and i mean he like picked kurt like of all the people to do he did kurt

3-year-old Wingman (Connor Murphy x Reader babysitting fluff)


3-year-old Wingman (Connor Murphy x Reader fluff babysitting AU its fuckin lame)

3000+ words

Ps: im bad at revising

TW: angst, lots of swearing, toddlers, very very brief mentions of depression, anxiety, and suicide

You saw a dim light flicker from the corner of your eye as you played Uno with your young nephew, accompanied by a slight ding signaling you got a text. You knew it was probably Connor.

“You can get your phone, it’s okay.” your nephew told you, sounding wise beyond his years for a 3-and-a-half-year-old. He was the most adorable thing, and you couldn’t get over it.

“Nope, buddy. I need my full concentration for this game. I’m not gonna lose to you again. They can wait a couple of minutes until I demolish you at this Uno.” you replied sternly, lifting your head up high, causing giggles to erupt for the small boy. You couldn’t help but smile back. But your lips fell when your phone started dinging over and over and over again. Your nephew peered up at you with big eyes, silently telling you to just get it. You put up a finger, putting your cards face to use your other hand to reach for your phone. You were right, it was Connor.

7 messages from Connor



what are you up to

i’m bored

my parents aren’t home


you’re my only friend i want to hang out with you dammit

You couldn’t help but to let a smile form on your face. This fucking kid. You couldn’t believe that this was the boy that barely spoke two words to you over a span of a month when you were lab partners. At the start of Junior Year, you had to take a physics class as a prereq for graduating. The class was filled with seniors, leaving you and this mysterious, and super scary Connor Murphy as the only two juniors. So, your teacher paired you up, resentment oozing out of Connor. You basically did the projects by yourself, him helping with data or equations you didn’t understand yourself, but you never actually talked much. You did your work in silence. Until you noticed he was writing some old fall out boy (A/N: I feel like everyone just mutually agreed on Connor liking FOB so I’m just going along with it.)  lyrics on one of his data sheets.

“That’s a good song.” You murmured, peering back at your paper, trying to work through this problem that made zero sense.

“You like fall out boy?” he mumbled, trying to figure out what you were trying to do by making conversation with him.

“Yeah, Pete Wentz was the love of my life for a while. They were actually my first concert back in middle school, when they made a comeback. But they peeked at From Under A Cork Tree.”  Connor smiled at this, agreeing silently with everything you just said. His smile was addictive, so you kept going. Seeing how long you could kept a conversation going and his smile up as well. You mostly talked at first. But his word count each week was increasing exponentially. Until you went a whole class listening to him talk about how The Smiths was easily the best band ever and better than Nirvana and that Nirvana is over-hyped because everyone romanticizes Kurt’s suicide while no one really actually cares about the depressed kid until they are gone. The conversation kind of died after that. Him feeling like he said too much, and you just not knowing what to say. Something told you he wasn’t just talking about Kurt Cobain. So, you kind of squeezed his hand momentarily, which he would never admit, made him blush like a madman and almost pushed him into a panic attack, he was so overwhelmed and caught off guard. Then, the game changed for Connor. It was bound to happen; a crush was going to form. Connor fell victim, falling hard. No one really reached out to him before, unless it was to make fun of him and get in his head. He was the school’s punching bag. Even school nerds like Jared Kleinman picked on him. He always noticed you before. You never laughed at him when other made jokes. But he didn’t realize that not only a friendship was forming, but a crush as well. And when he did, it was too late to abort. This boy was in love with you from the time you spotted those fall out boy lyrics to be honest.

Another ding snapped you out of your reminiscing.

6 messages from Connor:

Are you alive


no that’s ridiculous

of course you are


you never not text me

You texted him back quickly, knowing he was probably thinking of all the ways you just lying on the street dead to your body floating in the river face down. He confessed that this happened a lot to you. He’d just get bad, intrusive thoughts he couldn’t shake away.

im alive and well. Just babysitting my nephew Carter. HES SO CUTE

You snapped a picture of Carter playing Uno and sent it to Connor. Before you could even put down your phone, another familiar ding alerted you.

1 message from Connor:


you’re heartless

4 messages from Connor:

i know

guess i’ll go hang with my other friends


woe is me

shut up nerd

if you want, come babysit

1 message from Connor:

hell fucking no

well i have to go then. i gotta win this game of uno this 3 year old is putting me to shame

2 messages from Connor:

you’re so embarrassing why am i friends with you

i’ll be over in ten

You smiled at the last message. Connor wasn’t the only one with the crush. Yes, yours did develop later in your relationship, but it was definitely equal to Connors admiration for you. Connor didn’t really start opening up after about three months into your friendship. Once he talked about the whole Kurt Cobain thing, he kind of laid low for a little, you having to steer the conversation if you wanted it to live. He was touchy, so you had to handle him with care. You tried to bring it up a few times, to just get immediately shut down. You’d always ask in school, because you weren’t at the point of hanging outside of it yet. But he’d always change topic. It’s not like he didn’t trust you, it was everyone around him. Paranoid they were secretly listening in on your chats. So, you decided to take initiative. It was exactly 3 months of you being friends, so you asked if he wanted to hang.


“What…” he replied, seemingly uninteresting as he doodled along the margin of his already finished calc problems. He was actually a fucking genius. He wasn’t just artistic, but the kid had a brain. But that’s a different topic.

“You know what today is?”

“I ‘donno know,” all his words kind of running together, “Friday?”

“No.” you felt dumb now. “Never mind.”

“No what’s today. I like hearing your weird ass facts. Is it like, Morrissey’s birthday, or like the anniversary of The Queen Is Dead album?”

“You’re gonna find it stupid that I was even going to make a big deal out of it, so, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”




“Fucking god, (Y/N). Just tell me already.”

“It’s our ¼ friendaversary.”

“What? What the fuck is that shit?”

“See. I knew you’d find it dumb.”

“N-no, I just don’t know what the fuck that is.” Connor genuinely asked.

“We’ve been friends for three months, Connor. That’s what it means. I thought you were good at math?”

“That’s a thing? And people celebrate that? I wasn’t aware that was a milestone.”

“No, people don’t really celebrate it. But we do our own thing.”

“How is it three months?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, how do you figure?”

“Oh… It’s the day we talked about fall out boy. Remember?” You shifted awkwardly in your desk, realizing that knowing the exact date you first bonded was creepy.

“Barely.” he lied. Of course, he fucking did. He wouldn’t stop thinking about you that moment for the rest of that week. Then, he’d just think of you in general from that point on all the time. You consumed his thoughts, both during day and night. You were even in his dreams.

“We should, like, I don’t know… Hang out tonight.”

“We’ve never hung out before. What would we even do.”

“Friend things.” you sneered

“And what does that consist of.” he jabbed back.

“I don’t know, Connor. Like, use that vivid imagination of yours. Pizza and a movie. Pizza and video games. Pizza and anything. Pizza just had to be the foundation.

“Well, do you wanna go out somewhere. Or like hang out at someone’s house?”

“It’s getting cold out so we can hang at one of our houses, if you want?”

“Um, can we go to yours? My parents will be home and I don’t like to ask them things.”

“Sure, they won’t mind you’re going to be over right?”

“Um, I wasn’t going to tell them.”

“Why, are you embarrassed of me.” you joked. Connor didn’t respond right away. “Wait, are you?”

“No, of course not. It’s just…” he paused, pursing his lips, you noticed his prominent cupid’s bow. “It’s complicated.” he grumbled, “What time do you want me over for this stupid celebration.”

“Well if you think it’s stupid-”

Connor started speaking over you, “For this very awesome, cool, great, fan-fucking-tastic celebration. I misspoke.”


“Can’t wait.” he responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. But you both knew he couldn’t.

That night consisted of pizza, of course. And Connor opted for old NES games, which he beat you at every single time.

“Okay, literally fuck Excitebike! It’s so dumb you can overheat your bike?” I shouted, throwing my controller.

“You’re such a sore loser.”

“I am not! It’s just Excitebike is dumb. Let’s go back to Punch Out!, or Galaga. I’m warmed up now, and I’ll definitely win.”

“You’ve said that after every single game.”

“No, I’m serious now, my game was just off.”


“Plus, I had drawing today, so my hand was already tired.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N).”

“I think I broke my thumb last week squeezing it between my locker.”

“Of course you did.” he taunted, trying to resist a smile. His eyes were gleaming, he was enamored. He was trying even harder to not kiss you.

“I’m going to beat you next week.”

“Next week?”

“I mean, if you’re free.” you tried to not sound desperate, but failing.

“Do you see all my other friends lining up to hang out with me?” he deadpanned.

“Then, It’s a date.”

“Date?” Connor quickly caught your phrasing, trying to understand your intention.

You froze, “You know, not an actual date. Like, a platonic date, bro.” you tried your hardest to brush it off, but failing. Again. You scolded yourself for using the term ‘bro’. But Connor let it go, though he did feel wounded.

“Got it, bro.” Sourly putting emphasis on the latter word, “Play me again so I can fucking win for the millionth time.” he said, a little too aggressively.

“You good?”

“Dandy. I just want to prove I’m good enough for you.” he accidentally professed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquired.

“God, just play me. That’s what I mean.”

You didn’t want to press him. The tension in the air was at an all-time high. Connor never really got snippy like this with you. I mean, yes, he did sometimes raise his voice or make a rude remark. But he’d habitually curse under his breath and apologize immediately. You always understood, knowing all the pent-up anger inside him. But then Connor seemed to relax again once you started playing Punch Out!, taking his anger out through Little Mac on King Hippo, and then the two of you went back to having fun. In Connor’s head though, he definitely planned to kiss you that night, but the way to swerved the date topic, he lost all his confidence. Taking it as you’d never see him in a romantic light. That was almost 6 months ago, and he still hasn’t made a move.

You came out of your daydream once again when Carter yelled out Uno, well a version of the word.

