”

“Consider it payment for the coffee and pep talk.” He said, rising to his feet. “Come on, we should get to the studio.”

She smiled and followed Leo out the door. “If there’s one thing guaranteed to cheer me up, it’s watching other people fail spectacularly at cooking.”

Dorcas got the cue from the director and started their cooking segment. “Recruits, today I’ll be showing you how to make perfectly-done mashed potatoes, and chef Leo will be teaching you how to make bone-in ribeye. Make sure you’re taking notes – you can use those when you attempt to recreate this dish later today.” There was a frantic flurry of movement as everyone took their notepads out and tried to find their pens.

“All right,” Leo grabbed a large slab of ribeye from the ingredients counter with both hands and heaved it onto the front table. Several recruits flinched back while others looked sick at the sight of their meat actually resembling the animal it came from. He bit back a smile and picked up a butcher’s knife.

God, he loved this job.

“So we’re just going to cut these and then you’re going to take a towel and just basically tear this portion of the meat off in one big piece. You see that? Then we’re going to add oil to a hot pan and drop the steak in.” The sizzling sound of the Maillard reaction filled the room. “We’re going to be basting this with thyme and half a stick of butter once the meat is cooked.”

A frantic whisper of “What the hell is basting?” rose up as Dorcas took over the lead, starting by bringing water to a boil and then waiting for it to reduce to a simmer. Leo watched as several of the recruits’ eyes glazed over, completely lost as Dorcas peeled potatoes in quick, practiced movements.

Leo recognized Logan’s voice as it carried from his spot in the crowd. “Do they have a medic on this show?”

“I hope so.” Finn murmured back.

“Our steak is done now. See the color on that?” Leo grabbed the steak with a pair of tongs and held it up for the recruits to see. “Now for our sauce. Have you guys ever flambéed anything before?”

“Lo, is that French?”

Logan’s microphone just barely picked up his little chuckle. “Yes.”

“Its literal translation means ‘flamed.’” Leo supplied, watching fear develop on their faces and trying his hardest not to laugh, biting his lower lip in the process.

This was only going to end badly, in a glorious blaze of fire.

“We’ve never had a disaster happen on the show flambéing something. Let’s try to keep it that way.” He grabbed the bottle of cognac at his station. “I’m going to take all of this cognac, add it to our pan with the sauce, and light it.”

He grabbed a lighter, flicked it on, and lightly touched it to the surface of the alcohol. Pink-red flames sprung from the pan, causing several of the recruits to shout and step back in alarm. “We’re just going to let it sit and burn off that alcohol.”

Dorcas grabbed her pan and added shallots to it. “I’m going to start getting my shallots sautéed, and –“

“Shallots?” A recruit asked, confusion etched on her face.

“Yes.”

“What are those?”

Dorcas turned and grabbed a shallot from the counter behind her. “This is a shallot.”

“Oh, so an onion.”

“No.” Dorcas said plainly, grabbing a hand mixer to blend her potatoes, butter, and cream. “Once the shallots are cooked, I add them to the potatoes and mix it all together. Then all you have to do is plate all this and you’re done.”

Leo grabbed his saucepan and spooned some out. “Don’t forget to add your sauce on top of the ribeye.”

“Now it’s your job to recreate this dish on your own. You have an hour to complete this challenge. And your time starts… now!”

Chaos ensued. Knives were waved around haphazardly, chopping skills were slim to none. One recruit was still trying to turn the stove on, while another had grabbed a pan that definitely wasn’t going to be big enough for a ribeye steak.

Leo shot Dorcas a horrified look. “Did we go too fast? I thought we explained everything pretty well, but now I’m not sure.”

“That’s just the way of this show.” Dorcas said with a shrug. “We need to see what level they’re on and what their strengths and weaknesses are before we can really start teaching. It gets better when we’re allowed to get out there and help them.”

Finn and Logan had cut off their own ribeyes first and were headed back to their stations. “Oh god I don’t remember anything they showed us.” Finn stressed, putting his ribeye directly onto the pan without any oil.

Logan looked down at his thyme and butter, seemingly at a loss. “Just look at your notes.”

“I can’t read it. You know I have terrible handwriting. Look,” he flipped his notepad around to show Logan. “That’s all I wrote down.”

“Does that say goat?” Logan asked, not bothering to strip the leaves of thyme off the stems and just throwing the entire sprig of herb into his pan.

Finn turned it back around squinted. “Maybe?”

“I like your smiley faces, though.” Logan said, pressing a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek. The redhead smiled broadly.

“Thanks, baby.”

Dorcas hummed by Leo’s side. “I forgot they’re together.”

“Yeah,” Leo absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist. “Must be hard. Hockey’s not known for being accepting.” He tried not to think too much about his memories of locker rooms, judgmental eyes, and the slurs of his own teammates from years ago.

A shout from one of the recruits snapped him back to attention. The recruit was halfway across the room from her on-fire sauce and refusing to go back to her station. Leo sighed. “Flambéing was a horrible first lesson.”

“Maybe. But it sure is entertaining.” Dorcas raised her voice to be heard by the contestants. “Don’t leave pans on a stove unattended, please!”

“Let it rain!” Finn shouted, throwing salt into his pot of cooking potatoes. Dorcas cackled joyously as she watched.

“How much salt are you going to put in there?” Leo called, eyes wide.

Finn repeated, “Let it rain!” as if it were an actual answer.

“I think he just put a cup of salt in those potatoes.”

Dorcas was wheezing now, hunched over as she laughed.

“Laugh now, but we’re the ones who have to taste that.”

She instantly stopped laughing. “Oh shit.”

“We’re definitely going to need those drinks tonight.”

***

Logan’s dish was up first. Leo looked down at his steak and fished out a thyme stem, holding it up for him to see. “When you’re working with thyme, you really need to just use the leaves. When the stems are cooked they get really tough and can be like swallowing fish bones when they’re like this.” He cut into the ribeye and took a bite. “But your steak tastes really good. It’s perfectly cooked and not too dry.”

Logan flashed them a blinding smile (that might have left Leo a little speechless, but he wasn’t planning on admitting that anytime soon).

“The potatoes have a good consistency, too.” Dorcas added when Leo didn’t say anything else. “Good job, Logan.”

After several raw steaks, burned steaks, and soupy mashed potatoes were tasted, the dish both of the chefs were dreading the most appeared in front of them.

Finn’s potatoes.

Dorcas looked to Leo, then met Finn’s eyes. “Now, I haven’t come across many things I’m genuinely afraid to eat. But these potatoes…”

Finn laughed good-naturedly. “Yikes.”

Leo’s eyes bulged as he tried the potatoes. “I think I’m dehydrated now.”

“I think I have a water bottle somewhere, if you want it.”

“I’m tempted to take you up on that.” Dorcas said, voice strained. “In the future, go light on the salt.”

In the end, they had to eliminate the contestant who gave them burned steak and didn’t serve mashed potatoes at all. The directors called cut shortly after that and people visibly relaxed, chatting with friends while the cleaning crew came through and started dealing with the mess. Leo felt like he should probably help with that; there sure was a lot to clean. The crew would be here until midnight at this rate. So he grabbed a disinfectant spray and a rag, turning to start wiping things down and almost running right into Logan as he did so.

“Hey, chef!” Finn said from his spot next to the brunet. “Have your taste buds recovered yet?”

He laughed with a shrug. “I have a feeling they’ll be messed up from now until a month after this show ends. That might be for the best, anyways.”

