#me pumping my fist in the air during the flare scene: 'THAT'S HIM! THAT'S *MY* BATMAN!'

[fantastic-nonsense]

so my general almost non-spoilerish review for The Batman:

best depiction of Batman we've ever gotten on screen; he actually acted like a real detective and had a fantastic character arc. Some of the fight scenes were a bit awkward, but that was also clearly a purposeful choice made to highlight the fact that this is Year Two Batman, who's still figuring things out

It was extremely clear which comics Reeves took inspiration from. The movie is very clearly a love letter to Batman, the fans, and the comics people have spent decades reading, and you can tell. If anyone's interested, the most obvious inspirations were Year One, Long Halloween, Ego, and Zero Year, with some elements from Batman: Earth One thrown in as well.

I personally thought the core themes were woven through the main plotline well. There were a couple of instances of clunky dialogue, but overall, it was fairly effective at getting across the points it wanted to

Bruce's opening/closing narrations were A+

the opening scene (y'all know the one) was excessively long. That shit could have been effectively told in 2 minutes tops and it went on for 5-6. There were a couple of other scenes that felt like they needed editing down too, but that was the most obvious one

Generally, I wish Pattinson had emoted a bit more (both as Bruce and as Batman). He had some fantastic moments, but I just wanted more from him. I understand that it was a deliberate acting choice that he didn't and I understand why Reeves and Rob made that character choice, but there were several points throughout the movie (particularly during his talk with Falcone and a few of his scenes with Selina) where I was just like "come on Rob...give me something here!"

Submit the hospital and Arkham interrogation scenes to the Oscars for Pattinson's Best Actor nom. That's all.

Reeves made some interesting choices for Selina and I actually really liked most of them. I enjoyed how she was clearly the pathos and conscience of the movie, which we rarely get outside of Selina-focused comics

This is the funniest depiction of Bruce and Gordon's relationship we've ever gotten, and I'm actually obsessed with it

I'm ultimately still not happy with the Riddler. He was effective. He was smart. He had his riddles and his question marks and his obsession with Batman. Like Pattinson's emotions, I understand why Reeves did what he did. Dano's particular interpretation of Eddie just didn't work for me.

I can't believe some critics are calling this movie humorless. I was stifling laughs every time Penguin was on-screen, and there were some just Grade A-level puns baked into the script. I guess maybe they didn't like that it was tasteful, smart humor and wasn't just quippy one-liners every 5 minutes?

the soundtrack: A++++. Batman's theme was appropriately forbidding and it feels like you're watching a Big Cat stalking his prey every time it plays

if this movie doesn't scream "Harvey Dent will co-star in Batman 2" I simply don't know what movie you watched, but it wasn't the same one I did. Whether he'll appear as Two-Face or not idk, but Batman 1 was literally the perfect set up for Harvey's appearance and that's WAY more than I expected to get

Finally, fuck the critics who were like 'the third act is weak.' No, the third act was NOT weak, that was peak Batman cinema you cowards. The flare scene, my beloved...................

Basically, I have some issues with it, but overall, an absolutely solid movie. Absolutely thrilled to see where Reeves goes with Batman 2.

Also...get this absolute disaster of a man a Robin!!! If there's ever been a live-action Batman who desperately needs a Robin, it's DEFINITELY Battinson.

[revrevrew-writblr]

Villain’s Daughter

Couple Things: Amalia’s weakness is touching metal, but enchanted metal acts differently, because once it takes on characteristics of magic it can no longer deter magic. 

Content Warning: Blood, mentions of murder, a fight scene. 

The ricochet of the gun pumped to the beat of her pop music. Amalia didn’t bother with aiming the gun to the center of the target, that wasn’t the purpose of this training. She altered the path of the bullets the second they left the chamber, they hit the chest on the black outline of the man, almost every time. 

Without using her magic, she was a terrible shot. Her father called her cheating ways a ‘horrendous life ending habit.’ 

Would have thought he would be more supportive of my choices, especially considering he does it too. 

While her father had almost the same gifts as her, he lacked a great deal of creativity. He wasn’t wrong about this habit potentially leaving her open to weakness though. The very thing she had control of, had control over her. When she touched the metal of the gun it cut her off from her powers. 

Her dad was right when he said, “you’re not always going to have gloves close by.” 

But she was also right when she shot back, “Then I’ll just hold the gun up with my powers.” 

She didn’t today though, that would be a waste of magic on a perfectly good day. 

Lost in thought she stopped counting the bullets. The gun clicked empty. Amalia’s arm swung down, prepared for a kick back that never came. Her fingers jammed against the small table.

“Ow, Dang it!”

She felt the magic slip out of her before she could stop it. The butt of the gun melted, and with a burning heat it pooled over her gloved hand. She solidified the mess of metal, grasping her arm and biting her lip at burns now forming. Tears leaked out as the healing magic embedded in her arm worked at the skin, the magic left it tingling in a nauseating way.

Taking off her glove, she flexed her hand inspecting her skin, and observing how the enchanted metal that acted as bones underneath colored parts of her hand in gray.

Just great. Now I’ll get an hour lecture from dad as he teaches me how to return the gun to its original shape. Fabulous.  

She slipped the sound resistant headphones off, to rest around her neck. She pulled her mane of curly hair out from under the headphones, wincing as her fingers got caught in a tangle. With some reluctance, she put the glove back on, the melted gun clinging to the fabric, and made her way to her father. 

She pulled open the door to her dad’s office. She let it swing shut behind her. “Hey Da-” 

The door across the office slammed open. Spandex and bright colors assaulted her eyes. Instinct kicked in. Bad instincts. She lifted the gun, putting pressure on her trigger finger, the melted metal didn’t give the familiar click.

Bang.

She felt the metal approaching her before she realized the bullet didn’t come from her gun.

Oh, crap.

For the second time that day, her magic got away from her. It radiated from her chest, all the metal around her melting and evaporating into the air. The concentrated bubble of the evaporated bullet hit her square in the chest. 

She stumbled backwards, it felt like a punch to her chest. She threw her hand up to cover the bruising area, gasping for air that refused to reach her lungs.

Slide down the door and act like your dying. 

Her back hit the door with a thud, and she slid down slowly, still gasping for air. 

“You…” She cocked her head to the side, scrunching her face as she slid down the door. “You shot me?” 

Captain Flight, or as dad calls him, Tweety Bird, stared at her with a brief moment of shock. He approached her slowly. The feathers at the top of his wings flared up, reminding her very much of the way the hair on the back of a dog stood up when threatened.

“Amalia?” The masked hero’s voice sounded confused, he sounded familiar.

Amalia pretended to be spasming, pulling one leg up to her chest and stretched the other in front of her. She gasped loudly, nails digging into her chest. Tweety Bird was almost close enough… 

Now!

In a quick movement she snapped her bent leg out, pushing her foot into Tweety Birds knee. His eyes widened as he fell, his leg bending backwards. He screamed. His hands gripped right above his knee. His large white wings fanned out on the ground. 

His partner hero, Bombs Away, whipped towards the sound. He reacted quickly, throwing a small device her way. It had metal in it. His mistake. She pushed it back towards his hand. It exploded. His hand and forearm turned into red mist. Horrified, Amalia turned to the last Hero not screaming on the ground. Amp. 

Almost a completely useless Hero.

Amp rushed her. He brandished no metal weapon. Quickly thinking Amalia ‘tugged’ magically at Tweety’s gun, it whipped into her hand while forming into a baton. She shoved off the floor. His fist flew towards her face. She dogged it, whipping her baton into his arm as hard as she could. His arm cracked. She beat the baton into the back of his knee, bringing him toppling down. She slammed her baton into the back of his neck, knocking him out.

Hearing a shuffle behind her she turned, Inviso-man stood behind her. The butt of his gun slammed into her forehead before she could react. 

