badass(es) being dapper
I'm Bec (aka Bextiel, hear me roar), a 21 year old Aussie. I don't tag most shit I find funny, anything to do with politics or pro-equality stuff. If I do, it's rare. If you hate something that I post with a common theme, just tell me and I'll tag it for you, mkay pumpkin? Okay. *smooch*. This is not a spoiler free blog. This is also a sex positive blog and I reblog porn of all varieties. Het tends to be rare, though. Hardcore Gleek, Potterhead, Starkid, Sherlockian, Whovian and proud member of the Spnfamily.I ship Klaine so hard it hurts. I also idolise (and occasionally objectify) the fuck out of Darren Criss, Chris Colfer and Dianna Agron. Therefore you will see a hell of a lot of them on here. I regret nothing..My ideal world would have people bursting into spontaneous choreographed songs.If I was a Pokemon, I would be a Pikachu. Come on, don't tell me you don't see it.Flo is possibly the most amazing person in existance.If you're feeling down and need a smile, message me. I've got plenty of love to share - and I want to give you some. I ship Flobex <3
#if homosexual is a one-way street and bisexual is a two-way street #pansexual is one of those ungodly intersections with more than five roads #and asexual is a parking lot
{ Team StarKid }
{ Team StarKid }
{ GLEEK OUT }
{ wear }
{ wear }
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Holiday Fic!Gift: Like the Cat that Got the Canary
Merry Christmas! Here’s a non-Christmas themed fic!gift for the wonderful Bec, who gave me maybe the best prompt ever: Cisgirl!Klaine as some form of Catwoman!Kate[Kurt] and Nightbird!Blair[Blaine].
So here it is, my cisgirl!Klaine superheroes. Unbeta-d, so any mistakes are mine.
Happy Holidays, Bec, and <3 <3
Blair had been on this case for weeks, and she was starting to get frustrated.
Almost every high-end jewelry store and boutique clothing shop in Lima City had been robbed in the last month. Each time Blair had been too late to stop or catch the culprit, arriving just in time to beat the police but faced with an empty shop and a note. Each note was the same: a cartoon of a cat stalking a bird, signed with three X’s. As far as Blair knew, she was the one doing the chasing, so it was disconcerting to feel like she was being played.
Kurt loved being Blaine’s kitten. He always looked after him, always fed him well and gave the best back rubs.
But sometimes, he wished he was more.
There was only so much a little kitten like Kurt could do.
Drabble: Color Coordinated
Summary: Kurt had pink streaks in his hair. That was a fact that existed at McKinley. But Blaine’s favorite color is blue. Skank!Kurt - idea of Kendra’s, obviously :)
Idea came from Marissa saying “oh skank!Kurt in my film class (he has pink hair so she calls him that) doesn’t have pink hair anymore - it’s blue with blond now.” Cue me doing a frowny face and then “Oh! Kurt changed it to that because it’s Blaine’s favorite color.” Then Marissa stared at me until I wrote this drabble on her computer.
“Shit, you have so much blue.” Kurt says as he sits cross-legged on the floor of Blaine’s closet as Blaine holds up a light blue polo shirt against his chest.
“It’s my favorite color,” says Blaine defensively. He’s only been friends with Kurt for about a month now - the boy the rest of Glee club said was unfriendable - and maybe dating for like a week. If making out counted as dating, which to the Skank, Blaine isn’t sure.
He sure hopes so.
“Hmmm,” says Kurt, suddenly kicking his feet out in front of him, his left socked foot coming out to run across Blaine’s ankle. “Think my pink hair clashes?”
Blaine’s skin is already tingling from the soft ghosting of Kurt’s toes. He looks down at him with a wan smile. “I could exclusively wear grey and black like you,” he says.
“But you’re colorful,” says Kurt. “Like, a damn rainbow. Seeing you in greyscale would be boring as shit.”
Blaine isn’t sure why, but the fact that Kurt sort of just said he likes the way Blaine dresses makes his heart leap.
