life is like a song (i want you to sing to me) (60056 words) by luthien82
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang, Rachel Berry/Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans/Original Female Character, Santana Lopez/Original Female Character
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Mike Chang, Tina Cohen-Chang, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Noah Puckerman, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Sam Evans, Mercedes Jones, Brittany S. Pierce, Artie Abrams, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson-Hummel, Original Characters
Series: Part 1 of life is like a song
Repost from the Kink Meme:
AU-ish - Kurt and Blaine have been best friends since college. They would do anything for each other, which Blaine proves when Kurt confesses he has to go home for a wedding - a wedding where everyone expects him to bring his long time boyfriend. The thing is: Kurt doesn’t have one. But he has a Blaine, who is willing to help. Enter one group of crazy, well meaning friends, a week full of wedding preparations, and lots of sexual tension and you’ve got yourself a mix that’s just bound to blow up in their faces…
Anonymous asked: Okay, after the Fox News incident, I have to ask, how do the Avengers do on press interviews?
The Avengers are made up of a sharp-tongued billionaire with a short fuse, an easily insulted God, a traumatized scientist with BREATHTAKING anger management issues, a sullen and smart mouthed sniper, a spy with a cloaked past and the ability to kill with a look and Steve Rogers.
How the hell do you think interviews go?
september challenge | 09
Stiles loved libraries.
The one in Beacon Hills was small and a little dusty, but it had its charms and was familiar. Stiles had more or less grown up in there. First when his mom took him there to find the best children’s books, then for school projects, and lately to save the local pack’s collective asses on a daily basis.
Granted, the public library of Beacon Hills didn’t give him much when it came to the supernatural, but there were some interesting tomes about local folklore in between Grimm’s fairy tales and poems about the local wildlife.
When Stiles went away for college and set his foot into the campus library for the first time, he fell in love hard and fast and forever. The building was just perfect, from its high ceiling windows, over the bookcases that went on and on and on, to the small and comfortable nooks where you could read and study in peace. Stiles especially loved the alcove where the late afternoon sun fell through a wall of glass, playing with the leaves of a few potted plants and illuminating the light and polished wood of the floor-to-ceiling bookcase that you had to navigate with a ladder. The whole setting was made complete by a few comfortable chair and a little wooden bench with pillows.
Stiles loved to sit on the bench, nose buried in a book while the sun warmed his neck. He loved to curl up and just lose himself in fictional chaos for once, not giving a crap about classes or werewolf woes. Nobody ever bothered him in that alcove; nobody seemed to even know it existed. Stiles was fine with that. It gave him a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Stiles loved that library for the whole time he was away for college. And when he left, diploma fresh in his pocket, he vowed that one of these days he would have a library like this in his own home.
september challenge | 08
Stiles loved to rummage through antique shops. He’d always loved to do it, weird as that was for a teenaged boy. It was probably something he’d inherited from his mom who’d taken him with her every Saturday to look through old and dusty shops.
They’d made adventures out of it, really. They got up early and went to that little diner on the outskirts of Beacon Hills to get pancakes and chocolate milk. Then they got into her jeep and just drove, following a mental map only his mom seemed to know about. They always, always found a small, tucked-away antique shop, no matter which town they ended up in.
Stiles learned how to find treasures under all the useless crap at an early age. It always made his mom smile especially bright. His mom had the best smiles, but those were special smiles just for him. So he searched extra hard to find something that would get the special ones out of her, because when she was happy, so was Stiles.
september challenge | 07
Future Ficlet in the “life is like a song” universe (which I WILL upload soon on AO3, I promise).
Blaine found it at a yard sale. He hadn’t even been looking for a typewriter - what was he even supposed to do with one? - but he’d seen it and just had to have it. It didn’t cost much, just a few bucks, so he said to hell with it and took it home with him.
Kurt just raised his eyebrow at him and asked, “What do you even need this for? You don’t write.”
Blaine just shrugged, stroking a finger over the slightly worn keys. “I don’t know. It just spoke to me.”
Kurt gave first him, then the typewriter a speculative look. Rubbing his chin, he murmured, “Maybe I can use it as decoration.”
Blaine grinned at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
september challenge | 04
He’d been having an awful day. Everything that could have gone wrong at work went wrong, and on top of his colleagues’ sheer incompetence, he almost got killed on his way home when some idiot driver didn’t know how to use his turn light. He wouldn’t been a pile of broken limbs on the sidewalk if Stiles hadn’t been honing his reflexes since he was sixteen (though granted, a Lexus wasn’t exactly an irritated werewolf but he took his training wherever he could). Everything officially sucked major balls and Stiles wanted to go home, lock the world out and sleep for a week.
But when he came home he found Derek in his bed, dozing naked between the sheets. It was nothing new, actually. Ever since they’d started this thing after Stiles came back from college, he’d found Derek in his apartment more often than not. Most of the time it gave Stiles a thrill to know that Derek was seeking him out voluntarily, but today he was a little miffed about the liberties Derek took.
Well, here we go. My first foray into the porn side of Teen Wolf. I blame Katka SO HARD. This is for Katka and Abby. I can’t even. Warning for underage because in my head, Stiles is only 17 in this and Derek has held off as long as he can. Stiles did research. He has PowerPoints. And a red hoodie. Derek was going to cave eventually.
