how's that getting over working for you kurt

Kurt with a blind so

Originally posted by claracivry

Master list

Touch becomes even more important to him

He likes to always have some sort of physical contact, be it hand holding or his tail just brushing against your leg  

Kurt getting teased that only a blind person would love him

You being there to reassure him how ridiculous that is, that though your eyes might not work like other peoples, you can see how beautiful he is inside and out

He would learn braille in secret, surprising you on your birthday with a handmade braille card, a little poem inside

If you can’t touch something, in order to build a picture of it in your mind, he’d happily describe it for you, giving as much detail that he possibly can

Tracing your fingers over the patterns across his skin

He’d read to you, snuggled up together, wrapped up in a cosy blanket

Wanting to help you as much as he can, but understanding that you can take care of yourself

 

Have a great day and be safe

@fiddlesticksimagines

kate-dammit-run  asked:

I was doing fine - up at 6am on a Saturday and working diligently - until I imagined Jane waking up first after their first time and being al nervous and unsure of herself and then Kurt waking up a few minutes after her and how he'd help her calm down and realize there's nothing to be nervous about because they are finally both home and right where they belong. Ok. Bye.

A/N: thank you @kate-dammit-run for this lovely prompt. I loved dreaming up this fic while on vacation, hope you like it! (I couldn’t figure out how to work your second lovely idea in there but I love it so much that I am totally going to write another fic about it at some point.)

My fics for the @blindspothiatusproject challenge will continue this weekend! Or sooner if I can get my act together…

ready to be happy with you

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Klaine fic - “The Ties that Bind” (Rated NC17)

Blaine and Kurt are dating, in a long-term relationship, with New York City as their playground. Everything is as close to perfect for the two of them as can be, especially for Blaine, who’s living the dream as a songwriter beside his up-and-coming designer boyfriend, both of them without a care in the world. Until one night, he’ll find himself connected in a bizarre way to seven other human beings he’s never met, trying to solve a mystery - the hunt for a killer and to save a life, all while trying to come to terms with his new forced membership into the collective. 

(This is a re-write that I got several requests for, based off of the Netflix series Sense8, with a little loose interpretation on some of the specifics - i.e., how the collective get their powers and why, what they need to accomplish as a collective, and the fact that all the players aren’t necessarily spread all over the world. Quite a few of them are in NY. Also, this story is going to focus on Kurt and Blaine, with the other characters being satellite to the story, though their stories may end up being explored deeper in one-shots. YOU DON’T NEED TO BE FAMILIAR WITH THE SHOW SENSE8 TO FOLLOW THIS. THIS STORY EXPLAINS IT ALL.) Warning for violence, blood, psychic abilities, psychic bonds, angst, anxiety, sex work, and death (not Kurt or Blaine).

Read on AO3.

Chapter 1 - In the Beginning (3518 words)

“Where are we going?” Kurt giggles, glancing over his shoulder at the club behind them, search lights from the rooftop flashing and music bumping so loud Kurt can barely hear himself think. They’ve left their friends inside, drinking, partying, and getting high. Kurt and Blaine weren’t very sneaky about cutting through the crowd and ducking out the back entrance, but odds are their friends don’t really miss them.

“You’ll see.” Blaine smirks, pulling Kurt closer as they make their way out into the dark parking lot.

“Can’t this wait until we get back to our place?” Kurt asks with a clue as to what Blaine has in mind. He’s not all that thrilled about doing the dirty in the backseat of Blaine’s BMW, not out here, but it’s better than a stall in the bathroom. Besides, it’s been a long night of grinding against his gorgeous boyfriend’s body in the tight confines of this new and slightly-off-the-beaten-path night club.

Honestly, if Blaine hadn’t thought of this, Kurt would have himself.

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The Invisible Cord Ch. 7

You can find chapter 6 right here


November 2011
The Green Creek Motel
Right outside of Washington D.C.

As I wait in the parking lot a sudden fear comes over me. I remember my abduction and begin to panic a bit.
All the email said was that they had information on my children and gave me an address.
It’s been an hour that I’ve been sitting here waiting and with every passing minute I grow tenser.
After an eternity a car followed closely by an SUV enter the parking lot. I feel for my gun. Not long after my abduction I bought it and have kept it near ever since.
A man exits the car and looks right at me and nods.
I carefully get out of my car, holding my gun in my coat pocket.
He looks in the window of the car and gives another nod.
A door opens and a girl and boy get out. They look at me for some time. I know who they are on instinct. They are my babies. The ones who were stolen from me, thought to be dead. Here they are standing in front of me.
It feels like I’m moving through molasses as I cross to them. They stand side by side and look at me. My daughter looks me right in the eyes with curiosity. In the girl’s face I see myself as a teenager, her bright, wide, almond shaped eyes and narrow face take me back to a more innocent time.
My boy’s eyes dart around and he shuffles his feet. He is the spitting image of his father and it breaks my heart for a moment. He has the thick eyebrows and high cheekbones that an eighteen year old me fell in love with. The one thing of mine he does have are my eyes. When they finally meet mine they are serious but tender.
We just stand there looking at each other for the longest time. Finally I reach out and put a hand on each of their cheeks. I barely make contact before my girl throws herself into my arms and buries her face in my neck. I cradle the back of her head and cup my son’s cheek. The moment I do I’m overtaken my emotions of all kinds.
Fear, sadness, joy, confusion, anxiety, almost anything you can name.
Finally it all zeros in on love and he joins his sister in the hug.
For the first time in sixteen years my life feels full.

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Secret Mutant 2016 - Main Collection

Sorry for the long wait folks, but here (finally!) is our list of favorites from the Secret Mutant Exchange 2016! As always, we encourage you to check out ALL the amazing fic/art by the talented contributors!

If It’s Cloudy or Bright by pearl_o  [Cherik, R]

It’s too late to write back now, Erik thinks. Not after all this time. But he would–he would like to see Charles again, he thinks.

Mod Note: This fic is gorgeous and atmospheric, conveying such a perfect sense of both Erik’s isolation and self-denial in the context of the time period (post- WWII).   

Fifty Dollars and First Impressions by pocky_slash [Raven/Angel, Cherik, PG13]

Angel’s not thrilled at the prospect of spending her Friday night on a blind date with her boss’ rich boyfriend’s sister, but for fifty bucks and a nice bottle of tequila, even baby-sitting Trust Fund Princess can be bearable.

Then they meet. And suddenly, it’s a lot more than bearable.

Mod Note: Funny, a little unusual rom-com style fic with some amazing Angel & Erik rapport.

Natural Gifts by annejumps (Jean/Erik/Charles, NC17}

Mod Note: Modern, powered AU where Charles and Erik run a PR company and Jean is their intern. Hot, sexy (and surprisingly tender) threesome that is beautifully written.

Tethered by fabeld [Cherik, PG13] 

After the death of his wife, Erik leaves his daughter in care of Charles and his school. He roams far but he always finds his way back.

Mod Note: This is a brutal one. It hurts, but it hurts so good!

Cellulose Acetate by bocje_ce_ustu [Charles/Logan, past Cherik, R]  

At first it is terrifying and, in a way, heartbreakingly beautiful, not unlike watching a star dying in fast forward.

Mod Note: This fic is a gorgeous, if painful exploration of what it means to lose your sense of self; doubly terrifying for a telepath who can so easily get pulled into the minds of others. Logan is gruff but tender, and Charles’ POV is heartbreaking.

In Sickness by Unforgotten [Cherik, PG13]

Decades ago, Charles would have given much for the chance to be at Erik’s side when he was sick. Now that they’re both in their nineties and on the run from Sentinels, there’s still nowhere he’d rather be.

Mod Note: Old mutant husbands are always a favorite, and this fic really nails the sometimes sharp, yet comfortable (and comforting) relationship between Charles and Erik in the dark future. 

I say that fate should not tempt me by pearl_o [Charles/Jean, R]

Conversations, chess games, dreams–the months following Apocalypse give Jean a lot to work through.

Mod Note: The depth and complexity of Charles and Jean’s relationship post-XMA is really well explored, and the open ending leaves us breathless for more.

Society’s Anxiety by phalangine [Cherik, R]

The day Charles Xavier’s soulmate counter reaches zero is also the day he meets Erik Lehnsherr. It never occurs to him that that might mean something.

Mod Note: A very interesting take on the soulmate trope; the reveal of the how and why it took them so long to get there is heartwrenching, making the subsequent happy ending all the more deserved.

this sky, too, is folding under you by Nokomis [Gen, PG]

Nice things keep happening to Kurt. He wants to know why.

Mod Note: Kurt’s confusion over his presence at the School is charmingly funny, and his awkward relationship with Mystique (and the bittersweet reveal of their connection) makes this fic a delight to read!

trying to convince myself (that it’s alright living without it) by nextraordinaire [Cherik, R]

Running from unicorns hadn’t been in the work description when Charles’d applied for the research position, but from reading all the reports about the ‘rather aggressive behavior’ they showed towards researchers in general, it shouldn’t have come as surprise.

Mod Note: Super trippy and with a great sense of humour this fic is really a creative and different addition to the collection.

for the love of food by dedkake [Cherik, PG13]

Charles is a struggling single father. Erik teaches him to cook real meals for his son.

Mod Note: Cooking lessons by Erik Lehnsherr with some funny and sweet romance added. Charles really deserves this, even though he only fed his kid lunchables for the longest time.

Kadam Week Prompt Five: Our First Noel

Kurt and Adam either meet or reunite while participating in a volunteer event.