“Unope!” he added a P in the end for whatever reason. You decided against telling him. How were you losing to a 3-year-old for the seventh time?! He placed down a red 4, excitement in his eyes. He definitely had a red, you could see it in his eyes. You looked at your hand, filled with about a dozen reds from the draw 4s he was hitting you with. So, you decided to take your chance picking up a card from the deck. A yellow 4.

“You aren’t winning today.” you placed the card down, smirking. The 3-year-old squealed out and slapped down a yellow 7.

“Outto!!!” he cheered, the bastard winning again. You couldn’t believe he had a yellow out of everything.

You throw up your cards in a joking manner, “You don’t even know the whole alphabet!” another fit of giggles came from your nephew.

“I least he can win at Uno,” a voice came through the door. “You’re a destined loser. I don’t think you’ve ever won at anything.” Connor trudged through the door in his beat up brown jean jacket and combat boots, his nose red from the cold approaching winter air.

“False!” you yelled out, going up to Connor and giving him a bear hug. He slung an arm around you, bringing him closer to him. He rested his chin on your head, inhaling your scented shampoo. He couldn’t pick out the scent, but you reminded him he needed to wash his hair soon.

“Solitaire doesn’t count. You literally okay that by yourself.”

You pushed him away, “Whatever, shut up. I’m not a sore loser at least.”

“You totally are though?” he remarks back, “You make up excuses. You just told your nephew he doesn’t know the alphabet because you’re angry you lost.”

“I said, whatever! Shut up.” you fake yell like you’re pissed off. “Connor, this is Carter, my favorite nephew. Carter, this is Connor, my least favorite friend.” Connor waved awkwardly at the child before him, Carter got up from his chair and jumped down. He tugged on his skinny jean pant leg that was still too big because he was so lanky. His legs were skinnier than yours.

“It’s touching me.” Connor whispered to you.

“Carter wants you to pick him up. He probably wants to tell you something.”

“How do I pick it up.”

“Connor, why are you an inept alien? Like you aren’t from earth.”

Connor leans down and scoops up Carter, Carter whispering something in his ear.

“Both our names do begin with C. You are correct. Here I thought you didn’t know your alphabet.” Connor repeated what Carter told him aloud, looking over at you and raising his eyebrow. Carter whispered again, cupping his hands around his mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

“You know until L,” he paused, listening more. “Yeah, no I get it, it does get confusing at that point.” Carter continued. You couldn’t help but to burn up at the sight. Your two favorite guys. “Yeah, I’ll stop talking out loud.” you assumed Carter asked him to keep the next thing a secret. Connor starts to turn red and looks at you for a split second. Connor puts Carter down, trickery written on your nephew’s face, bashfulness on Connor’s. Carter ran into your living room, picking up train tracks and started to build.

You squeeze Connor’s thin arm, “What did he tell you?”

Connor smiled lopsidedly, “It’s a secret. I can’t tell you.” he confidently takes your hand and dragged you into the living room. The three of you spend the day playing with trains, then move to watching rug rags, then back to trains, and then finally Carter passed out fast asleep coloring with Connor at the table. You pick Carter up, leaving Connor to keep coloring.

“Is he knocked out?” Connor realizing you left, walking to the bottom of the stairs, watching you walk up them with Carter on your back.

“Yes, finally. I thought we were going to have to play trains again. A girl can only play with Thomas a number of times before she goes a little stir crazy.”

Connor catches up to you on the steps, “I can put him to bed, if you wanna clean up downstairs.” he proposes, you nodded and let Connor take Carter off your back. You watched as Carter curled up in Connor’s chest, having your stomach dropped.

Shit. You really liked Connor.

You realized you were just staring at Connor, making him shift awkwardly under your stare. “Um, I’m, uh, yeah. I’m gonna go do that.” you chuckled awkwardly, going downstairs. Mentally punching yourself in the face for being weird. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought to yourself. You start with the crayons, putting them back in the box. You picked up pictures that Carter drew. You laughed at the stick figures, most of them being Connor, him, and you. Flipping through the pictures, Carter start drawing you and Connor holding hands, then there was one of you two dancing, then the last one displayed you kissing. You smile softly, thinking about the possibility of what Carter told Connor that he blushed so furiously at. You looked over at the end of the table, realizing a turned over paper where Connor was sitting. You glanced at the stairs making sure Connor was still upstairs. You creep over to the paper, turning it over.

It was you. Where you were sitting, coloring, looking down with strands of your hair falling in front of your eyes. Eyes that seemed to sparkle, smile lines that corresponded with an closed smirk, a soft dimple marking your cheek. He made you look so beautiful. It was so…  realistic. And, just amazing.

“Don’t look at that.” Connor hissed, trying taking it out of your hands.

“This is me…” you stated, trailing off.

“It’s nothing. Let it go.” he continued, not sure if he meant the paper or the topic.

“No, I have questions.”

“I’m not playing 20/20 questions. Just forget I drew that. Rip it up.”

“What did Carter tell you.”

“I have to go, (Y/N), it’s getting late.”

“Just tell me, Connor.”

“The secret? The stupid fucking secret some 3 year old told me?”

“I wanna know the secret you’ve been keeping from me for like 6 months.”

“And what the fuck would that be.” He knew what you were getting on about.

“Tell me how you feel about me.”

Connor blushed, “I’m leaving.”

“Stop,” you run in front of the door. Placing a hand on Connor’s chest.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Then when will you?!” You whisper shout, remembering Carter is still upstairs sleeping,

You two stared at each other, both feeling vulnerable. Connor clenched his jaw.

“Never. You’re too good for me. You’re a thousand times too good for me. I don’t deserve you. I’m a loser, a freak. And you’re, I don’t even fucking know a good word to describe you. You're… just… perfect. And I know deep down you don’t actually like me. Just let me go home. I’ve embarrassed myself enough, don’t you think.

“You’re so dense, Connor.” You grabbed the back of his head, doing what he should’ve 6 months ago. Really, what you should’ve done 9 months ago. Your lips collided together. The kiss itself was flawed: Connor kissed you back to roughly, your noses bumped, and both of you kind of smelled like wax from the crayons. But it was enough. It was more than enough for both of you. It was perfect.

“Finally.” a tiny voice said from the top of the stairs, “Took you guys long enough.” You both snapped your heads over, breaking the kiss. It’s the fucking kid.

“Talk to us when you know the alphabet.” Connor called out, kissing you lightly this time like he’d never hurt you, and he never will. Carter trotted back to his room.

“Someone needs to tuck me in again.” Carter yelled. You looked over at Connor.

“Yeah, I got it.” Connor told you, and started for the stairs. “Oh, and if isn’t obvious, I fucking love you, (Y/N).”

You rolled your eyes at his word choice, but your stomach did back flips, “I fucking love you, Murphy.”


Everybody Hurts Sometime by Jeff Giles
Excerpt from Newsweek interview with Michael Stipe
Newsweek, 9/26/94, Vol. 124 Issue 13, p60, 3p.

What can you tell me about “Let Me In”?
That’s a song that I wrote to Kurt Cobain after he killed himself. [Pause.] I, um…I should be able to do this without getting emotional. [Pause.] I lost a friend in October – River Phoenix was a very, very close friend of mine. And I’ve never suffered such a profound loss. I couldn’t write for five months. We had started the record in September. I’d written two songs and then River died. And, having written “Automatic for the People,” I was not about to write another record about death and loss. So it took me five months to sit down and write again. Then, halfway through making “Monster,” Kurt died. At that point, I just threw my hands up and wrote “Let Me In.”

So when you sing “Hey, let me in” – that’s you talking to Cobain?
That was me on the phone to him, desperately trying to get him out of the frame of mind he was in….In the most big- brotherly way – God, I hate that term – in the most genuine way, I wanted him to know that he didn’t need to pay attention to all this, that he was going to make it through. If R.E.M. had sold 5 million copies of “Murmur,” none of us would be alive to tell the tale. I really believe that. I’d have died with Quaaludes in my blood and a lot of Jack Daniels.

What else did you and Cobain have in common?
One of the things I think I’ve done successfully as a media figure is avoid a lot of the cliches, like the macho posing. I’ve tried really hard to blur the lines, and a lot of that does have to do with sexuality. I like fucking around with gender. I like writing songs that aren’t gender-specific. And I really felt an alliance with both Kurt and River in that both of those guys, in their respective fields, were doing the same thing.

The cliched take on your career is that, when you started out, you were very shy.
It’s not a cliche. It’s the dead truth. I was unbearably shy. And that’s part of what drew me to River. I recognized that in him. The first time I met him, his hair was completely covering his face. And I was like, “God, that was me at 22.” There’s an incredible vulnerability at the core of what River, Kurt and I do – or did.

Just before his death, Cobain said all he wanted to do was record with you. Do you know what sort of music he had in mind?
Yeah, he talked a lot about what direction he was heading in. I mean, I know what the next Nirvana recording was going to sound like. It was going to be very quiet and acoustic, with lots of stringed instruments. It was going to be an amazing fucking record, and I’m a little bit angry at him for killing himself. He and I were going to record a trial run of the album, a demo tape. It was all set up. He had a plane ticket. He had a car picking him up. And at the last minute he called and said, “I can’t come.”

Yin and Yang

Originally posted by walxx

Request: Omg can you write a peter maximoff imagine where the reader is the total opposite of him, nerdy,clumsy and likes to take things at a slower pace, maybe they like each other cause they are each other’s Ying and yang? I love your writing!

Notes: Okay, so, first Peter Maximoff fic. I’m kind of iffy on how it turned out, it was kind of hard to have everything happen so fast and all but I hope you guys like it!

