#and the vodka is looking hella intriguing right now.....

[regrettablewritings]

Okii now we can move onto . . .

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: You both did out of curiosity. You’d been watching videos on Youtube and TikTok about bizarre cocktails and candy absorbancy and morbid intrigue crawled into your minds. However, you were both just a tad too blitzed and tired to make your way to the bodega down the block, so you had to make do with whatever you found after rifling through the cabinets and the pantry. And that was a pack of peach rings, an unopened box of Mike & Ikes that was probably past its sell by date, and an opened, stale pack of Peeps that most definitely was passed said sell by date. You couldn’t quite focus enough to try and locate the expiration stamp, but you were willing to bet it had long since cartwheeled over that line. Ah, well: Adventure waits for no bitch. You nuked those neon blue bastards for good measure, hoping that the expansion meant it would take on more vodka. It did not. Not really. It was more like a gross-ass sponge by the end of the little experiment, and the pure sugar of it was enough to make your teeth rattle in your skulls. Suffice to say, curiosity killed the cat and knowledge brought it back. But the vodka-soaked Peeps laid you both back down when your hangovers came rocketing in the following morning.

Who forgot to put the cat outside before sex?: First thing’s first, he’s not exactly your cat. Frank is (you’re both pretty sure) just some stray whom you both have taken a liking to. Enough to feed pieces of lunch meat and water, and keep your window open just a smidge to let himself whenever the weather demanded so. Which, in turn, made Frank take a liking to you both. Given that he still liked to leave and take strolls about the area, you presumed he didn’t necessarily see your apartment as his territory per se. This was incorrect, and a dubious failure on both parts. You came to learn this when in a rather, ahem, entangling position, you heard what you could only describe as “the bordest meow you ever though a cat could muster without sounding like Squidward”. You both froze, panting stilling as your eyes widened in unison. You both turned to the source of the sound, of whom had been happily lounging in the window, nearly obscured by the flimsy curtains you’d insisted upon putting up when you moved in. In your heated moment, though, he might as well have been completely invisible; and he sure must’ve felt that way, given that your noisy affair had woken him from a pleasant nap! And God did y’all wish you were invisible. Well . .  at least you had the blanket over the both of you.

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: It’s never out of malice, but Dinah has a habit of recording you when you get a little tipsy. You’re the quieter of the two of you, so seeing what happens when you get a little liquid courage in you is always a riot for her. She loves when you try and sing or dance, even if she, in her drunken state, probably couldn’t do much better. That being said, though, I don’t think she’d actually post them unless she had your permission. You both know you would be far from the stupidest-looking bitch on the app, but it’s still a sign of trust and respect to ask for your consent on the matter. Plus, getting hella views is always sweeter when you both are in on it.

Who breaks the most phones?: Dinah, if only because sometimes she forgets her phone in her pocket while slipping in a hint of Canary Wail. And also because she tends to kick a lot while fighting, and those skin-tight pants just aren’t made for holding anything thicker than an atom apparently.

Who dies first?: Dinah hated this fuckass town. It was a hotbed of crime, it was grimy, and overall she just had a right to not like it. But she stayed out of financial limitations and of obligation: After all, what would her mother think? “We don’t fly away from our problems, Dinah,” the late Dinah Lance Sr. had told her many times when she was a wee chick. And Gotham was, unfortunately, a big problem for her. Thankfully, you sympathized with her distaste of the place. It might not have been as particularly ripe as her own, but your support was noted and appreciated. You didn’t see it as “flying away from a problem” if you were to move: “It’s just flying south for the winter. But for real,” you reasoned. It seemed so dumb to put it that way, but you could’ve sold Dinah aluminum siding on a log cabin and she would’ve bought it. That was just the sort of partnership you had. Unfortunately, Gotham was envious. That you didn’t even get the dignity of dying of old age or at least surrounded by loved ones instead of in the middle of a street by a stray bullet shattered Dinah’s core. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t cry. She just . . . couldn’t compute. And worst yet: She couldn’t leave. You were buried in Gotham, amongst so many criminals and dregs of society. But there were also innocents in there. So many, and yet so few, all consumed by the dirty maw of a city that didn’t care enough to keep them safe. Keep you safe. Dinah couldn’t leave; she didn’t trust them to take care of you, your final resting place. She could just imagine the stupid hooligans perching their filthy asses on your tombstone -- something she had to throw so much money on just to assure that there was something noting your existence in this unfair city -- and chugging 40s and rolling blunts, the dry contents spilling into the bouquets she would try to bring by every couple of weeks. Or the groundskeeper skipping town, leaving your grave to become overgrown with weeds. Or God knows what else. You being gone was a problem; she couldn’t fly away from you.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Dinah. She tries to abide by her bodily limitations, but lower-income areas tend to be food deserts that can’t exactly spare highfalutin alternatives like soy or rice or almond. Worst-case scenario, she just has to completely forgo the dairy option and get her calcium intake in other ways.

