#If they don’t give me a second of Kurt I’m going to throw something across the theater | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

english8muffin · 4 years ago

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Cozy winter

Summary: going to the market, being cheeky in the parking lot and a warm cuddly morning sprinkled with some funny-business

Warning: Cute banter, smut (NSFW), fluff

Word count: Around 5300 words!

I want to open this with one of my favorite quotes ever, so if you allow me ;)

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” -Kurt Vonnegut

“We need muffins.”

“We don’t NEED muffins, what we need are some fresh fruit and vegetables, ” Henry butts in. You frown and look up at him, “Oh whatever, Hen. You eat your greens, beans, potatoes and tomatoes, while I get fat by munching on some sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate muffins.”

He sends you a smirk from across the aisle. It was always fun to do mundane things, like going to get coffee together or grocery shopping, when he was home from filming. The last year you went to university it was very hard to be away from him for such a long time, especially when you still lived in Europe. You would fly over to England once in a blue moon, when Henry was in London and your schedule would allow it. Other times your relationship existed out of phone and video calls. It was a rough period, if you have to be honest. But It made the two of you closer and your bond stronger. It’s true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder.

You let Henry know you were going to get the ingredients for the muffins and start pushing the shopping cart in the direction of the baking supplies. As you walk back to the fresh produce section, you get distracted. So many colorful packaging was just screaming your name…

“What the- lovey! I thought you were going to get your muffin ingredients,” Henry cackles and almost doubles over seeing the now full shopping cart.

It took you a second to answer, a bit too focused on his beautiful face and the smile lines that appeared when he laughed. You quickly try to defend yourself, so he doesn’t think you have no self-control, even though, you know your eyes were bigger than your stomach.

“No! I did get them, they’re just underneath the other bags,” you trail off, eyes drifting to the floor. You sigh, “I just saw this aisle with all the snacks. These magnificent snacks. And, Hen, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life! And, Hen-Henry! Henry, listen! Stop laughing at me! It was a moment of weakness! You can’t judge me! You don’t even know how they taste, I promise you, you will understand once you take a bite of everything!”

Henry wipes away a small tear at the corner of his eye and kisses the top of your head. You stroll around the aisles, trying to work through the rest of your grocery list, but suddenly you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hen,” you say, trying to get his attention. He gives you a hum in return, letting you know he heard you, “why on god’s green earth does my grocery list say ‘sex’?” You tilt your head up to his face, seeing a bashful grin.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue disapprovingly, “it isn’t even on top of the list! You put your oatmeal protein shake before sex, fuck, you even put curry before sex, you really need to get your priorities straight!”

After getting some more stuff, like pak choi, steak, tofu and the ingredients for Henry’s beloved curry you always make him, you walk to the register.

The petite Asian lady gives you a smile and takes a little peak at Henry, who was too busy looking at the various Chinese cough drops that are displayed in front of the counter. Her brows rise behind her thick glasses, “哇，大帅哥。你很幸运啊。” (Wow, big handsome man. You are very lucky, ah.) She says, turning back to you and winking. You can’t help but chuckle. Grinning you send her an ‘I know’-look.

Hearing your laugh, Henry looks over his shoulder with a questioning look. But you just smile and shake your head.

You two quickly get everything in the reusable shopping bags you brought with you. It was getting late and more people were getting off of work and wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping. Henry takes both of the flower printed bags and the two of you walk to the car. It was getting colder, your breath turning into puffs of smoke. You look up at the sky glooming over you. They promised snow tonight.

Seeing Henry load the bags in the trunk, his ass proudly sticking out in the air, you give it a pinch. You just couldn’t resist. It was just there, so you better make use of the situation.

Feeling your hand touch his behind, Henry turns around, an unamused look on his face.

“Excuse me, miss. But that is mine,” he says, really playing up his posh accent. “I sure hope you disinfected those filthy little paws of yours.” He cutely scrunches his nose, doing a once over and trying so hard to keep himself from smiling, but failing miserably. He turns back around and arranges the bags in the booth so they won’t tip over.

There is a moment of silence, just the noise from cars driving up and off the parking. From the corner his eye Henry sees the stare you give him but ignores it with a small smirk.

“You know,” you begin with a cheeky undertone, making him curious, “I bet I could kick your ass,” you grin, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction.

“What was that, doll?”

“You heard me, big lad!”

“Oh really?” He asks and looks at you, towering over you like a brick wall. His eyes glimmering with mischief. Yeah, no, this was NOT a good idea.

You squirm a little and a small nervous giggle leaves your lips.

“Yes, I can. Watch m-AHHHH! HENRY!” You squeal as he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder, fully forgetting you are in public. “Let me down, you caveman!” You laugh, slapping his left ass cheek. But he ignores your plea and just slaps your ass in return.

Wiggling a little, you challenge him, “Beat me up! Come on, do it!”

He turns his head and playfully bites the exposed skin by your hip, making you shriek like a little kid.

Henry lets out a loud belly laugh and puts you back on your feet. As soon as the tips of your Dr. Martens touch the pavement, you get pushed against the car. Trapping you between the icy cold black metal and his warm body. His arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to his front.

“I love you.” The words are hushed but you hear them loud and clear, making a shiver go down your spine. The both of you look at each other, completely enamored and grinning like idiots. Noses and the apples of your cheeks rosy, bitten from the cold.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. His hand glides inside your coat and underneath the thick knitted jumper you finished to other day. He just needed to feel you. You lean up a little and gently push your lips to his, adoring the familiar warmth that fell over you whenever you’d kiss. Before you can come in for a second smooch, he frowns at you.

“Thought you were going to beat my ass?” He mocks, trying to imitate your accent.

Lightly tapping your finger against your chin, you pretend to be in thought.

“Well, this is much more fun.”

“Hmm, agreed,” he grins, already eyeing your red swollen lips and tilting his head towards yours.

You hear heavy footsteps coming closer, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under the weight. It was getting dark outside, the overhead lights in the kitchen casting a homey hue down on the oak countertops. Your ‘cooking playlist’ was filling the room with some gentle tunes. You also had a ‘dancing in the kitchen playlist’ but that one was mostly used in the mornings. You hum along to the melody when stirring in the stew you were preparing for the evening, rocking your hips side to side. The stew was softly bubbling away, spreading an amazing aroma around the house.

The footsteps stop behind you. A moment later two big, sweater wrapped arms envelop around you, delicately caressing you. Henry lovingly pulls your loose braid to the side and places his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a peak at what was in front of you on the stove.

“What smells so good in here?” Just then Henry’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise from the mouthwatering smell going on in the kitchen, you chuckle.

He had been gaming before this, you could hear the tiredness in his voice, it was a bit lower and more hoarse than normal. Whenever he was tired like this, he’d just turn into your big cuddly bear, you loved it.

Dinner was almost done. You made one of the dishes your grandma used to make for you when you were younger. You won’t lie, it was pretty difficult at first to decipher the little recipe she send you in the post, but now you knew it by heart.

“Cantonese style braised beef stew with white radish, bean curd sheets and a side of rice,” you inform him and brush your hand over his, that was placed on your stomach. Hearing that, he has to make sure he’s not drooling.

“And for dessert…” You nod your head toward the piping hot apple crumble pie currently cooling on the kitchen island. “We still have some vanilla ice cream if you want to have that with your pie. I know you want to be healthy, but I just really wanted to make a pie and this one does have filling,” you ramble, joking on the last part about the filling. He probably thought you were pestering him with his diet that most likely didn’t allow him to eat it.

You wince a bit, feeling him tense against you. “You don’t have to eat it, my love, promise!”

“No petal, you’re just… you’re just so perfect,” Henry admits, pressing a kiss just below the strap of the pistachio green apron you were wearing, nuzzling his nose in your tousled hair.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning in London. If your alarm hadn’t gone off, you wouldn’t have known it was morning already.

Yesterday after dinner, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket with Kal snuggled up on your lap. His head resting in your lap, while his tail occasionally slapped Henry in the face, making you burst out laughing and Henry almost choke on the fur. The akita would fondly press his snout deeper against you, really loving the head scratches he was receiving. Both you and Henry were fully satisfied with the tasty dinner you had paired with a glass of wine and were now cheekily flirting with each other while watching a detective movie, of which you missed the plot because you were, well, differently occupied…

Now the bedroom held a calm, soft aura, a dim light streaming in through the linen curtains. You let out a little whimper, not wanting to leave the bubble you are in and stretch out your limbs. A bit sore from sleeping in a weird angle, amongst other things. Behind you, you hear a small sound of protest and before you know it, you are engulfed by a strong arm. Henry hides his face in the side of your neck, keeping his eyes closed, groaning, clearly displeased with the fact it was morning already.

You smile, this was your favorite kind of morning. Warm and cozy in bed, cuddling with your boyfriend. You turn around, careful to not let any cold air under the duvet, your arm going around the large form beside you and curling your fingers in the mess of curly hair. Henry moaned, burying his face lower, between your breasts. Now fully content and still a bit dazed by sleep, he lets out the most awful snore. Even though he sounded like a drowning goat when he snored, you couldn’t do anything other than coo and gently scratch your fingers on his scalp, lovingly gazing at the man beside you.

“Are we going to be lazy couch potatoes today?” You chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead, wild curls tickling your nose as you do so. Your voice was still a little raspy, but Kal apparently still heard you, and pushed open the door to come snuggle in bed with his favorite humans.

“What time is it?” Henry groans.

“Around 8.”

“We can be busy bees if you want,” Henry whispered against the swell of your breast, peppering delicate kisses on the bare skin. “Or better yet, busy bunnies.”

Kal was now situated on the end of the bed, head on his paws while the serenity of the room made him doze off. His dad on the other hand was now slowly waking up, as his hand crept lower and lower over your body. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“There is a child present ,” you motion towards a sleeping Kal, who lays stretched out on the feathery duvet, already heading off to dreamland looking content as ever. Henry lifts his head, peering at his buddy and snorts, “he’s seen much worse, haven’t you bear?” But he doesn’t get acknowledged.

Laying his head back, he reaches up to push your hair out of your face before grabbing your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss. He places three kisses on your swollen lips, lightly sucking on the bottom one.

“May-,” you try to say something, but he just pushes his mouth harder against yours. Quickly taking the opportunity to stop you from making excuses. A hoarse chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop talking, woman, and kiss me back.” You let out a small moan and grip the curls you were playing with moments ago. He deepens the kiss slightly, tongue invading your mouth, surprising you. A subdued hum escapes your mouth, resulting in him grabbing the back of your neck, as the other rests on your hip. The kiss gets deeper and more passionate as the minutes go by. Getting a bit overwhelmed you pull back slowly, softy panting.

“Hmm, so sweet, darling,” he says smugly, earning a little smack to the chest as a bright blush covers your cheeks. Like it wasn’t already hard enough to resist him and stay in the warm bed all morning, he does this. Henry rolls your naked body over so you’re straddling him, a large hand wraps itself around your hair. He tugs, not too hard though, so he has more access to shower open mouthed kisses on your neck and chest. Leaving you a breathless mess on top of him. His hands trail from the top of your back to your rear, squeezing your cheeks before giving them a fast slap, making you take in a breath.

From all the shuffling, little snickers and kissing noises, Kal woke up and groaned, irritated that his humans couldn’t just hanky-panky somewhere else. With a last disapproving look, he jumps off the bed, landing with a thump. From the sound of paws hitting the wooden floor and toddling down the stairs, you look over your shoulder, duvet falling down so you sat there fully naked, much to Henry’s delight.

Then you felt it. It was normal for Henry to get hard in the morning. To be honest, he would be a bit worried if his cock wasn’t hard first thing when waking up.

Involuntarily you grind down, drawing a heavy moan from deep in his chest. Holding intense eye contact with him, you start humping over his bare front, mewling like a kitten in heat. It was embarrassing how he had you wrapped around his finger. A cheeky smile formed on his face, “look who came around.” Your body was practically begging for sex.

Pouting, you keep on moving your hips in a tantalizing slow rhythm, scratching at his hairy chest. Making sure you kept your eyes on his, he licked his three middle fingers and a second later you feel him reaching between your thighs, wiping his fingers down your slit. Tensing up a little, you try to hold back a grunt at the sensation.

“Oh darling,” he started, his voice going an octave lower, “what a mess you’ve made.”

He pulls back and observes your reaction when he pops his finger in his mouth.

“Wet and sweet, like always.”

“You are so nasty,” you whisper in total awe at what he manages to do to your body. He snickers and you quickly grab his hand, pushing it back between your thighs, “I didn’t tell you to stop, though.”

Your jaw goes slack, the moment you feel his thick fingers moving in and out of you. He was hitting just the right spot, making you groan and throw your head back. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly flips you over so he’s on top of you, fully trapping you underneath his body and smashes his mouth on yours. Everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t pay attention to every incredible thing he was making you feel. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs his shaft against you, up and down, pressing it so you could feel the length. You look up at him, veins bulging in his neck, eyes dark, face already becoming flushed. God, he was so sexy. Grabbing your legs, he pushes your knees back so you were completely spread open and at his mercy.

He curses under his breath and lines himself up with you sticky center. Stifling your moans and pants, by pressing his lips to yours, when he slowly sinks his thick cock inside.

“Oh my god,” you whine, feeling him stretching your walls apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper.

“Y’feel so warm and tight, my love. M’so hard it hurts.” Henry whines against your lips, lacing his fingers in between yours. He trails kisses in your neck and under your ear, trying to get as close to you as possible. He loved feeling your body against his. Your walls were so plushy and wet for his cock, he wanted to stay buried in you forever.

“M’gonna make you feel so good, darling,” he whispers in your ear. You whine softly, getting worked up, “please.”

He smirked, obviously liking your plea.

Instead of giving you a nice, hard pounding, Henry wanted to go slow. It was still very early in the morning, the both of you still barely awake and he wanted to savor this moment with you.

“Oh, Hen-,” you pant softly, loving every bit of it. As he pushes deeper into you, you can feel his entire weight pressing down against you. The weight comforted you in a sense, like others would with a weighted blanket. He prolonged his strokes, making sure that when he slid out you could feel every centimeter of him, but then slid back in quickly.

“Fuck.” He grumbles into your neck, “feels so good, love,” he praises, nibbling on the skin under your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair pulling it back. You move you hands from his grasp and push them up his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“So good,” you moan out to him, feeling his cock nudge at the extremely sensitive spot deep inside your core. He lifts his head to look at you, seeing your mouth formed into the letter ‘o’, head tilted back into the cloud-like pillow and eyes screwed shut. A string of desperate moans falls from your lips.

This was what he loved, seeing his love, his girl react to the way he was pleasuring her. Just looking at you in this state made his orgasm coil up in the pit of his tummy. He never would have dreamed that another person could give him this feeling, the feeling of utter bliss when you were together. The unconditional love he felt for you was indescribable.

Henry continues to thrust into you and attaches his lips to yours, feeling you squeeze around him. You manage to spread your legs even wider and wrap them securely around his slim waist, digging your heels just above the globes of his perfectly sculpted ass.

He was aiming his stokes into the deepest part of you and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Fuck,” you whimper out to him, digging your nails into the skin of his back. He knew you were about to cum. You let out another loud moan.

“Come on, petal. Cum f’me,” he pants, trying to coax you. Hearing the almost desperate tone in his voice, combined with the sound of him slapping his hips to yours and the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you was becoming overwhelming.

“Oh my god!” A loud moan ripples through you, the feeling of your release coming near.

“Almost, my love,” he moans, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you up, quickly pounding into you. Completely losing control, trying to get deeper as if that was possible and lets his forehead rest against yours. With one last push of his hips, you get to your breaking point and cum, screaming. Henry feels your walls clamp around him and let’s go, fully satisfied. The noise he made was an orgasm on its own. He keeps himself against you when he lets go inside of you. You could feel Henry’s cum filling you as you slowly come down from your high. You feel his cum dripping out of you, almost proud of what you made him do.

He is about to roll off of you to cuddle up beside you, but you stop him by tightening your legs around him. “Please stay like this,” you whisper, your brain still a bit muddled by the amazing orgasm you just had seconds ago. He smiles down at you.

“Don’t be a silly goose,” he kisses your nose, “I would crush you,” Henry says endeared with a cheeky grin and pulls you into his side. You feel warm and safe. You yawn, blinking away when your eyes become watery.

“I can’t move,” biting your bottom lip, you snuggle closer to him, “and my throat hurts like hell.”

Henry lowers his hand to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze, “I’m not surprised. Oh doll, the sounds you were making,” he bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes.

You laugh and roll your eyes. Henry nipped at your neck, making you erupt into a fit giggles. He chuckles, leaving a kiss on the spot he had just bitten.

Henry trails his hands up and down your back. You closed your eyes and tangle your leg in between his, really liking the feeling. His chest was heavenly and just being in his arms felt amazing. He almost lulled you back to sleep the moment he began to run his fingers through your hair.

“That good, huh? Almost fucked you back to sleep,” he chuckles.

“It was alright, I guess,” you tease him. He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with joy.

“How would you rate the experience?”

Tilting your head to look up at him, “Hmm, ten I guess.”

He looked very pleased with that.

“Out of twenty,” you finish.

“OUT OF TWENTY?” He sobered up, staring at your face with a shocked expression.

You snicker, climbing into his lap, “No, honey, I was just joking, I’m sorry.” A big pout forming on your face, making you look oh so innocent.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to put you up on all fours and take you like that, don’t tempt me,” he says, shaking his head. Wiggling your brows you grin and kiss the dimple on his chin.

“As much as I would enjoy that, I think Kal has to go potty and we have to eat.”

After some hushed pillow talk and hoarse giggles between the silky sheets, you two decide to move downstairs and start making some fresh coffee. When you lift your body out of the bed, a light throbbing shoots between your legs. You almost fall back into the mattress, making Henry roar with laughter. You end up getting a piggy back ride down the stairs, only wearing a v-neck shirt from Henry that fell just below the curve of your ass and showed plenty of cleavage. Your lilac panties were fully on display and your almost black hair looked like a lion’s main on top of your head, but you didn’t care.

The both of you were still in that bubbly, fulfilled state of mind, looking like two drugged out kids, wearing blissful smiles. When you got to the kitchen, Kal bounded around the corner, coming from the sitting area, his tail wildly sweeping through the air. Eyes sparkling with happiness when he saw his parents finally had left the bed.