In this fic, Kurt decides to spend Christmas Eve working in a LGBT youth shelter. Burt comes along to help (no Blaine all up here in this bitch) and Kurt meets a kind young man whom found his NYADA audition “Breathtaking.” ^_^

There are a few more switcheroos in this fic: Burt doesn’t tell Kurt about his cancer until the day after Christmas. Kurt’s going to be seriously upset (and not happy that Burt didn’t tell him immediately; I think I would be too) but I’ll say that Burt wanted Kurt to not have to worry about it over Christmas (and the kid DOES worry.)

Plus, on a more selfish note, I have to keep this fic fairly short if I want to finish the week’s challenge, and if Adam and Kurt wanted to talk shop about cancer, this story would be considerably longer.  

Please enjoy!

-O-

Kurt never believed he would credit Sue Sylvester with having a good idea (let alone a philanthropic one) but her enlisting the Glee club to volunteer at a homeless shelter last Christmas Eve had been a surprisingly sweet initiative on her part. That had lasted all of one day, but he thought it would be a good annual tradition to adopt.

When he thought he would be spending Christmas alone this year, Kurt had signed himself up to work at a halfway center known as the “Rainbow Connection,” a center which provided aid to displaced LGBT youth in New York City.

But Burt had shown up at the door with a tree, very nearly inducing a heart attack of Kurt’s own. After the tree had been put up and they’d waved Rachel off for her cruise, Burt had volunteered to come along with Kurt to the shelter. The man had signed up considerably late, but none of the staff minded.

“We really need all the help we can get,” said the curly-haired man whom shook both their hands at the check-in desk. He was wearing a Santa cap. “We won’t be turning away anyone today, that or any other day.”

Kurt looked around the center’s reception room. It was a weathered place, bearing scratch marks on walls with chipped and faded paint. Old pipes gurgled from the ceiling, and the carpet was frayed and water-stained. He might’ve been imagining things, but judging by its slightly lopsided halls the place seemed to be actively sinking into the earth. Burt looked around too, brow furrowing.

“If I have anythin’ to say in Washington about any gay kid shelter—and damned well I do—I’m not gonna stand for Ohio’s shelters getting this beat up.”

Kurt thought the building was in desperate need of a facelift, but the staff had tried cheering the place with an explosion of color: There were LGBT flags and safe space stickers everywhere you looked, a burst of silver and blue paper chains surrounding a battered menorah on a crooked table, and a kenora surrounded by red and gold tinsel not far away. Christmas lights were wrapped around the battered old pipes, and down the halls were intermittent little Charlie Brown trees the staff had likely picked from the remains of Christmas tree lots. They’d been loved into life with handmade decorations, photos of staff members and shelter comers. Kurt’s heart ached and his throat tightened as he looked at them, looked at the resource posters for food, foster care, financial aid, and STD prevention and care.

“I’m glad this place exists.”

“Me too,” said Burt heavily. “But I’m real sorry that it has to.”

“We got a whole lot of people coming in tonight and tomorrow,” said the shelter attendant, and they turned to face him again. “The weather tonight is supposed to set a new record for the coldest Christmas NYC’s seen in eleven years.”

Kurt felt a hot wave of guilt. His dad had flown so far to see him, had saved him from being one of the displaced teens coming in for a respite from the cold, to the only Christmas they were likely to get. He stepped closer to his father, and Burt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.

“Now to find jobs for you both. Can either of you cook?”

Burt muttered a “Not really,” while Kurt nodded. “A little.”

“’A little’ meaning my kid cooks better than anyone I ever met. Uh, don’t tell Carol I said that.”

The man sighed, looking profoundly relieved. “Right then. Kurt, if I could just have you take a right down the hall to the kitchen, they’ll put you to work. Mr. Hummel, if you’ll just come with me, please…”

Kurt reluctantly waved goodbye to his father, headed into the kitchen area, where he was pleased to find lots of people already at work, bustling over trays of turkey, foil casserole dishes of potatoes and cranberry sauce.

The man in charge eagerly put Kurt to work on the Christmas cookies. As Kurt picked up an icing bag, for one sliver in time, his mother’s hands were wrapped around his much smaller ones, guiding his decorating for Santa’s cookies.

He blinked, and got to work carefully decorating snowflake shaped cookies, making silvery curly-ques atop light-blue icing, dotting them with glittery sugar and chocolate chips. He knew he was being silly; people would be more interested in eating the cookies then looking at them, but he didn’t want the dessert to seem perfunctory. He’d yelled at his bemused father for trying to stick a plate of oreos in front of the fireplace when that just wasn’t the same.

He made rainbow cookies with gender symbols atop them, cookies in the shape of an ace with black, blue and purple frosting, glittery blue, pink and white striped stars to represent the transgender flag. Perhaps he went a bit too far by making little gingerbread men in frosting tuxedos holding hands with each other, but he could not resist. Soon he made little gingerbread women with icing skirts doing the same, followed by large heart cookies. Feeling sheepish, Kurt nonetheless got to work writing on the hearts, wondering if they seemed too much like Valentine’s-conversation candy.

“These are all lovely.”

Starting, Kurt whirled around, nearly knocking the young man beside him in the ribs with his elbow—there really were too many cooks in the kitchen. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. And thank you.”

The young man smiled. He was a tall bean pole, with dark blond hair tousled beneath his beanie, with light-blue eyes and a small cleft in his chin. Kurt felt the bottom briefly drop out of his stomach. “It’s quite alright. I’m sorry; there isn’t too much space here.” He had a British accent.

He took a careful step back, still smiling down at Kurt’s cookies, expression soft. “Oh, these are wonderful. You make pastries as well as you sing, Kurt. People will be fighting over them.”

Kurt’s face was suddenly as flaming as his cookies and he looked away, smiling broadly.

“I hope not. And thank you again, ah—“ His eyes widened in surprise as he realized that while the stranger knew his name, Kurt didn’t know his. And certainly he wouldn’t forget a face like this one.

It was the stranger’s turn to flush. “I’m sorry; I’m a fan, not a stalker.” He frowned. “Stalkers aren’t allowed to say that, are they? Ah, well. Adam Crawford.” He extended a floury hand, and Kurt took it with a bemused smile. “I forget you’re not a NYADA student just yet.”

“How did you know I got in?” Kurt asked wonderingly.

“I heard your performance at the Winter showcase.” Adam smiled again, eyes warm and bright. “If Madame T didn’t let you in after that, I can only conclude she’d need to be shut in an asylum.”

Kurt laughed aloud at that, surprising himself. “Well, thank you. I think Rachel was the showstopper though.”

“Rachel Berry?” asked Adam, brow creasing. “She was fine. But the way you sang…” Adam shook his head in stunned amazement. “It was positively…breathtaking.”

Kurt colored a little more, knowing he ought to get back to the cookies and yet rooted to the spot. “Thank you.”

“Fair warning,” said Adam, moving to check the bubbling pot he’d been working over. He scooped out a ladleful and after blowing on it for some time took a tentative sip. “The moment you finished singing the Apples gathered outside to discuss potential tactics on how to recruit you. I likely would’ve discovered where you lived and shown up on your doorstep with my homemade apple pie. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Wait, what? The Apples? And recruit me for what, being gay?”

“Of course you can’t recruit people into being gay. You can only become gay by sitting too close to the telly,” Adam said seriously. Then his face fell and both he and Kurt burst out giggling. Adam wiped his eyes.

“The Adam’s Apples are the show choir group I founded.” Kurt’s eyes lit up at once. “I thought you were remarkable, but to be honest, I didn’t have much hope, considering how good you are and we’re…” Adam shrugged helplessly. “Well, show choir. Even amongst misfit artists, show choir members are treated anathema at NYADA.”

“That’s okay. I was part of my high school glee club, and even nerds threw rocks at us from cars. But pie and show choir both sound excellent to me.”

Adam opened the oven and Kurt got a hot waft of decadent cinnamon and melting brown sugar, along with the gentle smell of apples. “Come to the dark side, Kurt. We have pie.”

“As long as it’s not koolaid.”

“And try a bit of this,” Adam offered, fetching another saucer and offering Kurt a small scoop of soup. Throwing Adam a dubious look, Kurt blew on it and tried, eyes closing.

“Oh dear God, that chicken and dumpling is divine.” He laughed and shook his head. “Did you follow me here so that you could win me over to your show choir with food?”

It was stupid, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Adam maybe cooked this way for someone else.

“Is it working?” Adam asked innocently, chuckling when Kurt nudged him playfully. “No, dear. I come here often. I only just so happened to recognize you.”  

“Are you…are you a volunteer as well?”

“Yes,” said Adam, stirring the pot and adding pepper. “School and the Apples keep me busy and I can’t come as often as I like, but I like to volunteer as a day camp counselor here. The facility works with the state to find lgbt-friendly foster homes for minors, but lots of them like to come here and participate in therapy or art classes.”

“Are you…” He ought not to ask, not to ask— “Are you here with your family tonight?”

Adam smiled and shook his head. “No, they’re back across the pond in Wessex, but no one minded a bit when I came out, not even my gran. I’m afraid I’m saving my money in the kipper for a longer vacation opportunity in the summer, so I won’t be with them this year.” He exhaled, and looked at the window, beckoning Kurt over with a finger.

“Still….”

The sight knocked the heart out of him; there was already an enormous line of people outside the shelter. Attendants were trying to shepherd people inside, but the line wrapped around the block. People were huddling together, all the while the wind was whistling and the world was being pillowed with snow. Kurt blinked again and prayed Adam didn’t notice him dab at his eye.