Who thinks they can do something really well but even though they can’t?: You think you can handle Dinah’s baby (aka her car). You . . . cannot. That bitch is a stick and as much as you’d like to think you can conquer her, Dinah’s baby ain’t havin’ it. Nor is Dinah, in spite of your protests and insisting that you can get it down.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Neither. Even when she comes home late for one reason or another, Dinah’s usually too butt-tired to cause any shenanigans worth getting kicked out for. Same goes for you. You two may move around a lot in your sleep, but nobody gets literally kicked out of bed, either.

Who uses the computer the most?: You do, mainly because Dinah’s a workaholic for a job that doesn’t even use computers. Even when she’s home, she barely uses the laptop -- why did she even buy it, again?? Don’t ask her, she hasn’t the foggiest clue!

Thank you for participating and thank you for your patience!

[tevivinter]

For DWC! Pairing of your choice for the college/university AU: "you live above me and I’m going to murder you if you don’t stop throwing parties Sunday night"

I couldn’t finish this in time for DWC but I wouldn’t be able to wait until next week to post! Thanks @luzial​ for the ask, I love these modern AUs so much :D

----

It had been only three weeks ever since someone moved into the room above his own. Not even a full month and this person, whoever it was, had already managed to turn his weekends into shit. Marel threw the pillow over his head in an attempt to hush the damn noise coming from above. No matter what he did - whether it was putting on headphones or even bumping the ceiling with a broom - nothing could change the fact that sleeping on Sunday nights felt like an impossible task to do.

“Hey, pissbag!” Sera, his roommate, yelled from the upper half of their bunk bed. “We’re friggin’ trying to sleep here!”

Marel’s voice came out like a muffled grumble from under the pillow. “They can’t hear you.”

“Ugh,” she groaned in frustration. Sera stared at the ceiling for a moment, considering. “We should really prank that guy. Bet he couldn’t do any parties that way.”

Marel took the pillow off his head with a frown. “You know who’s up there?”

“One of the popular ones,” she shrugged. “His dad is rich or something. Bet they’re both asses.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dorian, I guess. Pff, you really don’t know shit about him.”

“How should I-” Just when Marel began to answer, the roaring sound of music somehow became even louder. The beats thumped incessantly in his ears, loud enough to make him feel like the room was goddamn shaking. Marel tightened his fists. “You know what- fuck this.”

Sera sticked her head off the upper mattress once she heard the sound of footsteps in the dark. She quickly caught the sight of Marel reaching for the doorknob. “Tell him to piss off for me, yeah?”

He glanced at her before opening the door. “Gladly.”

Marel let out an annoyed groan as soon as he walked outside the room. He didn’t bother to change his flannel sweatpants nor the oversized shirt that he wore for sleep. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put some slippers on because he was pretty sure it was at least 2am and he just wanted to sleep. Marel crossed the corridor easily enough even while in the dark. He only used his phone light to go up the stairs, putting it back into his pocket as soon as he got there.

