#( text messages: rachel berry )

[smythehq]

📲 sebastian & rachel

sebastian: you're helping blaine campaign? sebastian: okay. @xstunningingenue

[kurtxhummels]

text messages 📲 kurchel

KURT: I have great news! I don't know if he's called you yet, but I wanted to be the first to tell you -- KURT: You got the role! Rehearsals start tomorrow. @remarkablerachelberry

[whatifbrittlp]

@broadwaybabymomma

Text

Britt: Hey Rachel.

Britt: i’ve been thinking and I would love to take up your offer and talk about what’s been going on.

[limalatina]

📱 TEXT: Santana ↔️ Rachel

Rachel : I have a two part question. First part, do you have plans tonight? Rachel : Second, if not, would you be interested in having a movie night with me?

@stardomiscalling

--------- Santana : I always have plans, Rachel. Sometimes I just don't follow through on them. Santana : I was supposed to go on a Tinder date, but she's a Gemini so I may have to take a raincheck. A flick sounds cool. Santana : Do I get to pick what we watch?

[wmufranniefabray]

f2f → rachel & frannie

It had been a relatively hectic day, thus far. In between classes, Frannie had set her mind towards trying to convince one of her professors to grant her access to one of the lab's later into the evening so she could spend extra time examining one of her current projects. Unsurprisingly, this hadn't gone to plan and the professor had urged Frannie to...gain other hobbies outside of her academics, which she had been mildly offended by. She had hobbies! Plenty of them! Her indignation was palpable as she walked - well, marched - back to her dorm, ignoring the looks of confusion many passing students gave her.

No, she did not care to slow down or wait for anyone to today. Her patience was running slightly thin.

Feeling her phone buzz in the corner of her jacket pocket, Frannie quickly reached inside to grab her phone, her brow raising as she saw Rachel's text message. See, Frannie had hobbies! She was even spending time with a relatively new friend today.

Meeting Rachel had been...definitely enlightening, to say the least. At times, Frannie had found socialising with others - especially at college - to be relatively disappointing. Nobody truly understood or could relate to her innate desire to achieve. It had been drilled into Frannie ever since she was a little child - never settle for anything less than perfection. It had taken years to try to forget some of the morals her parents had instilled in her across the years, but her ambition had never once wavered.

Rachel, however, was different. Rachel reminded Frannie of a bright burst of energy, a newfound jolt of electricity that she had never noticed she was missing until now. And part of Frannie - a small part she had been trying to ignore - hadn't been able to erase Rachel Berry from her mind ever since their first conversation.

The coffee shop was bristling with customers and was relatively busy as Frannie pushed open the door, letting the gust of wind fall inside alongside her as she walked inside. Frannie's eyes scanned the shop, her eyes darting from each individual, waiting until they landed on Rachel.

@stardomiscalling

[packagecfgirlyevil-a]

get to know the author!

name : ashley pronouns :  she/her preference of communication : whatever ! im bad at communicating frequently anyways so tumblr ims are usually where i'm comfortable starting but if we talk a decent amount i can give you my discord - i will not give it to just anyone but also like. its not hard to find now that the #s are gone. i just feel bad because i have a tendency to read a message and forget that it's there and don't reply for awhile. most active muse :  merrick or stella ! i go through waves with different muses at different times but those two are without a doubt the most common ones i can pull out before the rest experience / how many years :  i started in the g lee rp circle playing the one and only rachel barbra berry for about four years before i started dipping into oc's. since then i have created a fucking small towns worth of characters and gravitate towards indie or small discord groups. sometimes i look at tumblr groups but discord is just easier so that i can rp on my phone. best experience : i genuinely can't tell you. i've had so many incredible experiences over the years - i've made amazing friends, met great people, and written some truly phenominal stories i couldn't have done without other people. rp pet peeves : i don't really have any lmao u do u and ill do me and we'll just mesh or we won't ??? fluff, angst, or smut : all. angst but like, light angst - dark themes i tend to keep off tumblr because i'm tired of the Correct Police throwing grenades at people. fluff is easy but gets kind of dull sometimes. i like writing smut but i do gotta be in the mood for it. a mixture and balance is what i care about most ! plots or memes : ???? why not both.gif ??? plotting is great and i'm always down for crying about our babes but also sometimes you just have to see where your characters go and how they interact - it's again all about having a healthy mixture for me ! also i love memes and they can help me when i'm stuck for a beginning interaction or just in a writing slump ( like rn ) long or short replies : depends on my mood and writing ability; i like really long replies because i have a tendency to put in a lot of exposition, but sometimes snappy one liners are easier to get out. most of what i do on discord is 'texting' so that also makes an impact. time to write : i would love to find this out for myself one day if you can find it lemme know are you like your muses : i think there's always a little piece of a writer in all their characters, whether it's a favorite color or song or attitude or something. so yes, i'm sure some of them are different facets of my personality, but that is something for an eventual therapist and i to tackle.

tagged by: @wynterlanding kiss.emoji

tagging: @mctionsick @evocatiive @sanamuse who else do i write with that wasn't already tagged

[klaine-a03-feed]

brooklyn baby

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/DtF9PQ5 by user9358291 In which Quinn Fabray is the lead singer of a famous band, tired of having to put on the “Good Christian Girl” image for the media. and Rachel Berry is an famous actress, looking for a distraction after her terrible breakup . (rockstar quinn! x actress rachel! au chatfic) Words: 2076, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English Fandoms: Glee Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany S. Pierce, Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Mercedes Jones, Jesse St. James, Sam Evans (Glee), Finn Hudson, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Mike Chang Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Additional Tags: Minor Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Minor Sam Evans/Quinn Fabray, Strangers to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Social Media, Chatting & Messaging, Texting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Outing, Homophobia, Neurodiversity, Fluff and Angst, rachel and jesse bestieism, unholy trinity bestieism, pezberry bestiesm, because it’s what we deserve, faberry centric, but all of the characters show up and some have their own storylines, Established Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Minor Santana Lopez/Noah Puckerman

[athornedmarls]

TEXT MESSAGE 📲 ROSEBERRY

MARLEY: Let's go out. Hit up a club or like do something.