Her world went black.

~~~

She woke up with a pounding headache. Her arms made jangling sounds above her head. Her hands flopped uselessly. She couldn’t feel them. She was half hanging from cuffs attached to a metal railing, half lying on the floor. Her body shook as she engaged her biceps to lift herself into a proper sitting position. Her side screamed at her, having been stretched awkwardly for too long. Relief flooded her as she stopped moving. 

It was short lived.

“I’m trapped in a van. With a dying body- person. Not cool - not cool - so not cool.” The van was devoid of anything more than four superheroes passed out on the floor. Bones bent at sickening angles turned her stomach. Bombs Away was bleeding out from their arm. 

Panic clawed at her, I never wanted to be their enemy! She stared at them in shock, eyes watering. She began pulling at the cuffs with desperation. With a cry of pain, her right arm, made of metal bones, ripped out of its cuff, skin bruising and tearing while her metal bones stood strong. 

Tears streamed down her face as she ripped the next cuff off with her fingers. Blood dripped down her hand, the enchanted metal visible, her skin beginning to kit together. She stared at it far too long, her breath coming faster and faster. She struggled to regain a hold of herself, but as her morbid curiosity overtook her, she looked at the heroes she had taken down. 

Her stomach threatened to come up. 

Her mind screamed at her to leave; to get away before reinforcements showed up. She shut her eyes against the awful scene, but her instincts made her open them again. Her father’s words returning to her, never take your eyes off the enemy. 

Are they really my enemy? “I never wanted this.” she whispered, her head shaking no, a bloody hand over her mouth. Unable to look any more, despite her father’s teaching, she slammed her eyes shut and forced her legs to push her up. She slowly made her way to the door, opening her eyes only when her back was fully turned to the heroes. As her hand grasped the door handle when a small moan came from behind her. 

She turned to Bombs Away, bleeding out onto the floor, if she left now, he would bleed out and die. She will have killed him. 

What should I do?? Father would tell me to run. Her hand gripped the handle harder. I don’t want to be a murder though; I don’t want to be my dad!

But the amount of power it would take to heal him would leave me… vulnerable. How would a group of four heroes treat a Villain's daughter?

Amelia knew how desperate heroes could get to stop Villain, how far they were willing to go to claim every advantage. But these heroes had been in the area a while, and in fascination she had studied them. She didn’t think they would physically hurt her- in a more controlled situation -and Tweety bird seemed to know her. 

Do I save them? Or do I run? They already have my fingerprints from the car - I’d likely have to face them at some point. Indecision squeezed at her gut until finally, she remembered something her science professor said every day at the end of class, ‘Helping others is the way we help ourselves.’ It was stupidly cheesy, but who will protect the city against people like her dad if Bombs Away dies and Tweety has a lame leg? Certainly not Amp. 

Slowly, she pried her fingers off the handle, and keeping her eyes down to avoid anything other than the task at hand, she kneeled next to Bombs Away’s injury. The puddle of blood around her rippled with her movements. She tried not to think as she took in the injuries she had caused. 

Leaning over his body she placed her left hand on his other arm, scanning the dimensions of his bones. Then, ripping out a chunk of metal out of the van’s bed with her mind, she formed the metal into a flipped replica of his bones. Sweat beaded on her brow as she worked on replicating the delicate bones of his hands. 

Her left hand hovered over the metal, providing a visual aid to help her mind direct the magic. She was so used to doing this one handed, it was strange to attempt this feat on another human being. She tried to block out thoughts of the tragic accident that left her with a now dead Hero’s healing magic and an artificial arm. Her right arm hung limply at her side. She swayed a little when she finally set her replica down. 

With shaking, blood stained, fingers, she pulled her faux-leather belt off. She opened the hero’s mouth and placed the leather in between his teeth. She didn’t want him cracking his teeth or biting his tongue off if he woke up during the procedure. 

She pulled up another piece of metal this time shaping it into a small thin disc. She scanned the half arm, locating the best place to saw, right at the elbow. She needed the bones to be wholly metal or wholly bone, anything half bone, half metal would snap too easily. 

She spun the metal, bringing it down to the soft inner arm of his elbow. 

Wait. I’m smarter than this. 

Though she stopped spinning the floating metal, the room still spun as she searched for a tourniquet. There! Inviso-man, who never seemed to be invisible, was wearing a belt. She twisted around and feeling like a creep for she unhooked his belt and pulled it off him. 

She turned around and made a tourniquet above Bombs Away’s elbow and brought the still floating metal to his elbow. She willed it to spin. Half-way through, his eyes flipped open, wide with pain. Panicked she stopped sawing, leaving the metal half embedded into his arms. He gave her a look of such rage, she wondered if this was a good idea after all. He tried to sit up but forgetting his missing arm he slammed back down.

Crap, crap, crap!!! I should have pinned him down with metal. 

Her brain was almost too exhausted to think. 

Moving as quickly as she could, she slapped her hand to his forehead, willing a tiny bit of healing magic to put him to sleep. He shot her another look that promised revenge before he slipped into unconscious. Beginning her work again she levitated the metal bone structure to line up properly, checking his other arm again to be sure. 

She willed binding tendons to attach the metal bones to his actual bones. She willed his flesh to grow over the metal bones. She stopped before she made him fingertips. This was the hard part; the part that would leave her sick for days. 

She pressed her own fingertips into his metal ones and pushed some of her metal magic into the metal. She cried out as she felt the pain of magic leaving her, enchanting objects was so rarely done because it was most often lethal. The healing power, that truly didn’t belong to her, would preserve her from dying from the sickness. Probably.  

At some point in the process, she must have passed out, because she awoke passed out on Bomb’s Away. Grateful everyone else was still unconscious, she finished healing him. She didn’t have enough in her to grow his fingernails, but those would grow on their own later.

She removed the tourniquet from his arm and the belt from his mouth. She turned from him, wavering back and forth. Her eyes met Amp’s. 

He was staring intently at her, he had only an eye mask covering his face. It was a chiseled, handsome face. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, his nostrils flared, but his mouth was contorted with confusion. He shifted, moaning in pain. He crawled over to her, she sat motionless, fear twisting in her gut. If she moved now, she was going to lose her gut. 

He grasped her arm, a strange feeling trickled in under her skin. It grew swiftly, magic. Amp’s name suddenly made sense to her. He amplified people’s magic; he could give his reserves of magic to other people to allow them to go on for longer. He was doing so now. Her eyes widened in shock. 

Maybe not so useless after all. 

“Heal.” He commanded. 

She nodded, the dizziness fading a little, “This is going to hurt, a lot.” He nodded. She picked up the leather belt and pressed it into his mouth. He bit down. She grabbed his arm, the one she had broken. Her gut twisted, as with a sickening crunch she reset it. 

He fell towards her, screaming, she gritted her teeth, willing herself not to topple backwards. She shoved her, his, healing magic into his arm. The arm settled into place, bone which had chipped off under his skin sliced through flesh to return to its original position. Bone mended; flesh re-grew; it was done. 

With a final burst of power to her, Amp passed out. One last goal before she could follow suit. Tweety’s Knee.

She took the leather belt from Amp’s mouth and crawled on all fours to Tweety. For the final time, she shoved the belt into Tweety’s mouth. 

She had a harder time resetting his knee, his leg was heavy and difficult to move, she fell forward a couple of times before successfully snapping the leg back in place. A couple snaps of bone later, she had it prepped and ready for healing. She poured the last of the magic Amp had given her into Tweety’s knee. 

She leaned back, against the side of the van before she passed out.

[wheresmynaya]

Cupcake Battles Ch.2 | Brittana

Thinking about you all today and I hope you’re doing alright. <3

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

We’re back in the Cupcake Battles’ arena and the remaining three teams stand at the ready in their stations as Sam Evans strolls in through the glass double-doors to the show’s action-packed theme music. He struts down the aisle as if it’s his own personal catwalk, smoothing his hands along his shaggy blonde hair before shooting Mercedes and Artie with his finger-guns.

They look to each other confused and unamused while Sam then finishes his entrance with a twirl that leads into a not-so-smooth body roll. Despite that though he doesn’t give up and proceeds to hump the air, missing every single beat while he does so.

\\

“Gross,” Santana scrunches her nose and tries to avert her eyes before she goes blind. Instead she catches Brittany staring at her, attempting to keep from laughing at Santana’s obvious disgust. She feels the blood start to rush to her face upon being caught but then Kurt’s whispering to her.

“And to think he was on Grooving with the Celebs,” Kurt admonishes quietly, “I think even I might dance better than him.”

Santana’s eyes drift from Brittany to find Sugar egging Sam on as she pumps her fist. She can’t decide if Sugar is genuinely into this method of torture or she’s just messing with him. Either way, Santana reluctantly looks away to acknowledge Kurt’s comment.

“I wouldn’t say all that,” Santana quips and Kurt sucks his teeth at her, “What? I’ve seen you dance after you’ve had two Shirley Temples. It ain’t cute.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “First of all, I’m always cute.”

“Yeah,” Santana sputters out behind a laugh, “Sure.”

“Secondly, you think you’re a better dancer?” Kurt questions with a smirk, “All you’re missing is a stripper pole.”

“At least I’d get paid to dance,” Santana shrugs, “You’d probably get paid to stop.”

\\

When the music cuts, Sam straightens his suit jacket and points to the camera, “Welcome back, Viewers! Who’s ready for Round 2 of today’s Cupcake Battle?”

The camera alternates between capturing the teams’ reactions and all the teams clap and cheer with excitement upon finally getting to the challenge after the interruption that took place just before the cameras started to roll again.

It was then that everyone learned that Rachel Berry is not one to go gentle into that good night.

\\

The uncharacteristically long break between rounds was due to Rachel rushing around the arena, trying to evade being escorted off the premises.

Rachel had broken through the doors and went around knocking over as many baking pan racks as she could all while belting out Hannah Montana’s Nobody’s Perfect in between giving Santana death glares.

Who knew someone so small could cause such a big scene?

The crew had scrambled to keep Rachel from coming at Santana, but the co-judge wasn’t having it.

“Nah, let her through!” Santana called from over a crew member’s shoulder. She tapped her chest with her hands and shot her arms out, “Try me, I light up! Come on!”

“Oh my God…” Kurt facepalmed, “How is this show not cancelled yet?”

The teams were a little afraid but the drama was so addicting, they couldn’t stop watching.

Thankfully, the crew was able to wrangle Rachel to the ground before she caused anymore damage. She struggled like hell to break through until Finn came over to talk some sense into her. It seemed to work and she calmed down enough that the crew felt it was safe to let her up slowly.

Finn gave her a dopy smile before throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of full of broken dreams.

“Sorry about that,” He said to everyone then gave her butt a pat, “She’s super passionate.”

As Finn carried her out, Rachel made her exit by singing ABBA’s I Have a Dream.

It was quite the spectacle, but once she was safely removed the crew quickly reset the arena so that they could get back to filming.

\\

The camera pans back to Sam, “Well, this round is sure to quench that thirst!”

“Did he really just…,” Santana mumbles aloud looking as unimpressed as ever, “Who comes up with this crap?”

Kurt lifts his shoulder, “I thought it was quite…punny.”

Santana gives him a look and says plainly, “I’m quitting.”

“No you’re not,” Kurt chuckles and pokes at Santana’s side, “You love me too much.”

“No one said anything about love,” Santana groans, batting away his hands.

Kurt tutted, “Last premiere party, you said it in front of everyone so I have witnesses.”

“I said I appreciate your fabulousness. That’s all.”  

Kurt just gives his co-judge an eye roll before they both turn to Sam as he approaches the panel.

“Cheerleading is thirsty work, isn’t that right Coach?” Sam asks, trying to be conversational as he looks to Coach Sue Sylvester. He gives her a dorky grin but she just ignores him and continues to stare down the camera like the cameraman is attempting to infiltrate her mind.

Sam waits for a reaction before ultimately giving up. He looks to the audience, “Well, I’m sure it is! For our first round, we focused on good eats and now we’re focusing on good drinks. Round 2 is all about Day Drinking!”

“Finally something I can get behind,” Santana smirks.

Kurt tilts his head, “I don’t think that’s what it means. At least, I hope not? This is meant to be a family show…”

“The challenge for this round will be to create three cupcakes that are each based on a drink that gets you through the day. Hence, day drinking!” Sam explains carefully.

Santana frowns at the clarification, “Boo..”

Kurt nudges her side, “Shh.”

Sam goes on with explaining, “So we’re looking for cupcakes that are inspired by a drink that gets you up in the morning, a drink pushes you through those afternoon blues, and a drink to end the night with.”

\\

The camera pans to Team Batter Up Cupcakes where Brittany and Sugar exchange excited smiles as they bounce on their toes. They’re buzzing with anticipation and Brittany’s already running through various ideas at a mile a minute, her creative side ready to run wild.

Team Baking Dreams Come True looks equally thrilled with the new challenge and stares down their biggest competitors across from them. Blaine and Tina try their best to intimidate Brittany and Sugar – keyword try – but Team Batter Up Cupcakes don’t look the least bit concerned.

Team AJs Bake Shop on the other hand look slightly worried as Mercedes and Artie start to brainstorm. With the rivalry going on between the other two teams and the dramatics that came from Rachel and Finn’s kitchen during the first round, Team AJs Bake Shop has flown under the radar for the most part.

But aside from the cupcake Brittany and Sugar put up, Mercedes and Artie were the only other team that came close to a high level of praise. By high, we’re talking about Santana labeling it as tasting just fine which isn’t really that high of a critique when compared to the words said to Team Batter Up Cupcakes.

Brittany and Sugar aren’t new to this whole competition thing and although Mercedes and Artie think they’re being slick with the whole silent but deadly act, nothing gets past them. Old rivals or new ones, they’re gonna take down anyone who stands in there way of that prize money!

\\

“But wait, bakers, there is…a twist,” Sam interrupts the teams as the surrounding walls illuminated in the usual pink neon lights shift to green, followed by a dramatic sound effect.

The camera zooms in on the far wall that begins to move. A special pantry slides forward from a hidden segment in the paneling. The shelves are stocked with various cans and bottles.

“Is that?” Sugar squints at the cabinet trying to distinguish the labels. Once she realizes, she looks to Brittany and asks, “What day is it again?”

“Turn Up Tuesday,” Brittany responds with a devilish grin then it falls as she turns to Sugar, “Or maybe it’s Thirsty Thursday? I don’t really keep track of the days anymore.”

They both giggle at each other with these great big grins while Sam continues.

“As a curveball ingredient, each team is required to use an item from this pantry in their creation!” Sam announces as he windmills his arm to point to the cabinet next to him. The camera pans along the items there as he continues to explain, “There are a variety of popular sodas as well as spirits that you can choose from, but at least one of these items must be included in your final product.”

\\

“Aren’t the bakers meant to provide for a cheerleading benefit at the end of this?” Kurt whispers to Santana, “Isn’t it a bit…inappropriate to include alcohol around minors?”

Santana ponders it before deciding she doesn’t actually get paid enough to care about how ethical these challenges are, she’s just here to serve looks and dish out realness. But she can tell Kurt is a little conflicted about this so she throws him a bone.

“Listen Miss Priss, no one is going to get buzzed off of a boozy cupcake except for maybe you.”

Kurt gasps and begins to stammer out a reply, but Santana cuts him off.

“Besides, I doubt they’re unfamiliar to the taste of it because: number one, they’re high school seniors and I’m sure they’ve already turned to alcohol at least once. Number two, they have to deal with grandma down there as their coach.”

“Watch it, you knock-off J.Lo.” Sue quips without even glancing in Santana’s direction.

“Knock-off? I’ll show you knoc – “

“Sit down, Santana!” Kurt urges and tries to force her back, “You can’t try to fight another guest judge, remember what happened last time?”

Santana’s quick to bite her tongue, the producers don’t necessarily like when she roughs up a guest judge but this lady is pushing it. She cuts her with one last glare before taking a settling breath and looking back to the remaining teams.

\\

“Man your stations, bakers, and let the battle begin!” Sam pulls the pocket square from his chest and waves it like a flag girl yet again with such a flamboyant flare that even Kurt questions how straight he really is.

Brittany rushes to pull out the sketch pad beneath the counter and starts to scribble out a design she had been working on ever since the pantry rolled out.

“Alright so this is what I’m thinking…Dr Pepper, Piña Colada, and that spicy Mexican hot chocolate we like.”

“In that order?” Sugar asks as she watches Brittany craft the designs with such focus.

Brittany nods resolutely without looking up from the sketchpad, “Yup, in that order.”

Sugar glances over at the pantry to find Dr Pepper and Malibu then turns back to Brittany and asks, “You want to use more than one ingredient from the curveball pantry even though we don’t need to?”

“Yup,” Brittany says and pops the p for emphasis. She finally looks up at Sugar, “And I want you to create these cute fondant decorations for each. You saw what Tina did last round?”

“Yeah,” Sugar scoffs and shoots Tina a glare from across the aisle. Tina looks back questioningly at first then tries to match it with her own scowl.

“You’re going to show the judges how it’s really done,” Brittany smirks.

Sugar tears away from her staring match with Tina and begins to beam because her best friend is such a genius, “Hell yes, this is going to be so awesome!”

Brittany high fives Sugar, “Duh.”

\\

In Team AJs Bake Shop’s station, Mercedes and Artie work together to try and come up with their three drinks. Ultimately they decide on a mocha Frappuccino, an Earl Grey infused with lemon, and a tequila sunrise. They’re pretty confident with their choices and set off to begin making their cupcake batters while watching Team Baking Dreams Come True and Team Batter Up Cupcakes duke it out amongst themselves.

Mercedes and Artie figure that with such an intense rivalry, the other teams will be too busy bickering to notice them coming through for the win!

\\

Over in the Team Baking Dreams Come True kitchen, Blaine is working quickly to draft a design but finds that Tina keeps getting distracted.

“Come on T, focus!” Blaine urges when he catches her staring across the aisle again, “Just ignore them.”

“I can’t!” Tina cries as she continues to glare back at Sugar, “I can feel her beady eyes burning holes into me. She’s taunting me, Blaine, taunting me.”

Blaine sighs at his friend’s dramatics, “She’s just trying to get in your head, you know how they work. They always do this. Remember when they told us they replaced all the sugar in the test kitchen with salt but they didn’t actually do it and we wasted all that time recreating all of our batters because didn’t check beforehand? It’s just like that again, they’re all talk.”

Just then Sugar scribbles something on her sketchpad and shows off the message to Tina.

Still salty?

Tina gasps; it’s like Sugar is in her head and she quickly turns to Blaine. She grabs him by the shoulder and the sudden movement makes him jolt forward with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Quick! Taste the sugar!” Tina urges.