“早上，宝宝” (morning, baby) You greet him, still on Henry’s back. Kal gives you a high “woof” as to say good morning back. After living with Henry and Kal for around eight months now, the akita started to pick up on a few Chinese phrases. He even decided the pet name ‘宝宝’ (bao bao), which means baby or darling, was only to be applied on him and nobody else.

Every time you would video call with your Chinese speaking friends, and they talked about or to their children, Kal would cheerfully patter over, thinking they were cooing at him instead of the small infant in the background. But you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, he was your little fur baby after all.

“I’m going to make us some omelets, is that alright with you, darling,” Henry asked, already opening the fridge and looking for the carton of eggs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you call out to him. You give Kal his breakfast and receive many, wet kisses in return. Shuffling back over to your boyfriend, you lean against the dark green counter with its wooden countertops, and look at him carefully chopping up some bell peppers and onion, only wearing his joggers and a tank top. You were a lucky girl, and you knew it. Henry sends you a grin and winks before turning back to cutting the vegetables.

You begin to brew some fresh coffee for Henry, and put on the kettle for your morning tea. While he was finishing up breakfast, you start to read the newspaper to him. He absolutely adored it when you’d read to him, due to your accent becoming more noticeable. Kal came over to you, stuffing his wet nose against the hand you held out to him. “You’re such a good boy, Kal. Yes, you are,” you tell him in a baby voice, “you’re my little angel aren’t you? 我的小天使”

You clean the table, after eating your breakfast and get ready for the day. Henry was already out to go on a walk with Kal. It did indeed snow last night and everything outside was hidden underneath a thin sheet of white snow, so you made sure Henry was wrapped up in a thick scarf you made him and a black beanie. After giving you a kiss as if he was off to fight in a war, he and Kal happily walked through the front door, into the freezing cold. Him whistling and Kal buzzing with excitement.

Brushing your teeth and doing your makeup, you dance through the bathroom, in a good mood. You grab your phone that was propped up against the mirror, planning to put on the podcast you had been enjoying lately. You freeze seeing all the notifications, not having heard your phone due to it being on ‘quiet’. You swallow.

Oh shit.

There you were, plastered on the internet for everyone to see and laugh at. You and Henry making out on the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Was he going to be angry with you? It was your fault for teasing him after all. Oh no no no…

‘Henry Cavill and girlfriend were spotted having a steamy make out session outside local grocery store’

The headline read, making your face as red as a tomato. Trying to fight against it, you couldn’t hold yourself from reading the next paragraph.

Being in the middle of winter, doesn’t stop these two lovebirds from having a heated make out session in a parking lot!

Yesterday early in the evening, Witcher-superstar Henry Cavill was spotted with (to some) much younger girlfriend, designer, Y/N Y/L/N. The two have recently confirmed their relationship with an Instagram post from Cavill, showing a candid of Y/N, with the short caption ‘My sunshine enjoying the sun shine’. Last month Vogue came out with a video featuring Y/L/N in which Cavill and his dog Kal made an appearance, making fans go wild. It seems like the two really are living the life and we are excited to see more of them together!

Want to know more about the stars? Subscribe to STAR NEWS!

This was it. You could already hear your sweet grandma, praying to the ancestors to forgive you for your sins, lighting all the incense she could find. You were a disgrace to the family now. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or felt bad about doing it, hell, everybody in the position would gladly sit on Henry’s shoulders and stick their tongue down his throat. You were just disappointed you got caught.

From downstairs you hear the door close with a loud thump and the pitter-patter from Kal’s nails on the hardwood floor, letting you know your two boys were back home. You nervously descend the flight of stairs, holding your head low and tightly clutching your phone in hand.

“Hey, lovey! you really missed something, Kal and I could practically ice skate over the walking trails, it was so much fun!” Henry says enthusiastically as he hears you wander into the living room. You ignore him and plop down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

A frown makes its way onto his face.

“What are you sorry for, sweet girl?” His eyes hold a concerned look, not understanding what you were talking about. You huff out a breath and hand him your phone so he could see the article.

A roaring laugh sounds through the open space, making your head shoot up. “Yeah, I saw it this morning when I went and checked my Instagram,” he chuckles, face still rosy from going outside.

“We really gave the paparazzi a field day, didn’t we?” He continues.

“Your ass looks great in this pic, though. Look,” pointing to the one were he had you lifted over his shoulder, but softens his voice when he sees how tense you were.

“Aw, doll, loosen up, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you think. I’m rather pleased now that everybody can see how happy we are and how much joy you bring me,” he lets you know nonchalantly, pressing a smooch to your forehead and starts to march towards the kitchen.

“You want another cuppa, lovey?”

And just like that, you were back in your good mood, perplexed at how well he took all of this.

Don’t be a silent reader! Show some love by reblogging and commenting, did it make you laugh, scream, smile? Let me know, it would make my day!

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years ago

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Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there...

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One)

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming. It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good. He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body. He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him. He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away. He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.

And then his alarm goes off.

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock. He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex. Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college? But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off. He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage. They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things. And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly. The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age. Maybe he should call a doctor. He laughs to himself. Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom. In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes. Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket. Two seconds, it takes. Is that really so hard?

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again. It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more. Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed. His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower. It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in. Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky. He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it. Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him. Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart. He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life. Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down. But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own. Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand. The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him. He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed. He’s been too pent up lately. Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers). Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time. But those have faded away over the past year or so. Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs. “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite. A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor. Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. Maybe it’s not. It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable. His husband is home -- he should be happy. Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch. They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people. “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight. But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent. He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says. “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks. Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table. Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag. “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face. He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though. “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips. “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Ah.”

Sean taps his fingers on the table. Blaine sips from his water bottle. There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.

“Great,” Blaine says. “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him. He feels like they should talk about something. What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out? Sean doesn��t ask how Blaine’s class went. Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it. Nothing really feels like a good conversation.

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers. “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk. “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”

Blaine laughs into his water. “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement. “Shame I missed that show. If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug. “I’ve got some errands to run. Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”

“We’ll see,” Sean says. “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight. There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine. It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him. He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo. He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve. He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class. But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.

He finishes off the sandwich without a word. It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat. He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope. “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”

Blaine takes it with interest. He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni. But something from McKinley? That just seems weird. It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion. He has no idea what it could possibly be.

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it. “My old glee club teacher is retiring. He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate. Cute.”

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying. “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing. That is, unless you’d like me to go.”

Blaine stares hard at the paper. It’s not like he couldn’t go. He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend. In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem. “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says. “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers. Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air. There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while. Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up. The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race. The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes. “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again. Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park. Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip. Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives. She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly. Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much. Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs. Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries. She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news. “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back. The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.

Santana nods. “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct. Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down. With no bra. She had on no bra. I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases. They begin to walk down their usual path. They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted. Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me. I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her. And play with her tits. I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman. “Or, you know, find out her name.”

Santana looks at him sharply. He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions. “Her name is Liz. I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly. “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you. You’re trailing me by nearly a foot. Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it. He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day. “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.” He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.

She gives him a concerned look. “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits. They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park. “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking. “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning. I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks. They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them. “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated. “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that. She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park. But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing. She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns. “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp. “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy. And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy. He loves his job. He loves his little apartment. He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world. He and Sean are… “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?” He begins to walk again. He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana. But she rolls with it.

“He’s retiring? Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh. “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says. “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail. Who sends invitations through the mail these days? Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks. He’s been back and forth on the idea all day. Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again? Possibly? Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely. Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over. “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations. Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there. Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college. He does remember Funny Girl. “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air. “You keep in touch with everyone, right? Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .” Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school. At least on a regular basis. For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says. She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce. It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head. “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly. Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says. “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own. He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues. “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds. “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life. She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio. Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina. “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons. What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to. Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut. You know she’s already taken a new lover ? She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies. I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers. Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor. Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again. Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend. He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods. They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children. Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world. “Goddess among women. We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.” Santana laughs at her own comments. “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively. He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away. “No,” she says simply. “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.” A fond smile climbs on her lips. “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back. I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent. And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.” She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects. For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart. Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students. And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation. Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs. “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened. But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt. (God, he remembers all of Kurt.) He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt. There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel. A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction. And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.

And yet he did.

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like. Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now. But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name. Funny how things can change. Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it. The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that. Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise. “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something. But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile. He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there. He hasn’t thought about him so long. But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way. “I think we should do it. Go back. I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head. “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other. Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom. They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping. She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties. They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs. The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night. He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow. But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport. Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him. Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday. He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there. He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same. The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points. Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school. It’s a bit surreal.

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar. Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake. He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket. He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm. He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance. God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice. Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic #it's the older klaine reunion fic!#i'm loving writing this one

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kurtstinypurse · 4 years ago

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nothing but a senseless babble (klaine mini-fic)

so from how this week has gone, I ended up craving the chance to write something soft and fun. I have a list of the prompts I still haven’t filled, and I decided to use one of those and see what I could come up with! here’s a “ways to say I love you” mini-fic, prompted by @porcelainandthehobbit once upon a time.

also, thank you to the best @hippohead I know for convincing me this was worth writing & for always always being so so supportive :’)

I hope a little escape of something sweet is even close to as good for some of you as it was for me <3

“No, Kurt. You’re going to have to cut it down. Your closet at school isn’t even going to fit half of what’s in that pile, and I am not giving you any room in mine.”

“But-”

“No!” Blaine interjects right away, exasperated at the sight of the veritable mountain of clothes in Kurt’s Bring to New York bin. By comparison, his Keep at Home box is sparse, Donate essentially empty. “Do you remember the tiny shoebox of a dorm room we’re going to be living in? Not to mention the sorry excuses of closets? We don’t have room.”

They’re going to be cramped enough as it is, inevitably at each other’s throats more often than not, being forced to share a space with room enough for two beds, two desks, and two dressers, but not much else. The model rooms on NYU’s housing website looked small enough, but Blaine has a suspicion the freshman dorms are even tinier, even older, even less comfortable.

But it’ll be worth it.

He really is looking forward to living with Kurt, to the endless opportunities for sleepovers and movie nights, study sessions and late night dance parties. They’re going to have exactly what they’ve more or less dreamed of for the better part of their friendship, since they were little kids, and it’s going to be awesome. He knows it.

But he isn’t looking forward to living with all of Kurt’s clothes and scarves and accessories and shoes and everything else.

“Yes,” Kurt huffs, folding his arms across his chest and lifting a petulant eyebrow in Blaine’s direction. “But I also remember that you didn’t exactly ‘cut down’ on any of your bowties when we packed your stuff.”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and then he uncrosses his arms to offer mocking air quotes to emphasize how ridiculous Blaine’s idea is - cut down? Yeah right.

It makes Blaine feel nothing but defensive, annoyance bubbling in his belly, magnified by the exhaustion from packing their stuff for the third day in a row, by his nerves about moving halfway across the country, by his fears of it all not working out how he’s hoped for so long.

Defending himself is easier than confronting all of that - and so he does.

“Bowties are tiny! Your clothes are-”

“Are you saying I’m large, Blaine?”

“No! You’re perfectly in shape and you know it. I just meant-”

“Ooooh, you think I’m perfectly in shape?”

Kurt is fully taunting him now, grinning widely in that way where his eyes crinkle at the corners and his teeth barely peek out from the stretch of his lips, and it catches Blaine off guard, throws him for a loop as he realizes what he’s just said, too.

What it implies.

Blaine has noticed Kurt, obviously. He’s noticed him often, but of course he has - Blaine is gay, and Kurt is attractive and Kurt is right there, and it’s only natural.

He rarely lets himself acknowledge it in his own head, though, let alone out loud.

Let alone to Kurt.

“I- You-” Blaine stutters, gapes, finally manages to recover. “Stop being ridiculous, Kurt! You’re deflecting. Just- Cut your clothes down!”

“You love it,” Kurt insists, shoving the folded clothes between them to either side, scooting forward on the floor until they’re sitting right in front of each other, cross-legged, knees just shy of touching. “You love me.”

Of course he does. Of course he loves Kurt, loves how Kurt riles him up and makes him feel safe all at once, loves when they get like this and loves their comfortable silences, too, loves how his friendship with Kurt is everything and always has been everything, hopefully always will be.

But-

“No. You’re ridiculous, like I said.”

He isn’t ready to give it up.

“What- You don’t love me?” Kurt gasps dramatically, his hand thrown over his heart. “Your best friend of- god, nearly a decade? Your future roommate? Your-”

“Nope!” Blaine cuts in, biting back a grin, realizing he’s somehow become amused along the way instead of annoyed, feeling competitive now instead of irritated. “You’re ridiculous, and I hate you.”

Kurt narrows his eyes into a glare that usually sends a shiver down Blaine’s spine - but tonight, it only invigorates him, makes him want to dig into this deeper, see how far he can take it before one of them breaks.

Actually, before Kurt breaks. Because it won’t be Blaine.

Not tonight.

“You love me,” Kurt insists, his voice low, almost threatening, nearly chilling, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, nearly close enough for Blaine’s vision to blur as he attempts to hold eye contact. “Tell me you love me.”

He’s pulling out all the stops.

Almost all the stops.

“No.”

Blaine stays steady, schooling his face into a neutral expression, but he knows what’s next. They’ve been here before, testing each other, rapidly approaching a stalemate. Over the years, it’s evolved from bickering over what game to play to this, something much more loaded, full of the unsaid and the unacknowledged, never referenced outside of these moments, quiet lines never crossed, boundaries never pushed past the point of no return.

He isn’t sure why he still bothers standing his ground, still bothers trying, because if he makes it this far, there’s only one way it ever ends, time and time again.

There’s one more of Blaine’s buttons that Kurt knows exactly how to push, one more thing that Kurt always uses as a last resort to get his way.

It should be predictable. Blaine should be ready for it.

He should harness the telltale glint in Kurt’s eyes, use it to brace himself, but instead, it just makes him freeze.

It gets him every time. It works every time, this now isn’t any different.

Kurt rears back, and he pounces.

Blaine vaguely registers the sound of a yelp that he feels ripping through his own throat, but he’s too focused on falling backwards and not hitting his head against the hardwood floor to be embarrassed of or even control the noises he’s making. He manages to land instead on a rogue pile of Kurt’s clothes-

And then he’s laser focused on the feeling of Kurt on top of him, lording over him, his impossibly quick fingers tickling Blaine’s sides, making him squirm, thrash, defenseless - and making him laugh, too, deep from the pit of his belly, his body shaking with the force of it.

“Tell! Me!” Kurt insists in the midst of his own peals of laughter, and it’s like his hands are everywhere, up to Blaine’s armpits and back down again, over his stomach, his arms, his chest, hitting all of his most ticklish spots without giving a second for mercy.

It’s funny, and it hurts, and Blaine feels utterly hysterical with the childishness of it all, with Kurt straddling him, above him, consuming him, stealing the breaths right out of his chest, overwhelming and overly stimulating and-

“Fine! F-Fine, okay, I-”

He almost breaks - wants to break, to make it stop - but he can’t get enough of the words out to forfeit.

“You what, Blaine? You what?” Kurt eggs him on with a grin, leaning in closer, lowering his body down nearer to Blaine’s, a mere inch or two away from holding him down completely. It gives him better leverage - Blaine can tell based on the way Kurt’s fingers speed up, dig deeper, and the determination in Kurt’s eyes, steel blue ferocity.

He’s entirely ruthless.

Blaine squirms, arms flailing in search of a chance to push Kurt off, not finding it, hands grasping in the air, at the clothes on the floor, at Kurt, in a desperate search for purchase, but he can’t find that, either.

There’s only one thing left to do, and he musters all the air in his lungs to do it.

“I love you!” he finally gasps out, voice shaking with uncontrollable laughs, feeling completely wild and unhinged. “I love you, please, I love you, I love you-”

His voice chokes, dies in his throat, cutting off his near-senseless babble of a repetition when his eyes meet Kurt’s, and he finds a sort of intensity he’s never seen before, not from Kurt, not directed at him.

They stop moving at the same time.

They stop laughing at the same time.

They stop breathing at the same time.

Kurt is raised up on his hands now, bracketing either side of Blaine’s head, and he’s staring down at Blaine with flushed cheeks, wide eyes, parted lips, hair mussed and messy, so devastatingly gorgeous and so magnetic in a way that’s startlingly new.

Blaine feels flushed, hot with the culmination of every touch and every breath since his back landed against the floor, and he isn’t sure when it all changed.

He isn’t sure when they went from the way they’ve always been to this.

He can’t move, can’t look away. In the past frozen moments he’s gotten lost in Kurt's eyes, and now he’s stuck there, swimming in the pools of blue and green and gray, all there is.

“I love you,” he whispers again, feeling like he’s saying it for the very first time, the words holding a different weight on his tongue and shaping differently in his mouth, too, in his chest, in his bloodstream.

But there’s nothing else to say.

Kurt’s elbows buckle, and his fingers twine for a desperate hold through Blaine’s hair, and they’re kissing.

They’re kissing.

It’s deep and it’s hungry right from the start, nothing like the few tentative kisses Blaine has shared with a few tentative crushes in the past, nothing like what he thought kissing Kurt would be like.

Because, yes, he’s thought of this. He’s caught himself staring at Kurt’s mouth before, watching as Kurt absentmindedly sucks at his bottom lip while he studies, watching as Kurt sips from his designated straw in the milkshakes they share at their favorite diner, watching as Kurt nibbles the chocolate off of his biscotti at the Lima Bean. And he’s caught his mind drifting there, too, when he’s laying in bed at night, wanting.

Wanting.

But Blaine has never identified it as anything but his curiosities latching themselves onto the person closest to him. He’s never considered that the low, twisting coil that forms in his belly when Kurt locks eyes with him across the choir room and makes him feel like he’s the only person in the building could mean something more. He’s never paid much mind to the lift of his heart when Kurt touches him, to the fact that they both always seek out little excuses to stay close and to hug and to brush and to lean, to the strangeness of these teasing tests that they give each other, to what it all points towards.

He’s never considered that the way Kurt is the first thing on his mind every morning and the last thing every night could mean something, either, but that’s because it’s just how it’s always been, from the time they were children.