MARLEY: You game?

[lavunyan]

A Couple Shirt

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!reader (Haru) Word Count: 927 words Warning: Nothing but fluff Summary: So, Jisung misunderstood them?

A/N: AAAAAAAA I will buy Wolfchan >,< so happy. I'll take a picture of it when it arrived at my house~ and yeah I got shadowbanned before, so that is the reason why I haven't updated anything on my page T-T Anyway, enjoy this drabble, my beautiful STAY~~

"Hi, Mom." 

She was on her way home and was surprised by Chan's mom calling her. She tried to recall Chan's location. Knowing him and his schedule, Haru expected him at his dorm or on his way home like her. 

"Rachel, how are you doing, sweetie?" 

Rachel is her English name. Many people still call her that name as that is also her official name. 

Behind Chan's mom's voice, Berry was barking, and Hannah seemed to play with Berry.  

"I'm doing good, Mom. How was everyone there?"

"Yea, we are also doing fine. Are you with Chris now?" 

 "Nope, I was about to come to his place. Did you call him before?" 

"I didn't. I just missed you both. If you arrive, could we video call?" 

"Sure, Mom. Chris would be ecstatic. But I need to end the call now, already near the dorm, so I'll call you back later, okay?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. I bought a chip for you, and I sent it to Chris. Love you." 

"Love you too, Mom." 

The last time she texted Chan was when lunchtime, and she needed to go back and forth following the senior attorney at the law firm. Chan just informed her that he had spent his day at the studio and recording all day. Even so, she doubted that he was already at the dorm. 

She saw Hyunjin was painting in the middle of the room. He smiled upon knowing that his favorite Nuna came with bags of food in her hand. He, with giddy steps, came and helped her take the food to the counter. 

"Where is the other?" 

Haru asked him while giving Seungmin and Minho a quick message to take the food she prepared for them. She and her mother usually gave the boys food and fruits. While her mother constantly nagged her to bring food for her favorite sons, she wasn't some delivery guy. At least Seungmin and Minho could take their food to their dorm without her getting it for them. 

"They going to be back in a while. Jisung promises to help move some of my art supplies around this time." 

She nodded and put her padding jacket aside, rolled up her sleeves, and helped Hyunjin unpack the food she had brought. The front door opened with Seungmin humming loudly. He dragged himself and smiled wildly at her while giving her a warm hug. 

"Every time you came, you always brought food." 

"It's because you guys always starve yourself. Besides, I come here every now and then, so it's not like I spoil you or anything." She smiled and ruffled his hair. 

"Take these fruits, and if the guy from this floor takes them from you, hit them. I already set it here." She said while pointing at a bag full of fruits. 

"Okey dokey, Nuna. I'll go back down, alright? Oh yeah, Minho Hyung said he had a plant for you. But just pick it up when he is already in the dorm later." 

She smiled again at him and waved her hand when Seungmin had gone from her sight. Hyunjin already made himself comfortable and put his focus on devouring his food. She had already lunch with the senior attorney, so she ordered him to eat. Haru carefully took her time to arrange the food container in the refrigerator. 

"Nuna?!" 

Changbin's voice boomed around the room that she almost dropped the apple in her hand. Jisung and Chan were tailing him to see the women crouching in front of the refrigerator. They skipped toward her and, one by one, hugged her. She then shrugged all of them by luring them with food. Chan looked at her fondly, and before letting her go, he kissed her forehead lovingly. 

"I'd love it if Haru Nuna stopped by the dorm." 

"Because I always bring food for all of you guys?"

"Exactly!" 

She sighed, "Bin, I brought that food to make you silent. But even with that, you won't stop talking," and she glanced and laughed with the rest of the guys while Changbin acted cutely and all. 

While she busied herself with her task at hand, she could feel Jisung steal a glance every once and then. His mouth puffed, full of food, while his eyes looked at her. She then looked at him, raising her eyebrows, trying to make a telepathic conversation with him. But then again, Jisung looked away and stared at the oldest man in the room. Before long, he looked at her again. 

She frowned, not having the slightest idea of what he was trying to say. 

"You guys wear the same shirt?" 

His question made them stare at each other's bodies in an instant.

 "Ah... this? This is his shirt, but I use it." 

Besides, there were a lot of his clothes in her apartment, and she thought an oversize shirt was a good style for her early this morning. Chan, who just realized that it was one of his shirts, just nodded and continued finishing his meal. 

"Oooh, so this is why you were not coming home last night, Hyung?" There is a tint of mischievousness in his tone. 

Haru paused for a moment because she knew that Chan had spent all of his time at the studio last night. She then looked at their clothes. A couple shirts, if you will, back to Jisung, who wriggled his eyebrows while smirking. 

Ah... So that's what he means. 

"Jisung, you-" 

Jisung laughs while Chan just focuses on eating even though the tip of his ears becomes cherry. 

Masterlist

[smythehq]

📲 sebastian & rachel

sebastian: i know you're like method acting this 'taking a step back' thing. but you've been quiet for so long i'm beginning to think you aren't okay. sebastian: texting for signs of life. @xstunningingenue

[kurtxhummels]

text messages 📲 kurt x rachel

KURT: Happy 4th, my darling Anastasia! 🎆🎆🎆 KURT: Can you believe we're in the last four performances already? It seems like it all went by so quickly.

