I Need an Ending
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Hello! My name's Jerie, and I am a ship whore. I have lost control of my life ever since I read CP Coulter's Dalton. And this is basically just a dump site for all the word vomit and flailing caused by that fic.

Disclaimer: All the characters in my stories are owned by CP Coulter, unless stated otherwise. Also, this is simply a side blog. I can't follow anyone on here.


Blaine/Jude. Is this a thing? This totally has to be a thing.


 It’s raining that afternoon.

It’s a cold, wet, drizzle—Blaine’s favorite sort that gets him wet without chilling him to the bone. It’s enough to send everyone inside during lunch, though, so it’s quiet except for the pitter-patter of the water on the ground and… what sounds like the quick clickof someone’s camera shutter.

Blaine sets his packed lunch down on the bleachers and turns to his side, bangs falling across his eyes. He sees Jude, crouched down next to a patch of dandelions, his outfit just as dark and wet as Blaine’s.

“Jude!” the brunet calls out to him. “You sure you should be out here? Isn’t that bad for your camera?”

It’s a breath or two before he moves. Blaine almost shakes his head, almost yells at him again—when Jude whips his head around and promptly snaps a picture of him.

“Hey!” Blaine cries, indignantly. “What the hell, man!”

“You look great, Blaine,” Jude says, looking at his camera. He stands then, and gives his friend a knowing smile. “The messy hair is a really good look for you.”

“Oh shut up, you,” Blaine says, running down the bleachers.

“You need to have more fun, you know that?” Jude stoops down and picks a couple of dandelions out of the grass. “Here.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine takes the dandelion and watches as Jude tucks his behind his ear.

“Ahhh, are you seeing someone?” Blaine asks suddenly.

Jude stares at him. “Sorry?”

“I said,” Blaine says slowly, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Not that I know of,” Jude grins.

“Then you’ve put it behind the wrong ear,” Blaine explains. “It has to go on the left if you’re available, and right if you’re with someone. Come here.”

The brunet reaches out his free hand to pluck the dandelion from its place, when Jude grabs his wrist halfway.

“Keep it there,” he says.

“But it’s in the wrong ear!” Blaine exclaims.

Jude lets go off his wrist, then starts playing with his camera lens. “What if I told you that it isn’t?” he replies, smiling shyly to himself.

“Oh,” Blaine says, dumbfounded. “But I thought you said—.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Jude clarifies. “But rather… I like someone, and it’s not like I’m making myself available to anyone else.”

“You like someone?” Blaine asks, trying not to appear too crestfallen.

“Mhhm,” Jude hums contentedly. “And what about you?”


“Yeah,” he says, eyeing the dandelion in Blaine’s hand. “You like anyone?”

Blaine looks up sharply. “I’m not… it isn’t… I’m not sure if he reciprocates.”

“Well then,” Jude says tentatively. “Can I have that?” he continues. He doesn’t wait for an answer and plucks the dandelion from Blaine’s hand.

“What…?” Blaine begins, looking at him, confused.

Jude simply smiles warmly at him. Then, very slowly, he places the dandelion behind Blaine’s right ear.


“There you go,” Jude says, tucking a stray curl behind Blaine’s ear. “Now about that other guy…” he begins cheekily.

“Forget it.” Blaine smiles, despite himself. “It isn’t a problem anymore.”

His hands are shaking, but certainly not from the cold. They’re creeping around Jude’s chest before finally settling on the curve of his waist, but it still startles him when Jude leans forward to plant their lips together.


It’s raining during the funeral.

It’s a cold, wet, drizzle—the sort that gets everyone wet without chilling them to the bone. It’s quiet except for the quick pitter-patter of the water on the grounds and slick footsteps against the grass as Blaine walks slowly forward and kneels in front of the newly placed tombstone.

Shane never does understand why his older brother leaves dandelions on Jude’s grave.

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