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Posts tagged "fics"

If You Don’t Cheat — A Glee Fic


Title: If You Don’t Cheat (1/2)
Pairing: Klaine
Rating: NC17 
Words: 4400/??? (WIP)
Warnings/Kinks (overall): D/s scenes and eventual lifestyle, voyeurism, masturbation, painplay, bondage, edging, oversensitivity, flogging (with a crop), fucking up expectations of topping and bottoming in regards to dominance and submission.
Summary: If you don’t cheat, you don’t care enough.

A/N: This is the sequel to Load the Dice. I got so many requests for a continuation, and so here it is. I hope you enjoy it, despite its unbeta’d state. The next part will be up as soon as it is written! Thanks to those who popped in on the livestream to watch me write and support what was being written!

Kurt’s not much of a gambling man. He doesn’t play poker, he doesn’t watch races or sports, he doesn’t go to casinos and play the slots. And he doesn’t gamble with himself, much of the time.

Blaine is certainly changing that.

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Grey update: now complete



Title: Grey

Author:  rainjoy

Rating: NC-17

Summary:  Everyone’s got to learn. Sequel to All the Other Ghosts.

Pairing:  Klaine

Status:  complete

Chapters:  34

Download .pdf:  [x]

Download ePub:  [x]

Please stop spamming us with requests :-)


based on this
au in which Klaine were middle school boyfriends until Kurt moved. They’re reconnected again during a college party.

Blaine Anderson understands that most eleven year olds don’t know what true love is, but he’s not like most eleven year olds. The thing is that he’s already found his soulmate. Beautiful, wonderful Kurt Hummel, who has hair as soft as his favorite cashmere blend sweater and eyes as blue as the ocean.  Kurt was the most prettiest, nicest, amazing boy in Blaine’s fifth grade class and Blaine loved him. Kurt let him hold his hand and shared his sandwiches with Blaine, and gave Blaine sweet kisses on his cheek and he is so in love with this boy.

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Fic: And Learn to See


And Learn to See
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
AU future fic - set about twenty years into a future in which Kurt and Blaine haven’t met. Until they do.
Word count: 5,100

Summary: Kurt has a store cat, a few loyal celebrity clients, and a retail clerk who’s a little terrified of him. He doesn’t want for anything.

Notes: This story was made much better, and given a title beyond “boutique fic - doc,” by damnpene - thank you!

- - - - - 

On a tree-lined block of Elizabeth Street in Soho stands a quiet boutique with a simple sign out front. Kurt Hummel, Men’s Clothing. It’s been there for over ten years now: one of a few high-end boutiques on this block at first, now surrounded by flashier neighbors, stores with big plate-glass windows facing the street and no one behind the counter who could tell a half-Windsor from a four-in-hand. The sort of people who shop in those stores might peer in the window at Kurt Hummel, but they keep on walking. Which is fine with Kurt Hummel, men’s clothing designer.

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on my heart just like a tattoo


some tattoo!klaine for aerobicblaine because of this post and its tags 

alternative meeting, blaine is a guy at kurt’s gym with amazing tattoo sleeves that interest kurt and when Kurt goes to get a tattoo of his own - guess who he finds? 

also if someone draws art for this I’d love you forever

Kurt hated the gym.

Of course he liked to stay fit. He had his own stationary bike at his dad’s house that he liked to use and mostly did work out video tapes, but after moving into the loft with Rachel (and shortly after, Santana) neither of these things were possible. His bike was back home and they didn’t have the room in the apartment for it now and he couldn’t safely do his work out tapes without fear of embarrassment from Santana. So Kurt was forced into joining a gym so he didn’t get too out of shape.

Which he still hated.

Gyms were so public, after all. Anyone could look over and watch him sweat and get out of breath and it was just awkward. Then there was the fear of being measured up to all the more fit bodies around him. Highly muscled men lifting weights in the corner or even women with toned stomachs that were working out closer to him. Kurt didn’t know what everyone was thinking of him, the slightly scrawny gay kid biking or running on a treadmill.

Kurt almost didn’t go often enough to really rationalize paying for the membership at first, because he hated it so much - until one day when he saw him.

Him being a shorter, trim man with muscular arms that weren’t too beefy or over the top who liked to work on cardio.

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I wanna be free, I wanna be loved


Well, princehummel sent me this photo and said “let’s talk about kurt with this tattoo right here or something like it" so of course I did the thing. 

This is one part tattoo fic, other part artist!blaine and one more part alternative meeting. I hope you enjoy it and there are more links in the fic by some amazing tattoo artists <3 

Kurt meets Blaine during his first week in New York. And he’s pretty sure Blaine absolutely hates him at first because he walks right over the chalk art he’s drawing on the sidewalk. 

"Hey, watch it!" 