“You’re colorful too, you know,” he says instead, reaching for a bowtie that’s white with blue sailboats on it.
“My hair doesn’t count,” says Kurt in a dry tone.
“Not just your hair,” says Blaine and he knows he shouldn’t get this deep with Kurt. At the beginning of their friendship it had scared the other boy away more than once. Now that they are more than just friends, maybe, even if it’s just friends who make out, Blaine doesn’t want to ruin it.
Kurt is quiet behind him and after a few long moments, he speaks. “Are you done picking out your clothes - I wanna make out.”
So Blaine reaches down to help Kurt up and probably pulls him a little too eagerly to his bed.
- - - -
Game stoppage called on account of Anderson’s little brother climbing the net… again.
“Heyyyy there, buddy. Whatcha doing?” Cooper asked.
“Climbin’ the net! I’m Batman! There are bad guys on the other side!”
“So I see. But I thought you were Robin, squirt?”
“NO. NOW I’M BATMAN.”
“Anderson! Get your kid brother off the field!” his teammate called.
“I’m working on it!” he called back. He turned to his brother, who was reaching the top of the net and its metal frame. “Blaine. It’s time to come down. We’re playing right now.”
Blaine frowned. “I’m playing, too.”
“I can see that. But I don’t want you to get hit in the face with the ball, squirt.”
Blaine sighed and allowed his brother to pick him off the netting and walk him over to a tree. “I brought your coloring books and crayons.”
“I want to play on the swings!” Blaine moaned, looking forlorn. Cooper looked over to the swing set a distance away on the lot.
“Anderson!” A voice belted. “Get back in the game!”
“Coming!” he called. He turned to Blaine. “After, I promise. Just sit tight for a half hour. And then later we can watch Batman and make a Batcave fort out of the couch while mom and dad are gone, and I’ll make mac n’ cheese for us.”
He watched as Blaine’s face lit up like he had somehow gained another birthday.
“Really?!”
“Yeah,” Cooper smiled. “Really.”
“COOP!” his teammate bellowed.
“Be good, Blainers. I’ll be done soon,” he said, and rushed back out to the field.
“He can’t do this during a game, you know,” his friend said, tossing him the ball.
“He won’t. He knows better than that. Blaine knows what’s real and what’s practice.”
“Couldn’t you just leave him home?”
Cooper looked flustered. “Look, there’s not much I could do today. My parents are out of town and they forgot to leave money for a sitter.”
“Don’t your parents know you have practice?” Cooper just shrugged. “Wow. I thought you rich kids got everything.”
“Nope. Well, yes. Everything but parents. We’re delightfully neglected.”
Kurt looked down at his boyfriend fondly. While he was full time at Vogue and had to get up at the crack of dawn, Blaine had just made it to New York and was on summer break for another three weeks until he started at NYU in the fall. Rachel had agreed to let him crash at their flat, giving Kurt a look that said she knew “crashing” would become “moving in” and she was okay with that too -as long as there was no crazy sex while she was around.
Blaine’s back looked smooth and warm in the sunlight, patterned with the cucoloris the blinds were casting across him. Kurt trailed a finger down his spine, faint enough that Blaine did nothing more than nuzzle deeper into the mattress without any indication he was ready to wake up. It was only 8am, after all.
Kurt hooked his wandering finger in the edge of the bedsheets laying over Blaine’s bottom half and dragged them down a few inches to expose the swell of Blaine’s very naked ass.
Sleeping naked was new. Exciting. They’d had plenty of sex in their two years of being together, but opportunities for naked all-nighters were rare when their only options were under the same roof as their parents. It had happened once or twice, when Blaine’s parents left town (like that very first time) or when Burt and Carole had to go to Columbus for congressional meetings, but now it happened every glorious night.