“Why in the hell did you sign up for this?” Logan asked, head tilted in confusion. “You’re forced to eat awful food and watch a bunch of amateurs destroy this kitchen. Seems more stressful than anything.”

“I mean, watching you wave around that knife today just about gave me a heart attack-“ Finn interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter, causing Leo to smile as he continued, “But it’s fun teaching y’all. It’s a good change of pace. Doing just competitions gets old after a while.”

“Yeah, especially if you win all of them.”

Leo felt his cheeks heat up. “Not all of them.”

“Most of them, then.” Logan amended. “Don’t sell yourself short; you’re really good.”

“So are you guys.” Leo stammered a little, trying to think of the right words. “I – I just wanted to say it’s really cool that you’re both raising so much awareness for the need for diversity in hockey. It’s going to make a world of difference to a lot of people.”

I wish I’d had someone like the two of you to look up to when I was growing up.

He played with his bracelet again. It wasn’t a secret that he was gay – he’d talked about it a few times on various shows and competitions he’d participated in. That was one of the best things about the cooking industry. It didn’t matter who you were or what your secrets were; as long as you were a good cook, most people didn’t really care. Leo had realized at a young age that, no matter what he ended up doing with his life, he wasn’t going to hide any part of himself. He’d done that dance before, and he didn’t care to relive it any time soon.

Finn smiled, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Well, thanks. It hasn’t always been the easiest, but we’re happy.”

Leo resolutely ignored the strange pang in his chest at those words. It wasn’t fair of him to be jealous. “I’m glad.” He glanced around and noticed the progress the crew had made. “I should probably go. We’ve still got a lot to do before we head out.”

“Do you guys need any help?”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Seeing that you made most of this mess, maybe we should have you clean up,” he teased Finn, who pouted. “But no, we’re fine. Thanks for the offer, though. Y’all have a good night.”

“You too!” Logan called over his shoulder. He leaned over to whisper something to Finn, who threw his head back and laughed.

Leo turned away and started wiping down the nearest counter.

***

Post-Episode Interview

Leo: *gives the camera a pained look* Is cooking really this hard for people? I want to get out there and help them so badly, but I can’t. We’re supposed to just observe for this challenge.

The video switches from Leo talking to footage from the earlier challenge: Leo grimacing and taking an aborted step towards a recruit getting his face way too close to the fire. Leo looking on in horror as another recruit wields a knife incorrectly and nearly loses a finger. Dorcas laughing as a recruit tries to grab her potatoes out of a pot of hot water with her bare hands while Leo reaches out and grabs onto the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. “Oh god, this isn’t safe at all.” Dorcas ruffles his hair, standing on her tiptoes to do so. “Poor rookie. You get used to it.”

*Back to Leo in the interview room, pinching the bridge of his nose*

Leo: My hair will be completely gray by the end of this show.

[keanureevesisbae]

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 1

Summary: Adelaide Park meets Henry Cavill for the first time and she is obviously very nervous. 

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, just let me know. And please let me know what you guys think. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it 😘 

Masterlist // Introduction // Next chapter

I’ve never been to Italy before. Actually, before I was a renowned actress, I never came outside of LA. Growing up, my parents never had the money to go to a different city, let alone other countries. My vacations were spend solely in our small one room apartment back in Los Angeles by myself.

My parents were never rich. My dad worked long hours in a factory every single day, but earning just enough money to pay the rent and for me and mom to eat. One night, I saw him scraping the packages or our plats clean, so he had something to eat as well. After I saw that, I never ate all the food off my plate, because I realized that my dad was working the hardest, but was eating the least.

It always broke my heart to see both of them struggle. My mom used to be a cleaning lady, but after she got fired, she became a live-in nanny, which basically meant that from my sixth birthday, she was barely home anymore and I had to raise myself.

Hours on end I was alone. Back in school I barely had any friends—correction: I had no friends at all—and when I came home from school, I’d sit outside to do my homework, because dad didn’t have enough money to get a second set of keys.

I never complained about it, because I knew they were trying and I learned all too well from that one time when I asked for a Barbie doll back when I was five and I kept crying about it, because other kids had Barbie dolls and I was the only one who didn’t. My mom got so mad, that she grabbed my empty plate and threw it against the wall, while she was screaming something about how ungrateful I was. Mom never got mad, she was always admirably calm and collected, even when life got in the way like it did with us. Seeing her like this, meant she was serious and I never said anything about something like that anymore. I never asked for anything, at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I am so thankful for everything they taught me and did for me. It may have been a hard time, but every year for my birthday, they gave me something. It was always something I really needed, but I always appreciated how they went out of their way for me, wondering how many meals they skipped for this present.

It all became worse when I finished high school at the age of nineteen. I was older than everyone else, since I read so slowly and didn’t even understand it most of the time, causing me to get behind on many classes over the course of the years. Besides, our school wasn’t known for having the best results overall, so the fact that I didn’t score well, meant I was blending in with the rest.

I was working in a diner, because I wasn’t smart enough at all for a scholarship, when my mom got in a terrible accident, when she walked back home and she was hit by a car who ran through a red light. She was paralyzed from her waist down and besides the high hospital bills, she also needed psychical therapy, something that unfortunately isn’t free.

With what my dad and I were earning together, we couldn’t even pay two percent of those costs. I was thinking about putting myself up on a sugar daddy website, but I know I couldn’t lie to them, when I would come back with a lot of money. Besides, my dad was always very strict about what mom and I could and couldn’t do to make money and sugar daddies were off limits. He told me multiple times—even after mom’s accident—that we had nothing to worry about. That he would take care of it.

But I had something to worry about, because my father wasn’t getting any younger. He had been working too hard for too long and all he wanted, was staying with his wife, who he still loved so so much, despite everything they had gone through. I took up more shifts at the diner, only slowly coming to terms that, even with the tips I was receiving, it was never enough to cover the bills.

In about two months, my mom would be discharged from the facility, if we hadn’t paid at least something significant.

One day, I was walking back home from work, when I saw a huge billboard, with a message that a studio was looking for someone to star in one of the biggest sitcoms of that time: Remembering High School. Apparently, one of the new main characters (who was an adult) was having a flashback from when they were in high school—the main premise of the show. And that character happened to be an Asian lady.

I went in and decided I would try it out. I mean, I had no acting experience and solely did it to earn some money, but being Asian American was apparently enough and that was the beginning of my acting career.

At first the amounts of money I made were not enough to cover the medical costs, but it was enough to delay further payment and my mom could stay in the facility.

For years I had difficulty with reading, let alone reading out loud, with an audience, but somehow on the set, I could forget about that. I could finally be someone I really wanted to be. For a few moments I could forget all the sorrows and worries I had resting on my shoulders.

The first five weeks, I’d combine my new acting career with my job in the diner, but after awhile I became a recurring character and for a whole year, I was part of the cast. I remember walking into my mom’s room, showing both her and my dad the first episode I was going to star in. ‘I’m from Minnesota,’ was my first line and the beginning of a very promising career.

My parents were so proud of me. My dad didn’t even care about the money I made at first, because he was so happy that I was doing something that from the looks of it, I actually enjoyed.

Over the years, I’ve come to love acting, but no one knows I do it because of my family. Actually no one knew about my family situation and since I have zero friends, even in the industry (because I barely talk about my personal life and I never budge, even when the try to pry information about it. My co-stars are acquaintances, almost like neighbors: you know one another, but you don’t know them), no one is aware that every penny I earn, goes directly to my family.

