NEVER LET YOU GO
Forget This Might Hurt, I am completely fucking obsessed with how the Alpha Pack is apparently there to lure Derek into their pack, with, I don’t know, I assume beautiful ladies who are into murder (Derek’s canonical sexual orientation) all Deucalion leaning an elbow against the bar in a way that his shirt pulls across his chest, all heavy-lidded stare and half smile (DON’T GET ME STARTED ON DEUCALION, EVERYONE, MY CANONICAL SEXUAL ORIENTATION HAS BECOME: GROSS SMIRKY TRASHBALL JERKWADS, UGH, I’m going to be so turned off if Deucalion turns out to be a handsome reasonable person who would never inappropriately touch someone but LET’S BE REAL, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT?) Anyhow, Deucalion is all, just give into your destiny, Derek, and clearly there are tons of weird coercive you-know-you’re-just-a-SLUT-you-know-you-want-it-why-do-you-dress-like-that-then-slut-whore-bitch undertones and people touching Derek and Derek trying hard not to flinch while Deucalion tells him all about how he can’t escape it, just accept that all you are is a super hot Alpha with cool stubble we’re all just going to hang out for HOURS squinting sexily and being beautiful people and wearing tight t-shirts and leather and seducing high school students and I have to assume the conflict is that Derek has learned that there’s more to life than being really, really, ridiculously good-looking and that seducing high school students may seem like a great fucking plan but it only ends in heartbreak, MY POINT IS:
It’s not like Scott isn’t allowed to have other friends; Stiles isn’t a jealous weirdo, they hashed out the whole Isaac thing months ago, so it’s fucking bullshit that Scott still feels like he has to lie to him, a weirdly specific obviously planned lie, because Scott had said he was meeting up with Derek to have some ultra boring, awkward information exchange but is instead is sliding into a booth at Patsy’s Pizza across from a guy in a sweatshirt with a hole in the elbow just like the one Stiles lost at Scott’s house six months ago, and HEY—and that’s the moment that the guy looks up from the menu and shoves the hood back off his head and it’s Derek.
Up close, it’s worse. The sweatshirt was always huge on Stiles; he’d picked it out of the station Lost-and-Found one night when it had started to rain, shoved the too-long sleeves up and never given it back. It’s big on Derek too, drooping sloppily off his shoulders. He’s wearing a crumpled up grandpa-checked button-down under it and a couple t-shirts underneath that, collars overlapping. The hems of his jeans are chewed up, grimy, and he’s wearing untied sneakers, mud-stained old Nikes.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Stiles says, shoving in next to Scott.
“Stiles,” Derek says, resigned.
“Yup,” Stiles says.
They’re halfway through an extra large mushroom and sausage pizza before Derek finally comes out with it.
“That is grossly insulting,” Stiles says. Derek is munching stolidly on a slice of pizza, staring down at the table. “And moreover—yeah, moreover, deal with it—it will never work—“
“They think I’m a—a certain way,” Derek says. There’s a smudge of grease on his lower lip. His hair is flattened on one side of his head, like he pulled the strings of the sweatshirt tight and fell asleep like that. “And I’m not, so—“
“Oh my fucking god,” Stiles says. “Wearing like seven layers of clothing is not going to stop people from noticing that you have a super hot body and a beautiful face—“
“Works for you,” Derek says, matter-of-factly. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of the sweatshirt, which should be disgusting, and, annoyingly, isn’t.
“What?” Stiles says. Derek meets his eyes.
“Nothing,” he says.
“Are you gonna eat that?” Scott says, pointing to the last slice, like Derek’s not acting like he’s lost his mind. Derek shrugs, and pushes the pan towards him.
“I’m gonna go on the record and say that this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, a dumb plan that’s going to end in disaster,” Stiles announces.
“The seer, she—” Stiles stopped, swallowing.
“What,” Derek said. The edge of Stiles’ face was gilded in the warm glow of the lamp; there were blue-black smudges under his eyes. “She warned us that you’d do something crazy,” he said, voice low.
“Then she also said you wouldn’t be able to stop me,” Derek said.
“Yeah,” Stiles said, voice breaking. “But you don’t have to be alone.”
“Oh,” Derek said, a soft, punched-out noise in the back of his throat. Their eyes met, electric in the contact. They didn’t touch. Finally Derek turned away and picked up the long, gleaming blade. He drew in a breath, head bowed; made the first cut in silence.