@remarkablerachelberry

[take-a-sip-chump]

The Tragedy of Quinn Fabray

I had a conversation about Glee with my mom the other day. She hasn’t seen the show since the first season aired, but she brought up a point that interested me. She said that she had always thought of Quinn as the main character, rather than Rachel. I don’t think Quinn should have been the main character of Glee, don’t get me wrong. But it did call into question, why was Quinn’s story so different from the others? I mean, everyone got conflict, everyone had an arc (RIP Matt), but Quinn’s story stood out, it had a different energy that frankly didn’t quite fit the tone and message of Glee.

Glee is a story about love, self-acceptance, and community. This is something we all agree on, despite the fact that the writers somewhat failed to put any of those things into the script for the most part (the actors pulled more than their own weight throughout the series, that’s for sure). What’s in the text gives us another message, one that takes its toll on the story, which is that underdogs always come out on top, and that if you work hard, if you’re talented enough, things will always work out in your favor. Rachel Berry gets the Tony. Mercedes Jones gets the record deal. Kurt and Blaine get… ambiguous theater success? (I’m still not clear on what exactly they do, I think it’s playwriting and acting?) and a child of their own. Sue Sylvester becomes the Vice President of the United States for god’s sake! So why are there certain stories that never see that end? Quinn is an underdog, Quinn works hard, Quinn is unmistakably intelligent, and yet.

Quinn never has a moment, in the many conflicts and terrible things that follow her throughout the story, to even breathe. How can she create success out of thin air, the way the rest of the characters have? She was homeless her sophomore year of high school, she’s been pregnant, she’s been quite literally hit by a truck. How is she meant to come back from that, with only the support of other 15-18 year olds, each having problems of their own? It’s an extremely difficult thing to do, to overcome so much with so little.

And we never see her manage it. Her story ends, and there’s no way to know what the future holds, and yes, maybe it is great success, maybe it’s riches and acclaim and a happy loving family, but probably not. It is more likely that she will live out her life perfectly average, if marginally unhappy. In a story like Glee, a perfectly average life is a failure, an undesirable end. The tragedy of Quinn Fabray’s story is that it is grounded in reality, in a narrative built on fantasy. She is, for all intents and purposes, one of the only characters we see end the story without what she wants, despite all the work she puts in to acquire it.

And what does Quinn Fabray want? Fame? Stardom? Acclaim? These are the things Glee bases success around, and every other member of the main cast strives for it in one way or another. Santana wants to be a star. Mike and Brittany want to be famous dancers. Tina wants to be a beloved vocalist. And Quinn’s desires do not fall in line with this precedent. She doesn’t strive for fame, she doesn’t want NYADA or Broadway or any other over-the-rainbow goal that her friends scratch and claw and bite for. What Quinn wants, more than anything in the world, comes down to two things: to have agency, and to be understood. And yes, in the real world, these things are a tall order. It’s very very rare to find one, let alone both. But in a story where William Schuester gets to help create his very own performing arts school, for Quinn not to find either one feels like a bucket of ice water to the face. It’s a window to the real world in the middle of a cinder block wall built specifically to keep it out.

Quinn is an incredible character, and standing alone her story is phenomenal and poignant. It would have a powerful message about love, loss, and struggle. But within the constraints of Glee, it feels almost… disappointing. Quinn’s story was stifled by the larger narrative it exists in, but it would have thrived if it had the space to. This is not to say there isn’t merit to stories like Glee, where we can pretend for the moment that the world is a just place, and that all who deserve to will get the chance to show everyone just how great they are. But Quinn didn’t belong to that world. She didn’t get the chance to. And that’s exactly what’s so sad.

[limalatina]

📱 TEXT: Santana ↔️ Rachel

Santana : Word to the wise Rach: the next time you want to get your rocks off, a little heads up would be nice. Santana : I'm letting you know if it happens again I'm pulling the fire alarm. Santana : I'll leave it up to you to explain everything to the police. Meanwhile I'll be cleaning my ears out with bleach.

( @stardomiscalling )

[chocoholicannanymous]

Concepts of Insanity (Glee)

AN: No proofreading whatsoever. Subject to rewrite if I change my mind about it. Take it or leave it.

Concepts of Insanity

“Kurt? Oh, there you are, good. We have an emergency!”

Kurt smiles a little as he finishes up rearranging the flowers. He adores Isabelle, he really does, but she's a bit...excitable. There's always an emergency, or a disaster, or a catastrophe. So far today there's been four, unless he's miscounting; a lose hem, a missing delivery of non-alcoholic champagne, Isabelle almost fainting from forgetting to eat, and the flowers he's currently fixing not being enough something or other. He's actually kind of curious what it is this time.

He gives the flowers a last look, nods with satisfaction and turns around. The smile on his lips dies the second he meets Isabelle's eyes. This isn't a normal emergency.

“What's wrong?”

“The musicians are here, only the vocalist is currently throwing up to the point where they've called an ambulance.”

Kurt winces. That doesn't sound good for whoever it is. Also it really doesn't sound good for them. Isabelle had gone out on a limb with the small ensemble she'd hired for the event, deciding to make the music more than a background by having some songs performed with vocals. To have the vocalist missing would throw off the setlist. Maybe not enough for most people to notice, but at an event like this? Someone would definitely notice.

Especially since word seemed to have spread.