It didn’t take long for Marel to find what he looked for. The room just above his own had plenty of colorful lights leaking from underneath its door. The noise was somehow even worse on the second floor, which made Marel wonder why the heck no one else had complained about it yet. He approached the room with furrowed brows and knocked.

But no one answered. Fucking Creators. Marel took a deep breath before closing his fist tighter to knock once again, hitting the wood with more force. He was already counting the seconds for the third knock, and gods help him if no one listened this time--

The door suddenly creaked open, revealing a flash of colorful light that felt utterly blinding in contrast to the dark corridor. Marel instantly winced in response, raising one hand to his eye level to block some of the brightness towards his face.

The man who answered the door was impeccably dressed. His dark purple shirt was a perfect fit for his body without being too tight, and the fact that he had at least one button undone was distracting to say the least. His black pants looked expensive as well as his shoes - in fact, his entire outfit looked like something worthy of a movie star. But his clothes alone were not the reason why Marel went speechless for a second.

Marel cursed at himself for feeling his cheeks growing hotter by the second. “You're making too much noise," he finally said. "It's pissing me off."

He never expected that guy to be so damn handsome, for fuck’s sake. Marel simply found himself unable to look away from his face, swallowing.

"Well? Can I help you?" The stranger asked, arching one dark brow at him.

"Truly?" The man asked in what appeared to be genuine surprise.

Marel frowned. "You seriously thought that no one would hear this shit?"

"Who's there, Dorian?" A female voice came from inside the room.

Dorian looked over his shoulder, still holding the door half open. "It's only an unexpected guest, Mae. I'll be back in a moment." Just when he was about to step out, he added: "Oh, and turn the music down, will you? We so happen to be bothering our neighbors."

And with that he looked at Marel once again. "Well then. Do you have a minute?"

Marel took a second to realize that he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back with a confused expression, not bothering to say anything.

The stranger turned the corridor lights on as soon as he stepped out of the room. "Let's start again, shall we?"

Now that they could properly see each other, Marel couldn't help but stare into the stormy grey eyes ahead of him. Something about those eyes seemed to pull him in, and Marel swallowed silently once he realized that guy was not only handsome - he was fucking breathtaking. 

Marel slipped his hands into his pockets, once more muttering silent curses to himself. "I'm not exactly here to chat."

"I know, which is why I'll make things brief." Dorian managed a small smile that lifted the edges of his moustache just a bit. "Truth be told, I was quite sure that my room had soundproof walls until this very moment. I did ask for it before moving here."

"Really? A soundproof room?" Marel scoffed. "You realize clubs are a thing, right?"

Hearing that made him frown slightly. "If only things were that simple.” There was a hint of resentment in his tone, Marel noticed, but it soon faded away with a small shook of his head. “In any case, I owe you my apologies. I had no clue I was bothering other people.”

It was becoming increasingly harder to stay mad at Dorian, mostly because his words sounded pretty honest. Still, the fact that no one even thought to knock at his door for three weeks made Marel intrigued. “So no one else came here to complain before me?”

“You are the first one. Shocking, isn’t it?” Dorian crossed his arms while casually leaning against the wall. “The other students - I assume they are most likely to be afraid of my father. How foolish of them,” he waved dismissingly. “But now that I’ve mentioned it...” He looked at Marel again with a certain curiosity in his gaze. “You don’t happen to know who I am, do you?”

Marel shrugged. “My roommate said you are a rich guy named Dorian.” A pause. “By the way, she told you to piss off.”

Somehow the comment made Dorian chuckle humorously. “She’s not entirely wrong, I’m afraid. It seems I should apologize to her as well.”

Marel couldn’t help a small smile at that. “You probably should. Wouldn’t want to see her angry,” he suggested.

“What about you?” Dorian asked, looking at Marel up and down in an attempt to recognize him. “I don’t recall seeing you around. What is your name?”