“We could have had everything,” Deucalion shouted. He threw a brutal punch into Derek’s chest and Derek staggered, dropped to his knees in the pitted, muddy road. Deucalion kept coming, slapping his clawed-hand across Derek’s face, leaving livid trails of blood from his temple to the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll never give them up,” Derek said, his voice hollowed-out, weak, triumphant.
“I would have been your brother,” Deucalion said, chest heaving, his face a mask of rage and pain. “But you—“
“Jorts,” Derek whispered, taunting. Deucalion’s roar of anger broke open the skies.
Costume Design: T. Hoechlin. Wardrobe Supervisor: T. Hoechlin. Wardrobe Consultant: T. Hoechlin. Costume Buyer: T. Hoechlin. Jorts: T. Hoechlin by T. Hoechlin.
So Many Things He Could Do
word count: ~2,400
rating: nothing they wouldn’t be able to air on FOX
summary: Blaine struggles to deal with some crushing news and how it might reshape the future he wants. Kurt shares a little secret he’s been keeping for almost a year. Everything works out.
author’s notes: This is a lot of gratuitous headcanon about how Kurt has felt all along, why he isn’t with Adam, and what might prevent Blaine from going through with a proposal. I could call this speculation fic for the season finale, since it’s compliant with all the spoilers I’ve read, but I don’t honestly think there’s a chance in hell of anything like this happening. At least we have a few days left to dream.
Blaine noses feebly at Kurt’s sharp collarbone, presses his damp face into the long curve of Kurt’s throat, and tries to compose himself enough to speak.
Oh my god a Teen Wolf as Music and Lyrics AU this is making my life and Scott is the crazy sister I think I’m about to cry laughing
HIS PASSWORD IS DEREK HOW DID I NOT SEE THAT COMING??
This is Courtney’s fault, and I’ve been meaning to do this forever. Anyway, enjoy~
When the bell above the door rang, Blaine didn’t even bother to look up.
“One moment!” Blaine called, not looking up from the paperwork he was flipping through. Blaine didn’t really understand how to do taxes too well yet, but collecting files and paper work so Burt could teach him properly was an easy enough task…or at least he thought it would have been. But as he flipped through all these papers that looked exactly the same Blaine was questioning his sanity.
The bell on the desk was rung, “Just one second, I’m just trying to-” Blaine’s words died on his lips as he took in the customer who had just walked into Hummel Tire and Lube. There, around the other side of the desk, was Hunter Carrington. Now, Hunter didn’t intimidate Blaine. He didn’t scare him…or at least, he didn’t used to. But the way Hunter stood before him now, the way his eyes were trained on Blaine, reflecting this completely…unhinged look…it was actually pretty scary. “Hunter.” He said without a thought.
“Blaine.” Hunter said slowly, looking Blaine up and down like a hunter taking in it’s prey.
i pride myself on being able to read nc-17 pornography with a completely straight face in the middle of a crowded room, but you give me one cute line and my face starts spasming, not even SMILING, but like a tiny man is standing inside my mouth punching my cheeks with his tiny man hands.
Dorothy and Alice
“It was all sort of odd, you know,” Alice says pensively, balancing the teacup on her saucer. Picnics are all well and good until you’re forced to walk all the way back to school with a rapidly cooling wet patch on the front of your skirt.
“That is, I believe,” Dorothy says, “rather a prerequisite for journeys to other worlds. Of course, I could be wrong.”
Alice sighs heavily. “Must you always be so literal? I didn’t mean the going there, or the being there, or even Wonderland itself. It was only that I felt so queer once I got back.”
Dorothy hums thoughtfully, reaching over to scratch at the top of Toto’s head. (Technically, of course, pets aren’t allowed at school, but they’d hardly let something as little as a rule stop them.) “Like everything was somehow…less, here?” she says. “That’s how I felt, sort of.”
“No,” Alice says, a little surprised. She brushes a stray bit of hair out of her eyes, tucking it back behind her headband and thinking hard. “Not at all, actually. It was like I was somehow more.”
Dorothy reaches over to steal a sip of tea, lifting the cup out of Alice’s hands and setting it down again after making a face. “That’s gone cold, you know,” she says. “You really ought to drink it faster.”
Alice rolls her eyes. “If I did, I wouldn’t have any left for you to take.”
