#i just had to sketch something out for his comeback its simply too good

[finniigan]

Mr. Rover

plus the initial face sketch cos i ended up liking it more than the rest lol

[angstymarshmallow]

Contrast (Beckett x MC)

[A little note: That Beckett scene still has me thinking and kind of inspired. While inspiration is here, here’s something light and fluffy that I wrote quickly with some early flirtation and light development].

[Words Counted: 1950]

The library is exceedingly quiet as Octavia pushes past its double doors. There’s a few floating books that require her attention and with a swift spell, she tickles their spine and tucks them under her arm. She settles in a spot near the back, although for the most part – it seems deserted, except for the short few she noticed on her way in.

She thinks its because it’s fall and most people are preparing to visit their relatives back home. It’s only a seldom few still finishing projects for the end of the semester and Octavia lets out a frustrated sigh as she stares meekly at hers’.

This is what she gets for starting her assignment last minute – truthfully, she can’t blame anyone but herself. 

Still, anything is better than staring at the list of spells she has to understand perfectly for her project to work. And after awhile, her mind wanders – past the notes spread hazardly in front of her, and even past the walls of the very library.

And before she knows it, her thoughts drift as they often do when she’s by herself. She uses her pen to trace idle sketches – small circles at first before they take shape. Before she realizes it, she can make out his familiar hair, framed around his face and studious bright eyes that gaze back at her. 

Beckett. 

Her hand freezes and she blinks down at the half drawing of him.

Ugh. Get him out of your head Brimstone, he doesn’t belong there - she tells herself sharply. But she can’t help it, she’s always been weak for people with pretty eyes. She traces idle hearts around his face until she hears a distinct clear of a throat.

The voice is so oddly familiar, so strangely close that she immediately glances up – not bothering to cover up her sketches before she meets the face of Beckett, in the flesh staring at her with half-curiosity reflecting inside his eyes.

“….Octavia?”

“Tavi,” she corrects automatically and then remembers the incriminating paper beneath her fingers. As his eyes drop to her hands, she hastily crushes the paper between her fingers – praying to the universe he hasn’t noticed. 

“Uh, h-hey Beckett.” Geez Tavi, be cool be cool. She’s going to have to scold herself later when she has the chance but right now, she refuses to make eye contact with him until he sits in front of her.

“What are you doing in the library?” He inclines his head at her, “to be honest out of everyone, I hadn’t expected seeing you here.”

She tries and fails to ignore the flicker of irritation at his words. She isn’t a bad student. She just has trouble following the rules sometimes. She tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “…I may have decided to finish an assignment last minute…” she trails off, noticing the quirk of his eyebrows and the eyeful of disapproval that comes along with it. “But in my defense,” she rambles on quickly, “our professor did say we have until the end of the semester.”

He sighs, “and naturally you decided to wait until the last possible moment.”

She grins at him. “Naturally.”

“I can’t even say I’m surprised,” he shakes his head; his bright eyes reflecting his disappointment. 

“Hey,” Octavia points a finger at him. “We can’t all be like you,” she rolls her eyes. “Mr. Studious, mr. can-do-it-all.”

His mouth twitches into a smile despite her teasing tone. “And yet, I keep hoping I’ll rub off on you.” He teases back then freezes at the same time she does. “Uh-I mean,” his cheeks grow red and Octavia smirks as she glances up at him. “That is to say…you know, I thought I could influence you to be better.”

“I am doing better.” Her smirk softens into a smile, “I mean – I’m here aren’t I?” She throws out her hands to gesture behind her. “At my old school, I don’t think I was ever this invested in finishing something on time.”

He regains his composure, smiling a little at the wonder in her own tone. “Maybe all you needed was a change.”

She holds his eye when she answers. “Maybe,” she doesn’t realize at first that she’s leaning forward, “or maybe it’s just the people.” She adds softly.

She thinks there’s a moment that his eyes widen in surprise, and he opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. Then he suddenly stands straighter and clears his throat without looking directly at her.

Octavia bites her lower lip to stop herself from grinning. She likes flustering him, she thinks a lot of people don’t get that chance and she relishes it every time he glances away and blushes. Her mouth opens, intent on teasing him again – until his eyes drop to her notes and the balled up paper in front of them.

“Do you need help with your project or –” His hands drift to the paper and before she can stop him, he picks it up curiously. “How many ideas have you tossed out already?”

“Lots,” she carefully answers, stretching her hand out for the piece of paper. “Give that back.” 

“No way,” he says shaking his head, unaware of her sudden change in mood. “Perhaps all you need is another pair of eyes, and it wouldn’t do any good if you asked anyone other than me –”

“Beckett,” she doesn’t stop her voice from going sharp. “Give that back.”

Beckett stops and suddenly he’s the one smirking at her as though he’s realized he’s onto something. “If this isn’t your project then what is it -?”

“Harrigton, I’m warning you.” Her voice has surrendered all pretense. She reaches over – nearly falling over the table in her desperate attempt to retrieve the piece of paper.

“Now you’ve gone and gotten me curious.” He playfully twists out of her outreached palms again before getting to his feet.

Her chest seizes in panic. Please don’t – “Beckett, wait –” Usually, nothing gets her embarrassed but the thought of him seeing it makes her think her heart will spring from her chest. She nearly trips over her own two feet and his eyes flash with concern until he swiftly realizes she’s okay.

He sidesteps her again. His hands quickly unfurl the sheet of paper and Octavia suddenly wants nothing better than the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He simply stares at it in his hand as though not quite believing what he sees himself. Then his cheeks grow red, and Beckett can’t meet her gaze as he hands the paper back to her. “You’re quite good at drawing.” He comments off-handily.

She snatches it out of his hand, a little mortified at his words. Oh god. “Uh, thanks.” She holds her breath for a moment, tucking the paper into her sleeve. This is it. This is where he’ll finally have the upper hand. He’ll tease her endlessly about it, and she’ll never leave it down. And she’ll die alone - with only her familiar to keep her company.

Then he turns to her and her pulse jumps when she meets his eyes, feeling the weight of his stare. “I quite like it.” 

“You do?” Her throat goes suddenly dry and all the witty and snappy comebacks she can think of dissolves from the intensity in his eyes. He isn’t just Beckett, the boy that sometimes intimidates her with his strong opinions and knowledge. He isn’t quite the boy who irritates her either, instead he’s simply just a guy and they’re just two people suddenly very close to each other. 

“I do.” He repeats, his voice sounding huskier – not quite the Beckett she recognizes by the change of his tone. Maybe she’s had him pegged wrong this entire time.

Octavia grins, her familiar confidence taking root as she tilts her chin up to hold his stare. “You know, since you do like it. Maybe I could sketch you sometime.” She doesn’t need to say the word alone, but the word bursts forward into her mind, like a sudden rush of water that floods the rest of her thoughts empty.  And she can’t help but think by the sudden flash in his eyes that he’s thought of it too. 

Beckett seems to snap out of it at first, mumbling something so low that she doesn’t catch it before stepping aside. Instantly she feels a stab of disappointment. She shrugs it off though, she doesn’t know what came over her anyway. As fun as it is to tease Beckett, she doesn’t think anything will come of it. He’s too buttoned up and well – she’s anything but that.

“I – you - Octavia - your project,” he scrambles to get back to his seat, not quite meeting her gaze until she follows his lead.

She sits in front of him just as he regains his composure. 

He gestures to her books, picks up one at random and all too quickly, he’s the Beckett she remembers. His shoulders straighten, his brow creases and his eyes are all but rooted to the sight in front of him. He quirks an eyebrow at the long list of things she still needs to get done.  “I think you should be far more concerned about passing this semester,” he says brusquely, “than meeting up with other students.”

“Alright, fine Harrington. You win.” Octavia heaves a prolonged sigh. “I guess I should be thanking you for the help anyway.” Most people are already gone for the holidays and she’s begrudgingly grateful for his help.

She flickers her wrist to draw one of her books to her hand, and out of the corner of her eyes, she swears she spots a tiny hint of a smile poking from his lips. 

“Then let’s get started.”

-

[sp00kybrit]

prtctr: demon!shane fic

[Chapter 1]

“Ryan, that sounds like the wind! How can you not hear that?”

“You’re so quick to debunk, I bet you didn’t even listen to it!”

To avoid more bickering, Shane rolled his eyes and with a huff put on his headphones giving the “sound” another listen. This was not some of the most “credible” “evidence” that Ryan had ever posed to him. It was obvious that there was some interference, of what he was not certain. Shane shrugged and gave a bemused expression.

“Every time you do that, I take it as a win,” Ryan replied full of pride.

Shane gave a small chuckle, letting his friend have this one. Sometimes it was fun to play along with Ryan as he chased whatever “monster” it was that week. Fortunately for Ryan, he had no idea what horrors lurk in the darkness -- and how they can mask themselves as your best friend.

“Let’s go back inside and explore the second floor, I heard there’s some good activity up there.”

For a moment Shane had gotten lost in his thoughts, he mentally shook himself like an old school etch-a-sketch. With a clear head, he was ready to follow Ryan into whatever darkness he dragged them into.

“Right behind you!” Shane called back, adding some enthusiasm.

The duo walked upstairs and were met with a long, dark, forsaken hallway that could make most horror movie sets look like playgrounds. With doors on either side, it reminded Shane of a typical chase scene from Scooby-Doo. He chuckled at this thought, which startled Ryan who jumped in front of him.

“Dude, don’t do that!” He spoke between breaths. “This is the worst time to be giggling like a kid.” Ryan’s camera shone brightly in his face and Shane instinctively moved his arm to block his eyes. This was not the first time this would happen, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Roger that. No more giggles.” Ryan pointed his camera at the floor which now lit up the area between them. “Let’s just keep moving, there’s a lot of ground to cover here.”

Ryan began to tell the story of a family that met an unfortunate end at the hands of a crazed ax murderer. The police never caught the perpetrator and there have been several theories as to who it could have possibly committed the act. After reading off a lengthy list of characters, each with their own incriminating backgrounds, Ryan concluded with his own theory.

“I’m just saying, it’s totally possible that it could have been the Men in Black. The family had some shady history of their own. You never know who they were involved with.”

“So you’re saying. . . That Will Smith showed up to this families house. . . and murdered them?”

Ryan let out a wheeze of a laugh. Even he had to admit it sounded crazy, but it all made sense in the grand scheme of things. Shane joined him in laughing, Ryan believed in such wild theories that it was comical.

“I’m just imagining Will Smith, [wheeze], breaking in. . .wait what year was this?”

“It was 1923,” Ryan replied between spurts of laughter.

“Oh, even better! So roaring 20’s era Will Smith breaks in and. . .”

A sharp, high pitched metallic noise pierced the air and stopped the duo in their tracks. Ryan’s expression was that of absolute terror. “What the hell was that?!” he yelled, waving his camera around him. They were still in the middle of the hallway, so it was a guess as to where it could’ve come from. Shane laughed lightly, these kinds of situations happened often. When they did, he was there to add some comedic relief and to possibly prevent Ryan from scaring himself half to death.

“Maybe it was Will Smith?”

“Dude, this is not the time! That was really freaky.”

“It was probably just an animal scurrying in the vents, or maybe a noise outside.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, dude!”

“Fine, let’s go, I’ll show you it was nothing. Maybe we’ll even find the cute little animals making the noise too.”