Blaine groans and pries Tina’s hand off of him, “We’ve been standing here the entire time, there’s no way they could’ve switched – “

“JUST DO IT!”

Blaine sighs and goes to sprinkle a bit of sugar into the palm of his hand before bringing it up to his mouth. Tina watches him like a hawk for a reaction.

Blaine’s facial expression goes from tired, to confused, to surprised.

“Salt?”

“Yeah,” Blaine grumbles and shoots Team Batter Up Cupcakes a glare.

Brittany and Sugar are doubled over as they laugh and laugh, it only makes Blaine and Tina even angrier.

“That’s it,” Blaine narrows his eyes, full of a new sense of determination, “Game on!”

\\

Santana watches the whole exchange between the rivals with a proud smirk. Switching out the sugar for salt is a classic practical joke, but even she has no idea how Brittany and Sugar pulled that off. It must’ve been when the crew was resetting after Rachel’s second outburst.

She glances over at the team but lingers a little longer on Brittany as she talks excitedly to Sugar. Deep down she knows she’s being a little unprofessional here, but there’s this aura about Brittany that Santana just can’t resist.

It also doesn’t help that the girl is super fine and talented as hell too!

“I’m really interested to see how Team AJs Bake Shop does this round,” Kurt says to Santana, “They’re kind of like the dark horse, the underdog, the sleeper, the– “

“Okay, I get it.”

Kurt glances at Santana to find her staring at the blonde yet again. He shakes his head, “You really need to work on your subtly.”

Santana looks to him and blinks, “What?”

“Your lesbian tendencies are showing,” Kurt says knowingly with a wag of his finger towards her.

Santana quirks her brow and looks down at her chest before adjusting her boobs, “Better?”

Kurt laughs at his co-judge’s ridiculousness, “Not what I meant, but sure.”

\\

“Alright judges,” Sam announces as they come to a stop in front of Brittany and Sugar’s station, “First stop, Team Batter Up Cupcakes! How are you ladies doing?”

“All good in the hood over here,” Brittany says coolly with a thumbs up. She’s leaning on a stand mixer while Sugar’s off to the side rolling out fondant.

Santana smiles politely at them both while her hands stay folded in front of her. She looks like a meek little mouse but at the same time ready to knock you down a peg if you think you’re flying too close to the sun. She totally nails the balance of looking adorable yet intimidating and she really is so, so attractive but Brittany can’t stop staring her boobs.

She tries her hardest, she really does but they’re right there staring at her! She can’t remember if it was like that when Santana came around in Round 1, then again she was too busy with being blinded by Santana’s gorgeous smile to notice anything else.

“You seem to be handling the pressure quite well,” Kurt acknowledges and his soft voice manages to break Brittany out of her boob-daze long enough to focus on him, “What are your drinks of choice for this round’s challenge?”

Brittany nods and looks down to taste the base frosting she has been working on before making an adjustment, “Well, my morning usually starts off with Dr Pepper so we’re pretty lucky that the drink is included in the pantry. For the aftern – “

“Wait,” Kurt pauses, “You start off your mornings with Dr Pepper?”

“How else are you meant to brush your teeth?” Brittany deadpans, “Or…do you not do that?”

Santana hides her laughter behind her hand while Sue stares at Brittany like she has two heads. Sam is looking somewhat convinced with Brittany’s logic though while Kurt gawks at her.

“Of course I brush my teeth,” Kurt scoffs then chooses to move on while Brittany starts on her next task, “And your choice for the afternoon?”

“Piña colada with Malibu from the pantry,” Brittany answers and Kurt is surprised yet again.

“For the afternoon?” Kurt clarifies and looks to Santana for some kind of back up. When she doesn’t give him anything, he turns back to Brittany, “I’m not following your decisions here. Can you explain?”

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere,” Brittany replies easily as she tosses the Mexican chocolate into the double-boiler, “Everyone loves Piña Coladas.”

“Getting caught in the rain!” Sugar sings from behind her.

Brittany wiggles her hips to the sound and smiles sweetly at Kurt, “You’d probably benefit from an afternoon Piña Colada. Although, I’m still not sure if the song is talking about an actual drink or if it’s a euphemism…”

“I – “ Kurt stammers and Santana takes that as her cue to cut in before he combusts.

“You’re using two ingredients from the pantry,” Santana points out as she takes a step closer to Brittany. There’s this glimmer in her eye and this sexy little smile, “That’s pretty bold of you.”

“All or nothing,” Brittany says confidently, “That’s my motto.”

“I like that,” Santana chuckles, “You both showed off a lot of skill in the first round, how long have you been baking?”

Brittany ponders that a moment while she whisks through the melting chocolate and calls over her shoulder, “Hey Sug! When did I transfer to the C.I.A?”

Sugar hums as she comes up beside Brittany to steal some food coloring, “A couple years ago?”

Brittany nods and looks to Santana, “For a couple years then.”

“What?” Kurt gasps, “How is that possible?”

Santana is equally surprised, “That’s really impressive, I spent nearly ten years in school before I opened my own place. Where did you transfer from? It must be just as prestigious with the amount of skill you already possess.”

“I mean, I guess?” Brittany says, “I transferred from MIT.”

“Holy sh – “ Santana is completely in awe, “I needz to hear this backstory.”

“We really should move on to the other teams,” Sam tries but Santana just waves him off.

“Shut it, Trouty!” Santana bites before looking back to Brittany, “Tell me more.”

Brittany shrugs although her stomach can’t stop flipping because Santana Lopez is interested in her backstory. Is she dreaming? She keeps her cool though and does as she’s told.

“Well, I was working on my second Masters when I got into a little argument with someone from the Department of Chemistry over the quality of a cake they brought in for a staff luncheon,” Brittany explains, “They said that they spent years perfecting the recipe and that it takes a certain kind of talent to bake. I said that it couldn’t be that hard and here I am.”  

“You are just…,” Santana pauses and tries to keep her smile from growing any wider, “You’re full of surprises.”

Brittany lifts her shoulder all nonchalant-like and she’s too busy being wrapped up in another compliment that Santana has given her that she doesn’t realize her chocolate is starting to bubble. She quickly turns the heat down before it burns, but not before a lone chocolate bubble bursts and splatters a couple droplets on Santana’s dress.

All the cool she possessed goes right out the window as her face turns beet red.

“Oh my God,” Brittany gasps and Sugar darts to look in her direction at the sound of such a distressed tone.

Santana looks down at the melted chocolate dotting her chest.

Kurt’s jaw drops and he subtly moves behind Sam in preparation for the absolute fit Santana is about to throw. He’s seen first hand how vicious she can be and he doubts even Brittany’s pretty face will help her this time.

“Oh my God,” Brittany repeats and grabs at a paper towel to wet before she’s absent mindedly dabbing at Santana’s chest, “I’m so sorry. I – I can pay for the dry cleaning bill or I can–“

Santana stills Brittany’s trembling hands.

Kurt thinks this is it, this is the day Santana finally gets her ass fired and waits for Santana to yeet the poor girl across the room, but something strange happens instead.

Santana smiles.

Kurt thinks she might’ve hit a new level of pissed that he’s yet to see during their many years of working together. He’s actually scared for Brittany, but there’s no way in Wal-Mart that he’ll try to intervene now. There are just some things even he won’t do.

Brittany gulps.

Sugar stands back to watch, popping tiny marshmallows into her mouth like popcorn.

“It’s fine, Brittany,” Santana says through her smile then slowly let’s Brittany’s hand fall to the counter, “Although you might want to keep a better eye on your chocolate next time.”

“Yeah sure,” Brittany nods in a daze. Honestly, she’ll agreeing to anything Santana says right now as long as she doesn’t tear into her like she did with Rachel earlier.

Santana looks down at the cutting board next to where Brittany’s hand rests now and recognizes the chocolate packaging, “Are you using Mexican chocolate?”

Brittany slowly blinks and looks down at the board and back up, “Uh… yeah. It’s for our drink to end the night with. We’re doing a Spicy Mexican hot chocolate.”

“Hmm,” Santana hums before swiping a piece of chocolate from the board, “You have quite the line up for us. Good luck to you both.”

“Thanks,” Brittany says before they all begin to walk away. She feels like she can finally breathe again and looks over her shoulder to Sugar and starts to mouth holy fuck did you see th –

“Oh and Brittany?” Santana calls out.

Brittany instantly swivels on her heels and stands at attention, “Yeah?”

“Keep an eye on your chocolate,” She smirks as she pops in the piece she stole earlier before turning away.

Brittany thinks she actually might be drooling right now because woah, but it doesn’t last long before Sugar is ruining her moment.

“Oh my God, Britt!” Sugar squeals as she starts slapping at Brittany’s shoulder, “There is no denying it now. I’m not even going to say it because you and I and all of America knows what I’m thinking.”

Brittany lets out a sigh and shakes her head, “I need a drink.”

“Shots!” Sugar cheers. She grabs the bottle of Malibu from her station and pours a bit into a measuring cup and hands it to Brittany while Sugar pours some into a ramekin. They both knock back the shot and Brittany sends Sugar a knowing look.

“I’m beginning to see what you’re talking about now…help.”

“Yes!” Sugar beams, “Don’t worry about a thing, I’m going to be the best wing-woman!”

“Let’s just win this thing first before you go all Love Connection on me,” Brittany chuckles, “I know how you like to spiral.”

Sugar throws up her hands in defense as she walks back to her side of the station, “I just call it like I see it, Brittz, and I called it from the very beginning.”

Brittany just keeps her head down and gets back to work, trying to keep thoughts of Santana to a minimum.  

\\

“I thought you were going to kill her,” Kurt whispers as they leave Team Batter Up Cupcakes behind, “I thought you were going to finally catch a case and kill that poor girl, not to mention her ruining your dress.”

“The girls did their job, what do you expect?” Santana replies easily, “Besides, it was an accident.”

Santana is guided off to the side so that her stylist can work her magic and remove the stains, or at least position her hair so that it’s a lot less noticeable. It’s only a couple dots so it’s really no big deal, but Kurt doesn’t seem to want to drop it.

“An accident? You know who else had an accident? Marley Rose. In her pants. Because you threatened her with a knife.”

“Calm down, it was an off-set spatula,” Santana corrects, “There’s no sharp edges there.”

“It was completely unnecessary,” Kurt admonishes.

“You know what else was unnecessary? Combining avocado and chocolate.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Santana. Don’t be dramatic.”

Santana rolls her eyes at him as her stylists does some finishing touches before Santana is given the okay to return to set. She gives Kurt a disgusted look, “Avocado has no place in this kitchen, damnit. I don’t care what kind of food trend band wagon rolls up in here. It’s a no for me.”

Kurt shakes his head in disbelief but returns to the previous topic as his tone dips lower, “She practically had her hand on your boob, Santana. Brittany, not Marley.”

“Yeah…and?”

“And you didn’t rip it from her body…”

Because I’m a lesbian and I’m into it, is what Santana wants to say but she doesn’t and honestly she doesn’t know what stops her. She’s always said what was on her mind, but now?

Santana glances over at the station they just left and catches Brittany with her head down in deep concentration. She smirks for a split second before turning a glare onto Kurt.

“I know what happened, Kurt, I was there. I don’t need you doing a play-by-play for me.”

Kurt looks at her quizzically, but the response seems to shut him up for the meantime. They go on to check in with the rest of the teams in silence.

\\

After they make their rounds, the judges return to the panel and wait out the last few minutes. Although thus far Santana hasn’t been able to keep her eyes from straying too far from Team Batter Up Cupcake’s kitchen, she along with the other panel judges are unable to look away from Team AJs Bake Shop.

The pressure is definitely on as the team scrambles to frost their cupcakes, but it doesn’t seem like there will be enough time for Mercedes and Artie to complete all three of them. You can start to see them beginning to lose focus as they keep checking the time, the seconds quickly disappearing until ultimately the buzzer sounds.

“Alright bakers, put down your utensils!” Sam calls out as he walks to the center of the arena, “This round is ovah.”

The camera pans to each kitchen, capturing the bakers’ relief – Sugar and Brittany hug it out while Blaine and Tina high five – but when it gets to Team AJs Bake Shop, Mercedes and Artie look completely defeated and devasted.

Only two out of the three cupcakes they planned have made it onto their plate.

“First up to the judging panel,” Sam says while doing his James Earl Jones impression again, “Brittany and Sugar from Team Batter Up Cupcakes! Let’s see what you’ve made.”

\\

Brittany and Sugar make the short walk over to the panel and hand out their cupcakes. They’re aesthetically on point with Brittany’s excellent piping and Sugar’s fondant work rounding out the whole presentation, but they hope that their eccentric ways don’t scare off the judges too much.

“Looks awesome,” Sam compliments with a wide smile, “Please explain to the judges what you’ve created.”

Brittany has been pretty cool-headed so far, but ever since the chocolate boob incident she’s been thrown a little off her game. She sucks in a breath to calm her nerves before speaking.

“Hi again, judges! To start your morning off right, we’ve made a Dr Pepper cupcake inspired by my awesome dentist Dr. Pepper who taught me that teeth-brushing isn’t only done at night.”

“Oh my God…it was her dentist. I feel so stupid,” Kurt sighs to himself.

Santana just chuckles, “As you should.”

“We used Dr Pepper from the curveball pantry in the chocolate cupcake batter as well as in the cherry buttercream frosting. Sugar made the topper out of fondant,” Brittany explained while the judges went in for their first taste.

Their expressions shifted to surprise at the sudden tingling sensations on their tongues.

“Oh! And we also garnished with popping candy to replicate the fizziness of the Dr Pepper,” Brittany supplies and watches nervously for a positive reaction.

Santana is the first to speak up this time, “Can I just say this is probably one of the best soda-inspired cupcakes I’ve ever had.”

Brittany’s brows shoot up to her hairline while Sugar lets out a squeal.

“It’s not just a chocolate cake with a splash of Dr Pepper, you can actually taste the soda in this and your use of the popping candy was again…sheer genius,” Santana adds, “Great job.”

Kurt reluctantly nods, “I love the frosting. It isn’t too sweet and this fondant work is spectacular, I’m just not sold on your choice to start the day off with this kind of beverage.”

“It was alright for me,” Sue shrugs nonchalantly, “Next!”

Santana and Kurt scowl at her but move on to the next cupcake anyway.

“So to get through the afternoon blues, Sugar and I went with a Piña Colada cupcake for obvious reasons,” Brittany begins to explain.

“Get litty!” Sugar whoops and knocks her first with Brittany’s.

“There’s pineapple juice and a little coconut cream in the cupcake batter and it’s topped with a coconut rum buttercream then garnished with some toasted coconut flakes as well as another awesome fondant piece by Sugar,” Brittany finishes while the judges taste their second cupcake, “We used Malibu from the curveball pantry in this recipe.”

“Wow, you can really taste the rum here,” Kurt comments but Brittany and Sugar can’t tell whether or not that’s a compliment.  

“Be careful you don’t get all white-girl wasted on me,” Santana teases while she tastes the frosting and lets it coat her tongue. She gives a satisfied smile, “That’s really good and I’m not even a big fan of Malibu. Might be just a touch too sweet for my tastes though. Malibu is so sugary as it is, you should’ve maybe cut back on adding any more sugar to your recipe.”

Brittany’s smile falters, “Understood.”

“I really like the fruity flavors of the cake here,” Kurt adds.

“You? Liking something fruity?” Santana’s brows rise, “I’m shocked.”

Kurt opts to ignore her and continues, “It’s just the right amount of pineapple and coconut, I feel like I’m on some tropical beach somewhere. And the addition of the toasted coconut flakes was a great touch, it adds a nice texture to your cupcake.”

“This one is better,” Sue agrees and at second glance they find that she has somehow devoured the entire cupcake, “Although, I don’t know how well it will go over with the parents if you’re chosen to cater for the Cheerios benefit. You would have to come up with something different. Next!”

Brittany and Sugar feel like they’ve been dealt another blow and think that maybe they should’ve been a little more tame this round. The judges’ responses are all so mixed, they don’t know where they stand.

They remain positive though as the judges move on to their final cupcake.

“To end the night, we have a Spicy Mexican Hot Chocolate cupcake with marshmallow frosting,” Brittany says as the judges start to taste, “There isn’t anything from the curveball pantry in this recipe, only the Mexican chocolate we found in the regular pantry.”

Kurt looks like he’s struggling with his watery eyes, “Is that…cayenne pepper?”

“It is,” Brittany nods resolutely, “Hence the spicy.”

“It’s really…” Kurt starts to cough but Sue is quick to slap his back which makes him yelp in pain.

“I’m into this,” Santana nods, barely batting an eye at Kurt’s reaction, “Once again, you’re showing off how well you balance out flavors and this marshmallow frosting... I’d eat it of off anything.”

Brittany gulps at the way the word rolls off Santana’s tongue. In an instant, Brittany’s mind  takes her there. She closes her eyes tightly, willing the thoughts away with all her might because now is not the time for them.

“No hot chocolate should have cayenne pepper in it,” Kurt replies once he’s able to speak again, “Like why? I didn’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re a basic bitch,” Santana eye-rolls but turns an encouraging smile onto Brittany and Sugar, “I liked this, it really took me back to my roots.”

“I’m a big fan of cayenne pepper,” Sue agrees, “Combine that with some lemon juice and sand and you’ve got yourself the perfect Sue Sylvester master cleanse.”

Santana gives Sue a look, “That can’t be healthy for you.”

Sue doesn’t answer though, just holds her head up high.

“Okay well, great job!” Sam commends, “Please return to your kitchen. The next team up: Blaine and Tina from Team Baking Dreams Come True.

\\

“I’m a little worried,” Sugar says once they return to their station. She takes another swig of rum straight from the bottle before passing it to Brittany, “Were we too much?”

Brittany shrugs and drinks from the bottle too, “If we did it any other way then we aren’t being true to ourselves and that’s the most important thing.”

“True,” Sugar nods, “I can’t get a read on them. Their feedback was everywhere.”

“We’ll just have to wait. We’ve always been the oddballs in every competition but we still bring home a win,” Brittany adds and looks to Sugar, “It won’t be any different this time.”

“Yeah! And Santana liked most of them and she’s usually the hardest one to please so that has to count for something,” Sugar wonders aloud, “Right?”

“One of the best soda-inspired cupcakes she’s ever hand,” Brittany reminds her, “We’ve got this, Sug.”

That seems to ease Sugar’s nerves and they stay huddled side by side like that, passing the bottle of rum back and forth between each other as the remaining teams are judged.

\\

“Here you go, Kurt!” Santana teases as Blaine and Tina present them with a pumpkin spice latte-inspired cupcake that they’ve chosen to start their day with. She cuts through the cream cheese frosting with her fork, “This is right up your basic bitch alley.”

“Shut up, Santana.” Kurt groans and rolls his eyes before tasting the creation. He doesn’t want to admit it aloud and land himself right at the butt of Santana’s joke, but the cupcake is delicious.

Judging by Santana’s facial expressions she thinks so too.

“I see you’ve taken my advice from Round 1 and stepped your game up,” Santana says to Blaine in a tone that drips with condescension, “There’s actually some flavor in here this time…even if you went with something so mainstream like a PSL. You did well, yay.”

It was the most unenthusiastic, off-handed yay Blaine and Tina has ever heard and they aren’t sure whether they should thank her for the compliment or be offended. Instead they just nod and wait for Kurt’s critique.

“Finally something I’m familiar with,” Kurt sighs through his pleased smile, “This is my favorite one so far. It’s like biting into Autumn. All of your flavors are spot on and this cream cheese frosting complements it so perfectly.”