Keep reading

Champ Already (Samoa Joe smut)

Requested? Yes. What was requested? This is based off the dream. Y/N debuts for Raw. Joe comes out during her matches and closely watches her. A few weeks have passed that she finally asks why he comes out to watch her and stalk her. He tells her that he has to have her, Paul comes out and attacks her character, he immediately goes after Paul for talking shit about her. What happens when she thanks Joe? She kisses him passionately which leads to a whole lot of shower sex. WWE gives them a storyline as a power couple. 

Tag List (Tell me if you want to be tagged in any of my fics) : @the-geekgoddes @crookedmoonsaultpunk @behindthesesilvereyes @theelitevillian @neeadinghugs @hoodgirl163 @flawlessglamazon @hardcorewwetrash @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues @foreverwwefan @canadianknockout @wwesmutdonedirtcheap

Warnings: smut, shower sex, slight slut shaming, trashing of someone’s career, mentions of having a stalker, fingering,  

Keep reading

Klaine fic - “Need for Speed” (Rated NC17)

Kurt Hummel moves from California to Lima after his dad’s heart attack causes them to lose their repair shop. Kurt leaves his prestigious performing arts school and any chance of moving to New York and getting into NYADA. His only other joy in life is custom tuning cars, but his father doesn’t approve. Things seem to get back on track when he joins the Dalton Crew as their mechanic, behind his father’s back. He’ll make the money he needs as long as he can put up with the unwanted attention of Sebastian Smythe. But, how will his dreams change after he meets the head of the McKinley Crew, Blaine Anderson, who decides that winning Kurt Hummel will be his next big challenge?

For those of you who don’t know, this is one of my first and, in my opinion, flagship fics, so I’m doing a little touch-up job on it in preparation for the sequel. I’ll be posting the revised chapters here one at a time to give everyone who wants the chance to re-read it and get re-acquainted with it. It is posted in its entirety on AO3 and, with the majority of the chapters revised, if you want to go that route, but if you guys could also spread this around, I would really appreciate it <3 The cover for this story was done by the incredible @freakingpotter so you guys should all go and give her some love because she hella deserves it :)

Chapter 1 (2772 words)

Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, elbows propped on his knees, head in his hands. He felt like crying, and not just a calm, rejuvenating sob, but an all-out, throw-yourself-on-the-floor-kicking-your-legs-and-flailing-your-arms-while-you-wail-like-a-skewered-seal tantrum. He looked around at the worn cardboard boxes piled high in his room, each labeled accordingly - clothes, books, music, Vogue magazines, misc. - all waiting patiently to be unpacked and put away, but Kurt wanted none of it. Unpacking his things and settling in felt so permanent. It felt like giving in. Once he put his clothes in his closet and his books in the bookcase, it would all be real.

Setting his room up would mean he was staying.

Keep reading

I started writing this as a response to one of the post-episode messages I got, but it took on a life of its own and well, might as well share. No point keeping it in my drafts, right? Here’s my reaction to the last scene in the finale (short version: I loved it).

We know that for just under two years, Weller’s relationship prevailed and most probably overcame tons and tons of obstacles. We know that their love was stronger than almost everything that they came up against, and that they never stopped being in love, and that at some point Kurt got down on one knee and proposed and that Jane said yes. We know that Jane joined the FBI and they continued to be this unstoppable team that took on the world and put bad people away and kicked butt as leaders and colleagues and as a couple. And just imagine all those times Jane was in danger in the field, or Kurt was in danger, and the other one was losing their mind. Imagine the relief when the other one was okay and imagine how beautiful it must have been not to hide their feelings or their relationship anymore. And they got married. They got married, you guys! Mr. Too Choosy chose Jane Doe. They got married and exchanged vows and wore those rings around their fingers proudly. 

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Clinging to This Hating Game 6/?

For the @prompt-a-klainefic blog’s 2017 Reverse Bang

Link to the art by @datshitrandom

the prompt:

Kurt and Blaine couldn’t stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school.

High School AU, Cheerio!Kurt, Jock!Blaine
Rating: Explicit
Warnings:  some bullying and homophobic language, teenage sex
Word Count: ~3900 (this chapter)

Forever thanks to @mshoneysucklepink of course

Everything wonky is my fault.

AO3 link Chapter 6

On tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5


So I was considering adding to this part, which is why I was going to hold it a few days, but on reflection I think I like it as is. And I think they go better closer together.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Attempted sexual assault, homophobic slurs


Chapter 6

Kurt cut school on Friday too. Rachel had texted him to tell him that Blaine had also been accepted and asking him if he’d gotten a letter. Kurt ignored her.

His family had indulged him, and Finn had even been kind enough not to tell Rachel Kurt had been rejected, until Kurt had decided it would be easier for Finn to do it and then he wouldn’t have to answer any questions on Monday. Kurt turned his phone off completely after her seventh text asking how he was and what was he going to do now.

Monday turned out to be unbearable anyway. He managed to avoid talking to Rachel until glee club, but she went on and on until Kurt had to stop her.

“Rachel. You need to stop. You and Blaine can run off to New York together and be Broadway besties and I will stay here in Lima and become the first flaming midwestern car mechanic of Ohio.” The whole class went silent. “But until then could you keep your thrilling futures to yourselves? Please?” He wasn’t probably being unfair to Blaine. He hadn’t gloated about anything. He hadn’t really said anything at all in fact.

Until now.

“I’m not going to NYADA.”

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Friendly Competition [a Sebastian Smythe imagine]

a/n: snow day aka seduce seb day (or i had an idea) /requests closed right now/

WARNING: Seduction…?

Mr. Shue’s idea is so…ugh. The glee club invited the Warblers to do some performances with each other. Some kind of ‘attempt to reach good terms’. You stand on stage next to Britney, arms crossed over your tight black crop top, glaring at Sebastian. “Okay, Y/N, you can present first. Is there anything you need before I leave to talk to Miss P?” Mr. Shue asks, hands on the edge of the stage.

“Why, yes, Mr. Shue, I need Sebastian…” you pat the plastic chair, “Right here.” you grin, legs moving in your leather shorts. Nodding, Mr. Shue points to the stage; the Warbler sneers, hopping on stage and plopping in the seat, crossing his arms. Shue exits and you peer at Britney and Santana, who are also in black.

The music starts; Santana begins. “What it do babyboo?” she nods at her girlfriend, rapping, “Yeah, little mama you lookin’ good, I see you wanna play with a player from the hood. Come holla at me, you got it like that, Big Snoop Dogg, with the lead Pussycat. I show you how it go down, yeah, I wanna go down. Me and you, one on one, treat you like a shorty; You look at me and I look at you, I’m reachin’ for your shirt what you want me to do?” she freestyles.

You strut towards Sebastian, singing the chorus, “I’m telling you loosen up my buttons baby (Uh huh), but you keep fronting (Uh),” you squat in front of him, rubbing your hands through your hair as Brit and Rachel sing backup. “saying what you goin’ do to me (Uh huh), but I ain’t seen nothing (Uh).”

Standing up, you stalk around him, licking your bottom lip. He shifts uncomfortably, mossy green eyes following your every move, dress slacks becoming tight. “Typical, hardly the type I fall for. I like when the physical.” you pull his striped tie, causing his arms to fall at his sides. “Don’t leave me asking for more. I’m a sexy mama (Mama).” you smirk, watching his pouty mouth open wide, “Who knows just how to get what I wanna (Wanna). What I want to do is spring this on ya (On ya). Back up all of the things that I told ya (Told ya, told ya, told ya)…”

Sebastian swallows harshly, feeling your fingers run up his white button down. His dick is throbbing at the sight of your breasts in his face. Oh god…. “You been sayin’ all the right things all night long, but I can’t seem to get you over here to help take this off. Baby, can’t you see? (See) How these clothes are fittin’ on me? (Me)” Roughly, you push his navy blue blazer off his shoulders, making him gasp. “And the heat coming from this beat (Beat). I’m about to blow. I don’t think you know…” you sing, letting the other girls sing the chorus again.

As his blazer falls to the floor, you back away, unzipping your black hoodie, exposing your crop top fully. “You say you’re a big boy, but I can’t agree. ‘Cause the love you said you had, ain’t been put on me.” you smirk, sashaying up to the snarky Warbler. “I wonder (Wonder), if I’m just too much for you. Wonder (Wonder), if my kiss don’t make you just…Wonder (Wonder) what I got next for you. What you want to do? (Do)” you ask, batting your eyelashes, hands running up his thighs.

Sebastian squirms, scoffing, eyebrows furrowing as if silently asking ‘are you kidding?’. You smirk, showing off your breasts, “Take a chance to recognize that this could be yours.” you point to yourself; his eyes darken. “I can see, just like most guys, that your game don’t please. Baby, can’t you see? (See) How these clothes are fittin’ on me? (Me)” you toss your hoodie of the stage. Kurt catches it, laughing. Sebastian breathes heavily when you yank him by his tie. “And the heat coming from this beat (Beat). I’m about to blow, I don’t think you know…” you throw your head back, going into the chorus again as the other girls dance.

Puckering your lips, you get ready to rap, moving to the back of the chair. The Warbler groans, feeling you mess up his hair. “Now you can get what you want, but I need what I need, And let me tell you what’s crackalackin’ before I proceed.” you grab his chin, forcing his head to the side; his jaw tenses. “Ima show you where to put it at. PCD told me, yeah, I thought I saw a Pussycat.” you smirk, seeing him glare at you. “Now roll with the big dog, all six of y'all on me, now tell me how it feel babydoll. Ashley, Nicole, Carmit, Jessica, Kimberly, Melody, you feelin’ me?” you muse, letting of his jaw.

“Ha, ha…hot!” Britney smirks, fanning herself and pausing.

Santana laughs, leaning on her girlfriend, “Ha, ha…loosen up!”

“Ha, ha…yeah…” Rachel and Quinn say together.

You step toward the front of him, face to face, “Ha, ha…I can’t take this…” you mumble, stomping to the beat as the chorus returns.