Kurt rest his entire palm flat against Blaine’s lower back, absorbing his warmth and strength, and took a deep breath to commit the scent of him -of them- to memory. It would be enough to last him until 6pm when he rushed home on the subway to ravish Blaine up against their door before Rachel got back from class at 7:30pm.
He stroked down Blaine’s backside before replacing the sheets and leaning down to kiss the back of Blaine’s tousled head.
“See you later, sweetie,” he murmured quietly as he turned to leave.
“Later,” Blaine grumbled back, his eyes still closed and body still unmoving. When he woke up two hours later, he wouldn’t even remember Kurt had been there, but he would spend anxious hours with silly distractions until Kurt returned that night.
(Source: hydrotoxicity)
AU! When Kurt and Rachel both (of course both) got in to NYADA, they did not expect their teacher to look like Mr. Anderson. And Kurt certainly did not expect to fall in love with him.
“Dibs,” they say at exactly the same time and then gasp at one another.
“Kurt, he is our teacher,” Rachel hisses with all the indignation she can muster (which is quite a lot).
“You’re right, that would be incredibly inappropriate.” He turns forward again and crosses his legs, but it’s only a few moments before Rachel is leaning in towards him.
“Besides, he’s probably not gay.”
Kurt’s eyes narrow sharply but he doesn’t look away from Mr. Anderson, who is beginning to go over their syllabus at the front of the classroom.
He doesn’t mean for it to become a contest, but everything eventually develops into a competition with Rachel Berry at some point or another (Kurt would like to think he definitely won ‘best decorated dormroom’). And really, he starts it. He wears his skinniest jeans and his most flattering vest-shirt combinations; one day he even dresses down a bit just to wear the cotton three-quarter length shirt that Tina had once said accentuated his collarbones (which it totally does).
To anyone else, this is just how Kurt Hummel dresses, but to Rachel Berry it is an obvious challenge. Her wardrobe is far from risque but, in those first few weeks, Kurt sees far more of her cleavage than he really ever wanted to.
But there are nearly a hundred people in their lecture and so Kurt knows that he’s going to have to go above and beyond to beat Rachel at their little game. Because that’s what it is: a game. No matter how handsome Mr. Anderson is, or how much Kurt spaces out thinking about his smile or the color of his eyes or the warmth of his voice or what his hands—
Anyways, Mr. Anderson is his teacher and Kurt knows there are boundaries there.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to win.
Music theory isn’t really that hard, at least it isn’t for Kurt. It isn’t exactly what he imagined when he decided to go to NYADA, but even a dramatic arts college can’t be all singing, acting, and dancing (which, while unfortunate, probably won’t lead to Kurt being worn out well before his prime).
So he does exactly what Mr. Anderson told them to do; he goes to Office Hours. Mr. Anderson looks surprised (pleasantly so, if Kurt is reading him right) to see Kurt and gestures for him to take a seat. Rather than putting an entire desk between them, Mr. Anderson perches on his desk.
“What can I help you with, Kurt?”
It’s not a surprise Mr. Anderson knows his name; Kurt is very vocal in his classes. But it’s still nice to be remembered.
“Actually, I had some questions about the reading you assigned,” Kurt begins but stops short when he realizes how relieved Mr. Anderson looks. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, just… I’ve had about fifteen or twenty students in here since the start of the semester and they’ve really only said hi before leaving.”
Probably because they came to ogle you, Kurt thinks. At least he had the decency to come up with a logical reason for going to see their teacher.
“In fact, I think one of them was your friend… What’s her name? That girl you sit with?”
Mr. Anderson knows my name and not Rachel’s. That’s totally worth points.
“Rachel.”
He makes an ‘ah’ gesture with his head.
“So what was it you needed help with?”
Kurt sits up in the chair and crosses his legs, immediately launching into their reading about the origin of Gregorian chants. Mr. Anderson actually seems impressed with him and, without meaning to, they end up in an intense discussion about the music of the past and it’s contributions to music today. Kurt hadn’t even meant to stay very long and, too quickly, an alarm is going off somewhere.