Blaine and Tina share a surprised look that makes Brittany and Sugar want to gag. Sugar rolls her eyes so hard they almost stick while Brittany just wants to push one of them, most likely Tina since she’s the closest. Those two are the biggest suck-ups ever and they only confirm it as they thank the judges for their wonderful feedback and move on to the next cupcake.

Surprisingly, Sue smiles.

It’s kind of creepy, but it happens all because of their Matcha-inspired cupcake which represents their midday beverage.

“I hate cupcakes, but this one might change my mind,” Sues says after taking a bite.

Kurt tilts his head in confusion while Santana shoots Sue a look of disbelief.

“Wait so you hate cupcakes yet you’re on a show based on cupcakes?” Kurt questions, “How does that work?”

“Talk to my lawyer,” Sue answers shortly.

Kurt is taken aback and looks to Santana, “What?”

“I don’t know,” Santana shakes her head dismissively and gets back to judging the cupcake, “Once again, you’ve chosen another mainstream trend. Maybe if I was on My Weird Cravings and liked the taste of grass mixed with frosting and topped with dusting of seaweed, I wouldn’t mind this.”

Blaine and Tina cringe upon hearing Santana’s remarks.

\\

Brittany and Sugar both bust out laughing and it’s so loud that the camera pans to them.

“You made…a cupcake…for a goat!” Brittany giggles between words. She’s close to tears and Sugar’s going red in the face.

“Way to go, losers!” Sugar adds as she tries to catch her breath.

\\

“I – I’m so sorry, we-“ Blaine began but Santana just held up here hand to stop him.

“Don’t apologize. If you’re going to bake something and present it to me, you better be pretty damn proud of it to the point where even if you don’t get the response you’re after you still think it’s the best thing you’ve ever made,” Santana tells him sternly, “Confidence is important in this industry. Grow a backbone and own it.”

Blaine just gulps and steps back in line with Tina as the judge’s move on to their final cupcake.

Again for Santana, it tastes somewhat above average and their high skill level is evident and they do all the right things but there’s no risk taken.

She’s bored, they’re boring.

On the other hand, Kurt and even Sue are blown away by everything they’ve put forth so Santana is out numbered this time around.

Blaine and Tina look relieved when Sam dismisses them back to their station and they hold their heads high as they pass Brittany and Sugar. They don’t say a word, just give their best attempt at a cocky grin before crossing the aisle to their kitchen.

\\

The final team Sam calls up arrives to the judges’ panel wielding only two of their three cupcakes.

“What’s going on here?” Santana asks as she looks down at her plate.

“Our final cupcake didn’t cook through completely…” Artie replies guiltily.

“Time management not a strong point for you, huh?” Santana comments the nods to the first cupcake, “Tell us what you’ve made then.”

Mercedes takes over for Artie and goes on to explain the first cupcake, the coffee inspired cupcake to represent the start of their day. Presentation-wise, it’s on point and when it comes to taste, they kill it!

Santana is actually surprised by how much she likes it, “The espresso is really pronounced here which is something bakers fall short on a lot, but you nailed this. Coffee and chocolate is kind of a weakness for me so I’m glad that this doesn’t taste horrible.”

“I agree,” Kurt adds, “This is a very good take on what you were aiming for. Great job.”

Their second cupcake receives similar praise; great flavor, beautiful presentation and fits with the theme.

Brittany would be a little worried if they hadn’t only come up with two cupcakes.

“So which one of these cupcakes contains an ingredient from the curveball pantry?” Kurt asks once they finish tasting.

“Well,” Artie starts nervously, “It was in our final cupcake which would’ve been our take on a tequila sunrise. It contained tequila.”

“Obviously,” Santana quips then she starts to frown, “It’s really disappointing that you weren’t able to finish on time. You could’ve had this challenge in the bag.”

Brittany and Sugar share a look upon hearing those words; were they just saved by another team’s missteps?

\\

“Okay bakers, only two teams will be moving on to the final round. Do you think you’ve made the cut?” Sam asks as he stands next to the judge’s panel, “This round was a little bit of a challenge for most of you but…Blaine and Tina…you’ve made it to Round 3!”

“Oh my God!” Tina squeals as she jumps into Blaine’s arms.

“We made it!” Blaine cheers and they bounce around their kitchen. It’s like every step they take is a jab at Brittany and Sugar.

This can’t happen, they can’t lose to them. Brittany crosses her fingers and her toes as she shuts her eyes tight and begins to wish and hope that Sam calls out their name next.

“The final team that will move on to Round 3…will be…Brittany and Sugar!” Sam announces and the lights dim over Mercedes and Artie, “Sorry Team AJs Bake Shop, your fight is over.”

Brittany lets out a sigh of relief and pulls Sugar in for a hug, “That was too close.”

“The judges agreed that you put up some tasty cupcakes,” Sam goes on to explain to Mercedes and Artie, “But the fact that you didn’t provide three cupcakes was unfortunately a critical blow in your case.”

“Oh hell to the no,” Mercedes snaps and points over to Brittany and Sugar, “They made only one cupcake in Round 1 while everyone else made two and they won the round! So we do the same and now we’re getting cut? How is this fair? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is with everyone testing our decisions today?” Kurt grumbles.

Mercedes is still going, “All of our cupcakes fit the theme, meanwhile Brittany and Sugar just picked random-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Santana stands up.

Brittany looks from Mercedes to Santana and prepares for the worst. She’s got that look in her eyes again, similar to when she smacked Rachel down like the hand of God. There’s this determination mixed with pure fury and Brittany knows she shouldn’t be thinking about how good she looks up there, but it’s impossible not to.

“Britt and Sugar put their personality into their work which is something I have not seen from any other team here today,” Santana starts and Brittany instantly perks up upon hearing her nickname, “They didn’t do anything by random. They put thought behind everything that they’ve done and they actually take risks. Sometimes it’s a hit, sometimes it’s a miss but at least they’re swinging for the fences. Don’t come at them just because you messed up.”

Brittany can’t help but smile at how highly Santana is speaking about them and the use of baseball references just makes her feel warm all over. Her heart thuds hard and her stomach fills with crazy butterflies again. She’s overcome with this sudden urge to rush over and –

She stops herself from thinking such a thought. She doesn’t even know the woman like that and it would be so out of line. But then when she glances up, she just barely catches Santana looking her way before she sets her gaze back on Mercedes. It’s quick, too quick for Brittany to interpret. She just listens to whatever Santana says next.  

Santana grits her jaw, “The challenge for Round 1 didn’t specify the number of cupcakes required, everyone just assumed it meant two. Everyone except, Team Batter Up Cupcakes. This round specifically stated that you were to make three cupcakes. You made two, or do you need a recount? Can you even count? Should I break out the counting blocks and have you practice for a bit?”

Mercedes quiets although she looks like she is going to go off at any moment now.

Santana hopes she does.  

“You also left out a curveball pantry ingredient,” Kurt adds, “That’s too many errors to overlook and that’s why you’re being sent home.”

Mercedes and Artie swallow their pride and exit the arena without another word.

\\

Santana takes the moment to finally sit back down, but not before glancing over at Brittany one last time. The blonde is looking at her like she has put every single star in the sky. Oddly enough, the look makes Santana blush and she has to look away quickly before the camera catches her.

What she doesn’t evade is Kurt’s quizzical eye and when Santana finally sees that she has been caught, she does her best to fake it until she makes.

“What?” She scoffs.

“I totally get it now,” Kurt says as the dots all finally connect, “You like her.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You do like her!” Kurt squeals, “I knew it, that’s why you let her touch your boobs!“

“Boob,” Santana corrects, “Singular and I didn’t let her. She did that on her own.”

“Same thing!”

“Don’t start with me, Kurt,” Santana snaps, “I’m still full of rage.”

Kurt only smirks, “That’s not all you’re full of…”

“Huh?”

“You’re full of shit too.”

Upon seeing the wide grin Kurt wears, Santana rolls her eyes, “You’re really trying to get your scrawny ass kicked, aren’t you?”

\\

The camera drags up Sam’s torso to settle in close as he makes the final announcement of the round, “Another team bites the dust here at the Cupcake Battles’ arena! The two remaining teams that will battle it out in the final round are: Brittany and Sugar from Team Batter Up Cupcakes – “

The camera pans to Brittany and Sugar who are all kinds of intimidating. They both growl at the audience and flex their muscles, alternating from different poses, before they point over to Blaine and Tina and yell out, “We’re going to break you in half like a pop tart!”

“Oh, that’s violent…” Blaine frowns.

“And facing off with them will be Blaine and Tina from Team Baking Dreams Come True!” Sam adds as the camera points to the contestants.

They’re remaining polite and do the whole smile and wave which surprises no one because they’re so boring.

“Stay tuned to see who comes out on top for our third and final round in,” Sam takes a long dramatic pause, “Cupcake Battles!”

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 1

Summary: Addison receives an invitation from her friend Charlie Abbott to attend the world cup, and must convince her muggle parents to let her go.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley x New Character (NOT IN THIS CHAPTER)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I’ve been needing a creative outlet and this story has been sitting in my head for a while now. Just a fun new look on JKR’s original storyline. I’ve never written fanfic before, but I’ve been having so much fun writing that I thought I’d share. Just a heads up I expect this to be very long and in many many parts, so if you stick by me through this journey, thank you so much :)

My life had always been exceptionally ordinary. Ordinary parents, ordinary school, ordinary friends, ordinary cricket practice on the weekends. In an ordinary neighborhood on the outskirts of London, surrounded by ordinary neighbors, with ordinary lives. That was until the summer following my eleventh birthday; when I received a letter that opened my eyes to a reality much bigger and brighter than the only one I had ever known. My life had flipped upside down in a way that could only be described as magical. With every day that followed being filled with even more wonder than the one before.

As I stood next to my open bedroom window, absentmindedly stroking the owl that was perched atop the spell books on my desk, gripping a scrap of parchment, I was viciously reminded of that fact. I was a witch you see, born to two non-magic parents, muggles they’re called, and my life was now anything but ordinary. The letter I’d received had invited me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I was now only weeks away from beginning my fifth year.

The owl hooted excitedly and I was drawn back to my modest bedroom. The open window had let the cool night time air fill the small space. I scanned the parchment again, trying to believe my eyes.

Addison!!!!

 My dad got tickets!! He surprised us just tonight at dinner. We are actually going to the World Cup, this Monday night!! Dad said Hannah and I can each bring a friend, and you know, of course I thought of you. Mum said if you want to come, she can call your parents on the telephone if you’ll send their number to us the regular way. She said she could try to look them up in a sort of directory book but that it had been quite some time since she’s used one. Send your reply and telephone number with Stella as soon as possible. 

 I can’t wait!

 -Charlie

I read the letter over twice more just to make sure it was real. Since I first began at Hogwarts, nearly four years ago, I had been instantly infatuated by the students dashing through the sky on their brooms, playing the popular wizard sport, quidditch. I had only struggled for a moment during my first flying lesson, and soon felt at home on a broom. After attending my first quidditch match, I became determined to earn a spot on my house team.

Now, I was being asked to attend the biggest quidditch match of the season. My favorite team, Bulgaria, would be taking on the Irish to compete to claim the title of the World Cup. Having only been able to read about professional quidditch matches in the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet, that my friends sometimes sent me, I had no idea what to expect. My head was instantly filled with scenes of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, where I had spent so many afternoons training and perfecting my skills to be the best beater in my year. Surely, it would be more grandiose than the modest wooden stands, colorful house flags, and homemade banners held up by students, but I had never attended a large scale wizard gathering before.

I ripped a piece of my own parchment and began to scribble a reply, but thought better of it. No matter how accepting my parents tried to be of my new life, they may not appreciate finding out that their daughter was planning to attend an international sporting event through a telephone call with a stranger

“You wait right here,” I pointed at the jet black owl, who was now pruning her wing feathers. I scooted a glass of water from my bedside to sit in front of the bird whom I assumed was called Stella. She clicked her beak appreciatively and bowed her head to drink.

I turned and started past my bed and the Bulgaria poster in which Victor Krum literally flew across the front on his broom and pumped his fist enthusiastically. Krum was their seeker. A position I had always admired, yet never had the skillset for. To think that I might actually get to see him play with my own two eyes made my heart soar. I couldn’t much see the infatuation that other girls my age had with him. Sure, he was arguably the best seeker in the world, but I always thought he looked a bit plain. Pinned up next to Krum on the wall were a few other smaller moving photographs. My Hogwarts friends smiled back at me and waved in what seemed to be encouragement.

I made my way down the stairs and into the sitting room where my parents were. Their backs were to me, both sitting on the red and yellow striped sofa that always reminded me of a carton of French fries. They were engrossed in a news program that blared from the small speakers on the television set that the furniture was all oriented towards. A few photographs, the faces in these all stationary, of our family littered the walls and surfaces throughout the room. I felt a familiar twinge of guilt as I scanned them. Fewer and fewer photographs included me as they grew more recent. The few that did include me were from summer or winter holidays, or before my eleventh birthday. In most photographs, my mother, with her sweeping hair that reminded me of smooth honey dripping over her shoulders, and full innocent eyes; my father, his sharp pointed features and muddy brown mop on top of his head; and my younger brother, a perfect split between the two of them, honey colored hair distinctly chiseled features, smile back at you happily. They look like a complete family unit. Almost as if there is no room for me in their world anymore like there is no room for them in my new one.

“Mum? Dad?” I called, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the television, “Can I talk to you both for a moment?”

My mother turned to look over my shoulder as my dad switched off the television, “Sure darling, what is it?” Her long hair was twisted up into a tight bun on top of her head.

I walked around the sofa, and carefully balanced myself on the arm of the loveseat that was adjacent to it.

“Charli- Er- Charlotte Abbott has just written to me. You know, one of my friends from my year at school,” I chewed on my lip, suddenly unsure of how this conversation would go. Would my parents be willing to send me trampling across the English countryside with a family they had never met, to watch a sport that they had no concept of. “Her parents have managed to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. It’s this coming Monday, and she’s invited me to go with them.”

“And where is this World Cup to take place? At Wembley Stadium?” My father chuckled, but I detected a note of seriousness to his tone.

“Well no,” I paused, amused by the idea of the world’s largest gathering of magical people taking place right here in London, “I’m not actually sure where it’s going to take place. They don’t exactly want mug- non magic people stumbling upon it.”

“We’re just supposed to ship you off about the country with people we don’t know then?” My mother sat up and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”

“Charlotte’s mother is a muggle born- er- she came from a normal family, like me,” I cringed internally at my use of the world normal. I found my new life normal. However my parent’s idea of normalcy was far different from mine, and I wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible about me going. “She said she would phone you to make sure it was alright, if I’ll just send our telephone number to her through Owl Post.”

My father chuckled again, “And just how do we do that? The postman would laugh at us.”

“Charlotte’s sent an owl with her note. It’s up in my room.” I said, trying to say it as casually as I possibly could.

“An owl? In your room?” My mother croaked and leapt to her feet. Letting the wool blanket that had covered her lap fall to the floor. She had hated birds since the time on summer holiday in France when I was eight, when she’d lost a battle over her fish sandwich to a flock of no less than thirty seagulls.

“Estoria,” my dad said firmly. My mother’s head snapped towards him and for a moment anger flared behind her stark hazel eyes. As quickly as it came though, it was gone. She seemed to physically try to push the thought aside and sit back down on the sofa.

My dad had always been a little more excited about the idea that I had been born a witch than my mother. He tried to look past the bizarre nature of the things that I told him about the magical world, and see the excitement that I saw in it. My mother on the other hand feared what my new future meant. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, but I didn’t see a future where they could be included in my world any more than the occasional holiday visit. If my father could read my mind, maybe he would be fearful too.

My father tore me from this thought and prompted me, “Tell us more about this Addison, we want to understand.”

“Well,” I started, “I don’t know a lot of the details. However, I can just send our phone number back with the owl upstairs, and I’m sure the Abbot’s would phone sometime tomorrow. They just live in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well I think it’s safe to say,” my father looked cautiously at my mother, “that until we do have more details, we can say maybe. When your mother speaks with Mrs. Abbott tomorrow, then we can make a better decision. I know you’re rather fond of this er- Quidditch sport.” He tried to smile at me. My mother on the other hand looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Mum,” I spoke directly to her, “Mrs. Abbott was raised in a non-magical family. It will be easy to talk to her. You really don’t have anything to worry about.”

She contemplated this for a moment and then answered softly, “I’ll speak with her about it,” and after a moment more, “but that’s all that I’ll promise.”

I let out a small squeal, thanked them, and then left the two of them whispering to each other in the sitting room. I scrambled back up the stairs to my bedroom to write my reply to Charlie. In it I told her that I hoped her Mum had a plan for talking my muggle parents into letting me go off into the wizarding world before the term began at school.

When my Hogwarts letter had first arrived, accompanied by the magnificently white bearded headmaster in purple wizard’s robes, Albus Dumbledore, my mother had thought I was trying to play some kind of prank on them. Despite my insistence that I had never seen such a letter before and would have no ability to contact this person to pull such a prank, my mother almost shut the front door in his face. However, he peered over his half-moon spectacles just before my mother had had enough, winked at me, and pulled out his wand. After a few minor magical demonstrations, my parents, half scared out of their minds, allowed him to come in and present his case.

Following what seemed like hours of conversations that both included me and required my absence, my father seemed fairly convinced. After Professor Dumbledore left, my dad spent days convincing my mother that they should be proud to have a child who possesses such rare (by their standards) abilities. Once my father had it in his mind, that a school to help me focus and control my magical abilities would be the safest place for me, my mother didn’t stand a chance.

