Kurt really doesn’t want to take Introduction to English, but it covers one of his general eds and knocks out a writing requirement. It’s also apparently a really hard class to get into, and he almost feels bad about taking the spot away from an honest-to-god English major. Almost.
He’s normally one of those people that sits right in front, but it’s the first day and he has absolutely no idea what to expect. The professor had seemed nice enough in his introduction email—the same threats about showing up for classes the first week or getting dropped, making sure you bring the reading materials to class, and then some personal things about coffee and oldies music—but he could very well be one of those evil ones that likes to put students on the spot on the first day.
Kurt really, really hopes there isn’t some sort of cripplingly humiliating ice breaker.
He moves to snag a center seat in the lecture hall (halfway down—not close enough that he’ll be question fodder, but not far enough away that it seems like he doesn’t care), early enough that there aren’t that many people and Kurt really has his pick.
That’s when Kurt sees him; he’s smack dab in the center of the room, bent over a book so that he looks like a mass of dark curls in a charcoal grey cardigan scrunched up to his elbows. Kurt figures he’s either a hipster or possibly homeless; it’s really hard to tell sometimes. He almost passes the row by completely when Mr. Hipster lifts his arms in a stretch—hello arms—and Kurt can catch a decent view of his face. Ridiculous glasses and a beard, but the beard is covering a rather remarkable jawline and—well, Kurt’s never really been a facial hair kind of person, but there’s a first for everything, right?
A 4.14 episode reaction fic, in which the New Directions argue about who is going to go tell Kurt and Blaine it’s time to stop making out and get out of the car.
1100+ words (R)
Thanks to Mimsy for the quick read-through.
“Come on. You know the drill,” Artie says waving everyone over.
“Let’s do Rock Paper Scissors Zombie!”
“Sam, no. It’s stupid. Zombies always win, and you always say ‘zombie,’ which means you always get out of it,” Tina replies.
“Did anyone grab straws?” Arties asked. He’s beyond annoyed: They have exactly 12 minutes until Mr. Schue shows up—barely enough time to break it up, let alone make them presentable again. No matter what, he is not giving up his last package of Shout pocket wipes for those assholes. Or his pants. Never. Again.
“I have some in my bra,” Brittany announces, one hand already down the front of her dress.
Rachel gasps. “In your—Brittany, what are you—?”
“Who cares what she’s got down there, or why? Everyone just grab a straw and let’s get this over with,” Mercedes grumbles. She knows she’s probably going to get the short straw. She almost always gets the short straw. She’d rather try her luck at Show Choir Trivia than pick a G.D. straw. Even when she practices at home, she seems to find the shorty on the very first try.
Artie snips the straws with the tiny scissors on his key chain, wraps a napkin around the base, and presents the cut pieces like a bouquet.
When Puck reaches for a straw, Rachel slaps his hand away. “You are on lifetime suspension.”
“Bullshit,” he argues.
Anon prompted: could you write crisscolfer fic based on this please? it’s just sooo cute *-*
With all the pictures that are floating around, this was so not the one I expected to see but thank you anon, I love the idea and will do my best!!
Shit shit shit was Darren’s first thought when he woke up in the morning. Not that this hadn’t happened before, he’d have to (shamefully) admit. No, he had woken up next to strange people more than once in his life.
But usually, he at least remembered the stranger’s name.
Darren recalled nearly every detail of the conversation he had had with the boy next to him. Hell, he even knew that his sister’s name was Hannah. So how was this possible, how did Darren have absolutely no idea what this guy’s name was?
Sherlock had been awake for at least an hour, frozen on the spot in John’s arms, until he dared extract himself from the mess of their tangled limbs and sneak into the safety of the kitchen. Well, safety… at least he could pretend everything was perfectly normal.
Right. Wasn’t it easy to forget the fact that you’d just been about to kill yourself because your archenemy had broken you beyond repair, that your flatmate thought the best cure was to lap dance for you until you were making out on a chair and that you spent the night together on the couch? Sherlock groaned, rubbing his temples.
Several courses of action crossed his mind. Get into the shower. That one didn’t sound bad, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to get up from his chair and wash. It would be necessary at some point, and he knew it. Yet, he was repelled by the thought of having to touch his own body, even if it was just to wash it, after it had been touched by so many people in one day (and by too many people, he meant by people at all). He shivered and swallowed with some difficulty. What in the world had he got himself into? He was so confused, and had no idea whatsoever of what was expected of him now. John had effectively saved his life, but what was it worth?
John had known exactly what to do to bring him back, and it still amazed Sherlock. Of course, they lived together, so he was bound to know a few things about him and his way of thinking or what he held important in everyday life, but to be able to undo Moriarty’s breaking… No, he corrected himself, he hasn’t. He’d just broken himself to pieces too and merged their shattered remains together. So what were they now?
[from Dance is Chemistry]
Kurt has an obsession with Blaine’s fingers.
“God they’re so long.” Kurt murmurs, staring at Blaine’s hand and gently touching his fingers.
They’re lying under the covers in Blaine’s bed, leaning against each other, Kurt’s head on Blaine’s chest. It’s hard to believe that only 15 minutes ago they were sharing their first time.
“Thank you?” Blaine says with a laugh, allowing Kurt to flip his hand over and stare at the underside of his long fingers.
“Sorry. It’s just… fingers are interesting to me.” Kurt replies, trailing his own fingers along Blaine’s lightly. “And you have very nice ones.”
Kurt and Blaine never got together and they slowly drifted apart after Kurt transferred back to WMHS. 4 years later Kurt is working at Vogue.com in New York and Blaine is studying Musical Theatre in London. It starts with emails.
au; the new gym teacher has inappropriate feelings for one of his students and seeks advice from his best friend
“I wouldn’t say old, you’re only twenty five,” Sam reasoned, stabbing the last thumb tack through the page and turning to face him. “I mean, if you look at it, it’s only eight years between you and this kid. That was the same with my parents.”
“Kurt is not a kid, he’s eighteen,” Blaine corrected with a slight edge to his voice. “And it’s seven years, six and a half if you really want to be precise.”
“I’m an art teacher, I can’t do math,” Sam complained, frowning at the floor as he tried to figure out where he went wrong in his calculations. After a moment he shook the thought of numbers from his head. “Whatever, that’s even better then.”
“It’s not better, Sam, Kurt is still a student, my student,” Blaine huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. Of course, closing his eyes meant a torrent of images of Kurt doing lunges, pants sliding up, pulling taut around his thighs, curving perfectly with his tight little ass that Blaine just wanted to bite into. He held back a groan, waving Sam off with quick, “I’ve got forms to fill out in my office, I’ll catch you later,” before all but sprinting to the sports wing and holding his folder in front of his growing hard on.
Title: Dismiss Your Fears
Summary: When Burt dies instead of waking up from his coma, Kurt goes mute. The summer after his junior year, Kurt works in his aunt’s secondhand bookshop, the same place where Blaine applies for a job as live entertainment.
Word count: ~47,800
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Title: Can You Feel the Tension?
Rating: M Pairing: klaine
Summary: All Kurt Hummel wants is someone to be with. But the new rude, abrasive, yet undeniably sext transfer student isn’t exactly what he had in mind.
Chapters: 13 Word Count: 17K+