Somehow Marel had managed to completely forget that he was still in his pajamas up until that moment. He was probably looking like a clown with his red flannel sweatpants and old blue shirt. Hell, he didn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his undercut was a complete mess too. In the meantime Dorian looked dashing in every possible way, which made him feel more than just a little self conscious.

He glanced down for a moment while wishing to bury his head on the ground. “I’m Marel,” he muttered.

“Marel? I believe I’ve heard some things about you.” That earned him a questioning look, one that made Dorian chuckle once more. “But don’t worry. I’m not one to believe in mindless gossip.”

Being aware of his own reputation, Marel almost sighed in relief after knowing that Dorian didn’t care for any of that. People often thought of him as a troublemaker for numerous reasons, up to the point that he was already used to it by now. Still, it felt refreshing not to be judged at first sight.

“Me neither.” The music had already stopped by then, leaving the two of them in silence. Marel took his hands off his pockets. “I... think I should get back to sleep.”

Dorian nodded. “Naturally.” He watched for a moment as Marel began to walk his way to the stairs. “Oh, and Marel?”

Marel looked back at him, stopping when he was just about to step down. “What?”

“Do feel free to stop by if you ever want to have a few drinks.” Dorian smiled as he opened the door. “You should invite your roommate as well - I hear vodka is a wonderful way to apologize.”

The corners of his mouth involuntarily twitched into a smile. Marel let out a breathless chuckle, glad to be far away so that Dorian couldn’t see him blush. ��I’ll see you around, Dorian.”

The lights were on when Marel returned to his room. Sera didn’t even wait for him to properly enter before practically leaping at his direction. “The music stopped. Just- stopped! How did you do that?” She questioned, eyeing him suspiciously for a second. “Did you find that Dori-whatever?”

“Yeah.” Marel closed the door, not minding the way she interrogated him. “Turns out he’s not an ass.”

“Really?” Sera asked, stepping away to allow him to move towards his bed. “Because he looked like richy-ass type to me.”

There was a slight creak of wood when Marel laid on his bed. He turned his body to face the wall. “He said that I- we,” he quickly corrected, “could join him for a drink sometime.”

It didn’t take long before Sera had a mischievous grin on her face. “Ohhh.” That made him roll his eyes. “You think he’s hot, innit?”

She giggled when Marel threw a pillow in her direction, dodging it with ease. “Missed it, dumbass.” She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was embarrassed.

“Go get some sleep,” Marel grumbled.

“Alright, but only because it’s hella late.” Sera turned the lights off and proceeded to effortlessly hop into the upper bed. A moment of silence went by before she spoke again. “Try not to dream of him, yeah?”

Marel groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Sera-”

She giggled one last time before finally falling asleep.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

CR NEWS Bill

Maybe if I just ignore them, they’ll go away. After five minutes, I decide this probably isn’t the best plan. Especially since they can literally see me through the window.

“MOTHERFUCKERS!” I yell as I swing open the door and my PR team hustles inside, nearly knocking my drink out of my hand.

“Are you really drunk at 10am on a Tuesday?” Melissa the lead PR tyrant asks me.

“Two guesses, first one doesn’t count. And for your information .... yes.” I giggle. I keep a steady buzz on the daily.

“What happens today?” A short red head I haven’t seen before demands.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snap.

She blushes and lowers her eyes. Good.

“Be nice! This is Mandy. She’s new, and I’m sure you remember Tristain, Melissa says gesturing towards her slim British assistant.

“So why are you here? As great as it is to catch up, I was trying to be a degenerate and you’re fucking it all up with the judging.” I say as I light a cigarette and head out to the backyard.

It’s a nice day so I think I’ll swim.

“You have that interview in three hours with CR News. The guy interviewing you is really hot too.”

I strip nude and hear Mandy gasp. I turn around and wink at her before diving in the pool. When I come back up Melissa and Mandy are whisper arguing while tristain picks at his nails.

“Has she never seen a naked woman before? I’m told I’m one of the best, so you’re welcome Mandy.”

“Girl you are out of control.” Tristain chuckles.