“Here I’m reminded it could be worse,” the taller boy said quietly, going back to his cutting board to slice potatoes. Kurt turned back to the cookies, tracing words on the desserts as quickly as he could. “I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“I…my dad struggled with my coming out, it was so different than everything he ever was, and yet he took me exactly as I am, unconditionally.” Kurt palmed his eye. “I was so afraid when I told him that I’d…well, my friend Mercedes offered to let me stay at her place, if…”

Adam looked over at him, expression serious. “You shouldn’t have had to worry about that at all, Kurt.” Adam pronounced his name Kuht, and Kurt liked how it sounded. “No one deserves to be thrown out of their home for something they simply cannot help. While I’m very happy your dad is supportive, I wish that support were simply expected, rather than being an instance of sheer luck.”

Kurt smiled sadly. “My dad said something along the same lines.”

Suddenly he got an idea, and seized a package of paper cups and ripped off the plastic. Kurt grabbed a tray from a shelf beneath him, and after setting the cups upon it started filling them all from an enormous dispenser with cocoa. Adam watched curiously as Kurt feverishly sprinkled cinnamon in them all, grabbed his coat off the hook and started buttoning. “What are you…” He looked outside and his eyes widened with understanding. “Oh…”  

“I know I probably can’t give one to everyone in time,” Kurt said breathlessly, bustling for the emergency exit. “But I have to at least try.”

Stunned, Adam watched as Kurt headed out, the wind buffeting him as he did so. A second later Adam turned the burner and oven off, and started stacking a tray of his own, curiously sampling a hot cocoa with cinnamon. He closed his eyes. God, but that was delicious.  

He hurried out afterwards, the chill knifing into his bones, making him seize up. He’d been in such a rush to follow Kurt that he’d forgotten his coat. Kurt was already making a beeline for the line, his face flushed pink. Adam watched it for a stupidly long moment, then jolted and followed suit.  

By now the line was moving and more people had made their way inside, but no one rejected the cocoa, some sipping cautiously while others simply moved their faces over the steam, wrapping icy fingers around the hot cups.

Soon after the boys rushed in again, and again, and on the sixth time Kurt thought at least he was getting some exercise this Christmas. He and Adam kept bumping into each other as they served chocolate, and Kurt couldn’t help but huddle closer to the other boy—it really was bitterly cold out.

By the time they’d served cocoa to the last person heading inside they staggered back into the kitchen, exhausted, very flushed, very cold and cracking up. “Dear God, your hands,” Adam exclaimed, taking Kurt’s flushed hands in his own.

“Hello, pot. I’m kettle. You’re pink,” pointed out Kurt, and started giggling when Adam swatted at him affectionately.

Soon the food was moved to the counter, where the line was already waiting. He looked over at Adam. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Oh, I’ll…enjoy some movies and soup in bed. Catch up on my reading.”

Kurt said nothing to that for a few moments. Hours ago he’d expected a quiet day himself, had been able to excuse his not-returning to Lima on lack of funds (and a desire to avoid his ex.) But after Burt had appeared, the idea now seemed inexplicably lonely.

“Well, you’re sitting with us at the volunteer’s table tonight.” Kurt said crisply, voice leaving no room for argument. “Those are my terms if you want me to join the apples. Take it or leave it.”

Adam looked bemused, then amazed, and then laughed gleefully.

“You drive a hard bargain, sir. I’ll take it.”

-O-

Later that night, Adam would pass a cookie to Kurt that he’d made himself. It simply read, You’re Adorable.

And Kurt would stutter and look away, and Burt would lift a brow and throw an inscrutable look at his son, whom was glugging down cocoa to avoid answering. Burt’s uncertain expression would thaw (albeit begrudgingly) as Adam described his work as a counselor in the youth programs at the youth center, and his ragtag showchoir at NYADA, and how Kurt sounded like a silver bell at the winter showcase. (If Kurt hadn’t been red before, he was scarlet then.)

And Burt would invite Adam to take the Rockettes ticket he’d bought for Rachel before he knew she was leaving town. And Adam would stammer that no, he really couldn’t and Burt Hummel said calmly that he damn well could, and would because the tickets were non-refundable and ‘my kid just lit up like the star of Bethlehem, so will you not ruin my kid’s Christmas?’ And Adam was speechless, though he was already understanding that a wise man does not argue with Burt Hummel.

And Kurt would squeeze his hand underneath the table, and offer Adam the opportunity to come back home with them afterwards and eat too much food while they watched basketball (while his father did, anyway) and that sounded perfect, so of course Adam said yes. And of course Kurt would smile, eyes shining.

That would be their first Christmas together. It wasn’t their last.

Kadam Week 2017

Between a trip out of town, a dental procedure, and being distracted by the evils of U.S. Politics, I nearly forgot about this. But I need happy distraction, so here we go!  

Kadam week - aka  stories about Kurt Hummel and Adam Crawford as an ongoing couple - has traditionally happened on the first full week of May. Sunday the 7th - Saturday the 13th this year.  If you wish to participate, there is no limit - big or small - on the length of the stories. Please tag them Kadam Week 2017. I’ll try to round everything up (assuming anyone participates) into a master-post at the end. :)

Stories may be posted for any of these prompts at any time. So if Thursday’s prompt moves you and it’s only Tuesday?  I doubt anyone will complain!  

Sunday 

- One prompts an accidental allergic reaction in the other. Food? Itchy Material? Noxious Cologne? Pets?  

Monday 

- Adam witnesses Kurt fixing/working on a car for the first time. He is singing something unexpected, completely oblivious to his audience.

Tuesday 

- One of the guys has wisdom tooth/teeth out (or other dental misery) and needs a little TLC.

Wednesday 

-Someone strains, sprains, breaks, or otherwise injures himself doing something really stupid. How does his partner react?

Thursday 

- Kurt and Adam either meet or reunite while participating in a volunteer event

Friday 

- Kurt meets Adam’s ex-boyfriend and realizes that he may not have cornered the market on bad relationships. 

Saturday 

- One of the guys is stressing out over a pending event. (Parental visit, audition, work deadline, whatever you like as long as it causes a freak out.) How does the other get him through it? Or help him him celebrate getting through it?  

I'm not a prize to be won

Warren Worthington iii x reader

Summary: WARRENS GOTS A CRUSH

An: angsty and some curse words.
Love feed back. Sorry if it sucks. First Warren one shot. Requests open. Enjoy love you all.

You were the new kid. Well that was before Warren came to the school. You used to be the one everyone was afraid of. You didn’t want them to be but they were. You were kind of thankful for his arrival. People didn’t notice you as much and you were glad. Your mutation was simple you had power of manipulation and strength.

People noticed you because of you vibrant blue hair. NO matter what you did it would always stay blue. Occasionally it would change but you never understood why? Maybe because you were in a different mood.

When you met warren he flirted with you. At first it was nice until you noticed he did that with ever girl he came in contact with. You were nice to him because you knew what it was like to be an outsider. And he was definitely an outsider after the whole apocalypse fiasco.

You were friends with his friends well he was friends with your friends. You had never thought about it much. You would think about him constantly but when you would catch yourself you would mentally curse yourself out.

One day you were sitting down with Jean and Storm when Scott, Pete, and Warren walked in. You felt it and you couldn’t stop smiling. You quickly got up and left before you could embarrass yourself. When you made you way out you were stopped by Jean and Storm. They gave you the face and you knew.

You made your way to the restroom because you knew you were about to get scolded. And you would rather be scolded in the restroom than in front of everyone.

“So is there anything you want to tell us? ” Jean said aloud after Storm made sure no one else was in the restroom.

“I honestly don’t know what your talking about.” That wasn’t a complete lie they could be talking about anything.

“Come on y/n. Give it up, we know.”

“You know what?”

“We know you like Scott every time he walks in the room you leave. I figured you liked him. You two have been best friends before I came in the picture.” Jean said with a hint of jealousy. You knew Scott liked Jean and that they were cute together. You can honestly say you have never had a crush on your best friend.

“Me and Scott.You think… I like … Scott.” You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably. When you finally stopped and looked up at the girls they were more confused than ever.

“You don’t like Scott?” Stormed as one last time.

“No. God no. I mean yeah I like him. No I love him but the kind of love I have for him is nothing but a family type love. He’s like my older brother.”

“So then why do you always leave when he… Ohh you like Pete.”

“Oh my god no. If you stop guessing I will tell you both. So Jean you don’t have to read my mind” You paused before you told them.
“I like Warren, but I know he will never like me and I am not one to embarrass myself in front of guys. And I am not going to start anytime soon.”

“Omg our little y/n/n has a crush on the blondie.” They both said as you rolled your eyes.

Meanwhile-

“So Warren when are you going to ask the girl out. Because if you don’t I sure as hell will.” Pete spat out trying to get under his skin.

“Pete I will kick your ass if you do.”

“But seriously Warren when are you going to ask her out? ”

“Idk Scott. You know her better than anyone. What if she doesn’t like bad boys, she knows what I’ve done. She never talks to me so I’m taking it as she doesn’t like me.”

Scott knew about your crush. You two told each other everything. He didn’t want to bluntly say you had crush on Warren so Scott did what Scott does best.

“You know what Pete you should ask y/n out. Since scaredy cat Warren won’t. It won’t hurt to try.” He said bumping Peters shoulder.

“You know what I will. At this Friday’s dance I will ask her.” He said as Scott hyped him up.

Warren was furious. He liked you. God did he liked you but he knew his track record with girls. What would make you believe that you wouldn’t do what you did to them to you.

It was finally Friday. You didn’t want to go but the girls insisted. You Jean, Storm and Jubilee all got ready together. You all figured you would go as a group rather than in couples.

“My god y/n. You look good.” You blushed you always wanted to feel pretty.

“Thank you.” You said while blushing. As you made your way to the dance the group of boys were down the hall waiting for you all.

When you got there Jean accompanied Scott of course and the rest of you just walked not really sure who went with who.

When you guys made it in you were all standing in order: Scott, Jean, Kurt, Jubilee, Storm, Peter, You and finally Warren.