Nowadays I make millions, but I’m mainly spending it on my mom, but also on other people who are paralyzed and need psychical therapy, but were in the same boat as my family and my parents met over time in the facility. Money doesn’t mean a lot to me and these people can use it a lot better than I can.

Besides, my parents worked so hard for me growing up, this is the only way for me to pay them back. Despite not having any money themselves, nor stuff, they always taught me to share, to make sure that other people are well taken care off.

The flight from Japan to Italy moved along pretty quick, but maybe that’s because I was traveling first class. My latest movie took place in Japan and though I loved it there, I really want to see what Italy is like, after spending eight months in a lousy hotel in Japan.

After becoming an actress, I went to a lot of great places for shooting movies. I went to Suriname, Canada, Spain, Australia and this time it was Japan. I’m so blessed that I get to travel, knowing really well that other people are still struggling with what I used to struggle with. Sometimes I donate the earnings of a movie to movements that catch my eye, that help kids in certain areas of California with their school work, and with access of clothes and food. I always donate anonymously, not wanting to seem like a philanthropist who is doing this solely for her own image.

I always think that if you really care about something, you would do it without earning praises.

Participating on ‘The Celebrity Project’ wasn’t something I would normally do, but when they reached out to me, I was actually delighted that I was going to be part of this. Maybe I could finally show the world that I’m not as stupid as I appear in interviews.

Being a loner, a slow reader and probably has multiple learning disabilities (if I actually got tested, but the tests were too expensive and no one at school seemed to care and I’m actually too embarrassed to get myself tested now I’m a twenty-five year old), I often come off as an airhead and it’s my own fault really. I do give them enough stupid material to go on about that accusation.

However, I’m really nervous. I mean, I’m going to work together with Henry Cavill. He is charming and sounds so intelligent. When I was done filming and back at my hotel room, I’d watch his interviews, because I wanted to know what I was going to work with. The way he is so articulate and he obviously knows what he is doing, makes me feel even worse about myself. I’m a total disaster and already a burden to him I presume.

I’m sitting in a taxi, waiting for traffic to calm down a bit. It’s early in the mornings and thankfully I got to make myself a bit more presentable in the plane already. I notice the tiny camera’s being strategically placed in the car. It really begun, I think to myself. I’m part of a reality show now. ‘How are you feeling, miss Park?’ the taxi driver asks. ‘I recently heard about this program.’

‘I’m a bit nervous,’ I say, wondering whether or not he is payed to to talk to me about this. I rummage through my purse, hoping I can find my lip balm.

‘Are you looking forward to work with Henry Cavill?’

That name alone makes me nearly make me shit my pants already. ‘Yeah, he seems like a nice man, so I really look forward to work with him.’ And I sure as hell hope that I won’t let him down.

The drive to the hotel is about an hour, but it feels like time is going by a whole lot faster.  The chauffeur talks about his family and how his wife is actually a fan of my movies and has watched every single one of them. I took a few pictures with him and signed the inside of the cracker box, because that was all he got with him for me to write something on.

After I said goodbye to him, I’m told that I should go to room 346. With my suitcases with me, I step into the elevator, a cameraman close by. They told me that at one point, these cameramen would just be invisible to me, but I highly doubt it. They are only with us during the assignments. In the cars and at the place where we’re staying, the camera’s are hidden.

When I’m in front of the door, I take a deep breath.

I can do this I think to myself. I have starred alongside other talented people. My first real role was playing Keanu Reeves’ daughter, I was Angela Bassett’s assistant and I also had some pretty steamy scenes with David Castañeda, after his Umbrella Academy days. I can handle being around Henry Cavill, right? I knock on the door three times and I open it a bit, peeking my head around the door.

I can conclude that I’m severely underdressed. I’m wearing a simply jean short, white crop top with some lace on the borders and socks with the same lace details as my top, paired with white sneakers.

I look like a slob, compared to Henry, who seems like he stepped out of a Disney movie.  His white blouse, off-white pants and those loafers. The only thing that is missing, is his yacht with the name Serenity.

A smile creeps up on my face, as I step into the room, rolling my pink suitcases with me, because he actually looks approachable.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a small smile on his face. He walks up to me, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, nice to meet you.’

I can’t help but blush. He is so charming and his accent makes him so posh. I place my hand in his and it almost disappears. Not to be that girl, but my size kink is activated right here and now. ‘Adelaide,’ I say. ‘Uhm, it’s nice to meet you… Too.’

I curse my tongue.

‘How was your flight?’ he asks, as he gestures to the couch for us to sit on.

I take place right next to him and I feel like a child sitting next to her dad. Why is he so massive? ‘It was okay. Yours?’

‘It flew by.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Was that… a pun?’

Henry chuckles nervously. ‘Maybe, I’m sorry.’

I look around me. The hotel room seems okay, but I bet we’re not going to stay here for long. I stare at the silver tray in front of us, with a set of keys and an envelope with our names on it.

Henry takes the envelope from the tray and holds it in front of me. ‘You want to read it?’

I shake my head. ‘No, you go.’ The whole idea of reading out loud without practice, makes me want to vomit. Before the table reads, I use this program that will read everything for me, even using the right intonation. I stay up for way too many hours for that, because once I’ve heard it, I made notes, I can better read it.

Back when I was doing ‘Remembering High School’ I had the woman who played the adult version of me read it to me, because I had to portray the young her and keep her character in mind. Since she was an established character on the show, she had certain ways of saying things I had to copy. She never knew the real reason I wanted her to read it out loud for me.

He cocks an eyebrow, but then opens the envelope. He clears his throat, before a dramatic reading of our first assignment rolls out of his mouth. How can he make a simple note sound so… Sensual, almost? His deep and dark voice, making it sound way more intense than it actually is. I wouldn’t mind if he read my scripts out loud for me.

‘Dear Adelaide and Henry, the adventure of ‘The Celebrity Project’ has officially started,’ he says, tilting the card a little, so I can read a little bit with him. It’s a nice gesture really and I appreciate the thought. ‘We have provided you with a nice car, to drive to the little cottage, specially arranged for the two of you. Tomorrow will be a nice day for you to relax (because you two are both severely jet lagged we presume) and the day after that, you’ll be expected for your first assignment. Enjoy the car ride and remember: look out of your window every now and then. We are aware that Henry is really handsome, Adelaide and you’ll be forced to only look at him, but nature can be beautiful too.’

I scrunch up my nose. That last sentence seemed so forced and this is exactly the reason why I don’t like these types of survival, borderline reality shows. It’s not reality. It’s this forced setting, hoping to get people to believe that this is how real life should look like.

And I don’t like deceiving people like that. I almost regret participating.

‘Right, well, we might as well just go,’ he says, his tone flat, maybe just as annoyed with that last sentence as I am. Probably even more so.

◎ ◎ ◎

Why is there a pink carseat in the passengers seat? I mean, I’m not the tallest, but I’m definitely not that tiny. I look around us, only to see no member of the crew around. This is great. I want to take the seat out, because I don’t want to sit on it, but it’s securely fastened and only with a different set of keys, I can undo it.

And of course I don’t have that.

I really regret being here.

However, I still sit on the carseat, because I don’t want to sit in the back because I’ll get carsick and when I see Henry’s cocked eyebrows and a poorly hidden smirk, I simply say: ‘Don’t.’