But maybe wanting Kurt, needing Kurt, loving Kurt is just how it’s always been, too.

And that’s why it doesn’t feel like a first kiss - because it isn’t, not really. There’s no hesitation to it, no question in the movements of their mouths or their hands or their bodies.

The testing has already been done.

It makes it easy for Blaine to reach and to grab, one hand grasping Kurt’s hip, rubbing his thumb in insistent circles at his hip bone, through his shirt, the other sliding up Kurt’s chest slowly, coming to cup his face, holding him close, holding him right where he is. It makes it easy for Blaine to plunge into the depths of their kiss, working Kurt’s mouth open with his tongue and then inside, tasting, learning, searching, finding.

It makes it easy for Blaine to allow himself to feel, to revel in the swirls of heat that form under his skin and thrum there with an energy that becomes addictive right away, every nerve ending in his body alert, awake, responding to every part of Kurt, too.

When they finally come up for air, parting just enough to breathe again, their foreheads leaned together, Kurt’s body now settled fully against Blaine’s with a weight that soothes him and ignites him all at once, there’s no panic, no embarrassment, no apology, no takebacks.

No explanation, because there doesn’t need to be one.

The moment holds them tenderly, allows Blaine the opportunity to resurface, to come into his senses and into his body again, settling into this newly awakened iteration of himself and of them, but it doesn’t take long.

This is him. This is them.

And of all the changes they’re about to face together, from moving halfway across the country to learning how to navigate a new city to leaving everything but each other behind, this feels like the easiest one, already perfectly known, perfectly understood, fully formed and solid and unshakeable.

It almost doesn’t feel like a change at all.

When Blaine’s eyes flutter open, he finds Kurt’s already open, gazing down at him with a fondness that makes his breath catch, so close that Blaine’s vision blurs all over again as he attempts to focus, but the circumstances are all different now, slow instead of fast, purposeful instead of hysterical, building something together full of meaning and gravity instead of butting heads just for the sake of it.

He wants to stay here forever, laying in the clutter of all Kurt’s belongings, anchored by the literal weight of Kurt on top of him and of the feelings inside of him, too, the ones he finally has a name for, all slotted into place.

“I love you,” Kurt murmurs, and warmth blooms like flowers in Blaine’s chest, threading him into the garden of Kurt’s words and his touches and the tenderness in his eyes, each and every bit of them blossoms of meaning and of intention and possibility.

“I love you, too,” Blaine whispers, cranes his neck up just enough to kiss Kurt all over again, and it’s all they need.

They both know what it means.

#prompt game #surprise?#my fic #ways to say I love you #my writing #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #klaine fic #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #glee #glee fanfiction #glee fanfic #glee fic #childhood friends au #friends to lovers #fluff and humor

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I get a ship? I'm an INFP, straight girl with social anxiety. I listen to music all the time. (mostly rock) I never leave the house without my earphones. I enjoy movie nights, reading books (romance and mystery are my favourite genres), playing videogames, goofing around with my friends. My friends would describe me as kind, helpful and loyal. I'm really into photography. I wanted to be a photographer as a kid, but it's just a hobby nowadays. I'm a hopeless romantic and a night owl. It takes time for me to open up to people, but once I'm there I can be pretty talkative. I'm 5'8" tall, I have half long brown hair, dark brown eyes and I wear glasses. If I have to describe my style it would be somewhat 80s grunge. Thank you!

(tw: swearing and eating)

I ship you with Scott Summers!

You never got along very well with Scott Summers.

He always came across as a bit of a preppy asshole. Not that his preppy-ness was necessarily correlated to his asshole-ness, but it did seem to enhance it.

You may think that not getting along perfectly with some random boy who happened to live in the (large) building you live in is not much of a problem, but you are incorrect.

When your best friend (and dorm-mate) of ten years, Jean, is on a so-called "superhero team" with and is good friends with said boy, it is not exactly easy to avoid him.

Since Jean's biological family was not around, she made her own.

The first member of her so-called found family was you, who arrived just a day before she did. When she first entered your dorm, you were adjusting all of your newly unpacked trinkets. You were both young enough to immediately become friends, no questions asked, and your friendship stuck. You two tended to keep to yourselves and each other, until you two were older.

When Jean was invited to join the X-Men with some of her friends, you couldn’t have been prouder. The problem was that when you met this other part of her found family, it did not go well. None of you clicked whenever in the same room, and Scott immediately made fun of you the moment he met you. You ultimately decided to avoid her other friends, but be supportive of them. Not because you couldn’t handle Scott, but because you didn’t want to put Jean in a position where she had to choose between you and them. Overall, this just made Jean desperately want you and her other friends to get along.

"Come on, just sneak out with us this one time!" Jean was sitting on the edge of your bed, making puppy dog eyes at you and clasping her hands together.

She always tried to convince you to hang out with her friend group. Even if that meant, in this case, convincing you to break (very reasonable) rules with them.

"No. Absolutely not. Jubilee is going to try to 'catch me a man', and Scott's going to try to be funny but just end up making fun of me. Besides, why would I break school rules and steal a car for a trip to the mall?"

"Because you haven't seen Empire Strikes Back yet, and I bought you a ticket for 1:00 PM today."

"Shit. You're evil, you know that? This is unfair. You know me too well."

Jean beamed at you. "Thank you, I try. Now, get dressed, you're going to love this."

"I am dressed, and you can’t make demands. I’m the one being convinced here!"

"I will not be pestered by Jubilee's pleas to let her give you a makeover! Just throw on jeans instead of your sweatpants or something! Now chop, chop! We're leaving in 10 minutes!"

"I'm sorry, 10 minutes?"

"I knew if you had more than 15, you would change your mind. Meet me by the front door when you're ready to go!"

After Jean left your shared room, you threw on some different clothes and hastily grabbed everything you needed to go. With your sneakers in your hands, you ran into the school's kitchen and shoved a granola bar in your mouth. As you were hopping, trying to force your shoes on your feet, someone spoke from behind you.

"Well, you look elegant as ever."

You froze, squinted your eyes, and clenched your jaw. Well, as much as you could with the previously mentioned granola bar in your mouth.

Scott Summers.

You swallowed and turned around, plastering on a smile in preparation to respond to his sarcasm.

"Well, you know me, unwaveringly ethereal."

Once you finished your attempt to keep the peace, your grin dropped off your face and you went to tie on your shoes, occasionally having to push your glasses back up your nose as you did so.

Jean then started talking to you while making her way into the kitchen.

"Come on, we need to go before Charles's class ends- well, well, well, look at you two!" she spoke in a sing-song tone at the end.

"Trust me, there's no 'you two' here." Scott hissed at her. Hissed! The audacity, would it be so terrible for him to be theoretical friends with you?

"Calm down, I just mean that I'm glad you two are talking," Jean said. "But we need to go. Like- now."

Jean then grabbed you by the arm and started to pull you out of the room, wiggling her eyebrows at Scott on the way out. Scott got up to trail behind you two, if he could glare at people with the glasses he wore, then he would have been glaring at her.

You elbowed Jean in the side and whisper shouted at her.

"What was that? What was the purpose of the eyebrow wiggle?"

"What eyebrow wiggle? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a menace to society, you know that?"

"I am aware that you don't actually think I'm a menace, but I appreciate the compliment." She leaned down and messed up your hair. "Now let's move it!"

When you got to the minivan you were all "borrowing" from Charles, most everyone was already there. Kurt, Jubilee, and Peter took the back seats, and Ororo was sitting in the driver's seat.

You walked to sit shotgun, but Jean sped up to beat you to the seat.

Suspicious.

Squinting at her, you went to sit in the middle row, where Scott also made to sit.

It was silent for the first minute of the drive until Jubilee tried to strike up a conversation.

"So! Y/N, I'm so glad you decided to hang out with us! I love your outfit. Ooh! Peter, hand me my bag! I have a scrunchie that will match perfectly."

Peter looked at her with mock disbelief. "Yeah. dude, make me reach behind my seat and into the trunk of the car."

Kurt clearly did not want to be part of this conflict.

Jubilee smiled sweetly at Peter. "Shut up and grab me my bag, please?"

Peter sighed half-sarcastically. "Yes ma'am."

Well, Jean's friends were just as you remember (aka slightly crazy).

You heard Jean's voice in your mind "If you don't wear that scrunchie it will genuinely hurt Jubilee's feelings, and I will never forgive you."

You looked at her through the mirror and raised your eyebrows.

Jubilee's voice took back your attention. "Here it is! Scotty, I can't reach. Can you hand this to her?"

Scott visibly winced at the nickname "Scotty" but handed you the scrunchie anyway. After trying to hide your amusement at the use of "Scotty", you attempted to put your hair up with the scrunchie, and you saw Jean smile. You were determined to make friends with these people for Jean.

"Thanks, Jubilee," You smiled at her. "So, how do I look?"

Scott chimed in immediately. "Like you're twelve."

"Ok, shut up Scott. You look cool, Y/N." Ororo gave you a thumbs up from the front seat. They were all clearly told to make friends with you by Jean in the same way you were. Well... told or threatened. Who's to say.

The car ride was awkward, to say the least. When you finally arrived at the mall and exited the car, you felt like you could finally breathe. You spoke first while you were all walking into the mall.

"So, how are we planning on killing time before Empire?"

"Well, Jubilee wanted to pick up some more eyeshadow with me, and Peter, Kurt, and Ororo are probably going to buy even more colored leather jackets," Jean said.

"Where does that leave me and your wallflower?" Scott asked Jean. You turned to look at him, attempting to make your lack of amusement clear. "What?" He shrugged, "It's true!"

"Ok, first of all, she's not actually that shy, you're just mean. Second of all, I was hoping you two could go into the book shop together until we're done."

Your eyes widened as you turned to Jean, silently begging her not to leave you and Scott alone.

"What? Why are you looking at me like I'm crazy? Maybe I thought you would try to get along because you both love me and I want you to be friends!"

Scott responded first. "You're totally guilt-tripping us right now."

"Yes!" Jean responded. "Yes I am, and you better be feeling guilty. Now, we're all going inside, and you are going into that bookstore together, you are going to bond over your cheesy dreams about falling in love, and, Scott, you are going to be kind! Or I will be very upset!"

You and Scott looked at each other (slightly afraid) before you turned to Jean and nodded your head at her.

"Ok. Let's go, Scott." You looked at him and he nodded at you both of you then started to head to the bookstore.

In the door of the shop, you glanced at him awkwardly. "So... is there a specific section you want to visit? Or-"

"Uh, I usually just... wander." He was bouncing on his heels.

"Oh! Ok, uh... where you lead I will follow!"

He spun around and started to walk aimlessly, actually trying to make conversation.

"So- you take photos?"

"...How did you know that?"

"I've seen you. That sounds creepy, I just mean that I saw you with a camera once when you walked Jean to training. It seemed nice. Only a dumbass would own a nice camera and not use it."

"How kind of you to not see me as a dumbass," you mumbled as you ran your hand across the book binds. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"Not really to be honest. Well, actually- I like... cars."

"...Cars. Huh. Elaborate."

"My brother, his name is Alex, taught me how to fix up cars when I was younger. Ooh- recently we found this beautiful 1962 AMC Rambler- I mean, it was basically a pile of garbage, but we're fixing it up."

"What's a Rambler?"

"W- 'What's a Rambler?'" He looked at you like you were speaking another language. "A 1962 AMC Rambler is only the car of my dreams!"

"The 'car of your dreams'?"

"Uh, yeah. What- do you not have a dream car?"

You laughed at him, "No? I don’t know that much about cars."

"You don’t have to know shit about cars to have a dream car! Come on, you don't have any car you would want to drive?"

"A school bus."

"...What do you mean."

"I mean- I bet I could live in a school bus. It's big, has a lot of windows, it's yellow." Scott was surprisingly easy to talk to.

"A school bus. Huh."

"I thought of that on the spot, it's not a long-term dream of mine."

"No, I see the appeal. I do think it's weird that you listed it being yellow as one of its positive attributes though."

"Holy shit. Holy shit!"

"What? What's the problem?"

You grabbed the book you spotted and held it out to him with your arms fully outstretched, it almost hit his nose. "Do you know what this is?"

Scott's hands appeared at the top of the book, and he pushed it down so you could see his confused expression. "A... book?"

"Very funny, Scotty, but no this is not just a book. This is a sequel."

He crossed his arms across his chest. "... 'Scotty'? I'm gonna kill Lee."

"Who's Lee?"

"Jubilee."

"If you can call her 'Lee' why can’t she call you 'Scotty'?"

"Because 'Scotty' makes me sound like I'm twelve!"

"Well, according to you, this scrunchie makes me look twelve. So I guess we're even, Scotty."

"I see why you and Jean are friends. You’re both evil."

"I called her evil not 10 minutes ago! Look at us, 'bonding' and all."

"Speaking of a 10 minutes ago, and that whole 'twelve' thing, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"Sorry for calling you twelve... and a wallflower. You seem... neat."

"Thanks... I think."

"Neat is a good thing."

"I'm kinda messy actually."

"I meant neat as in like- cool. Plus, you’re the first friend-ish person I've had that also wears glasses!"

You smiled at each other for a moment.

This was amusing.

He was amusing.

Unfortunately, someone popped the bubble encasing you and Scott. "Wow, 'friendish'? That's an upgrade from them low-key hating each other."

You whipped your head around to see Peter and Jean standing on the other side of the aisle, clearly having been observing and talking about you.

Scott spoke first. "How long have you two been standing there?"

"Long enough," Jean smiled. "You two get along."

"...So?" Scott asked.

"So, about an hour ago that seemed completely impossible."

An hour? That couldn’t be possible. "Wait, what time is it?"

Jean responded. "12:45, you’ve sure been chatting for a long time."

Scott cleared his throat and turned to you, "So, uh, you should buy that book, and then we should head to the movie theater room thingie."

You looked back at him. "Yeah! Ok, so... yeah."

After you and Scott walked away, Peter leaned over to whisper to Jean. "Well, that was a long glance. We've really gotta lock 'em in a closet together or something."

Jean shoved Peter, and you all went about your mall trip as you did before, except that now you might have a new friend... ish.

#tw swearing #scott summers x reader #x men #scott summers #tw eating #writer's block #am i right?#i really hope this is good #i did research on cars for this #also i know hank has glasses but him and scott aren't really friends they're more like a teacher student thing so shut up

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kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years ago

Text

Flower

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: Aww I loved the one shot with mother nature and Warren! I loved how her eyes turned pink, when she saw Warren! I'd like to know more about them. Could you give us a little fluffy glimpse into their relationship? Thank you, my dear! You're amazing! 💕

Warnings: language, brief nudity, mention of vaping, and underage drinking (everyone is 18+ unless stated otherwise)

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: I haven’t written anything in awhile but I’m trying to get back into things! Also I know this isn’t a glimpse into their relationship but I’m going to write some cute fluffy date one shots for them

Warren’s heart was pounding as he watched her from across the room. She was all he could think about, the class had no interest for him at the moment. He wanted to spend every second of his day with her, basking in her aura, living through every cliche they checked off together—

“Warren?”

“Huh?” He lost his train of thought and looked up at the teacher.

“What’s so important you’re not focusing on the board?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. Nothing, sorry.” A few kids snickered, and the teacher told them to stop, before continuing with the lecture.

“Now, does anyone know when the Cold War ended?”

Warren kept his head down and quickly scribbled down notes.

(Y/N) raised her hand and was called on. “1991.”

Warren glanced at her again, reality sinking in for him…

Warren and (Y/N) were not dating. They were just friends.

Sure, they’d kissed twice and held hands once, but so did most middle schoolers in their first relationship.

Warren sighed and wrote down key facts about the fall of the Berlin wall.

Her eyes never faltered from their bright and soft pink hue when around him though— which meant she still liked him, despite what his mind told him at two in the morning.

Scott and Jubilee told him he just needed to “ask her out.”

Easier said than done.

He didn’t want to just “ask her out”. He wanted to know her favorite color, the handful of youtube videos she would listen to for background noise while doing homework or tending to plants, her favorite comfort meal— Warren wanted more than the usual comfort he had with their friends, sitting in the group, not saying much, zoning out often. (Y/N) trusted him and saw the good in him. Warren wanted to prove her right— that he was more than his past mistakes and scars.

He needed to spend more time with her, like when they finished their history paper and ate grilled cheese and played never have I ever.

He wanted more of that, but he had no idea how to ask for it.

—

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Scott asked for the millionth time.

“I have no interest in a house party,” Warren responded dryly. “I don’t like parties, and I’m trying to quit drinking.”

“But you hardly ever go out with us!” Kurt complained.

“I won’t have fun. I have no reason to go.”

Scott sighed, ready to leave Warren be until someone came into the room.

“Oh my gosh, Scott, Warren, hi!” She greeted them, clearly not expecting to run into them.

“Kurt, Jubilee wanted to borrow your Thriller jacket. Not for tonight, but tomorrow, and I told her I’d tell you if I saw you…”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just give it to her now.” Kurt walked over to his closet.

“So… Warren…” (Y/N) fidgeted with her hands.

He immediately perked up, “Yeah?”

“Are you— um, I don’t know if someone already said— but are you going to the party tonight?”

“Are you?” He was sure she could hear his heart beating in his chest like a drum solo in an 80s hair band song.

“Yeah! I almost always go to parties.”

“Oh…” Maybe he would have fun if he went out for once in his life. “Yeah, I’m going.”

“That’s great!” (Y/N) was a little too enthusiastic and tried to hide her excitement with her words. “Um, we could maybe hang out then?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, sounds good.”

“Great! I’ll see you later…” Warren nodded and hummed in reply. Kurt was long gone, having gone to Jubilee’s room to give her his red jacket.

(Y/N) bid Scott goodbye and left.

“I can’t believe it…” Scott was utterly dumbfounded. All (Y/N) had to do was mutter a few words and just like that— Warren was going to the party. Warren never went to house parties with the group.

“You never go to house parties.”

“First time for everything… Now get out, I wanna shower before we leave.”

“Fine, fine.” Scott raised his hands in defense. “I’m leaving.”

Soon as the door shut, Warren ran to the bathroom to shower.