“I've spent the last ten minutes on the phone, and there's not a single vocalist to be had. This is so bad, Kurt! I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

Kurt hesitates, uncomfortable with voicing his possible solution, but deciding to offer it up anyway. It's Isabelle.

(Plus Rachel will never forgive him if he doesn't and she finds out.)

“I know it's not what you were aiming at, but my roommate is a NYADA student, and I know that most of the songs you picked out is in her wheelhouse. I could call her? If she answers she could hop in a cab and be here in 30 minutes.”

Isabelle looks a bit hesitant, but nods.

“Please do. I'll pay for the cab too, obviously. Check back with me in 5 minutes?”

Kurt agrees and hurries out to a silent space, phone in hand already dialing as he walks. There's no response for his first call, and Kurt leaves a hurried voice mail for Rachel to call him asap as it's an emergency. He then sends the same message as a text before trying to call again. He manages to squeeze in a total of five calls before he has to return to Isabelle, without response.

Maybe Rachel's in the shower again. Or singing. Or on a date with Brody.

“I'm sorry, Isabelle. I couldn't get hold of her.”

“Never mind, I have an idea. Can you do it?”

Kurt stares at her, not quite believing he heard her right.

“Me?” She nods and he shakes his head. “Isabelle, you've never even heard me sing!”

“True. But honey, I know how good you are with fashion. For you to chose music over that you have to be either insanely talented or just insane. So, will you do it?”

Kurt wants to shake his head again. What she's suggesting is crazy. Yes, Kurt can sing, but... His focus on music is more and more looking like insanity. He's just gotten rejected by Carmen Tibideaux a second time, for crying out loud. “Devoid of complexity and depth” echoes through his skull.

Except. This is Isabelle asking. His fairy godmother of sorts. He owes her.

“Are you sure? I'll do it, if you really want, but I'm not going to be anywhere as good as whoever you'd hired,” or Rachel for that matter, “and I don't want to ruin this for you.”

“You are going to be amazing. Thank you, Kurt, you're a lifesaver!”

And with that Isabelle floats off, leaving Kurt in a dazed state. He's going to panic, sooner or later, but for now he's still too stunned for it.

Right. His first action has to be to talk to the ensemble. The plan was to have the vocalist on three sets of three songs throughout the evening, but he's not entirely clear on what numbers had finally been picked. He will probably need to review lyrics up until the guests arrive, provided he can actually manage all of them. He's got a good range, yes, but that's not everything.

Oh, and he should swing by Isabelle's office and nab the blue west he'd spotted earlier – he'd dressed to fade against the wallpaper, not to be seen.

The first set goes well, as does the second. By the third and final he's lost enough of his nerves to let Isabelle drag him out on the floor instead of going off to hide as he'd initially planned. Several people drop by to talk, and he gets more than a few compliments. Maybe it's more about looking good to Isabelle than about actually liking it, but Kurt will take it anyway.

“So, you must be not just a talented singer but talented in fashion too for Isabelle to have taken you under her wing. Do you study fashion or music?”

The woman, Nadia something, asking sounds genuine and so Kurt gives her a small smile and answers as pleasantly as he can.

“Neither actually. I'm applying to NYADA though.”

There's a flash of something in her face, but Kurt can't quite make out what it is.

“For the spring semester? Ah.” She hesitates, sends a look towards where Isabelle is talking animatedly about something, and then looks at Kurt again.

“Can I be honest? Carmen Tibideaux is a very talented woman, in everything she does, and she's got an eye for picking out talent. However, she's also got a bit of a reputation.

“She loves to discover new talent that others overlook. Except every now and again she'll go about it in a rather underhanded way. She'll have someone audition, someone talented but a little raw around the edges. Someone with a ton of talent but a weak resumé, often with a little less self-esteem than most performers. She'll praise them and then turn them down. Most of the time they'll come back, looking for a second chance – she said they were great, right? Surely that means they'll get the part sooner or later, if they just approach it right.”

Kurt swallows. It sounds a little too familiar for comfort.

“Sometimes she'll turn them down both a second and third time, and then she'll put them on the spot, giving them another chance as long as they step out of their comfort zone and perform to her standards. And then she'll take them, and she'll own them. They'll go through their whole careers claiming they owe it all to her.”

She looks Kurt in the eyes, sincerity radiating out of her – but Kurt knows how little that means, in these circles – and a kind expression on her face.

“I'm not saying that's you, but for you to be applying to the spring semester, with your level of talent... If she's doing it to you, you should know you're not the first, and I doubt you'd be the last.

“Any school would be well served to have you as a student, I think. I already know you're talented, and as I know Isabelle I also know you have to be hardworking. Plus, seeing as that ensemble always works with a female vocalist I'm assuming something happened to have you step in at the last minute, meaning you stand up to pressure.

“NYADA is not the only school in New York for a young man like you, and I'd argue that it's not the best either. Think about what I've said, will you? And thank you again for a very enjoyable performance.”

It's only years of pretending in the face of bullies and a worried father that allows Kurt to pull of a believable goodbye and graceful exit. After this he's definitely hiding in Isabelle's office, damn it.

When Kurt comes back to the loft it's late and he wants nothing more to fall into bed, nighttime routines be damned. But Rachel's sitting on the couch, waiting for him judging from the expectant look on her face.

“I tried to call you.” It comes out a little flat, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to pretend. He needed her, called an emergency damn it, and she hasn't even texted him back in the six hours since his frantic calling.

“I heard, but I was busy practicing my number for tomorrow.” She doesn't even look sorry.

“Oh? I thought you said you didn't have any assignments for tomorrow.” That was why he'd felt safe calling her, after all.

She just waves a hand, clearly not too bothered.

