Prompt(s): “I got so excited when I saw you wanted to write something for nightcrawler, he’s my favourite :3 I’m a vet nurse and would love something with kurt :D like he hurts his tail or Hank’s not sure how to give him a check up and they call the reader who’s a vet nurse lmao.” and “something sweet with Kurt’s tail”
Note: Okay, I took a little freedom here. The reader is a vet nurse, but she’s a mutant too, if that’s okay. Also, I don’t know medical terminology, so???
“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” Kurt moaned in pain. His latest mission hadn’t gone so well and he had ended up hurting his tail. Hank, being a scientist and all, tried to help him out, but the truth was, he just didn’t know that much about tails. He wasn’t a vet. He didn’t really know how to help…but perhaps he knew someone that did.
“Stay here, Kurt. I think I know someone that can help.” Hank told him, helping Kurt into his bed. Kurt nodded, tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he hoped that someone would.
Hank walked down the stairs, out into the courtyard. You were sitting by the fountain, a few birds perched beside you. Your mutation allowed you to talk to animals, and because of it, you were studying to become a veterinarian.
“(Y/N), I need your help,” Hank said. You glanced up and noticed his worried expression.
“What’s the matter?” You asked.
“It’s Kurt. He hurt his tail,” Hank said. You shut your book and followed him back into the house, up the stairs, and into Kurt’s room, where the little blue teleporter was lying in bed. You stepped closer.
“Kurt, what’s wrong? What hurts?” You asked gently, sitting beside him on the bed. He was laying on his side, trying not to put pressure on his tail. Usually it would swish back and forth on its own, but now it was just laying there.
“All of it,” Kurt replied through his teeth. You looked at him with pity before taking a closer look at his injured limb. “I don’t know vhat happened. There vas a pop, and zhen…”
“I think you dislocated it is all,” you told him reassuringly. “Not a tough fix. Hank, get some ice packs.”
“On it,” Hank said, saluting before he left the room.
“Okay, I need you to bear with me, okay?” You asked. He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. You knelt in front of him and used both hands to grip the base of his tail. Then, in a strong, quick motion, you popped it back into place.
“AAH!” he yelped in pain before sighing in relief and breathing heavily.
“It’s gonna be sore for a little while, okay?” You told him, brushing your fingers through his hair. Hank ran up the stairs and handed you the ice packs. “Here, sit on these,”
“Z-zhank you,” he said gratefully, shaking.
“No problem,” You looked over his tail, watching it move as it normally did.
“I guess it’s good to have a vet in the house, huh?” Hank laughed, shaking his head. Kurt smiled warmly.
Summary: After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.
sooooo it is sweet miranda’s birthday today (yay!) and i thought WHAT A PERFECT EXCUSE TO WRITE FIC bc i haven’t posted any in ages so this is for you miranda
Kurt flops down onto the ratty bench below the bleachers with an extended sigh. It has been a long day. And it’s only eleven thirty in the morning.
He ignores Quinn’s offer of a cigarette and extracts a pack of gum from the pocket of his tight jeans. He doesn’t mind the taste or smell of smoke, but even as a skank, he’s allowed to be concerned about his lung health.
“Puck got sent to juvie again,” she mutters, blowing out a stream of smoke up into the cloudy sky. “Fucking idiot, always messing shit up.”
Kurt nods, not wanting to say anything that could upset Quinn about the delicate balance of her relationship with Noah Puckerman. Instead he goes with something somewhat more neutral. “What did he do this time?”
She sighs and flicks her cigarette off over the arm of the couch. “He and Anderson stole Figgins’ car and drove it into the mall. Crashed right into the front of J Crew, fucked up all the window displays.”
I was rewatching Sexy. And while Animal and the ‘sexy faces practice’ scenes left me wanting to punch Blaine in the face on Kurt’s behalf all the more, it’s the Blaine confronting Burt scene that stood out the most this time… and what it says about Blaine’s daddy issues.
The usual focus has been on “You think my dad rebuilt a car with me because he loves cars? I think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight.” However, I think the more significant line, that better informs the above, is earlier in the scene with “It was one of his many attempts at bonding with me.”
It also illustrates further the sense that Blaine is so out of touch with people outside himself and the experiences of other gay kids, or even adults. But it does add more support to 'Blaine, Prince of Dalton’:
He has a father who regardless of motives, is still attempting to bond with him. If all those bonding attempts were in pursuit of 'ungaying’ him, wouldn’t Blaine be far more certain of his father’s motives with the car? Wouldn’t all those other instances of 'straightifying’ bonding be part of his statement about his father’s intentions, their relationship, in relation to Burt’s with Kurt? Yet it’s just the car and he suspects it to be the case, but has no certainty.
He says “MANY attempts” which implies a concerted effort being put forth by his father towards him. They probably weren’t too successful, given “attempts” and his overall perception of his dad and their relationship, but just making those attempts implies his father does love him and wants them to be closer in some way. That maybe he does want to understand Blaine.
Based off this picture, because it is so effing cute. ~900 words, PG with a little cursing.
Much to his surprise, Blaine really enjoyed hitting the gym with Kurt every couple of days. He suspected that part of his enjoyment came from being able to watch Kurt’s muscles stretch in various enticing ways as he went through his workout, but Blaine also did like how fulfilled and strong he felt after a good session. He may never lose the little pooch of belly he had, but he could tell he was in the best shape of his life regardless, so he wasn’t concerned.
(It helped that Kurt had drunkenly admitted to him once that he loved how comfy Blaine’s belly was as a pillow, if he was being entirely honest.)
Whatever the reasoning behind it was, Blaine was still riding an endorphin high as he and Kurt finished up their workouts one afternoon. He had been focusing more on core work and stretching that day, while Kurt had been doing some killer arm and leg routine he’d found online that apparently worked miracles, for reasons unknown to Blaine. Once he’d finished his cool-off crunches, Blaine headed off to the locker room, knowing Kurt wouldn’t be far behind.
“Hey, baby,” Blaine said cheerfully as he stepped out of the shower. “You able to break a concrete block with your hand yet?”
Kurt just groaned from his place on the bench, halfway between his gym clothes and his street clothes. “I think I’m broken.”
“Saying that something doesn’t matter doesn’t make it true.”
(After the emotional fustercluck that was skank!Kurt and Cheerio!Blaine’s Monday morning, the boys try to get themselves together. Unfortunately, in order to move forward, sometimes you have to go back.)
“I’m surprised you don’t mind this,” Kurt says, taking care to exhale his smoke away from Blaine’s face.
“You don’t care that I always taste like stale coffee and burnt espresso.”
“That’s not the same thing. And there’s no such thing as second-hand… I don’t know, second-hand coffee breath.”
They’re lying together on the Skanks’ ratty sofa, skipping class yet again as they attempt to come down from the day’s drama. Kurt is still uneasy; they haven’t addressed what they’re going to do about their relationship in a public sense, and though Blaine insists he doesn’t want to hide, Kurt is all too aware that what people desire and what people actually do about their desires can take separate paths entirely. At the moment, though, lying on his back with Blaine snuggled halfway on top of him and resting his forehead against Kurt’s temple while Kurt smokes, it’s tempting to pretend the issue doesn’t exist.