Shane walked past Ryan and started to investigate. He prided himself on debunking these little noises that frightened his friend so much. Ryan caught up to Shane just as he entered the first room through a door on the right side of the hallway.

“I almost couldn’t catch up, you walk two steps and you’re there!” Ryan joked in an attempt to ease himself. “I would laugh at that, but you told me no more giggling,” Shane replied wittily. This caused Ryan to roll his eyes with annoyance, but a grin reached his lips. “Let’s see what’s here.”

Their lights shone around the room, illuminating parts of the past. Wallpaper covered most of the walls, some was torn off or in the process of detaching itself. A once ornate desk sat in the middle of the room, papers scattered amongst the top. It was clear this room had not seen life in quite some time.

“That’s a creepy picture,” Ryan said, pointing to one framed piece hung in the center of the far wall. It was an old painting depicting a war. “Huh, nothing more inviting than an illustration of war and death,” Shane spoke. The lanky man moved throughout the room, still hot on the pursuit of that strange sound. After searching high and low, the two moved to the room across the hall.

“Are we going to check every room? There’s gotta be like. .100 doors in this one hall alone.” Shane spoke hyperbolically, he didn’t mind looking, however, it was simply quite tedious.

“I just want to know what that noise was, that’s all.”

“Then I think we’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

“Oh no, none of that Scooby-Doo shit. It never works for them, why would it work here?” Ryan retorted.

Shane couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Ryan never liked being alone in places like this and sometimes Shane couldn’t blame him. These places gave off a major “creep factor”, but it was his job to be skeptical. Skeptics didn’t get creeped out or scared because they know there’s some scientific reason behind everything. Or maybe being an actual demon alludes to that reason as well.

“You’ll be fine, I’ll just be in next room over.”

Shane left before Ryan could continue his protest. He knew he had to find something to explain the noise. Anything that would prevent Ryan from blindly approaching something supernatural. The room he walked into was blasé, it was the typical “scary, dated looking room” in almost any horror movie. Shane made a displeased huffing noise as he scanned around in a lazy attempt at a search. His eyes landed on the corner of the room farthest from him; his camera light illuminated the area and he was met with a dark figure. He was certain it was not his own shadow even though the dimensions matched up perfectly. The figure turned around, suddenly filling out its features. The figure took shape of what appeared to be an older gentleman. While this would scare practically anyone else, it was not unusual for Shane to meet another of his kind. Shane broke the silence with the goal of sending this demon off.

“Alright, buddy. I’m going to give you the quick low-down. . .”

The older gentleman guffawed, cutting off the beginning of Shane’s speech. The man opposite of Shane rubbed his belly in a way that reminded Shane of a TV show Santa Clause. However, the eyes that met Shane’s were dark and hollow. Okay, Shane game face. .Let’s be serious now, he thought to himself.

“Was something I said funny? I don’t remember dropping a punch-line.” Shane edged on taunting as situations like this grew more accustomed. “Watch your mouth, boy. Yer speaking to an elder.” The old man's speech was more of a growl than anything else. Instead of a quick comeback, Shane decided rather on dropping his point and then closing out this conversation.

“Okay then old-timer, what I need you to do is bippity-boppity-back the fuck up to wherever you came from.”

The man was furious at this commandment, but even more so since it was derived from Shane. He jolted himself forward, arms forward ready to strike. Before the man could even come close to bridging the gap between the two of them, Shane raised his hand up and muttered a few words. He watched as the old figure dissipated with ease. Shane ran his hand through his hair as he berated himself silently for not doing that from the beginning. These encounters with others like him were getting slowly more serious. It wasn’t just the sight of his dark being that scared others away anymore. He was having to fight them more often now. He was thankful most of them were on verbal playing fields instead of physical ones.

“Dude, did you find anything? The other room’s clear.”

Ryan’s voice dragged Shane out of his thoughts and back into reality. The shorter man was staring up at Shane with a half-smile0 draped across his face. Ryan made Shane feel more human, he felt like he could be comfortable around him. He felt like he could be himself, even if that self-was a demon.

“Uh, yeah I think there’s a cat living here,” he pointed to a group of boxes and newspaper that littered a corner of the room, “that must be what we were hearing. It must’ve gotten into something it shouldn’t.” Shane added a shrug to end the sentence off.

“A cat. . .”

“Yup.”

“You’re something else, Shane Madej.”

Ryan laughed, turned on his heel, and left the room. Shane watched as his friend’s flashlight bounced along the wall in the hallway, distance growing between them. Ryan had completely disappeared from his view.

“Hey! I think I found something!” Ryan’s voice reverberated through the hall and into his room.

For your sake, bud, I hope not.

“Alright, I’m on my way!”

As he left the room, Shane felt a pressure building in his chest. A tension that he was only able to attribute to one factor. It was getting increasingly more difficult to protect Ryan.

[your-brother-crutchie]

Truth or Dare?

Race and Spot are known as enemies; they simply do not get along. So, imagine Race’s friends surprise when the Brooklyn boy joins them for lunch one day.

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse

“Hey, Finch, pass the pepperoni?” 


Race picked absentmindedly at his slice of pizza, wondering why he wasn’t feeling hungry on the one day of the week that his friends ordered pizza to be delivered to their school at lunch time. He should be hungry but, as much as he loved hanging out with his friends, Race was just bored. He wanted to do something, he wanted to see Spot.

Feeling someone nudge his shoulder as they dropped into the empty seat beside him, Race looked across to see exactly who he wanted to see. His face brightened immediately when he saw Spot smirking at the way Race was already blushing out of the corner of his eyes. He knew that his friends were watching them but he didn’t really care. Race and Spot were not friends. As far as Race’s friends knew, they despised each other yet, here they were, smiling and laughing when the other nudged them in the shoulder.

“How’s your day been?” As he shovelled a slice of pizza into his mouth that he’d stolen from between Race’s fingers, Spot sent daggers at the people watching them in silence, only stopping when they turned away sheepishly.
 A shrug rolled from Race’s shoulders as he frowned, realising what had happened to his pizza before turning to find out where the box had found its way to, “Not too bad, you? Yo, Smalls, margherita?” Nodding when Smalls held up the box he had his eye on, Race squeaked and squeezed his eyes shut when she sent it flying towards his head.

When no impact came, Race nervously let one eyelid raise slightly to see Spot with his arm out in front of his face, pizza box caught within his fingers as he flicked his eyebrows upwards and smirked. Chest rising and falling shallowly, Race found himself staring at Spot before snapping away and taking the box from him with a small, “Thank you.” He glanced around quickly, glad to see that the only two of his friends giving him funny looks were Jojo and Albert.

Race should probably care that Spot was breaking their usual rule of remaining enemies at school but he had just wanted to be around him, without his friends’ glances and questions. It was hard and Race should probably have explained it to his friends already but what happened between him and Spot felt like something that he should keep to himself, even if Spot didn’t want to be anything.

Resting his head on Jojo’s shoulder, Race let out a long sigh. It was Saturday and that meant that he was sitting in Katherine’s spacious apartment with six of his best friends. He was supposed to be watching a movie but, as the others all knew happened every week, Race was getting bored.

“Not interested?” Jojo chuckled as he shrugged slightly to disturb Race, getting him to let him raise his arm up and around his shoulders. If Race was honest, it looked like his friends were bored as well so decided to admit to it, nodding and grinning in relief when Albert reached forwards to stop the film, “Thank god! We were waiting for you to say something.”

Race realised that the others were chuckling and folded his arms to pout. He stuck his tongue out at Albert when he clung to his side dramatically, “Finally, Racer! That was dull as dishwater.” Shoving him off, Race chuckled as Albert pouted, puckering his lips and making kissing noises as he fought to get closer again to kiss him on the cheek but Race simply held him back. Race’s laughter only got louder as Albert kept fighting.

“Back off, Ginger!” Pushing him back, Race laughed when he felt Jojo bringing his arms further around him to protect him from Albert. 


As their laughter cooled down and the apartment fell quiet, Race’s attention was caught by Jack standing up from where he’d been sitting with Crutchie, “How about Truth or Dare?”

Rolling his eyes, Crutchie reached up to pull Jack back down beside him but the boy remained stoic, “Oh my gosh, Jack, we’re not sixteen anymore.” He shook his head at the boy who refused to fall back beside his boyfriend. Instead, Jack dropped into a cross-legged position at the coffee table.

“Oh, stuff it, Crutch, we’re only seventeen.” Shrugging Crutchie off one more time, Jack turned to Race, the one person there that he knew would take his side on this and just waiting for him to make a move.


Race laughed at Jack’s expression as he dropped from the sofa and onto the floor, sending a pointed look at Crutchie and pulling Jojo and Albert down to join him, “You’re never too old for Truth or Dare, Crutchie!” Truth or Dare was, in fact, Race’s favourite game. He loved watching people doing stupid things and taking bets on whether they would forfeit or not. He loved finding out things about people that he could use later if he needed to and he loved being annoyingly vague with his answers.

Grinning smugly at Crutchie, Jack tossed his imaginary locks and threw Katherine a thumbs-up as she settled down beside him, leaving only Crutchie and Davey on the sofas, “Okay, Race, you start. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth?” Race’s expression was confident, knowing that it wasn’t likely that they’d be able to think of any questions with answers that he’d be ashamed of. He wasn’t ashamed of anything about himself and his friends knew well enough to steer clear of questions about his home life.

A proud smile taking over, Jack turned to give Crutchie a pointed look before returning to face Race. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he deliberated dramatically over the question, “Why has your mortal enemy, Spot Conlon, started sitting with us at lunch?” Jack knew he’d done well when silence fell afterwards. No one was complaining that it was rubbish and Race didn’t have a quick comeback to give.


After a few more seconds of quiet, his friends watching him with bated breath, Race shrugged delicately and examined his nails, “Dare?” 


Jack shook his head quickly, holding his hand out in front of Albert, who seemed to have a good dare, so that he could keep the situation under control. He obviously wasn’t going to let Race get away with it that easily, “Stop it.” Murmurs of laughter trickled around the group as twelve eyes watched Race anxiously to figure out what he was going to say.

“Fine! We’re not enemies anymore.” As he decided to leave it there, even Race knew that he wasn’t going to get away with that one but decided to move on quickly so that no one could interrupt him, “Albert, Truth or Dare?” Race was amazed that no one called him out on it and the game was allowed to continue.

Smugly running a hand through his hair, Albert scoffed as he leaned forwards on his elbows, “Dare. Try me.”

Race quickly realised that he didn’t have a dare, being reminded that he was terrible of thinking of them when he heard the crickets chirping in his brain, “Shit, I don’t know. Jack?” He turned to the boy who was sketching Crutchie, finessing his left eye before turning back to Race.

He thought for a moment, a smirk spreading evenly across his features within a second as he leaned back against the sofa, his arms folded arrogantly behind his head, “Kiss the prettiest person in the room.”

“Ooooh, that’s a good on-”

Finding himself cut off halfway through by Albert grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss, Race let out a high-pitched squeal until it was muffled by Albert’s lips on his. It was a little too hot, a little frenzied, as if Albert was desperate.

All that Race could think about in the few seconds that it lasted were the five people watching them, his eyes flitting to them every so often between closing them to try to make it less awkward. Race’s nose was flooded with bubblegum, or whatever it was that Albert used in the mornings, but it made him want to cough. It was a little too feminine for Race and, although it was sweet, he wasn’t too fond of it up close. Cheeks burning under Albert’s fingers, Race found the grip awkward, as Albert seemed too focussed on kissing him to bother about how uncomfortably he was holding Race’s face.