“Nothing official, no, but that's no reason not to be ready to perform. I'm sure there will be an opening for me to dazzle my classmates.” And she goes on to describe the songs she's considered, and who's done them, and why her version is better, and Kurt just...tunes her out.

She hasn't even asked what he wanted. It's as if the thought hasn't even passed her mind. Well. If she's not interested then he's not going to waste his time telling her – especially not since she's bound to get upset over losing an opportunity to perform for an actual audience. He's also not going to waste his time listening to her go on about what she'd done instead of checking in on him.

“I'm going to bed.”

“Kurt! I need your input on this, surely bed can wait a bit?” When he shakes his head  her face hardens. “Fine, be that way. NYADA is hard, you know. It takes dedication. Maybe if you showed a little more of that you would have gotten accepted.”

Kurt shoves down the desire to slap her and bites out a “goodnight” before stalking off to bed. He can't believe she went there. Oh wait, he can. It's so Rachel, to just look at herself and ignore everything else. Show more dedication? Devoid of complexity and depth. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

Kurt had knocked his audition out of the park. Rachel and madam Tibideaux both had admitted that. Meanwhile Rachel had choked. Yet he'd been rejected while Rachel fucking Berry swanned around NYADA claiming to be dedicated. She never should have gotten accepted based on her audition. And somehow he just knows that there's no way she'd admit that Kurt should have been given that spot, not her.

As for madam Tibideaux and her “I rarely give anyone a second chance and if I do it's on my terms”... Bah! Rachel had harassed her way into her second chance. Hell, she'd recruited several others to also harass the madam on her behalf.

But somehow Kurt reapplying was the foul thing here. Right.

Maybe it was time he looked at options other than NYADA. That woman at the vogue event, she'd said that other schools might be a better fit for him. She'd sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Unlike Kurt, honestly, who'd pinned his hopes on NYADA based on Rachel. Hindsight has him questioning if he'd been slipped something, because leaving his college education up to whatever Rachel wanted? Insanity.

Well. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, right? Clearly it's time to change his approach.

O--o---o--O

A week later Rachel comes home from the NYADA Winter Showcase bubbling about her success and how she's taken them all by storm. She makes a snide comment or two about how Kurt should have been able to see it for himself, had he taken the ticket she'd gone through so much trouble to acquire for him instead of doing whatever (it's called work), and Kurt just nods. He doesn't really care, but. He has to at least pretend to listen to preserve peace in the loft.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Madam Tibideaux asked after you.”

Kurt stills like a dog scenting prey. This he wants to hear.

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently she was considering giving you another chance at applying. I don't know why she had to do it tonight, as it's for NYADA students and you're not, but she did. You should probably contact her. If you apologize properly she might still be open to it.”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for a reaction and clearly not pleased with what she's seeing.

“Well?”

“I'll think about it, Rachel. Calm down.”

And he will. Only he's not too eager to apologize to madam Tibideaux, or give her another chance to toy with him and probably reject him (he didn't show up for what she had planned, after all). It all sounds very much like what Nadia described at the vogue event. He listened. He might not have liked what he heard, or wanted to believe it, but he listened. In more than one way.

Over the past seven days he's written half a dozen applications to various music schools in New York, and sent them out. His current favorite is the New School, where a tour of the campus has given him a very good vibe. He'd be happy there, he thinks, and they might be happy with him. At least that's his take from meeting a couple of faculty members, one of the more prestigious of which just so happens to be Nadia.

Who would have guessed that doing a favor for Isabelle would lead to this? He might just owe her even more by now. Fairy godmother indeed.

~ The End ~

[amazonworrier]

You should do:

Person B is a hot sleeper, and Person A likes to cuddle. Person B constantly wakes up sweating in the middle of the night because Person A is glued to them

For Quinntana! A could be Santana and B could be Quinn.

Yas!

Quinn's not going to pretend she hates Santana anymore. 'Hate' feels like too strong a word. Quinn tolerates Santana on certain days, and dislikes her on all others. She wonders if, perhaps, that might be because she also somewhat dislikes herself most days, and no one reminds her more of herself than Santana Lopez.

That's why it's almost laughable when, just as Quinn is contemplating hitting the self-destruct button on her rather enjoyable life at Yale over her first A- on a paper, she opens the door to her dorm to find Santana standing there waiting for her. Her 'psychic Mexican third eye,' has, after all, always been impeccable.

"Don't be such an idiot, Quinn."

As it turns out, what Santana is actually referring to, is Quinn's decision not to attend the funeral of one Finn Hudson, who rudely opted to die last week at a college party and threw all of their lives into absolute upheaval. As his ex, and arguably most controversial, girlfriend, Quinn was granted the humble honour of hearing about his death through the social media grapevine while at a college party of her own. It's not as if she'd expected a personal phone call from Rachel Berry, or anything, but a text from someone involved in the tragedy wouldn't have gone amiss.

Nonetheless, she's surprised it's Santana who shows up at her door. Their relationship has been rocky ever since that... seven(?) time thing at Mr Schue's bomb of a wedding. Apparently Santana is fine with the idea of college experimentation as a once-off, but when her 100% heterosexual high school best-frenemy is falling apart on her tongue for the umpteenth time that night, she basically views it as her civic duty to award the flannel badge to Quinn herself.

Quinn absolutely did not accept, and they haven't spoken to each other since.

"Santana," Quinn stands aside to let her old friend in, or gets pushed. She's not sure. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Cut the crap," Santana rolls her eyes, scanning the room with disgust. "What the fuck happened here?"