“Oh,” Mr. Anderson says, startled. “I guess my hours are over.”
Kurt can’t help but feel a little disappointed, but he nods and stands from his chair.
“We’ll just have to continue our discussion on melismas in modern music another day.”
“So you admit that Gregorian chants are important,” Mr. Anderson teases as he stands and walks Kurt to the door of his office.
“Gregorian chants, like most early forms of music, is a form of music that just makes it easier to shove religion down people’s throats. Which I suppose was the norm back then, but that doesn’t mean it has to sit right with me two thousand years later,” Kurt replies primly. “But thank you for the riveting conversation, Mr. Anderson.” He gives a grateful tilt of his head and a smile and Mr. Anderson smiles back.
“Any time. Office hours are actually really boring when students don’t show up, so if you ever want to have another conversation… My door is always open.” Mr. Anderson pauses for a moment and then smiles. “Well, it’s open Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3pm-5pm.” He chuckles and Kurt can’t help but smile a little more.
That totally counts as him inviting me back, right?
“I might just take you up on that, Mr. Anderson. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He gives a small wave and then turns on his heel before walking away. He counts to ten in his head and when he glances over his shoulder he sees Mr. Anderson jerk his gaze away.
He was totally checking out my ass.
He is totally gay.
I totally win.
I immediately pictured that episode of Friends where Monica and Rachel fight over the last condom, and I have to say that picturing Rachel, Blaine, and Mercedes fidgeting awkwardly in the hall while Kurt, Finn, and Sam fight over a condom is like. The best thing I have ever pictured in mylife.
THIS IS EVERY HOPE AND OR DREAM I COULD EVER HAVE BECAUSE KURT WOULD FIGHT DIRTY AND THERE WOULD BE SO MANY HILARIOUS THINGS HAPPENING WHILE THE OTHER THREE STOOD IN THE HALLWAY TRYING TO PRETEND THEY HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON, EVEN WHEN FINN IS LIKE “YOU BIT ME” BECAUSE AGAIN, KURT FIGHTING DIRTY.”
I was inspired what can I say
I CAN’T BREATHE
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“You do realize that only one of us is going to come out the victor here?” Kurt says grimly.
“Don’t you think we’re being a little over-dramatic with all thi-“
“No way man,” Finn cuts over Sam. “This is serious business.”
All three boys fall silent, staring at the condom lying innocently in the middle of the bed.
The last condom in the box.
“Wait a second,” Sam realizes, “Don’t Finn and I kinda need it more?”
“Yeah,” Finn grease, “Because Kurt is - and Blaine can’t -“
He trails off awkwardly and shoots a dopily stupid face at Kurt, and that’s how it begins.
Kurt lunges towards the bed in his rage, but the force of his bounce sends the packet flying out of his reach where it smacks Finn straight in the chest. Before Finn can realize what’s just happened Sam is scrambling to the floor at his feet to grab it but Kurt’s elbow comes out of nowhere, knocking him to the side as Kurt grabs the condom. He raises it in the air with a triumphant smile, ready to let out a victory yell but Finn finally catches on.
“Fuck,” Kurt swears when his step-brother tackles him to the ground, effectively pinning him and wrenching the thing from his iron-grip. But before Finn can even get up Sam is heaving him off Kurt, hurling him into the dresser with a crash and taking advantage of Finn’s surprise to knock the condom out of his hand.
“Dude!” Finn protests, but Kurt is already on it, pulling one of Sam’s legs out from under him so that he practically faceplants onto the floor. Sam can barely manage a “Hey-” before Finn is on him again, twisting his arm in an attempt to loosen Sam’s grip.
But Finn lets out a yell as Kurt bites hard into his arm, falling onto his back in shock. With Finn out of the way, Kurt punches Sam in the jaw. Needing both hands to cradle the sore spot, Sam lets go of the condom but before Kurt can snatch it up Finn gets there first.