However, the things that made Race the most uncomfortable were the broken breaths that Albert was letting slip. He couldn’t go through with this anymore and Albert didn’t seem to be stopping so he tugged backwards slightly, refusing to open his mouth and sighing in relief when Albert understood and backed away.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as Albert cleared his throat, trying to hide the smile that was growing on his features by directing it towards his phone and ignoring everyone’s stares.

Race was too cold, his chest was tightening and he was suddenly worrying about things he’d never even thought to think of before. He glanced at the door, chewing nervously at the outside of his fourth nail as he waited for someone to say anything.

In the midst of Jojo’s daggers sent flying at Jack, it seemed that Albert was able to quickly recover and started checking his nails absentmindedly. He threw a wink in Race’s direction with a subtle laugh, avoiding his eyes without making it obvious, “I knew I’d get that kiss from you, Higgins.” A somewhat tense ripple of laughter rolled through the friends before Albert was jumping into action once more, “Anyway, Race, Truth or Dare?"


Deciding to quickly ignore whatever that had been, Race simply laughed and fell back against the sofa, “Oh my god, are you that desperate to find out what happened? Dare.” He chuckled when Albert froze for a second, obviously thinking about it but settling pretty quickly.

Albert seemed relatively happy to use whatever he’d wanted to say when Jack had interrupted him and nudged Jack, giggling, before turning to Race with a serious expression, "Give Davey a blowjob.”

Quiet lapped at everyone’s feet as they stared at Albert before Davey finally set sail and broke the waves, “I object?” Dashing the idea against the rocks.

Race gestured to where Davey was sitting, propped up against Crutchie with his book hovering in between open and closed. He looked pretty nervous about dropping his attention and Race couldn’t help but chuckle gently, “Davey objects, I object. That would make it non-consensual and I refuse to go to jail on a dare.” He turned to wink at Davey jokingly, “Not that I would always be opposed to it."


Saying nothing, Davey went back to his book but casually held up his middle finger, which held the asexual pride ring that Crutchie had got him for his birthday, and couldn’t help a small smile escaping when his friends all started hollering and shaking at Race.

“Aww, geez, well, this is sweet but I guess you’re going to have to take the forfeit question.” When Albert had recovered from his laughter, he rested a sarcastic hand on Race’s shoulder, chuckling when the boy shrugged him off with a grimace. He pretended to think about it, winking at their friends and unable to contain his laughter when he saw that Katherine had her reporting notebook out, “What happened between you and Spot?” 


When Race said nothing, Crutchie broke the silence from where he was positioned on the sofa, high-fiving Albert without ever moving his eyes from the sketch that Jack was working on, “Nice work.” He eventually looked up when people were staring, giggling nervously as he accepted an awkward first bump from Katherine.


Race sighed, knowing that there was no way that he was leaving that apartment without spilling everything and resigning himself to having to admit to it. However, he did want to take another stab at avoiding, “We- uhh. He didn’t want to fight anymore.” It was a weak argument that Race knew no one believed as soon as he’d said it, picking at a thread escaping the rip in his jeans.

Although Jojo wasn’t actually on their side, Race knew that he knew that Race liked to have his secrets, the boy spoke up quickly, "We’re just going to keep asking, you may as well get it over with.” It appeared that he’d even been annoying his best friend with his skirting.


“Fine! Oh my god. He saw me at the park a few weeks ago … You know- Schenley Park.” Race kept picking at the thread in his jeans, focussing his full attention on it now as his friends turned the new information over in their minds.

Clearing his throat quietly, Crutchie squeaked a little when every pair of eyes turned to him, unsure if he was comfortable with the attention, “Wait, what’s ‘Schenley Park’?”

Jojo was frowning immediately, resting his hand on Race’s knee, over the hole in his jeans to catch his attention, and pleading with the boy silently as he looked at him, “It’s a park where old men who are married to women go to find hook-ups with younger boys.“ Shaking his head, Jojo opened his arms, blinking back tears as Race fell into them defeatedly, "Race, I thought we talked about this? I thought you’d stopped going down to Schenley?” He didn’t really want to discuss this in front of everyone but it was too late, it had already come up.

Race’s past was something that he never talked about. Jojo was the only one of his friends who knew about his abusive father or his indifferent mother or the nights he’d spent in Schenley when he was fifteen, just looking to feel alive, even for thirteen minutes.

“Yeah, that’s not what you asked so let’s just leave it there? Anyway, Spot came over and asked what I was doing there. I mean, come on.” Race gestured towards his crotch by glancing at it quickly, checking to make sure that everyone understood before continuing, “So I asked what he was doing there and, you know. That was it."


Almost whispering, Jojo brushed strands of Race’s hair from his face as he offered a somewhat grim smile, understanding immediately. He was glad that Race didn’t need to go to Schenley anymore but he needed to know why he’d started going again, “No, it wasn’t.” Race knew that it had to be hard for Jojo to see him like this, especially in a room full of people who didn’t understand and who Race wouldn’t be comfortable baring all to.


“Ugh- he took me back to his place and we fucked. Alright?” Race snapped away from Jojo slightly, taking his time to deliberately move the parts of his fringe that Jojo had been brushing and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Shock seemed to shroud his friends as Race carefully watched everyone’s reaction. He saw Crutchie turning his full attention to him, he saw Davey putting his book down. Race saw Katherine peering up from her jokey jottings down and he saw Jack gnawing on the end of his pencil. He turned to see Jojo’s reaction to being cut off and shuffled closer, unable to stand the expression on his face, before turning to see Albert, who had gone almost dangerously silent.

Turning the gears in his mind, Jack was the first to speak up, catching Race’s attention as he moved the pencil from between his lips in one grand gesture, “Spot’s into boys? Wait, are you still fucking?”


Race froze, not sure if he was comfortable handing out this kind of information before deciding to just fuck it, ”… Maybe …“ He saw Albert close himself off even further, a pretty solid idea of what was going on with that kid had formed after the dare earlier and he hated the idea that he was hurting him. Unfortunately, trying to make him happy would be crueller.

“Race, Spot’s literally known as the guy who never sleeps with any girl twice and you’re seeing him regularly?” There was a note of incredulity to Davey’s interrogative inflection but Race decided to ignore it. He knew that his friends believed him, but the situation was a little difficult to grasp at first, "You hated each other.”

Jumping into defence mode quickly, Race fought hard to control the volume of his voice, not wanting to sound angry, especially not to Davey, “Spot didn’t sleep with any of those girls, they lied! He never even dated them, he’s gay.” He knew that he was probably a little too passionate about his weekly hookup but Race was fond of the boy, what could he say? After Spot had started sitting with them at lunch, Race would risk a bet that he was fond of him, too.


Taking over from Davey’s disbelief, Katherine was straight into the conversation with a shocked, “So he talks to you, too?” Spot Conlon didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t confide in people because people were volatile, likely to go off at any instant. If Spot shared all of his deepest secrets, what would he do when they inevitably argued?


“Yeah, we go out for breakfast afterwards. He’s real nice, actually.” Race seemed to be Spot’s one exception. There could be another but, to Race’s knowledge, Race was the only person who knew Spot as well as Spot did.


A bark of shocked laughter flew from Jojo, who had slowly moved to encircle Race with his arms once more, “Oh my god, Race. You’re in love with him!” He turned slightly so that he could see his friend’s incredulous expression, refusing to allow him to escape his grip this time and giggling gently into the back of his shoulder.

Trying to shuffle from Jojo’s arms, Race refused to sit there and accept them laughing, thinking that he was pining, “What? No, I’m not!” He eventually gave up on getting away and just focussed on arguing.


“You so are.” Revelling in the others’ agreement, Jojo was really starting to piss Race off. He hated his stupid face with his stupid smirk and he hated that stupid laugh that he did when he knew he was right. Not that he was, right that is, he just thought he was and it was going to be bloody hard convincing him otherwise.


Shaking his head but allowing himself to sink into Jojo’s chest and let most of the taunts flow over him, Race ignored the laughter and focussed on fiddling with the weight of Jojo’s fingers. He couldn’t help but think of how he’d do this with Spot when they were just lying there, trailing lazy fingers over bare skin; knowing that there was nowhere to be and nothing to do and that they could spend hours just drinking in the moment.

Clearing his throat, Race quickly managed to shake the thoughts from his head as he dropped Jojo’s hand, remembering the side that he was supposed to be arguing for, “No, it’s just sex!”


Although Davey had resumed his reading, he was obviously still paying attention as he quickly chimed in before anyone else could, “And talking and going out for breakfast and sitting together at lunch and defending him?” Davey didn’t even turn back but he knew that he’d done well, simply from the uproar that he had garnered from the others.


Race thought back to all of the times when he’d had trouble meeting Spot’s eyes, or apologising for the tiniest of things. He’d tried to show off but stumbled, settling instead for making Spot laugh and just living in that sound for as long as possible. He’d constantly forget the simplest of things, fidgeting, and trying desperately to keep the conversation going because all he wanted to do was stand in front of Spot’s approving gaze for the rest of his life. Race adjusted his clothes, stood taller, and brushed his fingers along Spot’s skin whenever possible. He remembered trying desperately to befriend his dog so that Spot would be impressed by his talent with animals. When he was around Spot, Race’s voice became just that little bit lighter, softer, higher.

“Shit.”


Laughter rippled across his friends, barring only Albert who had edged his way onto the far end of the sofa, as far from Race as possible. Jojo, however, was still as close as ever. He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Race’s temple in the friendly way that they often did before sighing contentedly, “Yeah.”

I Want You Spearmint and Salt

[ashtheshortstack]

ML Fluff Month Day 17 - AU

Descendants AU that no one asked for. 

Rated: T

Pairing: Adrinette. DJWifi. 

For: @miraculousfluffmonth

ao3

Day 1 / Day 18

The four new students stepped out of the limousine, staring out at their new school in awe and smidge of disgust. It just looked like a preppy kids’ school. How obnoxious.

There waiting was a girl with raven hair, pulled back into two pigtails and a tiara placed perfectly on top of her head. Oh, he knew who she was. They were definitely not on the Isle anymore. Adrien was the first to step out of the car, Alya, Nathaniel, and Mylene followed after him. The princess smiled at them with a curtsy. Gross.

She extended her hand out to him first. “Hi, I’m Marinette, princess of Auradon. And you?”

Adrien took her hand, cocking a brow as he did so. “You don’t expect me to kiss your hand, do you?”

The princess—Marinette—laughed at him. “No, I don’t expect you to. I’m not here for formalities, I’m just trying to be a good host.”

Smirking a little, he eyed her. “Oh? Well, I’m Adrien Agreste,” he stated as shook her hand, a little more aggressive than he had intended. He may have thought this whole thing was stupid, but he wasn’t going to purposely rough up the princess. She was actually kind of cute… not that he’d admit that out loud… ever.

Her mouth opened slightly at the sound of his last name, giving a curt, but obviously uncomfortable, nod. “So, the son of Gabriel Agreste, huh?”

“Otherwise known as Hawkmoth? Yeah, that’s him,” Adrien stated flatly.

Marinette gave him a stiff smile, before turning her attention to the other villain kids. “And you?”

Alya placed a hand on her hip, “Alya Cesaire,” she said shaking the princess’ hand. There was a glint between the two of them, he noticed. Adrien glanced between the two girls who smiled at each other. What was that all about?

