gamsee:

hey bro *fist bumps you* hey bro *pats your shoulder* hey bro *kicks you* hey bro *sucks your dick* hey bro

(via butterscotchcreys)

dahlstrom:

i can just picture it -

puck stalking into the holding room at the wedding, looking like he’s ready to fuck some people up, and he says to blaine “dude there’s some guy with huge eyebrows and a little asian lady here who say they’re your parents.  want me to throw ‘em out?”

and blaine laughs and is like “wtf no puck, they’re my PARENTS” and he gets up and starts walking toward the door, but puck stops him and looks at him dead serious and goes, 

“stop fucking around.  you don’t HAVE parents.  you and your brother were raised by wolves.”  and he looks around at everybody else for confirmation and they’re all nodding, even kurt.

but blaine just laughs again and tells puck he’s being dumb and strides out of the room, and puck’s like “….whoa” and stares at kurt and is like “did you KNOW?” and kurt’s just shaking his head, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked.

Title: This Heart Is Burning Up
Author: Devonwood
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some tie-pulling and semi-public sex w/o voyeurism. Brief allusions to infidelity.
Spoilers: Through episode 4x14
Word Count: ~5,700
Summary: It’s no accident that they were together at Christmas, and again on Valentine’s Day.
Author’s Note: Title is from “Tightrope” by Walk the Moon. Easy now, with my heart. You walk a tightrope. Huge thanks to Lucie for some initial cheerleading, and Star for kicking me in the rump when I needed it.

Christmas

His dad is in the bed ten feet away and his ex-boyfriend is sleeping on the couch, and it should be weird except that it’s not. Last Christmas, Kurt would have said Blaine was part of the family, little and mismatched and perfect as it was, and perhaps it’s the lingering essence of the holiday season and the closeness of loved ones (because he meant what he said at Thanksgiving—he still loves Blaine, even when he doesn’t really want to) that make this inherently awkward situation entirely not-awkward.

Blaine shifts on the couch for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, causing the springs to squeak and rattle like a cat with a stepped-on tail. Kurt had made the couch as comfortable as he could with the extra pillows from both his and Rachel’s beds, and a blue blanket with a satin lining that’s deceptively scratchy, but he knows from experience falling asleep there during movie marathons with Rachel that the couch is good for nothing but a crick in the neck. That’s why, he reasons with himself, he slips out of bed and softly pads into the living room—just in case Blaine is tossing and turning while asleep instead of awake.

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slightestwind:

Anonymous asked: would it be too much of me to ask you to write something where blaine is like a kindergarten or first grade teacher and kurt interrupts class one day because blaine forgot his lunch at home *u*

“And this,” Blaine says, helping Jessica scrub her hands over the sink in the back of the classroom, “is why we don’t start finger-painting until it’s actually finger-paint time, Jess.”

Jessica sighs for the third time, sounding as long-suffering as a six-year-old can. “Sorry, Mr. B.” Blaine reaches over to scrub at a spot on her elbow, not even bothering to ask how she got paint that high up her arm. He learned a long time ago that paint gets everywhere - it’s kind of a hazard of the job. He already has a little smudged blue fingerprint on his sleeve from washing Jessica’s hands.

Blaine grins to himself, because he can already picture the way Kurt’s going to grumble at him as soon as he gets home. He’ll never forget the horrified look on Kurt’s face the first time he came home absolutely covered in tiny paint handprints. Kurt had spent hours scrubbing Blaine’s expensive white button down, swearing he’d never do it again, but it’s become almost routine for them now.

Besides, it usually involves Kurt stripping Blaine’s clothes off, and Blaine’s pretty sure neither of them are complaining about that.

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