Mandy storms outside as Melissa turns to me, hands on hips “what did I say about nudity.”

“We are not in public.”

“Let’s add on that you can’t get nude in front of anyone you just met.”

“There goes my sex life.”

“You’re impossible! We are here to make sure you’re ready, on time and sober. That last little stunt you pulled can’t happen again.”

Of course she’s referring to the award show i went to last week in a see through dress. Considering I’m a Victoria’s Secret model, I thought showing everyone my underwear was ideal, but some of the other companies I model for weren’t as enthusiastic.

“Do you seriously think I’d go on a news program in something see through?”

She raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “We brought you some beautiful outfits to choose from and Tristain is ready to do your hair and make-up. You just need to relax and —“

“Be you’re good little Barbie.” I roll my eyes but allow them to lead me in my house and get me all ready.

CR news is supposedly a new up and coming show. It’s mainly focused on men I think but I’m not positive. I’ve honestly never watched it. I’ve heard that the interviewer is pretty unpredictable and gorgeous which is intriguing.

We are all loaded in the limo, on our way to the studio when I realize Tristain is a liar...

“Where’s the booze? You said there was hella liquor in here, is there like a trick door or..”

“Baby girl, you’re gonna be sober for this interview. Well. Soberish.”

“I thought you were my boy blue? What happened to us? When did it fall apart?” I tease. I’m not really mad, I get it, but dammit, I really don’t have anything to take the edge off?

We pull up to the studio and my stomach is in knots. I drink for my social anxiety. Although I am supposedly one of the most beautiful women in the world, and I parade around nude like it’s nothing, it’s all overcompensating for being afraid of meeting new people. I know it’s ridiculous, but that doesn’t change how nervous I feel.

I get out and follow everyone inside, where I’m taken to a dressing room. Hair and make up people are in there waiting, but I’m already all ready so they just do a once over and tell me I have an hour till everything starts.

“This is why I’m never on time, let alone early.” I bemoan my predicament.

A cute little girl is there looking at me like I’m Jesus, so I say hi and she begins to tear up.

“Oh my god sweetie! Why are you crying?” I say as I make my way over to her and open my arms for a hug. I hate seeing people cry. “Was someone mean to you?”

“No, I just can’t believe it’s you! I am your biggest fan. I think you’re so beautiful, but all the charity work you do is so important and the media tries to make you out like this hot mess but you just don’t care what anyone thinks of you and that’s so inspiring for so many girls out there!” She says as she falls into my arms, clinging to me like a magnet.

See shit like this is why I need a drink. I can never let my fans down complaining about anxiety. When I first got in the business, one of the party girls took me under her wing and we went out, and I was so nervous I got drunk. Of course it was all captured by the paparazzi and I was forever dubbed a wild child. But somehow I am an inspiration and an expert at giving no fucks, which I do standby. so I just maintain that image, eventhough most of the time I’m terrified. Therefore I’ve been drunk pretty steady since last March. Well not drunk, buzzed. I try not to get drunk cuz then I do the dumbest shit, and a lot of it involves nudity.

“You are the cutest sweetest thing! Thank you! That seriously means a lot! Do you want some pictures or autographs?”

“Oh my gosh! Please?”

“Turn on your Instagram and we will make a story.” I mean I have an hour, might as well. The poor girl looks like she’s gonna faint. “You know what? Hair and make up, you’re here. Do her, so she looks her best and then we’ll make a cute video!”

Hair and make up shrug their shoulders and sit the girl down and get to work.

“I need a drink!” I moan.

“Water, coffee, tea, juice-“ one of the assistants starts rattling off.

“I’ll take juice if you’ve got some vodka.” I tell her, and can literally see her judging me. Yuck!

“I’m sorry but we are a smoke free, alcohol free, drug free facility. We judge sinful vices very harshly here.” She states snarkyly.

I turn around and fix my coldest glare on her, and it doesn’t take her more than a few seconds to excuse herself. Probably gonna go tell on me to my babysitters.