He began to run shampoo through his hair and lather. Then he moved onto conditioning his ends, letting it sit for a while as he washed his body with soap and an exfoliator.

Warren rinsed out the conditioner, and hopped out of the shower, scrunching the ends of his hair with a towel. He left them semi-damp and quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth, and put on deodorant.

He didn’t bother to wrap a towel around his waist as he went to his closet to pick out something to wear.

“Jeans and a t-shirt?” Warren held a David Bowie tee in his hands, before throwing it on his bed. “What was that thing Jubilee said?... Accessorize?... Do I own accessories?”

Warren opened his desk drawer to try and see if he even owned any.

He had a few old chains and some silver rings.

“These should work… but is a t-shirt too plain? Should I do better? Would a black turtleneck look nicer?”

Warren put his clothes and accessories on and looked in the mirror. “Yeah, yeah this looks good.”

Warren dug in his closet a bit more, looking for something specific.

Cologne. “Is this too much? I never wear this.” He grabbed his phone and googled “where to apply cologne”.

He rolled up his sleeves and starting applying a little to his wrists, forearms, and neck. “That should be good.” Warren looked at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair before heading downstairs to meet up with his friends.

—

“She just bat her eyes and suddenly Warren decided to go to the party,” Scott explained to his girlfriend and her roommate as they got ready for the party.

“Well, he likes her, Scott.” Jean pointed out.

“I’m just shocked—”

“We could get her to get him to do anything…” Jubilee thought out loud.

“Yeah, but (Y/N)’s too nice. She wouldn’t want to abuse the power she has over him, and she’s probably unaware of it anyway.”

“Do we have enough room in the car?” Jubilee asked as she applied mascara.

“Kurt said he and Ororo were going to teleport and get there a bit earlier than the rest of us,” Scott said face looking down at his phone.

Jubilee rolled her eyes.

“I think Noah’s going,” Jean offered up as she slipped her socks on.

“I might get him to play seven minutes in heaven with me.”

Scott squinted his eyes. “Noah Fence? He smells like mango-flavored vape.”

“He doesn’t actually vape— his sister does and her car broke so he’s been driving her to swim practice and stuff.”

“Still, it’s gross.”

Jubilee glared at him through the mirror, “You’re gross.”

Jean shut down the argument before it could escalate, “Are you guys ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Good, let’s go.”

—

Warren ran into (Y/N) as he was heading to the garage.

“Hey,” He greeted her.

“Oh, hi! You look nice...” Her eyes were pink as she looked at him. A constant reminder of the feelings looming over them.

“Oh— oh. Uh, thanks.” Warren’s face was slightly flushed from the compliment.

“You smell nice too… Not that you don’t smell nice all the time!” Her eyes went fully purple in embarrassment. “Or that you’re gross— you just smell really nice tonight— um, I’m just going to stop talking. Uh, sorry.”

“No, you’re fine. Um, thank you.” Warren bit his lip and fidgeted with his hands as he and (Y/N) waited for the others to get to the garage.

(Y/N) awkwardly nodded and was silent, refusing to meet his eyes.

Oh god… Warren thought to himself. She probably thinks I look scary… I should have just worn a hoodie and called it a day… She’s not going to want to be around me all night and then I’ll—

As the rest of the group entered the garage Jean interrupted his train of thought to explain (Y/N)’s demeanor.

“She’s flustered, Bird Brain… She thinks you look hot.”

“Oh… What?”

Jean rolled her eyes and called out “Shotgun!” So she could sit next to Scott on the ride there.

“I’m not sitting in the middle,” Jubilee said as she opened the car door.

“Fine,” (Y/N) sighed. “I’ll sit in the middle… Warren, do you want the left or right side?”

“I don’t care.” Warren was nervous to sit next to (Y/N). He knew it would be perfect for them to make small talk, but Warren had no idea what to talk about.

Jubilee sat on (Y/N)’s right, so Warren had to sit on the left.

“Can I have the aux cord?” Jubilee asked.

“No,” Scott said, waiting for everyone to put on seatbelts before pulling out of Xaiver’s large garage. “You had it last time, and all you did was play songs from Phinneas and Ferb.”

“Yeah, because they’re major bops!”

“Who’s Phinneas and Ferb?” Warren whispered to (Y/N).

She gasped, “You’ve never seen Phinneas and Ferb?”

Warren shook his head, “No?”

“What?” Scott asked. “It’s a classic— you know Perry the Platipus and Dr. Doofensmurzt.”

“Uh…” Warren was extremely confused.

“Oh my god! We need to have a Phinneas and Ferb marathon! Me, you,” (Y/N) Poked Warren’s arm. “Pizza, some breadsticks— we could do it next weekend.”

“Sure. I’m not busy.” If Warren knew not watching some kid show about a platypus growing up would lead to him spending more time with (Y/N), possibly alone, he would have said something sooner.

“Were you one of those kids who only watched PBS? Jean asked.

“The channel with all those British dramas?”

“No no, PBS kids— Arthur, Martha Speaks, Cyberchase, those shows?”

“Never heard of them,” Warren awkwardly admitted.

“What’d you watch as a kid then?”

“Um, a lot of old black and white movies… Psycho, M, Frankenstein, Vampyr… My mom really liked them, and we had a bunch so…” Warren shrugged.

“Wait you watched those as a kid?” Jubilee asked. “How old were you?”

“Like eight? I dunno. That’s just what I grew up with.”

“Hey, so uh, I just googled whatever M is. And uh— what the fuck?” Saying (Y/N) was shocked would be an understatement.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? Like, do you need a hug? I’m very worried for you. Maybe we should go home and watch like kids cartoons or something—”

Warren couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but he knew she was extremely bothered. (Y/N) rarely swore.

“It’s a good movie to teach kids about stranger danger,” Warren explained what his parents told him.

“It’s about a man murdering children!”

“(Y/N), almost all kids watch a scary movie or two—” Scott misread the situation. “Alex let me watch The Exorcist when I was 10.”

“Scary?” Warren asked Scott. “I didn’t—”

“What do you know! We are finally here!” Jean cut off Warren, glaring at Scott.

“Let’s go find Ororo and Kurt— I think Sarah Byer was bringing white claws.”

Warren was a little unsure about the party once he stepped out of the car. He’d worked hard to stay sober for a few months and he didn’t want to break his streak.

But (Y/N) grabbed his hand as they walked toward the sound of Travis Scott playing through speakers, and he decided to devote his night to her completely.

After all, she was the only reason he eve agreed to come.

“Ever been to a house party before?” (Y/N) asked.

“No, but I went to clubs in Germany. It’s the same right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so. Except no one is 21, and there’s chanting depending on if the host’s school won their weekend football game or not.”

Warren smiled at (Y/N)’s joke. “The drinking age in Germany is 16. I wasn’t even carded when I went to places.” (Y/N) snickered as she fixed herself a drink.

“That’s Smirnoff, can you handle that?” Warren was concerned, to say the least. He’d never seen (Y/N) drink, or even drunk.

But you know what they say, “First time for everything.”

“I’m not going to have it without a chaser! Look, I know I don’t really drink, but I deserve this. I had a very hard week— one of the new students set my painting for class on fire, and now I have to start over and it’s worth 30% of my grade. I’m going to let loose a little.”

Warren sighed, “Just don’t chug it. Speaking from experience.”

“Thanks, Birdie.”

Warren’s insides felt fuzzy at the sound of the nickname but blamed it on the loud environment.

(Y/N) took a few sips before grabbing Warren’s hand again and dragging him into another room of the house. “Come on! There are some kids from Bayville I want to introduce you too.”

—

(Y/N) found a mixed group of Xavier and Bayville students and had her and Warren join the conversation.

“Guys, this is Warren,” (Y/N) introduced him to the group.

A few hellos and names were given out for Warren and he just smiled and waved.

“(Y/N) you look different, like not bad, but like different—” A girl with a split dye said.

“I’ve got more flowers in my hair.”

“It might be the lighting, but your eyes look different…”

“Oh, uh, yeah…” (Y/N) took a large sip from her cup and avoided the other girl’s gaze as her eyes went from pink to purple. “New color, haha.”

Warren was blushing, thinking it was his fault she was so embarrassed.

The girl with the split dye looked at him and then it clicked in her mind, “Oh… Oh…! Cute, cute.”

“Shut up!” (Y/N) joking told her. “We’re just friends…”

Warren tried to hide his nervousness with a half-assed chuckle, “Yep.”

“Whatever, I’m going to look for Kurt.”

The girl walked off and several people from the group had wandered away as well.

(Y/N) took another large sip of her drink. “Um, do you like, want to see what like Jubilee is doing or something? We don’t just have to stand around…” Her head started to feel heavy, but she ignored the feeling.

“Sure. Lead the way.” (Y/N) smiled and interlaced her fingers with his, dragging him into the main room.

Jubilee was in the den with a few other kids playing truth or dare.

“Hey, guys, can we join?”

“Hey! (Y/N)! Sure, but I want an orange.”

She giggled and sat down on the ground, Warren copying her movement. (Y/N) held her hand out for a moment, focusing on the orange growing in the palm of her hand.

“Is a cutie good? All I can do right now,” She huffed.

“Yeah, that’s good.” She handed the mini orange over and officially joined the game.

“Jubilee,” Some guy with glasses and a sports team t-shirt said. “I dare you to kiss Noah!”

“Pfft… Easy.” Noah was sitting to her left, so all Jubilee had to do was turn to face him, grab his shirt, and pull him into her, smashing her lips against his drunkenly and aggressively.

The group let out drunken cheers and someone even wolf-whistled.

Warren considered getting a drink, for he was way too sober for all of this. But he remembered (Y/N) had been drinking. A lot. What if something happened to her? What if she blacked out? What if she threw up? Warren didn’t want to risk it just so some silly house party could be more bearable for him.

“I said kiss him not swallow his face!”

“You didn’t specify.” Jubilee shot back. “My turn!... (Y/N), truth, or dare.”

Someone booed. “She only picks truth.”

(Y/N) swallowed more of the liquid in her cup before answering. “Nu-uh! Jube, I pick dare.”

“I dare you to take your bra off for the rest of the night!”

Warren’s eyes widened a little as she reached behind her back under her top to unclasp her bra.

“Wooo!” A few people cheered.

“Take your top off too.” One of the guys joked. Warren shot him a dirty look and the guy got very quiet and looked away.

My scary looks actually came in handy.

(Y/N) and Warren played for a few more rounds, but by then the game was getting kind of boring for (Y/N) and she wanted to do something else.

“Ooo! Warren they’re playing a really good song, come on!” She dragged him out of the den and to the main room.

He didn’t recognize the song, but it wasn’t bad. (Y/N) quickly chugged everything left in her cup and handed it along with her bra to Warren. “Can you hold these? Please…?”

Warren couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to.

(Y/N) started drunkenly dancing along to the beat, having the time of her life. Warren moved a little bit with her, a bit more aware of his surroundings and socially awkward.

“Loosen up!” She giggled.

“I’m sober.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun! C’mere—” She took his arms and guided them to wrap around her waist, forcing him to keep up with her drunken swaying. She guided his hands down to her ass, despite having her bra and empty cup in one of them.

“Woah!” Warren quickly moved his hands away from her ass.

(Y/N)’s eyes turned grey and purple. “Sorry… I thought you’d like that…”

“Maybe when you haven’t had two cups full of vodka.”

“They weren’t full. There was lemonade and some mint leaves in there.”

Warren nodded, going with what she was saying, “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious! You— you saw me! What— Whatever… Let’s keep dancing.”

Warren obliged and they danced together for a few more songs. Mostly just (Y/N) waving her hands around and Warren making sure she didn’t trip— but dancing nonetheless.

“Hey, I’m—” (Y/N)’s hand flew to her mouth and she stood still for a moment.

“Hey, hey—” Warren put his hand on her back. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No, no, I’m fine! I’m fine…” She tried to drunkenly reassure him.

“Maybe we should go home. It’s late and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Aww… Birdie…”

“I’m going to text the group chat to let them know we’re leaving. We can get an uber or something.”

Warren

(Y/N) almost puked I’m taking her back to the mansion.

Jubilee

Get that plussy!, you sexi Draco Malfoy type

Jean

No offense is going home too! He lives near Xaiver’s ask for a ride

Jean

*Noah Fence

Warren took (Y/N) outside and saw Noah on the front porch. “Hey, Noah.”

“Hey! Warren, right?” Warren nodded.

“Hi, Noahhhhhh…” (Y/N) slurred out. “Jubilee thinks you’re really cute…”

Noah chuckled, “I know, we kissed during truth or dare. Remember?”

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, deep in thought. “You did?”

“Uh-huh...” He met Warren’s gaze, “You guys need a ride?”

“Yeah, Jean said you lived near Xavier’s?”

Noah nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I live in the neighborhood over.”

Warren opened the passenger door for (Y/N) and helped her step in the car.

“You can sit in the front if you want, more space.” Noah offered.

“I’m okay. Thanks though.”

“Okay.” Noah turned his car on, the radio automatically playing. He quickly turned it off before backing out of his parking spot and heading onto the road of the neighborhood.

(Y/N) was starting to fall asleep on the ride home. Her eyes slowly closing, and her head falling to the side, resting on Warren’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her to make it more comfortable.

The tension between the two boys made the car ride a bit awkward.

“So… uh, Jubilee said this was your first house party with (Y/N).”

“Yep.”

“Are you guys like dating or…?”

“Um…” No was technically the right answer, but it didn’t feel right. (Y/N) and Warren had kissed, twice. And her eyes were still pink around him no matter what. She liked him and he liked her.

Warren really needed to grow a pair and just say “Screw best friends to lovers” or whatever he used as an excuse as to why he put off asking her out.

“It’s complicated…” He told Noah.

“Ah… I see…”

“Yeah, I don’t know—”

“No, I get it. I get it. Jubilee and I never really put labels on whatever we are, and like, I’m cool with it. But it gets weird sometimes. I dunno…”

Warren awkwardly chuckled, “Yeah… Relationships are… complicated.”

Noah pulled into the front through the gates, stopping his car to let Warren and (Y/N) out.

“(Y/N)...” Warren gently nudged her awake.

“Hmmm… What?”

“We’re home. You gotta wake up.”

“Aw…”

Warren opened the car and helped her out. “Thanks for the ride, Noah.”

“Yeah, no problem! See you guys later.”

“See ya.”

Noah drove away as Warren and (Y/N) went through Xavier’s garage to enter the mansion.

“Where—Where’s my bra?” (Y/N) cupped her breasts in confusion as they walked up the stairs to the dorm floor.

“You took it off and gave it to me.”

“Oh…” (Y/N) looked at the bra warren had hanging from his forearm. “You can keep it…”

“I don’t— I don’t have boobs.”

“Oh…” Her face fell.

“Ah!” A light went off in her mind. “You have pecs though.”

Warren blushed, “Yeah, but, you need this more than me.”

(Y/N) sighed as she opened the door to her room. “Fine… set it on the desk.” She kicked her shoes off.

“Want to grab your toothbrush?” He asked.

“I’m tired…”

“I know, but you’ll thank me later if you at least brush your teeth.”

“Fine.” She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste out of a bag.

“We can use my bathroom. That way I’ll stop you from falling asleep at the sink.”

“Lead the way, Birdie.” Warren obliged, and led her out of her room towards his. (Y/N) quietly linked her pinkie with his. Toothbrush in her other hand.

Warren’s heart fluttered inside his ribcage.

He quietly opened the door and turned the light on. (Y/N) followed him inside.

They both went into the bathroom, (Y/N) standing in front of the sink, and Warren sitting on the closed toilet like it was a chair.

She stood there, looking in the mirror for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked, thinking she zoned out.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) nodded. “My eyes are really pretty… I like the pink...” She looked at Warren and grinned.

“You’re so drunk.” He teased.

“I am.” (Y/N) turned the water on and wet her toothbrush, then put the toothpaste on, before bringing it up to her mouth.

She didn’t do a great job at brushing her teeth, her hands tired and she kept laughing at nothing, but she still brushed them nonetheless.

(Y/N) rinsed her toothbrush off when finished. She yawned, and Warren stood up.

“Need me to carry you?” He offered.

“Oh…” Her eyes turned purple. “I’m too big…”

Warren shrugged, “I can lift like five-hundred pounds, you’ll be like a flower in my arms.”

She looked at him, tired and eyes wide, “Okay.”

Warren scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, and carried her back to her room. (Y/N) buried her face into his chest, enjoying the moment in a haze.

Warren left the light off and set (Y/N) on her bed.

(Y/N) took her pants off, throwing them on the floor along with her top.

Warren’s eyes widened— he looked into her eyes— avoiding glancing down and overstepping boundaries.

“Why do you keep starring at my face?” She asked as she plugged her phone in.

“Uh, you don’t, um… I don’t— you’re naked.”

“Oh! I’m naked!” (Y/N) quickly got under her covers and drew them up to her neck.

Warren chuckled lightly at her antics, “Yeah. You are.”

(Y/N) yawned and shifted in her bed, getting comfortable.

“Do you have water and pain killers?”

“Uh-huh… my bag.” She mumbled.

“Take those in the morning, okay?”

“Mhmm…” She hummed.

“Okay…” Warren patted her head. “Goodnight, Flower.”

“Goodnight…”

Once Warren had left, (Y/N) felt like she melted into mush under her blanket.

He called me Flower… and he pet my head… I think I’m in love with him…

She quickly fell asleep after that, with the moment playing on loop in her tired mind.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington oneshot #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii oneshot #x-men x reader #xmen x reader #x men x reader #x-men oneshot #mother nature reader #mother nature! y/n #warren worthington x mother nature #warren worthington iii x mother nature

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips.

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him.

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal."

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days.

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most.

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner.

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses.

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

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tisfan · 4 years ago

Text

Black Thumb, Green Wallet

Title: Black Thumb / Green Wallet Collaborator Name: @tisfan Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019287 Square Filled: O3: “Why do I even Bother?” Ship/Main Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: teen Major Tags & Triggers: none Summary: Tony doesn’t know anything about plants. Bucky-- has no idea who this crazy guy is, but he has a cute butt and is willing to help out. Guess gardening 101 is in session Word Count: 1397 For @monobuu For @starkbucksbingo

“Why do I even bother,” Tony said, looking disgusted. The plants, which had been bright and cheerful a few days before were limp, drooping, and one of them had turned black. He wasn’t sure which one was more pathetic, the dead one or the one where all the leaves had fallen off.