Kurt starts when he hears the voice coming from below him. He’d been jogging, but his one earbud had fallen out of his right ear a while back and he didn’t want to stop his pace to fix it. 

He looks down, realizes that he’s standing on something colorful and jumps back a little. Then his eyes travel to the voice that had spoken, which ends up belonging to Blaine. 

Blaine is balanced on his knees, which have bulky knee pads over a pair of ratty jeans and his hands and upper arms are covered in chalk of different colors. He’s frowning up at Kurt. 

"I’m - I’m sorry," he says, looking back down at the rather large mural that Blaine had been drawing out. "I was just - stuck in my own world. Sorry." Kurt pauses and really takes in what Blaine is drawing. It’s a myriad of bright colors, swirling together in no apparent pattern until Kurt realizes that it’s a hummingbird made entirely out of slashes of color.

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Inside this tattooed body


Inspired by this astounding manip

Tattoo!artist Kurt

Not canon after the Break up

"When am I going to see you, bud ?"

"Whenever you come to see me here, Dad ?"

There is a smile in his voice - at least he’s smiling. “I’ll try to come around next week-end, but —”

"But ?"

"But New York is far away, Kurt !"

"Dad —" his voice is trailing off on the vowel, stretching to maximum "annoyed" capacity.

"I know, I know" Burt chuckles, "it’s not like you’re one the other side of the country but still — it’s a different world, you gotta admit that" he adds.

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I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn.
Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu). Milton wrote Bible fanfic, and everyone and their mom spent the Middle Ages writing King Arthur fanfic. In the sixteenth century you and another dude could translate the same Petrarchan sonnet and somehow have it count as two separate poems, and no one gave a fuck. Shakespeare doesn’t have a single original plot—although much of it would be more rightly termed RPF—and then John Fletcher and Mary Cowden Clarke and Gloria Naylor and Jane Smiley and Stephen Sondheim wrote Shakespeare fanfic. Guys like Pope and Dryden took old narratives and rewrote them to make fun of people they didn’t like, because the eighteenth century was basically high school. And Spenser! Don’t even get me started on Spenser.
Here’s what fanfic authors/fans need to remember when anyone gives them shit: the idea that originality is somehow a good thing, an innately preferable thing, is a completely modern notion. Until about three hundred years ago, a good writer, by and large, was someone who could take a tried-and-true story and make it even more awesome. (If you want to sound fancy, the technical term is imitatio.) People were like, why would I wanna read something about some dude I’ve never heard of? There’s a new Sir Gawain story out, man! (As to when and how that changed, I tend to blame Daniel Defoe, or the Modernists, or reality television, depending on my mood.)
I also find fanfic fascinating because it takes all the barriers that keep people from professional authorship—barriers that have weakened over the centuries but are nevertheless still very real—and blows right past them. Producing literature, much less circulating it, was something that was well nigh impossible for the vast majority of people for most of human history. First you had to live in a culture where people thought it was acceptable for you to even want to be literate in the first place. And then you had to find someone who could teach you how to read and write (the two didn’t necessarily go together). And you needed sufficient leisure time to learn. And be able to afford books, or at least be friends with someone rich enough to own books who would lend them to you. Good writers are usually well-read and professional writing is a full-time job, so you needed a lot of books, and a lot of leisure time both for reading and writing. And then you had to be in a high enough social position that someone would take you seriously and want to read your work—to have access to circulation/publication in addition to education and leisure time. A very tiny percentage of the population fit those parameters (in England, which is the only place I can speak of with some authority, that meant from 500-1000 A.D.: monks; 1000-1500: aristocratic men and the very occasional aristocratic woman; 1500-1800: aristocratic men, some middle-class men, a few aristocratic women; 1800-on, some middle-class women as well). What’s amazing is how many people who didn’t fit those parameters kept writing in spite of the constant message they got from society that no one cared about what they had to say, writing letters and diaries and stories and poems that often weren’t discovered until hundreds of years later. Humans have an urge to express themselves, to tell stories, and fanfic lets them. If you’ve got access to a computer and an hour or two to while away of an evening, you can create something that people will see and respond to instantly, with a built-in community of people who care about what you have to say.
I do write the occasional fic; I wish I had the time and mental energy to write more. I’ll admit I don’t read a lot of fic these days because most of it is not—and I know how snobbish this sounds—particularly well-written. That doesn’t mean it’s “not good”—there are a lot of reasons people read fic and not all of them have to do with wanting to read finely crafted prose. That’s why fic is awesome—it creates a place for all kinds of storytelling. But for me personally, now that my job entails reading about 1500 pages of undergraduate writing per year, when I have time to read for enjoyment I want it to be by someone who really knows what they’re doing. There’s tons of high-quality fic, of course, but I no longer have the time and patience to go searching for it that I had ten years ago. But whether I’m reading it or not, I love that fanfiction exists. Because without people doing what fanfiction writers do, literature wouldn’t exist. (And then I’d be out of a job and, frankly, I don’t know how to do anything else.)