As Mylene and Nathaniel introduced themselves, Adrien already found himself growing bored with the situation. Honestly, he kinda wanted the princess’ attention back to himself. Which was odd… He’d never felt like that before. Adrien could help but feel a twinge of jealously when Marinette shook Nathaniel’s hand, and he looked simply in awe of her.

Nope. Stop it, Adrien. You didn’t come here for this. You’re here for the Miraculous. That’s what you’re here for.

The princess clasped her hands together cheerfully. “Well, now I think it’s time that you are shown your rooms. I have some matters to take care of, but I’ll be there to check on you all soon. Nino will be the one to tell you your room numbers, alright? He’s just inside that door.”

Marinette waved them goodbye as the four of them enter Auradon Prep. There is a boy with glasses standing there waiting on them to enter. He seemed pretty nervous. Good. He should be.

The guy grinned nervously at them. “H-Hello. I’m Nino. Welcome to Auradon.”

Waving him off, Adrien rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Can we just have the keys to our rooms?”

Nino seemed taken aback for a second, but handed them the keys and pointed up the left staircase. “Your rooms are 304 and 305.”

Alya snorted. “Oh, keeping us near each other in check, huh?”

He held his hands up in defense. “I-I didn’t…”

“Calm down, four eyes. It was a joke,” Alya said with a snort and flicked a finger to his chest.

Glancing around hesitantly, he nodded. “R-Right.”

Adrien motioned up the stairs with his head. “Let’s go. We’ll see you around…Nino, was it?”

“Yeah, that’s me! If you have any questions, let me know. If I can do anything to make you more comfortable, I’ll do the best I can.”

With a smarmy smirk, Adrien’s brow twitched. “I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Adrien and Nathaniel both walked into their room. Eyeing the bed, the mattress was much bigger than one he had slept on before. Maybe, the dorm rooms weren’t so bad, besides how—fancy they looked.

“Can you believe we’re stuck in this hell hole for a few weeks?” Adrien murmured as he plopped down on the mattress.

“With as much eye fucking as you’ve done to that bed in the last five minutes, I’d say you’re not actually complaining too much,” he responded with a snort as he sat on the bed opposite of Adrien’s.

Running a hand through his hair, Adrien groaned. “Whatever. The sooner we get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses the better. That way we can impress our parents and blow this popsicle stand.”

Nathaniel opened his sketch pad and began drawing a bit. “Can I at least get a girlfriend while I’m here? Girls on the Isle don’t even glance at me.”

Sitting up, Adrien leaned his weight back on his palms. “You think you’re going to get one here? We’re villain kids, Nath. We don’t fit in here. Everyone is going to be afraid of us.”

“Maybe, girls are into the bad boys,” he said with a shrug.

He stared at him flatly. “Nathaniel. You? A bad boy? Give me a break.”

“They don’t have to know that!”

“What? Seriously? You have a class with the princess? That’s crazy!” Mylene cried as she gaped at Alya.

Alya gave a shrug. “And? What’s the big deal?”

Crossing his arms, Adrien rubbed his chin while he hummed in thought. “That means you can find out where the Miraculouses are.”

She cocked her hip as she glowered at him. “Do you honestly think that Marinette would trust a villian’s kid enough to tell me where they have the Miraculouses hidden? Hell, no. She’s sweet, not stupid.”

“You could just get close to her,” Mylene chirped.

Wagging a finger at Mylene, Adrien nodded. “Yeah, she’s right. Get Marinette to trust you?”

Alya flopped her head back with a groan. “Why am I always the one with the dirty jobs? Adrien, you’re the one who desperately wants to impress your father,” she griped while gesturing an arm at him. “Why don’t you get off your ass and do something?”

Adrien barked out a laugh. Was she crazy!? He placed his hands on his chest, pointing at himself. “I am the son of Hawkmoth. The guy that tried to take over the world. Like hell, would Marinette ever trust me.”

Nathaniel hummed. “It’s not like you really tried. But, maybe, I could try to catch her interest?”

“No,” Adrien snapped, his pupils narrowing into slits for a moment. What the hell! No way was he going to sit here and watch the artist try to woo the princess. Disgusting.

Nathaniel held his hands up in defense. “Okay, yeesh. The princess is cute, okay? I was just trying to be a help.”

Mylene and Alya shared a brief glance, a smirk making its way on the latter’s lips. “Adrien, was that jealousy I just detected?”

What? Of course, not. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “No. Why would I care? I just don’t want to watch Nathaniel try to flirt.”

Alya clicked her tongue, a knowing glance directed his way. “Uh huh. Sure, pretty boy.” She paused and contemplated for a moment. “You know what? I’ll do it. I’ll find out where the Miraculouses are, okay? If it means I don’t have to watch poor mothy boy over here try to come up with excuses anymore.”

Face twitching, Adrien glared at her. “That’s enough of that, Alya.”

Alya and Mylene both hummed in a mocking tone, before exiting the boys’ dorm room. The pair sat in an awkward silence as Adrien then glanced up at Nathaniel. “I’m not jealous.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Nathaniel snipped back quickly with his eyes bulging.

Harrumphing, the blond picked up one of his school books, opened it, dropped it on his face, and proceeded to scream into it.

Nino flinched as Alya blew another bubble and popped loudly. Glancing over at her, he arched a brow. He leaned over to her and whispered, “You know, you’re not supposed to have gum in the science lab.”

She glanced at him sideways and popped it again between her teeth. “Oh, really? Why’s that?” she asked blowing another bubble with a smirk.

“Well, it could get stuck to something, or have a chemical reaction,” he explained, fiddling with his headphones nervously.

“My gum could blow something up? Now, that’s something I’d like to see,” Alya retorted with a snort.

Scratching idly at his forehead, Nino glanced down at his school work. “I’d rather not, honestly.” Alya twirled her gum around her finger, stretching it and smacking as she eyed his reaction with a grin. Nino just stared at her. “You’re doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”

Cackling, she ran a hand through her hair. “What was your first clue, four eyes?”

“You really can’t call me that when you have glasses to,” he pointed out.

“Oh, really? What are you? The nickname police?”

“For a villian’s kid, that comeback was pretty weak.”

Gripping him by the shirt, Alya squinted at him. “Now, you listen here—“

“Heyyyy, how’s everything going over here?” a new voice sang.

The pair jerked their heads to see Princess Marinette standing in front of their desks. Alya quickly released his shirt and looked away. “It’s fine.”

Marinette clasped her hands in front of her with a smile. “Good! Oh—um, you’re not really supposed to have gum in class, Alya, I’m sorry. It’s just for safety reasons.”

Putting on her best smile and cheer, Alya took the gum out of her mouth. “Oh, of course. My bad,” she chucked into the trash can next to her.

Nino’s jaw fell open.

Alya’s lips twitched, hiding her smile as she shrugged giving him a “what?” gesture.

“So,” Marinette pulled and extra stool up to their lab and took a seat, “Alya, how are things going. Are you and the others getting adjusted?”

With an over exaggerated grin, Alya nodded. “Oh, yes. Things are going quite well. And,” she lowered her voice, “between you and me, I think Adrien has a little crush on you.” He was going to kill her. She knew that. But, this was too much fun to resist.

Especially when the princess flushed and reared back, almost falling out of her chair. “O-Oh! Um! I’m flattered, really!” one of her hands flew up to fiddle with one of her pigtails. “I-I don’t know if a boy has ever like—liked me before. That’s, um, new.” Marinette quickly hopped out of the seat. “Well! It was nice talking to you Alya! But I should really get going! Princess stuff to do, ahahaa…”

Alya’s brows furrowed. She was supposed to get to know the princess and gain her trust. This was the perfect opportunity to do that. “But, wait, you just got here.”

Chewing on her lip, Marinette glanced down at Alya’s notebook. Quickly, she snatched Nino’s pencil from his hand and wrote a phone number down on the corner of her paper. “There, my cell number. Text me, call me, uh, anything, if you need me. I’ll be around. See you, Alya. See you, Nino.”

And with that, the princess fled the science lab in a flustered mess.

Now, that was interesting.

Nino grimaced as he watched her retreat. “You really shouldn’t bring up boys to Marinette. It’s a touchy subject.”

Alya tilted her head with confusion. “What do you mean?”

As he began copying down more problems from the white board, he spoke, “Well, at the coronation, it’s traditional that the Ladybug earrings are bestowed upon the princess and the Black Cat ring is bestowed upon her boyfriend, or vice versa depending on the gender of the heir. Basically, it’s the engagement, before the engagement, before the engagement. The problem is, well, Marinette’s never had a boyfriend.”

She nearly choked as she blinked at him. “She’s the princess of Auradon, no one has ever dated her?”

Nino gave a half shrug. “She’s talked to a few, but never really committed to anyone. We’re kinda close, she basically explained to me that none of them felt right.”

“Oh, really?” Alya murmured darkly more to herself than Nino.

She couldn’t resist the twisted grin that spread across her face.

Alya busted open the door to the dorm, to find Mylene, Adrien, and Nathaniel already sitting in the room together. Closing the door behind her, she smirked as she winked at them. “Guess who knows how to get the Miraculouses.”

Adrien jumped from his seat at the desk. “What? Really? How’d you get Marinette to trust you that fast?”

“Wasn’t Marinette,” she replied with a shake of her head. “It was Nino. The kid with the glasses and headphones. He told me that the Miraculouses will be presented to Marinette and her boyfriend slash date, whatever at the coronation. That’s how we can get them!”

Mylene furrowed her brow. “How? Snatch them before they can put them on?”

Alya waggled her finger. “Not exactly. Guess who doesn’t have a date?”

“Marinette doesn’t have a date?” Nathaniel asked with curiosity.

She clicked her tongue, pointing at him. “Bingo. Nino said Marinette’s never really been interested in anybody. So, she’s basically scrambling to find someone right now. And, when I mentioned Adrien to her she went completely red and ran away.”

Adrien’s brows shot up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope!” she responded with a pop of the ‘p.’

Mylene nudged his leg from her seat on the floor. “Look at you, pretty boy, wooing a princess.”

He scratched his head in thought. “Yeah, but, still. I don’t know if Marinette would actually go out with me because of who I am…” Wait… An idea popped into his head. “My dad’s manipulation spell. I bet I can do it.”

Nathaniel grimaced. “Mind controlling her? Isn’t that a little harsh?”

Rolling his eyes, Adrien glowered at him. “You got another plan, tomato head? We’re villains. Is there anything out of our moral code?”

Nathaniel still looked uneasy. “Are… Are we sure that this is what we want to do? I mean, our parents—“

“Are expecting us to pull this off,” Adrien interrupted. “If we don’t, who knows what they’ll do to us. Especially mine. We have to do this because we’re rotten…”

“…to the core.” They all chorused in agreement.

Adrien closed his locker, admiring his spray paint work of his father’s symbol on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin seeing someone standing there behind it. She was blonde with blue eyes, heavy with eyeshadow.

“Hi~” she sang with a wave of her fingers.

Looking her up and down, he responded. “Hi.” Suddenly, she was running a finger down his arm. Who was this chick, and why on earth was she touching him? He jolted back slightly. “Um, can I help you?”

Fanning herself, she scoffed. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Chloe. I was wondering if you wanted to go to the coronation with me?”

Adrien popped his lips. “Um, no, not really?”

Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What? I don’t think I heard you correctly?”