Quinn glances around at the mess she's made over the last few hours. She wasn't joking about self-destruction, it was just lucky she'd been short on matches at the time. She opts not to respond, simply because she doesn't owe Santana an explanation.

For anything.

"What are you doing here, Santana?" Quinn asks instead.

"I've come to tell you that you're a selfish bitch," Santana fires back, rifling through Quinn's closet without explanation.

"Message received," Quinn folds her arms. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

Once again, Santana seems less bothered by Quinn's words as she does the current state of their surroundings. "How do you live like this?"

"Without judgement, usually."

Santana scoffs, locating one of Quinn's more conservative black dresses and yanking it out of her wardrobe. The next thing Quinn sees is a flash of black, as the garment is thrown forcefully at her face.

"Pack a bag," she hears, "We're gonna be late."

Quinn listens, because she thinks a part of her might actually have been waiting for this; praying someone, anyone, from McKinley would care enough to come here and force her to attend the funeral of a boy she once imagined spending the rest of her life with. A funeral she couldn't possibly attend alone, and therefore one she'd rather planned on skipping today.

Santana gets them back to Lima just in time, and holds Quinn's hand until it's all over. 

They fall apart together, quietly, in the darkness of Santana's childhood bedroom later that evening. Santana is the first to fall asleep.

That's when Quinn first makes the discovery, and it's an alarming one at that. For all her bark and bite, a Santana at rest is more koala bear than bull terrier. She wraps herself around Quinn's body in her sleep, tangling their legs together and clinging to Quinn's shoulders as she nuzzles into her neck with a breathy sigh. If it so happened that Quinn were, in fact, a lesbian, she supposes the whole thing might've left her feeling somewhat hot and bothered.

It must only be a few minutes before her body temperature rises to the point of absurdity. Quinn's always been a hot sleeper, and having a flaming, Santana-sized parasite wrapped around the length of her body right now isn't exactly conducive to a night of easily earned rest. She unsticks herself from Santana, rolling to the other side of the bed, as far away as she can possibly go without falling onto the floor. The cool pillow hits her cheek, and Quinn sighs, allowing sleep to wash away the remains of one of the worst days of her life, so far.

A warm hand closes around her waist five seconds later, and something inside Quinn snaps.

“Santana,” she hisses, spinning around and shoving at her friend’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

Santana wakes with a grumble, one eye cracked open. Her frown is obvious even in complete darkness. “What?”

“You’re so hot.”

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself, Fabray.” 

It’s smug. Too smug. Quinn can hear the smirk in her voice. She kicks at Santana’s leg under the covers, stopping it midway through its quest to once again weave with her own like some sort of horny grapevine. 

“Stop that,” Quinn shoves at the warm body again. “I’m serious. Get off me!”

There’s silence for a while, or at least long enough to stir the faintest of butterflies within Quinn’s stomach as her mind runs wild with possible theories about what Santana, arguably her most psychotic friend, might be contemplating in response to the rejection. For a brief moment, she weighs up the odds of that rumour about Lima-Heights residents sleeping with knives under their pillows actually being true. 

There’s a sudden movement under the blankets, away from her this time, and a lamp clicks. By the time Quinn's eyes adjust, Santana is already standing up and stomping towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Quinn asks, only to receive a murderous scowl in return.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Santana sneers. “God forbid Quinn Fabray catch the gay.”

The door slams, and Santana is gone. It’s textbook Lopez, a barb both targeted and catchy enough to leave a mark, then an exit made before the opponent can strike back. Quinn’s had too emotional of a day to think about why Santana’s words leave her reeling, although, in truth, the answer struck her months ago in a different bedroom; when she was the one walking out on Santana. She bites back a sob, leaning over to turn the light out on the other side of the bed and forcing herself to get some sleep.

It’s too cold.

Quinn opens her eyes again with a sigh. It goes against everything she stands for to get out of that bed and drag herself into the living room, but she does it anyway. Santana is buried under an abundance of blankets and pillows, snoring lightly, which is odd, given that she insists she doesn’t. Snore, that is.

Quinn watches Santana sleep for longer than she’d care to admit, before biting the bullet and tearing the blankets off her in one fluid motion.

Santana wakes up with a startled gasp. “What the fuck, Quinn?”

There’s barely a second between Santana’s outburst and the feeling of a cold, hard surface against Quinn’s back, as she’s thrown into the living room wall. Santana’s forearm presses painfully into her chest, pinning her in place.

It’s... not as unpleasant as it should be.

If Quinn’s eyes flicker to Santana’s lips, then so be it. She’s tired, and grieving, and Santana might currently be the only person in her life who sees her for who she really is. There’s something oddly attractive about that. Magnetic, even. It's less 'the mortifying ideal of being known' and more 'the gratifying relief of being understood.'

At Quinn’s reticence, Santana grows hesitant. Their lips are inches away from each other, to the point where Quinn can feel Santana’s hot breath against her cheek as acutely as she can feel the beat of her own, reckless heart. To the untrained eye, one might even suggest Santana’s own eyes stray towards Quinn’s lips, which would be an outrageous thought, if not for the fact that Quinn can recall the taste of Santana’s tongue tangling with her own as readily as she can recall her middle name; and, if Santana has half as fond a memory, then it’s perfectly within reason she might find herself similarly distracted by their present state of being.

“Come back to bed,” Quinn whispers. It's broken, pleading.

Santana falters, backs away. So much so, that Quinn almost fears she won’t abide by the request. The very thought induces a troubling ache within Quinn's chest, and she contemplates crumbling completely. That is, until a hand closes around hers, and she looks back up to find Santana watching her intently. Waiting.

“Okay.”