Scott and Jean made there way to the dance floor while the rest of you went to find a table. When you got there. There was enough seats for all of you. You say next to Peter and Warren. Before you could say anything. Kurt, Jubilee and Storm made there way to get food and drinks. You say there staring at the beautiful centerpiece.

You were quickly pulled away from your thoughts when Peter said something.

“What was that?” You asked you didn’t quite hear him.

“Oh I was just saying that you look beautiful tonight.” You blush not a lot to notice but you blushed.

“Well I can say you do look quite good yourself.” You said before shifting in your seat. You felt Warrens eyes. You didn’t say anything you were waiting, hoping he would say something.

“Are you thirsty I’ll go get us some punch?”

“I’m fine, you can go get some I’ll be here when you come back.” Before you realized what you said he was already to the drink table with the rest of them waiting in the long line.

You say quietly. This was the first time you and Warren had ever been alone. You shifted in your chair once more.

“I’m Warren.”

“I know who you are.” You said chuckling.

“Just making sure, you know ever time I see you. It’s like you avoid me.” You didn’t say anything you just fiddled with your hands.

“I apologize, if I uh.. Did something and don’t remember.” You were so confused as to why he would apologize to you. He never did anything wrong and Warren was not the type to apologize even if he did.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… Omg in sorry but I really like this song.” You said as you turned to find Jean and Scott giving you a thumbs up.

“Uh.. Do you dance?” You asked as you got up from your chair.

“No not really.” Warren replied. When he realized what he said he felt so dumb this was his chance and he wasted it.

“Oh.. Okay. Well I’ll see you around then.” You just looked at the ground and began to walk. You felt so dumb. How could anyone ever be attracted to you or want to dance with a freak like you. You knew you were all mutants here but you still felt like an outsider.

Before making it on the dance floor. A hand reached for your arm. You wiped your tear and turned slowly.

“Hey you okay.” Pete was by your side.

“Yeah in fine just going to dance.Want to join?” Before you could take it back you were in the middle of the dance floor with Pete.

He was surprisingly a good dancer and a gentlemen. When you two were done dancing you made it back to the table but before sitting down you asked Pete if he would join you to get punch. While you too went to get punch. Scott and Jean made there way to the table with the rest of the gang.

“So what happened?” Scott asked directing his question to Warren.

“I don’t know man. She asked to dance and I said no. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Warren she asked you to dance and you declined her. Why would you do that.”

“Jean I wasn’t thinking. I was nervous she makes me nervous. I have never felt like this and I screwed up and now she over there with speedo.”

“Talk to her, if you don’t you’ll just make this worse.” Scott said trying to get Warren to talk to you.

“She doesn’t like me. Why would she like me when she can have him.”

“God are you that oblivious or stupid? She likes you and you obviously hurt her look at her body language it is screaming he’s not who I want. Warren you go over there and talk to her or so help me.” Storm had, had enough. She slammed her drink down on the table and got up to get Pete and drag him to the dance floor.

“Go get her tiger.” Scott said patting Warrens shoulder before he dragged Kurt, jubilee and Jean to the dance floor. He got up to make his way over to you.

You were confused and standing alone. You wanted nothing more than to get to your room and cry. But you’ll be damn to ruin all the hard work your friends put into your hair and make-up.

“Hey.” You heard a recognizable voice and it startled you.

“ oh hey.” You said turning toward the punch bowl. Avoiding his gaze.

“Can we talk outside?”

“I’m actually about to go dance. How about later?” You said not really wanting an answer. You began to walk forward but was dragged out to the garden.

“Look I’m sorry for being an ass.”

“Warren just stop.” You said looking away while your arms are crossed.

“Just listen please.
Look I am an idiot okay. I like you a lot and when you asked me to dance I was nervous to say yes so I said no I don’t dance. Once it came out i felt horrible. I have been trying to tell you I like you for a while now but every time I see you you’re always leaving. I know you don’t like me who would. Look you don’t have to believe me but I like you and I know I don’t have a great track record with woman but you aren’t like them you’re different so please give me a shot.”

You were not ready for that. You felt the tears. Why was he telling you this? Should you believe him?

“Look I don’t know what game your playing or if you an Pete have a bet but count me out. I like you Warren but I’m not a toy and I am not a prize to be won.” You said before walking back into the mansion.

Warren didn’t know what to do. He had never told a girl how he felt. This was the first time he had. She was the first girl to make him want to change and be better. He knew that he had done a lot of shit but he never thought that you wouldn’t believe him. He stood out there for about ten minutes before he made it back inside. By the time he came in you were long gone.

The next morning the girls were knocking at your door. You looked like death you were crying and your hair was all gross.

“What do you want.” You said opening your door.

“Damn I don’t know who looks worse her or Warren.”

“What do you guys want.”

“Get in the shower or eel will get you in the shower.”

You just woke up and to get away from the telling you hoped in the shower. When finally out you got dressed and made your way to Scott’s room. When you got in there everyone was there.

“What do you want?” You asked furiously because you wanted to sleep in.

“ wait here.” And like that they were all gone. Then BAMF Warren was in the room with Scott and Jean and BAMF it was just you four.

“What do you guys want I’m not in the mood.”

“Just hear him out y/n” Scott insisted.

“Why? Aren’t you suppose to think about what’s best for me. He rejected me and then he saw I was with Pete and then Pete left me. And then all of a sudden he wants to pull me outside and confess his feelings? You know how I am about my feelings Scott and if you think that’s okay then I don’t know you the way I thought i did.” You said letting a few tears fall.

“Y/n I care about you and you know that. I want you to talk to him because you both deserve to be happy. ”

“Scott don’t. Just don’t” you tried to walk away but none other than Jean walked in front of you.

“Look I don’t know what happen but I do know he likes you very much and its not a prank or a bet. He likes you but he was an idiot and he should have told you but come on you didn’t really ever give Him a chance to.”

“Yeah I guess that’s true but Jean I don’t want to get heartbroken. I was hurt when he told me no to dance what if I trust him Jean. “We can’t know for sure y/n but I’ll be here from start to finish.”

“Fine, he has five minutes"you said aloud.

You walked over to Warren. You could see he had a rough night. You weren’t sure if you should feel bad or not.

“Look I like you and I really hope I am make this up to you.”

You stepped closer. “Why Warren. What is your angle. You have never been one to express your feelings why now!” You said your voice raising.

“I know how can you trust me. I honestly don’t know myself. All I know for sure though is that I will never hurt you and I’m not just saying this to say it. I mean it. You are the first girl to ever make me feel like this. It’s scared the shit out of me but I do promise you that I will take care of you if you let me.” He said as he wrapped one wing around your back pulling you closer.

You were inches no centimeters from each other.

“Warren if you-” but before you could finish his lips were on yours. They were soft and the way he kissed you had so much emotion. You didn’t want to leave his lips but you both needed air. As he pulled away you could feel your cheeks redden. You were thankful for Warrens beautiful wings to cover both of you from Scott and Jean

“So be my girl?” You answered his question with a kiss. You could really get use to his lips on yours.


@winter-childrens
@bovaria @starlight-9298 @capnbbarnes @vodkaauntwithwings

neverlands-little-lost-girl  asked:

Yo Kurt Wagner

my phone gave me a Christmas song I’m screaming. I may do a second part to this, so if you want it, just say. As usual, reblogs and likes are really appreciated!

Song: Presents - Alexander Rybak.

Lyrics That Inspired This Fanfic: Presents are waiting by the Christmas Tree. You can have them all, but this one’s for me.

Peter his head to the right so he could perhaps grab a glance at the name written on the present in his friend’s hand. He caught the first letter, but nothing more. It was neatly wrapped, as if a considerable amount of time was spent making sure it looked perfect, a blue bow to top it all off. And from the tension in his shoulders, Peter could tell that Kurt was refraining from fiddling with the gift out of obvious nerves.

Suspicion rose in Peter’s mind as to what the scribble of a name was, based on the first letter his dark eyes scanned upon. His normally pouty lips curled around the sides, subtly at first as first came to realize, and then more noticeably as he thought about it. The coincidence of Kurt pulling out your name, was astronomical. And the moment of opportunity, for Kurt to tell you how he feels about you, was nearly inevitable, if he didn’t screw up. Peter added on quickly inside of his mind.

“Who did you get for Secret Santa?” Peter inquired suddenly, shocking the teenager next to him. Clearing his throat, Kurt glanced over at him and picked up his lanky shoulders, as if to appear more intimidating. It didn’t work out as planned, and Kurt merely gave Peter a look of skepticism. If Kurt was correct, he wasn’t meant to tell anyone who he had pulled out of a hat two weeks prior to this moment. There was a secrecy to that act, hence it being called ‘Secret Santa’. In all honesty, he didn’t know what it was until two weeks ago, when Peter explained it to him.

“Who did you get?” Kurt retorted, glancing down at the present in Peter’s hand. Though it looked like a blob of newspaper, tied together by randomly placed pieces of tape, Kurt couldn’t help but feel how personal it was, even if it looked slightly like trash. But, that was okay. The wrapping, and the way it was done, surely showed Peter’s personality. Quickly wrapped with whatever he could find, which happened to look a lot like last Sunday’s newspaper. Murmuring something under his breath, Peter looked to the side with dark eyes and shrugged his shoulders. That action in itself caused a chuckle to stir from Kurt’s mouth, “If you don’t tell me who you got, I won’t tell you who I got.”

Peter, waving his hand absentmindedly, said, “I can wait. If it’s who I think, then I’ll be worth it.”

Those words rattled inside of Kurt’s mind. There was no way that Peter could have guessed. How could he have? Did he see the name that kurt had written? Did he see what name he drew two weeks ago? Swallowing ever so gently, Kurt glanced down at the gift and uttered, “I hope she likes it.”