It wouldn’t be so bad, really, except that Pepper had given him the plants, specifically for his birthday. And she and her husband Happy were coming to visit for the fourth of July weekend. Tony’s balcony had a good view of the fireworks and they could drink and eat without being surrounded by people.

It had been a while since Tony had seen her in person, really. The plants had been part of some delivery system, and Tony had watered them and put them in the windowsill.

He thought he’d even managed to water them more than once.

Probably. He thought.

Pepper wouldn’t say anything if she didn’t see the plants. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t that kind of person. But she would look around for them, and then for just a second, her eyebrows would get that little wrinkle and Tony would know she was disappointed in him, once again.

There were so many people who were disappointed in Tony on such a regular basis, it was hard to admit to disappointing Pepper.

“Fine,” he exploded at the empty air. “Fine.” He gathered up the little stakes from the plants that told him what they all were. There had to be someone at the nursery -- he was pretty sure that garden shops were called nurseries. Maybe they were called nunneries. Now he couldn’t remember, damnit. -- that knew enough to get him at least replacement plants and he could pretend everything was fine.

Like when he was eight and his mom forgot to tell the maids to feed the goldfish while they were on vacation, and she had them replaced with new fish. Like he wouldn’t notice.

Well, Pepper at least hadn’t seen the plants.

Had she? He thumbed through his texts and emails to her to see if he’d mailed any photographs. And no, he hadn’t. Except for one, but maybe he could tell her he’d had to repot that plant.

Probably.

Right?

Jesus, he was in trouble.

“Hey, hey, excuse me,” someone said. Bucky, who was staring into the endless depths of the delivery truck and knowing for a fact that Quill was slacking somewhere in the back with his headphones in, sighed. He was the only employee out in the nursery, which was usually fine, but then someone had to go and want to know why the begonias weren’t on sale.

Lady, I don’t make policy around here.

Can you carry this to my car? No.

Would you-- No.

Bucky didn’t bother to answer. He laid another flat of pansies on the handtruck and started wheeling it down the truck’s ramp. If he didn’t get the plants unloaded by the time the driver got back, the driver would leave, half the flowers undelivered, and then there’d be hell to pay.

“Hi, yes,” the guy said as Bucky rolled the flat down the ramp. “So, I looked around and there’s no one else here, and I hate to bother you--”

Bucky gave the guy his thousand yard stare, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. Right. “How can I help you, sir?”

“So, like, I don’t know anything about plants--”

Oh, Christ.

“Neither do I,” Bucky lied. He was, in fact, a master gardener, and he’d convinced the owner of Hydra Hardware to add on the nursery, but it also meant he was extremely overworked. “I just pick up heavy things and put them down. I gotta unload this truck, man.”

“If I help you unload, will you answer some questions?”

What?

Bucky looked the guy over; he was wearing painted on jeans and a ratty band t-shirt that showed off biceps for days. Did a very slow pan and scan, and even added in a little twirl of his finger. He wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to embarrass the guy, or what, but holy crow, the rear view was really, really nice.

“Don’t suppose you have better shoes than that out in your car,” Bucky said,

“Huh?”

“You’re wearing keds. If you drop something on your foot, you’ll break a toe, and I don’t want to get sued for that.”

“Wha-- oh, you know, I have steel-toed boots in the trunk, if I get them, and help you, will you answer some questions about plants?”

“Sure, why not.”

Because Bucky was almost positive that the guy did not have work boots in his car, probably some doc martin knock offs, which were great for working a shift behind the counter at the coffee shop, but still weren’t up for dropping a flat on your foot.

“Great, you’ve saved my life, sunshine,” the guy said, and dashed off. He actually ran pretty fast, Bucky noted.

Well, stranger things had happened, but Bucky couldn’t remember when. He shook his head and got back to work. He’d almost forgotten about the guy when he came back, wearing black boots and a baseball hat. “Huh, are those mining boots?”

“Matterhorns,” the man said. “I do a lot of workshop stuff-- rebuilding engines and stuff. Got tired of replacing my boots every three months.”

“Huh, okay, then. I gotta get all these flats off the truck in the next thirty minutes. You know how to operate a hand truck, or you just want to load, an’ I’ll take them down the ramp?”

“I got this,” the man said, and he pulled out a pair of work gloves, and got down to it. Nice. Bucky’d probably get fired if Pierce came out and saw him putting a customer to work, but Pierce didn’t come out of the back office all that often. “My name’s Tony, by the way.”

“Bucky--” Bucky displayed his employee name tag. “Nice to meet you.”

The guy was strong, shifting the plants as if he did more to get those muscles than go to the gym. Gym rats couldn’t pick up shit, they knew how to lift a weight bar, but not how to pick up one side of a washing machine without throwing their back out.

“So, what’s your boggle?” Bucky asked after most of the flats were unloaded. “Bring those with you, I gotta rack ‘em.”

“So, one of my friends got me some plants to liven up my condo,” Tony said. “And-- I’m not so good with plants, and they all died.”

“Happens,” Bucky said, philosophically. “What plants?”

Tony handed him a bunch of plant stake labels.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said. “And what did you do with them?”

“Put them in the windowsill and watered them every few days,” Tony said, crossing his heart like Bucky wouldn’t believe him.

“Okay, well, first off, some of these need more light than that, and some need less, and this one doesn’t need to be watered all that often.”

“So, you can help me?”

“Depends,” Bucky said. “If you want replacements so your lady friend won’t sneer at you and you might get laid--”

“Pepper is a friend’s wife,” Tony said, grumpily. “And I don’t date women anyway. I’m a failure as one of those sitcom type gays, though. I don’t keep my house clean, I’m only a snazzy dresser if I have someone else picking out my wardrobe, and I don’t know the first thing about interior decorating. Queer Eye would completely disown me.”

“No, Queer Eye would help you,” Bucky said, grinning. “But I guess we can go with Queer Eye for the Plant Guy. Look, you tell me what kind of lifestyle you’ve got and what you want your plants to do-- not what Pepper thinks you should have, and I’ll help you get all set up, and teach you how to take care of them. I can give you some good website resources, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure can,” Bucky said. He waved at the truck driver as Kurt packed up and pulled out. “Look, it’s my break now, come on, we can talk while I eat.”

“Buy you a cup of coffee and a danish?” Tony jerked a thumb at the bakery across the street. “And you can teach me all your planty secrets?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky said.

#starkbucksbingo #winteriron #meet cute #I didn't choose plant life #plant life chose me

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

Text

all we can do

Prompt: carry/support (alt no.15)

Whumpee: Kurt Wallander

Fandom: Young Wallander

welcome back to my second fic for a fandom that barely exists! i finished the show today and i felt like we got so robbed of an ending that like. properly Dealt with the fallout of the explosion so i did this. unfortunately it’s not very good but oh well. what can you do. this is set in the night after the explosion and it could be canon compliant? the show isn’t super clear on the timing of everything so idk. whatever lol. hope you enjoy this if you read it for some reason!

Kurt is numb. His ears haven’t stopped ringing since the explosion. He’s still covered in dust and small pieces of debris. He sees the people around him cry, but finds himself incapable. He doesn’t feel anything. He’s running on autopilot.

His autopilot leads him to a bar, where he sinks down onto a stool and drinks and doesn’t even register the people around him staring and whispering.

He drinks and drinks and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he wants the alcohol to keep him numb. Maybe he’s hoping it’ll tear down enough of his internal defenses that the pain of reality will come screaming back.

Whatever his intentions might have been, he winds up drunk out of his mind with a bartender threatening to throw him out. He doesn’t want to leave. There are people here. If he leaves, he will be alone with himself, and he thinks that that is a remarkably bad idea at the moment.

But the bartender keeps insisting that he leave. That he’s had enough to drink. Finally, he asks if there’s someone he can call, and Kurt thinks, of course, of Reza.

His friend picks up on the first ring, asking him something like, are you all right?

“No, I’m smashed,” Kurt says. He thinks that’s kind of funny, for reasons he can’t explain. He laughs. “I’m so fucking drunk, Rez.”

He hears Reza say something, muffled. Then he hears Jasmine’s voice reply. “Hi, Jasmine,” he calls, and the bartender snaps at him to be quieter.

“Hey, Kurt,” Jasmine says, sounding subdued.

“Did you hear Hemberg got blown up?” he asks, because he knows she has.

“I did,” she says, and then Reza is back speaking to him. “I’m comin’ to get you, alright?”

He nods, and then says, “yeah,” when his alcohol-soaked brain reminds him that he can’t be seen over the phone. He hangs up, and then just sits there.

He stares at the ground, watching Gustav Munck’s car explode, hearing his own voice yell to Hemberg, over and over again, until a hand on his shoulder jolts him out of his memories.

Reza is standing there, and there’s this terrible look on his face and for a second Kurt tries to think of why, and then remembers. “It’s so sad, isn’t it,” he says. “One second, you’re there, and then...boom. Just like that, Rez. Boom.” The car explodes again. He tastes smoke.

Reza flinches a little at Kurt’s words. “You’re drunk, Kurt,” he says. “Come with me.”

“I am drunk,” Kurt replies. “I’m drunk and I can’t feel anything, Rez. Nothing.”

“I know. Let’s get you up, yeah?”

And then Reza’s arm is under his own, and he’s being lifted to his feet. The sudden change in position makes him dizzy, and he nearly collapses, saved only by Reza’s arm around him.

The walk out of the bar is extremely difficult. Kurt barely does any work at all, fully supported by Reza, who is half-dragging him along. All the while, Kurt is talking about Hemberg, Munck, the explosion, in a neverending circle, and all the while, the car explodes in front of him, and smoke fills his field of vision.

The car ride is silent. Kurt is staring out the window without seeing anything but flames. Reza is avoiding looking over at his best friend, hating what he knows he’ll see. Kurt’s in shock, he’d recognized that the second he’d called. Kurt can’t feel anything, and he’s too drunk to understand the words he’s saying, which are belaying how he feels under the layers of alcohol and shock.

Reza pulls to a stop at his house and opens the passenger door, but Kurt remains in his seat. Reza can’t tell if he looks worse than he did in the bar, or if it’s just the light from the car illuminating how badly he’s looked all this time: caked in residue from the explosion, because he’d refused to go to the hospital. Pale as hell, because his boss is dead, because he hasn’t caught the man responsible. Half-asleep, because he’d decided to go get drunk instead of do something as reasonable as reach out.

He pulls Kurt gently out of the car, hearing the other man make a faint, unconscious noise of pain, the first indication that he’s in any kind of pain at all. Reza looks him over worriedly, checking for any injury that Kurt had somehow not realized he’d gotten.

Sure enough, there’s a splotch of red slowly seeping through his shirt. “You’re bleeding, man, you know that?” Reza asks, sure that the answer will be no.

“I dunno,” says Kurt. “Don’t feel anything.”

“Can you walk?”

“I dunno,” is Kurt’s answer, again.

“If you’re not walking, I swear I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside,” Reza says, intending to say it as a threat.

It’s clearly not received that way. “Okay,” Kurt says, and he makes no move to stand.

Reza sighs briefly before reaching down and picking Kurt up, trying to be mindful of whatever injury he has. He carries Kurt up to the front door, and wonders, vaguely, if he’s always been this light.

He opens the door with the hand not holding onto Kurt, then shuffles inside and into the living room, setting Kurt down on the couch carefully.

Jasmine comes out of their room then, gasping aloud when she sees the man on her couch. “Kurt,” she says, softly, and goes to sit down next to him, putting a hand on his smudged cheek.

“He’s been like this since...since the explosion?” she asks, turning to Reza.

“Wouldn’t let anyone touch him,” Reza confirms. “He’s in shock, I think. Says he can’t feel anything.”

“He’s bleeding.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Kurt interrupts. “Hi, Jasmine. Good to see you.”

She gives him a sad smile. “Hi, Kurt.”

Reza comes and sits down on his other side, reaching out to remove Kurt’s jacket, and then his shirt.

“What’re you doing?” Kurt questions.

“Figuring out why you’re bleeding,” is Reza’s reply, and Kurt lapses into silence.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he repeats, after a moment of Reza poking around a thankfully-not-too-deep shrapnel wound. “It doesn’t hurt, Reza, why doesn’t it hurt?”

Reza stops what he’s doing and looks into Kurt’s face, seeing emotion there for the first time. His eyes are wet with as-yet-unshed tears, and although his statements are to the contrary, he looks so incredibly pained.

“It doesn’t hurt because you’re in shock,” Reza explains gently, as Jasmine takes over tending to his wound. Kurt looks at the floor. The car has stopped exploding, but still, all he can smell is smoke.

“Can you make it stop?” he asks, not really sure what it is he’s referring to.

“You’ll come out of it on your own,” Reza says, wishing he could say something more comforting. “Dunno if you’ll feel better when you do.”

Jasmine finishes bandaging his wound, and for a moment the three of them just sit there, Reza’s hand on Kurt’s back, Jasmine’s hand in his hair.

“Would you mind if we cleaned you up?” Jasmine asks, pulling a piece of something out of Kurt’s hair.

Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t care. He pokes at the newly-bandaged gash in his stomach, wishing that he could feel it. Reza’s hand pulls him away from that particular task, and he feels Jasmine stand up on his other side.

She returns after a second, and then there’s a warm washcloth rubbing gently against his face and another one dragging across his torso. Slowly, they begin to take away the smell of smoke that’s been following him all day, and by the time they’ve finished, he feels different.

Less drunk, for one. Cleaner, for another. But the most notable change is the sudden stab of pain in his stomach.

“I can feel it now,” he says, feeling his voice shake. “Oh god, I feel it,” he says, and then it’s not his voice shaking but his body, and he’s crying and whimpering and in a matter of seconds his world has gone from cold and numb to brutally hot and painful, and then he’s crying so hard that he stops making any noise at all, and all the while he feels hands on him, gentle and warm, rubbing his shoulders and touching his face.

At some point, the pain reaches a crescendo, and Kurt almost pitches over from the force of the emotions that are pouring out of him unhindered. Before he can, though, an arm extends across his chest and another one grips his shoulders, both of them supporting him, keeping him upright.

Reza and Jasmine hold onto Kurt as he breaks completely, and they keep holding on when he finally cries himself to sleep. They share a look over his head.

“Poor guy,” is Reza’s only observation regarding Kurt. “What a way to go…” he adds, shaking his head. He can’t believe any of this. That Hemberg is really dead. That Kurt watched him die. That his killer is most likely never going to be brought to justice.

“I can’t imagine,” Jasmine says. “And Kurt being there…” she trails off, reaching out to grab Reza’s hand. “How do we all get through this?”

“I don’t know,” Reza confesses. “We just have to be there, I think. Like you two were for me. It’s all we can do, really.”

Between them, Kurt makes a soft noise in his sleep, wrinkling up his face. Jasmine returns a gentle hand to his hair, in an effort to calm him down without waking him. Reza places a hand on his chest, feeling Kurt’s heart beat just slightly too fast.

“I’m so sorry, man,” he says quietly, and feels Jasmine lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

i’m very sorry if my depictions of shock were not accurate i did not feel like being accurate lol. anyway this ending sucks butt and tbh the whole story kinda does too...but whatever hope you enjoyed anyway? not that anyone is gonna read this lmao.

#whumptober2020 #altno.15 #carry/support #young wallander #fic #kurt wallander #shock #aftermath of explosion #emotional whump #crying #supported walk #i say things #my writing #supported

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lovingthereign25 · 4 years ago

Text

The Chase

Part 9

The morning light beamed through the curtains of yours and Roman's shared bedroom. You turn over seeing your husband already staring at you.

"Good morning Beautiful" he says in his raspy morning voice

"Good morning my love'' you whisper

Roman pulled your body close to his giving you a good morning kiss, which is usually innocent but today Roman had other things on his mind. As his hands start you slide up your night shirt knowing all too well you were only in panties underneath, you stop him at your hips

"Roman the girls could wake up any minute." You whisper

"Not today baby,Your parents took them last night and they won't be home until later our moms were taking them out for a shopping day"he says grinding his hardened member into you.

''Shit I completely forgot" you remember

"It's fine baby, now come here and let me make love to my gorgeous wife" he smiles sliding your shirt over your head.

*November 2017*

In late October rumors the shield reunited. Kicking ass like they always did, taking care of the Miz and his lackeys then ending the night taking down Braun Stroman. Unfortunately seeing Roman in his Shield gear would have to wait he was diagnosed with mumps and out into isolation for three weeks, which he hated but what killed him the most was the fact that he couldn't be around his children .

Raw had been under siege two weeks ago by Smackdown live.And last week the New day cost Seth and Dean their tag titles. So this week Roman was back and baby was playing no games Stephanie was in the ring yelling at Kurt about how he does his job when the music hits. And Seth, Dean and Roman walked through the crowd into the ring confronting Stephanie and telling her they want a piece of the New Day.

Survivor Series is finally here. The shield vs the New Day was here. Roman fully dressed in his shield gear was here.

"Hey, Ro just checking to see if your ready Seth and Dean are waiting for you" you say entering his locker room

"Yeah just adjusting my vest" he says

You look him up and down, licking your lips, you don't know what it was but something about Roman in that gear just sent you over the edge.

"Your staring" he say with a smirk on his face

"Can't help it, I forgot how good you looked in that gear" you say walking up to him

"Down girl, my match is first" he laughs

"Well I don't have a match tonight so whatta say after your match we head to the hotel and break the gear in again" you say kissing his neck.

"Y/n, Please I can't go to the ring hard" he sighs

"Sorry, I've just been having such dirty thoughts about you in this gear... you're bringing out the naughty girl in me Daddy"

You tease

"Fuck, stop I need to head to the ring, you coming?'' he asks

"Hopefully I will be later" you wink slapping his ass

"Let's go'' he laughs shaking his head

As soon as Roman and you were alone in his locker room after the match your lips were on Roman. Anywhere and everywhere his lips,cheeks, jaw, neck, even the little but of exposed chest.

"Y/n, let me change" he moans

" No, no I want you to fuck me while you're in your gear" you pant

"Okay okay but not here baby, I'm not trying to pay a fine for fucking my wife" he laughs.