Suddenly, he stands up, knocking the chair back with his foot. The music stops and the two of you stare at each other, making the New Directions and Warblers uncomfortable. “Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me.” Sebastian smirks, gesturing to you and him, “Let’s talk about all the good things, and the bad things that may be.” The rest of the Warblers join him from below the stage as he corners you to the wall. “Let’s talk about sex, let’s talk about sex, let’s talk about se-”

“Throw your clothes!” you cut him off, grabbing his arms and placing them around your waist. “On the floor!” He harmonizes, shaking his head slightly. “I’m gonna take my clothes off too; I made plans to be with you.” you sing together, hitting the note perfectly. Your eyelids screw shut, “Girl whatever you ask me, you know, I could do!”

Sebastian picks you up, ignoring the other people in the room; hands under your thighs. “I’ll make love to you, like you want me to. And I’ll hold you tight, baby all through the night. I’ll make love to you, when you want me to. And I will not let go 'till you tell me to…” he sings, eyes darting to your lips.

“Touch my body, put me on the floor… Wrestle me around, play with me some more. Touch my body, throw me on the bed…” you hum, hands flying to his hair, “I just wanna make you feel like you never did. Touch my body, let me wrap my thighs all around your waist. Just a little taste. Touch my body, know you love my curves-”

Sebastian presses his lips to yours, surprising everyone. (Kurt screams in horror and Blaine covers his mouth.) You groan, tugging on his chestnut hair. The door squeaks open and  you jump down, looking at Mr. Shue entering. “Guys! You do your song yet?” he asks cheerfully.

“Yes they did.” Sebastian smirks, gazing at you, “It was…electric.” he winks, picking up his blazer from the floor and swinging it over his shoulder. “I gotta go. Can’t stand this public school smell…” he sneers, peering at you quickly before heading off stage.

Huffing, your shoulders slump. Britney touches your upper arm as the Warblers pile through the double doors. “It’s okay, Y/N, maybe you can have sex with the mean molerat another day.” she says hopefully.

Your eyes go wide, “Britney, shh!”

i think i wanna marry you (jane/kurt fanfic)

Summary: Three times Kurt asked Jane to marry him and one time he didn’t. A series of Jeller vignettes.

A/N: Some sweet moments for Jeller. This got pretty long and somehow got fluffier and fluffier as it went on, hopefully you won’t mind. Fountain scene in iii. loosely inspired by Sex and the City.


She could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the bullpen to the desk of one of the junior analysts. His eyes were always on her these days, he barely let her move two feet without an offer of assistance or word of caution.

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X- men pref. Hamilton Songs.

Originally posted by eavensmusings

I know my sister like I know my own mind
You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind
If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned
He’d be mine
She would say, “I’m fine”
She’d be lying!

You forced a smile as you saw Scott kiss your sister, Jean, as she walked out of her class. It was hard being in love with your sisters boyfriend. Well, it was your fault that you were in this position that you just happened to be in. 

You met him a few months ago, he was new and a big flirt. After a few attempts of flirting with you, you introduced him to your sister Jean, knowing that it would be a chance to escape the horrible pick up lines. 

But after you got to know him more, you couldn’t deny your feelings for him. But he was already with Jean. 

You knew that you would just have to suck it up. You knew Jean better than anyone else, you knew what she struggled with, how kind and trusting she was. You knew with out a doubt that Jean would break up with Scott for you, but you couldn’t let her. It would crush your sister to give him up, to know that she’s too nice to say no. 

So you kept your emotions under control. At least my dear Jean is his. 

- Satisfied.

Originally posted by magnetosmind

An immigrant you know and love who’s unafraid to step in!
He’s constantly confusin’, confoundin’ the British henchmen
Ev’ryone give it up for America’s favorite fighting Frenchman!

You weren’t a mutant. Just a plan old human with combat skills better than the Avengers put together. No one knew of this of course, to the whole school and your boyfriend Peter, all they knew that you were a big deal and they don’t know why. 

“Mon amour,” You spoke to your boyfriend in your native language. “Stay safe.” With a simple kiss on the cheek, he sped off, ready to go on another mission with the X-Men. 

A few days later, you had been assigned to go on a mission, kill a few people who were working for HYDRA. The fight was easy, shoot a few guys, snap some necks with your thighs, the usual. It was almost amusing how easily they were to take down. 

“Y/N?” You heard a voice say, you turn around to lock eyes with your boyfriend. The moment of silence between you was odd, Peter was staring at the bodies with wide eyes. “Damn.”

- Guns and Ships

Originally posted by claracivry

Let me tell you what I wish I’d known
When I was young and dreamed of glory:
You have no control:
Who lives, who dies, who tells your story

To Kurt it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the girl he loved, the girl who had the purest heart in the world had to die. Ever since your death, Kurt had been a mess. He locked himself in his room, refusing to see or talk to anyone. The only time anyone had seen him was at your funeral. 

“You know I use to believe that if you were good, good would happen.” Kurt told Scott, after he broke the door off. “I use to pray twice every day, go to church, help when needed. And I came her and met Y/N, and I thought ‘this is my good coming back’ because she was the most amazing person I have ever met.

And now she’s dead. She was so kind. Always letting go before her, giving away when she had none. All to die so soon. I find myself laying down at night, thinking why. Why her? She did nothing wrong. Why do bad things keep on happening to the best people?”

- History has its eyes on you

Originally posted by evanpetersxsophieturner

Oh, am I talkin’ too loud?
Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth
I never had a group of friends before

You were Jean’s first girlfriend, first friend, first person to make her feel valid. You found it cute as she rambled, going on and on about she read a bullshit article in the news paper. 

“I mean did they even check their facts!” She exclaimed, her voice raising a bit. “Shit!” She yelled, realizing her voice was getting louder, before apologizing. 

“Don’t,” You told her. “It’s okay, you just got a little excited. It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? B- Because I don’t want to be like screaming in your face, I mean i just don’t get to talk a lot so an-”

You cut her off with a kiss. “It’s fine.”

- My Shot

Klaine Summer Challenge Day 8- Walking on Sunshine

Word Count: 1,130

Summers often make Blaine feel lonely. (Warnings for depression and anxiety attacks.) AO3

He thinks the heat must be getting to him.

That’s the only explanation he can think of, why else is he tired all the time, or why he’s so hot that he can’t stand to leave the house or even walk down stairs to eat.

More than anything he’s bored.

When he was at Dalton, everything was go, go, go. He woke up and did the same thing everyday, and while most people are ready to escape the tedious routine of school, he misses having something to do everyday. It’s only the end of June, but he spends most of his days waking up at noon (after falling to a restless sleep at 2am) and then taking a nap at around six o’clock.

The time spent in between is spent doing nothing.

He reads, he’s been reading a lot, but the words on the page muddle together and he just gives up and watches another movie instead.

“I miss you guys,” he says to his mom over video chat one afternoon- he can’t even remember what day of the week it is, they all feel the same. “I wish you guys didn’t have to be gone for so long.

“We know sweetheart,” Pam says with a sigh. “But your grandmother is really sick and your father needs me right now.”

But i need you too, Blaine thinks, but doesn’t say in fear of sounding selfish. His grandmother has been sick for a while and the humidity in her retirement residence in Florida isn’t helping her. His parents left at the beginning of the month, right after he finished the school year.

“Have you been having fun? Hanging out with your friends?” She asks.

They’re all with their families on vacation, he thinks bitterly

“A bit,” he lies. “They’re all busy.”

“Oh, well how’s Kurt?” Pam asks, changing the subject with remorse.

While Blaine usually smiles at the mention of Kurt, his heart sinks a bit.

“We’ve gone on a couple dates,” he says, and it’s true. They went to the movies last week - and Blaine was so happy because he didn’t have to talk- and Kurt took him to the New Directions end of the year party, where he mostly sat around and drank soda while everyone else hung out.

He doesn’t blame Kurt for not making him a priority, they’ve only been together for a few months, and when they do hang out Blaine is so nervous because he rarely spends time with people these days.

“We’ll be back in a few weeks honey,” his mom says. “And when we do we’ll all go out as a family- maybe we’ll get Cooper to come back home.”

I’m not even fun to be around, Blaine thinks.

“Yeah mom, that’ll be great.”


Kurt texts him late one afternoon if he wants to go on a picnic tomorrow, and Blaine doesn’t even text back until after nine, a simple “Sure, I’d love to :)”.

When he wakes up the next morning it’s a completely different story.

First off all, it’s Saturday. Which means more people in the park than usual and it’ll be so crowded and it’s so hot outside he spends thirty minutes after waking up walking around in his undershirt and boxers and opening all the windows, his breaths becoming shorter. He starts thinking that he has nothing to wear-  he hasn’t done laundry since the end of May- so he’s thinking that Kurt will make fun of his outfit and ohgodishouldjustcancelnow starts running through his head until he’s sitting on the couch, his leg shaking hard and his head feeling like it’s been filled with cotton and rocks at the same time.

The doorbell rings, and it rings multiple times when Blaine can’t force himself to get up to answer. After what feels like an hour, he picks his body and the edges of his vision are fuzzy as he tugs furiously on the doorknob.

“Hey, I thought you may be asleep- you’re not even dressed?” Kurt asks curiously.

The floor sways under Blaine’s feet. “I’m sorry, oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

Kurt tries to place his hand on Blaine’s shoulder but he tenses up so much he retracts. “Are you okay?”

No no no, Blaine thinks. “I can’t breathe,” he confesses, tears brimming in his eyes and threatening to fall on his cheeks.

“Oh Blaine, let’s sit down,” Kurt says steadily, it the most solid thing Blaine is aware of. He feels a strong hand on the center of his back, his feet trudging forward with its guidance as he’s lowered on the couch.

Blaine is shaking and the room is blurring around him and Kurt says something like “lie” - it sounds so far away- and then he feels himself being laid down on the couch. He starts feeling nauseous so he closes his eyes until the pounding in his ears fades away.