Okay, maybe I do understand why they put me on a carseat, because this man looks so enormous and otherwise I’m simply non existent. He starts the car and simply drives off. I don’t know whether or not I should say something to him, because I feel like we should talk.  I mean, that’s why the camera’s are here right?

‘What is your newest movie about?’ Henry asks.

‘About a woman escaping from her past and she moves to Japan, when one day an old friend becomes her new manager,’ I say.

‘Romantic comedy?’

‘Of course.’

He nods. ‘You don’t get tired of doing those?’ he asks.

Yes, I do get a bit tired of them, but there are two things: for starters, just like those romance books (that I would buy my mom one for her birthday every year, because I knew how much she loved those), romantic comedies sell really good. And no one wants me for something else. I feel like directors don’t trust me with big roles, like Rose in Titanic or someone else major. Besides, I’m Asian American, when was the last time one of us got a major part in a movie that’s not a romantic comedy?

But I don’t want to seem ungrateful and it’s a nice stream of money coming in every time and that’s basically all I want.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. You shot something new… new movie… Right?’ For fuck sake, Adelaide, you were doing so well.

‘I did, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s something I’m very excited for. It’s more of a dramatical part.’ I listen to Henry, as he is talking about this movie. How he plays a single dad, trying to figure out this parenting part with his daughter, when his brother and sister-in-law pass away and he has to take in four monsters of boys in his house. The way he talks about this, I notice a shimmer in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologizes. ‘I let myself go there for a second. It’s just I’m really excited about this movie.’

‘No, I get it,’ I say, as I look out of the window. I let out a deep sigh, as we drive over the sandy roads. Before I can say something else (as if I knew what), Henry hits the break and like the cliches in the movies, he holds out his arm in front of me, as the car comes to a halt.

There are four dogs and one owner on the road and the man screams something in Italian to us. Clearly we were supposed to stop for him. ‘Shit, sorry,’ Henry mumbles, as if the man could hear that.

His warm hand dropped to my bare thigh and with my pointer finger I tap him on the back of his hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

‘Oh no, terrible sorry,’ he says quickly, retracting his hand. ‘What do you think the cottage will look like?’ Henry asks, when he pulled up again, not driving as fast as he did before.

Shrugging I play with my water bottle. ‘I don’t know, but I think I know one thing.’

It takes me a while before I can get the words out of my mouth, but Henry doesn’t force me to say anything, by asking something like: ‘Care to let me in?’ He actually lets me find the words and it feels nice not to be rushed into saying something.

‘I bet there is one bed that is large and comfortable. However, there is also one uncomfortable couch, too small for you. So people want to see whether or not you are a… gentleman and offer to sleep on the couch.’

‘You think?’ he asks frowning. ‘A bit far fetched, don’t you think?’

When we arrive at the tiny cottage, we walk inside. It’s nice decorated, warm colors mixed with nice hints of different pastel colors. My eye falls on the very uncomfortable looking couch that is pretty tiny if Henry is supposed to be sprawled out on that, but we don’t know what the rest looks like.

After a small tour through the house, we have come to the conclusion that there is indeed only one bed. I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Henry’s. ‘See?’

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @jolly-polly​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @maan24​ // @diegos-butt​ / @agniavateira​ // 

[oumiyuki]

Rikyako’s Feelings

Summary: Rikyako may or may not have a crush on Aikyan. And she has a hard time coming to terms with it and on what to do. So she seeks advice from one of the members of Aqours!

Pairing: Rikyako x Aikyan (KyanRika), hints of AnShuka too ;)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Developing Relationship and Frienship!

Words: 2460

Author’s Notes

Bet y’all weren’t expecting me to write KyanRika! Wahahaha!!!! XD

May you enjoy~ XD

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

Rikyako sighs in between catching her breath, wiping her sweat off her face with a towel in hand as she walked to an open seat in the gathering room with the long white tables.

I’m exhausted…

Rikyako notices that Aikyan sits directly opposite of her and she feels her heartbeat speed up when it should be slowing back down after their dance practice.

Ah… Aikyan is…sitting in front of me… Wiping her sweat…smiling…

“…might not be getting that part right?”

To Ainya.

Laughter bubbles out of Aikyan as she shakes her hand, reassuring Ainya and agreeing at the same time. “Yes, you should probably turn a little slower and then…Ha!”

“Ha!” Ainya mimics as taught then giggles.

Aikyan laughs along and turns back in front, catching Rikyako staring, their eyes meet and Rikyako hopes her face is still flushed from earlier instead of being caught blushing because she was staring at Aikyan.

Gosh, what do I do when I keep blushing just from our eyes meeting??

Rikyako raises her towel to use wiping her sweat as an excuse for breaking the eye contact. When she hears Aikyan talking to Ainya again, she sighs under her breath turning her head again to see that the other girls were drinking sports drinks and cooling off.

Some even wiping each other’s sweat – and by some – it was Anju and Shuka, smiling tiredly but blissfully as they pushed the towel on each other’s exposed skin to clean the sweat off, laughing about whatever they were talking about. Rikyako felt a tinge of envy.

Anchan and Shuka look so cute together… I mean they are and… If only I…

Rikyako looks back to the person who comes to mind whenever she thinks of a romantic partner and when their eyes meet again, Rikyako drops her head immediately to stare at a space on the table.

Eh!? W-Was Aikyan looking at me? Am I imagining things?

Ainya for once was sharp and noticed something going on between Rikyako and Aikyan, or perhaps it was her spot-on gay sense tingling again, but the small and cute singer asks, “Is there something you want to say to Kyan, Rikyako?”

“Eh? No…I… No?” Rikyako smiles a confused smile to Ainya, trying and failing to not let her eyes peek back at Aikyan to see her face, that beautiful porcelain face and just to see if she was looking.

If Anchan and Shuka are literal magnets, my eyes and Aikyan just might be the next magnetic thing since I cannot seem to not look. At. Her!! Aaahhh!

Rikyako kept up the serene smile while she panicked on the inside. Conflicted at how badly she wants to openly stare at Aikyan whom she has a crush on and wanted to not admit to it. Or not admit it to the world.

Ainya hums thoughtfully. “Hmm… You’ve been looking at her though.”

“N-No. I was not!” Rikyako feels her cheeks grew hot again at being called out for her blatant staring.

Ahh, was I that obvious about it??

“Hmm… Lately, you’ve been doing that a lot.” Ainya pushes.

“You’re misunderstanding things…” Rikyako does look to Aikyan again, however, and quickly averts her gaze when their eyes meet, causing Rikyako’s heart to skip a beat again.

What is with those eyes and their magic capability to make my heart do those somersault kinds of things!!

Averting her gaze by turning her head away again, Rikyako happens to make eye contact with Shuka on the left side, just done giving Anju some headpats for doing well in today’s dance practice; the leader of Aqours giving a silly “Heh heh heh” to Shuka.

Ah… I wish I could be as honest as Shuka…

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

Rikyako manages to avoid having to explain her obvious staring and constant fidgety behaviour around Aikyan and with everyone changed out of their practice wear and into their casual clothes; everyone was free to leave the dance studio and do what they want for the rest of the day.

Maybe I could ask Shuka for advice…

Rikyako has been thinking long and hard about this, ever since she realized her growing feelings for her groupmate who was also her subunit mate, all the time spent together and the impossible heart racing she had to live with when they were close..! Rikyako wanted some progress and felt like it would be best to confide to someone.

Shuka is always such a good listener to what I have to say…

But getting Shuka alone was hard. Shuka was almost always with someone if not Anju!