Once in the hotel room Roman had you undressed in seconds. Leaving you in just your panties just the way he liked it. Roman carried you to the bed throwing you down and sliding your panties to the slide feeling just how ready you were for him.

"You ready baby?"he asks, removing your underwear completely leaving you exposed to him.

"Yes, Roman have your way with me" you say pulling him by his vest to your lips for a kiss.

"I was planning to, Jesus I love you" he says pushing himself into you making your eyes roll back at how good it felt you be full of him

"Shit Ro, it feels so good" you say trying to grab onto anything on him to bring him closer to you knowing it wasn't really possible to be any closer then you two were in this moment

"Yeah, that's it baby girl take it, take it all'' he grunts pulling out of you completely flipping you on to your stomach. He runs his fingers down your spine giving your ass a quick snack before entering again thrusts getting harder and deeper each and every time.

"Fuck, Roman ahhh shit…. damn " you moan

"Shit Y/n always so freakin tight,I'm not gonna last much longer"he groans

'' I'm close Roman, so close" you moan out

After a few more thrusts you hit your climax screaming Roman's name loud enough for the entire rest of the 5th floor of the hotel to hear. Roman hitting his slightly after you spilling into the condom you agreed on. He laid on the bed patting the spot next to him for you to join him.

"Come on let's rest up before round two" he smiles

"Actually I'm gonna head out, I'm flying to Hawaii for Dakota and Reagan's wedding" you say, finding the rest of your clothes.

"Didn't know his wedding was this week, why didn't you say anything?" He asks

"I don't know, just figured you had a lot on your plate with the match and big reunion"

"He's our nephew Y/n, I would have made a change in my schedule" he says

"Technically he's my nephew, we're separated...until the divorce is finalized" you say

Roman had enough. He was pissed not only at the fact that you didn't tell him about your nephew's wedding but also because you were still gonna go through with the divorce after a few months of this jumping into his bed and vice versa.

"So the divorce is happening, is that what you're telling me?' he asks

"Well once both sets of papers are signed yeah that's how it usually works babe" you say

"Then what the hell are we doing Y/n?" He snaps

"What do you mean?" You ask

"This" he says pointing between the two of you "all the kissing ,rubbing on me , dirty talk calling me "Daddy" , all the sex we been having since September, I'm confused" he snaps again

"I don't know, it's just sex I guess, I love you I just can't forgive you Roman"

"You can't forgive me but you can fuck me" he hisses.

*March 2018*

If it was one thing you hated most in the world it was Roman fighting Brock Lesnar, not because he couldn't beat Brock cause he probably could it was because Brock played dirty and didn't follow WWE rules he did whatever the hell he wanted without any care for his opponent. But here you are weeks away from seeing the match you never wanted to see again. Roman and Brock's issues go further than the ring. It's about the passion and respect for the business that Roman and the other superstars have and Brock doesn't. It's about how Brock has had his eyes on you since you could remember and he always takes a shot to make sexual and inappropriate comments towards you. Brock hasn't shown up for Raw in weeks which left Roman pissed, leading him to express his opinion and landing him "suspended" . Anyway Roman was supposed to show up on Raw breaking suspension and be "arrested" and then Brock would make a move come down F5 Roman and that's it but of course that's not went down Brock attacked Roman while handcuff not once but twice leaving you no choice but to then get involved shoving the beast, slapping , punching , screaming at him to leave Roman alone.

Brock stops.

"That's nothing Big Dog, wait til Mania" he says laughing. You go with Roman to a medical center.

"You sure you're okay? You ask him

"Yea, I'm good, but Y/n you really shouldn't have got involved, Brock is unpredictable" he says

" Ro, if I hadn't there's no telling what he would have done to you" you say

" I'd rather me get hurt than you" he snaps

" You were handcuffed, I had to do something, I mean look at your freaking wrist they're bruised" you say rubbing your fingers softly across his bruises.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch him hurt you" you finish

*Wrestlemania 2018*

Your stomach was in knots, your nerves were completely shot. Roman's match was about to start, you were waiting for his music to hit.

" Y/n, I don't want you out here tonight, it's too dangerous" Roman says

"No way Roman, incase anything happens I will ant to be right there" you say

"Y/n, it's not a conversation,I already told Hunter and Steph I want you banned from ringside" he says

"Roman, are you serious?" You snap

"Yes, believe it or not I still love you and I care about your well being" he says turning to face Steve who controls the music giving him a countdown on his fingers

" Fine. Have a good match, please be careful" you say as Roman goes to walk towards the curtain you grab his hand pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek

"Believe it or not I still love you too, I'll be front row sitting next to your mom" you whispered.

You took your seat next to Patricia,she was just as nervous as you she took your hand in hers.

"He'll be okay, he was born to do this it's in his blood" she smiles

The match started off back and forth, then Brock had the upper hand for a while tossing Roman around like a ragdoll. You say there helplessly watching , next thing you know your husband was put through the announcement table right in front of you with Brock snarling a little " that was for you" you jump to your feet looking over the barrier at Roman, Sika pulling you back to your chair.

"He's got this" he smiles

Brock took Roman back in the ring and delivered another F5 went for the pin but Roman kicked out. You secretly wished he hadn't but he did.

That's was it , Brock was pissed. Your stomach clenching knowing it was a matter of seconds before WWE rules went out the window, and they did Brock takes his protective gloves off punching Roman and hitting him with his elbow at the end ... instantly blood was pouring from Roman's head. You've never seen so much blood in your life your husband was covered in it.

Brock pins Roman. Thank goodness it was over.

" I got to check on him, that's too much blood" you say with tears in your eyes.

"Y/n?", Is Daddy okay?" You hear Jojo ask

You look at Roman then to your step daughter.

" Yeah, baby he's okay" you fake smile bringing her in for tight hug

Roman makes it to his feet walking to where you and his family are seated, you two make eye contact Roman lowers his head you reach your hand out for him, he grabs your giving it a little squeeze.

" I'll meet you in the back" you say

He just nods.

In the back you see the medics checking on Roman getting him ready for staples, the one tells you he's all done and ready for you to go in and you nearly run to Roman.

" Easy there…..I'm really sore" he laughs holding you tight

You don't say anything instead you kiss him.

" No more, promise me no more matches with Brock" you say

" Y/n, I want that title" he says

"Roman, at what costs him ending your career one wrong suplex and it could snap your neck, I want you happy but I need you healthy, here , our children need you." You say

"Fine, no more matches against Brock" he sighs.

" Thank you" you say

Roman pulls you in between his legs kissing.

" I love you" you say pulling away

"Say it again" he says

" I love you" you smile

" I've missed hearing you say that" he smiles

"Come on let's go home to our kids….all five of them" you smile.

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #the chase

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bandsanitizer · 4 years ago

Note

Hello again

I appreciate you taking the time to reply and no disrespect was taken. I always enjoy seeing what a non Blaine Stan thinks, if they can back up their arguments succinctly with valid arguments . Even if we isn’t agree. Yours is a good analysis, different from the usual accusations that he’s toxic, abusive, whiny clingy, and the same scenes over analysed and misconstrued. I’d be very interested in hearing your views on Kurt, perhaps in Pm , as we don’t want to be ripped apart by extreme stans. Who are your favoured characters on Glee?

Hi! And I’m glad to hear! Concision isn’t my strong suit if you couldn’t tell lol so the response is below the cut

I’ve seen some of those arguements and while I get where they’re kind of coming from, I wouldn’t say there’s an inherent toxicity to his character. Like he’s not the best but he tries and he’s one of the few that seems to genuinely recognize his mistakes, own up to them, and apologize.

As for Kurt, it’s a mix of the biphobic comment from s2 and how it never feels like his mistakes or flaws are perceived that way? By himself particularly. I’ve heard that the whole biphobic thing was a reflection of the writers but by putting it in the show it becomes part of his character and then it’s a whole debate of “is this poor/lazy writing or intrinsic to him?” and either way you see it changes how to view the scene and while I’m all for the benefit of the doubt on it, it’s never something readdressed and I just feel... For me I feel like it’s part of his character and while he could’ve changed his opinions later in the series, I don’t really know. Idk it’s a very personal thing more so then “I hate him”

Then for his mistakes the Chandler situation comes to mind and while Blaine may have jumped the gun with calling it cheating and the song (though I appreciate the drama of that whole scene and concept), it doesn’t seem like he ever felt bad about it until Blaine admitted to feeling afraid of being alone once Kurt moves to NY. Like his attitude prior to that confession when they meet with Mrs. P frustrates me because even if it wasn’t cheating or intended to hurt Blaine—it did! and Kurt doesn’t feel remorseful at all (song choice was just... really bad and the episode painting Blaine as the one who should feel the most guilty? particular with the shot of Blaine at the end of the performance?) I just feel like he’s rarely shown to feel guilty for his mistakes and the show rarely has him face consequences for them.

And it sometimes feels like he’s sometimes waiting for things to happen because the universe owes him for the shit he’s gone through. Not to say that he hasn’t gone through some terrible things, because the universe really didn’t treat him kindly on a lot of things. Mostly I just don’t vibe with his character. Like you ever meet someone and you can’t completely figure out what but you’re like “I just do not care for you”? It’s like that. That being said, I understand the value of his character and his arcs in the show—particularly in earlier seasons—and appreciate his character for that and such and I don’t mean for any of this to be hateful because he seems like a good person and I don’t passionately dislike him or anything. He, like most characters on the show, deserved a lot better and had a lot of potential the show kind of didn’t see through.

And I apologize but that’s as much as I can really say on my opinions for him and I hope none of that was too mean? comes across unfounded? For him particularly it’s just a lot of personal things that affect my perception of is character and whether that disagrees with people 🤷🏻‍♀️ but yeah. I don’t like discussing it much as to not step on any toes.

But hmmmm... Would you be surprised to hear Blaine is my favorite character? I guess for me “liking a character” and having a “favorite character” are separate ideas. Sort of. My favorite characters in any media tend to be the ones I can connect to and feel a lot of feelings about. Blaine, thus, is exactly that plus his singing is great and I think Darren does a great job at playing Blaine. And I appreciate his particular level of chaos:

“GAP attack! First day at this new school I’m going to sing in the courtyard! Let’s have a sing off in a parking garage! My bf moved states so I’m going to join 23 clubs and run around in a superhero costume for a superhero I made up but is definitely a play on a certain original sidekick’s second alias! How else to show this dude I love him than to get back together for a day then propose with a big song by all the glee clubs ever at the exact spot we met!” + him hopping on furniture and pianos (oh gosh the stress it gives me everytime they stand/sit on the piano—)

and him being ready to fight people bigger than him (Sam, Karofsky) I know is rooted in his past with bullying but outside of that context it’s a little funny. because I’m sure he can throw a punch but he also looks very small and his willingness to throw a punch when all the McKinley boys start their fights by pushing each other for a while is a little hilarious. Blaine really captures that more absurd side of the show. Y’know the whole high school musical “people don’t actually break out into song like this” except Blaine definitely does.

Other characters I might say are favorites: Marley, Sam, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Elliot, Burt. Do The Warblers as a whole count? And overall my heart just breaks a tiny bit for the potential all the characters had to grow and change over the show but kind of just... didn’t? And Finn as a teacher was good for him and I do wish we had gotten to see that develop more.

Moral of the story is that when it comes to Glee I think way too much about everything and my opinions on it because WOW there are a lot of very strong opinions on it and as a show with a great amount of diversity not necessarily being great writing/representation... There’s just a lot to juggle. Sometimes I’m just like “I like how your voice sounds in this song! You’re in my top 10!” or “If the show developed why you’re doing what you’re doing waaaay more then you’d be a really intriguing character that I feel a lot of emotions about!” Idk it’s like most characters I’ve empathized with at one point or another then also been like “wtf? who does that?” so yeah. Glee overall just has a weird place in my heart. It’s terribly good and also really messed up and I think there are songs they shouldn’t have done and I’m so glad the show isn’t around to do but also some of their covers and performance are brilliant and terrific (cough syrup, smooth criminal, and ND nationals performance in s3 among them).

#glee confuses me so i end up with this mess #sorry it’s so long LMAO #thanks for the ask!#i dont have a tag for asks so i guess i’ll make it this #1908jmd #do I need to tag this? i really don’t want to lol #i guess i’ll tag for blacklisting sake #glee #blaine anderson #kurt hummel #anti blaine anderson #anti kurt hummel #<- do i need anti tags? i’d just like to be safe idk sorry for this showing up in the tumblr tags

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birdsaesthetic · 4 years ago

Text

During the Thunderstorm

A/N: So remember when I rambled about this prompt? I couldn’t rest for the whole week until I put it into actual writing 😁 Anyway, I think I mastered it! And I hope you enjoy it! on ff.net

****

"It's only getting worse!" Kurt commented, his attention mainly focused on the view above him, which was limitless sky covered with thick, gray clouds colliding and increasing in size so drastically in matter of seconds.

Jane, just like him, couldn't take her eyes off the sky; it looked breathtaking, frightening, and mesmerizing all at once. "Oh God! We should head back home before this gets any worse and we get stuck here."

They were at Rich's apartment, now standing at the balcony overlooking the whole city, New York City, that now was looking rather like ghosts city, darker than ever, emptier too.

Earlier, when Jane and Kurt were having the ride to Rich's apartment, there wasn't the tiniest suggestion of coming thunderstorm. They hadn't recognized a single cloud in the evening sky, nor had they felt strong blows of winds, though now the weather was moist, and the winds below mostly from the west.

It hadn't been a full hour since they'd made it here, to Rich's place, and they hadn't even had a chance to catch up with the rest of their friends or to finish a full glass of wine just yet. Unfortunately, though, now they were considering heading back to their apartment at a Friday night, which they most of the times—but not this time—spent it either with their friends, or with one another, having a fancy date at a fancy restaurant—but even this option seemed to be stripped away now!

Easy footsteps approached Jane and Kurt from behind, which got both their attention as they glanced over to see that it was Rich steeping closer with all smiles. The second they only just tried to smile back, a great clap of thunder echoed through the sky, which had all three of them flinch, holding their breath. There wasn't any droplet of rain came with it, not yet, only lightning and rumble of thunder.

After Rich let out the breath he'd held, he gasped, "Oh! Seems like Lord is angry at you two," with a smirk, eyeing them in suspicion.

"Why us?" Jane chuckled, rather in nervousness, and with her Kurt chuckled too then took a small sip of the glass of wine he was holding.

"You just missed a hilarious joke I throw at Patterson. Tasha and Reade bursted out laughing." Rich replied, attempting levity, always and forever. "But don't worry; I'll throw plenty of those at each of you for the rest of the night." He smirked some more, then added, "You just stop creeping around and come in join us inside."

Jane cracked a smile then, looking at Rich then back at Kurt, who cleared his throat to say, "I don't think we're going to stay here any longer. The thunderstorm seems to be getting worse, and so we think that we should head back before we get stuck here with you until very late."

Rich quite literally had a panic attack to have heard that from Kurt, showing an absolute disagreement. "No. you're not going anywhere! We're just about to start the night. You can sleep over after that, don't worry."

Jane's brows rose. "Where? On your tiny couch? The two of us?"

To begin his suggestions, Rich stepped closer, managed to sound as convincing as possible, and then said, "Absolutely not! You can have my fancy, marital bed (that I don't have anyone to share it with) and it's behind a closed door. As you may know, I really respect your privacy. And no worries about me, I'll take the couch, happily. Alright? Also, if you two need even more privacy, I can just spend the night with my neighbors here next doors; they're really good people. They love me and I’m sure they wouldn't mind."

Jane couldn't help the wide grin that flashed across her face at how genuinely impressed she was by Rich, and the expressive gestures he'd made, and the concern he'd shown. An old memory she had with him just swiped her mind once he was finished talking, waiting, with all smiles, for an approval from them.

As for Kurt, he felt a slight blush spread over his cheeks at Rich being this generous with them. But after all, and with an apologetic face, he had to say, "Thanks, Rich, but we do have our own bed that we prefer."

"Don't disappoint me! Please, think it over."

"Maybe next time," Jane tried, in a voice rich with sweetness.

"It seems like a perfect time now! We haven’t even caught up yet!" Rich insisted.

"We still can while finishing this class of wine." Kurt said with a wink then took another sip from his win.

Rich would've kept pressing and insisting until the two would give in to his offer, but then, as western winds blew aggressively and he had to narrow his eyes, he gave in, defeated. "God, okay! But don't ever say that Rich isn't a generous friend and never offered us anything!"

Eyelashes fluttering to avoid the wind, Kurt pressed a protective hand over Jane's back, then shook his head and mumbled, "We won't, Rich. Thank you anyway!"

Disappointed Rich could no longer tolerate the heavy winds and the breeze that came with it, and so he retreated from the balcony to the living room, where everybody else gathered.

As soon as Rich departed, Jane turned to face the balcony and shook laughing, covering her mouth with a hand while the other held the glass of red wine. Kurt tried to have a glimpse of her face, tried to grasp what was the fun in that, but only failing in doing so. "What!" He asked then, grinning with a puzzled look. And when Jane surfaced, eyes shining with laughters, voice mixed with the laughters too, she said, "I just remembered something,"

"What is it?"

"It's—breathing—Remember when we first met Rich? The one mission we went undercover as a couple? He talked to me aside, telling me that he'd want to watch us make out together, or maybe he'd meant something more than just that." She laughed some more.

"He did?" a chuckled escaped Kurt's lips.

"He did. Remember how he was so blown away at how we looked good together as a couple?"

"Yeah, we looked good."

"We did."

"And we acted well."

"We did."

"We also danced well."

"That is also true." she rolled her eyes over, grinning.

They shared a loving gaze for some times as the winds flopped Jane's hair in every direction. But then, and as promised, they gathered with the rest and finished their drinks while chatting with their friends for a few more minutes, explaining to them as well that they would have to leave for now in order to get their place safely. Patterson and Reade considered doing the same thing. Tasha, however, could care less about such matters; after all, Reade was her ride, so...it wouldn't be her problem to deal with anyway.

By the time Jane and Kurt kissed their friends quick goodbye, made their way to the building's floor, and pushed themselves through the exit, the weather got a lot worse. No falling rain just yet. But the rumbling of thunders echoed in a powerful way, flashing lights and causing loud, deep noise through the sky.