When he wakes up project runway is playing at a low volume on the T.V. and Kurt’s hand is toying with the hair on his head.

“You’re still here?”Blaine asks. He debates sitting up but his head hurts too bad.

“Of course,” Kurt replies immediately, his voice soft. ”Plus you’e kind of on my lap.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“I think you said that enough earlier,” Kurt says in a slightly teasing tone. “What happened?”

Blaine explains, and he cries again but Kurt stay silent give or take a few hmms here and there. He apologizes mores and Kurt lets him, going in a steady pattern on the back of his head as they watch models on the screen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Is Kurt’s first question.

I didn’t want to bother you. I thought you wouldn’t care. I was hoping it would go away.

“It’s complicated. I don’t really know..” Blaine trails off.

“It’s okay,” Kurt says and Blaine smiles quietly. “We’re still going on that picnic you know.”

Blaine furrows his brow. “Oh I don’t know if I-”

“Trust me,” Kurt says quickly. “Go get dressed.”

Blaine sighs and goes upstairs, and puts on a pair of shorts a clean shirt from the floor, thinking that there’s no point in lying and trying to look too presentable.

He brushes his teeth and goes downstairs to see that Kurt has opened all the blinds and has the food he packed splayed out on the coffee table.

“It’s too hot out,” Kurt smiles, “But we can still enjoy the sun.”

Blaine finds an old blanket in the hall closet and spreads it out on the floor. He can Kurt rewind the episodes of project runway he missed and feed each other grapes in silence while leaning against the couch. It’s still hot, but now the sunlight feels warm in a more comforting way.

Size Isn’t Everything 3/4

(Yes it’s 4 chapters now)

Summary: Kurt’s got a bit of a size-kink. Based on this prompt from the @prompt-a-klainefic blog.
Chapter: 2/4  Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here
Words: ~2745 (this chapter)
Warnings:  I guess? PWP, Size kink,

Many thousand apologies for the long delay in between chapters. Blink and weeks disappear. The final chapter should be up before the end of the week, and thanks for still reading!

forever thanks to @mshoneysucklepink for the beta!

“They’re a Black Sabbath tribute band, Kurt. I think they do country versions of all the songs.” Rachel scrunched her face at him. “I think it’s supposed to be ironic.”

“Rachel, we’re in Brooklyn, of course it’s supposed to be ironic.”

The bar was much more crowded than he had expected, with probably close to 40 or 50 people filling up the small space. The stage was low, but so was the ceiling and the band were already crammed up on the tiny stage when they walked in. He and Rachel bought drinks from the bartender and perched themselves near the rear.

“Are we staying for the whole show?” Kurt asked.

“Come on Kurt, Tina and Santana have been rehearsing for two weeks. We all promised to support each other in our creative pursuits.”

Kurt held his hands up. “I’m here! I’m supporting! But I fully expect you will all be there when my show opens.”

“Of course we will.” Rachel patted him on the shoulder, nodding. “I’m going to text Santana and tell her we’re here. I don’t need her to get all pissed off thinking we didn’t show.”

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A Lost Boy Comes Out

Inspired by Darren Criss’ Billboard interview about his amazing new EP, Lost Boys Life.
Klaine, 2250 words, A03

A Lost Boy Comes Out

This headline or a variation on the theme is all over social media, as they knew it would be, but the smile on Blaine’s face when he wakes Kurt up with a kiss the next morning confirms that Blaine has done the right thing by coming out. 

As a vampire.

After Blaine shuffles off to the shower, Kurt lays back in bed, remembering the events of the night before….


Kurt stands in the wings of the small theater, watching as Blaine and Cooper talk easily with the audience.  Blaine’s lovely smile is broad, and he waves his hands excitedly as he speaks about the inspiration for the new song they have just performed.   The evening was advertised as a launch of Blaine and Cooper’s new EP, and includes a variety of songs from the past ten years of Blaine’s career as a songwriter and Broadway star as well as the three new songs penned by Blaine and Cooper together. Kurt had joined him on stage for a piece from the joint album they put out last year, and for a toned down version of a song from the production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf that had been the breakout show for both of them.

But Kurt knows that this evening is more than just a celebration of the new pop project Blaine and Cooper had dreamed up late one night while playing video games.  Blaine is about to share his secret with the world, whether the audience knows it or not.

Blaine shoots Kurt a quick glance as he gets ready to sing their last song, and the nervousness is clear on his face.  Kurt gives what he hopes is an encouraging nod, and then Blaine turns back to the piano and begins the intro to Lost Boys Life.   As he sings about hotel rooms and miles to go, his face is intent on the piano, and Kurt can see how much he wants this to go right.  As Blaine gets to the chorus, he looks up at the audience, eyes wide and pleading, and Kurt’s heart clenches tight in his chest.  

I was living a lonely life until I fell for you,
I was living a lost boys life, it was all I ever knew
And every morning the sun comes up and the darkness fades away
I was living a lost boys life, it was all I had to say.

When Blaine finishes the song the audience breaks into loud applause, and everyone surges to their feet to cheer for him.  This is nothing unusual, of course, and Kurt can feel the grin spreading across his own face as he claps for Blaine from the wings.  After a moment or two he joins Blaine on stage, and the audience whoops for him as well, someone yelling out “we love you Kurt and Blaine” which causes Cooper to give them both a friendly shove.

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You belong with me.

Could you do a quicksilver one where the reader had a really bad date and she goes the Peter to complain about it (he’s secretly in love with her) and he says that he wasn’t worth it and then he confess his feelings and fluff and stuff.

Pairing: Peter Maximoff / Quicksilver x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing (Just in case) | EXTREME FLUFFYNESS.

Word count: 1.5 k.

Jean introduced you to Peter when you arrived at Xavier’s, she walked you to the cafeteria and asked you to sit on her table, you were really comfortable around her because you had similar mutations, both were able to read other people’s minds; the table was already occupied by her friends, Scott, Kurt, Ororo, Jubilee and Peter, and you were a bit shy at first, but they were really kind and supportive and they became your friends a shortly after, but you shared a special bond with Peter.

You began to grow closer when he told Magneto he was his son, Erik didn’t take the news very well, he was still shocked by the death of his family back in Poland, when they started spending more time with each other, they realized they truly cared about each other, but Peter was hurt when his dad left Xavier’s, you were there for him the whole time, and he was there for you as well.

He was your best friend, the only person who could make you feel safe, his smile brightened you day like a rainbow in the middle of a storm  and you were willing to do anything to make him smile.

You knew you loved him, you loved every single detail about him, the way his eyes lit up everytime he spoke about his little sister Wanda, his sense of humor, his hugs, you loved skiping classes with him to go to the arcade, you didn’t care that he always won, but as far as you knew, he didn’t loved you back.

Of course you could sneak into his mind anytime, Jean and professor Xavier had taught you how to control your powers, but you respected Peter’s privacy, and you didn’t want to find out if he liked someone else.

That’s why you decided to go on a date, the other kids from Xavier’s were out of boundaries for you, Scott was with Jean and Kurt had a crush with another girl, Amanda, so you turned to someone you never liked.

Sam had been your neighbor back home for as long as you could remember, you weren’t close friends, when you went home for your brother’s birthday party, you met again, he was still living next door and was a senior in the local High School, he flirted with you the whole party and when he asked you out, you accepted, you had decided that was the only way to control your feelings for Peter before you screwed things up.

When you told Pete about the date, he didn’t care, in fact, he kind of ignored you for a couple days, but he sneaked you off campus anyway.

You realized things weren’t going as you had imagined them when Sam picked you and took you to a hamburger place in Manhattan, he started to brag about how much money his family had and how his father had moved influences so he could attend an Ivy League college.

Sam started to talk about his ex-girlfriends in a very disrespectful way and you started to feel uncomfortable.

When Scott broke up with Jean for a month, all he did was talk about how amazing she was, and how he hoped she’d find someone who could make her really happy, you sneaked into his mind and  learnt that he really felt that way, you wanted a guy who was respectful, not only with women, but with people in general, Sam had been extremely mean with the waiter.

You sneaked into Sam’s mind while bragged about how many football games he had won as a quarterback, and you began to feel sick as soon as you read his mind,  he saw women as objects, and he was a bully too, you had access to his memories and you were able to see scenes of him bullying kids at school, specially kids who lived more humble lives.

That’s when you decided you had to go back to School, to Peter, you didn’t care anymore about the friendzone, you just needed someone to hug, a shoulder to cry on.

Sam went to the bathroom and you walked outside the Dinner as fast as you could, you took the first cab you saw and cried in the backseat, you felt hurt, not because you had feelings for Sam, you were afraid you were never going to find someone who deserved your love, someone worth it.

As you approached the School gates after steping out of the cab, Peter appeared in front of you.

“Peter, were you spying on me?” You asked surprised, wiping away the tears.

“I wanted to make sure you arrived to your room safe.” His words cheered you up a little bit.

“Thank you Speedy, you’re the best.” You said softly, he smiled and wrapped his arms around you, making sure your neck was safe as he speed into the Manor, heading to his room.

He softly placed you on the couch as you struggled to catch your breath, it happened everytime but you’d get used to it eventually, or at least you hoped so.

“And, how was the date?” He asked as he sat next to you, you felt the color leave your skin, he noticed that and took your hand.

“It was awful Pete, he’s such a horrible person.” You shivered, tears were running down your cheeks as you told him about the horrible things you had seen in Sam’s mind.

“Y/N” He whispered, pulling you closer wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace “Don’t cry Y/NN, please, it breaks my heart seeing you like this, don’t worry, I’ll tell Scott, he’ll help me, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“No Pete, it’s not that…” You sobbed “I’m afraid, what if no one ever loves me? What if every single guy in the world is like him?”