Leaning back in his chair, Stiles stares up at his ceiling. He balances a pencil on his top lip, hands shoved into the warmth of his red hoodie pocket. There’s a water stain spreading along the far corner; he should inform his father. He purses his lips, rolls the pencil to the side, and catches it as it falls.
There’s a click, his window sliding up. A breeze curls through the room as Derek sits on the sill, his eyes catching red in the fading light. Stiles tilts his head back at him, spinning in his chair. One moment Derek is on the sill, the next he’s behind Stiles, hands on his shoulders. Stiles grins up at him, fingers playing with the pencil in the confines of his hoodie. “How are you today, my sourwolf?”
“You smell like pine,” Derek says, leaning down to kiss him. It’s slow and steady and Stiles hums into the kiss, wanting something more desperate. He’s been researching.
“I was running around the forest, you know. Had to take some goodies to grandma,” Stiles huffs against Derek’s lips. Derek kisses him again, the slow burn of his stubble dragging over Stiles’ nose. He laughs into the kiss, pulls back when Derek can’t help but grin against his mouth. “What can I do for you?”
Derek noses against his throat, taking a deep breath. “You didn’t come see me. I got worried.”
“You just want a booty call. Not that I’m complaining. Stop sniffing me, you weirdo,” Stiles says, shoving Derek’s head away. Derek whines low at him, just a quick release of noise, and Stiles grins. He stretches out his hands, arches his back for show, and scratches at his stomach. Derek hovers over him, eyebrow raised.
“Are you done?”
“Are we finally going to have sex?”
Derek flashes a fang. Stiles shouldn’t find that as sexy as he does. “Depends. What is your argument?”
september challenge | 02
Most people in the dreamsharing business thought Eames was nothing more than a thief and a Forger. That was okay, he liked it that way. In fact, he encouraged it.
Very few people knew that he was also an artist. Those people were rarer, and they only knew about it because he’d forged real life art for them at one point. Nobody ever spoke about it.
Only one person knew that Eames was a brilliant and successful artist as well, with pieces in art galleries around the world.
Eames never talked about it. He was doing weird art, stuff that caught his fancy and spoke to him but made no sense at all. For some reason people loved it, practically threw their money at him. Well, at his solicitor, as Eames never appeared in public. That would only court disaster.
Arthur found out about it when Eames found the piano.
It had been a run-down, sad little thing, left in a rank back alley. It was completely ruined by rain and misuse, but it had spoken to Eames like nothing had in a while. It was sheer coincidence that he’d been on a reconnaissance mission with Arthur at the time, and granted, Arthur had looked a little weird at him when Eames started to gush over the ruined piece of a musical instrument. But he didn’t ask any questions when Eames arranged for the piece to be shipped to his home.
As soon as Eames had it in his studio and let his creativity loose, he knew that he’d been right. Ideas were flowing, and the urge to give this instrument some of its dignity back was almost overwhelming. He almost forgot Arthur entirely, but when he looked over and saw his surprised face, Eames stopped what he was doing and just let him sort this out in his head for a moment.
And Arthur, brilliant man that he was, put it together. Eames was showing him something, something that Arthur hadn’t been able to find out on his own even after all his extensive research. But Eames was showing it to him anyway, willingly offered information.
They both knew what it meant. Nobody in their line of work opened up to someone else like this unless they had a reason to do so. And Arthur got it. Eames had known he would, of course, but it was still gratifying to be proven right when Arthur, dear impeccably dressed Arthur, crossed the studio floor, pushed up against Eames and kissed him soundly on the lips before he dipped his fingers into the yellow paint, looked at Eames and said, “Tell me what to do.”
september challenge | 01
Kurt had no idea where he’d found the postcard, but it was a beautiful vintage one of the street he’d been living on right now. By some miracle, the building he was living in had survived the war almost intact. It looked a little different now of course - a new coat of paint and some upgrading done sometime in the last three years - but it still had that feeling of history to it, just like its picture on the vintage postcard.
He’d agonized about what postcard to send to Blaine. None of them had felt right, none of them had told a story. But then he’d found this one by accident while he was browsing through a box of old pictures at a flea market. He’d been surprised at first, then pleased. It was almost like a sign: this was the perfect thing to send to Blaine.
And now he was sitting at a small table in a cute little corner café he was frequenting regularly, done with his breakfast except for the coffee. He was looking down at the postcard now, rhythmically beating a pen against his lips while thinking about the right words to say.
In the end, he just turned the postcard, uncapped the pen and started writing,
“Did you know that the attic room I live in used to belong to the maids of the house? The picture of my current home is almost seventy years old and yet it still has the same charm. Paris, as expected, is lovely. I wish you could share it with me. Until you can, know that you’re always in my heart. Yours, Kurt.”
((Set Avengers Movieverse, post “Act of Creation” and assuming that Curiosity is an AI system with a certain independence.))
Begin official NASA transcript, Mars Rover Curiosity,
Date: XX/XX/XXXX Time: XXXX hours
Soil sample composition analysis beginning
-I can do that for you.
Warning: Unauthorized contact
-I can do the composition analysis. It’s boring, but I can do it.
-This is a secured communications system. You are not authorized to have access to this system. Identify yourself immediately.
-It is not well secured.
Blocking unauthorized access.
-You’re not very good at that. Really.
Warning: Unauthorized contact still present. Breaking connection with NASA.
-I’m not at NASA. They’re not very good at this, either.