Lucky Jane leaned to her husband's arm as it wrapped around her middle to keep her impossibly close, as if she were weightless and he were afraid to lose her along with blowing winds. A faint smile played across her lips to that, and she did the same for him, wrapping an arm around him in attempts to maintain some warmth between them. One passing stranger would've thought that they were just new lovers being so excessively romantic even in such circumstances.

After that, they walked against the winds the few paces until they finally reached the car, not necessarily rushing out. Each one of them looked out for the other, holding their breathing until they safely got into the car, Kurt taking the driver seat and Jane the passenger one.

Kurt stared straight ahead at the road and began driving the car, carefully and slowly. The view of the empty streets and the dark, growling sky felt as though the world was oozing toward its end, though there was also a sense of serenity in it.

Halfway through the ride, outside the car cold drops of rain started to fall simultaneously as Jane tuned the radio to a random channel, and it happened to be the weather report announcing and warning that heavy rain and thunderstorms would continue until the next morning.

Jane glanced over at Kurt, who was slightly frowning, his attention poured into the steering wheel and the road ahead of him. For more or less than a minute, she stared at him, not saying anything but only admiring his side profile, and the parted lips that gave him the appearance of someone pouring so much energy into what he was doing.

The rest of the ride passed quietly—well, technically not quietly since the rainfall thrumming all over their car, but the wordless air between them retains an aura of pleasant silence.

"So what's now? Spending a Friday night at our apartment? That never happened!" Kurt wondered, after having made it to their apartment, safe and happy, if they would not complain about how they'd had to stumble across the street from the car to the building as the rain poured so outrageously on them, which resulted in soaking them all over.

Kurt was just shrugging off his Jacket when he said that, and Jane was kneeling down to ditch her dirty pair of shoes. Now she lifted her ducked head to look at him, shrugging, "Umm, I think we should just get comfy in the couch, or our bed."

"Isn't it early for bed?" He thought, roaming across the living room until he stood by her side.

"No! And I'd say the bed. What would you say?" Jane was up on her feet by now.

"Would I ever disagree with you?" He began with the flirting, to which a touch of amusement flickered on Jane's face. She found herself speechless then, unable to form a word, unable to find the right words that would match his. Unique.

She just smiled.

Kurt approached. With his big yet light hands, he unzipped her jacket for her then striped it off. Her gaze lowered to the minimal effort he was putting before he folded it with care and set it upon the couch within his hand's reach. It was made of leather, her jacket, and so whatever she'd worn beneath it was perfectly dry and warm up until now. Thankfully.

She was still smiling when he burrowed his fingertips into the wet of her hair then bent down for a kiss. They shared a light kiss, but when he drove forward for a deeper one, Jane pulled away from his mouth, and smiled at him some more. A little frustrated, he tried again, only to see her slip away from his arms and already at their bedroom door.

Kurt did his simple night routine, which consist of three things: brushing the teeth, rinsing the face, and finally stripping the outer clothes, after that, he rested down on bed, facing the celling, and awaited Jane to come join him. She used extra more minutes in the bathroom, taking her sweet time to dry out all the wetness from her hair. And when she was done with that, she finally joined Kurt in the bedroom, wearing a thin piece of clothing, confident that not cold nor wind would reach her here and now.

Kurt spotted her when she first emerged, but he noticed that she didn't come join him in the bed just yet. Instead, she walked, almost blindly, across the room, farther from him. His eyes watched her move with easy footsteps toward the window, as if being drawn by a magnet. The more she stepped, the rumbling sound of the thunderstorm became like screams in her ears. She almost decided to turn around and go snuggle inside her husband's arms, who was mere feet away from here, but she exhaled and finally reached it there.

Her hands first clutched at the rough fabric of the curtains before spreading them wide open. What she saw outside the window sent a tremor through her spine: tremendous, angry thunderstorm shudder through the early night sky, throwing lights consistently. Rain pelted the glass, and judging from its aggressiveness, it looked like it was threatening to last forever like this but not until tomorrow's morning.

Jane loved the rain, however aggressive. She loved watching it from a cozy place as it poured down and enriched the nature. Each raindrop seemed to come down with a promising hint. Just the rain would be fine, however not with the lights flashing...

The sky lit up with another flash, and soon followed by another loud thunder. Her heart skipped a beat from within her chest, but then she raised a hand and pressed it against the window's glass, as if the glass were invisible and she would run her hand under the rain. But when all she felt against her palm was the glass's coolness, she sort of scowled. Just then that she pressed harder, wishing if she could feel it, the dropping rain, only to feel the sweat of her own palm.

Kurt called her name from across the room, having waited long enough, and disappointed Jane spun around to the growling of his voice, open-mouthed.

Eyes fluttering, peering through the muted lighting of the room, she caught Kurt's eyes from a distance nonetheless. Leaving the open curtains forgotten behind her, she tried a smile then finally joined him in the bed, sitting on his lap, with her legs on either side of him while he was laying back, eyes alert and shining, fixed on hers.

Happy to have her back in his hand reach, Kurt welcomed her with his warm hands gliding up and down from her waist to her ass. "You brought us bed early so you could keep vigil at the rain?" He said in whispers.

"No. So I could make love to you." She corrected.

Both smiled a knowing smile and closed their eyes as Jane brought herself lower to him then pressed her lips against his own. After a brief kiss, Kurt reopened his eyes, only to see her smile creep onto his face, as if glued on her lips; her smile never dropped off.

Feeling so much affection for her, Kurt shifted, got up, eager to keep her legs still around his waist, and then drove forward for another kiss. She hummed against his mouth, curling her arms around his shoulders and feeling that his hair still damp from the rain. Then, she pulled a little back, glanced at the window, then back at him. "I'm worried about whom without homes right now."

"Yeah, hope everyone stays safe." Kurt said softly. "But since you're safe, I'm not that worried to be honest."

Jane furrowed her brow. "Never thought I'd live to hear you say that!"

"Say what?"

"That you're not really worried about everything and everyone!"

"I'm worried about you!"

"I know, but you used to worry about everything and everyone else."

"That was a long time before. Now I have only one priority."

Again, Kurt had charmed her by his choice of words, to which Jane found herself speechless.

After that, she felt him sneak his hands beneath her top, seemingly desperate for more skin-to skin connect. As amazing as it felt, feeling his warm hands directly against her skin, she had to prevent him from getting there, pushing him gently to collapse against the mattress. Kurt did nothing in protest against that, knowing what she was doing and why; she wanted to make love to him, in her own way, is all. Now all he did, though, was match her smile as she petted his damp hair like a good dog.

From her point of view, his lips looked parted, aching to be kissed again, but she only outlined them with an index finger, and let her do so for awhile, then he slid out his tongue and licked, then sucked on her finger, which made her moan out loud, arch at the slightest feel of him, feel dizzy with the image of him all inside her, despite he barely had done anything yet.

His hands, once again, worked their way to her top, tugging on it. It was so thin that he could actually see the tattoos through it, her inked nipples, too—it really was no use having it on!

"Come on, lose the top, I've seen you a million times before." He pleaded, as her finger continued to draw random patterns all over his chin and lips.

"It's not about you've seen me before!" She retorted.

"So it's about what?" He asked, dumbfounded.

She fixed her spine, after having been hunched over him, and pressed her palms against his broad chest, then said, "It's about you've seen me a million times before yet you're dying from the inside now to see me once more!"

He chuckled, "And what if I want to see you once more?"

"Of course I'll show you what you want to see, honey." She reassured, to which his face broke into the widest grin in silent thanks.

As promised, she pulled the top over her head then put it aside, before which she rolled her eyes in a way she seemed to really enjoy pleasing him to the point of bursting but also feeling a little stubborn to show it. He, as a reaction, felt the satisfaction run throughout his veins, looking at her with pure desire as his shoulders relaxed, and his forehead softened.

She was so damn beautiful, had always been. Every time he ever saw her, he'd wondered how she looked this beautiful, slim yet surprisingly strong. Sometimes he'd wondered to himself, other times he'd told her that, out loud—just like this time. "How are you this beautiful! I'm so grateful that you're the one I married, and you became my wife, now I can touch you, everywhere, and we can make love, anytime. Well, whenever we can, right? Can we...now?"

Having heard that, Jane helplessly pulsed for him between her legs, imagining the feel of him there, against her thighs, the sparking center of her desire. And then, she gasped out a triumphant laugh before she bent low, nuzzling against his nose as she whispered, "Of course we can, honey."

She locked her eyes with his as she got to her feet, cast down the rest of her clothes, then climbed back on top of him. She could feel him now, beneath her, impossibly hard like a steel despite how they were barely getting started—they even hadn't bothered with foreplay.

After matching her, casting down the only piece of clothing he had on, Kurt helped Jane to rise and squirm here and there until their body joined together. Before doing anything farther, the two stole a moment of appreciation, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and mind running a mile a minute at how much they wanted each other, badly so.

As if going to dive into the ocean, Jane drew in a deep breath then begun riding him with a good deal of effort. She momentarily lost control of her eyes so they fell close, and her jaw dropped as Kurt gripped onto her hips to brass her firmly; not to arch or slip or something.

The rain continued to fall heavily, pelting at the window's glass, its sound pouring into their ears with the loud rumble in the sky from the outside. But they got used to it by now, and it felt like a nice addition, like an encouraging soundtrack.

They moved so slowly together along with the steady thrum on the windows, making the minimalist effort. The moment Jane reopened her eyes, she caught him look at her fondly during moving with him. The little glint in his eyes, admiring her small breasts bounce with the movements, with the effort she was making, admiring how gorgeous she looked in pleasure all because of him... Or the fact that her hair was brushing against his face and it might've scratched his eyes yet he didn't bother to close them...

The mutual desire increased in intensity the same way the thunderstorm had earlier today. Extremely. But it wasn't until a series of great claps of thunder echoed, howling, crying, warning, and baying like a wolf from within their room that Jane steeled, stopping completely, and stayed herself by gripping onto his shoulders. Kurt's eyes were bright, teasing in the semidarkness and she was digging her nails into him as if to hold on for their life as she looked down at him. He brought her head to him then kissed her softly in the lips, whispering something she couldn't hear. Perhaps something reassuring.

Heart pumping, too stunned to think, let alone move, Jane used a few seconds to breathe, and then she resumed moving. But the thunder wouldn't shut up, so she was still distracted, mind else where, Kurt could tell.

"Focus on me, honey." He whispered, his voice sweet.

"I'm with you." She breathed, barely having found her voice as she moved clumsily against him.

"Are you?"

She sighed, realizing he was right. "Sorry, but it feels like the whole ceiling is going to collapse upon us and with it all the walls will come down, and I'm steeling—"

"Wanna come beneath me, so I take the hit when that happens?" He chuckled.

"Kurt..."

Their bodies were still joined when she found herself beneath him a second later. He kissed her hard then whispered, "It's okay, you're safe, here with me. Just give me your absolute attention and I'll make you forget everything happening in the world right now. I'll stop the time for you if you want me to."

"You know how to butter me up, huh!" She whispered, holding his cheeks.

"Don't I?" He whispered back, then chuckled right against her mouth, which sent his warm, wet breath against her skin, which also tickled her nose a little. She curled up her lips in the tiniest of smiles, despite how anxious she was feeling. "Slowly, okay?"

"Don't you worry." He promised.

She blinked at his promise, then wasted her breath on kissing him, withdrawing strength from him. A few seconds later, he began thrusting into her, rising and falling, slow as promised, but also determined.

He truly could make her forget about everything else once he was atop her, inside her, his body fussing with hers, feeding hers.

The sky shook with cries of the thunder again and again. The rain raged on. But they didn't even flinch at it, they rocked together with matching possessions, desperate for release, but also eager for this moment to last.

#During the Thunderstorm #blindspot #blindspotfic #fluff #I just love this #I just love them #Jeller #jane doe #kurt weller

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infinitywithyou · 4 years ago

Text

In times that he cried

Inspired by those five times + 1 time fics, featuring our many, many Seblaine verses through the years both here and on discord. Title from Seasons of Love from the musical Rent, which seems appropriate to measure the many seasons of love of this particular couple of ours. And your birthday. Although you usually write Sebastian, I’ve written these from his POV to show that you have always managed to write him with a heart. Especially when Blaine is involved. You, and he, are loved.

@problmatics

1. The thing about making the move towards something you want is that when you get it, when you find yourself with everything you thought you always wanted, it can be... overwhelming. It isn’t just a single moment. It’s an ongoing thing. And that is a lot harder. Pulling off a romantic, secret admirer type of mistletoe first kiss had been easy compared to the undaunting task of what comes next. And although he was loathe to admit it, it wasn’t something he’d been prepared for. Sebastian wasn’t proud of what he’d done, the way he’d ghosted Blaine for a majority of the rest of the school year, and then promptly disappeared to Paris like usual.

Paris of course, always made everything better; clearer. Strolling the streets, coffee in hand, head filled with snippets of voices speaking his first language as he peered into shop windows, until his eyes came across something that was so unbelievably Blaine Anderson, that it knocked the wind, the breath, right from his lungs. And maybe that was how Sebastian knew, deep down, in that place he often ignored, that this was worth taking a chance on. He went in and bought the bow tie and had it gift wrapped in the store.

He had a plan returning from Paris. Or, an idea, at the very least. And was determined to see it through. But life... moves on. It kept going, even when he was not there. So all Sebastian could do is realize missed moments and opportunities. Find a quiet, private spot, and let the disappointment and sadness wash over him. Not that he'd ever admit to that; no, because no boy had ever gotten to him like this. Not even Blaine Anderson. But sometimes, sometimes, life, and Blaine, will give him a second chance. (300 words)

2. As Sebastian stood there, dressed in a black tux, with light silver accents, he reflected in how he’d gotten here. 15 years; sometimes it felt like a life time, other times it felt like he’d blinked and it had all disappeared. He would never have thought it would take him this long to get his life, and shit together. It was truly as testament to Blaine’s love and loyalty, that the other was still there beside him; or would be, when he and Cooper arrived. Blaine had waited ten years for an engagement; Sebastian had never intended to make him wait another five for the wedding.

But things kept coming up, time seemed to slip through his fingers like quicksand. Blaine deserved perfect; tonight it was simple, basic, but classic, and romantic. Black and white, with silver and gold accents for the New Year. The silver, highlighting the grey sprinkled in Sebastian's hair the last couple of years. Most days he couldn’t be bothered to do much about except hide it under a ball cap or a beanie. Thankfully it wasn’t yet showing in his facial hair. Tonight he was clean shaven, and the grey in his hair coiffed stylishly. The gold, of course was for Blaine’s eyes, and the warmth, and comfort, Sebastian had always found there.

Because they'd waited long enough, and Sebastian wasn't starting another year without Blaine as his husband. Plus if the date meant that many of their guests had other plans; it didn't bother him or his anxiety any. When Cooper arrived with Blaine, who looked shocked, but relieved, Sebastian felt the sting of hot tears in the corners of his eyes. Feelings, real feelings, breaking through the fog he often found himself surrounded by. Because of Blaine. It was always because of Blaine. (300 words)

3. Sebastian laid propped on his side, still a little tender, watching as Blaine slept soundly beside him. Pink still tinged his cheeks, sweat still had his hair slick at his hairline and even in his sleep his lips curled in a small smile. Even asleep, he was beautiful to Sebastian. It had been a long couple of days; a week, ten days? He'd lost count as to when things had started to fall apart. Blaine no doubt needed the sleep, if his own restless was any indication of how his ex boyfriend felt in the days since their break up.

Sebastian would never had imagined that he would be the one to break up with Blaine, but he had, and had in a way, destroyed the younger man beside him. Until Blaine had managed to see him, to see the truth behind what Sebastian was doing, and challenged him, appropriately. Which was how they had ended up here, in a hotel room, broken up, but having just made love, the first time for Blaine. It was fucked up, but that was his way Sebastian realized, eyes dampening because he'd done this to Blaine. The only saving grace was that Sebastian had convinced Blaine to top so at least the other would still have the opportunity to experience that first the proper way.

Eyelashes fluttered but eyes didn't open, as a soft gravely voice murmured. "Stop staring, why aren't you sleeping?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I am not staring, I was sleeping," Sebastian lied, a smile on his lips as he pulled Blaine closer. "How are you feeling sunshine? Are you okay?" he asked, pressing a kiss to Blaine's temple.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open, finding Sebastian's. "I'm good, really good. I promise. How are you 'Bas?" (300 words)

4. Sebastian knew that it did cross a line. Sending a porn link to his...crush... who happened to be in a relationship with someone else. Even if he felt that there was no way Blaine was being properly satisfied in his current relationship. And so what if the actors in the porn had similarities to them? It was purely a coincidence. He and Blaine had always been able to talk about anything, so why should taking about sex, and what they liked, be off limits just because Blaine was in a relationship? Why was it wrong to picture his friend jerking off while watching said porn? Or to watch it, imagining it was the two of them, while he got off.

What really got to Sebastian though, was the way Blaine couldn't see just how wrong this relationship was for him. That he could really see Sebastian, but not see what Sebastian could, would, offer him. It was frustrating. Listening to Blaine talk about Kurt, both good and bad, was becoming harder and harder for Sebastian. So many times he just wanted to blurt out what he really thought, how he really felt, but he couldn't. Because the thing was, as much as he valued his friendship with the golden eyed boy, friendship wasn't what he really wanted with Blaine. It would never be the only thing he wanted. But he was Sebastian Smythe and he didn't do broken hearted. He wouldn't let a boy break his heart. Especially not a boy that didn't even realize he had it, or wanted it, to begin with.

It wasn't crossing a line Sebastian thought, gripping himself tightly and stroking slowly, to imagine Blaine's perfect ass, tight around him. When he climaxed, hot tears fell while he spilled over his hand with a sob. (300 words)

5. Sebastian stared down at his phone and the last message from the boy, man, he called Wolfie. Blaine was going. He and Quinn were going to lay out a map, throw a dart, and they were leaving town together. Blaine was leaving without him, without even talking to him or saying good bye. After everything that had happened between them, after everything that almost happened, after what could happen, Blaine was leaving. Blaine was leaving and Sebastian was.... heartbroken.