“No,” he stated again, this time a little harsher. “I have someone else in mind.”

She laughed. “Oh, really? I’m telling you we’re the perfect combination. I’m the prettiest girl in school, and you’re the hot bad boy. What more of a match do you need?”

This girl just wouldn’t go away would she? Taking all of his self-control, Adrien let out an irritated sigh. “Look, I’m planning on asking someone else to the coronation, alright? Go ask Nathaniel. He’s plenty of, um, hot bad boy.”

“Fine,” she spun on her heel, her pony tail whacking him in the face. He snarled as he watched her walk away. “Your loss,” she chimed.

Adrien wiped his hands down his face in aggravation. God, the things he did for his father’s approval. Ridiculous. Sighing, he glanced over at Alya, who had seen the exchange and gave him a sympathetic smile. This entire thing was going to be the death of him. Whether it was by the hand of his father or the Auradon police, he guessed he’d have to see.

Light tapping on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. He spun back around. “Look, Chloe, I—oh.” It was none other than the princess standing there behind him.

Smiling guiltily, she cringed a little. “Oh, so you’ve met Chloe, huh? She’s not the nicest girl around. Tends to make fun of anyone she can.”

Snorting, Adrien shook his head. “Even you? How could she? You’re the princess, aren’t you? Soon-to-be queen in a few days, right?”

Marinette fiddled with her side hairs, twirling them around her finger. “Yeah, well, I’m not the most graceful of princesses, that’s for sure. Or the prettiest,” she murmured the last bit and glanced away.

“What do you mean?” Adrien asked, his head tilting slightly. Cupping under her chin, he lifted her head up. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in all of Auradon.”

Blinking up at him, her eyes widened as a flush spread across her cheeks. “O-Oh…”

This was it. This was his chance. He looked her straight in the eyes, focusing on controlling her thoughts. Eyes turning a light purple, his pupils narrowed into slits, as a symbol of a butterfly appeared over her face and her eyes glazed over. Adrien smirked. “Marinette, you love me, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm…” she hummed in a daze.

“That’s why I’m going to be your date to the coronation, right?”

“Of course…”

He stared intently into her eyes for another moment, before letting the symbol disappear and his eyes returning to normal. Marinette simply gazed at him, her face going blank. Moving his hand to her cheek, he bent down to look at her face more clearly. “Marinette? You okay?”

The princess blinked out of her trance. Leaning forward, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Yup! I’m fine! I’ll see you at the dinner today, right?”

Puffing out his cheeks, Adrien gave a nod. “Oh, um, yeah. Totally. I’m excited for it.”

Marinette beamed at him. “Good! I love you! See you in a bit!” she chimed as she frolicked off into another hallway of the school.

“Yeah, see you then!” he called after her as she skipped away. Quickly, in a huff, he spun to face Alya who was just as stunned as he was.

“Woah,” she said with a gape. “You actually did it.”

Running a hand down the side of his face, Adrien nodded. “I-I did…”

“How… How did it feel?”

Grimacing, he shook his head. “Honestly? Not good…”

Alya was stunned when she opened the door to find the princess standing on the other side of it. Marinette smiled, with a small wave. “Um, hi Alya. I have a big dinner to attend this evening, but um, I need some help.”

Glancing back at Mylene, who was equally shocked and simply shrugged, Alya turned to the princess with a curious brow. “Help with what?”

Marinette stalked into the room, much to the pair’s dismay. Hopefully, they didn’t have anything out in the open that would shout “hey! we’re trying to steal the Miraculous!”

“So, I design all of my own dresses and outfits, but I can never seem to make my hair and make-up go with it. But, you two always have such pretty hair and make-up, so I was wondering if you could help me?” Marinette asked as she sat down on one of their small chairs.

What an innocent request, Alya reasoned. This princess was too sweet for her own good. “So, you basically want us to give you a make-over?” she asked.

Bobbing her head, Marinette agreed. “Yeah, exactly! I have the design of my dress. Would you like to see it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alya replied as Marinette handed her the sketch pad, who then passed it along to Mylene. “That’s really pretty, Marinette. Who knew a princess could be so talented?”

Mylene nodded. “Yeah, that’s really gorgeous. You’re lucky there’s someone to make them for you.”

“Oh, well I can sew, myself,” Marinette explained. “I just never have time now with all of my responsibilities. Being queen is a lot tougher than I thought it would be… but luckily, thanks to my first decree as soon-to-be queen, I got to meet Adrien and you guys. And he’s great!” she chimed.

Ouch. There was a pang of guilt in her chest that was back. This poor, poor girl. What were they doing this for? Glancing sadly at Mylene, Alya sighed. “Yeah, we’re so happy to be here, Marinette. Of course, we’ll help you.”

The princess had a smile that could light up an entire room. “Thanks!”

Oh, goddammnit. Why was she so damn pretty? It was the first time he’d ever seen her hair down like that. It was beautiful. She was so beautiful. Her dress was red and spotted, just like the Ladybug Miraculous she would be receiving in just a few days. It was so frilly at the top and poofed out like a short ball gown at the bottom. God, she was adorable.

As she approached, he noticed how different her make-up looked this evening. There was red eye-shadow lining heavily mascara coated eyelashes. Her bluebell eyes seemed even brighter than they usually were. He held out an arm for her, which she hooked in with no hesitation. It seemed his spell was still in effect.

The pair joined everyone else in the large courtyard. Alya, Mylene, and Nathaniel were already there as they walked over to the balcony to wave at the guests. Marinette then guided him to where the king and queen stood.

“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Adrien.”

The king and queen gave each other uneasy glances at first, before turning to him with kindness. “It’s nice to meet you, Adrien.” The king said as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

Adrien bowed quickly. “N-Nice to meet you too, sir.”

He chuckled. “Tom is just fine, my boy. No need to be so nervous.”

“Yes,” the queen took Adrien’s hand as he stood straight. “You can just call me Sabine, as well.”

“I will admit, at first I was hesitant about Marinette’s decision to bring children over here from the Isle of the Lost, but after the way that Marinette talks about you, I think it was the right choice.”

The guilt that pitted in Adrien’s stomach almost made him vomit right on the spot.

Adrien paced in his dorm, as the fellow Isle children watched. “We can’t do this. How are we supposed to do this to these people? Marinette especially? All she has done has been nice to us, and we’re going to throw that away?”

“What about your dad, Adrien,” Alya pointed out. “If we don’t pull this off, he could toast us all easily.”

Groaning, Adrien sat down on his bed. “I know, I don’t know what to do. This isn’t right.”

“We’re not right. That’s why we’re not supposed to be here, isn’t that what you said?” Nathaniel grumbled.

Running his fingers through his hair, Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know what right and wrong is anymore…”

Knocking at the door made them all flinch. “C-Come in!” he called.

The door squeaked open to reveal Marinette on the other side. “O-Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. If you’re all busy I can come back later…”

Shaking his head, Adrien reached at her. “No! Don’t go!” he quipped. Oh, shit. He glanced at his friends who were all staring at him knowingly. Well, that was embarrassing. “I mean, what do you need Marinette? You’re not a bother.”

Twiddling with her fingers nervously, Marinette stared at him. “Would you like… to come with me? Off campus? Like… a date?”

Now, Adrien could feel himself blushing. The son of Gabriel Agreste did not blush! Oh, hell no! What was happening to him!? Gulping, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go with you.”

Her smile was blinding. “Okay! I’ll be back here in a little bit!” She shut the door behind her and the dorm room fell into silence.

That is, until Alya spoke up.

“You’re in love with her.”

Shooting a look in her direction, Adrien quickly denied the claim. “What? No, I’m not! That’s ridiculous.”

Alya glanced at the other two in the room who shared her look. “Bullshit, Adrien. You’ve completely changed since you’ve been pretend dating Marinette the past few days. She’s been on you like a leech, and you’ve been completely eating it up. Quit lying to us and yourself.” She gave a sigh. “Go on the date… then we have a pretty big decision to make.”

Adrien followed her outside the front doors of the school to see a motorcycle sitting there. Was that hers? Oh, shit. That’s hot as fuck.

Giving a snort, he placed his hands on his hips. “A princess on a motorcycle? Now, that’s a new one.”

She grinned at him as she clipped her helmet. “I mean, if you’d rather take the limo, we can. This is just more freeing if you ask me.”

“Isn’t the guy supposed to drive the girl on the motorcycle?”

Marinette laughed at that. “You got a license?”

He glanced away. “Well, no.”

The princess kicked her leg over the bike, and motioned for him to join her with a bob of her head. “Then who needs the stereotypes? Get on the bike.”

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. He clipped the other helmet on, and took a seat behind her. The pair sped away, off the campus. Off to new places of Auradon he’d yet to see.

Being cramped on campus was a shame, he’d come to discover. There were so many beautiful places in this kingdom. It was nothing like the Isle. They reached the Enchanted Lake, and Marinette parked her bike. Taking her helmet off, her cute little pigtails had become messy and undone. He certainly didn’t mind it though. The bad girl look was good on her.

The pair lay underneath the gazebo. Adrien rested his head in Marinette’s lap as she played with his blonde locks. This was something he could get used to. He really wanted to. But everything was so confusing. Having to choose between his father and Marinette was becoming more and more difficult with each minute he spent with her.

“Adrien?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the Isle like?” she asked.

Thinking back of that dark and filthy place almost made him cringe. “It’s… nothing like here. People steal, cheat, and make a mess of everything all the time. No one has any remorse or guilt. It’s harsh.”

Still fiddling with his hair, Marinette hummed sadly. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Moving his head from her lap, she stood and turned to gaze at the enchanted water. Unfortunately, she stepped to close to the edge, her heels catching, causing her to go flying into the water below. Adrien hopped up in a panic, jumping in after her.

“Marinette!?”

Her head popped up from the water as he made his way over to her. The water got deeper and he found himself panicking. “U-Um. I can’t exactly swim.”

Marinette simply stared at him a moment. She shook her head. “O-Oh! Right!” She pedaled herself over to him enough for him to lift her from the shallow water and back onto the floor of the gazebo. The princess blinked at him. “You… You can’t swim?”

Running a hand through his wet hair, he shook his head. “No. Not exactly swimming pools on the Isle.”

“But, you still jumped in to save me?”

Adrien pushed himself out of the water. “Yeah, I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. “I see…” she trailed off before making direct eye contact with him. “Adrien, I told you that I love you. Do you love me?”

Oh… shit. He glanced away and down into the water. “Well, I don’t really know what love feels like,” he said with half a shrug.

Marinette cupped under his chin, lifting his head back up to see her. “Maybe, I can teach you?” she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Adrien felt himself melt against her. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as his lips danced with hers. He was a goner. That was for sure.

“I’m going to undo the manipulation spell,” Adrien said to Alya.

She stared at him flatly. “The coronation is tomorrow. What are you thinking?”

“Having Marinette still be in love with me after we take the Miraculouses just seems too… cruel, you know?”

Alya glanced down at her hands. “We’re really going to do this, huh?”

Letting out a sigh, he nodded. “We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Adrien. I just don’t know if we’re making the right one,” she murmured as she headed towards the door. She paused and glanced back at him. “Nino asked me to the coronation. He’s really nice… you two would have probably been good friends if it weren’t for all of this.” Giving him a sad smile, she closed the door behind her.