“My big brother probably has some.” The fangirl suggests. “He’s just two doors down on the right.”

“Ooh. Think he’ll take pity on me? What’s his name?”

She looks at me like I’m kidding, but it’s pretty clear by my clueless face, I’m serious.

“He’s Bill Skarsgard. He’s interviewing you. I’ll text him.”

She pulls her phone out and texts him, and almost immediately replies. “He says come to his room real quick.”

“Oh my God! I’m your biggest fan now.” I smile at her and quickly make my way to his door and knock. I didn’t want to be seen going in the room with him, so I wasn’t really thinking about meeting him as much as getting out of the hall. When the door opened, I rushed through and closed it, when I am sll of a sudden all too aware of the best looking motherfucker I have ever seen in my life. I’m at least six foot in these heels and he’s still a considerable amount taller than me. He smells really nice but his god damn face is almost upsetting. He’s got the greenest eyes and sharp angles from the best bone structure like he’s the damn model. His angular features are contrasted by some of the softest looking puffy lips and the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach up and boop him on the nose “boop.” OH. MY. GOD. What have I done?

He blushes and smiles and oh my fuck he’s got dimples. We just stand there smiling and staring at each other like complete assholes but my mind has been overloaded with all his fucking hotness, so I got nothing.

His phone beeps and snaps us out of our awkward staring contest. “Thank you for being so nice to Valerie. You have no clue how excited she was to meet you.”

I still got nothing. I’m looking at his hands and then back up to his face. He was big pretty hands and I wish I was in them.

“Is belvedere ok?” He asks me holding up a brand new big bottle of vodka.

I nod and watch him walk over to a little bar area and make two drinks with his beautiful big hands. They wrap around the bottle and it almost looks as though it’s not the large size bottle but it is. He puts ice in the glass and fills it half way. He walks confidently over to me, and I feel like my legs are going to give out, but I don’t show it. I’m an expert at faking self assuredness. He hands me the drink and holds it up. “Let’s make a toast to new funny beginnings. Cheers!”

I clink my glass to his and then down all the vodka in one shot. He raises his eyebrows and chuckles, taking my glass and refilling it. He hands it back to me expectantly and I take a polite sip. “Just had to take the edge off.”

“She speaks! I was getting nervous you didn’t know how to be anything but adorable.”

“That’s my job. Your job requires talking.” I want to slap myself. I sound so rude and dumb but he seems to be amused with my reply.

“Valid point. I must say though, I’m surprised. From how the media makes you out to be, I was expecting a hurricane.”

“I guess that makes you a shitty weather man then.” God damn you liquid courage, and bless you. He’s actually blushing.

“I knew it was going to be a hot one.”

“Did you now?”

“Mmhmm.” He says as he lowers his face and looks through lidded eyes at me.

Then he bites his lip and slowly releases the damn thing and for the first time in my life, I think I wanna suck a dick. Don’t get me wrong, ive done that plenty of times, but to be nice. Never have I ever thought “I wanna choke on this guys cock’ until today. I feel my face heating up as he closes the distance between us and puts his hand on my cheek locking his eyes with mine.

A little voice in the back of my head warns me that being this attracted to someone is not great but I ignore it. Fuck it.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He breathes seductively. He sets down his drink and pulls me close, pressing his body against me. “Now we cant mess up how perfect you look or hair and make up will kill me, but when we are done with that interview, we are coming back in here and it’s gonna be really really wet.”

Gif : @billksarsgard

[klaineanummel]

Story of My Life 17/24?

Kurt reflects on the past twelve years of his life, coming to realize that one man in particular has affected him far more than he ever thought he would

Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I know I'm hella behind, and I'm sorry about that. I am hoping to get another chapter written tonight after work, and then I am off until the first week of January, so I should have more time to get some writing done. My goal is still to finish this story by the 24th of December, but I guess we'll see how that goes!