“Y/N, first of all, you are the most beautiful human being that has ever walked this earth and you have the purest heart in the whole Universe, that jerk isn’t worth it, one day you’ll find someone who loves you as much as you do.”

“What if I love someone who doesn’t love me back?” You buried your face in Peter’s neck, still sobbing, you wanted to believe his words but you were sure you were never going to love someone as much as you loved him, but he seemed to be friendzoning you once again.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “I-I loved you”ou felt him placing a kiss on the top of your head, “I’ve always loved you, and I understand if you don’t love me back, you don’t have to, but I needed to tell you this, you are the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, you brighten my days like rainbows in the middle of a storm, you make me happier than Eurythmics or Pink Floyd.”

He laughed softly, you had stopped sobbing, your heart was beating so fast you were sure that if it could run, he’d outrun Peter in a race.

“You don’t have to love me back Y/N, just allow me to be a part of your life, I promise I’ll never let you down, I’ll be there whenever you need me, I’ll even be the best man at your wedding if you ever find the right guy, your kids can call me Uncle Pete and I’ll read to them before bed, I’ll help them with their homework, I’ll teach them how to play Pac Man, I’ll buy them pizza when you ground them and I’ll protect them with my life, we will go to the park, to the comic book store, we’ll have horrible family nights playing board games with Chinese takeout, I’ll cook breakfast for them everyday and if you want me to I’ll take them to school.” Peter was describing all you had imagined for your future, kids, horrible family nights, chinese takeout… “I’ll be the best uncle your kids could ever ask for Y/NN, just give me a chance, your kids will love me.”

“Our kids Peter.” You whispered to his ear, you could feel his heart beating against your chest. “Our kids, we’ll read them before bed, we’ll take them to the park, to the movies, I can teach them how to play guitar and you can teach them how to play bass, we’ll have horrible family nights with Chinese takeout and board games, but everything is going to be perfect because it’s going to be our fami…” You couldn’t finish the sentence because Peter had pressed his lips against yours, kissing you in the sweetest way possible.

“I love you Peter, and I will love you forever.” You smiled, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly, you kissed his lips, his cheeks, his nose and his forehead, playing with his hair, while he whispered he loved you over and over again, but you were sure you were never going to get tired of those three words coming out of his mouth.

Title: By Choice (Part One)
Word Count: 5.5K+
Pairing: Kurt Wagner x Female Reader
Summary: Kurt meets someone that makes him realize he’s the only one who can be in charge of his own life, and [Y/N] meets someone that makes her feel she’s the most special person in the world.  
Warnings: None except the tiniest mention of the origin of Kurt’s scars.
A/N: Oh man… this was supposed to be a 2K words story at most but I went overboard, like… really bad, and now I had to split it up in parts. It’s my first story here and I’m freaking out, because it’s a little all over the place. So, if you can tell me what you think about it it would be awesome! Also, English is my second language, so forgive me if I make mistakes (and point them out if you want to, I love learning). As the story progresses, it will include some headcanons [x x x] (or variations of them) that I sent to @shayara. Also, the summary isn’t just for Part One, it’s for the whole story.

It was no secret that Kurt Wagner’s life hadn’t been an easy one. As a child– even though there were many things he just couldn’t remember anymore– he had been despised by the community he should’ve been a part of, who believed him to be a demon that was supposed to be to feared. It hadn’t been easy to spend so much time hiding, terrified of what people would do to him if they ever found out where he was.

But hard as it had been– and by what he swore was the will of God– his life had been blessed by the circus. The circus was the biggest, most important part of Kurt’s life. In there, he found a family: people who accepted him and treated him as their equal. In the circus, he shone. He was The Incredible Nightcrawler, the best acrobat they had ever seen. People admired him and his unbelievable talent for acrobatics– even if they didn’t know that the way he looked on every performance wasn’t a costume, but his own flesh. And yet it didn’t matter, because to Kurt, hiding his true self was worth it when he saw the excited faces of the audience every time he performed.

However, it hadn’t been all good moments that would turn into happy memories. The scars he had inflicted on his own skin were a testament of that. 

One for every sin.

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Sixth Grade

AU where Ram is a year older than Kurt and therefore a grade above him.

I would like to dedicate this work to one of the coolest people I follow, @kurtkellyisgay. I don’t know if you like to read or not and I’m probably annoying you but here you go. Thought it would maybe cheer you up?

Anyway, to everyone reading, I hope you enjoy.


“I’m sorry, Mr. Sweeney, but your son will not be advancing to sixth grade. I’m afraid we’ll have to hold him back a year.” Came the deep voice of the elementary school principal as he gently set down Ram’s file on his large, wooden desk.

The boy in question gulped, his stomach sank, his heart was beating out of his chest, and his eyes dared not look at his father. Bill, however, was calm. He graciously looked over all of Ram’s poor grades, asked about his behavior in class, and questioned how this would affect his future.

That just terrified Ram more. Bill Sweeney was a very passionate man. You knew when he was angry. So, to see him this collected, not one vein popping…well, Ram knew he was in for quite a show once they got home. He put his hand in his pocket. The crinkling of the paper there calmed him.

“He would just be a year behind his original class. As long as he gets his act together from here on out, your son should be just fine.” The Principal must have knew Bill as well, that or he just felt bad for the poor kid, because he continued on to say, “It’s good this happened now, in elementary. Usually, once a kid gets held back a year it never happens again.”

Bill cleared his throat and stood to shake the other man’s hand, effectively ending the conversation.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Martin.” He said simply, turning to look at his son who still had his head down. “Ram, we’re leaving.”

The two walked out, Bill’s hand resting like a two-ton weight on Ram’s shoulder. The Principal watched them go, looking as if he might not see the spunky kid ever again for he’s watching him walk to his death.

Ram was pulled out of class for this meeting. School was only in session for a few more days and the last hour of the day was being spent outside as a means of keeping the kids busy.


Ram remembers the conversation before his fate was officially sealed. Despite the situation, a small smile sprawled on his features as he thought of his best friend and their future together. He lightly touched a hand to his cheek as his dad led them to the parking lot.


“Okay children,” Came the sweet voice of their teacher. “We’ll be having free period since the school year is almost out and there’d be no reason to give out work.”

Cheers erupted as kids jumped out of their desks and left in what could hardly be called a single-filed line. The teachers gave a sigh of relief as they could let the kids run free without keeping such a close watch on their behavior.

Ram lit up as his fifth grade class made it’s way to the small park and field of grass. All the elementary grades were being let out to play, including fourth graders, where Kurt was at. Ram always hated being a grade above Kurt. Always separated.

Kurt ran right up to Ram once he saw the older boy exit the building. Kurt had the biggest smile on his face as he tackled Ram. The two fell and wrestled for a moment.

“So, do you wanna pass a football today or play tag?” Ram asked, eager to get moving. Kurt, however, looked around and made sure no teacher or student was looking. His eyes looked back up to Ram’s.

“Wait, first I gotta give you something. It’s important, Ram!” He grabbed the older boy’s hand and started dragging him to an isolated part of the park. He crouched and crawled under a metal slab, behind the infrastructure holding a slide up. Kurt took a moment to try and hear if anyone was around. He beckoned Ram to join him and once the other one sat across from him cross-legged he began.

By punching him.

“Ow!” Cried Ram, “What was that for?”

Kurt looked a mix of angry and hurt.

“For being older than me.” At that, Ram’s face softened.


“I know this is the last time we go to school together so I made you this.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. Ram blinked and carefully opened it up, reading the message.

It was a doodle in crayon of two people holding hands with a football near them.

‘You are my bestest friend in the whole world ever and even though you are leaving me I will always come and visit you and make sure to bring you snacks because you’re always hungry.’

Ram looked up from the note and realized just how hard it was on Kurt that he was leaving. Ram thought only he would hate it and miss Kurt. He saw the younger boy wipe a hand at his eye.

“You have to promise you keep that,” Kurt said. “You keep that and tell everyone in middle school you already have a best friend” He warned a bit more defensively. Ram smiled and decided to tell Kurt the good news now instead of surprising him. He gently folded the note back up and put it in his own pocket.

“Kurt, I’m not going to sixth grade,” Ram admitted. Kurt’s eyes widened as his mouth went slack.


“I’m failing fifth grade.” He told him, expecting the other one to jump into his arms in joy.

Instead Kurt burst into tears.

“You’re gonna fai-ail!?” Kurt choked around his heavily pouring tears. Man, this kid is like a waterpark. Ram jerked his body in surprise. He’s…sad?

“No, it’s a good thing.” He tried to explain, Kurt swatting at him.

“It’s not a good thing! You can’t come ba-ck to school!” He shouted around his crying. He’s never been angrier.

“You-your dad’s gonna ki-kill y-you!” He hiccuped. “I’ll never see you aga-ain!”

Ram put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders. “No, Kurt, it’s okay! I’ll be okay!” He was trying to convince himself of that just as much as he was trying to convince Kurt. He was in no way prepared for that conversation much less the punishment.

Kurt was shaking his head now, hot tears pouring down his face. He didn’t believe Ram for one second. He’s seen both their dads mad. It was never a good time.

“No, we have to run away,” Kurt rubbed a fist at his eyes. “School’s stupid anyway…”

Ram opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a far-away voice.

“Ram Sweeney! You’re Father’s here to pick you up! Ram!” His teacher yelled. Ram’s heart sank as both of their heads swiveled to where she was starting to walk around to find him. Ram knew this day would come, he just didn’t think it would be today.

Kurt’s eyes let a few more tears escape. This is the last time he would ever see his best friend besides his funeral. Ram turned back to the raven-haired boy and grabbed both of his shoulder’s.

“Listen, I’m gonna be held back. I did it on purpose.” Ram clarified. Maybe Kurt was just sad that it might hurt Ram to be failing. 

“Why would you do that, dude?” Kurt screamed. Boy, Ram didn’t know which form of chastising is worse, his dad or Kurt. Ram sighed and wiped Kurt’s tears away. He needs to get Kurt to understand before he leaves else the poor kid will be in shambles for a week.