They fall asleep together that night. Santana is far too hot, and between the sticky flesh and the snoring, Quinn struggles to fall asleep for hours. She struggles to fall asleep, until she doesn’t. Until the stifling warmth of Santana’s body offers solace instead of suffocation. The next morning, Quinn wakes up covered in a layer of sweat, pressed into the mattress by the small, muscular body of a girl she once hated, and realises she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Years later, as Quinn watches the woman she loves sleep soundly beside her, she supposes very little has changed.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

august

Summary: August slips away and their summer fling is going to have to end.

Notes: it’s my birthday!! To celebrate here is the august story of my folklore series

AO3

For most people, all roads lead to Rome but for one Kurt Hummel, all roads lead to the mall.

First stop: coffee.

Once Kurt had secured his iced mocha, he began his window shopping. It was just so nice to walk around the air-conditioned mall.

There were plenty of middle and high schoolers wandering around with their friends. Enjoying the freedom of summertime. Kurt was pretty happy to be able to spend his summer days at the mall; almost like a relaxing vacation if it weren’t for the fear of running into old bullies and homophobes.

His dad just wanted Kurt to work a few days a week at the garage when the staff was short but with Finn there full-time, Kurt was barely needed. So, he spent his days off running errands and wandering around the Lima Mall.

There was no way for him to get lost at the mall. One, he had become very familiar with the mall having spent many weekends with his girls from glee club here. And two, it wasn’t a very large place.

Eventually, Kurt decided to splurge by getting a cinnamon pretzel and found a bench to rest. It wasn’t long until a curly-haired boy took a seat at the other end.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say hello or not. They were likely the same age. Close in age and cute. While he was debating whether or not to engage with this boy, he made the first move.

“I’m Blaine.”

He’s now facing Kurt.

“Kurt.”

They smile at each other. Kurt can feel his face getting warm.

“You here alone?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, you?”

Blaine nods. “Wanna walk together?”

Kurt holds up his half-eaten pretzel.

“Oh,” Blaine says, “that’s okay. I can just…”

Blaine moves to stand up and leave.

“No!”

It comes out louder than intended but it stops Blaine.

“I can walk and eat.”

****

They took road trips together and talked about everything except school. It was so refreshing to have something in common with another human besides McKinley High.

Blaine never said he was from Lima; Kurt suspected he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen him at school. Though, it was possible Blaine went to some private school outside of Lima. At one point, Kurt thought he might have to transfer if the bullying got too intense.

Honestly, it was just nice to have someone who understood him like Blaine did. They had so much in common from singing and acting to taste in Broadway musicals to the same favorite hate-watching shows. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was coffee.

Blaine had a strong opinion about drinking black drip coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Whereas, Kurt always got a nonfat mocha. However, they did agree hot chocolate was the superior wintertime drink to eggnog.

Blaine was willing to compromise in ways Rachel Berry never would.

So, it was no surprise to Kurt when he realized his feelings for Blaine.

Once again, Kurt Hummel was falling for a boy who wouldn’t like him back. This time it would hurt more because Blaine could like him, since he was also gay, but didn’t. Because who could love a boy like Kurt.

****

One day they were sharing a pretzel in Blaine’s car parked behind the mall as they typically did.

“Here,” he says, handing over the last piece.

Mid-chew, Blaine almost caused Kurt to choke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt swallowed.

He must’ve been blushing because his face felt hot. Blaine clearly read the look on Kurt’s face as his answer and leaned forward over the center console.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine’s lips were dusted with cinnamon sugar. He swept his tongue over Blaine’s bottom lip gathering the flakes before painting Blaine’s tongue with cinnamon.

It was an intense first kiss to say the least. Kurt had always pictured a short peck as his very first but this was better. This kiss was just a few steps away from making out.

As the weeks of summer trickled by, Blaine and Kurt spent their days texting and meeting up to make out behind the mall. They’d climb into the backseat of one of their cars and for the next hour touch any skin available. If summer was good for one thing it was exposed skin.

Blaine often wore tank tops so Kurt became very familiar with the muscle tone of his arms.

Oftentimes, Blaine was the one reaching out first. Kurt found himself waiting by the phone for a text; careful to not have permanent plans in case Blaine called. He’d canceled anything to spend time with Blaine. As far as Kurt knew they only had this summer and now it was August. How many more days would he get with Blaine?

****

One late night in August, they went stargazing. Blaine had spread blankets and pillows on the hillside and managed to secure a cheap bottle of wine courtesy of his older brother. As it turns out, Blaine didn’t know much about constellations; luckily, Kurt did.

He spent loads of nights with his mom in the backyard. She told him so many myths of the sky.

Kurt shared some with Blaine, who had interlaced their fingers. Eventually their bodies were fully pressed together. Blaine was hovering over Kurt, placing kisses along his neck.

Kurt bent his head back to give Blaine more room to cover with his lips.

Then, shirts were riding up and removed. Blaine was playing with Kurt’s zipper.

“Can I?” He asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“I’ve never done this before,” Blaine whispers.

“Me neither.”

For two boys who have never had sex and weren’t necessarily prepared to that night, it was always going to be a little sloppy. Misplaced hands, teeth clinking against each other, and nervously checking if something was okay.

When it was over, Kurt pulled a blanket to cover them. Blaine was resting his head in between Kurt’s head and shoulder breathing him in.

“I could fall asleep so easily,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt agreed with him but he was seriously contemplating a different kind of falling.

****

Summer had to come to an end. Before Kurt realized it, he was laying out an outfit for the first day of school. He and Blaine never did have a conversation about what was going to happen to them after summer vacation. In fact, Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in a few days.