Gosh, are you forever with Anchan or what??

When resting, she was with Anju. When changing, she was talking to Anju. When walking about she was chilling with Anju! And on other times when Rikyako thought Shuka was alone, the girl was chatting with another member!!!

When will Shuka give me a chance to get her alone..! Mou!

Shuka was just about to flutter over to AiAi to chat when she lets out a surprised yelp as she was pulled by her arm backwards. “Rikyako? What’s up?”

“Can we talk for a bit? I…need your advice on something.” Rikyako blinks nervously as she blurts out her intentions.

Shuka smiles a wry smile, seemingly having a hunch on what is up. “Your treat?”

She’s a literal little sister.

“Fine.” Rikyako returns a relaxed smile at Shuka grinning cutely to get treated.

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

At the café, Rikyako chose a corner of the store where it was quieter and less busy to sit at. Not wanting any possible eavesdroppers and also not wanting to get overly conscious about people’s gazes.

Shuka scoots into her spot and grins. “I’ll have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino and a…Blueberry Crumble Muffin!”

Rikyako chuckles. “Sure, sure.”

Hmm… What should I get..?

Rikyako heads up to the counter, with one person ordering in front, she took the time to browse the menu and display of pastries.

What should I ask Shuka first..? About how to be confident about my feelings..? Or about how to confess..? I guess this should be obvious.

It was her turn to order so Rikyako steps up with a soft smile greeting the cashier. “May I have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, a Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin?”

“One Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, one Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin. And the name..?”

“Ah. Ka-chan.” Rikyako says and lowers her head as she remembers how she thought the rest of the girls were calling her mum when they meant to use the ‘ka’ in her Rikako.

The cashier lady probably did not think much about it but Rikyako still felt slight embarrassment from her silliness.

Maybe I should have said RKK.

Rikyako makes the payment and decides to wait about instead of going back to her seat; wanting just a few more minutes to think of what she might want to ask Shuka for help with.

It’s this day and age already and yet… I can’t help but feel that there’s a chance that Aikyan might not like me that way…

Rikyako shakes her head lightly.

No, that’s not it… I’m worried…about what others would think. Everyone seems open-minded, especially seen with Anchan and Shuka’s relationship reveal…

Rikyako closes her eyes as her eyebrows knitted together.

No… There’s no point lying to myself. The problem here is that… I’m worried about what the world thinks about me being in love with another girl…

Rikyako sighs just as her name was called.

“Ka-chan.”

Rikyako puts on a smile quickly as she took her orders onto a tray and returns to Shuka who pushed her phone to the side and gave Rikyako a smile and thanks.

Somehow… I don’t feel as scared about these feelings when looking at Shuka.

“Ooh~ This looks yummy.” Shuka held the fork in hand as she eyed her dessert. “Oh, you didn’t get yourself something?”

“No, I got to keep my calorie count checked.” Rikyako smirks and Shuka laughs.

“Right, right. There was that.” Shuka takes a bite and elicits a happy sound.

So carefree…

“Were you texting Anchan?”

“Mm. Was it that obvious?” Shuka nods, swallows, and replies.

Rikyako sips her drink. “Now that I think about it, it was quite the redundant question since you two are always texting when apart.���

Shuka’s cheeks pinken slightly. “That’s not true.”

Rikyako shakes her head with a fond smile at the younger girl’s bashfulness. “Did you…tell Anchan that you’re with me?”

Shuka seems thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “She was going to take me out on a date after all.”

“Oh.” Rikyako’s eyes widens slightly. “I’m sorry, if you got something on-”

“Was.” Shuka repeats then smiles widely. “Anju texted me that she can’t believe she got beaten by you in asking me out~”

Oh… So they have yet to make plans… Thank goodness.

“It is truly hard to believe since you two are stuck together like glue!” Rikyako shakes her head again, giving herself a mental pat on the back for being able to get Shuka alone.

Shuka laughs. “It would seem to be the case.”

“It is the case!” Rikyako chuckles at Shuka’s funny smile and shaking of her head, pretending to be in denial.

Granting some silence to munch on the muffin and drink their drinks, Rikyako fidgeted with the paper that once held the straw till it was all crumpled up nicely.

“Shuka…”

“Yeah?”

“How did you decide that…you are 100% gay for Anchan?” Rikyako squishes the paper in her hand tightly, nervous about whatever answer she could be getting, nervous about the topic.

Ahhh.

Shuka looks right at Rikyako before reacting. “Pfft, how I fell in love with Anju? That’s easy-”

“The being gay part is important too.” Rikyako hurries to emphasize.

“I know. And you’re overthinking things, Rikyako.” Shuka had a gentle smile on her lips and Rikyako felt her tenseness reduce a little.

“Love is love. Regardless of gender. Anju is Anju. So… I fell in love with her.”

Rikyako nods, listening intently.

Love is love… Anchan is Anchan and so… Shuka who is Shuka. Fell in love with Anchan…

“And Kyan is Kyan. You’re in love with Kobayashi Aika-san. Correct?”

Kyan is Kyan. And I’m in love with—

Rikyako’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell agape in surprise as Shuka had a big smug grin, looking ridiculous as she waggled her eyebrows teasingly at Rikyako.

“H-How did you..?” Rikyako’s face was hot and red.

“Call it women’s intuition!” Shuka cackles.

Rikyako snorts. “Even though you’re a kid.”

“Hey! I’m already an adult!” Shuka puffs her cheeks out indignantly at Rikyako who forgets about her own crush problems as a tease bubbled in her mind and out her mouth.

“Anchan made you an adult?”

“Wha— T-That’s not the point!” Shuka blushes immediately causing Rikyako to blush a little more too.

“She did, huh…” Rikyako looks away and so does Shuka.

I guess that should be expected but aahhhh..!! No, don’t imagine it, Rikako. Shuka is too pure to be…to be… by Anchan…! No stop. The images. Aaahh!

Shuka fidgets with the straw in her drink, stirring the contents randomly. “Can we not talk of that right now?”

With extra reddened cheeks, Rikyako nods and mumbles. “Looks like I will need to look for you for help again if I can…come to terms with myself and find the courage to…”

Confess…///

“R-Right. I’m here for you, Aida.”

“Saitou.”

Rikyako and Shuka share a staring match before bursting into laughter.

.

.

.

Shuka was finished with her blueberry muffin when she props her chin on her hand. “So…Do you think you will be able to confess to Aikyan?”

“Don’t think so…” Rikyako sighs as she glanced at Shuka and back down at the table.

I know I’m in love with Aikyan but how am I supposed to even go about confessing to her???

“Rikyako.” Shuka calls for the older girl’s attention.

When Rikyako looks up into earnest brown eyes, she could not help but sit up straighter.

“Tell me who you love.”

“Eh? You already know..?” Rikyako’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Tell me who you love.” Shuka repeats with a small nod, trusting that Rikyako will catch on.

Oh… She wants me to say it aloud.

“I…” Rikyako begins and finds her voice stuck.

“I… I love…” Rikyako licks her lips and grabs her drink to help with this sudden dryness of her lips.

Why is it so hard??

Shuka waits patiently, subtly placing her drink to the side, giving Rikyako her full attention.

“I love… …”

Rikyako wanted to let out another sigh, wanted to give up and say it was too difficult for her to do so right now. Maybe she needed another day. A few more hours. Some alone time to pep-talk herself. But before she could—

“Riiikyako.” Shuka drags the first syllable for a bit and Rikyako looks up to see that patient smile again; the magic of Shuka’s smile already stealing some tension away from Rikyako’s creased eyebrows and heavy shoulders. “Just think about her. Don’t think about anything else. …Then tell me who it is.”

