luminary-child prompted: idk if you’re taking prompts but here: klaine moves in to a new place and obviously christen it by having sex everywhere. bottom!blaine says (yells) Kurt’s name so much when they fuck that when their next door neighbour finally greets them they know Kurt’s name

It’s tiny. Their living room barely spans ten feet across, the walls are a flat off-white color that they’re not allowed to paint, and the kitchen is a miniscule outdated mess. But none of this matters because their names are on the lease and they’re standing, side-by-side, in the threshold of their first official place together.

Kurt turns his head. Blaine’s eyes are wide, bright, and when he meets Kurt’s he beams broadly and grips Kurt’s hand tightly in his. Their stuff is still unpacked, strewn in messy piles of boxes at all corners of their new apartment, and Kurt really isn’t looking forward to the daunting task of setting everything up and deciding on the perfect mix of both their styles. Living in the loft together had taught them how that could be.

But this is a new them. A new start. An apartment in the heart of New York City where the occupants won’t come and go as they please; where they can try this again, try them, at their own pace.

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(a not quite Hobbit) AU: wandering through the woods, human!Blaine encounters elf prince!Kurt.

Blaine’s sword is heavy where it rests sheathed against his thigh. Each step jostles it, but Blaine takes comfort in the weight, occasionally letting the rough pads of his fingertips brush over the well-worn hide; it serves as a reminder of his constant and infallible companion.

He knows that he shouldn’t be wandering this far into the depths of this forest. Its very presence suggests magic, something ancient and powerful and not at all welcoming.  Even as a human it raises the hair on the back of Blaine’s neck, gives him the prickling sense of not quite being alone. He sticks to the path laid out in front of him, relying on the keen hunting senses passed down from his father and honed by himself after many long years of use.

The sun is a mere speck of starlight hidden in the thick canopy of heavy branches above. Blaine thanks the gods for his heavy jacket and thick pants as a pale wind gusts through, chilled and blustery despite the midsummer day. He draws his overcoat around him, trying to deduce how long he still has left to travel before he reaches the other end of the forest.

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since the collab with gladys and jay fell through, i decided to post my fic portion anyway! so i present very flirty blaine teasing kurt with corny pick-up lines until kurt finally caves and bam! shower sex (¬‿¬)

The first thing that Kurt sees when he opens his eyes are Blaine’s. He startles, jerking against the sheets, and comes to the slow realization that Blaine is sprawled out half on top of him, leg slung over his hip. “Oh my god, what?”

Blaine bends down to kiss him, quick, saying, “You just look so adorably fuckable when you’re sleeping. That’s all,” and then he’s gone with a bright flash of a smile, rolling nimbly off the bed and strolling naked towards the bathroom.

Kurt lies there, staring at the ceiling as his morning-muddled mind tries to process what, exactly, just happened.

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inspired by this message: Blaine, recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder, goes to a meeting wherein he meets Ian Gallagher. in the waiting area Kurt meets a surly, disgruntled boy named Mickey Milkovich.


The common area of the church is falsely bright and cheery, the way that all church commons are. Kurt eyes it with distaste, delicately taking a seat in one of the broken-down blue-upholstered chairs lining the far wall. Across from him, mounted between a grimy window and a bulletin board overflowing with support group meeting times and church notices, as well as a few other Kurt can’t make out that are drooping and folded in on themselves, is a wooden cross cracked and discolored with age.

Kurt looks away, tapping his fingers on his thigh. There’s only one other person in here, a boy with his head down and his ankle crossed loosely over his knee.

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warnings for: D/s dynamic (sub!Blaine and Dom!Kurt), punishment, slut-shaming (extremely brief), paddling, minor breathplay.

The subway rattles around Kurt, swaying his body gently into the heavyset middle-aged man standing next to him. All he does in response is tighten his grip on the handle, plant his feet a little more firmly onto the floor. His mind isn’t in this train, anyway, is focused more on his phone and on the open message from Blaine. It’s just three little words.

i’m sorry, Sir.

Blaine’s punctuation reflects what Kurt knows he’s probably feeling. There is no further explanation, nothing else divulging what Blaine could possibly be sorry for, but as his Sir (and, most importantly, as Blaine’s fiancé), Kurt thinks that he knows, recalls a certain reluctance in Blaine’s voice this morning before Kurt had left.