There were a few days where my mother wept. My father told me that she was grieving the future she had always envisioned for me, but I couldn’t understand why. To an eleven year old, finding out you’re a witch, on top of finding out you never have to take math again, is a reason to celebrate, not to mourn. Nonetheless, my parents loaded me into the car the following September 1st and dropped me off at Kings Cross Station. From that point forward there was no regular world and magical world; there was just my world, and theirs.

~

The following Sunday evening, I had my school trunk packed, my broomstick by the door, and was stashing my wand inside the soft lavender robes I had chosen for the occasion. Mrs. Abbott had phoned my mother the previous day and convinced her to not only let me attend the World Cup, but also stay in Diagon Alley with them until the start of term at Hogwarts. I’m still not quite sure how she did it, but I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had been a little more relatable than my mother had expected, because I heard them laughing and chatting on the phone for nearly two hours.

By the time they hung up, you’d think she was excited for a wizarding family of four to show up on her doorstep. The day of their arrival, she fussed about, straightening and then re-straightening everything from throw pillows to the portraits on the wall. She scrubbed our little white kitchen until the sun bounced through the large window over the sink and off of the grey tiled floor.

About a half hour before the Abbotts were set to arrive, my father called me into the parlor where he and my mother sat enjoying their afternoon tea. I sat on a small seat across the table from them. Mum was wearing her favorite floral summer dress and had her hair in a long braid down her back. Dad looked dashing, but no more so than a work day. He wore suits into the office during the week, but on the weekends he could usually be found in his usual jumper and slacks combo.

Mum sat her teacup back onto her saucer and pursed her lips. I looked between her and my father.

“What is it?” I wondered aloud.

“Well,” my mother began, and I detected a note of sadness in her voice. A stark contrast to the excitement I’d felt radiating from her that afternoon, “this is the first year we won’t be taking you to King’s Cross to catch your train. You’re fifteen now, and you’ve become quite the exceptional young woman.” Her voice caught on the last few words.

“I think what your Mum is trying to say,” my father interjected, sensing that my mother was on the edge of tears, “is that we want you to understand the great deal of trust we’re instilling in you to let you do this. We also wanted to go ahead and give you some money for you to exchange at the er- bank.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope. “Now please, don’t go spending it all in one place. There’s a little extra in here for you to spend at the match. I won’t expect you’ll get a chance to exchange it beforehand, but please be sure to pay the Abbott’s back for anything they spend on you while you’re there, d’you understand?”

I stood and reached to take the envelope from him and he pulled me into a tight hug. After a moment, I felt my mother embrace me from the other side, and I pulled an arm loose from my father to wrap it around her. I could sense her silent tears as she kissed the top of my head. I wondered if she was mourning my would-have-been future again. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them two weeks earlier than usual. I wouldn’t see them or hear their voices again until the Christmas holiday. Tears began filling my own eyes.

“It’s alright Mum, I’ll write to you. The normal way, just like always,” I whispered as I turned to wrap both of my arms around her.

“It just isn’t fair!” She exclaimed, sobbing into my shoulder. “You’re never home! Sometimes it feels like I don’t even have a daughter anymore.”

I recoiled from her at the same time that my father hissed, “Estoria! We talked about this!”

“It isn’t right Felix!” My mother wailed, turning to leave the room, “I shouldn’t have to send my baby out into a world I know nothing about!”

I watched her go silently as tears slipped down my cheeks. My father turned to me with pleading eyes.

“Addison, please don’t be upset, you know how hard this is for her,” he said quietly. He crossed the few feet separating us and wrapped me into his arms again. My father always felt so strong. As a young girl, I ran to him when I was scared. The day I left for Hogwarts, I was bursting with excitement, but deep in the pit of my stomach was the incredible weight of fear. Fear of going out into the unknown. Fear of leaving the only family I had ever known for months. I had turned to my father, and tried to be strong, but when I saw their worried expressions, I immediately crumbled. My mother had been moments away from taking me home right then, but my father knelt down, wrapped me in one of his hugs, and I felt his strength flow into me.

“I am so proud of you,” he had whispered to me that day, but the memory blended with the present, and I realized he was repeating those words to me now.

“She’s right though,” I sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

My father pulled back and held me at arm’s length, “Addison Page Morris, you will always,” he emphasized the word, “belong here. You are my daughter. No matter what direction life takes you, you will always be able to call my house, home.”

I nodded quickly and wiped my face on the sleeve of my robe. Surely, the Abbotts would be arriving any moment, and I didn’t want any evidence of our meltdown to be visible.

“I’ll go talk to your mother,” he said, “you just make sure you’ve got everything and have your trunk down by the front door.”

I moved on what felt like autopilot as I struggled to bring my belongings down to the front door. As much as I wanted to be excited about the prospect of being at the world cup in less than twenty-four hours’ time, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Perhaps I shouldn’t stay in Diagon Alley with the Abbotts until September first. It wasn’t too far away from home. I could have my parents pick me up in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the wizard pub that stood as the gateway to the wizarding area.

I paused at the top of the stairs with my broomstick in hand and sighed. I didn’t want to come spend additional time in this home that felt so foreign to me now. Besides, there was no telling how long the match would go on. I’d heard of World Cups in the past that lasted days, and they had to keep bringing in alternates to let the players sleep. I would just have to set aside the guilt that came with leaving my family. The same way I did every year, just a couple weeks early this time. This time tomorrow, when I would be surrounded by wizards and fellow quidditch fans, my guilt would be far away.

A few minutes later, my mother and father had roused my younger brother out of his room, despite protest. James always seemed less than impressed with anything that had to do with me or magic. At 12 years old now, James had failed to receive his Hogwarts letter last summer. I always thought he had convinced himself that if I was a witch, he must have magical abilities too. He tried not to show his disappointment as his eleventh summer came and went, but his immediate attitude change toward me in general indicated otherwise.

He hovered in the doorway as my parents and I sat in the parlor waiting for the Abbotts. I hadn’t considered how they would come to collect me until now. I amused myself by entertaining the idea for a split second that they might have access to a car. There were many modes of wizarding transportation, brooms, traveling by fire through the Floo Network, but cars were hardly one of them. The only time I had heard of a Wizard family having a car was when I learned that two third year boys, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had crashed a flying one into the Whomping Willow that resided on the school grounds after they’d missed the Hogwarts Express the previous year. You’d think that crashing a car into a decades old tree that could kill you with one swing would have warranted some kind of severe punishment, it didn’t. Harry Potter, sometimes better known as The Boy Who Lived, was something of an icon in the wizarding community. In the last war, that took place when I was a blissfully unaware muggle toddler, had abruptly ended when He Who Must Not Be Named had cast a curse at infant Potter that rebounded and seemed to kill the Dark Lord.

No one in the wizarding community dared speak his name, but I never quite understood it. Out of respect for my peers, the name never crossed my lips either, I was sure I couldn’t fathom the pain and destruction that accompanied his reign. Harry however had been launched into stardom. I watched the way whispers followed him in the corridors of the castle, and pitied him. I had heard from Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister that Harry had been raised by his muggle relatives, and was as new to this world as I was. I wondered if Harry ever felt like he didn’t quite belong in either world, like I did.

An earsplitting CRACK from just outside the front door interrupted my train of thought. Bringing me around to another mode of wizarding transportation, Apparition. When I first heard about people Apparating, my first thought was the teleportation I had seen in old sci-fi movies like Star Trek. Once a wizard took and passed their Apparition test, they could legally Apparate from any location almost instantaneously to another. I had never done it, but I had heard from the older students at Hogwarts that it was incredibly difficult and sometimes painful. If it was done incorrectly, you risked leaving bits of yourself behind in a horrible phenomenon called splinching. I never expected them to arrive this way, Charlie didn’t know how to Apparate, and surely they brought her with them.

The doorbell rang, and my mother’s excitement returned. She jumped up, smoothing her dress and straightening the sofa cushions she had just been sitting on. She crossed to the front door and wrenched it open with a huge smile on her face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abbott! Hello, welcome to our home!” She beamed at them, and stood aside to let them in.

“Hello,” Mr. Abbott gripped my mother’s hand enthusiastically and pumped it up and down, “Please, call me Ted and this is my wife Susan. You must be Mrs. Morris. Your daughter is a spitting image of you.” Mr. Abbott was a short stout man with a mustache that seemed to take up a great portion of his face. It was grey, like his hair, and a smile protruded beneath it. His wife was several inches taller than he was, and wore a soft warm expression. I had a hard time imagining how they ended up together.

“Please, I’m Estoria and this is my husband Felix. We’re very pleased to meet you. Addison doesn’t bring people around to meet us very often.” She shot me a sideways glance and I felt the heat rise into my cheeks as I flushed a deep red. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my parents to meet the people in my life, I just couldn’t imagine a gaggle of wizards sitting around having tea in our parlor with my Muggle family.

Mr. and Mrs. Abbott filed in the front door, followed by Charlie. She grinned at me when our eyes met, and my rush of excitement had returned as well. Charlie was shorter than I was, and her blonde hair was pinned back neatly away from her face and cascaded down her shoulders. Her emerald green robes complimented the green eyes that Charlie and her younger sister Hannah had both inherited from their mother.

“Hey Addie,” she said to me as she rushed forward and hugged me. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since last June at the end of term. I squeezed her tightly, noting that she had gotten a bit taller over the summer holidays. “Ready to watch Bulgaria get annihilated tomorrow night?” She teased.

“You wish!” I giggled and shoved her away playfully.

“Charlotte, you didn’t mention Addison was a Bulgaria fan, we may have rescinded our invitation,” said Mr. Abbott through a chuckle.

My mother looked wildly uncomfortable with the talk of a sport she knew nothing about. Mrs. Abbott must have picked up on it because she leaned towards her and said, “Wizards and their quidditch huh? I’ve never really understood the appeal myself.” Her attempt to distance herself from the magical community for my mother’s sake must have worked, because she relaxed immediately and smiled.

“Men and children in general possess an affinity for sports that I will never understand,” said my mother.

“Please, won’t you all sit down?” Offered my father, whom I had just noticed keeping James from retreating back to his bedroom with an arm clamped around his shoulders.

“Oh that’s quite alright,” said Mr. Abbott, “we really are on a bit of a tight schedule and we’ve left our younger daughter at home alone. I just wanted to assure you we will take utmost care of your daughter and will make sure to see all the children off on their train in a couple of weeks.”

“But she hasn’t received her school letter yet,” my Mum suddenly remembered, probably scrambling for a last minute reason to keep me home, “How will we get it to her to buy her books?”

“I’ve already written to Minerva to tell her Addison will be attending the cup and staying the rest of the holiday with us. I am certain they will deliver her letter to us in Diagon Alley, not much gets by them at Hogwarts,” Mrs. Abbott assured her.

My mother looked slightly disappointed in the flaw in her plea to see me again before the term starts. Relief quickly overshadowed the disappointment as I knew she would always rather me be prepared for what’s ahead; wizarding school included.

“Well then,” she conceded, “I suppose you’re all set.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. I smiled excitedly at her, and pulled her into another hug. Our exchange of emotion filled words from just a bit ago was all but forgotten between the two of us. I loved my mother very much, and as much as it hurt me to see her so heartbroken by what I am, I would always feel at home in her arms.

“I’ll write to you both,” I promised both of my parents. Another round of hugs and goodbyes was necessary before we could finally make it out the door. On the front stoop with the door closed firmly behind the Abbotts and I, was when I remembered the loud crack that had accompanied the Abbott’s arrival.

“Are we Apparating?” I whispered nervously to Charlie out of the corner of my mouth.

She grinned and nodded, “Don’t worry, it’s sort of exhilarating.”

“But I don’t know how!” I insisted quietly, not wanting to look silly in front of her parents. Mr. Abbott must have heard me though, because he turned around and beamed at me from beneath his mustache.

“Don’t you worry my dear girl, you and Charlie are much too young to Apparate on your own. We will be taking you with us by sidealong Apparation!” Before I even had a chance to ask about this, Mrs. Abbott had seized my left arm and was telling me to close my eyes. I frantically looked around for Charlie and saw that Mr. Abbott was taking the same position on her right. She squeezed her eyes shut and I did the same, just in time.

I felt Mrs. Abbott twist away from me, only to clamp down harder on my arm. I felt like I had been submerged so deeply in the ocean that there was an intense pressure from all sides. The feeling was similar to what I would imagine squeezing my whole body through a small metal tube would be like. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs struggled against the squeezing grip that a fist seemed to have around them. Just as I thought my eardrums may burst from the pressure, everything was still and I gasped in lungfulls of air.

Mr. Abbott’s voice prompted me to open my eyes and realize we were no longer in London. We were standing in the warm afternoon sunshine in the square of a quaint little village that seemed worlds away from home.

“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.”

[gutterdreams]

Too Cool [R.M.]

Reggie Mantle request.

Hair still wet and dripping down his neck, Reggie was changing back into the clothes he had worn all day prior to the game. It was hard for him to do menial tasks after a big win, he wanted to run around, shout, and celebrate with his team until his body literally couldn’t take any more and shut down. As he wiggled into his dark, almost black jeans, he nodded for Moose’s attention beside him , the defense player still only in his boxers. “Hey, what are you and Midge doing tomorrow?” It was Saturday and Midge could not be contained. Reggie knew they would want some activity to do even if it was low key. 

“I don’t know. She wants to go to the woods or something.” Moose could not have sounded less interested if he tried. 

“Cool.” Reggie agreed with a small dip of his chin. He would never try to block one of his guys from hooking up. “Well if before you want to come, [Y/N] is having a photography show thing.” He mentioned while pulling a white undershirt over his head, the fabric clinging to his chest instantly. He took Moose’s silence as a need for more information. “It’s supposed to be chill. Just like music, coffee, some of her stuff on one wall and some other girl’s stuff on the other.” If you asked, Reggie would say he listened to the details you have him about your upcoming art show, but usually he was just watching your mouth move and wishing it was on his cock.

“Sounds…” Moose sighed before finding the right word. “Pretty lame.” He chuckled lightly after and shook his head. “I’ll mention it to Midge.” While it wasn’t his typical scene, Moose figured Midge would enjoy it. She sometimes complained he didn’t take her out on dates and this might score him a single point in her good books.

Coming up behind him, Chuck Clayton towel whipped Reggie right above the waist band of his boxer briefs. Even though the towel made a crisp sound as it hit the air and then bit Reggie’s skin, Chuck added in his own whip noise over top.

“Fuck off.” Like a reflex, Reg hissed at his temperamental friend. 

“You and Moose have a cute art date. Precious.” Chuck laughed and bent the folded white towel behind his neck. He never grew tired of bugging his teammates. It always made him good, no matter how unfair or mean. “It’s not…” Reggie began to argue and then shook his head at himself. “[Y/N] is doing a show for her photos. You should come.” He really wanted you to have a huge turn out, knowing from experience how good it felt to be supported. You were at every one of his games. “I’d rather cut my dick off with a butter knife.” Dramatically, Chuck replied and then laughed with the teammate closest to his own locker. “Too bad you’re whipped and have to go. Are you going to wear a beret and turtleneck too, Mantle?” Chuck howled as he fished his clothes out of his open locker. Reggie was burning inside, but he really started to feel the flare of internal flames when Moose joined in with the lemming laughter. “Fuck you guys.” Reg slammed his locker and aggressively grabbed his gym bag from the floor, tossing it over his shoulder and starting to leave. “Least I get pussy.” He snarled at Chuck and left, the joy from his football victory momentarily stolen. Reggie dragged his feet out of the school, his head preoccupied with frustration over being embarrassed in front of his buddies. He didn’t have the emotional maturity to take it. It cast a heavy shadow over his otherwise fine mood. “Hey champ!” You ran away from the front of his car that you were leaning up against, waiting since the game ended and running over to him before he was off the final step of Riverdale High.  "You played flawlessly.“ Grinning from ear to ear, you complimented him honestly while hugging his neck. His hands were slow to rest on your neck. They stayed outside the denim of your jacket instead of beneath and right above your butt dimples as usual. "You okay?” Cautiously, you pulled away. Usually after a huge win, Reggie was flying with happiness that couldn’t be compressed. He was almost obnoxious usually and driving others crazy with his loud recollection of the games and pumping his fists into the air. Pop’s almost always had to tell him to keep his voice down and he was the only person that could. “All good.” Painting on a thin smile, Reggie lied to you and kissed at your freshly glossed lips. It was his favorite flavor too. “Just hungry.” He led you over to the car with one hand on your back, trying to think of cheeseburgers instead of what Chuck said in the locker room. Reggie really didn’t want people thinking he was whipped. He suddenly felt angry at himself for looking forward to your show before.   