I love… the one I love…

“She’s lovely.”

“I’m sure she is.” Shuka’s lips pull higher as she knew it was working.

“She’s kind. And patient.”

Shuka nods and Rikyako feels something bubbling inside her – the desire to talk about the person she loves.

“She’s silly and funny. And she makes me laugh and knows me. Like, like no other…” Rikyako unknowingly lets out a dreamy sigh as she thought of her crush.

Shuka nods encouragingly.

“She’s someone that I wish to be able to…be together more. And to… h-h-hold hands with… Like you and Anchan do.”

Shuka chuckles softly. “I’m sure you’ll get to.”

“And…maybe get a kabedon or two…” Rikyako scratches her pinkened cheeks at the idea.

Shuka giggles. “She’d get embarrassed too though.”

“Very much so.” Rikyako giggles along.

“I love that about her too.”

“Me too…”

“Who is this wonderful person~?” Shuka sing-songs.

“She’s… Kobayashi Aika. I’m sure you know her too.” Rikyako grins, a glint in her eyes and a weight off her chest.

“I love Aikyan…” Rikyako says aloud, in a gentle tone, in a voice filled with so much love that it surprised herself.

Shuka beams from ear to ear. “Now go tell her that!”

“O-One step at a time!” Rikyako covers her face with both hands; failing to hide the wide smile she could not help but smile at admitting the enormous love she feels for Aikyan.

Confessing was a hurdle for another day. Right now, Rikyako simply felt lighter, like she could float up into the air with just these feelings of love she has for Aikyan. And she loved the feeling.

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

Author Notes

PAAAAART ONEEEEEEE!!!!

Yes, you heard that right! There’s going to be another chapter of KyanRika in the near future!!! *O*

And I do hope y’all look forward to it~ XD

But first..~ How did you like this first chapter? OwO

I thought it’d be cute to touch on Rikyako being a little unsure about…admitting her feelings. It’s something that isn’t easy after all! And even if it’s so freaking obvious that she has a big crush on Aikyan, it doesn’t mean that Rikyako herself wouldn’t be worrying about it~ :))))

Also since Rikyako loves mentioning how much she likes that Shuka listens to her talk; why not let Shuka be the wingwoman while I have some of my favourite AnShuka in this right? Hehehe~ UwU

Leave a comment if you like! ^w^ Let me know your favourite parts! :D

And see you next chappie~ ;D

[lizzy-williams]

𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

((Howdy there, this is my first time writing on here, so I hope you enjoy!))

Masterlist

Summary: You accept a job as an assistant to the now world-famous Colson Baker, who shattered the charts with his album Tickets To My Downfall, and an Oscar winner for his success in the award-winning film titled Midnight in the Switchgrass, which also starred his ex, Megan Fox. But once you are accepted for the job, you seem to get closer than anticipated with Mr. Baker. 

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑫 graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, you had never expected to be getting a job like this. Sure, you had heard about your employer. He had won an Oscar for christ’s sake. Not to mention a Grammy-winning album. You had to say that personally, you were a fan, which was one of the main reasons you interviewed for the job. But never in a million years did you think you would land it. 

When you were employed, you were expected to start right after you had applied, which you obliged, even though his house was a thirty-minute drive away. 

So now, there you were, sitting in your car, taking deep breaths. You had arrived several minutes early. You had pulled into the driveway, breathing in and out as you prepared yourself. You were excited but scared out of your mind.

“Come on, AJ, you got this, just go in there and try to not be a nuisance,” you spoke to yourself. With a deep breath, you exited the vehicle brushing yourself up, walking up the long, intimidating stairs. 

You raised your hand up, taking hold of the lion-shaped knocker and knocked three times, the echos being heard even from the outside. The door was large and almost looming over you with its height. You took the waiting time to look around at the garden out front, trimmed to perfection and colorful pink roses littering the gravel. It was nothing less than stunning. 

“Who’s there?” a voice asked, making you jump, your eyes shifting around. 

You then realized the voice was a Ring doorbell system, and you mentally slapped yourself for not just using that. You leaned down slightly, trying to meet the camera’s eye, giving a warm smile. 

“Um, I’m Adeline Williams, I’m the new assistant for Mr. Baker, I was instructed to start today,”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” 

The voice was deeper then what you would think Mr. Baker would sound like, having seen plenty of interviews. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall African-American male. He had to be at least six feet tall. 

“What’s up, I’m Slim,” He held his hand out for a handshake, which you quickly took. 

“Yeah, I’m Adeline, but you can just call me AJ,” you responded, “Where is Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. His manager made you a binder for your duties and other stuff. It’s good to meet you though, just feel free to come in and grab your stuff in the kitchen.” He stated, stepping aside and motioning for you to enter. 

You walked in, taking in the entryway. The walls were littered with gold record plaques for collabs he had done with other artists. Paintings of him were scattered around, some furniture almost automatically spotted that looked more expensive than your entire apartment. The ceiling was high-up, light fixtures illuminating the space, giving off a warm feel to the area. 

You slipped off your flats, Slim already slipping away into the maze of the house, leaving you to find the kitchen by yourself. Your sock-clad feet patted across the hard floor, your eyes wandering around, trying to find the kitchen in the stupidly large house. 

You walked down a hallway, reaching another large room, but now the walls were covered in posters and guitars, a drum set in the corner, recording systems, speakers, and even a Monster Energy Drink sponsored mini fridge which was fully stocked, drawings and art above it, the window next to it letting a fair amount of light in, the curtains drawn. You walked over to the drum set, running your hand on one of the symbols, which had sadly had a light coat of dust on it. Come to think of it, so did most of the other instruments.

“You could play them if you want,” another voice said behind you, making you jump and whip around, your eyes instantly meeting the eyes of your employer. 

He was tall, six foot four according to Google, his exposed chest littered with so many tattoos, you couldn’t possibly count them all. His bleach-blond hair was long and shaggy on top of his head, meaning he had probably just woken up, grey sweatpants covering his bottom half, the hem of his boxers peeking over the waistband of the grey material, making you blush and meet his eyes again. 

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t play,” you then mentally slapped yourself once again, “Sorry, what am I saying. I’m Adeline - Um, Williams, I’m here as your new assistant.” 

He looked you up and down, taking in you attire, a slight sneer appearing on his face, only for a second. You guessed by his reaction that you were over-dressed. 

“You look like a kindergarten teacher.” he laughed. 

“Uhm, noted, do you... want me to take off my sweater or something?” you asked. 

He scoffed, biting his lip and turning away, holding back from saying something that you were guessing would piss you off. 

You sighed, slipping off your sweater and messing with your hands, “Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Your friend, Slim told me that your manager had had something in there for me,”

“Yeah, follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, your own small feet scuttering across the floor, following him. 

And of course, the kitchen was as stunning at the rest of the house, the size, making it look like a gourmet kitchen. And there on one of the granite countertops was a .5 inch pale white binder. Colson walked over to his coffee machine, starting it up and watching you walk over, opening it up. 

It listed normal duties like setting up venues for tours, making appointments with the production company, merchandise shipment, and payment, normal duties for Colson himself, (Making iced coffee, booking flights, rides for Casie, his daughter, for school, etc.), and traveling with him to the recording studio for sessions, along with renting time for the studio itself. 

