#cxrsonphillips

[mrchriscolfer]

[ 📲 • sms ] —— i want to mark you as mine; that’s why i’ve been sharpening my nails.

Incoming text from FluffyButt -  i want to mark you as mine; that’s why i’ve been sharpening my nails.

[text]: Kinky.

[text]: If I’m not screaming bloody murder by the time you’re done with me, I’ll question just how much you actually want me. And I can also go find Hedwig if you don’t follow through, Sir.

[mrchriscolfer]

Headlights

SEND “HEADLIGHTS” TO PICK MY MUSE UP OFF THE SIDE OF THE ROAD ON A DARK NIGHT.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t such an asshole,” Kurt is saying, slumped down in the front passenger seat, swirling the contents of a whiskey bottle around and watching the street lights reflect off the golden liquid inside almost as if in a trance. “Sometimes I wish you would actually want me for me instead of what I have between my legs.”

“Not my fault what you’ve got gets me going, and is still silky after all these years,” Cash argues which has Kurt rolling his eyes.

“Can’t you take me on a date or something romantic like that?” 

He regrets asking, because the car pulls over on the side of the road forcing them both to look at each other without fear of a collision. “We aren’t dating. We’re fucking. Or at least we were.” Cash hits the unlock button. “Until you relearn our agreement, you can walk from here.”

“It’s dark out!”

“Congratulations, the sun has gone down. You’re very observant. Get out.”

Mouth gaping, Kurt takes a few seconds just to stare, dumbfounded, at the asshole he had fallen for. It was stupid really. He deserved better than this pathetic kid he had been friends with since childhood. Which is why he splashed the left over whiskey in Cash’s face before getting out, giving the door a good hard slam, then standing there to watch the car disappear into the night. It was relatively cold for Ohio in the spring, so he couldn’t help a shiver as he reaches for his phone to send a quick text to the only person he knew would come for him.

It took maybe twenty minutes before the headlights appeared and the rickety old car pulled over. He had to force himself to put on a strong face, since he wasn’t one to show he had been crying. Especially over his rescuers twin brother. Although it was obvious that he didn’t need to say a thing, the look on Carson’s face was saying enough. He didn’t have to say a thing.

“Thank you,” is all he manages to get out, weakly but still. Arms folding, he slinks down in his seat, ignoring Carson’s judgmental sigh beside him as they pull away from the side of the road.

[mrchriscolfer]

"Come back to bed"

send me “come back to bed” for my muses reaction to yours asking them to

Kurt couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut up and no matter how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t find a position that worked without feeling tension somewhere in his body that drew paranoia of a muscle being pulled or his back going out. It wasn’t easy, caring for a life that you yourself were harboring inside your body. And the bigger he got, the more uncomfortable and difficult sleep became. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that within hours of tossing and turning, he gave up and was wandering from his bedroom and into the kitchen to get something to snack on. 

It wasn’t a common night without Burt in the house. But seeing as there was an emergency with one of their neighbors cars and something about a broken tail bone, Burt had volunteered himself for the night to take care of the guy leaving Kurt and the just-about adopted Carson alone in the house. It was 3 in the morning, and all was quiet with the exception of Kurt’s snacking on a container of pretzels. 

The soft padding of feet on carpet on the stair perked Kurt up slightly, his paranoia immediately going to a possible burglary, but the sight of the other male standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall calmed Kurt’s spirits down.

“What the hell are you doing up?” Carson’s voice is rough from just waking up himself and Kurt has to fight a smile at the sound of it, “come back to bed.”

“We got hungry,” Kurt replies curtly, taking another pretzel out and stuffing it into his mouth to further the point, only to reach for another one. A hand was soon on his globe of a stomach, and a mouth was against his neck causing Kurt to lean into the touch.

“It can wait until a decent time,” Carson grumbles against Kurt’s neck, although his fingers slipping under the night shirt to touch skin, sending goosebumps cascading across Kurt’s arms, told him Carson had really been concerned and probably hadn’t been sleeping all that well himself. “Please, let’s go back to bed. If I don’t get my hours in, I get cranky.”

“You’re always cranky.”

“Crankier then.”

Kurt smirks, stuffing another pretzel into his mouth, but the point is across and he’s closing the container and setting it on the counter. He needs help to stand from the stool, but Carson keeps him steady until they’re out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Its only when they’re back in Kurt’s bed, having been sharing for the night under the pretense of Carson wanting to be the first alerted when Kurt went into labor, that Kurt allows his walls to remain down for the sake of Carson’s protective hand on his stomach. Even if they weren’t keeping the kid, it was the little moments he was soaking in that was proving his plan to fall in love with the idiot had failed and he was completely fucked.

[mrchriscolfer]

“Looks like I just landed on the prettiest person on the room.”

A faint blush painted Verena’s cheeks, and the butterflies swept through her belly which was so much better then the usual nervous nausea she got from guys coming up and talking to her. "Damn right you have,” she grins, turning her body on the bar stool to better face the green haired Irishman, “what’s your name, honey? Let me buy you a drink.”

[mrchriscolfer]

“So are we getting high, or what?”

It had bee a long day. A long day of lugging heavy equipment on and off stages, pulling the lead singer away from bar stools, and breaking up yet another verbal attack from the same said lead singer against her band mates. Seriously, after this Kurt Hummel had decided he deserved a well deserved vacation from the whole rock band life. His ears were still ringing from the last performance and his bed sounded so inviting that he about left the equipment for the Angry Inch to take care of themselves for a bottle of Smirnoff and a bed. Only the voice of Hedwig stopped him.

“So are we getting high, or what?”

Leaning against the wall, his neck rolling back as he let out an obvious irritated groan. It sounded so inviting. He needed to relax. Every muscle was sore and he needed to take the load of the day off every ache that radiated throughout his body. “I’d thought you’d never ask,” comes his reply, turning his body to better face her as she comes in to lean against him, arms slipping eagerly around his waist. “But I have to finish my chores.” A jerk of his head towards the left over equipment has Hedwig snorting.

“Yitz can handle that. He’s no fun getting high with. Kind of a downer. Doesn’t take his pants off as quickly as you.” She presses a finger against his chest, a sly grin enticing him to easily fall into line when she hooked her fingers into his belt loops and led him away from the main hall and towards the hotel room they’d be sharing. “Mama needs to relax, and you’re the only one I feel like squeezing into my agenda. Or should I say, squeezing into yours.” A hand drops, groping at the lack of bulge between the rebellious porcelain males legs to make her point, only to have him smack it away.

“If you don’t behave, maybe I won’t let you squeeze into anything and just go right to sleep.” Kurt warns, even if there is no actual malice in his voice as she gets the door open and pulls him inside.

Hedwig can’t help but smirk, locking the door behind them. “Like that’d actually stop me, honey. You know better than that.”