The drive from school to Pop’s was just a brief ride, but it usually felt even shorter with Reggie babbling a mile a minute about the game. It didn’t help that there was no other team mates in the backseat egging him on. Since he wasn’t saying anything, you took it upon yourself to fill the strange air. “Did you want to come and help me set up tomorrow? I’m going to go about noon and hang pictures, set up a playlist with the other photographer.” She was a girl from the Southside, Toni Topaz, but you two only knew one another from following each other on Instagram. Her stuff was a lot moodier than yours. The fifteen photos you had chosen of your stuff all played with movement as you had been going through a phase where you loved playing with overexposure. Reggie knelt his head against one shoulder while sharply taking a corner. He was fully eating his bottom lip, trying to think of an answer. His demeanor towards your photography show had completely changed. “Or you can just come after. It’s all good. My sister is working the door.” You knew better than to ask Reggie to sit still for any reason at all. “I don’t know.” He shrugged and stared at the road stretched out before him. “Do you really care if I’m there?” For a second, your mind was blank. You were convinced you didn’t actually hear him. Wide as they were surprised, you stared at him and waited for him to repeat himself. “Yes.” You jumped into the silence quickly. “I really want you there.” It felt redundant to remind him that he was your boyfriend. Of course, you wanted to share this event with him. “You were the one who encouraged me to do it.” It had been Toni’s idea after all, but you had been initially bashful about the idea. You and Reggie worked well due to the fact that you never craved being the center of attention and he adored the spotlight. “Yeah, but like…it’s not my scene, you know?” Again, you stared at him as if you two were speaking separate languages all of the sudden. Mentally, you had to tell yourself to stay calm and keep composure. “Football isn’t my favorite sport, but I go to all your games.” You hoped that somehow the comparison would make him understand. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation. “I buy bake sale stuff to support the Bulldogs, I drive Vixens to away games when you ask…” “You don’t have to.” Waiting at a stop sign for a moment, Reggie pointed out what you already knew. “Of course I don’t, but that’s what you do for your partner! You should want to come tomorrow. I shouldn’t have to ask you!” Hands up in front of you, you loudly explained. Sometimes, you found yourself among your friends explaining that Reg wasn’t a total dickhead, but right now, you felt like they were right. He was just an asshole who couldn’t see outside of himself. “You’re my freaking boyfriend.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you grumbled and took your attention away from him. Instead, you stared out the window at different shop fronts, too in your head to look at anything. “I’ll stop by, okay?” Gently, since he felt too shitty to speak up, Reggie threw you a bone. A last ditch effort to make everyone happy. “Just take me home.” His sour mood had influenced you and you squirmed under your crossed arms. “What?” He wasn’t used to you not celebrating with him. In fact, you were there win or lose.   “Take me home. I don’t want to go to Pop’s.” “Are you actually mad?” For the second time during the car ride, Reggie asked a stupid question. The light of Pop’s was shining down on both of you, but you didn’t care. If he took you to the diner, you would just walk away. You didn’t answer though. Sighing deeply, you just deflated in the passanger seat. From the side of your face, you could feel his bottomless eyes staring and waiting for a response. “Fine.” He sighed back and pulled a U-turn right in the middle of the street, heading the direction you came from in order to drop you off at home. The ride was silent until he pulled up in front of the bungalow you lived with your mom and older sister when she was home from college on holidays. Still angry, you shoved the door beside you open. Reggie turned down the radio and patted his lips to speak, but nothing came out before you slammed your door and headed inside. You had half a mind to text him what a selfish prick you thought he was, but instead you decided to make your point by saying nothing to him - not even answering when he texted you ’goodnite. missed you tonight.’ at one in the morning. Like a cinder block, your nerves had settled into the center of your stomach for the night. Besides their taunting, you felt good in the violet sweater dress you had bought special for the night. It would have been nice to have Reggie there and it didn’t help that the playlist had all his favorite songs on it to add insult to injury. Much to your surprise, people were buying your prints. You knew people would like Toni’s work because you were a big fan of her eye, but you had hoped privately that, maybe, one or two people would want one of your photos. This was your first shows and you were putting a great deal of weight on it. You had never considered being a photographer professionally before, but this evening was changing your mind. Maybe more than just your mom thought you had talent. “You’ve made one hundred and fifty bucks in an hour. How can you look so sad?” Giving you a small fright as he came up behind you, Jughead’s asked before sipping his black coffee. He had come to help Toni set up and wound up hanging a few of your larger shots. “I just really thought Reg would show.” He hadny even set you a text wishing you well and you had convinced yourself he would. “Well…” Jughead considered sugar coating the truth, but that wasn’t really his style. “Reg is kind of self centered.” He pat your back with his free hand and shrugged. “Do you really think he would get it anyway?” He asked nodding to the wall of your images. Truthfully, you thought Reggie would understand it. He wasn’t as one dimensional as people chalked him up be. Sure, he fell asleep during every documentary you put on, but he generally always seemed interested when you were putting it on. He had opinions on the subjects at town hall meetings, he had a soft spot for the fact that your home was without any testosterone (always offering to help fix things around the house and pick up your sister from the bus station), and he cared. When his friends were upset, he didn’t just wait for them to move on. He cared and checked in. “You know what…” Turning your attention to Jughead, you frowned your face together with your mind made up. “This is my night. I’m not going to think about him anymore.” Proudly you announced. “I’m going to go get a drink.” Walking by Jug who was grinning with approval of your plan, you headed to the small barista bar in the back and waited to order a green tea latte. Accepting walk-by compliments on your work as you waited, you smiled to yourself and graciously took note of the people who had come to support you. Even your aunt who hated leaving her house showed up. It almost burned that others were there and Reggie felt he was above it all. Drink in hand, you turned and waved to Veronica who was standing in front of your work. It wasn’t until she turned to walk away and over to Toni’s wall that you saw Reggie. He had come and the cinder block in your gut eroded away to ash at the sight of him, hand around a plastic water bottle and squinting at your photos. You forgot all about what you said to Jughead and headed directly for your boyfriend. “Excuse me, sir, are you lost?” Very serious in your joke, you approached him from the sidr and sipped your drink as he turned to you with a shameful pout. “Very funny.” He answered unamused. Reggie was pissed when he checked Snapchat and saw that Chuck, who gave him so much shit about attending your show, was there. He took a selfie of him inside with a girl under each his arms, stupid smirk on his face. It was enough to make Reggie feel stupid all over again. He had pissed you off to impress some hypocritical jerk. With his tail between his legs, he drove over to the cage that was hosting your show. “How’s it going?” He asked in place of apologizing. “Good.” Proudly, you told him without missing a beat. You didn’t need him to be successful and it felt great. “I’ve sold a bunch of prints and people like my stuff.” “This one is my favorite.” He moved closer to the wall and pointed at  a shot you had taken in the woods, high tops of trees just a blur as the sun poured through and highlighted a family of Blue Jays passing through. “You were there when I took it.” Nodding, you mumbled. He had taken you out there to live out a fantasy of having sex in public, settling for just aggressively making out with one another on a checkered blanket that he kept in the trunk of his car. “Does that mean I’m supportive?” Reggie fished with a hopeful smile that he removed just as quickly as he put it on. “You can be.” Shrugging, you led him through the room to your personal favorite picture. It was taken through the rear view mirror of his car, Pop’s glowing in the reflection. “I don’t know why you were weird about coming. It’s just photos. I’m not doing a naked performance art piece.” Come to think of it, Reggie would have definitely showed up if you were naked. “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to admit to you that he let the guys get under his skin. “I just didn’t think I’d get it, I guess.” “That’s stupid.” You dismissed his excuse. “I don’t understand the rules of football and I always come to your games.” “You’re right.” It wasn’t easy for him to admit and you knew that. “That’s why I’m here now.” “I appreciate it.” Putting away your claws, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. He was trying and that meant something to you. “I really wanted to share tonight with you.” Tight together he pressed his lips into a smile and settled his hand on the small of your back, following you as you led him through to Toni’s room where Archie and Veronica were standing with drinks, Veronica dancing gently to the song that was pouring through the speakers. “You look so fucking hot in this dress.” He whispered in your ear, leaning back to take a harder look at your backside. “At what point, can we go and I can take it off you?” “You just got here.” Laughing, you playfully swatted at his chest. “You’re not totally forgiven yet.” “I’ll get back in your good graces.” He winked and went back to admiring how good you looked. It was the real masterpiece he thought.

[thespace-dragon]

For the lovely @seamarmot ~ Thank you so much for commissioning me and special thanks to @girlskylark for the lovely banner :D

Summary: First, we have Lance, a new-minded corporate-worker for Voltron Inc., takes some much needed time off to find himself--on a reality tv show. Let's just say he's had better ideas than that.

Then we have Keith, who was only meant to be a stand-in, to get voted off super early in the show, but there was this one guy he butted heads with all time and the audience liked them? What kind of twisted reality show was this?

Well, turns out that Altea's Juniberries brings people together, no matter if they win an all paid for, expense-free wedding.

WC: 4559

AO3

“You ready?”

“I’ve been working behind the scenes for years—”

“But that doesn’t mean that you’re ready. So...you’re ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

“Love you, babe.”

“Haha, love you too.”

. . .

The crowd applauded as Coran walked out onto the stage, smiling brightly and bowing with his typical flare.

“Welcome, ladies and gents! Are we all ready for today? I’ve got a great line-up!”

Cheers and whistles echoed through the showroom. Coran’s smile grew wider as he waved and greeted the few lucky viewers that got great seats up front.

“Today, I really have something special for you. All of you are big fans of the show Altea’s Juniberries, right?” The crowd cheered even louder than when Coran had first stepped out into the spotlight. “Well, then I am certain that all of you were happy that Mr. Garrett and Ms. Leon made it to the final round, am I right?” More cheers, with a few jeers mixed in as well.

Coran made a surprised face as he walked over to his chair and sat down. “Oh-ho? Some of you weren’t too happy about that.”

“No!”

“Bring back Keith and Lance!”

The show host chuckled. “I have a treat for all of you then. The show’s producers were kind enough to give us the details about what happened that fateful week, and—” There were gasps and whispers among the crowd. “—Now hold on, hold on. We know everything that happened, Director Shirogane was very cooperative with us and answered all of our questions. And—and… we have two very special guests that—after celebrating the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Garrett-Leon's marriage, we have Keith Kogane and Lance Diaz, the runner-ups to Altea’s Juniberries!”

With a flourish of his hand, Coran waved the two of them onto the stage. Keith and Lance walked hand in hand, smiling and waving at the crowd as they cheered. Lance squeezed Keith’s hand as they took to the stage, both of them slightly nervous to be back in front of the camera again. Well, Lance craved this sort of attention, hence the reason why he was on reality tv multiple times. Keith had been a stand-in. Was supposed to be anyway.

They walked over to the love seat that was across from Coran, sitting down after shaking hands and giving the host brief hugs.

“Wow, Coran, I swear you tried to hype us up even more,” Lance laughed, “You’re getting all these good people’s hopes up.”

“Lance, Lance, Lance. Lance.” Coran shook his head and grinned at the two of them. “You can’t convince me or the people who came here to see you that you weren’t the sweetheart of the latest season of Juniberries.”

Lance reclined and smiled back, resting his arm on the back of the loveseat. "Oh? See I remember it being someone else."

“Really now?” Coran raised his eyebrows and laced his fingers together. “The votes say otherwise.”

“That’s only because he likes to pretend he’s modest,” Keith interjected, giving Lance a light jab in the ribs.

His partner scowled and ruffled his hair in retaliation. “What Keith is trying to say is, that I am modest, and he was actually the fan favorite last season.”

Coran nodded, agreeing with the two of them as they bickered back and forth for the opening few moments, making the crowd laugh and cheer. Lance was excellent at making Keith feel comfortable—Coran had overheard a tidbit between the two of them. As he watched them, he came to understand how they had become a top pick for the show, the two of them playfully poking at each other, each trying to get the other to lighten up. He enjoyed their banter; much different from simply jumping into all the questions and getting to the meat of everything.

But as they say, the show must go on.

“Alright, my boys,” Coran jumped in as Lance and Keith began to talk about random hypotheticals. “I think it’s time to get this show on the road, shall we?”

Keith pushed Lance away and turned to face Coran. “Sure, what do you want to know?”

Coran smiled and sat back in his chair, getting comfortable. “Well, for starters, why don’t you tell us how you started to date? What brought the two of you together in the show? Lance, why Keith? And why did you go with it, Keith?”

Keith glanced over at his partner. “Well, I don’t know about him but—”

“Nope, nono, I’ll go first. It would get all confusing if we don’t start from the beginning.” Lance waved his hands cutting him off. “Okay. So, It started like this…”

. . .

For the first week of Altea’s Juniberries, Lance was trying—trying—to get over the fact that Nyma dropped out of the show. It was totally last minute, and he got it, he truly did. But…but there was only so much he could do since he had no one here.

So, for like the first time ever, Lance was way out of his element. Normally he had someone here, but he couldn't rely on Hunk the whole time. And then there was this whole brooding contestant that was there too. To him, it totally didn't make any sense. Why would you join a reality tv show and not be into it? It totally blew his mind. But it was fine, everything was fine, he was totally fine.

He was, in fact, not fine.

But hey, he had some great eye candy to look at for the next month or so. This couldn’t be all bad right?

Wrong!

From the beginning, Lance and this guy, Keith, were literally shoved together at every turn. There was no partnering up with Hunk, no getting to know Allura, no even trying to be in the same room as Ezor or Narti or Lotor or Zethrid. Forget trying to talk to Honerva and “Zarkon” or whatever the fuck his name was, there was just no getting near that. (Thank god, the audience thought so too and voted them off almost instantly. Lance was pretty sure they were just in it for the prize money and not actually about building relationships, but it’s, you know, whatever.)

In the end, Lance decided to chance it and actually try to talk to the guy after some of the challenges.

Lance leaned against the counter where Keith was making his dinner and crossed his arms. “So…”

Keith side-eyed him and continued making his dinner. “What?”

“So, uh, why did you even join this show?”

Lance watched Keith plate his food before he turned and looked at Lance. “Why does it matter to you? All you do is complain about how bad I am at all this couples shit, and now you want to be buddy-buddy with me?”

“Alright, alright!” Lance threw his hands in the air in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, I know I was an ass earlier.”

Keith didn’t say anything in response to that, no reason to deny or agree. He took a bite of his food and waited for Lance to finish.

“I’m sorry for that, but uh…” Lance floundered a bit, screwing up his face and looking away before finally spitting it out. “Look, we can start over if you want. Seems like we are kinda stuck together in this for the time being, so we could, ya know, make the most of it?”

Keith ate his food, letting Lance stew for a bit while he enjoyed his dinner.

After an agonizing five minutes, Keith moved over to the sink and began to clean up. "Sure, why not? Not like we have anything to lose in this thing, do we?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance fist pump and beam at him. “So, does that mean we can stop hating each other, now? Cuz I really don’t wanna do that anymore. Just saying.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Look, Lance, I never hated you. You were the one who made up the whole thing.”

“You didn’t really try to convince me otherwise.”

“And you were too wrapped up in that fallacy to even listen to me.”

Lance scrubbed at his face and sighed. “Okay, okay, fine. I was an asshole, and you never hated me. Got it, crystal clear here.”

Keith finished up his dishes and Lance just stood there waiting. By the time he was done, Keith felt like he could cut the tension with a knife. What was it about this guy that made everything like this? It was the same air as the stupid games they played.

“So… what now?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Lance shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Dunno, we could go chill and just watch a movie? Play a video game? Doesn’t matter to me.”

“You got Netflix?”

“And Hulu, and a PSN account.”

Keith looked mildly impressed. “Fine by me, let’s go.”

. . .

Coran looked a little skeptical. “So, what you’re saying is, is that you technically didn’t start dating in the first weeks of the show? It took you that long?”

“Well, we were on a dating show, Coran,” Lance chuckled. He waved a hand around freely. “The whole idea of that show was to date. Didn’t matter how long it took.”

“You have me there, Lance. So, what was it about that moment, then?”

Lance shrugged. “Dunno, it was just one of those moments where you just sorta… know, ya know? Like, there’s really no explanation for it, I was looking for a friend first before diving into a relationship.”

“And you two managed to be friends before leaving the show?”

“I’d like to say so, all we did was hang out during those ‘dates’ the show put on.”

The show host nodded and turned to Keith. “And what about you? Any special moment for you?”

Keith shrugged. “As I was saying before Lance went off, it was when it like, I don’t know, the fifth or sixth week in and we still hadn’t been voted off?”

“You mean where we went to sudden death with Florona and Plaxum?”

“Yeah, that week.” Keith sat back and crossed his legs, fiddling with his thumbs. “We were in the middle of an argument…”

. . .

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I meant, Lance! I don’t need you buying everything for me!”

“Keith, that is some utter bullshit, I’m not doing it to flaunt my money at you—”

“It sure does come off that way.”

“Keith, will you please just listen—”

“No, you listen, Lance. I can take care of myself just fine, I don’t need you trying to baby me just so you can feel better.”

“I just said that it wasn’t about that!”

“I’m not listening anymore, Lance! Just go hit on some other girl—guy—whoever the fuck you want why don’t you?”

Lance screwed up his face, eyes bright. He opened his mouth but shut it on a second thought. He flipped Keith off before stomping away. There wasn't any help coming from the others in the house that they were all in at the moment, most of the couples were out on dates. Lance and Keith had elected to stay in for once and sadly, it ended in their first huge argument.

For Lance, this fight hurt. His family was well-off, having enough money to put him and his younger siblings through college without any debt and still have some left over. His job paid well before he decided to take some time off and try to find someone, but it looked like even that was going to fall flat. Just like everything else.

And Keith?

Keith turned and stormed off to his room. For him, it wasn’t about the money—it never truly was—it was his pride. He was an independent person, always had been, always will be. He didn’t need someone to buy him things, he didn’t need someone to constantly be doting on him. He didn’t want that. Any of it. But Lance? He just didn’t seem to get it.

They had gotten along for nearly a month now—maybe two, Keith had a hard time keeping track of time in this godforsaken place—and how they hadn't ended each other was a mystery to him.

They were the two sides of the same coin, destined to never see each other, but always there.