“So, what do ya think. The list gonna scare you off?” he asked, a sly smile on his face. 

“Well, seems easy enough. It just seems like a lot of booking things.” you smiled, “But it shouldn’t be a problem at all, Mr. Baker.”

He grimaced, “Yikes, just call me Colson. You make me sound like an old man. And if I’m going to be seeing you every day, we kinda need to be on a first-name basis.” he said, opening one of the hundreds of cabinets on the wall, pulling out a mug, “What’s your name again?”

“Adeline. But you can just call me AJ.” you looked back down at the papers, turning to a page to all the numbers needed for your position. 

“What’s the J?” 

“Huh?” you asked, not looking away from the page. 

“Well, in AJ I already know what the A is, so what’s the J?” He smirked, pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker, pressing start. 

“Oh, um, Jane.” you shrugged off. 

“Adeline Jane Williams,” he repeated to himself out loud. 

Your heart unintentionally fluttered. Never in a million years did you think that Colson Baker, Machine Gun Kelly, would ever say your full name. 

The day went by smoothly, your brain soon catching onto the rhythm of things, you and Colson making small talk as you typed away, sending emails to the publishing companies, his agent, manager, and PR team. Colson would occasionally text you to make him a drink, which you did, always getting right back to work afterward. People came in and out, paying you no mind. The only one you honestly recognized was Rook, his drummer, who only came in to grab a beer from the fridge. Soon enough, the time reached 5 o’clock. 

“So, what do you wanna eat?” he suddenly asked, walking into the kitchen area, leaning over the counter you were working at. 

The sound of the TV played as you heard the laughter of a group of people in the other room. 

“Oh, I honestly have no preference,” you answered honestly, looking up from your Chromebook. 

“You sure? Me and the guys were gonna Postmate some stuff, but they can’t decide either.”

“Ummm, I heard there’s a really good restaurant downtown called Beau Jo's. Hear they have a mean menu of Cajun food.” you perked up, 

“Alright, Beau Jo’s it is.” He responded, picking up his phone and walking away. 

Even though you two had small talk, you still felt like he was so cold to you. Like he didn’t like you, or he didn’t trust you. But you really needed this job. After you finished with your work, you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

There, you were greeted with glancing eyes of 20 or more people, who were scattered throughout the space. 

A man walked up to you, looking eccentric as ever. You only knew him because you knew he dated Bella Thorne, but you would never tell him that. 

“Heyyyy, you must be the new assistant. Welcome to the best years of your life!” he greeted, slinging an arm around your shoulders, a cola in his other hand. The smell of expensive cologne. 

“Modern Sunshine, I presume?” I asked in a snobby British accent, making him laugh. 

“Yo Kells! I like this chick!” he called out to Colson, who was across the room talking to some blond broad in short shorts and a crop top. 

“Why don’t you come meet the rest of the guys.”

Well, you knew it was coming. It was the end of the night and everyone had gone home, and it was your job to order Ubers for everyone who wasn’t fit to drive. (Which was close to half the people there). 

You gathered up your things, sighing as you grabbed your kindergarten teacher sweater, packing it in your bag along with your computer and everything else. Finally, you tucked the binder into the back pocket. 

“You heading out?” Colson asked from behind you, his hand on your shoulder. 

Your arms formed goosebumps as you looked back smiling, “Yeah, I think it’s that time.” 

“Cool. Well, have a good night.” he said while you slipped on your flats, “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

You turned your head to look into his eyes. 

“Tomorrow wear something more... spicy,”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

If it bites, curses, claws, and hisses, It’s very unwise to ask it for wishes.

Hey @r-rowancore remember that uwu fic I threw out but said I would rewrite? It may be a lot different than how I originally had it, but here it is:

There was only so much that Inkwell could do to help. Likewise, there was only so much that he wanted to do to help.

When Thomas went to him asking for his humanity back, the demon declined, stating that it was impossible for him to turn a being of ink into a being of flesh again. When he went to him asking if he could look human again, the demon again declined, stating that he didn’t have access to any pictures of how the mechanic had looked before his death, nor could he find his body, thus, he had no proper reference and could end up making him something that he was not.

And he gave a similar excuse when Tom asked for his voice back.

It smelled of bullshit if you asked him, with the demon’s exaggerated body language, annoying amount buffer words, refusal to look the wolf man in the eye while he spoke, he knew that he was lying through those daggers that he called his teeth.

He could make them human again, or at least make them look human enough again, Henry Stein was living proof of that. The Ink Demon just insisted on redrawing them as cartoons because misery loves company.

Instead of doing something like making him feel comfortable in his ink skin, the demon simply ‘updated’ his character sheet. He looked more like a wolf than a dog now, he was bigger in both size and stature, and his fur was starting to gray, especially around the muzzle.

Don’t get him wrong, he liked not having to look at Boris every time he looked in a mirror, but he hated everything about this and honestly, it was only a matter of time before he’d grow desperate enough to try to do something that even he thought was completely stupid:

Summoning a demon, a different demon from the ones he knew, one who would hopefully, help him out.

Thomas gathered the correct items for the ritual; four candles, one mask, some thick ink, and a place to call ...it. He didn’t know what would come from out of this, but if Buddy and Boris of all people could summon this thing enough times to dedicate a bathroom to doing it, then whoever or whatever he was going to call must’ve been safe enough for him to summon.

He had everything set up just the way he saw the alter in Buddy’s safe house bathroom; lit the candles, placed down the mask, and waited.

...

...This couldn’t be it, could it?

It couldn’t just be some weird decoration in a closed-off bathroom, like it or not, magic was real and so were demons! Something was supposed to happen! Did he screw it up? Lit the candles in the wrong order? Did he not do it at the right time? What was it?!

Oh right, he wasn’t in the studio anymore.

He wasn’t in a “whimsical” cartoon world made entirely by the machine and its ink, the ritual dedicated to whatever Buddy summoned might’ve worked back in the studio, but just like how a normal human being couldn’t take down a living park ride with soup cans, the alter where it was had been just as effective as spraying silly string in the shape of a star on the ground.

The cursed wolf let out an annoyed huff and started to slunk out of the basement, he would be cussing up a storm if he could, but he didn’t have a voice.

CRASH!

As he was halfway up the stairs, he heard a loud noise coming from the failed ritual. He turned around and saw something large flailing on the floor.

He cautiously descended back down and realized that he had indeed fucked up; the entity he had summoned had a humanoid upper half, the lower half of a fish, and more importantly was struggling to breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

The cursed mechanic tried to carry the deep sea demon bridal style as the slippery creature flailed harder and started to claw at him and bite him. No wonder the alter was set up in the bathroom, this thing needed water!

“Gad fi fynd!” Between futile gasps for breath, the creature shouted at him in a voice that he could swear was like someone taking a bunch of instruments and trying to use them to mimic human speech. “Dydw i ddim yn mynd i fod yn rhan o'ch cynlluniau, llaw dde Joey Drew!”

Tom didn’t understand a word out of the creature’s mouth aside from the name he said, nor did he think of that at this time. Desperate to keep the angry sea demon alive, when it has struggled free from his grasp, Tom seized the being by his tail and started dragging him up the stairs that way. He considered pulling him up by the hair at first but that only made his mouth closer to his hands.

The merman continued to thrash against his captor, now hissing at him like a snake and barring a mouth full of long, sharp teeth that the creature had too many of for comfort, especially now that they were stained with Tom’s ink.