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath in, and with his tail trailing stiffly behind him, Kurt made his way to the tree across the room and sat the present down under it. “I really shouldn’t tell you.”

“I got Jean three boxes of twinkies.” Peter laughed slightly and plopped his uniquely wrapped gift next to Kurt’s. “Nothing can be worse than that.” Now that Kurt was aware of whom Peter had drew out of the hat, and what gift he had decided to give, Kurt felt only slightly better. There was still an undoubtable feeling of self doubt and fear lingering closely in his chest, suffocating his breathing, and making thought irrational, and nearly impossible.

“I got her a necklace.” Kurt told Peter, “Silver, with a blue pendant.”

“How much money did you spend?” Peter wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“That doesn’t matter,” Kurt stated rather proudly, “what matters is if she’s going to like it…” His accented voice came to a slow, almost agonizing stop as you walked into the room.

“If she does find out it was you who got her the necklace can I be the one who holds a mistletoe between the two of you at the end of the night?” Peter asked with an amused tone of excitement, “Or better yet, can I be the best man at your wedding!?” But, Kurt was already a few feet in front of him, walking towards you. Giving it his all to not appear clumsy or unbalanced, Nightcrawler drew a deep breath into his lungs, feeling it expand before exhaling. If that was meant to help him relax, it wasn’t working. He could almost hear his heart beating in his ears.

Surely, Kurt had eased his way into the conversation you were having with Scott and Jean, and with a small smile, his eyes caught hold of yours momentarily. “I’m excited to see what I got.” Jean had started, followed by a chorus of ‘me too’ from Scott and yourself. Kurt, with raised eyebrows at Jean, nodded in agreement. He was eager to see. If there was the slight, very slight at best, chance that you may have drawn his name, then all things tonight would be perfect. But, there were very few ways of finding out who’s name you had drawn, and Kurt didn’t have it in him to ask around.

“Alright!” The sound of Charles Xavier rocketed over the dull Holiday music and chatter. “It seems like everyone is here, so why don’t we move onto presents?”

anonymous asked:

darkness

young and fumbling and a little insecure but they love each other so here we are

consider this what happened after the camera cut away during “The First Time”

(one word prompt thingy)

“Are you ready?” 

Kurt has never wanted anything this badly in his life, but he can’t seem to make words at the moment. His breath is loud and ragged in a way he’s too turned on to be self-conscious about, so he swallows and nods his head emphatically until Blaine smiles back at him. 

Blaine reaches over to his nightstand and turns off the lamp, covering them in darkness. 

“Oh, what about you? Am I too heavy? I should have asked before, sorry.” He doesn’t know what he’s doing, though his–their–first time has gone spectacularly so far. His boyfriend is warm and hard underneath him, and so hot, and it’s screwing with his concentration if he’s honest, but he’s trying his best to be his best for Blaine.

“I’m great. It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine answers, and Kurt feels him lift up a little to kiss him. His lips don’t quite land on target, his kiss right under Kurt’s nose, but he just laughs and slides his mouth a little lower to meet him as intended. 

“Okay. Good. Off with this, then,” Kurt says, gaining a little confidence at the way Blaine’s squeezing his butt eagerly. He pulls at the neckline of Blaine’s tank top. “Off, Blaine. Off.” 

Blaine laughs again, and as he reaches down to grab the bottom of his shirt, Kurt leans in, planning to kiss Blaine’s neck. Neither reaches his destination, as Blaine’s hand collides with Kurt’s chin. 

“Ow!”

“Oh - I couldn’t see you - “

“I’m okay, haha. Moved too quickly I guess. Here, let me just–” Kurt lifts his hips and grabs at Blaine’s waist until he finds the bottom of the shirt, then pulls it up for him. 

“Oh, wow…”

“What?” 

“It’s… I like how it feels when you take my clothes off, instead of me. Keep going?” Blaine raises his arms above his head, and Kurt keeps lifting the shirt until–

“Omph– wait, Kurt, I’m stuck–” Blaine makes a choking noise and Kurt immediately lets go of the shirt, putting his hands on Blaine’s chest. “Shirt was around my neck,” he says, pulling it the rest of the way off himself.

“Sorry!” Kurt slides his hands lower, idly squeezing at the chubby area around Blaine’s belly button. 

Blaine makes a sudden intake of breath and Kurt feels him suck in his stomach a little under Kurt’s hands. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice suddenly way softer and shakier than it was a moment ago. “Um. Your turn.” 

Kurt moves to sit up on his knees just as Blaine sits up to reach for his t-shirt, and misjudging how much space either of them has, Kurt knees Blaine in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Blaine doesn’t make a sound, but Kurt certainly feels his knee make contact. “Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

He gasps for breath, coughing a little, then finally gropes around in the air until he can grab Kurt’s arm. “I’m… I’m okay.”

“This isn’t working, hold on–” Kurt reaches over and turns the lamp back on.

Blaine crosses his arms over his stomach, still getting his breath back.

“This is much better. I don’t think we need the light off.”

“I dunno, it was okay…” Blaine mumbles, shyly looking up at him.

“We’ll end up hurting each other before we finally fuck each other,” Kurt snorts, his eyes going wide as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Kurt!” Blaine gasps, shocked laughter shaking his body. He bites his lip, eyes roving over Kurt’s face as he reaches up and cups Kurt’s cheek–making contact on the first try this time.

Kurt barrels forward, feeling braver by the second, and kisses down Blaine’s palm. “I want to keep the lights on. I want all of this with you and I don’t want to miss anything.” He sits on top of Blaine again, leaning down to kiss at all that warm, tan, gorgeous skin on Blaine’s chest, then looks up at Blaine through his eyelashes and says, “I like being able to see you. You make this hotter.”

He doesn’t know it, but he’s just said exactly what Blaine needs to hear. Blaine completely relaxes underneath him, letting go, letting Kurt look. 

“Now… are you ready?”

Blaine nods wordlessly, intertwining their fingers. Kurt gives him one last kiss on the lips, then resumes his slow trip towards the equator.

Klaine one-shot - “Safe Haven” (Rated T)

Kurt rescues a stray black kitten he finds hiding in a dumpster on Halloween night. He figures he’ll keep it for the evening, just so it’ll be safe, and then bring it to a shelter the following morning. The only problem he foresees having is trying to find a way to keep Blaine, who wants a cat badly, from falling in love with the thing before that happens. (1482 words)

Fluff.

Inspired by this prompt.

Read on AO3.

Kurt doesn’t need a cat. He doesn’t even necessarily want a cat. He’s not opposed to cats in general, he just doesn’t want one in his apartment, clawing at his flea market furniture or shredding his vintage scarves. Besides, he’s never been fully convinced that an animal that does its business in a box of sand should be kept indoors. Santana and Brittany have a Siamese that has a horrible habit of climbing in bed with them while they’re having sex. Santana claims it’s the yowling and high-pitched moaning that lures it up there, makes it feel comfortable.

No thank you.

But when Kurt sees the shivering creature cowering behind a dumpster in an alley near home, he knows immediately that he has to rescue the poor thing.

Because it’s a black cat, and today is Halloween.

Keep reading

I Wouldn’t Leave You If You Let Me

I’ve been out of sorts with my Blindspot muse lately. I have several ask prompts sitting in my inbox that I need to get to, so I apologize to my askers for not having answered them yet—promise it will happen! I think once the show starts back up, I’ll be back on track. I hate writing not having some idea of what direction it’s already headed in for the characters, since I’m such a canon whore, but this random Jeller-ish snippet hit me tonight. I’m not sure where it came from. Hope y’all enjoy it. :)

Music inspiration, Halsey’s “Is There Somewhere”.

Title: I Wouldn’t Leave You If You Let Me
Ship: Jeller
Summary: Everything always leads him back to her.

Keep reading

Maybe We Can Be Okay

Prompt #857: Blaine loves Kurt and Kurt loves Blaine more than anything. But one night Kurt comes home angry from school and forces himself upon Blaine. He’s blind with his anger and doesn’t hear Blaine’s cries and pleads for Kurt to stop. Blaine is terrified and doesn’t understand how his loving fiance could rape him. The next day, Blaine is still scared out of his mind and Kurt doesn’t understand why.

A/N: Potential spoilers for the story that might convince you to read it. If you’re already going to read it, just skip to the story, if not, continue, I might change your mind. Kurt is not evil. He does a bad, VERY bad thing, but he’s not evil. I tried to keep him as in character as I could for the actual rape scene (which is explicit) and that was difficult because rape is such a terrible thing and Kurt is not a terrible person. I hope I did that well though, I would really like feedback on that part from you guys, please and thank you. BUT, the majority of the story is about the aftermath (the entire thing is about 9,000 words long and the rape scene is about 1,000, with about 500 words of set up before that, so 85% of this story is how they move on) and Kurt, the morning after, does not know what he’s done, he doesn’t remember it. He vaguely remembers having sex with Blaine but he doesn’t realize it was forced. And when Kurt finally find out what he did he is horrified, and from that point forward Kurt’s goal is to help Blaine and he only focuses on what Blaine wants/needs, and if Blaine wanted to never see Kurt again, Kurt would leave, no questions asked, but that’s not what Blaine wants. This is one of those stories that I REALLY want some feedback on because I slaved and slaved over it and I think it turned out really well. It is unbeta’d though, so there may be a few grammatical errors here and there. That’s really all I have to say, so on to the story.

Blaine paced the apartment, spinning his phone in his hands. Kurt’s classes had gotten out almost five hours ago and he still wasn’t home and every one of Blaine’s calls and texts had gone unanswered. He took in a shaky breath, dialing Kurt’s number again. It rang one and a half times before it was ignored. Blaine bit back a sob, clutching the phone to his ear.