-  “As a professor, may I ask you what you think about fanfiction?” (via meiringens)

(Source: onlyalittlelion)


This is an AU requested from mothafickle and splashofthesun from Twitter. 

Summary: Blaine and Kurt knew each other in elementary school, back when Blaine had glasses and braces. Years later, when Blaine’s about to go to New York City for college, he finds Kurt on Facebook. Kurt is surprised to find out that his former best friend got hot.

"Give them back!" 

"I don’t think so, short stuff. I think these will be better suited on the top of the school roof." 

Blaine stares up at the tall sixth grader who currently has his glasses hostage, held way above his head. He admits he’s embarrassingly close to tears. 

But his dad will kill him if he breaks another pair of glasses, so. 

"Stop that!" 

Blaine turns. He sees a slightly chubby boy, maybe his own age, 

"Puckerman, give him back his glasses." 

"This doesn’t concern you, homo." 

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Based on this. Or, How Blaine Anderson Found His Soulmate (and He Happened to Be an Elf Prince)

It’s raining the night that Blaine Anderson walks into a bar, orders two shots and watches as his life falls apart around him. Things are already not going well; he’d had a date with a guy from his tap class that had ended with him stranded on the Lower East Side without a Metrocard and with zero cash in his wallet, and instead of hitting an ATM and grabbing a cab back to Brooklyn (if he could find one this time of night; the cab drivers seemed to smell Brooklyn on him and avoided him like the plague), Blaine decides to stretch his uptight laces a little bit. There’s nothing waiting for him in Brooklyn, save the cranky old woman he has as a roommate and her equally cranky old cat, and a little wallowing in his drink in a nondescript, hole-in-the-wall bar sounds like exactly the kind of romantic resolution to a shitty date that an artist like him needs.

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// “You’re going to stay here, like -” he paused to gulp nervously (god, what if he was wrong) “like a good boy,” he finished, voice breaking a little on the end. The look on Blaine’s face then was something Kurt would never in a million years forget - like he’d gotten something wonderful and fantastic that he’d never even known he wanted. (x)

// “What do you want me to do?” Kurt asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Spank you?” It was supposed to be sarcastic. It should have sounded like a ridiculous suggestion; Kurt had meant it to illustrate the absurdity of Kurt punishing Blaine for his disobedience. But the word hung in the air like crackling electricity. “Yes,” Blaine said softly. (x)

// Sex, for Kurt and Blaine…it’s special. It’s about the physical stuff, sure, the urgency in their lips and the buzz at the pit of his stomach and Kurt’s breath coming faster and faster in his ear and his limbs sliding sweat-slick over Kurt’s. But it’s about other stuff, too. It’s about the way Kurt held Blaine’s face in his hands and locked eyes with him when they made love the first time. It’s about the whispered I love yous between thrusts. It’s about the relieved breath Blaine releases every time Kurt slides Blaine’s bowtie off and presses a kiss where it sat tight around his throat. It’s about the sense of absolute safety Blaine has with Kurt, no matter what they’re doing. It’s about the way Kurt can make a bite feel like a kiss, and a kiss feel like a benediction. (x)

(Source: blaindependent)

jsscvlnt asked:






The Ghost In Cephus

Anyone remember that really unsettling fic where Kurt is a light-based space entity and Blaine is lost in the dark?

Endymion Fell by inkystars

Oh hey KURT.





The Ghost In Cephus

Anyone remember that really unsettling fic where Kurt is a light-based space entity and Blaine is lost in the dark?

Endymion Fell by inkystars

Oh hey KURT.


a touch of your melody — based on this prompt: “Kurt, a trained musician for years, and Blaine, a prodigy who can play everything he touches. Would love jealousy, competition and sexual tension overload.”

rating/word count: PG-13/~2.9k

notes: written for the klaine hiatus exchange for the lovely Naomi! I hope I did your prompt justice! there is a link to a YT video involved, but it’s not important to the plot or anything. I just like instrumental covers of songs \o/

He’s the best student violinist in New York City, praised by critics, casual listeners, and even the most grating of Youtubing classical music snobs alike. Kurt Hummel knows all of this and wears his pride well.

Years and years of training have led up to this kind of recognition — Kurt knows the violin best but he can also play the piano, as well as the alto saxophone on occasion. Very few things faze him, but there is one thing that gets under his skin in the best and worst of ways.

That would be Blaine Anderson, pianist of the same symphony orchestra that Kurt is a part of, unfairly handsome, and a musical prodigy to boot.

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