“That’s true,” Dorothy says easily. “Anyway, isn’t it all sort of the same thing?” When Alice frowns at her, she adds, “The world being less or you being more, I mean. I think you sort of end up in the same place either way.”
“Maybe,” Alice says, taking her own sip of—stone cold, it’s true—tea. “But I think there’s something to be said for perspective, don’t you?”
“Probably,” Dorothy admits. “Though I will say, if one more teacher sits me down to have a gentle talk about glasses being half full or empty, I shall scream.”
“And I would support you in that,” Alice says loyally. “I should scream with you, if you wanted me to.”
Dorothy laughs. “Only if you feel a truly desperate urge,” she says. “And I hope you know I would do the same for you.” She sighs. “Still, it’s not my fault if they think I have a bad attitude. I can’t help it if I’m always wondering whether the teachers actually know anything about the things they’re telling us.”
“Well, it’s not as if you can tell them that you’ve been to a country where the man in charge is lying about his qualifications,” Alice says, and giggles. “Only think of the looks on their faces.”
Dorothy laughs too, but she sobers up quickly when they hear a bell ringing in the distance. “Ugh,” she says with feeling. “We’ve History next, and that always makes me feel as if someone’s stuffed wool between my ears.”
“Perhaps they have,” Alice says, finishing off her tea and packing it away. “Come along, Chester,” she coos, picking up her cat while Dorothy grabs the basket.
“I don’t see why you didn’t just call him Cheshire,” Dorothy says as they start off back to the school.
Alice shrugs. “I think it would have made me feel sad, knowing that he wasn’t,” she says, and Dorothy nods in understanding.
“By the way,” she says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you met the new girl?”
Alice frowns. “You mean what’s-her-name? Susan something?”
“Pevensie,” Dorothy says eagerly, nodding. “I think we ought to ask her to lunch with us.”
“Really?” Alice says, surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought it of her.”
“I can’t be sure, of course,” Dorothy says. “But I got a sort of funny feeling off of her. She’s certainly worth a look, at any rate.”
“Well, then,” Alice says, delightedly. “Look we shall.”
It’s been two years, six months, and seven days since Kurt last saw Blaine in person. Since then he’s tried to remember the way Blaine’s arms had felt wrapped around him that last time, the way he’d cried into Kurt’s shoulder and whispered, so scared and broken but yet still so strong, still like that rock that Kurt has been leaning on for so long now that it’s become the solid, immovable foundation in his life, “I’m never saying goodbye to you.” Echoing Kurt’s words from years past, he’d laughed and Kurt had squeezed him tighter; he’d said, “I’m coming back home, I promise.”
And Kurt, wiping his eyes as they’d parted, smiled. It had been crooked, off-center, and somehow it hadn’t felt right; it’d been too lighthearted for the situation, for the danger both of them had known that Blaine had been going into. He’d said, swallowing hard so his voice wouldn’t wobble like a top about to fall over, “You’d better. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to calling you my husband.”
Blaine had left, and now Kurt is alone, small and shivering in an emptiness he’d long ago forgotten.
Hashtags (Ensemble, Santana, Rachel, Kurt/Blaine, PG-13)
I’m dedicating this to Jenn, Scarlett, and Asia because they told me to post this and I can never resist when my friends tell me to post stuff. I have absolutely no excuse for this. Also, this is kinda-sort-maybe-not really a fusion with The New Normal, if only because I borrowed the show ‘Sing’ for this story.
Summary: When Kurt Hummel gets upset over the latest (lack of) developments regarding his Sing OTP, he rages about it on Twitter. Too bad for Kurt that he seems to be the only one oblivious to how it parallels his own relationship…
Note: Just a heads up that the first part of this is formatted to resembled a Twitter feed. The second half is written in a normal style.
I have absolutely no idea what’s wrong with James and Parker. They are SOULMATES and yet they’re still so //stupid//
@jarkerforever WAIT WHAT HAPPENED KURT. I MISSED THE EPISODE????????
@jarkerforever @thesuperioranderson PARKER SANG “ELEPHANT LOVE MEDLEY” WITH JAMES IN CENTRAL PARK. It was //SO// romantic and cute! :D :D :D
bring back klaine @dontcallmenoah
@aaacrawford no he does NOT want to get coffee with you tmrw gordon ramsey!!! STOP RUINING MY OTP YOU FUCKING LEECH