“H-hey, baby, I-I understand if you’re still angry about this mor-morning, but could you please just tell-tell me where you are. A simple text, that’s a-all I’m asking. You don’t even have to—” he broked off with a ragged breath, “you don’t even have to come home, just… just let me know you’re okay, please?” He sniffled, wiping his nose, muttering out a weak “I love you” before hanging up.

Blaine looked around the apartment tiredly before dropping down on the couch and pulling his knees to his chest. He stared at his phone, trying desperately to not let his mind return to the fight they’d had that morning. He needed to talk it out with Kurt and dwelling on it without him would just make him more upset.

It had been stupid, really. Kurt had gotten really good at managing his money during his first year in New York, but Blaine still wanted some say in what they spent it on. They both worked and brought home money, so they should both have a say in the budgeting, but Kurt was dead set on his way and wouldn’t let up at all. It lead to a huge fight over breakfast before they’d had to leave it unresolved and go to school.

Now Kurt was late getting home and was ignoring his calls and the deep pit of dread and fear and worry in Blaine’s stomach was making him sick and his chest felt like it was being squeezed by a boa constrictor as he gasped out short breaths, hugging himself tightly. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, rocking back and forth, before a text came through on his phone.

Kurt: Out with Elliot and some other guys, don’t wait up.

Blaine’s eyes welled with fresh tears before he chucked his phone against the wall and stood up. He stomped to the curtained off section of the loft that was their room and angrily threw off his clothes, not bothering to even put them in the hamper (Kurt would hate that, he thought. Good.), until he was only in his boxers. He crawled under the covers, wrapping the duvet tightly around himself and screamed into his pillow. He screamed and screamed until his shouts were no more than hoarse whispers and his throat burned with the salty tears streaming down his face.

He cried himself to sleep, sobs wracking his small frame.

——

A few hours later he was woken by the strong smell of alcohol entering the room. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell, and in frustration at Kurt for going out drinking. He pretended to be asleep, not willing to deal with Kurt right then, especially since he seemed to be heavily intoxicated, if the crashes Blaine kept hearing coming from around the room and Kurt’s muttered swears were any clue.

Finally, it seemed Kurt had gotten out of his clothes and climbed into bed next to Blaine, struggling to shove his arm under the tight burrito like wrap Blaine had managed with his half of the blanket.

Blaine closed his eyes again, refusing to reciprocate Kurt’s attempts at cuddling, but then the blanket around his neck was pushed down and he felt Kurt’s warm breath as he pressed messy kisses along his shoulders. Blaine froze, shell shocked for a moment. He peeked at the alarm clock and saw that it was 4:28 in the morning. They had to get up in less than three hours and Kurt wanted to have sex?

“Mmm, I hate fighting with you,” Kurt breathed against his back, hand slowly forcing the blanket down, his lips travelled up Blaine’s jaw but he just shrugged him off.

“I’m not in the mood,” Blaine said, trying to make his voice strong but his voice was still hoarse from his screaming fit.

It didn’t deter Kurt, “I’m sorry about earlier, baby, let me make it up to you,” he whispered, nibbling at his ear while his hand made it’s way under the blanket to cup him through his briefs. Blaine gasped at the friction, hips snapping forward against his will as Kurt massaged him to half hardness. He almost forgot why he’d been protesting until Kurt brought their mouths together and he could tasted the sharpness of the alcohol on his tongue.

“No,” he croaked out, fighting to pull away from Kurt. He cringed as Kurt’s grasp on his crotch tightened painfully.

“Turn over,” Kurt breathed in his ear.

“No, Kurt, I—”

Kurt rolled him onto his stomach anyway, kicking the blanket off the bed.

Blaine started to push himself up, starting to get frustrated and a little worried at Kurt’s persistence. “Kurt, I’m really not—” Kurt pushed him back down into the bed, digging his hands into his shoulders.

“You’re tense, baby,” Kurt commented, his hands working over Blaine’s back. The massage should have felt good but Kurt’s hands were too strong and insistent, digging into the knots in Blaine’s muscles with too much force.

“Kurt, stop, really, I don’t—” Blaine jolted when Kurt’s hands slid his briefs down to his knees.

“Have I told you lately how much I love your ass?” Kurt said, nails digging into Blaine’s skin as he worked it over and Blaine couldn’t help the way he keened into the touch, ass lifting into the air, “It’s so…” he suddenly brought his hand down on his ass, hard, making Blaine cry out, “jiggly.” He brought his hand down again and Blaine jerked forward.

“Kurt, don’t—”

Another smack made him cry out and try to scramble away, suddenly fearful of Kurt’s obliviousness to Blaine’s protests. He knew his voice was small and wrecked but… Kurt should be able to hear him, right?

Kurt gripped his hips, pulling him backwards. “Sometimes, I just want to look at you ass all the time. Look at it… touch it,” he rubbed the cheeks again in soothing circles that did little to calm Blaine’s racing heart, “taste it,” he spread the cheeks, burying his face between them and lapping hungrily at Blaine’s hole.

Blaine sobbed out, a shiver running up his spine at the sensation. It felt so good but so wrong, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want it at all. “Kurt, please,” he whimpered squirming and trying to get away but Kurt’s grip was strong and he surged forward, spearing his tongue and forcing it into Blaine’s hole.

Blaine whined, tears filling his eyes because of how wrong everything felt. “Stop, Kurt, stop,” he pleaded, twisting in his hold. Kurt’s mouth left and Blaine relaxed, thinking Kurt had finally heard him, until he shoved a finger in with just his spit for lube.

Blaine cried out, whole body tensing at the intrusion. They’d used their spit many times before in fits of desperation when they didn’t have anything else, and it always burned, but this… his tense muscles and Kurt’s lack of care as he fucked his finger into Blaine made the pain almost unbearable.

“Kurt, please, stop, stop, stop,” he whimpered, trying to jerk away from the finger but that just made Kurt pull him back onto it and, god, that burned. He was gasping for breath when he finally heard the pop of the lube bottle and the second finger was inserted. He wasn’t ready, he was nowhere near ready, but that didn’t stop Kurt from working it into him and scissoring his fingers against the resistance.

Blaine buried his face his arms, tears streaming down his face, hoping, praying that Kurt would realize that he didn’t want it, that he would stop and just… the fingers were gone and Blaine sagged in relief.

“Kurt—” he croaked out, but then he felt the blunt tip of Kurt’s cock pressing against his hole, “No!” he screeched, twisting desperately, “No, no, I’m not…” his words broke off into a hoarse cry as Kurt pressed in, stretching him too wide and too quickly. The searing pain that shot up his spine choked off Blaine’s scream as he gasped for breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kurt gave him a few seconds to adjust, and if Blaine hadn’t been gritting his teeth against the pain he would have thought to protest again, but all too soon Kurt was moving.

Blaine gripped the sheets below him, shaking his head and whimpering out soft, barely audible “no’s” as Kurt pounded into him, his grip on his hips bruising. Blaine barely registered when Kurt stilled inside of him, letting out a long, drawn out moan with his release. Kurt reached around, to grip Blaine’s cock and found it soft.

“Did you already come, sweetie?” he breathed and Blaine just sniffled, “that’s so hot,” he mumbled, pulling out carefully before dropping onto the bed next to Blaine. He threw an arm across his back, pulling him close and burying his face in Blaine’s hair. “I love you,” he muttered and Blaine choked back a sob, curling into Kurt.

——

They both slept through their alarms. Kurt was the first to wake up a little before noon with a throbbing headache. He groaned weakly, rubbing at his eyes, and pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked around the room, seeing clothes strewn everywhere and the image of him and Blaine having sex last night slowly made it’s way past the fog of his hangover.

He rolled over, smiling at the sight of Blaine curled into a ball in a cocoon of blankets. He scooted closer, kissing the top of his head gently. Blaine jolted awake with wide, terrified eyes, shying away from Kurt.

“Baby?” Kurt asked, brow furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

Blaine stared at him, breath ragged for a few minutes before he choked out, “N-nightmare,” his voice was hoarse and hard to hear.

“Are you sick?”

Blaine didn’t respond, his whole body still tense.

“I’ll make you some tea, does that sound good?”

Blaine’s brow furrowed as he studied Kurt’s face for a minute before nodding slowly. Kurt smiled and leaned forward to give Blaine a quick kiss but Blaine jerked back.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” Kurt said, face drawn in worry.

Blaine shook himself, forcing out a smile, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked, “still just… nightmare.”

Kurt nodded, “We can talk about it after I get some aspirin, okay?” Blaine accepted the kiss this time, only tensing a little and then Kurt was clambering out of bed in search of pain meds and coffee, snatching a pair of sweatpants on the way.

Blaine took a few deep, steadying breaths, thinking through everything from the night before. Kurt had been rough, but… that was normal, right? They were rough with each other all the time. Blaine was constantly begging for harder, faster, when they had sex. This was just… Kurt giving it to him without him asking. And at the end of it all he’d still cuddled him close and said I love you…

Yeah, it was fine, it was normal sex. Kurt didn’t act like there was anything weird about it, so why should he? He was just over exaggerating it in his mind because he’d been upset, everything was fine.

Blaine still flinched in fear when Kurt called that the tea was ready.

——

Blaine shrugged off Kurt’s attempts to talk about his nightmare. It was stupid anyway. He’d had rough sex with his fiance’, no big deal, him being scared didn’t make any sense to him, how would he explain it to Kurt?

It also wasn’t weird when he told Kurt that he should control the finances. It had nothing to do with the pit in his stomach at the thought of another fight over it and the potential for Kurt going at drinking again.

