Finn almost falls out of bed when his phone rings. It’s 2am and he has to be up for school in…oh God, five hours. Whoever it is better have a good reason for calling, and if it’s Puck forgetting about the time difference again he’s going to kill him. But his anger evaporates when he sees Kurt’s name on the screen; Kurt would only call for something important.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asks by way of greeting. Best to just get to the point in the middle of the night.
“Can I come stay with you for a few days?” Kurt sounds tired, which makes sense, but it’s a different kind of tired…like multiple layers of tired.
They host their first holiday - Thanksgiving, because Burt staunchly refuses to give up Christmas and having “his boys” (in which Blaine is included) under his roof for a few days - the first year they’re both out of grad school and working. Kurt has been campaigning since August, even though Burt had insisted that there was no way he’d convince Carole to give it up. He was almost right; no matter how many times Kurt had thrown around words like “engaged” and “adults” and “traditions,” Carole had just hummed in that politely dismissive way of hers and said no.
But all it took was a few mentions of how romantic New York is and Hey, isn’t your 10th anniversary the week before and Carole had booked the plane tickets before they were off the phone. Kurt had heard his dad grumble in the background and Carole’s answering “You can afford it, Congressman,” and then he’d hung up very, very quickly because he was pretty sure he just heard a sex thing; he has managed a decade not thinking about his dad and Carole having sex and now is not the time to break that streak.
It’s been four months since their first kiss and almost two since Blaine had told Kurt that he loved him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but this still feels so new to Kurt. Being with someone. Being with Blaine. He still pinches himself to make sure it’s not all a fabulous dream. Every time, he winces and then smiles in blissful relief, no matter where he is or who is around.
Blaine shows him just how much he really does care in a thousand tiny ways. Today, he’s chosen to display it by risking heatstroke in driving over to Kurt’s house. It’s 95 degrees and still climbing at two in the afternoon, and Blaine shows up at Kurt’s door beaming and bouncing on his toes even though sweat is trickling down his temples. “Doesn’t your car have A/C?” Kurt asks mildly as he reaches up to gently touch the left one (I must really love him, ew) and then quickly ushers Blaine inside.
“Yeah, it does. I’m pretty sure that accumulated between the car and the house,” Blaine answers brightly, and when he leans in to give Kurt a kiss, a drop of sweat slips over the end of his nose and lands on Kurt’s. They both laugh, and Blaine brushes it away with his thumb, and then he lets his fingers curl around Kurt’s jaw, not breaking their eye contact, and Kurt knows it isn’t the stifling heat that’s making it difficult to breathe.
Title: Salon Treatment Author: Star Rating: PG-13 Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine Word Count: 1,200+ Summary: Blaine has a hair appointment with the most attractive hair stylist he’s ever seen. Warnings: AU. A/N: As always, thanking slayerkitty for putting up with my rambles and for betaing my fics. ♥ Disclaimer: Not mine. I just have a vivid and healthy imagination.
it is the year 2050. gender in terms of male/female has been replaced with human/dancer. a woman in the delivery room has just given birth and as the doctor pulls the child from her womb she gasps “is it human… or is it dancer?” the doctor cuts the cord and announces, “it’s human.” nobody notices the father’s face darken. he wanted a dancer
Quinntana? (I don't know if you ship them, actually)
sorry i only saw that now, but i went to italy for a week and tumblr didn’t show me i had asks.. I don’t really ship it, but imagination is sort of my thing so I’ll just try to do it ;D
Put a ship in my ask box and I’ll tell you:
Big spoon/little spoon:
Santana is mostly the big spoon, but they do swap
Favorite non-sexual activity:
performing, and beauty-days with masks, manicure, etc. which usually end in going out and drinking cocktails
Who uses all the hot water:
Quinn, but Tana doesn’t mind because she prefers cooler water anyway
Most trivial thing they fight over:
Who does most of the cleaning:
Who controls the Netflix queue:
Who calls up the landlord when the heat’s not working:
Santana, and oh, the poor landlord
Who steals the blankets:
Who leaves their stuff around:
Who remembers to buy the milk
Who remembers anniversaries:
both do, so they take turns with planning the dates
Who cooks normally?:
Santana, after her grandmother finally accepted her again she actually gave her a lot of cooking advice and family recipies
How often do they fight?:
About once or twice a month, but only over trivial stuff, big fights only happen once or twice a year
What do they do when they’re away from each other?:
Santana doesn’t like to show how much she misses Quinn and tries to keep her cool, she goes to their favourite bar and drinks Quinn’s usual order, Quinn is more open with her feelings, she often invites her nieghbours over and has movie marathons with her. If Santana’s gone longer, she only sleeps with her pillow and cries into it at night.