And then, just as Finn’s hot little hand grabs the packet, Kurt knees him in the balls.
-
Outside, Rachel, Mercedes, and Blaine jump a little at the long stream of oaths that emits through the vague sound of scuffling.
“Think we should intervene?” Rachel asks hesitantly.
“Not a chance in hell,” Mercedes says quickly.
Blaine just smiles.
-
“Ah-HAH!” Kurt says, backing quickly toward the door while his nemeses writhe in pain on the floor, “Fuck you guys!”
“No…” Sam says through his aching jaw, and Finn tries to get up but stumbles into the chair with a crash and tumbles back down to the floor. The victor of the war is obvious.
Kurt, hair disheveled, shirt torn half-way off, face flushed, with a twitch in his temple, opens the door, a crazed gleam in his eye.
“Blaine,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “My bedroom. Now.”
As the girls grumble in discontent Blaine’s face stretches into a comical version of triumph, swinging his arms into the air with a whoop before Kurt practically drags him down the hall and slams the door shut.
It’s a few minutes before Finn and Sam emerge, looking even more bedraggled than Kurt had. Rachel sighs in frustration.
“Goddammit, can someone just buy new condoms?” she huffs.
Mercedes just shakes her head at her boyfriend. “Really Sam? Really?”
The look Sam’s face is one of utter shame. “He’s wily, Mercedes.”
Down the hall, a rather wanton-sounding moan resonates from Kurt’s room.
m
Kurt has an amazing body, of this Blaine is aware.
Oh, trust him, he is very much aware — probably more than anyone else, and there is not a single thing about his boyfriend’s body that Blaine does not appreciate.
He loves Kurt’s broad shoulders, he loves his long fingers (and how they feel when they’re inside Blaine’s body, god, he loves that), he loves Kurt’s toned chest, the way his ribs shows when he’s naked and arching up from the bed as he comes… Simply put, everything about Kurt Hummel is perfect, inside and out — but Blaine does have an extra thing for Kurt’s legs. His thighs, especially, and how slender they are, how tight and firm they are, how they get broader as they reach his perfect ass.
Now, seeing how just thinking about Kurt’s legs can get Blaine all hot and bothered even when he’s just sitting in class, it doesn’t really help him that his boyfriend has a fondness of wearing not even just tight, but goddamned painted on, jeans. Blaine still remembers the first time he met Kurt out of Dalton — how could he forget? — and how he had to literally force himself not to check a guy’s he didn’t even know yet ass out, like a total creep, and he felt so ashamed about it all, and was sure Kurt would call him out on it and ask him why he was blushing (because he knows he did).
So yeah, Blaine loves the tight pants, and always has, long before he even had a right to.
So it really comes as a surprise to him, when he realizes that his favourite jeans Kurt has ever worn, is actually his baggy, loose fit, boyfriend jeans — and Kurt wears them often. Blaine understands, they look comfortable, and Kurt always manages to match them so it still looks like something of the runway.
But the thing is — the only thing Blaine can think about when Kurt wears them, is that night.
The “I want to go to your house,“-night.
The “I’m sure if you’re sure,”-night.
The “That… that feels so good, oh god,” gasped out against Blaine’s lips-night.
The “I know you’re probably not supposed to, but I think I love you more than I love myself, and I can’t even feel bad about it, because there’s not one thing that’s bad about loving you, and I hope I’ll get to do it forever,“-night.
So maybe the reason for why they’re his favourite Kurt-jeans has nothing to do with how Kurt looks in them, actually, Blaine realizes as they sit in the choir room, Kurt in his chair and chatting away with Tina, while Blaine tries to get his palms to stop sweating from just looking at his boyfriend. Maybe Kurt wearing those jeans isn’t his favourite thing in the world because it makes his ass look amazing.
Maybe it’s because all Blaine can think of when seeing them, is
YouandMe,
KurtandBlaine,
ThatNightWeGaveEachOtherEverything.