“Ram Sweeney, your father is waiting for you!” The voice now held agitation as her form strutted closer to where they were hiding.

Ram was running out of time. Minutes passed of his dad waiting for him probably made the situation worse.

“I did it for you, Kurt.” He confessed. Kurt’s breathing stopped. “I failed tests and homework so I would be held back. I didn’t want to go to middle school without you. I don’t wanna go to highschool without you. I don’t wanna do anything without you.”

Kurt put his hand on Ram’s where it was on his cheek.

“I don’t wanna do anything without you, either…”

“Ram Sweeney, this is the last time, young man!”

The boy being yelled at swallowed the lump in his throat and looked in his best friends eyes.

“I gotta go, bro.” He said. Kurt shook his head like he was going off to war. Ram went to get up. He felt the smaller boy tug on his arm.


“What Kurt,” He said as he turned. He felt a pair of lips on his cheek and he immediately blushed. Kurt pulled away with a red face as well. They stayed in their positions for a moment as the world seemed to stop. 


“Promise to come see me when I’m grounded?” Ram asked. Kurt nodded like it was the most important mission given to anyone. And it was.

“Promise I see you again?” He asked, the fear of Bill Sweeney planting a seed in his mind. Ram nodded as Kurt let go of his arm.

Kurt watched Ram run up to the teacher. She led him back in the building. The now alone boy slid to sit back down in the mulch. He touched his fingers to his lips and smiled.

Ram walked to his inevitable doom, gently grazing his cheek and suppressing his grin.


“What’s that, dude?” Kurt asked as he returned from the kitchen with two beers and a bag of chips. Ram invited Kurt over to watch a game as they’re dads went to a car show.

Ram looked up from the note he was holding. He carefully folded it back and slid it into his pocket where it always was, always has been for years.

“Oh nothing,” He dismissed it as he accepted the offered brewski and the opened bag of doritos.

“Man, I’m always visiting you and bringing you snacks, dude,” Kurt commented offhandedly, plopping himself down on the couch beside his best friend. Ram smiled as he took a sip.


Imagine #12 Charles Xavier - Part 2 (Request)

Requested by Anon: Hi friend! I just had a pretty cool idea for a request! Okay so, the reader was on a mission right? They got hurt and blacked out. So when they wake up at the school, they don’t remember anything about the school/their past.With young Charles please

Originally posted by imagine-that-marvel

Not my gif

Words: 2117

Warnings: typos

A/N: So, this is part 2 and I’m still not completely sure, where I’m going with this lol. @castielandcomics asked to be tagged, let me know, if you want to as well. Oh, and also a thousand thank-yous for 400 followers oh my gOD! 

Part 1

Everyone was doing their best to make the situation as comfortable as possible for you, you could tell. And you felt really guilty about it. All these people knew who you were, told you about how you had spent the past few years with them, showed you all the things you loved about Xavier’s – or had loved – and you still didn’t feel a thing, you didn’t remember any of it. It was incredibly discouraging. Hank, the friendly scientist, who, as it turned out, was one of your close friends, said that your memory loss might just be temporarily and that, in time and with the right stimulation, you might find back to the person you had been before your injury.

“So, you didn’t get the major then? Last week?”, you addressed Jean one afternoon after class. You were sitting beneath one of the big oak trees in the schoolyard and Jean tried to explain to you what had happened on the mission that happened to be the most recent missing piece of information in your head. “No.”, she replied. “No, the professor called us back right after you blacked out. He didn’t exactly leave room for discussion.” You could tell by Jean’s voice that she didn’t at all agree with the way Professor Xavier had handled the situation, which was odd considering that she seemed to be his greatest admirer.

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FIC: Nodus Tollens

Title: Nodus Tollens

Characters: Dani Sanchez, Elliot Gilbert (friends), Levi Corbin (Yeah You Will Guy), Cassandra July, Maggie Banks, Isabelle Wright, etc.

Summary:  After an afternoon standing in the rain waiting for his so-called friends, Kurt realizes that his life doesn’t make sense anymore. Not the way he thought it did. He embarks on his junior year with an onslaught of opportunities, and 

This is for @vcg73 honestly. I promised it to her a year ago, wrote two chapters, and then had a lot of drama. So I’m posting this in hopes of forcing myself to outline it and write at least a solid short story of it. 


The rain came down in thick, forceful sheets. Like a wall on each side of the large, black umbrella, a force field cutting Kurt off from those who hurried by. After a moment or two (during which he’d been bumped into, thrice, proving that the force field wasn’t worth much), Kurt stepped off to the side of the sidewalk to let the other New Yorkers pass. He’d only stepped back to begin with because he’d gotten splashed by a taxi zipping by.

He was wet, and he was cold. His jaw was beginning to feel loose in his head, as though if he didn’t keep it tightly clenched, it would fly on its own, chattering madly. It was cold for the season. A sudden dip in the weather, although not enough to produce ice. Funnily enough, the sun had been out, for a time, when Kurt had strolled up. Gradually, though, the sun had hidden itself away, leaving only black skies, cold winds, and a torrent of seemingly endless rain.

For the first few minutes, Kurt had wondered if he were late, or early, or if the others had come to this spot in Kurt’s old neighborhood and immediately gone inside somewhere. His texts went unanswered, however. If they had gone off together, they had said nothing. Kurt suspected, though, that not one of them—Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Blaine, Sam, Artie, or even Mercedes or Tina—ever had any plan of showing up here today.

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Kadam Week Prompt Five: Our First Noel

Kurt and Adam either meet or reunite while participating in a volunteer event.

In this fic, Kurt decides to spend Christmas Eve working in a LGBT youth shelter. Burt comes along to help (no Blaine all up here in this bitch) and Kurt meets a kind young man whom found his NYADA audition “Breathtaking.” ^_^

There are a few more switcheroos in this fic: Burt doesn’t tell Kurt about his cancer until the day after Christmas. Kurt’s going to be seriously upset (and not happy that Burt didn’t tell him immediately; I think I would be too) but I’ll say that Burt wanted Kurt to not have to worry about it over Christmas (and the kid DOES worry.)

Plus, on a more selfish note, I have to keep this fic fairly short if I want to finish the week’s challenge, and if Adam and Kurt wanted to talk shop about cancer, this story would be considerably longer.  

Please enjoy!


Kurt never believed he would credit Sue Sylvester with having a good idea (let alone a philanthropic one) but her enlisting the Glee club to volunteer at a homeless shelter last Christmas Eve had been a surprisingly sweet initiative on her part. That had lasted all of one day, but he thought it would be a good annual tradition to adopt.

When he thought he would be spending Christmas alone this year, Kurt had signed himself up to work at a halfway center known as the “Rainbow Connection,” a center which provided aid to displaced LGBT youth in New York City.

But Burt had shown up at the door with a tree, very nearly inducing a heart attack of Kurt’s own. After the tree had been put up and they’d waved Rachel off for her cruise, Burt had volunteered to come along with Kurt to the shelter. The man had signed up considerably late, but none of the staff minded.

“We really need all the help we can get,” said the curly-haired man whom shook both their hands at the check-in desk. He was wearing a Santa cap. “We won’t be turning away anyone today, that or any other day.”

Kurt looked around the center’s reception room. It was a weathered place, bearing scratch marks on walls with chipped and faded paint. Old pipes gurgled from the ceiling, and the carpet was frayed and water-stained. He might’ve been imagining things, but judging by its slightly lopsided halls the place seemed to be actively sinking into the earth. Burt looked around too, brow furrowing.

“If I have anythin’ to say in Washington about any gay kid shelter—and damned well I do—I’m not gonna stand for Ohio’s shelters getting this beat up.”

Kurt thought the building was in desperate need of a facelift, but the staff had tried cheering the place with an explosion of color: There were LGBT flags and safe space stickers everywhere you looked, a burst of silver and blue paper chains surrounding a battered menorah on a crooked table, and a kenora surrounded by red and gold tinsel not far away. Christmas lights were wrapped around the battered old pipes, and down the halls were intermittent little Charlie Brown trees the staff had likely picked from the remains of Christmas tree lots. They’d been loved into life with handmade decorations, photos of staff members and shelter comers. Kurt’s heart ached and his throat tightened as he looked at them, looked at the resource posters for food, foster care, financial aid, and STD prevention and care.

“I’m glad this place exists.”

“Me too,” said Burt heavily. “But I’m real sorry that it has to.”

“We got a whole lot of people coming in tonight and tomorrow,” said the shelter attendant, and they turned to face him again. “The weather tonight is supposed to set a new record for the coldest Christmas NYC’s seen in eleven years.”

Kurt felt a hot wave of guilt. His dad had flown so far to see him, had saved him from being one of the displaced teens coming in for a respite from the cold, to the only Christmas they were likely to get. He stepped closer to his father, and Burt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.

“Now to find jobs for you both. Can either of you cook?”

Burt muttered a “Not really,” while Kurt nodded. “A little.”

“’A little’ meaning my kid cooks better than anyone I ever met. Uh, don’t tell Carol I said that.”

The man sighed, looking profoundly relieved. “Right then. Kurt, if I could just have you take a right down the hall to the kitchen, they’ll put you to work. Mr. Hummel, if you’ll just come with me, please…”

Kurt reluctantly waved goodbye to his father, headed into the kitchen area, where he was pleased to find lots of people already at work, bustling over trays of turkey, foil casserole dishes of potatoes and cranberry sauce.

The man in charge eagerly put Kurt to work on the Christmas cookies. As Kurt picked up an icing bag, for one sliver in time, his mother’s hands were wrapped around his much smaller ones, guiding his decorating for Santa’s cookies.