——

They lounged around the whole day, hanging out on the couch and watching bad reality TV. Kurt napped for a little bit, his arms wrapped around tightly around Blaine’s waist. Blaine tried to do the same, but every time he would doze off for a couple of minutes his mind would assault him with images from the night before. The feeling of Kurt’s hands gripping his hips to tightly and his cock feeling like it was splitting him open.

He’d jolt awake each time, heart hammering in his chest, palms sweating. Part of him told him to run, to get away from Kurt, but he forced it down, slowly relaxing back into Kurt’s chest.

——

Nighttime wasn’t much better for his nightmares. He’d sleep for an hour before he’d be forced awake, hands clutching at Kurt’s chest. He wanted to find comfort in Kurt’s arms like he always did, but instead he pulled out of Kurt’s embrace and shifting as far away from his as possible, clinging to the side of the bed.

The nightmares calmed a bit.

——

After a week of flinching every time Kurt moved too quickly near him, or tensing when he’d lean in for a quick kiss,  and constant dreams about that night, Blaine’s resolve that it was just rough sex was starting to waver. The constant nightmares meant he could remember everytime he said no, everytime he tried to pull away, and every time Kurt kept going. And he had no clue how to deal with it.

Kurt was at One Three Hill practice and Blaine had the apartment to himself. He wasn’t sure how he came across it, as he was just mindlessly searching the internet for something to quiet his racing thoughts, but he found himself on a rape survivors chat room.

He tried to focus on other things but he kept switching back over to the chat room tab and finally… he started to type.

BDA1994: I think I might have been raped…

It took a few minutes, but finally someone replied to him.

LLSprinkles: Were you drugged?

BDA1994:  No… I just, don’t know if it was actually rape.

LLSprinkles: Did you say no?

BDA1994: Yeah, but my voice was hoarse, I don’t think he heard me.

LLSprinkles: Did you try to pull away?

BDA1994: Yeah…

LLSprinkles: Then you were raped. Why don’t you think it was actually rape?

Blaine hesitated. Because he loves me, because he’s never done anything like this before, because he was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing…

BDA1994: Because I don’t want to believe it.

——

The girl he’d been talking to gave him the number to a hotline he could call to talk about it if he needed. He put it in his phone but didn’t call. He wasn’t there yet. He was sure Kurt had raped him now… but he was sure he hadn’t meant to.

He sat on the couch, staring at the show on the TV but not really watching it. He heard Kurt come back into the loft but didn’t acknowledge it. His mind was blank for once and he didn’t want to try and focus on anything. He just want to exist without worrying.

Kurt came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and squeezing gently. “It’s been a long week,” he whispered and Blaine could smell alcohol on his breath.

He stiffened, “You’ve been drinking,” he said, his voice wavering.

“I just had a beer during practice,” he shrugged, starting to nibble on his ear, “Maybe we can… go to the bedroom?”

Blaine pulled away, standing, “I don’t like having sex with you when you’re drunk, I prefer for you to actually remember it in the morning” he said, wrapping his arms around himself.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not drunk, I had one beer, I won’t even have a hangover tomorrow, what’s your deal?”

Blaine’s throat closed, last time you drank you raped me, the confession tried to blurt it’s way out, but Blaine forced it down. He couldn’t tell Kurt that, he hadn’t known what he was doing… if Kurt ever found out what he’d done… it would break him.

“Nothing,” he choked out, “I’m just tired.”

——

Blaine distanced himself from Kurt over the next week, and if Kurt noticed he doesn’t say anything, most likely waiting for Blaine to come to him with his problems, but Blaine couldn’t do that. There was one place he could turn to if he needed it… he stared at the number in his phone constantly, trying to work up the nerve to call.

——

It was a Sunday, neither of them had class or any responsibilities and Kurt missed his boyfriend. Blaine had been strange the past week, avoiding him, staying away from the loft until late and then coming home and going straight to bed. Kurt cuddled him close every night but when he’s wake up Blaine was always on the opposite side of the bed. He didn’t know what’s going on. He’s tried to wait until Blaine came to him but after more than a week of avoidance it looked like he was going to have to be the initiator.

He knows Blaine’s almost always more willing to talk to him when he’s sated and happy after sex. Like being that vulnerable around Kurt with his body reminds him that he can trust him with his thoughts. Kurt made them dinner, and they ate, talking occasionally, the conversation stilted and awkward with Blaine flashing Kurt fake smiles that fell into a blank expression when he thought Kurt wasn’t looking anymore.

Blaine was doing dishes afterwards when Kurt came up and wrapped his arms around his waist. Blaine tensed as Kurt kissed the side of his neck gently. “How about we save dishes for later?” Kurt whispered, hands tugging Blaine’s shirt from where it was tucked into his jeans.

Blaine froze for a minute, soapy hands hanging over the sink, useless, before he finally managed a soft, “I’m not in the mood.”

Kurt took his earlobe between his teeth and Blaine shuddered, “I can help you… get in the mood,” his hands travelled south, cupping Blaine through his pants and that’s when he jerked away, pulling out of Kurt’s grip.

“I-I’m not in the mood,” he repeated, voice shaking and arms wrapped tightly around himself. He couldn’t meet Kurt’s eye and something sick settled in the pit of Kurt’s stomach. He knew that look, it was the look he got before he told him he cheated, that fearful need to tell him something that he knows it going to upset Kurt.

“Blaine, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked, hoping that it was not what he fears it is.

“N-nothing,” Blaine said too quickly, “I’m just not in the mood, okay?” he flinched at the volume of his own voice, curling in on himself in fear.

Kurt sighed, “Fine, fine, we won’t talk about, we’ll just ignore whatever is going on with you until finally you explode and do something stupid, just like we always do because you won’t talk to me.”

Blaine cowered as Kurt’s voice rose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I just… I-I can’t…”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “Yeah, you never can,” he said before storming across the room to grab his jacket.

Blaine spun around, “Wha-where are you going?” he asked, voice high and desperate.

“Out with people that actually trust me,” he spat back before leaving and slamming the door shut behind him.

Blaine fell to his knees, pulling out his phone.

A gentle, female voice answered, “Rape survivors hotline, how may I help you?”

——

By the time Kurt was finished with his first beer he knew he was wrong to storm out on Blaine like that. If Blaine was struggling with something he should have been there, reminded him that he could tell him anything, and waited until he was ready to talk. He waved goodbye to Elliot who was on the dancefloor before stepping outside to hail a taxi and go home.

The apartment was silent when he entered and at first he thought Blaine was gone until he noticed his shadow out of the fire escape. He walked closer and could hear Blaine speaking quietly to someone with hitching breaths. Anger and sadness spiked in his chest at the fact that Blaine was talking to someone else about his problems but he pushed it down. Blaine would come to him when he was ready. He instead went to the kitchen and warmed some milk.

Blaine came back inside about half an hour later, looking tired and sad but less tense than he had all week. He paused when he saw Kurt in the kitchen. “Y-you came back,” he said.

Kurt nodded, “I’m sorry for leaving like that. You-you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but just… know that you can, okay? You can tell me anything.”

Blaine gave him a weak smile, “I know, but… I was gonna go take a shower, if that’s alright? Maybe we’ll talk after?”

Kurt just nodded dumbly. Blaine set his phone on the kitchen table and left. Kurt’s attention was drawn to his phone. Blaine had confessed his problem to someone, and that phone could tell him who. They could tell him what was going on even if Blaine never did. But shouldn’t he trust Blaine to tell him? That would be an invasion of his privacy to look at his phone, it could take away all the trust they have…

He battled with himself for a good ten minutes before he finally snatched the phone up and went to Blaine’s call history. He expected to find Sam or Tina’s number there, maybe even Cooper’s, but the contact was simply named Help. Kurt’s brow furrowed as he hit the call button. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Rape survivors hotline, how may I help you?”

Kurt’s heart stopped, his hand falling limp. A rape hotline? Blaine was raped? That would explain Blaine’s aversion to being touched but why would he avoid Kurt? Kurt would like to think that he’d be the one person Blaine would let near him after something like that, instead he was pushing him away. Why? Had this happened recently or was the pain of it just now catching up to Blaine? Could it be an anniversary…

“Kurt?” Blaine’s small, timid voice broke through his thoughts, “What are you doing with my phone?”

Kurt looked at him with tear filled eyes, “Blaine,” he choked out.

Blaine took the phone from his hands and saw the open call, he quickly hung up and shoved it back in his pocket. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, “I just… Blaine, that was a rape hotline.”

Kurt could see Blaine’s walls closing up around him as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I… I dialed the wrong number,” he tried.

“You talked to them for over an hour, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that you were raped?”

Blaine flinched violently, his hands curling into tight fists.

“When did this happen?”

Blaine swallowed, “A few weeks ago,” he whispered.

Kurt’s throat closed as he thought about Blaine going through the pain of this by himself for a few weeks. “C’mon,” he said, standing. He reached for Blaine’s hand but pulled back when he cowered away from him. He took a deep, shaking breath before leading the way to couch in the front room. He sat on one side and Blaine sat on the other, sitting stiffly with his eyes glued to the floor.

“Who was it?” he asked and Blaine shook his head quickly.

“You don’t know?”

Blaine shook his head again.

“Blaine… we need to go to the police, get the asshole locked up, do you remember what he looked like?”

“I-I don’t want him in jail,” Blaine whimpered.

“Why not?” Kurt practically shouted causing Blaine jerk in his seat. He lowered his voice, “That man is a monster.”

Blaine covered his mouth, sobbing and shaking his head, “No-no, he’s not.”

“He raped you, Blaine,” Kurt argued.

“He d-didn’t know,” his voice almost sound pleading and Kurt couldn’t figure out why Blaine was defending that man.

“How do you not know you’re raping someone?”