This is for the @klaineadvent prompt "Raw". It's always so nice when prompts work so nicely with what I have planned... :) Minor warnings for a bit of angst (not related to Klaine), Kurt/Elliott, and minor mentions of Blaine/Trent. Also, I'm sorry that Blaine hasn't been in it as much lately. I promise he has a huge role in the next chapter!

Hope you and enjoy, and I will hopefully see you all later today :)

Attachment   |   Bucket |    Collapse   |   Drink   |   Example   |   Fraction   |   Genuine   |   Health   |   Inch   |   Judgement |   Key   |   Mist   |   Nose   |   Orgy  |   Perform   |

Read on AO3

October 7th, 2020

Kurt knows that this is hard for Cooper. He’s never really been comfortable with the idea of Tina and Quinn dating, even though he puts on a brave face, and so it isn’t really surprising to Kurt that Tina and Quinn getting engaged would push him over the limit a little. Kurt gets it, he completely understands, he knows that Cooper’s reaction is completely rational.

He’s still annoyed as hell that he’s missing his friend’s engagement party because Cooper can’t stop crying.

He doesn’t even understand why Cooper came to the party at all. Nobody would have judged him for skipping out. After all, Kurt can’t imagine going to any of his ex-boyfriend’s engagement parties (even Chandler, and he only dated that guy for like, two months his freshman year).

But, no. He had to put on a brave face and show up to the party, only to get so trashed that he has no control over his emotions.

“I’m just stuck,” Cooper sobs, cuddled close to Kurt in Tina and Quinn’s spare bedroom. “Everyone is moving on, getting amazing opportunities, and I’m just… here. I’m living in the same apartment I lived in during college, I’m still getting secondary roles in the same theater troupe I’ve been in since graduation, and I’m still in love with the same fucking girl I’ve been in love with since my Freshman year of college.” He lets out another forlorn sob. “What is it with us Anderson’s? Why are we so hung up on our first loves?”

Kurt wants to interject that actually Blaine is well and over his crush on Kurt, as he has been steadily dating Trent for over six months now, and the two have been talking about moving in together. In fact, Blaine brought Trent to the party tonight. He’s never brought a boyfriend to a friend hang-out before (though, to be fair, as far as Kurt can tell Blaine hasn’t exactly had tons of boyfriend’s).

He doesn’t think that will help Cooper, so he just pats his back and says, “You’re not stuck, Cooper. You have plenty going on in your life.”

“Like what?” Cooper asks, practically shouting. Kurt winces at the strong scent of vodka on his breath. “Like, my super awesome girlfriend? Oh, wait, I don’t have one of those, just a stupid crush on Rachel that I can’t get over, and an ex-girlfriend who just got engaged to my best friend. An amazing job? Nope! I couldn’t even get my troupe to consider me for Mercutio, Kurt. Mercutio. Nice, stable family? Wrong again, my parent’s got divorced when I was seven, mom and John-Mark never come to New York, and I barely even see Blaine anymore because he’s always with his boyfriend.” Cooper bursts into a fresh round of sobs, and Kurt sighs.

Kurt glances at the door, wondering how much longer it’ll be before Elliott decides he’s been gone too long and comes to rescue him. He briefly considers trying to surreptitiously text him, but knows that Cooper would notice.

“And,” Cooper continues, as if he never stopped, “everybody else has an amazing life. Rachel has a lead role off-Broadway, but we all know Take Me Home is going to be taken to Broadway soon. Sam and Mercedes are married, own a business together, and just told us that Mercedes is two months pregnant, which is awesome, so great, I’m so happy for them. Tina and Quinn are engaged and both have awesome jobs. Blaine hasn’t even graduated college yet and he already has more prospects for roles than I ever had. And you, you’re like, Mr. Successful, with your junior writer job, and your awesome boyfriend – who somehow has a high-up office job and a kick-ass band. I mean, you’ll probably get married soon, and then it’ll just be me. Lonely Cooper, watching as all my friend’s move on with their lives while I’m just stuck.”