Marinette walked up the stairs in her coronation gown. It was strapped around her neck, with a long train flailing out behind her at the bottom. This time, it was pink with white floral patterns covering it. He honestly preferred the sexy red Ladybug dress from the pre-coronation dinner, but he wasn’t really the one in charge here. After what was about to happen, he didn’t have the right to have a say.

The two stood arm in arm in front of the chapel doors. Clearing his throat, he turned to her. “Marinette.”

She gazed up at him. “Yes?”

He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on her. When his eyes narrowed into slits, Marinette held a hand up to him. “There’s no need for all of that.”

Adrien jolted, taken aback by her statement. “W-What?”

“There’s no need to undo a spell that isn’t there anymore, right?”

He stared at her blankly. “Oh, right.” Wait. What!? He processed her words. Blinking at her, he gaped. “You—You’re not under the spell anymore?”

She snorted. “Nope. It washed away in the Enchanted Lake when I fell.”

“You’re not mad?”

Shaking her head, she let out a breathy laugh. “No. I’m nervous asking someone out too. If I could have put a spell on you, I would have done the same.”

“So—So, what? You’ve just been faking it since the lake? Marinette, you made-out with me after that for Pete’s sake.”

The princess simply barked a laugh. “Calm down there, moth boy,” she raised his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss there. “I haven’t faked anything.”

Gulping, he flushed. This was bad. This was so, so bad.

They walked together down the aisle. Other students and school faculty all lined the sides of the rug. Never in his life had Adrien just wanted to scream, cry, and run away. At the end of the aisle, stood an elder man with the box of the two Miraculouses sitting open, ready to be presented to them.

Marinette curtsied to him when they reached him. “Master Fu, good to make your acquaintance again.”

“As to you, my queen,” he said with a bow.

They both turned to the audience as the queen approached Marinette. She placed the new crown on top of her head, and the crowd went into a small applause. They then turned back around to Master Fu. Marinette bent down as he placed the earring within her ears. Adrien gulped when the man gestured for him to hold out his hand. The elder slipped the ring onto Adrien’s finger. The weight was almost too much to bear. The guilt was eating him alive.

He had to. He had to. He had to.

Adrien reached up, grabbing hold of Marinette’s ears. The ring and studs glowed at the contact with each other, shooting a beam of light up to the sky, and breaking the barrier to the Isle. The crowd let out a gasp.

“Adrien… What are you doing?” Marinette whimpered. Betrayal was clear in her eyes.

Alya, Mylene, and Nathaniel ran up to join him. Nathaniel eyed him. “Adrien, just take them. Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Marinette gasped.

He gazed at her. “Marinette, I—I have to. We don’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice! Your parents made theirs now make yours, Adrien.”

The words shook him to the core. It may have been one thing coming from Alya… but coming from the girl that he’d found himself falling in love with. That was different. He glanced over at the others, before turning back to Marinette. “I-I think I want to be good.”

Marinette reached up, cupping his hands that her grasping her earrings. “You are good!”

“How do you know that!?” he cried.

“Be—Because I’m listening to my heart. I know that this isn’t you! You’re not your parents, Adrien, you are so much more than that,” she said gently as she took his hands off the earrings, both jewels returning to their normal color.

Intertwining his fingers with hers, he gazed into her eyes. “Marinette… I…”

“Oh, well isn’t this sweet?”

Adrien gasped at the voice. Oh, no. No, no, no! There was another roar from the crowd as Adrien turned to see his father standing in the middle of the Isle. “D-Dad. How did you get here?”

Chuckling darkly, Gabriel eyed his son. “Now, isn’t the time for questions. Give me the Miraculous.”

Adrien clutched the ring with both hands. “No.”

Gabriel cocked a brow. “No?”

“No, father! I won’t do it!”

“Now, this is a surprise. What’s gotten into you?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m not you, father. I don’t want to be you. I’m not evil. This isn’t who I am.”

“Hand over the jewels, or else, son.”

Hardening his gaze, Adrien sneered. “No.”

Gabriel growled. “Fine. Have it your way then.” Butterflies surrounded him, transforming him into Hawkmoth. He lifted his scepter in his direction, firing it towards them. The crowd screamed in terror, only for him to manipulate the audience into silence and freeze them. Adrien jumped in front of Marinette, shielding her from the blast.

The ring on Adrien’s finger began to hum and glow, green light absorbed him as he too changed forms. He glanced down at his gloved hands in surprise.

Marinette clutched to him. “You can do it,” she whispered.  Hawkmoth then froze the rest of the counsel, including the princess. Adrien glowered, turning around slowly. His eyes glowing an unnatural green.

“Aw, now that’s a scary face. What happened to my powers, hm? I know you have them.”

“Don’t need them,” he growled.

Hawkmoth charged him, Adrien stopping him by clutching the staff with both hands to block him. His father’s eyes bored into his own, turning a bright lilac and his father’s eyes narrowed into slits just as Adrien’s had before.

Taking a step forward, Adrien forced him back. His own eyes a vibrant green as he tried to overpower his father’s abilities. Another step. Gabriel glanced between his staff and his son, losing focus on defeating him. With sheer determination, Adrien forced a symbol across his father’s face, however not a butterfly, but a shining cat. Hawkmoth reared back into a puff of smoke. A small creature emerging from it. Adrien caught him in his hands as the Black Cat glowed again, and instantly Adrien was back into his formal attire and the crowd was unfrozen.

Marinette charged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You did it. I can’t believe you did it.”

“I…I did…” Adrien sighed in relief as he scooped her up in his arms to spin her. “I really did it…”

Marinette grabbed him by the lapels of his dress coat, yanking him down into a solid kiss. The audience cooed at the sight, but Adrien was too wrapped up in the feeling of her lips against his to really pay any attention to it. Living happily ever after with her was all he ever needed.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic - “Always and Forever” (Rated NC17) 4/24

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a “fixer upper” and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt’s love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

This chapter inspired by the K*laine advent drabble prompt “dessert”.

Read on AO3.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

That evening, Kurt sets his alarm. He needs to take control of his life. No more depending on his circadian rhythm to wake him up on time. From now on, he sets his own rhythm and follows it. Kurt has always followed the beat of his own drum. He needs to go back to that.

For his sanity if for nothing else.

So his alarm goes off at seven. He gets out of bed, gathers his skin care products and his clothes for the day, and heads to the bathroom. Before he turns on the shower water, he sets another timer. He’ll give himself an hour. Half-an-hour seems like rushing, but if he stays in there for longer, he might as well bring a sandwich and set up shop because he’ll be there all day.

Sebastian used to joke about Kurt and his “two hour showers”, claiming that Kurt’s showers alone deprived most of the city of hot water. He blamed three separate water shortages on Kurt (even though none of those droughts affected their area). So on the mornings that Sebastian went to work late, he’d join Kurt in the shower. As soon as Kurt broke out his body wash and started soaping up his skin, Sebastian would relieve him of that responsibility, and Kurt’s “two hour” solo shower would turn into a three hour orgasm.

As much as Kurt misses those, he doesn’t want to remember them. He’s not ready for those to make a comeback.

An hour in the shower is fine.

While he lathers up, he starts making a list of things to do to keep his mind from wandering. First, he needs to finalize those orders sitting in his shopping cart since yesterday. After lunch, Kurt didn’t go back to working on the house. Instead, Sebastian lured Kurt into another movie marathon. Movies are the way that Sebastian deals with his depression. As a child, he and his father loved going to the movies together. The minute the newest blockbuster hit the theaters, they were the first two in line. But adult Sebastian can’t stand going to the movies. He doesn’t like anything about it, from the overpriced tickets to the sticky floors, and the popcorn, which Sebastian accuses of being stale even if it’s freshly popped before his eyes. He says it’s because he has no desire to waste his time in a stuffy, poorly ventilated theater, watching a movie that will be on Netflix in a few months anyway, especially when there’s book reading and fucking to do.

Kurt thinks that might have something to do with the falling out Sebastian and his father had after Sebastian and Kurt got married, but Kurt has yet to ask.

If he did, Sebastian probably wouldn’t talk about it.

Sebastian hasn’t cracked a book since Grace got sick. Reading gives him too much time inside his own head with his intrusive thoughts. And fucking … well, that isn’t something they did anymore.

So movies it is. Sebastian can get lost in movies. He can shut off his brain and just follow along with the words and the action, seeing everything, hearing everything, having it all handed to him without exerting any effort, and absorbing nothing. Kurt will ask him, on occasion, about the show that he’s been watching so intently, but except for the prior five minutes, Sebastian usually can’t tell him what the plot is. Even without Kurt by his side, he usually falls asleep with the television on.

The television is on in their room right now, cycling from one episode of Lucifer to another on a continuous loop.

Kurt’s list making grinds to a halt when thoughts of his husband lying in their bed, curled on his side with the television on, interrupts his contemplating over whether he wants to refinish all of the floors, or does he want carpet on some. Sebastian. His marriage. That’s something Kurt’s going to have to work on, too. But is that the kind of thing that you jot onto a list filled with stuff like order paint, hire a contractor, and call Terminix to make sure there are no termites in the exterior wood before he starts tearing out drywall? Kurt does have a habit of living his life by lists. If it’s not on a list, it often times gets forgotten.

So, yes, working on his marriage makes its way onto his “to do” list.

He rinses off and gets out of the shower before his timer goes off. After he dries, moisturizes, and dresses, he grabs his sketchbook and ventures downstairs. In the few days they’ve been there, Kurt hasn’t spent more than five hours total in the downstairs of the house. He’d better get a move on if they want to enter the New Year with more than a handful of chairs, an old flea market coffee table, and a futon.

Or maybe he should have Sebastian send for the rest of their furniture from the penthouse.

Does Kurt really see himself going back?

Rustling around in the kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started, covers the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Kurt wanders from room to room as his coffee heats, but the footsteps join up with him in the room that will become Sebastian’s office.

“I didn’t think I’d find you down here.”

Kurt doesn’t look up when his husband stops in the doorway, but Sebastian sounds tired. If the man’s still tired, why doesn’t he stay in bed? Kurt wonders. It’s not like he really needs to be anywhere.

Of course, he could be doing like Kurt, setting a schedule and sticking to it, all in an effort to stay sane.

Kurt can respect that.

“Yeah, well, there’s a ton of work to do in this house of yours,” Kurt says, walking the room. “I can’t rest on my laurels.”

Sebastian frowns at Kurt’s distinction. Sebastian had seen this as their new house, their new start, but apparently Kurt doesn’t see it that way. “Well, it’s nice seeing you out of your studio,” Sebastian says with slight, petty emphasis in an attempt to get Kurt to correct himself.

He doesn’t.

Kurt’s first thought is to come back with, ‘Don’t get used to it,’ but he can’t. He has to remember that he’s supposed to be trying. He promised he’d try.

“Thanks,” Kurt says instead. A long silence stretches between them, but those have ceased to become awkward. It’s a consequence of them learning how to communicate with one another again. When they first met in their teens, they had such similar temperaments, which made talking (and insulting) one another simpler. But nowadays Kurt is more prone to flying off the handle, and in response, Sebastian has become submissive, more likely to roll over and expose his belly than instigate a fight.

Kurt hates that. It might be easier for him to decide what he wants to do – stay or go – if Sebastian hadn’t begun to change. But Sebastian’s adjusting to Kurt, so Kurt only has himself to blame.

Then again, cheater, so …

“Was there something you wanted to ask me?” Kurt says while focusing on his drawing, deciding in what ways the layout he created matches the layout of the actual room.