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anonymous prompted: blaine being so very obliviously sexy and kurt just gets so turned on by him and proceeds to fuck his brains out hohoho and blaine’s so adorably confused by it all but went along with it anyway cause yay he’s getting fucked

Blaine’s saying something—possibly about NYADA, or how much they need to catch up on their DVR—but Kurt isn’t paying attention: all he can focus on is the way that Blaine’s tongue wraps around the spoon he’s licking in between words and how he’s smiling, bright and innocent, as he makes eye contact and takes another bite of melting ice cream from his bowl. A few drops stay, white, on the tempting swell of his lower lip until Blaine licks them away and dips his spoon back down into his bowl.

Heat tugs in Kurt’s belly. It’s been nearly a week since they’ve had the time to do anything, and as ridiculous as Kurt sounds he misses it already. Especially when Blaine is eating ice cream like that.

Kurt lets his own spoon clatter down into the melted mush at the bottom of his own bowl. Blaine looks alarmed, eyes widening, and he licks his lips, asks, soft and concerned, “Kurt, are you all—”

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anonymous prompted: Do you still take prompts? Because i would love some army!kurt, either coming home and supising blaine or the skype-y long distance stuff.

“Blaine, dude, you gotta calm down.”

Blaine whirls around from where he’s straightening his comforter to give his roommate, Kyle, a scathing glare. Kyle, to his credit, doesn’t look away from the hacky sack he’s tossing in the air. “Calm down? Kyle, I haven’t seen my recently-deployed fiancé since he left the country back in August. That was—are you looking at me?—over a month ago.”

Kyle finally stops tossing the hacky sack and heaves himself into a sitting position, holding his hands out in surrender. With his floppy blond hair and brown eyes Kyle reminds Blaine a lot like a Labrador, especially when he knows that he’s done something wrong.

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pushing daisies auKurt Hummel, a humble piemaker with a not-so humble ability, brings his childhood crush, Blaine Anderson, back to life to solve his murder. however, Kurt must also keep his distance from Blaine, because if they touch again Blaine will be dead forever.

When Kurt Hummel is twenty-six years, fifty-nine days, twelve hours, and twenty minutes old, he finds himself staring down at the face of his childhood crush, Blaine Anderson.

As Kurt is wondering how all of this could have happened, and how the last time he had seen Blaine had been seventeen years ago when Blaine had kissed him, a tap on the shoulder jolts him forcibly out of his thoughts. He jumps, whirling around, and comes face-to-face with his less-than-patient partner.

Santana Lopez, private investigator extraordinaire, crosses her arms over her low-cut blouse, scowling as she looks to the coffin and back up to Kurt’s apologetic face. A well-plucked eyebrow arches gracefully towards the ceiling. “We haven’t got all day, doe eyes. You gonna tap him or not?”

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anonymous prompted: I would love it if you write something like, certain behaviors and quirks of blaine just turn kurt on/make him putty. Bonus if it’s blaine doing the whole wide innocent eyes thing without even realizing it :)

The one thing that Kurt’s always prided himself on has been his self-control. While not necessarily perfect, he likes to think that, despite the hundred-dollar sweaters he’s bid for on eBay and all of the cheesecake he’s eaten over the years, he can at least control himself when he needs to.

And then he meets Blaine.

And Blaine manages, in such an alarmingly short period of time, to dismantle practically any and all notions that Kurt’s held of himself. Most of them completely unintentionally, and most of them with just a few innocent, unaware looks.

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prompted: Would you consider writing blind!Blaine getting the opportunity to have his eyesight restored and even though there’s still a high chance it won’t be but he decides to take it. Kurt’s with him when they see the result and Blaine wants to see is Kurt first and when they remove the wrap from his eyes he sees Kurt for the first time ever and starts crying and Kurt thinks it didn’t work but it did and Blaine’s crying because he can finally see his gorgeous husband

(note that even with research i took a few liberties for the sake of the prompt and because hey, it’s fiction)

There are empty coffee cups stacked four deep on the chair next to the bed in Blaine’s exam room, evidence of Kurt’s proclivity to chain-drink caffeine when stressed. The doctor is a lot later in coming to exam Blaine than he’d said he would be, and despite Blaine’s understanding, laidback attitude about it Kurt knows that he’s antsy and nervous, too.

“Where is he?” Kurt asks, not even bothering to try and disguise the agitated whine in his voice. He takes to pacing by the window, hands jittering as he flutters them. “He said he’d be here ten minutes ago.”

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