He blinked, and got to work carefully decorating snowflake shaped cookies, making silvery curly-ques atop light-blue icing, dotting them with glittery sugar and chocolate chips. He knew he was being silly; people would be more interested in eating the cookies then looking at them, but he didn’t want the dessert to seem perfunctory. He’d yelled at his bemused father for trying to stick a plate of oreos in front of the fireplace when that just wasn’t the same.

He made rainbow cookies with gender symbols atop them, cookies in the shape of an ace with black, blue and purple frosting, glittery blue, pink and white striped stars to represent the transgender flag. Perhaps he went a bit too far by making little gingerbread men in frosting tuxedos holding hands with each other, but he could not resist. Soon he made little gingerbread women with icing skirts doing the same, followed by large heart cookies. Feeling sheepish, Kurt nonetheless got to work writing on the hearts, wondering if they seemed too much like Valentine’s-conversation candy.

“These are all lovely.”

Starting, Kurt whirled around, nearly knocking the young man beside him in the ribs with his elbow—there really were too many cooks in the kitchen. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. And thank you.”

The young man smiled. He was a tall bean pole, with dark blond hair tousled beneath his beanie, with light-blue eyes and a small cleft in his chin. Kurt felt the bottom briefly drop out of his stomach. “It’s quite alright. I’m sorry; there isn’t too much space here.” He had a British accent.

He took a careful step back, still smiling down at Kurt’s cookies, expression soft. “Oh, these are wonderful. You make pastries as well as you sing, Kurt. People will be fighting over them.”

Kurt’s face was suddenly as flaming as his cookies and he looked away, smiling broadly.

“I hope not. And thank you again, ah—“ His eyes widened in surprise as he realized that while the stranger knew his name, Kurt didn’t know his. And certainly he wouldn’t forget a face like this one.

It was the stranger’s turn to flush. “I’m sorry; I’m a fan, not a stalker.” He frowned. “Stalkers aren’t allowed to say that, are they? Ah, well. Adam Crawford.” He extended a floury hand, and Kurt took it with a bemused smile. “I forget you’re not a NYADA student just yet.”

“How did you know I got in?” Kurt asked wonderingly.

“I heard your performance at the Winter showcase.” Adam smiled again, eyes warm and bright. “If Madame T didn’t let you in after that, I can only conclude she’d need to be shut in an asylum.”

Kurt laughed aloud at that, surprising himself. “Well, thank you. I think Rachel was the showstopper though.”

“Rachel Berry?” asked Adam, brow creasing. “She was fine. But the way you sang…” Adam shook his head in stunned amazement. “It was positively…breathtaking.”

Kurt colored a little more, knowing he ought to get back to the cookies and yet rooted to the spot. “Thank you.”

“Fair warning,” said Adam, moving to check the bubbling pot he’d been working over. He scooped out a ladleful and after blowing on it for some time took a tentative sip. “The moment you finished singing the Apples gathered outside to discuss potential tactics on how to recruit you. I likely would’ve discovered where you lived and shown up on your doorstep with my homemade apple pie. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Wait, what? The Apples? And recruit me for what, being gay?”

“Of course you can’t recruit people into being gay. You can only become gay by sitting too close to the telly,” Adam said seriously. Then his face fell and both he and Kurt burst out giggling. Adam wiped his eyes.

“The Adam’s Apples are the show choir group I founded.” Kurt’s eyes lit up at once. “I thought you were remarkable, but to be honest, I didn’t have much hope, considering how good you are and we’re…” Adam shrugged helplessly. “Well, show choir. Even amongst misfit artists, show choir members are treated anathema at NYADA.”

“That’s okay. I was part of my high school glee club, and even nerds threw rocks at us from cars. But pie and show choir both sound excellent to me.”

Adam opened the oven and Kurt got a hot waft of decadent cinnamon and melting brown sugar, along with the gentle smell of apples. “Come to the dark side, Kurt. We have pie.”

“As long as it’s not koolaid.”

“And try a bit of this,” Adam offered, fetching another saucer and offering Kurt a small scoop of soup. Throwing Adam a dubious look, Kurt blew on it and tried, eyes closing.

“Oh dear God, that chicken and dumpling is divine.” He laughed and shook his head. “Did you follow me here so that you could win me over to your show choir with food?”

It was stupid, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Adam maybe cooked this way for someone else.

“Is it working?” Adam asked innocently, chuckling when Kurt nudged him playfully. “No, dear. I come here often. I only just so happened to recognize you.”  

“Are you…are you a volunteer as well?”

“Yes,” said Adam, stirring the pot and adding pepper. “School and the Apples keep me busy and I can’t come as often as I like, but I like to volunteer as a day camp counselor here. The facility works with the state to find lgbt-friendly foster homes for minors, but lots of them like to come here and participate in therapy or art classes.”

“Are you…” He ought not to ask, not to ask— “Are you here with your family tonight?”

Adam smiled and shook his head. “No, they’re back across the pond in Wessex, but no one minded a bit when I came out, not even my gran. I’m afraid I’m saving my money in the kipper for a longer vacation opportunity in the summer, so I won’t be with them this year.” He exhaled, and looked at the window, beckoning Kurt over with a finger.


The sight knocked the heart out of him; there was already an enormous line of people outside the shelter. Attendants were trying to shepherd people inside, but the line wrapped around the block. People were huddling together, all the while the wind was whistling and the world was being pillowed with snow. Kurt blinked again and prayed Adam didn’t notice him dab at his eye.

“Here I’m reminded it could be worse,” the taller boy said quietly, going back to his cutting board to slice potatoes. Kurt turned back to the cookies, tracing words on the desserts as quickly as he could. “I feel guilty.”


“I…my dad struggled with my coming out, it was so different than everything he ever was, and yet he took me exactly as I am, unconditionally.” Kurt palmed his eye. “I was so afraid when I told him that I’d…well, my friend Mercedes offered to let me stay at her place, if…”

Adam looked over at him, expression serious. “You shouldn’t have had to worry about that at all, Kurt.” Adam pronounced his name Kuht, and Kurt liked how it sounded. “No one deserves to be thrown out of their home for something they simply cannot help. While I’m very happy your dad is supportive, I wish that support were simply expected, rather than being an instance of sheer luck.”

Kurt smiled sadly. “My dad said something along the same lines.”

Suddenly he got an idea, and seized a package of paper cups and ripped off the plastic. Kurt grabbed a tray from a shelf beneath him, and after setting the cups upon it started filling them all from an enormous dispenser with cocoa. Adam watched curiously as Kurt feverishly sprinkled cinnamon in them all, grabbed his coat off the hook and started buttoning. “What are you…” He looked outside and his eyes widened with understanding. “Oh…”  

“I know I probably can’t give one to everyone in time,” Kurt said breathlessly, bustling for the emergency exit. “But I have to at least try.”

Stunned, Adam watched as Kurt headed out, the wind buffeting him as he did so. A second later Adam turned the burner and oven off, and started stacking a tray of his own, curiously sampling a hot cocoa with cinnamon. He closed his eyes. God, but that was delicious.  

He hurried out afterwards, the chill knifing into his bones, making him seize up. He’d been in such a rush to follow Kurt that he’d forgotten his coat. Kurt was already making a beeline for the line, his face flushed pink. Adam watched it for a stupidly long moment, then jolted and followed suit.  

By now the line was moving and more people had made their way inside, but no one rejected the cocoa, some sipping cautiously while others simply moved their faces over the steam, wrapping icy fingers around the hot cups.

Soon after the boys rushed in again, and again, and on the sixth time Kurt thought at least he was getting some exercise this Christmas. He and Adam kept bumping into each other as they served chocolate, and Kurt couldn’t help but huddle closer to the other boy—it really was bitterly cold out.

By the time they’d served cocoa to the last person heading inside they staggered back into the kitchen, exhausted, very flushed, very cold and cracking up. “Dear God, your hands,” Adam exclaimed, taking Kurt’s flushed hands in his own.

“Hello, pot. I’m kettle. You’re pink,” pointed out Kurt, and started giggling when Adam swatted at him affectionately.

Soon the food was moved to the counter, where the line was already waiting. He looked over at Adam. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Oh, I’ll…enjoy some movies and soup in bed. Catch up on my reading.”

Kurt said nothing to that for a few moments. Hours ago he’d expected a quiet day himself, had been able to excuse his not-returning to Lima on lack of funds (and a desire to avoid his ex.) But after Burt had appeared, the idea now seemed inexplicably lonely.

“Well, you’re sitting with us at the volunteer’s table tonight.” Kurt said crisply, voice leaving no room for argument. “Those are my terms if you want me to join the apples. Take it or leave it.”

Adam looked bemused, then amazed, and then laughed gleefully.

“You drive a hard bargain, sir. I’ll take it.”


Later that night, Adam would pass a cookie to Kurt that he’d made himself. It simply read, You’re Adorable.

And Kurt would stutter and look away, and Burt would lift a brow and throw an inscrutable look at his son, whom was glugging down cocoa to avoid answering. Burt’s uncertain expression would thaw (albeit begrudgingly) as Adam described his work as a counselor in the youth programs at the youth center, and his ragtag showchoir at NYADA, and how Kurt sounded like a silver bell at the winter showcase. (If Kurt hadn’t been red before, he was scarlet then.)

And Burt would invite Adam to take the Rockettes ticket he’d bought for Rachel before he knew she was leaving town. And Adam would stammer that no, he really couldn’t and Burt Hummel said calmly that he damn well could, and would because the tickets were non-refundable and ‘my kid just lit up like the star of Bethlehem, so will you not ruin my kid’s Christmas?’ And Adam was speechless, though he was already understanding that a wise man does not argue with Burt Hummel.

And Kurt would squeeze his hand underneath the table, and offer Adam the opportunity to come back home with them afterwards and eat too much food while they watched basketball (while his father did, anyway) and that sounded perfect, so of course Adam said yes. And of course Kurt would smile, eyes shining.

That would be their first Christmas together. It wasn’t their last.