“Uh, yeah.” Sebastian steps in, but not closer to Kurt. He’s simply occupying a similar vicinity. “I wanted to know … do you need me here this afternoon? To keep you company or anything? Because I thought I’d run some errands.”

Kurt doesn’t really give his husband’s question too much thought. He doesn’t know what he’d need Sebastian for if he stuck around. “No. I’ll be fine. You go ahead.”

“Okay. Did you need anything from outside?”

Another non-thought. “Nah. I’m all good here.”

“Do you … want to know where I’m going?”

Kurt stops pacing. Does he need to know? He has to learn to trust his husband again. If there’s no trust in their relationship, then this relationship is never going to work. And just this morning, Kurt promised to make a greater effort. Here’s Kurt’s chance to prove that he wants to. “That’s okay,” he says, waving Sebastian away. “You have fun.”

“Yeah. Right. Loads,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh and an audible eye-roll, neither of which Kurt seems to catch. “Oh, I peeked into your studio to see how things are coming along, and you still have the wallpaper up. I thought for sure that was the first thing you’d tear down.”

It would be if you weren’t hiding crap under it, Kurt thinks. He’s been wavering on his belief that Sebastian doesn’t know that word is there. He may not have put it there himself, but he could have gotten someone else to do it. He sent a colleague here - what was his name? - Tristan. He’d sent Tristan to the house to look it over. Facetimed with him, too. Kurt wouldn’t put it past Sebastian to tell the man to write it if he thought it would win Kurt back.

“I am. But I want to find a decent floor guy before I get started on the walls. That floor is a disaster. I’d like to do them both at roughly the same time. Minimize clean up.”

That wasn’t true at all. It was hard for Kurt to take the plunge. He wants the room to be perfect, but considering his design, he’s apprehensive to see what it will look like when it’s done.

“Is that the sketch of my office?” Sebastian has gotten closer, step by step while Kurt paced, without Kurt noticing.

“Maybe,” Kurt mumbles, changing direction.

“Can I see it?”

Kurt curls his sketchbook towards his chest. He had erased everything he had added to make it unique, to give it a bit of Kurt Hummel flair. But after having the night to think it over, he feels he copped out. But if Sebastian looks at this bland drawing and loves it, Kurt will realize that writing himself out of the picture might be what Sebastian wants. “Not yet. It’s not ready.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, then his eyes. “Wh-what if you don’t like it?”

Sebastian cocks his head, smiling at the worry on Kurt’s face. It’s nice to know that his husband still cares what he thinks. “That’s not too reassuring, going into this project assuming I won’t like it.”

“But what if you don’t?”

Sebastian doesn’t want to answer that. It sounds too much like a test, and Sebastian’s too afraid of failing any more of those. “You know, I’m not even considering that a possibility because I know I’ll love it.”

It annoys Kurt that Sebastian didn’t answer the question, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. But the blank, disaffected face he makes instead, his default face for anything that falls between sadness and anger, Sebastian can’t stand.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go do my thing,” Sebastian says. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kurt nods, returning his attention to his sketch. “Take your time.”

***

Kurt remembers talking to Sebastian that morning before Sebastian left, but he doesn’t realize Sebastian’s gone until he’s been gone for hours. Loneliness seeps into his skin all the way to his bones. Kurt feels his chest tighten, and hears a ringing in his ears in place of conversation. Kurt doesn’t have a problem being alone, he just doesn’t do it well. This house is not the best place to be alone, he’s begun to realize. It’s steeped in spirits. Kurt can hear them in the wood when the house creaks, talking to one another in the eaves when the wind blows. Kurt doesn’t mind ghosts – he has plenty of his own - as long as they leave him alone. But these ghosts are beginning to discover that he’s there, and they’re trying to get his ghosts to come out and play.

He’s thankful he’s not back home, alone in the penthouse. After Grace died, their home filled with a brand of silence that Kurt never got used to. It was cruel, held memories of laughter and jokes and singing that would never again be heard within those walls. Kurt tried to bring it back by watching old home videos, but he couldn’t stand it for too long. It was too painful.

With the specters of this new house closing in around him by way of lengthening shadows across the floors, he didn’t enjoy being stuck in this silence either. Would he ever be able to handle being alone again? Why couldn’t he exist by himself in his own flesh for longer than a few hours? He tries putting on music, runs upstairs to find something on his iPod that he can blast throughout the whole house, noise ordinances be damned, but nothing he finds helps. Every song he knows, every playlist he has, has a connection in one way or another to someone he’s lost – his mother, his stepbrother, his father, Grace … and Sebastian. Kurt’s about to switch to radio and settle on a Spanish station when he hears the front door open and shut.

“Kur-rt. I brought you desser-rt,” Sebastian calls, crossing through the empty living room to the kitchen and setting a bakery box on the table. “Something I know you’ve been missing.”

The silence broken, the ghosts go back into hiding, and Kurt’s relieved to have Sebastian home.

That’s why he needed him, Kurt thinks with a mental scoff. To keep the ghosts away. Shit. That makes Sebastian damn near invaluable.

“Really?” Kurt asks. He ventures down the steps, intrigued. He sees Sebastian open the lid and his eyes light up. “Cheesecake?” he gasps. “You bought me a cheesecake?”

“Yup,” Sebastian says, going into the cabinet for plates.

“Where the heck did you find cheesecake out here in the boonies?”

“Kurt, we haven’t left civilization, you know. They have a mall out here. It even has a Nordies.”

“Well, thank heavens for small favors.” Kurt doesn’t wait for a slice, digging out a piece with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. He doesn’t chew. He doesn’t have to. The cream cheese goodness melts on his tongue. He closes his eyes and sighs. Yes siree. That’s the good stuff.  When Sebastian doesn’t give up the name of the bakery, Kurt takes a peek at the lid. If there’s a place anywhere near them that sells cheesecake this heavenly, Kurt’s going to send Sebastian there every day. But when Kurt flips the lid down and sees teal writing against white paperboard, he doesn’t have to read it. He’s seen this box a hundred times before. “You got this … from Renaldi’s? You went … you went into the city?”

Sebastian puts the plates down on the table gently so they don’t clatter. He doesn’t go back for the forks. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Sebastian had picked the cheesecake up on a whim. He didn’t have an ulterior motive other than he wanted Kurt to have something nice to bring him out of his funk. It hadn’t hit Sebastian until close to home what he had done. He contemplated stopping off somewhere and getting a plain box to replace the custom one, or pitching the cheesecake altogether, but he didn’t want to keep any more secrets from Kurt.

He was in a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.

“You … you didn’t tell me you were going into the city.”

“I asked you if you wanted to know where I was going, and you said no,” Sebastian points out.

Sebastian’s answer isn’t an answer. It’s a loophole. A fucking loophole!

Kurt wants to pick up a chair and throw it.

“I had some quick, last minute business to attend to,” Sebastian explains, the last resort of a drowning man who’s sunk his own ship. He knows he fucked up. Now he has to keep his head above water long enough to swim to shore. “You know, tie up some loose ends.”

“A-ha.” Kurt crosses his arms. “Did you go to wrap up loose ends, or did you go to see him?”

Sebastian has to physically stop himself from retaliating, keep the dozen bitter comments that rush to his tongue from firing. Kurt may have built up walls, but Sebastian doesn’t. He forgoes walls entirely in favor of weapons – insults, sarcastic remarks, low blows. They may do nothing to break down Kurt’s walls, but that was never their purpose. They’re there to inflict pain. But Sebastian doesn’t want to do that. He can’t do that. “Actually, I went to see her.”

Kurt’s face goes from red with anger to pale and sick. He suddenly feels sweaty, like he might throw up. “You … you went to see Grace … without me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to go with me.”

“But you didn’t even ask me!”

“I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing an amazing job there!”

“I’m trying to be the good guy, Kurt!” Sebastian says, begging Kurt to see reason, to see his side just once. “I’m doing everything you want! I’m giving you your space!”

“This is different and you know it!” Kurt cries. “We swore we’d never go without each other! You promised!”

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I am. But I … I needed a moment with her alone.”

“Are you sure it’s her you needed a moment alone with? Are you sure you’re not using her as an elaborate excuse?”

Sebastian stares at Kurt as if he punched him in the face, rammed him in the stomach, and kicked him in the balls. “Kurt, that’s not fair.”

“Right.” Kurt hugs himself tight, feeling vitriol rise up inside him and embracing the temporary rush. “I’m the one who’s not being fair. You’re breaking promises left and right and I’m not being fair!?”

“Kurt, I’m trying to do what you want, I swear. I’m trying to fix things!”

“You don’t fix things by keeping secrets from me!”

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore, Kurt! You’re so wrapped up in your own depression, in your anger towards me that you seem to forget …” Sebastian pinches his lips shut, which makes Kurt curious as hell. He’s never seen his husband slam to a stop in the middle of an argument like that before.

“Forget what?” Kurt says. “Go ahead. Come out and say it.”

Sebastian’s jaw doesn’t loosen when he talks. “That you’re not the only one here who lost a daughter. I lost one, too. The only difference is that now I’m losing a husband as well.”

“Losing?” Kurt laughs at the gall of that statement. “You didn’t lose me. It’s not like I wandered off alone, or you forgot where you put me. You tossed me aside! You stepped out on me! I needed you! I needed you to need me, I needed us to grieve together, and you went to someone else! You don’t get to blame me for that!”

Sebastian takes a breath to calm down. “I know, Kurt,” he says, letting the breath go. “I know. I’m ...”

“You’re what? You’re sorry? Saying you’re sorry without changing things doesn’t fix them! Sorry without action is just a word! And it’s one I’m getting tired as hell of hearing.” Kurt storms away from the table, blowing through the living room to the staircase with Sebastian following behind.

“Kurt! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to work on my studio,” Kurt declares, racing up the stairs.

“But … but what about the cheesecake?” Sebastian asks, grasping at straws to make Kurt rethink himself and stay.

“You eat it. I’m not hungry.” Kurt gets to the top landing and stops. There’s something he’s about to say, buzzing at the tip of his tongue, but he has to ask himself - is he going to say it just to hurt Sebastian? Or is this what he truly believes? Either way, it makes an entrance before Kurt has the chance to stop it. “You know what? You might want to hire a decorator to do your office.”

“What?” Sebastian gasps like Kurt tore out his heart. “But … b-but why?”

“Because I think you were right the first time,” Kurt says, knowing that this is the truth – a heartbreaking truth. “We need our own spaces.” Kurt sees his husband’s face drop, every inch of hope on it crumbling away, and even though Kurt’s mad at him, he can’t leave him that way. “At least … we do for now.”

Kurt marches down the hallway and into his studio, but he doesn’t close the door behind him. He hears Sebastian in the living room. Or, more to the point, Kurt doesn’t hear him, not for a while. Sebastian remains at the bottom step, staring upward in disbelief, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. But it’s not long after that Kurt hears stomping across the bottom level, followed by the loud scrape and angry splat of what has to be a cheesecake flying off the kitchen table and hitting the floor.

***

Kurt glares at the walls of his studio, at the floors, and his sketchbook - the top page showing the plans he’s made, plans he’s putting off - and decides enough is enough. No more waiting. He needs to jump in with both feet. That’s what Sebastian does. He doesn’t consider consequences. He just does what he wants. And who tells him no? No one. No one ever tells him no. No one tells him to wait, or he can’t, or he shouldn’t. No one except Kurt. But Kurt’s opinion doesn’t matter. When Kurt says no, Sebastian always finds a way around.