He texted but went to bed without a reply.

Meanwhile, Blaine was wide awake in his own bed. He stared at the unopened text from Kurt on his phone. He could text back but he didn’t know what to say.

Sorry, I’m moving schools tomorrow.

Sorry, I lied to you all summer.

Sorry, I’m not the person you think I am.

Every single message his brain could conjure up began with an apology.

In the end, Blaine ran out of time to text him back. From a restless sleep to breakfast to rushing to get to his new school on time, he was almost able to believe Kurt hadn’t texted him at all.

As Blaine introduced himself for the first time, his eyes caught sight of people passing the door; stranglers being tardy to their first class of the day. Every person in his peripheral vision made his insides jump. They all looked like Kurt.

Except, Kurt wasn’t here. Kurt could never be here. Whatever he and Blaine had over the summer was just that—a summer thing

Blaine never thought of himself as the type for flings but Kurt was different. He’d take any time he could have with him. If three months was all he had then that was okay. He knew this last summer would stick with him for a long time.

When he closed his eyes, he was staring at Kurt’s blue ones. He could feel Kurt’s fingers dancing along his naked back with the stars watching them.

Luckily, the classes seemed to be taking it easy on the students. Going over the class schedules, future projects, and what percentage of their grade was exams and quizzes. Of course, Blaine played plenty of those ice breakers and get-to-know-you exercises.

He loved those.

By the time lunch rolled around, Blaine even had someone to sit with in the cafeteria. A nice girl named Tina sat near him in history and offered him a spot at her normal table. Blaine had mentioned wanting to join the glee club and she bounced up to him after class.

“New Directions always needs members. Sit with us at lunch and we can give you pointers for your audition.”

He met Mike, Tina’s boyfriend, Quinn, head cheerleader, and Mercedes, second lead female soloist of glee. Rachel Berry soon joined the table and sized Blaine up. She had lots of questions about his range, experience, and if he was a spy. Her boyfriend, Finn, seemed suspicious of Blaine as well. Blaine was familiar with Finn’s concerns.

The pointed glares and scowl were markers of a jealous boyfriend. Finn wasn’t worried about Blaine becoming first male lead, he didn’t want Blaine to pursue a relationship with Rachel.

This was not the first time Blaine was being mistaken for your token straight guy.

The table just kept growing. People pushing tables together and pulling empty seats. A Mohawk boy called Puck was asking Blaine about sports he liked (mainly college football) when two more cheerleaders joined them.

Brittany, the blonde, was intrigued by a new student. She had some record to keep up and asked if he wanted to sneak off somewhere to help her with it. He declined. The other, Santana, was too busy waving to someone in the distance to really notice Blaine at all.

“Porcelain, finally,” Santana says, patting the seat beside her. “Meet New Kid.”

“It’s Blaine actually,” Rachel corrected.

The boy, Porcelain, sat down and looked over at Blaine. Their eyes met and instantly widened.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

“Hi, Kurt.” Blaine watched the boy of his dreams swallow hard. “Blaine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lunch continued and no one seemed the wiser. Why would the New Directions assume the New Kid in town had already met their beloved Kurt Hummel? No one's first instinct would be that these two boys shyly watching each other would be “they spent the summer hooking up behind the mall.” Well, technically making out at the mall and hooking up in the park, just that one night.

Blaine tried to participate in conversation so as to not raise suspicion that he was staring at Kurt’s lips, which he was completely guilty of.

Once the glee kids started talking about a disaster of a party Rachel once threw, Blaine is able to tune them out in favor of his summer memories.

Sitting in the dark movie theater and bumping hands with Kurt as they reached for popcorn at the same time. Reaching over, buttered fingers and all, to grab for Kurt’s hand. Being able to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s smile as the movie flashed in front of them.

Lost in his daydream, Blaine didn’t hear the bell ring until Kurt tapped his hand, which was stretched out almost in the middle of the table.

“Hey, time to get to class,” Kurt tells him, “walk with me?”

“Okay.” Blaine gathered his books and trash.

“Where to?” Kurt asks.

“Crafts actually.”

“Oh, that’s just down the hall here.” Kurt guides them through the crowds. “Thanks for not spilling everything to them today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our summer together.” Kurt’s blushing. “It was special.”

“To me too,” Blaine assures. “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I don’t really know those guys yet. I’m new remember?”

Kurt nods. “Not new to me though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Blaine chuckles.

They reach Blaine’s art classroom.

“I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt says.

“Okay.”

Blaine only lets Kurt take a few steps before he’s touching his hand. “Wait.”

Kurt is staring at their joined hands and examining the hallway before meeting Blaine’s eyes. No one else is paying them any attention.

There are so many words Blaine wants to say to Kurt.

Be with me. Please. Be mine.

Don’t leave. Don’t slip away.

Stay, stay, stay.

Instead, he steps closer to Kurt and cups his face with his other hand. Kurt leans into the touch. Blaine gives the hallway one last look but it’s almost empty. The late bell will ring soon so he can’t waste any more time.

Blaine leans forward and pecks Kurt.

“Please,” he murmurs, against his lips.

Not even sure what he’s asking Kurt for exactly. Kurt seems to know what he means without needing more information or clearer words than a simple ‘please.’

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and pulls their bodies close together and opens Blaine’s mouth with his tongue.

There’s a bell ringing, which Blaine thinks must be his own form of fireworks.

“If you two are quite done, there’s a class happening,” Blaine’s crafts teacher tells them.

They pull apart instantly, red in the face from being scolded, Kurt hurries off to his own class. Blaine does another round of introductions and can’t remember anyone’s name but Kurt Hummel.