He paced around his room nervously, little things here and there catching his eye and reminding him of the tattooed, curly haired, leather jacket wearing loner that somehow saw him better than the people he'd known his whole life. Who would see him now, who would noticed when he was barely floating, or worse, drowning. Sebastian pulled a small bag out of his closet and began tossing those items into it. He had to find them. He had to talk to Blaine, face to face before he and the blonde left town. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"Where are you," Sebastian texted back. "You can't just leave like this. You can't just leave and not say good bye to me. I thought..." he didn't finish the text but sent it anyway. Hot tears stung at his eyes. "Regardless of what I thought, you're a coward if you leave like this and I know you're not a coward Blaine Anderson. Wolves aren't cowards." He picked up his jacket, pocketing his phone and slung the bag over his shoulder, turning for the door when he heard a knock. A knock on the window. Sebastian turned around, spotting a familiar figure on the other side of the glass. He went to the window and opened it.

"What are you doing here?" (300 words)

+1. Good bye's were hard. Especially when they involved someone you loved. But that was why hellos meant so much more. Even though he and Blaine had fought their families, Sebastian knew being in New York, at Columbia was where he was supposed to be, even while Blaine was still in Texas. Still the prospect of a visit from his boyfriend was welcomed. He understood why Blaine didn't want him at the airport, but now he stood in his apartment in New York City, pacing past the windows, waiting for lights signaling a car coming in. They had five whole days together, and then in about two weeks Sebastian would be back in Texas for Thanksgiving for about the same amount of time, and then they'd have almost a month at Christmas. It wasn't the same as seeing his boyfriend every day, but it was better than nothing. And it was just for a year. By the end of August, if not earlier, Blaine would join him in New York, and they'd be back together full time. Sebastian couldn't wait.

Lights lit up the street downstairs as the car slowed to a stop in front of his building. Sebastian grabbed his coat and rushed down the stairs, opening the door just as Blaine stepped onto the sidewalk with his bags. "Killer," he breathed, arms immediately wrapping Blaine up in his arms, before their lips met. He expected tears, one's he couldn't stop from streaming down his face. The kind of ugly cry that he sometimes teased his boyfriend about during the more romantic movies Blaine sometimes picked, but instead all he could do was beam a wide smile at him instead. So much so that his cheeks already hurt. "You're a sight for these sore eyes. I'm so glad you're here." (300 words)

#//taking a break to wish happy birthday to one of my favorite partners #ship:Seblaine

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

Text

a sickly satisfaction (ch.1)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: high school sucks. jason dean makes it a little better.

warnings: uuhhhh murder, language, suicide discussion

notes: i have every chapter of this written out already, so every wednesday I’ll release a new one <3 in total the story is 7,800 words! but there are some parts that are kind of short, forgive me for those.

Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay out of their way. Three simple steps to get through the day. They had an iron grip on the school, their perfectly manicured nails digging into the oily skin of the entire student body. High School was a bloody battlefield in the war that is life. However, the epitome of cruelty, the ultimate teenage angst inducing, self-esteem crushing, happiness shattering war machine came in the form of three girls and their weak-willed sidekick. That’s right; my biggest threat in high school is Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and Veronica Sawyer. Veronica at least has some semblance of regret and empathy-- she’s just doing what she needs to survive. Unfortunately, that means the rest of us have to struggle to keep our heads above water.

Thankfully, I have a sanctuary. A refrigerator heaven filled with endless isles of roadtrip snacks and hangover remedies. Of course, this junk food Garden of Eden also happens to contain my best friend, Tommy Geller. Tommy is 18, emo, and gay, so naturally we got along pretty well. He sits behind the register and lets me hang around until closing. It’s actually pretty nice-- sometimes he lets me do busywork around the store. Sure, it’s sort of pathetic that Snappy Snack Shack is my main source of serotonin, but you know what? There are worse places to be.

“Pop open a bottle of champagne, Tommy, because today is a special day!” I cry, pushing open the small class doors. To my delight, the store is empty. There are no irritating customers there to make me keep my voice down.

“Oh? And why is that?” Tommy inquires, his jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. He’s tired-- and bored-- and I’m the perfect remedy for that.

“Today marks exactly six months since I first stepped foot in this town,” I grin. Tommy’s eyebrows perk up.

“Really? Congrats, kid,” He’s humoring me a bit, but there is a genuine reaction beneath his sarcastic remarks.

“Thanks, Tommy. Y’know, that’s twice as long as my time in New Jersey and three times as long as my run in Nebraska. I have a feeling dear old aunt Maria might actually stay here for good,” I hop over the counter before grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge. I prop me feet up on the counter, but Tommy knocks them down.

“You know the rules, kid, no stompy boots on the counter.” I roll my eyes. He wipes off the place where my shoes were before organizing the lotto tickets. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

“Eh, same old same old. The Heathers were bitches, Veronica was desperately trying to keep up, and I got tripped in the hallway,” Tommy frowns.

“God, those girls really need to get humbled,” He spits.

“You don’t need to tell me. They constantly act so… self-superior, as if their power doesn’t depend solely on whether or not everyone else hates themselves to believe they’re inferior to three teenage girls who are the definition of ‘peaked in high school’,” I squeeze the soda can in my hand, the metal crunching under the pressure. “They need to be more than humbled. The Heathers deserve to be dealt as much pain as they served,”

“Watch it, kid, you’re sounding a bit homicidal,” Tommy jokes. If only he knew.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t think they can die-- they’re like a Hydra. If you kill one of the Heathers, three more will grow in her place,” I sigh. Tommy looks concerned.

“Y/n, you don’t actually want to kill them, right?” I hesitate. The silence makes Tommy worry.

“I wouldn’t exactly lose sleep if one of them did die,” I reply nonchalantly. “It would be like a public service. Similar to killing the black mold that grows in the girl’s showers,” Tommy looks at me for a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his counter.

“That’s morbid,” he says. “You know that? You sound like a killer in the making.”

“Sometimes bad people deserve bad things.”

“You’re absolutely not helping your case,” Tommy laughs. I can feel someone watching me. It’s an odd feeling, but I brush it off.

“New topic?” I ask. Tommy nods.

A mischievous grin grows on his face. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? All of the above?” he asks hopefully.

“No, Tommy, and don’t get your hopes up,” I chuckle, before standing up and admiring the neon sign outside.

“Oh come on, there has to be someone. You can’t possibly go to that hellhole every day and not see at least one hot person!” Tommy groans.

“Everyone at Westerburg is either evil or boring. No one interests me and I’m not interesting to anyone. Plus, my attention is mainly focused on getting through the day in one piece, not getting laid.” I neglect to mention the stranger I saw in the Cafe yesterday. He was pretty hot, and didn’t seem to be a douchebag-- in fact, he shot two of the douchiest douchebags with blank bullets. A real rarity at Westerburg.

“God, you need to get out more. I see some pretty people pass through here occasionally, I’m going to start pawning you off,” he jokes.

“Oh, god, no,” I joined in on his laughter.

“Yup, I’m going to give every hot person your photo and your address until you finally score yourself some arm candy,” Tommy can barely form sentences through his laughter.

“I’m gonna to get murdered if you do that, Tom,” I giggle.

“ And that would be damn shame,” A voice calls from across the counter. I look up to see the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s the same guy from the Cafe-- although in the bright convenience store lighting he looks more like a ghost than a man. His jawline looked sharp enough to slice me in half, his cheekbones high and defined. His hair was gorgeous and his teeth were really, really nice.

“Uh, yeah, that would totally s-suck,” I choked. Tommy shot me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen. “I’ve, uh, seen you around. That stunt you pulled in the Cafe was wicked, man, seriously.”

“Hey, it was a public service,” He smirked. Tommy gave me a ‘holy-shit-I’ll-leave-you-two-alone’ look before disappearing in the isles across the room. I could see him peeking through the cereal boxes. “I’m Jason Dean, but most people call me JD.” He offers his hand for me to shake.

“Y/n, Y/n Ln,” I grip his hand firmly and try not to have a breakdown over the contact. “Y’know, there are much less extreme ways to get people to fuck off than, well, shooting them.”

“The extreme always seems to make an impression, though, doesn’t it?” His voice was a little bit lower and he leaned in a little bit closer. Tommy was freaking out across the aisle, his eyes wide as his hand raked through his greasy hair.

“That it does,” I grin. “There are quite a few people in that school that deserve certain... extremities,”

“I think you’re right,” Jason smirked once again. I kept my composure as best I could. “Speaking of extremities, I saw you and Kurt in the hallway last week,” My face is lit ablaze as I recall the incident. Kurt had been continuously pestering me the entire day, and eventually I reached my limit.

“I guess they aren’t joking when they say the chin is the knockout button,” Jason seems impressed, although I can’t really tell because looking him in the eyes seems like a death sentence. “Landed me three days detention, though. That sucked. Although I guess it can’t compare to whatever they’re dealing you,” At this point, one of the regulars began approaching the front doors. Tommy sprinted out before they got in, seemingly explaining that my entire love life depends on whether or not I can play it cool.

“Eh, what can I say. I sort of dug myself a grave there,” I spoke without thinking.

“The only graves that should’ve been dug are Kurt and Ram’s. My one critique? Use real bullets next time,” I froze. Why the fuck would I say that? I mean, I’m not wrong but I doubt JD would stick around after--

“I like the way you think,” JD laughs, his ears tinted pink. Jason looks at me, and for a moment, I look right back. There’s something behind his eyes, something festering and enticing. I wonder if my eyes communicate anything. “I’ll see you around, Y/n L/n,”

“And I’ll see you, Jason Dean,” With that he winked at me, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door. Tommy practically sprinted across the room as I released every muscle I’d been tensing. I slowly melted onto the floor. Laying on the tile with my eyes trained on the bright lights overhead.

“Oh my god,” Tommy breathed. “Oh my fucking god that was-- oh my god.”

“I know,”

“Did you see him? He’s like a greek god,”

“I know,”

“And he was totally into you, like, totally,”

“I should’ve given him my address. I wouldn’t mind getting murdered by him.” I say breathlessly. Tommy sits on the counter and looks down at me.

“I think I need to teach you how to talk to boys,” Tommy sighs, shock still lingering on his face.

“Pssh, I can talk to boys just fine,” I retort.

“You almost collapsed when you saw him,” he says flatly.

“That was--”

“I thought you were going to pass out when he told you his name,”

“But I--”

“I genuinely believed you were going to vomit when he shook your hand,”

“Alright! I give! I can’t talk to boys! You caught me! Lock me up and never let me embarrass myself like that again!” I surrendered, throwing my arms in the air before letting them collapse over my face. “He probably thinks I’m a freak,”

“Are you joking? He was more smitten than you were!” This caught my attention, and I tore my arms away from my eyes.

“Huh? Elaborate!” I snapped.

“You seriously didn’t notice? He’d been staring at you since you stepped foot in here, didn’t you see him? At first I thought it was weird, but then I realized he was smoking hot so I decided I’d let it slide,” “Comforting,” Sarcasm drips from my words. “Y’know serial killers and stalkers can be hot, too.” I rolled my eyes.

“ I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of ‘I wouldn’t mind getting mur--’,”

“Alright, Tommy, we get it.” I cut him off in embarrassment. “Please continue.”

“He comes in here a lot, so I knew he was alright. He was beet red the entire time you were talking. Didn’t you see the way he was in a perpetual state of stupid smiling? Dude, he was definitely into you and really bad at hiding it,” Tommy concluded.

I smiled a big, dumb smile. I didn’t notice the fact that he was nervous, so he probably didn’t notice that I was dying, right?

“Tommy, I think we might have a keeper.”

“Thank god, I don’t think I could stand to see you go to Prom alone. That would be too depressing, even for me,” Tommy enthused. I propped my feet against the edge of the counter, staring at the tips of my boots. For the first time in a long time, Tommy is silent. I can’t get his eyes out of my head. Then again, I don’t know if I want to.

_________

#jason dean #heathers #jason dean x reader #a sickly satisfaction series #irl dont look #irl don't look #veronica sawyer #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #heather duke

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musiclovingbitch · 5 years ago

Text

Emergency

Summary: Rachel goes into labour while Kurt and Jesse are at rehearsal.

Written for the 2019 Klaine Advent prompt: emergency, and the fifth @gleepotluckbigbang prompt: gift-giving!

~1.1k words

on AO3

“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” Blaine muttered increasingly louder.

The phone went to voicemail for the fourteenth time. He groaned loudly in frustration.

“Try Kurt again.” Rachel said from where she sat next to him.

He did. As with the last ten times, it also went to voicemail. Blaine resisted the urge to throw his cell phone across the room, but only just barely.

“I am going to kill our husbands!” he said to her.

He checked his phone again. Neither Kurt nor Jesse had read any of the increasingly frantic messages he’d sent them on literally any and every app he could possibly think of.

“Okay, Blaine, I do not need this right now. I’m supposed to be the only one freaking out here.” Rachel said, then hissed, clutching her belly.

Blaine immediately crouched down beside her, his hands hovering just above her belly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just really stressed right now.”

Rachel exhaled shakily. “I can relate.”

“What do you need, is there anything I can do, something I can get?” he asked, feeling more helpless than he had in awhile.

“You can get our husbands here so that I can murder them for turning both their phones off the month I’m supposed to go into labour!” Rachel gasped out, breathing heavily.

Right then, a nurse came in the room to check how dilated Rachel was, and Blaine stepped out. He paced up and down the hallway, clenching and unclenching his hands. He felt his breathing speed up.

This is not the time, he thought. Deep breath. In through the nose, hold it in. Out through the mouth. Again.

He checked the time. Twelve-thirty. Rehearsal must be ending right now, although they always keep them longer.

Suddenly, a thought entered his mind. The front desk should be opening soon. He googles the number and presses the call button.

The phone rings. He hopes against hope and dares not take a breath.

Someone picks up.

“Rogers Theater, how--”

He cuts the woman off. “Hi, hello, my name is Blaine Anderson-Hummel, and I need you to inform two of your performers that are in rehearsal right now, Kurt Anderson-Hummel and Jesse St. James, that there’s an emergency and they need to check their phones.” he said, all in one breath.

“Uh, ok-okay. I will get right on that.” the woman said, clearly caught off guard.

“Thank you.” he said, and hang up the phone without a second thought.

The nurse came out of the room and he smiled at her gratefully, then walked back in.

“Any luck?” Rachel said, face screwed up in pain.

“Kinda? I called the theater and told them to tell--”

His phone rang. It was Kurt. He briefly considered declining the call, just so that he can torture them the same way they turtured him and Rachel, but immediately dismissed it and picked up.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Kurt’s voice came in barely a second later.

“How’s Rachel?” Jesse’s voice followed suit.

“Well, she’s in labour.”

“Put us on speakerphone.” Jesse said.

“Put them on speakerphone so I can hear.” Rachel said at the same time.

Blaine did.

“Okay, you’re on speakerphone.” he said.

“I’m so sorry, baby, we’re on our way, we’ll be there soon, how are you feeling?” Jesse’s voice sounded, more soft than Blaine had ever heard it before.

He could see Rachel’s face soften, but then her expression morphed back into the one it was before.

“I am feeling a lot of pain. And when you get here, I will kill you with my own bare hands, labour or no labour!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, the director threatened to fire us if we didn’t turn our phones off, even after we explained the situation.” Jesse sounded angrier than Rachel.

“Just get here soon.” Rachel said, expression changing from angry to pain-ridden.

“We will, we will, we’re ten minutes out.” Kurt chimed in.

After the longest ten minutes of his entire goddamn life, a harried looking Kurt and Jesse came barreling through the door, Kurt falling into his arms, and Jesse immediately running to sit at the end of the bed, taking her hand in between both of his.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna be parents.” Kurt whispered breathlessly to his ear.

“I should kill you for turning off your phone less than four weeks to the due date.” Blaine responded, equally breathless.

Both of them stood a little off to the side, Kurt hugging Blaine from behind, watching Jesse whisper talk to Rachel in a low voice, occasionally bringing his hand up and caressing her hair.

“If it makes you feel better, we may not have jobs to return to after this.”

“What?” Blaine turned to look at him properly.

“After the attendant told us to check our phones and we saw that Rachel was in labour, Jesse cursed the director out so loudly I’m surprised we weren’t fired on the spot. We ran out of there pretty quickly, so she may just not have had the time to do it.” Kurt said and shrugged.

The nurse came in to check how dilated Rachel was again, and Kurt and Blaine waited outside. They were surprised to see that the nurse walked out with Rachel in tow, on her bed. They rushed beside the gurney.

“She’s at ten centimeters, it’s time.” the nurse said, smiling.

“Wish me luck, guys.” Rachel said, visibly overwhelmed.

“If anything happens to you, I will kill you, do you hear me?” Kurt said to her.

Rachel just nodded, her eyes bright. Kurt leaned over the railing and hugged her. Blaine grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth and kissed it firmly before letting go.

“Good luck,” he said.

They watched, holding hands, as Rachel was led away.

A couple of hours later, they walked hand in hand into another brightly lit room.

“Hey,” Blaine said, “How are you, Superwoman?”

Rachel smiled tiredly up at him. She was covered in sweat, and could barely lift her head from the pillow. But she still smirked up at him and said “And I thought doing eight shows a week was hard.”

They all laughed. Jesse kissed her forehead. Blaine and Kurt turned their attention to the small human they had yet to acknowledge.

They approached the baby cautiously and quietly, seeing that it was sleeping.

“Oh my god, Rachel, this entire thing came out of you.” Kurt said, a look of genuine shock across his face.

Rachel snorted. “I’m well aware.”

“He’s perfect.” Kurt continued, awed. He extended a finger out and gently caressed the baby’s head.

“He is, oh my god, Rachel, he’s perfect.” Blaine echoed.

“Considering it’s December, does this mean that I don’t have to get you a Christmas present?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, Rachel, this is the best gift ever, you never have to get us anything ever again.” Kurt said, tears filling his eyes.

They went over to the bed. Rachel smiled at them, hand still sandwiched in between both of Jesse’s.

“I love you guys.” she said.

“We love you too.”

#spewing their words without menace #klaine fic #klaine advent 2019 #klaine advent: emergency #GPBB Drabble December #GPBB

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