Loopholes.

“You should have known better than to marry a lawyer, babe,” he’d say, and then he’d laugh like it’s so funny. Like it’s such a big fucking joke. A big fucking joke with Kurt as the big fucking punchline.

They had made a pact, and to Kurt, that pact was sacred. But Sebastian doesn’t seem to know the meaning of that word. Their vows were sacred, too, but he found a loophole around those. Apparently grief gives a person carte blanche. Kurt wishes he’d known that was how it worked. Maybe he could have found solace between another man’s legs and chalked it up to grief, too.

But Kurt wouldn’t have even if he could have. That’s not the man he is.

So what does he have? What vices does he get to fall back on? Nothing. He’s never been a vice kind of guy. In all his life, he’s gotten drunk about four times, gotten one piercing (that he took out two days later), and one lame tattoo. And even though he’s standing in the center of a bridge between repairing his marriage and leaving his husband, he can’t bring himself to indulge in one revenge fuck that, by all rights, he’s entitled to.

Well, he’s had it! No more emotional manipulation, no more secrets! Kurt’s not a teenager anymore, sitting on a block of ice, watching Sebastian fuck everything on two legs, waiting in the wings because Sebastian says he’s unsure of his feelings even though he claims he fell in love with Kurt the moment he laid eyes on him.

No more living in fear that one day Kurt won’t be good enough, handsome enough, exciting enough, daring enough (even though those thoughts were Kurt’s and Kurt’s alone – he recognizes that) and Sebastian will leave him for someone else.

Kurt’s living that reality now, even if it was just the one night. In Kurt’s eyes, that should imbue him with a certain amount of freedom, but he feels locked down even tighter. Sebastian cheated on him and yet the burden seems to be on Kurt to make things better. Sebastian says he’s trying to fix things, but Kurt’s the one who’s expected to give him the time to do that.

Sebastian takes, takes, takes, and Kurt gives in.

But no more. No more slip-ups in the name of grief. No more white lies shadowing half-truths. No more, no more, no more!

It’s about time that Kurt starts rebuilding, and in order to do that, he needs to tear something apart other than himself.

And Kurt knows exactly where he wants to start.

His eyes zero in on the torn corner of wallpaper. He barrels up to it, grabs the edge, and tugs. He meets resistance, the glue adhering the paper to the wall much stronger than Kurt anticipated. It’s difficult to hold on to with just his fingers, and it doesn’t want to come down without a fight.

“So you’re not going to go easy, are you? Well, fuck you, then!” He steps back and yanks hard. With a final tug that nearly sprains his wrist, the piece vised between Kurt’s fingers tears free. The corner scores along the seam of the window frame with a dull noise, like linen rending instead of paper, and then snaps free, sending Kurt stumbling back about five steps. Breathing heavy, Kurt looks at the piece of wallpaper in his hand, the word darling printed in reverse on the opposite side, which should tell his rational brain that Sebastian, or Tristan, couldn’t have written it. It had to be underneath the wallpaper when it went up on the wall. Judging by the texture of the paper, the fact that there’s more than one layer of paper fused together, and the pebbly remains of the glue underneath, that couldn’t have been recently. Kurt’s done enough renovations to know that, but he doesn’t care. Whatever this is, he’s determined to blame Sebastian for it, because the fault lies with him. Everything that’s gone wrong in their lives thus far is his fault … his fault! And now Kurt has to pay the price. Kurt crumples the piece of wallpaper in his hands, digging his nails into it until a sharp edge of folded paper digs into his palm. He finally looks at the wall, ready to read whatever else Sebastian had the gall to hide underneath this paper because logic and reason don’t live here anymore. Only hate.

And Kurt’s ready to hate Sebastian more.

But when Kurt sees the writing revealed by the torn paper, his mouth drops open.

What’s underneath the wallpaper isn’t just words. It’s a love letter, like Kurt suspected.

Except, it’s not a letter to Kurt.

And it wasn’t written by Sebastian.

To my darling, my beloved, the love of my life,

I pray every day that things were different between us, that I could be where you are, that I can do more than just send you letters. I want to see your smiling face, touch your hand. I want to know in no uncertain terms that you love me. You tell me you do, but I miss hearing your voice. With every minute that passes, I lose hope that we’ll finally be together. Please tell me you’re still willing to wait for me? I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.

Forever yours, I shall remain –

Blaine

Kurt reads the letter to himself, then once again out loud. He looks at the tear in the wallpaper and sees more words, more letters hidden underneath. They’re not written on the wall. They’re paper letters glued to the wall that were covered up by the wallpaper … several layers of wallpaper, since underneath this top cover is a red rose paisley, followed by a plain seafoam green, and a cream with gold filigree; at least seven individual layers that Kurt can see, as if someone went to great lengths to cover up these letters … and forget about them.

His anger from earlier momentarily forgotten, Kurt reaches up and traces over the name with his fingertips.

“Blaine,” he whispers, narrowing his eyelids. “Who are you, Blaine?”

[ralphmorgan-blog1]

League of Gentlemen stars reunite in Royston Vasey

Image caption The League of Gentlemen ran for three TV series and was made into a film and a stage show

"Welcome to Royston Vasey. You'll never leave." That sign greeted visitors to The League of Gentlemen's fictional home town. And it's proving true for the cult sketch show's creators, who have been drawn back there for three Christmas specials after more than a decade away.

Mark Gatiss has a grey dressing gown over a bare chest, and is wearing a long ginger wig. Reece Shearsmith is next to him in blue and white striped pyjamas.

It's daytime and the League of Gentlemen co-stars are in a meeting room in central Manchester. But they are dressed like this because they've just come from Royston Vasey.

Or, rather, they've just come from another part of the building, where the show's sets have been recreated for three new episodes - 15 years after the last series ended.

Their co-star Steve Pemberton is in the meeting room doing press interviews too, as is League of Gentlemen co-creator and co-writer Jeremy Dyson.

Image caption Edward and Tubbs have survived to appear in the first photo from the new specials

Gatiss, Shearsmith and Pemberton are taking a break from filming a scene as the Dentons, the strange, strict family who are obsessed with toads and bathroom habits.

Gatiss, who is also known for writing and acting in Doctor Who and Sherlock, and for roles in Game of Thrones and Gunpowder, says they had no trouble slipping back into the characters that made them famous.

"I thought it would take us a couple of days just to get back into the swing of it, and it didn't," he says.

Image caption Legz Akimbo - seen here in series two - are returning to warn children about stranger danger

The first new scene they shot was as Legz Akimbo, the cringeworthy school drama troupe, using real pupils as extras.

"We had a group of 60 kids who didn't know the characters, obviously, because they were all 15-year-olds," Pemberton says.

"And we bounded out. Mark started doing a rap all about stranger danger with his baseball cap on, and I was standing in the wings watching him.

"I just had this big smile on my face thinking, I can't believe we're back here doing this."

Image caption Papa Lazarou: "You're my wife now, Dave"

During three award-winning TV series, a film and a stage show, the twilight zone of Royston Vasey was home to a collection of sinister, twisted and wickedly funny characters, including:

The grotesque Tubbs and Edward, fiercely protective of their "local shop for local people", who warned unfortunate visitors "we'll have no trouble here"

Demonic carnival ringmaster Papa Lazarou, who kidnapped women, calling them all Dave and telling them "you're my wife now"

Sadistic pen-pushing Job Centre trainer Pauline and her loyal trainee Mickey

Hilary Briss, the butcher who sold illicit, addictive and unspecified meat known as his "special stuff"

Herr Lipp, the German schoolmaster whose poor English skills and predilection for teenage boys threw up lots of double entendres

The co-stars have reunited for the 20th anniversary of two things - winning the Perrier, the top comedy award at the Edinburgh Fringe, and their first national exposure with a series on BBC Radio 4.

The League of Gentlemen were last seen on tour in 2005, after which they decided to take time off. But the quartet didn't fall out and often worked together on other projects.

"There was never any unpleasantness or any acrimony," Dyson says.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption Left-right: Reece Shearsmith, Steve Pemberton, Mark Gatiss and Jeremy Dyson at the premiere of the League of Gentlemen film in 2005

After enjoying successful post-League careers, they wanted to see what had become of Royston Vasey.

"The lovely thing is it's born of wanting to do it not having to do it," Gatiss says of the comeback. "We're not wanting to feel like a '90s band going back on the road, like Bros or something.

"We've had a really good laugh. You have to be relaxed to feel funny - to feel that you can just do what you like."

Fans will have high expectations, but Shearsmith says the scripts "sort of poured out of us" and they avoided getting "trapped in the headlights of the enormity of what it could be".

Which is just as well, given that Shane Allen, the BBC's controller of comedy commissioning, has added to the pressure by describing them as "the most original, distinct and influential writer-performers since Monty Python".

Image caption Steve Pemberton as Pauline, the matriarch of Royston Vasey Job Centre

Pemberton says: "There's always pressure going back to something.

"I remember reading an article with John Cleese where he said the longer ago something was, people remember the best bits and they edit out all the boring bits of Monty Python or Fawlty Towers, so in peoples' heads it becomes a highlights show."

So fans will be expecting the specials to live up to what's in their heads.

"All the episodes of The League of Gentlemen had great moments, and what we've tried to do in these specials is give as many characters those special great moments over three episodes as possible," Pemberton adds.

The specials will pick up with the Dentons and the other characters 15 years on.

"Part of the main story arc is about Royston Vasey now and how it's even further in decline than it was before," Shearsmith says.

Gatiss bats away a suggestion that the comeback was inspired by Brexit. In October 2016, he told BBC 6 Music he had an idea for a Brexit theme because Britain had "become a local country for local people".

Image caption Mark Gatiss plays sinister butcher Hilary Briss

At the TV studio, he simply says: "The people of Royston Vasey are so strange, many of them can't vote, can't eat, can't see.

"I wouldn't like to presume the politics of Royston Vasey. It's a weird bunch of strange people roped together for a concept."

In the three new episodes, local residents will rise up to battle "administrative annihilation" after boundary changes threaten to wipe the town off the map.

In showing us how the town and its inhabitants have changed, the specials could also tell us something about how public tastes and humour have altered in the last 15 years.

Some of the old characters feel like they would sit uneasily in a modern show. For instance, the deep-voiced, high-heeled taxi driver Barbara, who jokes about having what we now call gender affirmation surgery.

'We stand by all those characters'

"Certain things that we would make jokes about are now more difficult areas, and we've tackled that head on," Pemberton says.

But he adds: "Even the original series, there's nothing in there now where we go: 'God I wish we'd never done that' or 'that makes me a bit uncomfortable'.

"I think we can stand by all those characters because they're rounded characters."

In the age of social media, the reaction to Papa Lazarou - played by Shearsmith with a blacked-up face - could perhaps be more swift and vocal than anything they dealt with first time around.

Pemberton pre-empts any outrage by insisting the character "was clearly not a thing about race - it never was".

Social media age

"Someone could create a whole campaign taking that out of context," he says. "This is something that we'll have to deal with because now we're doing the shows in the Twitter age and we never were at the time.

"We're confident in our characters and we feel they're rounded characters and we're not trying to upset anyone."

After these three specials, The League of Gentlemen's four members will escape Royston Vasey again - for a while at least.

But, as they talk about their affection for their characters and each other, it sounds like they'll never truly leave.

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