Keith flopped onto his bed, smooshing his face into his pillow and groaning. Why? Why was this so hard? He wasn't even supposed to be here much past the first leg of the game. He wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Keith knew that these games weren't true; like maybe one percent of them actually ended in a healthy relationship. So, it wasn’t like this was unexpected. He and Lance were just… they were the majority here. Plain and simple.

Rolling over he stared at the ceiling, contemplating how he could completely ruin his reputation with the audience so he could just leave the show. He didn’t want to drag Lance off as well, but at this point, it was sudden death between them and oh, what were their names again? Honestly, the only thing Keith could remember about them was their freaking mermaid aesthetic.

Ugh, whatever.

Technically, it was still pretty early on in the show, only the second or third vote out. Everyone was out having dates while the camera crew followed them around, looking as “in love” as fucking possible. The couples that stayed in were still off doing something gag-worthy, sucking up to the cameras and probably each other as well.

But, Keith and Lance had just had a shouting match in the middle of the kitchen (why was it always the kitchen?) and both of them had stormed off in different directions—not caring about the cameras or any of it really.

It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t to get more votes in.

It had actually been a real and emotional argument for both of them. No posturing. No faking it to ramp up the drama. Just them.

And it had hurt. Hurt both of them.

Keith sighed and rolled over to face the window when he heard a knock at his door.

“Go away.”

There was a thud and Keith could just picture Lance hitting his head against the door, convincing himself to stay. “Keith, can we please talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lance. Just go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I want to fix this. Can I come in? Please?”

Fix this? What was there to fix? It wasn’t like they were—oh. Oh, fucking hell. They were on a fucking dating show, remember Keith? Remember that little fact? Yeah, thought so.

Keith rolled off of his bed and opened the door. Lance looked just as bad as he felt at the moment. He turned and walked back into his room as Lance stepped inside, closing the door behind him. With a huff, Keith laid back down on his bed, facing away from Lance.

“Talk away,” he muttered, waving his hand over his shoulder, “I’m listening.”

Lance sighed, and Keith heard his tentative footsteps till the bed shifted. He looked over his shoulder to see Lance sitting at the end of his bed, looking down at his hands, a mix of emotions warring on his face.

They sat in awkward, tense silence while Lance gathered his thoughts, and all Keith could think about was how much he just wanted to go home to his single apartment. Get back to working and going about his business.

"Okay…so, I don't really get where all the—well, I guess it's anger but that's a crude way of putting it, so we can just go with animosity. Yeah, that works—I don't know where the animosity of letting someone try to take care of you comes from, but…" Lance played with his fingers, fiddling with them as he talked. "But I want to say I'm sorry."

“Wow, that was surprisingly mature for you,” Keith replied, voice emotionless.

Lance let his head fall and ran his hands through his hair. “Keith, I’m trying here, cut me some slack please.”

“I’m not someone you can buy off with cool things and pretty words, Lance.”

“And I know that! I literally came here to apologize and try to make things better by being honest and willing to listen, but dammit Keith, it’s a fucking two-way street here.”

Keith tucked his knees up and scowled out the window. “I don’t know why you’re bothering when this is just a dating show and the likelihood of anyone here actually making it work is slim to none. So why are you trying Lance? What’s the point of all this?”

“Because some of us actually want to create relationships, Keith.”

He sat up and glared at Lance. “And you chose a fucking dating show on reality tv to do that? What kind of world do you come from?”

“The kind of world where it’s all about the salary you make at the end of the year.”

Keith blinked, shocked. Lance’s tone was flat. Flat and cold enough that someone could ice skate over it. He couldn’t—that wasn’t was Keith was expecting to hear. It was one of the last things he wanted to hear.

In his silence, Lance spoke up again. “Where I come from, my salary makes or breaks my status. It’s fucked up and awful, but it is what it is. It’s all about making deals, seeing who you can wring the most work out of with the least  expense on your part.” He laughed—an emotionless bark more than anything else. “Friends don’t exist without a price tag there.”

“Then why tv?” Keith asked quietly.

“Because nothing else worked? If I couldn’t find friends where I actually live and work, might as well take time off and pretend on a dating show that I have something going for me here, right?”

…He actually didn’t know how to respond to that. Keith sat there, mouth slightly agape. He hadn’t expected that honest of a reply from Lance. “I… Lance, I…”

Lance stood up and walked to the door. “Don’t worry about it.” He turned to look over his shoulder. “If you really want out of this thing, I’ll respect that, but till then, let’s just get through this, yeah?”

Before Keith could respond, Lance left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

. . .

“…And I guess that was the first time that Lance showed his true colors on the show—even though there were no cameras around at that point.”

Lance leaned over and kissed Keith on the cheek. “You mean that was the first time you realized that you loved me.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Keith scoffed sarcastically and shoved Lance away.

They all chuckled, Keith laced his fingers with Lance and held his hand on his lap. The two of them smiled at each other, again realizing that they were blissfully happy with each other.

“So, during your story there, Keith, you mentioned, not really wanting to be there,” Coran said after giving them their moment. “Was that something that played into the scandal that you two were involved in at the end of the show?”

“Part of it.” Keith resituated himself and leaned closer to Lance. “I was a fill-in for a last-minute drop. Dating shows work best when there’s an even number of people, obviously. But Altea’s Juniberries keeps a few people on-call just as a contingency. And then we are supposed to be voted off early on in the show to give all the other contestants their best shots.”

Coran leaned forward and stroked his mustache. “But you and Lance nearly made it the whole way.”

Keith nodded. "It was awesome but at the same time nerve-wracking for me. I'm just a stagehand most of the time, behind the scenes and stuff. I wasn't used to being in the spotlight that often."

“And Lance was?”

“Well, after I took time off from my company,” Lance piped up, “I wasn’t nearly in the tabloids all that often.”

“Oh, that’s right! You were promoted to the newest CEO of Voltron Incorporated, correct?”

Lance scratched his cheek, honestly modest for the first time on the talk show. "Yeah…It hadn't exactly been my idea, but the Holts were pretty insistent. They liked my ideas, but I wouldn't say the rest of the company did."

Keith nudged him in the side, grinning. “I remember reading about that. You wanted to—what? Start a kids’ show and create a toy line?”

Coran whistled. “That’s a major change from what Voltron was used to doing, wasn’t it?”

“Only a little,” Lance sat back and explained, extracting his hand from Keith’s to gesture about as he did so. “You see, Voltron participated a lot of humanitarian efforts and the goal was to get kids interested in science and engineering and technology. There were even plans for the arts to be included too.”

“If my sources are correct, you had to leave Altea’s Juniberries because that idea was finally taking off.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, it just happened to be at the same time that Keith was wanting to leave as well.”

. . .

Things were starting to get tense between him and Keith, and Lance had no idea why. For a couple days straight, Keith had actively avoided him, only doing what he had to do by the show's standards. Show up for the dates, make conversation, smile, and wave for the cameras. It looked normal, but it was far from it.

As soon as they would get somewhere that the cameras weren’t on them, Keith would disengage and act as if Lance was no more than an annoyance. It hurt.

So, just like their first argument, Lance knocked on Keith’s door and waited.

There was a muffled reply from the other side and Lance turned the knob to see Keith packing his bags.

“Keith? Wh—what’s going on?”

His friend froze and looked back at him, an apology written all over his face. “Lance, I—”

Lance stepped inside and closed the door behind him, twisting the lock on it. He had no idea what was going on, but Keith was leaving.

“Lance, I-I can explain…”

“Oh, that’s good! Awesome even, I don’t know why I thought that you wouldn’t explain.” Lance couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth—they were hurtful, sarcastic and mean. Uncalled for. “It must have something to do with you avoiding me for uh… I don’t know, three days now? Like damn, that’s just nothing.”

“Lance.”

He crossed his arms and frowned at Keith. “Well, go on, I’m here, listening. Might as well tell me, now that I have you cornered, Keith.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up all over the place. “I’m sorry, Lance, but I… I just can’t do this anymore.” He waved his hand around the room, meaning the show.

“So? You weren’t going to even try to talk to me about it?”

“It’s not real, Lance—”

“Cut the bullshit.”

Keith closed his mouth and thinned his lips. Lance interrupted a lot, but he was never rude about it.

“I don’t know what suddenly changed in the last week or so, but yeah, this is a dating show, but god, Keith, are you trying to tell me that I don’t feel anything for you? Are you trying to tell me that you don’t feel anything either?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Then what is it, Keith?”

He waited for Keith to explain, letting a thick silence fill the air between them. In the back of his mind, Lance knew that he shouldn’t really feel this upset about it, but that didn’t stop the feelings from being real.

While Lance waited, Keith turned and zipped shut his suitcase. He was frowning, dark brows furrowed and his eyes sad. He opened his mouth to speak—

Keith beat him to it. “I want to leave the show.”

And his phone rang.

Both of them jumped from the blaring sound Lance had it set to. He fished it out of his pocket and saw Pidge on the screen. This couldn’t be good. Keith was still looking away, avoiding looking at him. Lance sighed and muttered something about being back in a few minutes.

When Lance left the room, Keith let out an explosive breath. God, this was terrible. He knew Lance was going to confront him sooner or later, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. He had already talked to the director of the show and Shiro was fine with letting him go, he just had to find a way to break the news to Lance.

And this wasn’t it.

Keith sat on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to sneak away and leave a note for Lance that explained everything, but this fucking happened.

"God, I'm such a screw-up…"

The door opened and shut as Lance said his goodbyes to whoever he was on the phone with. Keith looked up to see Lance grinning—a small one, but it was his grin, nonetheless.

“So, you’re not the only one who needs to get going.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned and stood up from his bed. “Lance, you still have a shot—”

Lance held his hand up, grin growing bigger. “Okay, one: there’s no staying on this show without a partner; two: I got called back to work.”

“Work?”

“Yup, a plan finally pushed through and they need me around to keep it going, make statements and appearances, the whole shebang.”

Keith deflated. Lance was acting like it was normal, acting like he hadn’t been on the receiving end of Keith’s stupid decision to avoid him. “So… this was all just a game to you?”

Lance’s smile disappeared, and a concerned frown took its place. “What? No!”

His anger flared, and he snapped, “You’re acting like nothing just happened!”

“Keith—?”

He lowered his head and clenched his fists. There were shaking. Why was he so upset about this? Wasn’t it just a game? Wasn’t that all it was? “Lance, just tell me if this was a game or not. Please.”

Just as he was lifting his head to look Lance in the eye, he was there, hugging him close, face buried in his shoulder.

“This was never a game to me, Keith,” he said softly, squeezing Keith closer a little more. “It was never a game to me.”

. . .

“A dating show that wasn’t a game?” Coran stroked his mustache after Lance and Keith finished telling their part of the story. “Aren’t dating games meant to help people find their true love?”

Lance looked at Keith and smiled softly. “Yeah, that’s the goal.”

Keith smiled back and took Lance’s hand again. “Sometimes people miss that, and only want to win…neither of us wanted that.”

“Nope.”

Coran shook his head at the sight of Lance and Keith losing themselves to the other. Lovebirds, he thought.

He turned back to the audience. “Well, there you have it, everyone. Lance McClain and Keith Kogane!”

[eve-daniels]

Zealot

((The following is a barely edited rp snippet between myself (as the old man) and those tagged below.))

The men who Rayne had eavesdropped on during his last visit to the village were nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a rather strange looking man nearby the village center walking in slow, erratic circles around a clearly homemade sign. He wore thin, scraggly furs that hardly covered his emaciated form, and boots that did not fit properly.

He was tall, had only thin wisps of oily grey hair covering the top of his scalp, and his skin was covered in age spots. If one were to approach, he would do that the man's dark brown eyes were dull, as if all life had drained from the old man already. The home made sign dripped with red paint, and mirrored the words the man chanted loudly in a hoarse voice.

"Beware, beware, the murderess a'there,"  he shouted, waving a knobbly arm up the hill, toward the manor. "Beware, Beware, the murderess a'there."

Rayne had watched the man go through this chant a few times, his arms crossed at his chest as the man continued to march in a circle. Rayne had considered ripping the sign from the ground, but instead he ventured forth and approached the old man.

Rayne had rolled his sleeves, once, twice, three times, in order to conceal the sigil that was sewn in his sleeve. The courier brought his hands down to his sides, his right hand resting near the pommel of his short sword. The halfling spoke in a calm tone to hopefully avoid conflict as he was simply trying to gain some insight. “You believe there’s a murderess in the manor, sir?”

Sera is strolling through town, however she wasn't in any dresses this time. She had her regular armor on and seemed to be learning the layout of the town. Her ears flicked as she heard the old man, which gave her enough motivation to stop and examine the older man, as well as the younger one who rolled up his sleeves. She stayed a little bit away from the older man, and trying not to stand out more than she probably already was, decided to plop herself on a stone wall, kicking her legs idly as she looked to be enjoying her day, keeping her ears and vision open as she made herself look as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Glad to be away from the nobles and what he considered fairly petty issues, Darian wandered the village with the slow aloof air of a man who had nowhere in particular to be. He probably seemed out of place, with his highly brocaided and well designed jacket, over the simple armor beneath but he didn't care much of what people thought of him. Instead he simply wandered and enjoyed a slice of a simpler life that he had left behind long ago. He picked up a thing or two in the village while he was there. A knitted scarf he paid more than he should have for, a small carved figure from an elderly man, and a few apples which he now idly consumed.

And there he found the man with the sign. Amusement lit the grizzled features of the Commander and he approached a little closer, though he knew better than to entreat with the mad. He examined the sign and would have moved off, if he didn't notice the few people gathering. He felt like he might recognize a few and so stayed where he was, enjoying his apple to watch.

As Rayne approached, the man paused his strides, but continued to shout until spoken to by the half elf.

"Yessir!" The elderly fanatic all but screamed at Rayne, in a voice that he seemed unlikely to be capable of in his frail state. "The Lady herself! Murdered her first husband, the Lord Hereford, and they say she's sent his only son away to his death!"

He paused, staring at Rayne with a fervent expression that did little to light the dull brown set onto the recesses of a near skeletal face. "Wouldn't be surprised if she killed Lord Schofield too! They say he was murdered right in the the place!! Everybody knows it's warded to the void and back. Ain't no way some assassin got in that place 'less she was a'livin there already, if you ask me."

His heavily booted feet drew him a little closer. Direct assumptions of guilt were a far cry from the generalized ranting of a madman. He indicated with the half eaten apple in his hand, his other hand resting on the hilt of his dueling saber. Nothing in what he was doing could be seen as threatening, simply indicative.

"But did anyone ask you old man? Assassins come in many forms and types, and do not require magics. Perhaps you should go up to the mansion and lay down your claims to the Captain of the Guard? I am sure they would give you a warm welcome. If not, then perhaps you are not so strident in your convictions."

Sera's smile vanishes at the mention of assassins, especially in a well guarded place such as the manor. She stops kicking her legs as she concentrates, looking around for Cami, as well as anyone else that could be a potential threat. For the moment she's satisfied, as she finds everything that she needs to, but even that doesn't really bring back her smile. Her feet go flat against the stone wall, ready to jump off at any second.

The Outrunner listened to the man's claims with an open mind as he didn't fully understand the story anyways. What he spoke of had made sense to Rayne, especially after his own encounter with the magical wards placed over the estate.  Rayne's lips parted to speak but found themselves silenced once more as another voice had hit the air. Rayne's head turned to see who had spoken and had vaguely remembered the face of the man of the horse, though it was his first time hearing him speak with how quickly Rayne had departed from the sitting room.

A sharp whistle hit the air as an odd looking bird perched itself on a nearby rooftop, overlooking the scene below.

The old man turned to frown at Darian. He took a moment to eye the man's finery, pegging him as a noble himself instantly. "Well, your lordship I don't reckon they did. That red headed, husband murderin' bitch what that sits up there all high an' mighty would have my head if I tried that, sure as the sky is blue."

Frustrated by what he perceived as their ignorance of the facts, he resumed his chant, this time standing in place while pumping his fist into the air feebly, this time adding to his original refrain.

"Beware, beware, there's a murderess a'there, beware beware, the bitch with red hair."

Darien snorted peevishly. "Ah well it would seem your powers of observation are not what they need to be, or you would not be calling me any sort of Lord." He sniffed derisively and shook his head taking two steps closer.

"But I am in the service of a guest up there, and I doubt they would appreciate you maligning the lady's good name. Especially from someone like you who, appears to live at the whim OF the lady on the hill. If she were so murderous, i'm sure you would not be standing there hmm? So...run along back to the masters who have you out here to be a catspaw."

Sera hums out to herself, as if she's not entirely certain what's going on. On the inside however, this kind of thing she obviously isn't enjoying, as her face is almost expressionless. Her tattoos flare out small purple flames as her frustration increases. However, she knows that at the moment she can't do what she wants to do, lest she ruin Cami's reputation. So she sits there, her fingers already well dug into the stone, enough so most of her fingers are embedded into it, doing what she's supposed to do, and scans the area of any other threat.

The courier had squinted at the old man in an attempt to restrain himself on Lady Schofield's behalf. It didn't rest well with the young halfling and with each moment the anger in the young boy grew. "That's enough." His voice was stern, as if ordering the older man to step aside and cease his actions. "I'll not have you down here slandering Lady Schofield's good name with lies." The courier attempted to take the sign from the ground in the hopes of bringing the old man's act to an end.

The old man might have been a zealot of sorts, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He knew he was no match for the younger men, and as such, did nothing to stop the sign from being removed.

"Light bless those who speak the truth! Beware, beware the bitch with red hair!" He screamed loudly in protest.

