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.
I’ve got to ask, is anyone willing to kill off a couple of characters with me?
I saw this challenge on fanfiction.net and I have honestly been aching to do it. It’s basically an angsty fic for an OTP, a”who could kill who better” scenario. So if, for example, the pairing we agree on is Mine, then I get to kill Micah, and my partner in crime gets to kill Shane.
Send me a message if you’re interested!
If I find out that you ship Mine, I will automatically want to get to know you, and hug you, and take your hand so we can go off and cry over our beautiful, tragic ship together.
MINE your writing is perf ugh UGHShane, Micah begins unsteadily.
The point of his pen comes to an abrupt halt mere centimeters away from the tissue paper when it starts to tear. Micah sighs heavily, contemplates about setting his pen down, but ultimately decides against it. Then he starts again, his grip on the pen not as tight, his handwriting neat and solid, but almost impossible to read.
Shane, we’re flying above the city now, and all the bright lights remind me of you…
When Micah was younger, he believed that love was all about afternoon dates in the library and entwining your fingers loosely together where no one else could see. He believed that it comprised of passionate kisses shared in the middle of the night, and clumsily waltzing around in an empty auditorium with no music.
“One, two, step,” Shane repeats encouragingly, his eyes crinkling as he breaks into a large grin. “See? You’ve got it!”
Micah lets out a hearty laugh. He then leans down to place a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead, as his feet continue to glide almost effortlessly across the wooden stage.
The hardest part about growing up, he thinks, is realizing that love is not as simple as we so naively thought it would be. Because sometimes love is pictures torn apart and put back together too many times, and lonely nights in your room. It is sobs that wrack your body, trembles that force you to hold your knees to keep them still. It is the scars on your tongue from all the things you cannot, can never say.
“… it’s just that, I love him more.”
Micah gives a shaky nod of his head. He does not pout, will not let his grief or anger show in the curve of his eyebrows, the little twitch of his nose. He exhales through his nose quickly, quietly, before he bites at the side of his cheek and refuses to let himself think of what he’d do if he wasn’t as composed, or passive, or…
Shane takes Micah’s hands in his. That doesn’t do much to stop them from shaking. “Please,” he whispers brokenly, “say something.”
He thinks afterwards that should have said it then: I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, that it scares me. And I need you to understand, even after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve done…
But, at that moment, Micah says something else. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but he says it anyway. “Go.”
Shane looks anxiously up at him, his eyes wide. “What are you—?”
“Go to him,” Micah firmly elaborates.
After a beat, Shane’s expression softens in something like understanding.
“You should hurry,” Micah continues, extremely grateful that his voice sounds steadier than he actually feels. “He’ll be happy to see you.”
With all that he’s been through in the past couple of years, Micah has learned that when it comes down to it, love’s about how much you care. It’s about how much you will endure and how much you’re willing to forgive.
Because if you truly love someone, you’ll do whatever it takes to make them happy, even if you two don’t end up together.
“You sure you’ve got everything?” Erin asks Micah, before shooting a pointed look at Shane.
“Yeah,” Micah says. “Lay off him, Erin. He finally gave me back my passport.”
“I didn’t!” the younger Anderson protests. “You wrestled it out of my hands!”
“Desperate times?” Micah offers, cracking a smile—one that Shane does not return.
Blaine comes running to them, then, tells them that they’re going to miss their flight if they don’t hurry, and insists on taking Erin and Rebecca’s suitcases for them.
“I expect no funny business from you today, Blaine,” the red head warns him playfully. Blaine just laughs.
Micah picks up his own suitcase from the floor and is about to follow when he feels a sharp tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He turns around to see Shane looking at him, sporting a look Micah can’t quite place, his eyes big and brown and wet.
“You’ll keep in touch, yeah?” Shane asks.
Micah pulls the younger brunet into a hug. His voice is even smaller than Shane’s when he says, “Of course.”
“I know things weren’t—they didn’t—I mean, you didn’t—we didn’t—.” Shane exhales deeply, before letting out a grunt of frustration.
“Shh,” Micah says, as he rubs comforting circles on Shane’s back. “It’s okay.”
Shane stops talking for a moment. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, only to close it again when nothing comes out. For a few seconds, he settles with simply tightening his grip around Micah’s chest.
Then, “I just don’t want to lose you again.”
“Not again,” Micah promises. “Never again.”
That, at least, is something to hold on to. For both of them.