But the wolf wasn’t impressed by the demon’s attempt at intimidation, he could hiss and claw all he wanted but he was not dealing with Inkwell’s refusal to help him, or having to explain to Henry why there was a dead demonic fish on the floor!

After the longest one and a half minutes of both of their lives, the fish demon was unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub, and the water was turned on. In spite of the awkward positioning, the demon squeezed himself into the end of the tub with the facet, it was an uncomfortable position, but the running water over his gills relaxed him a bit.

Both parties let out a sigh of relief as the demon waited for the tub to fill up and Tom went back into the basement to fetch a notepad, a pencil, and an english-to-welsh dictionary.

---

The latter of the three items became the hardest one to find, and by the time he did and got back to his ‘guest’ the sea demon looked like he was both anxious and bored out of his mind, his long hair pooling in the tub like a cloud and his claws still tapping away on the side of the bathtub. He was not happy to see him again per se, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to bite him again.

Helo. Tom flipped through the dictionary, found the words he was looking for, wrote them down and showed the creature. Allwch chi ddeall hyn?

The demon rolled his eyes and spoke in that voice made of instruments again, not sounding like a human being in the slightest, but it was easy for him to make out the creature’s words, almost like he listening to a song with the lyrics replaced by another instrument. Tom could already see Wally making a joke about ‘how he heard of people with musical accents before, but this one takes the cake!’.

“I can understand and speak English fluently, Thomas Conner.” He stated coldly. “There’s no need to patronize me or waste both of our time with that book.”

How do you know my name? He wrote down, And how did you know Joey?

The sea demon paused for a bit, seeming as if he was trying to predict the wolf’s reaction to his answer before saying it out loud.

“The two of you are very... infamous down there...” He folded his arms behind his back and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “For more reasons than you think.”

Why did Buddy summon you?

The demon frowned at the question. “Who’s ‘Buddy’?” He then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, the reasons why my former summoners have called me are not to be freely discussed with other people. And before you ask how he knew to summon me, he learned from his own story.”

Tom tore out the question he had and wrote a new one:

What is your name?

“Forgive me, but I am not interested in any more small talk, and I doubt you summoned me just for the sake of friendly conversation. You called me here to help you with something, haven’t you?”

Tom huffed and reluctantly nodded. Yes; Can you make me human again?

“Can I remake you from ink and magic into a being of flesh and bone?” He tapped on his fangs and smiled in a way that made the mechanic wolf’s hackles rise. “Eventually, but yes.”

His ears perked up instantly, hastily, he started scribbling down his (hopefully) final question.

Well, what are you waiting for?!

“Materials, tools, and payment.” The demon shifted in the tub to make himself more comfortable, folding his arms behind his head as if he was reclining in a hammock, his hair fanning out behind him. “As you can see, I’m not exactly in the position to fetch the former two, and you should know that nothing comes without the latter.”

What do you need?

“Just your standard sculpting tools, some time to work on the thing, your cooperation as working with living canvases other than myself can be difficult, and...” The sea demon’s chilling toothy smile resurfaced. “...Meat.”

Tom hesitated, it took him a while to get the single word onto paper.

Meat?

“Not just any meat. Raw meat, meat that’s so freshly killed that the blood’s still warm. The amount can be debated if you were unsatisfied with your human body’s height and or its weight.” He waved off before smiling again. “And unless you want to become a sentient beast, it had better be human meat. You know the old saying, right? ‘You are what you eat’? Well, it can be rather literal.”

He looked like he was biting back laughter at Tom’s horrified expression.

“Don’t give me that look, fy pup blaidd, your hands are already stained with the blood of others, it makes no difference to the eyes of heaven and hell if you start staining your teeth as well.”

NO!

“No?” The mechanic was almost infuriated by how genuinely confused the demon sounded, as if he was surprised that he’d be disgusted by suggesting cannibalism, but luckily for him, he merely shrugged off Tom’s refusal. “Suit yourself then.”

He was just about to leave the bathroom before the siren spoke again.

“But it would be such a shame if there wasn’t anything at all I could help you out with, I hate it when my time is wasted. Tell me, would you like to speak again?”

He froze there, and looked back with an eyebrow raised.

“I see that got your attention.” The merman smugly remarked. “And as it’s a much smaller job than say, completely rebuilding you as a different being altogether, it will not only be a faster job but also cost you a lot less. Why, I won’t even need any materials or tools other than your cooperation!”

I’m interested...

“Good! Now, all you need to do is come closer.”

He approached the bathtub.

“Closer... Yes, just kneel down so we’re directly face to face...” The siren crooned while looking as welcoming as an empty grave. “...This will only hurt like Hell for a little bit.”

Tom instantly regretted his action, the siren lunged at him, his arms wrapping around him and holding his own down. With his teeth and tongue, the sea demon pried the wolf’s mouth open and purged a fluid that felt like boiling oil down his throat.

With newfound vigor forged from the sheer disgust of the situation, he pried the creature off of him and flung him at the bathroom wall, coughing and sputtering out the vile fluid before confronting the sea beast who crawled back into the bathtub.

“WHAWT THE FUCK IWS YOUW PWOBWEM?”

He slapped his hands over his snout in sheer shock and embarrassment.

“...Pardon?” The sea monster was very obviously trying very hard not to laugh, and failing. “I didn’t quite get that, Tommy~.”

Tom’s cheeks were flushed gray, his fists were clenched and steam was coming out of his ears, he didn’t want to speak ever again! His new voice sounded nothing like his old one! It sounded more like a kid’s voice if the kid inhaled helium! And don’t get him started on the new speech pattern he was cursed with. He’d use the notebook, but sadly, it looked like it was destroyed by water in the struggle.

“Why did uwu duwu thiws tuwu me uwu bastawd?”

“This was unintentional, truly. But this is so much better than what I had planned!” The demon ignored the wolf’s growling as he pinched his cheek. “Awen't uwu juwst the cutest wittwe whewp!”

“Knock iwt off, uwu sea whowe!” He swatted the hand off of his face. “I wawnt my voice tuwu be nowmaw!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want now, do we?”

“But, but uwu pwomised uwu'd get me my voice bawck!”

“Now that’s just a bold-faced lie. I said I’d help you speak again, I never once said that I’d give you your old voice.”

“Okay, wisten hewe.” He reached into the bathtub and grabbed a hold of the tub stopper. “If uwu change my voice bawck, i... I'ww give uwu whatevew uwu wawnt. But if uwu down't, i'ww puww the pwug wight hewe awnd now!”

“Do it, coward.” The demon looked the wolf dead in the eyes. “I dare you.”

He didn’t even react when Tom yanked the stopper out and put it in the sink, well out of the siren’s reach.

“At least now you’re a man of your word.” The merman sighed as the water slowly drained from the tub. “Better late than never I suppose.”

He laid down in the still draining tub. At first, Tom thought this was an attempt to keep his gills wet for just a little bit longer, but then he saw the water turn black as it went down the drain and the musician said his last words to the wolf, not in a voice made out of instruments, but his own, human voice.

“See you again soon, Conner.”

“SAMMY WAWWENCE?!”

He called out in shock as he frantically reached into the now quickly draining tub. But no matter how desperately he dug his claws in there, he found nothing but water.

The remaining liquid went down the drain, leaving nothing but a few clear puddles on the tub’s floor and the now-verbal wolf alone with his thoughts.

“Oh my fucking god... Whawt am i going tuwu teww Awwison awnd Henwy?!”