Blaine hasn’t even asked, but he secretly hopes that that is also why Kurt has started to wear them at least once a week ever since that night.
Because it makes Kurt think of KurtandBlaine and him.
(Source: carsonphillips)
Glee AU: ’I made the whole thing up in my head, didn’t I?’ (aka Kurt imagines Blaine and their relationship)
Everyone turned to look at Kurt, their mouths slightly agape.
“Guys?” Mr. Schuester repeated, “problem?”
“You’re not real!” Rachel shouted, pointing, looking very upset.
“Am I hallucinating?” Finn mumbled dumbly.
“I just don’t understand,” Mike said, shaking his head in confusion.
Kurt just stared.
Because…they told him he was wrong.
They told him he was sick.
They said there was no way his boyfriend, Blaine Anderson, was real.
“Guys? What’s with all this animosity? This shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Oh, there’s an issue, all right,” Santana called out. “Preppy Pants only exists in Kurt’s weird little head!”
“Uhh…I’m sorry?” the new kid, Blaine, spoke, shaking his head and giving a confused little laugh. “I am a real person…I just wanted to join Glee—”
“May I be excused?” Kurt exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He looked deeply upset, on the brink of tears.
“Sure, Kurt…bu—” but before he could get out another word, Kurt was out the door.
He fell against the wall outside, and slid to the floor, crying.
Months of therapy.
“You were so lonely, Kurt. We can understand that. But you’ve got to let him go.”
“Kurt, please, you have real friends right here—aren’t we enough?”
“You’ll find someone someday, I promise, kid. I love you.”
Months of forgetting about Blaine.
Months of making him disappear, willing him away. All that time Blaine—no, his manifestation of a boy named Blaine in his mind—pleaded with him.
Don’t do this, Kurt. I love you. Please don’t listen to them.
I haven’t been honest with you, I’m sorry. But I’m real—I swear.
Don’t make me go. I know you don’t want me to.
I won’t be able to find my way back if you let me go, Kurt. Please don’t let me go.
You said you’d never say goodbye to me. He was crying.
“I’m sorry, Blaine…”
I’ll leave. You don’t have to force me out…I’ll…I’ll go. But I’m not giving up. I’m going to try.
I’ll find my way back to you. I’ll try.
And this Blaine Anderson—he looked exactly like his Blaine. The others knew it, too. He had attempted to draw a likeness, once. He described him in detail. The way Blaine spoke, the way he dressed. His eyes.
Was this a big joke they were playing on him? Any moment the others would pop outside the door and laugh at him?
What had he done to deserve their ridicule?
“Kurt?” the most beautiful voice in the world—and the most impossible—spoke.
Kurt turned and saw the new boy biting his lip and looking down at him.
“What are you doing here?” Kurt said, trying to force the emotion out of his voice.
But Blaine just smiled and knelt down beside him.
“Well, my boyfriend just ran out of the room, quite upset.” Kurt looked at him, not sure if he wanted to slap the boy, or kiss him. Blaine leaned in closer, and whispered, “I told you I’d try to find a way back. I’m sorry I’m so late.”
A girl passed in the halls—Alicia. From his french class. He knew she was real—he’d partnered with her before on projects. His heart was beating faster than he ever imagined when he called out to her, his voice squeaky and panicked-sounding. She turned, alarmed. “ALICIA, IS HE REAL?”
“Uh…” the girl said, raising an eyebrow at Kurt.
“CAN YOU SEE HIM?” He called desperately, grabbing Blaine’s shirt in his fist.
The girl looked Blaine up and down, and a slow grin started to spread over his face. “Oh yeah.”
He wasted no more time as he turned to Blaine and pressed their lips together.
Blaine would have a lot of explaining to do later. But it was okay.
They could take as much time as they needed.
***
(reminds me of a ghost!Blaine / warbler!Kurt fic I’m writing, actually.)
(Source: starkspangledcompanions)