He boards the plane with Erin and Rebecca twenty minutes later. As he pulls his headphones over his ears and closes his eyes, Micah realizes that he’s not mad. He’s not bitter. He’s just tired.
blainewantsallthecocks answered: Mine getting each other for Fab Fiv secret santa
Erin wakes him early on Christmas morning, with a gratuitous phone call and a wave of giddy happiness that could rival that of a six year old’s. She tells him to arrive at the Anderson’s house a little before five, so he can work on the hot chocolate that he apparently has a knack for making.
“And don’t forget to bring your Secret Santa present,” the redhead reminds him.
toothbrush-thief answered your question:Fireplaces, with fluffy Mine?
“Hey, you wanna move closer to the fire?” Micah asked, several seconds into their embrace.
“No,” Shane answered, looking at him quizzically. “I’m good. Why?”
“It’s just… you’re holding me a lot tighter than you usually do,” Micah said.
ghostydiddy answered your question: Mine with Shane trying to find his present and Micah being clever and hiding it and fuff and also I love you
Merry Christmas, Gavin! I love you, too!
Micah wonders, vaguely, just somewhere at the back of his mind, if they’re seriously doing this, if he and Shane are really having a staring contest. It all just seems so… silly. But Shane absolutely refuses to back down because he wants an answer, and Micah can’t back down because it’s an answer he doesn’t want to give, so the two are at a standstill.
Micah’s eyes are starting to water, but he stubbornly denies them. He will not lose.
And even though Shane’s just as stubborn, he’s always had some trouble keeping still.
“You blinked,” Micah grins triumphantly. “I win.”
“That isn’t fair! It’s this stupid Santa hat, Micah!” Shane cries in protest. He roughly takes the hat off and tosses it aside. “Something got into my eye and it itched and it—it cheated!”
Shane points at the hat accusingly, just as Erin turns to peek at them from behind the couch.
“It’s not like you had to wear the Santa costume,” the redhead snorts. “Just take it off, Shane.”
Shane crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “I shan’t. It’s Christmas… eve.”
“But you’re giving Santa such a bad name, going around as miserable as you are,” Blaine says, from the living room floor.
“I was fine a twenty minutes ago!” the younger Anderson argues. “This is all your fault, Micah!” he continues, scowling at his boyfriend. “I’m ruining the name of jolly ol’ St. Nick! Are you happy now?”
Micah refuses to laugh at that, but it’s a struggle, and Shane can tell from his face. “Hey, don’t drag me into this,” the brunet says hastily, as he raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Yeah? Well, if you just told me where you hid my gift—!”
Micah actually laughs at this one, and rather hard. “You’re still going on about that? Wasn’t your humiliating defeat at our staring contest enough?”
“Just give it up, Shane!” Erin agrees, a shit-eating grin playing on her lips. “It’ll be Christmas in a couple of hours. Let Micah have this one!”
“But I’ve found everyone else’s!” Shane cries desperately.
He marches towards the wooden table at the back of the room, where he placed three of his haphazardly opened gifts a few hours prior. “And… Christ, I’ve looked everywhere,” he continues, as he slowly plants his face onto the table. Then, he turns sideways to look at Micah and says, “What kind of sorcery do you posses, Micah? I’ve checked all three bathrooms, the living room, our library—hell, I was sure it was there—the laundry room…”
At that moment, Jude walks into the living room, a cup of hot chocolate in hand. “Dude, he found it?” he says, looking crest-fallen. “I was rooting for you, Micah! I thought for sure that the washing machine was a perfect—.”
Jude’s frown is wiped away into a neat ‘O’ of shock as the rest of the room stares at him in silent surprise.
“Shit.”
Shane’s head quickly snaps up, the same moment Micah lunges at him.
“Shane,” Micah says carefully. “Be reasonable here…”
The younger brunet grins coyly up at him, then plucks his glasses of his face, and slithers from his arms. “Doesn’t matter how fast you are if you can’t see me, Micah,” Shane laughs.
And then they’re off, sprinting away towards the Anderson’s laundry room, Shane leading Micah in spins around Blaine and Erin, past Jude who spills some of his hot chocolate. But then Micah slides around the corner, quick and precise, and turns around to catch Shane by surprise.
“I’m farsighted remember?” Micah teases, as he wraps his arms firmly around Shane’s torso.
“So I’m all blurry now,” the younger Anderson pouts, rather saddened by Micah’s second win.
“A little bit,” Micah says. “But I could find this face no problem.”
The line is terrible, but it’s enough to send Shane’s lips curling into a small smile, enough to let Micah push him back, slowly, until his back hits the wall. It’s also enough for Shane to hungrily kiss Micah back, and it’s definitely a while before he remembers his hidden Christmas present.