Kurt really doesn’t know what to say. Cooper has been rambling about this same thing for almost an hour now, and Kurt has been as reassuring as he possibly can that Cooper is not stuck, that things will happen for him, that he’ll meet someone, that blah-blah-blah. He glances at the door again, willing it to open.

He almost falls over in relief when, moments later, it actually does. Blaine peeks in, and Kurt almost cries in relief.

“Hey,” he greets. “Need a break?”

Cooper doesn’t even seem to notice that Blaine has joined them, instead continuing to sob into Kurt’s shoulder.

“Please,” Kurt mouths, causing Blaine to chuckle. He heads over to the bed, sliding in on Cooper’s other side, and pulling his head off of Kurt’s shoulder and onto his own.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, an arm going around Cooper’s shoulder and squeezing tight. “How you doing?”

“Blaine,” Cooper sobs, throwing his arms around his brother. “Blaine, I’m drunk, and Quinn is getting married, and she’s getting married to Tina, and I’m just stuck, I’m stuck Blaine.”

“No, you’re not,” Blaine says, tightening his hold on Cooper. He glances at Kurt over Cooper’s head and gestures at him to leave as he continues saying, “You’re not stuck, Cooper, I promise.”

Cooper starts in on the spiel Kurt just heard, and so Kurt mouths a quick, “Thank you,” to Blaine before carefully slipping out of the room.

He takes a moment to collect himself, trying to leave his annoyance (and, to be honest, guilt over said annoyance) in the room with Cooper. He straightens his clothes out, runs a hand through his hair, then heads back to Quinn and Tina’s living room, where the party is taking place.

Elliott is by his side as soon as he enters the room, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I see Blaine’s rescue mission went well,” he grins, pressing a kiss to Kurt’ s forehead. “How’s Cooper doing?”

“I think he’s just feeling a bit raw about all this,” he gestures toward Quinn and Tina, who are chatting happily with Trent. He looks up at Elliott, then asks, “How’s it been out here?”

“Oh, you know,” Elliott rolls his eyes a little. “Just being teased about how we’re going to be the next down the aisle, when am I going to propose, when are you going to propose, all that crap.”

Kurt can’t help but let out a laugh at that. “Cooper said that too,” he shakes his head. “Like, nobody thinks it’s a little soon for us to be thinking about that?”

“Apparently we are the only ones,” Elliott confirms. Kurt smiles up at him, feeling relieved that Elliott doesn’t think they’re ready for that either. “Although,” Elliott continues, leaning in a little closer to Kurt. “I was thinking that maybe we could talk about the possibility about another big step in our relationship?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, intrigued, and teasing says, “You better not be talking about sex, because if you don’t remember that already happening…”

Elliott smirks. “Oh, I definitely remember that happening,” he squeezes at Kurt’s hip lightly, causing Kurt to grin. “Actually, though,” he says, tone far more serious. “I was talking about moving in together.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “Really?” he asks, heart speeding up happily. “For real, you want to live together? Like, as boyfriends?”

Elliott presses his lips together, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing. “No, Kurt, I would like us to break up, go back to being just friends, and then move in together.”

Kurt scowls. “You don’t have to be so sassy.”

Elliott pinches his side and says, “Yes, as boyfriends, you dork. What do you think?”

Kurt can’t help but smile, despite the teasing. “I think that I can’t believe you’re asking me this here, at our friend’s engagement party, after I just spent an hour consoling another friend who is desperately distraught over everybody’s lives moving forward while his doesn’t.” Elliott looks shocked for a moment, and Kurt lets him revel in it, before saying, “But I also think that yes, moving in together would be amazing.”

“Really?” Elliott asks, grin taking over his face.

“Yes, really! Let’s move in together!”

Elliott wraps him up in a hug, spinning him around so that his feet actually leave the ground. Kurt laughs, but lets him, ignoring the strange looks that their friends are sending them. He knows it’s probably rude to cause such a scene at his friends’ engagement party, but he can’t help it.

Despite how annoyed he was only minutes ago, right now, he is so damn happy.

Part Eighteen: Stir