"They can take my head for all I care!" He shouted at Darian, raising both hands to the sky as if ready to to be struck dead on the spot. "I am an old man, and I am not afraid to die for the truth. Beware, beware, the murderess a'there!"

By now, a crowd had begun to gather in the square. Most of the villagers had grown accustomed to the old man's shouting, and it wasn't until he had been approached by the others that things had become interesting to them. The dozen or so gathered simply watched for now, whispering amongst themselves.

(( @silent-rayne @ogrimskar @nalsrumvokunhaan ))

[kaikookie]

k-drama, k-iss.

 Member: Kim Taehyung

Genre: fluff + kiss scene

Word Count: 1,827

Author’s Note: a little scenario I thought of for this week. Been busy writing college essays, but I still wanted to post something... hope you like it!

“Yes....yes....yes....YES!! Finally!” you scream, pumping your fists in the air in victory. A big smile appears on your face, as you continue to squeal on the inside. You lean back into the couch in Taehyung’s living room. 

“It’s a good day,” you think before focusing your eyes back on your laptop screen. 

Your arms freeze in the air and your smile immediately drops. This long awaited celebration has been cut short. 

“Are you freaking serious!?!” you exclaim, “I waited twelve episodes....I waited a month and half for THIS!?!” You let out a groan and plop against the back of the couch. Part of you wants to keep watching, and another part of you wants to chuck the laptop across the room. In your defeated state, you hear Taehyung finally speak up. 

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you? What happened?” asks Taehyung looking up from the phone in his hand. 

You grab your laptop from the table and place it on your lap. You quickly rotate the screen to face Taehyung and show him the drama that you were watching. You push yourself up to tuck your legs underneath your weight. 

“This. Right here. What do you see?” you ask. Your fingers tap quickly against the screen. You’re too heated to care about anything right now.

Taehyung straightens to prop himself up from the couch and examine the screen. He cocks his head to one side before responding.

“Ummm, isn’t that the drama you’ve been obsessed with? That’s Kim....Kim something,” he responds, eyes scrunching together trying to remember the name of the lead actor.

“Yes... look that’s not what’s important right now. Look carefully...what are the leads in the show doing right now....?” you comments slowly.

“Kissing? What they do in every single drama? Am I still not getting this?” Taehyung chuckles. He starts to deflate back into the couch, sinking into the mountain of blanket and pillows supporting his back.

You press the spacebar on your laptop, and rewind back back a few minutes to the beginning of the kiss scene.

“No, the lead actor is kissing, but the lead actress is just standing there... like.... like..like a dead fish!” you exclaim.

Taehyung bursts out laughing. “This is what you’re all riled up about?”

You slump in your seat. This drama was the reason you stayed awake on Wednesday and Thursday night every week for the new episode to come. This drama was the kind where you would prepare ramen and snacks around your bed to binge on while watching. This drama was also one of the dramas where it takes forever for the leads to realize they liked each other. This drama was an investment of your time that could have been spent on homework, but was decidedly more important than anything a professor could assign.

“Tae, I know you’re my best friend, but you obviously don’t understand the profound sadness in my heart right now.” I tell him jokingly. You slumped into the couch, finger mindlessly pressing the back and forward arrows on your keyboard, each time getting sadder and sadder at the kiss scene.

Taehyung lightly flicks the top of your forehead, scoffing at your dramatic reaction to something so irrelevant, “Well, in the drama, the lead actress is surprised right? Like she didn’t even know that the lead actor liked her. That’s why she just stands there like a dead fish.”

You scoff, “How can she not notice? The lead actor was so obvious that he liked the girl! He gave her flowers, and made her ramen when they stayed the night. He practically did everything for her. Like c’mon, anyone would realize that the guy had a crush on the girl....”

Taehyung lifts one of his eyebrows and looks at you.

“What you’re saying is that, if you were the lead actress, you would be able to tell?” Taehyung teases. 

“Of course, I would have had the kiss done within the first five episodes. And I wouldn’t be just standing there, frozen, while the guy kissed me,” you comment dryly.

“You would respond to the kiss too? Wow, that doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know,” Taehyung replies quickly.

“Well, believe me or not, that’s exactly what I would do,” you say firmly.

You look back at the screen of your laptop. The scene has changed from kissing to conversation between the leads. The actress covers her mouth with one hand and has the other arm outstretch to keep the distance between herself and the actor. You scoff in your head.

So cliche.... Who would have thought that the recently popular drama would have such a reused scene.

Suddenly, your vision of the laptop screen is blocked by a hand reaching across your view. The hand cups your cheeks to rotate your head.

Your attention is now on Taehyung. He leans in and says, “Are you sure about that?”

“Wha-” you get cut short.

His lips crash onto yours. The hand cupping your cheeks move to cradle the back of you neck to bring you closer. Your hands automatically move to grip the laptop sitting on your lap, body freezing as the shock of what is happening wash over you. He leans in closer to you and you’re engulfed the smell of Taehyung. 

You don’t know what to do. As he ghosts his lips across yours to place another gentle kiss against your lips, you sit frozen on the couch, mind blank.

Taehyung leans back and all you see is a cocky smile on his face.

“Just like the k-drama...see?” he comments.

“Wait, Tae....what was that? Did you just...kiss me?” you stutter.

“Yep,” he quickly replies, a smile stuck to his face, “and you acted just like the lead actress....frozen, to put it in nicer terms.”

“But...but...you still didn’t answer why..” you continue, unable to utter a complete sentence without babbling like a fool.

“I wanted to prove you wrong. You were so adamant that you knew everything, how you were so sure that you could tell if a guy liked you...” he reasons. He is back to looking at his phone, scrolling through whatever social media he has as if he didn’t just kiss you a second ago.

You blink rapidly, not believing the things coming out of his mouth, “That doesn’t mean you can kiss me all of a sudden! It’s not like you like me or anything!?”

“So what if I do!?” Taehyung suddenly says, head snapping up, “So what if I do like you....I’m not going to be sorry that I kissed you.”

“What?” you respond almost deliriously, “what are you talking about Taehyung?”

Taehyung sighs, and his head falls downwards. He moves and angles his body towards you. However, you try to move back as much as the couch lets you too.

“I....I like you. Can’t you tell?” Taehyung says defeated, “I’ve liked you ever since third grade. I go crazy every time you talk to me on the phone since I get to hear your voice. You have no idea how happy I get when you come over to study because I get to watch you the whole time.”

“But... no way, I would have noticed,” you say quietly, shocked at the sudden confession.

He raises both of his brows and averts his gaze to the kitchen. Dishes from the food that Taehyung made sit on the table. You look back at Taehyung. He moves he gaze and settles on the counter where the TV stands. The tulips that Taehyung bought for you out of the blue stand tall in a clear vase.

“I think that drama was supposed to be a wake-up call for you from destiny,” he jokes.

He plays with the ends of the sweater that you are wearing, something he tends to do when he’s bored or nervous. The fact that his head is still down shows he’s the later. The OST from the drama is playing in the background along with the faded sounds of conversation between the actors. You finally have the guts to look up at Taehyung as opposed to staring at the pillow that ended up on your lap. 

You only see the top of Taehyung’s hair. The strands falling slightly as he hangs his head in seeming defeat. The boy you knew from childhood who swore to protect you for life looks so small sitting right in front of you. 

“Y/N, say something, you’re killing me here,” he says quietly, still looking down. Taehyung chuckles nervously, eyes fleetingly meeting yours before moving to grab your hands to fiddle with your fingers now that he’s moved past playing with sweater.

Despite wearing a large hoodie, you notice how big Taehyung has gotten, something you never saw before. With him being so close, his frame fills up more than of your view. You always loved how he could envelope you in a warm hug whenever you felt drained from school. You love it whenever he playfully whispers jokes in your ears at the library to keep your spirits up during hard days in school.

A thought creeps into your mind. Why do I like knowing the fact that Taehyung likes me? 

“Again...” you whisper under your breath. You feel like Taehyung can hear the beating of your heart from a mile away.

Taehyung snaps his head up to face you, “What....what did you say?”

“A-Again...kiss me again...” you try to say as bold as possible, heat filling your cheek. “N-nevermind...ignore what I just said,” you try to cover up.

Taehyung stop fiddling with your fingers. He finally looks up and gazes into your eyes. A smiles spreads across his face, and he drops his face down once again to bury it in his palms.

“Y/N....don’t ever say that to anyone else besides me okay? You’re killing me here...you’re so cute...” he groans.

Your cheeks are already flared red. The room feels too warm, and too small. The actors flirting on your laptop screen seem to mock you as the couples playful hold hands, walking down the street.

When Taehyung lifts his head, his gazes settles on you once more. You can’t look away. Your eyes scan face. His tousled hair, his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Taehyung reaches for you to hold you down, but you wish you could jump around to release the tension in the room. You begin to move and push your way off of the couch, but Taehyung grabs you again before you could.

“Y/N, you’re not going anywhere...” Taehyung growls playfully, and he leans in for another kiss. He grabs you hands and drags them up to rest around his neck.

Slightly more prepared than before, you close your eyes and brace for the contact. You notice how soft his lips are. His bangs brush against your eyebrows when he pulls you closer to deepen the kiss. Your hands unconsciously weave their way though his hair. You play with the hand near the nape of his neck, and he shivers in response.

His hands travel down your sides to firmly rest on your hips. You respond to the kiss, tasting him with your tongue, and Taehyung opens his mouth with a low groan.

When the both of you finally pull away, you can see the blown out pupils of Taehyung’s eyes. Expression serious and unwavering, he continues to gaze at you in silence. His heavy breathing keeps your nerves on edge, and you wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t, you speak up.

“Well...say something...because I like you too,” you say quietly.

His trademark cheeky smile breaks across his face and pulls you into a tight hug. He lays along the length of the couch and you’re on top, limbs tangled. He buries his head in the nook of your neck.

“I think that k-drama is the best drama I’ve ever seen...” he murmurs.

You relax into a smile and rest your head on Taehyung’s chest. You couldn’t agree more.

[chey-inspiration]

This is a scene from my superhero universe. I had it in my head from the beginning. It’s look at the future of our main couple, which doesn’t really fit anywhere in the main story right now

It was quite a change of pace.

Sara glared at her boyfriend who was completely fitted in his Thunderbird super suit. Sara in contrast was dressed, very uncharacteristically, in a very cute romper complete with flats. She had even deigned to add extensions to her hair so that it was 4 inches longer.

Of course, Gwen was responsible for the outfit and her hair. In fact, she was just walking back to her place from Gwen’s house when she had heard the unmistakable sound of a fight coming from the alleyway up the block. She wasn’t exactly surprised to turn the corner to see her boyfriend just finishing up a fight with a handful of thugs, lip split from a what she could only guess was an extremely lucky shot.

Normally this wouldn’t bother in the slightest. Patrolling was one of her favourite things to do, patrolling with her boyfriend was even better. And getting into a fight? Letting off some much needed steam? Feeling the blood pumping in her veins.

Normally, it would take her five seconds to put on her own suit and join him. Normally, she would have already been with him because they would have gone out together.

However, today was not a normal day.

Today, Sara was at Gwen’s house letting her friend dress her up like a little doll because alone she had no idea how to get ready for a date on her own. Today, she had to talk her friend down from a skin tight bodycon dress and a full face of make up only to get mascara in her eye and extensions tugging on her hair.

Today, she was rushing home because the whole process took way longer than she thought it would and she felt badly making her boyfriend wait out in the cold Canadian Winter.

Right now, it was 10 minutes after the were suppose to meet up and her boyfriend was beating up thugs in a alley. Without her.

Sara’s jovial expression was unusual but totally justified. Asher’s expression of sheepish surprise was also unusual, but nearly contrite enough for the situation.

This was supposed to be their first nice, somewhat fancy date together. And as much as Sara loved the dates they have already gone on: the quiet time alone during a stakeout, the thrill of fighting together and working perfectly as a team, Sara also valued variety in her life.

She just wanted to try something new. Something just as fun, maybe a little bit more formal. At least for them.

It hurts a little to see the amount of effort she put into it and the complete lack of effort he put in return.

Still, she knew her obsessive, crime hating, justice loving boyfriend better than anyone. She really should have expected this.

Before Asher could open his mouth to apologize. Because that was exactly what he was about to do, the pair heard distant screams coming from the street behind them.

Sara instantly let go of her plans for the night. She may be angry about her night being disrupted, by she wasn’t going to ignore citizens who needed her help either.

Sara allowed herself one last glare at Asher, promising herself that she would bring this up later, and the two ran down the street.

It didn’t take them long to find the commotion. People were running through the streets, jostling each other in their haste to get away from whatever had spooked them. It was later in the evening so the amount of people running wasn’t as populated as it might have been during midday. Still, Sara knew injuries from the stampeding citizens was still very much a danger.

It seemed that Asher had the same thought she did. She tried to calm those around her while also trying to gain information as to what was going on. She heard Asher’s voice speaking up as well, but of course he was dressed in his superhero suit and she was not which meant that people actually listened to him.

“Get out of the streets” he advised. “Get in a building.”

They still had no idea what exactly was going on. While the people deigned to listen to the well known superhero, none of them had stopped long enough to explain what was going on. But the streets were mostly empty and Sara would much rather them be safe and away then stay to give information and risk their lives. And she was very sure that they were about to find out was going on very soon anyway.

On que a very large figure appeared over the edge of a large skyscraper. He hauled himself over the edge. His hands left visible dents into the cement. He stood on the roof and leaped clearing the expanse of the roof and free falling over the other side.

He didn’t seem concerned as he fell with a startling speed and his harsh landing created a small crater in the middle of the road. He seemed to notice the couple for the first time and his face lit up. “You!” He boomed, his voice made Sara wince a little. He didn’t seem scared to stumble on on the city's first hero, in fact, he seemed delighted. “I know you. You’re that Thunderbird guy.”

Asher had his electric sticks ready, but he stayed silent. Thunderbird wasn’t really known for his witty banter. Not like Sara Strong was, but Sara decided to stay silent. She wasn’t the most subtle of heroes, but even she could admit engaging with someone while not in her suit was probably a bad idea.

The  man seemed to be talking to himself now. “ I was really excited for this part,” he said, his voice much lower. “I knew it would happen eventually. But i didn’t think it would happen so soon.” He pounded his fists together, giddy. “ I can’t believe I get to kill you today.”

Asher tensed slightly, but Sara just sighed loudly. Which of course brought his attention to her.

If was possible, his grin only grew.

“What’s this?” He asked. “You brought your innocent little girlfriend with you? You should have left her at home.”

In a blink of an eye, the man had leapt forward and grabbed Sara. In another blink, the man had lept back to his original spot. He gripped Sara by her shoulders, lifting her off the ground and holding her very tightly.

For the most part, the man ignored her. Launching immediately into the classic new villain monologue. He gave whatever ridiculous name he had given himself, Sara forget it almost immediately, and he spent some time talking about how the world had taken so much from him and he’s make everyone pay. Blah. Blah. Blah blah blah blah.

He didn’t notice how unconcerned Thunderbird seemed, although he was racing to figure out a way to quickly take this guy down before Sara had to do anything, or how the small figure in hss arms seemed to get angrier and angrier rather than the usually reaction of shaking in fear.

Asher saw the exact moment Sara lost her patience. And he guessed what she was going to right before she did. He stopped planning on how to get out of the situation and started planning on how to do some damage control.

On her part Sara knew it was a bad idea. But she also, knew that no one had ever expected to her make the most sound choices in the heat of the moment.

Sara spoke up.

“You know,” she said. “I haven’t had the best day. So I’m going give you one chance to let me go and turn yourself in before I hurt.”

The man started to laugh, but his laughter broke off as his tight hold started to break on the young girl. He pressed down harder, sure that the delicate little thing would be crushed in his hands.

Instead, his hands started to raise on their own as she pushed her arms out. The man strained, gritting his teeth. But Sara broke free and landed lightly on her feet.

Sara smiled at him and hopped in place a little. “I’m a little stronger then I look,” she told him. “Your powers are pretty cool, but,” she leaned in conspiratorially. “I think I’m stronger than you.”

The punch launched the man into the air and then into a crumpled heap on the ground. The following fight was quick and not altogether too brutal, considering the flared temper Sara had to start it. She quickly subdued him and handed the man off to the proper authorities.

She tried not to worry too much about what he had seen. It may have been really obvious that she was Ms. Strong, but Sara Strong was still an anonymous high school student.

By the end, Sara was glaring at Asher again.

“Sara, I’m sorry. I should never have even put on my suit.”

Sara tried to hold to a little bit of her anger. But it wasn’t really effective. She was really wired that way. Sara was just in general a happy and passionate person. She was quick to anger sometimes, and her anger often burned hot, but it just as often burned out as quickly as it came.

“Well, I know you,” she admitted. “So I shouldn’t be too surprised. And I guess it was a good thing we were both here.”

Asher looked relieved.

She grinned at him and shrugged. “And it was pretty fun too.”

Asher put his arm around her and held her close. “I like being around you,” he confessed. “It doesn’t matter what we do to me.”

Sara hugged him back. She stood on the tips on her toes so she could press her lips against his briefly.

“I like being around you too.” She said stepping back from him. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“But we’re still going out tonight,” she said a moment later.

“We are?” Asher asked, but he didn’t sound too surprised .

“Yeah,” Sara insisted. “That took like 20 minutes. We can still find something to do. Even if we’ll miss our reservations. Which we probably would have missed anyway, “ she said in an aside while glaring at his sweating body still in his suit.

She pushed him away and made chop chop motions with her hand. “Hurry up,” she said. “We’ll go back to your lair. You take a shower and get changed and i’ll find something for us to do. I refuse to have gotten dressed in this,” and here she gestured to her own outfit, “for nothing.”