Nicknames for each other?:
Quinn sometimes calls Santana Senorita
Who is more likely to pay for dinner?:
Who steals the covers at night?:
What would they get each other for gifts?:
Who made the first move?:
Who remembers things?:
Who started the relationship?:
Who cusses more?:
What would they do if the other was hurt?:
depending on the season, bring a bowl of soup or ice cream, just stay in at night, talk, cuddle, kiss…
Title: Thank Puck Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2600 (exactly!) Summary: Filled for this prompt requesting Puck to meet Blaine at Fight Club, and Puck sets them up without them really knowing. Note: I guess it’s technically AU, but there is no reason that this totally couldn’t have happened and RIB just forgot to tell us.
“Puck,” Puck reaches out his hand and Blaine shakes it.
“I’m Blaine. Welcome to Fight Club.”
These were quite possibly the best words Puck had ever heard in his life. Puck didn’t want to go back to juvie. The food there sucked, the other kids were fucking scary and he was pretty sure real jail would only get worse. He was determined to stay out of the big house, but he needed an outlet. Glee was fun, but it didn’t really provide Puck with any sort of relief. It gave him another family, who he loved and all, but damn, they had their share of drama queens in there.
‘Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.
Kurt had been aware of the fact that Blaine had a body beneath his clothes. He’d gotten glimpses over the months they’d been dating. An arm here, a collarbone there. He’d spent more than one afternoon staring lewdly at Blaine’s ankles like he was a pervert ripped from a Victorian romance novel, but when they were just there how could he not look?
They were adorable, after all. Truly exquisite ankle specimens. Kurt might have been slightly biased, but he was mostly sure that his opinion was purely objective.
“My shoulders are killing me,” Kurt groans, flopping down onto the couch in the common room. It’s empty, since it’s late and there’s no Warbler meeting today, and Kurt doesn’t hesitate to sprawl out in a way that would surely make the rest of the Warblers judge him. “I swear, those library chairs were made by sadists.”
“Aww, poor thing,” Blaine says with complete sincerity, sitting down by Kurt’s feet and patting his leg. “C’mon, sit up.”
Kurt does, pouting at Blaine until Blaine reaches forward and undoes the button of Kurt’s blazer. Kurt watches carefully, feeling heat creep into his face as Blaine pushes the blazer off Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt shrugs out of it, glancing up just in time to see Blaine’s throat bob when he swallows.
“I can rub your shoulders for you,” Blaine says softly, his eyes wide and bright like they get when they’ve been kissing (and oh, how Kurt loves when they’ve been kissing), and Kurt’s eyes flicker down to Blaine’s lips before he can help it.
“Okay, thanks,” Kurt says with a smile, turning around and bringing his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest as Blaine settles in behind him. It’s just a shoulder rub, Kurt tells himself, taking a deep breath and listening to the rustle of Blaine taking off his blazer too. It reminds him too much of all the times they’ve snuck in kisses between classes, hands sliding desperately under blazers and clinging until they had to break apart.
“You should loosen your tie, too,” Blaine whispers near Kurt’s ear, and Kurt shivers, eyes sliding shut as Blaine starts to loosen the knot where it rests at the dip of Kurt’s throat. Blaine’s so close, his fingers trailing warmly from the tie up to Kurt’s shoulders, resting there for a few seconds before they start to push and knead at the muscle.