Blaine sniffled, “He-he was drunk and… and I’d lost my voice, he couldn’t hear me saying no—”

“Then he definitely didn’t hear you saying yes,” Kurt spat.

Blaine just covered his face with his hands and sobbed. “He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it,” he cried, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Kurt.

“You knew him?” Kurt asked and Blaine nodded weakly. Kurt’s mind raced with all the possible culprits, namely any gay man they both knew, Adam, Elliot, Sebastian, Karofsky… but why would any of them not need a definite yes to have sex with Blaine? The only person that wouldn’t need a spoken “yes I want to have sex with you” would be…

Kurt’s breath caught in his throat, “No… no, no, nononono,” he hand flew up to his mouth as he played through what he could remember of the last time they’d had sex. Blaine bucking underneath him in desperation… to be fucked or to get away? Blaine screaming out in ecstasy or in pain? Him being soft because he’d already come, or because he’d never been hard in the first place?

Blaine’s defense made sense now, trying to justify it and say he didn’t mean to because it was Kurt. Kurt had raped Blaine.

Kurt stood up quickly, legs feeling weak as he bolted to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees just in time to empty his stomach into the porcelain bowl. He dry heaved for a few more minutes before taking in shaking breaths. He could hear Blaine’s soft, hitching breaths behind him, muttering out quiet, “I’m sorry’s” that made Kurt feel even more sick because why was Blaine apologizing?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, shh,” Kurt hushed him once he could breath again, “none of this is your fault,” he wanted to reach out and hold him but knew that wouldn’t help at all. He was a rapist, he had raped his boyfriend.

Blaine crumbled to his knees, fingers digging into his sides as he held himself. Kurt tried to think of a plan, something to do, but he didn’t know, he didn’t know what he should do. He just wanted to hold Blaine and sob apologies into his hair, make sure he knew that nothing like that would ever happen again, and Blaine would probably let him. If that’s what Kurt wanted Blaine would let him. He would do anything to make Kurt happy, even try and pretend that his boyfriend hadn’t raped him just to make Kurt feel better. Kurt couldn’t do something for himself, he had to do what Blaine needed.

“Blaine,” Kurt said gently, forcing his voice to be strong. He couldn’t break down, not yet. Blaine looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, “what do you need me to do? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation, what do you need?”

Blaine just shook his head.

“Do you need some time alone?” Kurt’s heart broke at the thought of leaving Blaine like this but he couldn’t do anything for him since he was the cause of Blaine’s fear. “I can go stay at Elliot’s for a little while and you can call Tina, or-or Sam and they can come visit, does that sound good?”

Blaine’s bottom lip quivered but he nodded slowly.

“What else do you need? Do you—” his whole being shattered at the question he was about to ask, “do you want this back?” he asked, pulling his engagement ring off and holding it out to Blaine.

“No!” Blaine shouted, scrambling backwards, “Please, please don’t leave me, please,” he sobbed, “please, I need you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly, voice thick, “I raped you, I don’t think I deserve to be your fiance’ anymore, much less your boyfriend.”

“No, no, no,” Blaine cried, rocking back and forth, “you didn’t mean it, you didn’t mean it.”

“Okay, okay, here,” Kurt said, “I’ll keep it,” he put it in the breast pocket of his shirt, “and if one day you feel safe with me again, I will gladly be your fiance’, okay?”

Blaine nodded weakly, tears still tracking down his face.

“What else do you need?”

Blaine looked down at his knees, “Don’t… don’t drink anymore,” he pleaded.

Kurt nodded, “Yeah, yeah, of course, no more alcohol. I’ll throw away my fake ID… I’ll even go to anger management, would that make you feel better?”

Blaine sniffled, “I-I guess… you weren’t really angry, though, just… drunk and horny and I’d screamed myself hoarse so you couldn’t hear me saying no, it’s not your fau—”

“Don’t,” Kurt cut him off, “drunk or not I still should have read your body language. Whether or not I can hear you saying no doesn’t change the fact that you were saying no. And for all I know with how splotchy my memory of that night is, I did hear you and I just didn’t care.”

Blaine flinched.

“None of this is your fault, okay? And I will do everything I can to earn your trust back.”

“I do—”

Kurt raised his hand to cup Blaine’s face and the younger boy jerked away. “No,” Kurt whispered, “you don’t.”

——

Kurt hung around until Dani could come over, but he kept his distance from Blaine, trying to give him space even though he refused to leave him all alone. Dani arrived with a duffle bag of things that should last her until Sam could catch a flight back. She didn’t know what was going on, and Kurt would leave that up to Blaine to tell her if he wished, but she knew that Kurt and Blaine needed some time apart but Kurt didn’t want Blaine to be alone.

Kurt hugged her, looking solemn and on the edge of breaking but like he was fighting to keep it together for Blaine’s sake. “Take care of him,” he whispered, breath hitching. She just nodded.

“Blaine,” Kurt called carefully. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV. He blinked and turned his head towards them at the sound of his name. Kurt approached him cautiously, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “I wanted you to have this,” he said, handing Blaine his fake ID, “do whatever you want with it, throw it in the trash, shred it, burn it, whatever. Just so that you know it’s gone, okay?”

Blaine nodded, tears filling his eyes, “I-I love you,” he said, voice small and broken.

Kurt’s lips trembled, “I love you, too.”

He finally broke down in the elevator.

——

Kurt went through the motions of life for the next week, not really paying much attention to what he was doing. He got yelled at in his dance class, forgot a paper for his musical theory class, and barely remembered a thing his professors said. He just… didn’t care.

He went by the apartment on Thursday to grab some new sets of clothes, but only after texting Sam to make sure Blaine wasn’t there. Elliot still had no clue why Kurt was staying with him, or why he cried himself to sleep every night. Kurt was too ashamed to tell him. He could tell Blaine had told Sam, though, by the way he’d watched him carefully when he stopped by to pick something up. He didn’t know what Sam expected him to do since Blaine wasn’t even there, but it didn’t makes him feel any less like a monster.

He went to a therapist and told him the situation. For some reason telling a stranger he’d raped his boyfriend was easier than telling one of his best friends.

He kept the ring in his pocket like he’d promised Blaine, but it felt like it was burning him, constantly reminding him of what he’d done to Blaine. He needed to see him, missed him like crazy, but he knew this was not about what he needed, this was all for Blaine. His presence was hurting Blaine so he would leave him alone, he just didn’t know how long he had to wait.

——

Blaine didn’t leave his room for the first three days after Kurt left. He’d been fighting through his life, trying to pretend everything was fine for Kurt and now that Kurt knew… there was no point. The deep dark hole of depression had been calling to him since it happened and now he just… let it take him.

Dani tried to get him to eat and shower, but he’d only take a few bites of whatever she’d made before collapsing back on the bed and sleeping again. He slept a lot, making up for the nights plagued by nightmares of Kurt hurting him even more than he already had.

On Wednesday Sam arrived and plopped down on the bed beside him. “You smell,” he commented. Blaine didn’t respond, just remained curled in a ball, clutching Kurt’s pillow to his chest. It smelled like him, that was one of the things about Kurt that didn’t scare him anymore. He hadn’t smelled like himself that night, he’d smelled like sweat and vodka and other people’s cologne’s. His smell was crisp and clean and it was all he had of his once safe place that wasn’t terrifying.

“So…” Sam said, “are you mad at Kurt or is he mad at you?”

“Neither of us are mad,” Blaine mumbled.

Sam’s brow furrowed, “You’re fighting, but you’re not mad?”

“We’re not fighting.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he pursed his lips, “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re not fighting and neither of you are angry, and yet Kurt has moved into Elliott’s for the time being and you haven’t gotten out of bed for three days. Why?”

Blaine swallowed hard. He hadn’t told Dani. He hadn’t told anyone except for Kurt and the girl from the rape hotline. But this was Sam, and he really needed someone to talk to that knew him and Kurt but wasn’t directly involved in the situation. He flipped over, resting his head on Sam’s leg, burying his face in Kurt’s pillow to compose himself.

“H-he raped me,” Blaine breathed.

——

Blaine started going back to classes, it was easier after having talked it out with Sam. He still didn’t know what him and Kurt were going to do, but he felt better, less confused about everything after he actually thought back on Kurt’s reaction to what he had done. He knew it wouldn’t happen again. He still needed some time, and he wasn’t sure when he would fully be able to trust Kurt again, but at the very least he knew he wouldn’t hurt him like that. It didn’t make him any less afraid of him, though.

It was another two weeks before Elliott and Sam decided they needed an intervention. Blaine was better, but felt like Kurt still need time away from him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that separating was entirely for Blaine and Kurt was dying without knowing how he was doing. Even if he couldn’t hold him or kiss he he just wanted to see him, to see that that sad, broken, distant look was fading from his eyes, and that he was eating again, and maybe even having real, genuine smiles.

Kurt texted Sam once he got out of his last class for the day to make sure that Blaine wasn’t home before heading over there. He stepped into the apartment, smiling when he saw the sewing machine out and several newly made bowties sitting next to it. Blaine got crafty when he was sad. He went to the bedroom, emptying his bag of clothes into the hamper before going to the closet to pick out some new stuff. He was trying to pick between his green camo skinny jeans and his dark green shorts when he heard a small gasp.

He jerked around, eyes going wide at the sight of Blaine with just a towel around his waist, hair and body wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower. “S-sorry,” he blurted, “Um… Sam said you were out.”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed, “My only class today got cancelled, I-I told him to go out and do something, he looked bored being stuck in the loft because of me, but he knew I was going to be here all day.”

Kurt sighed, “Of course he did,” he ran a hand across his face, “I’ll just… go,” he muttered, shoving the couple sets of clothes he’d picked out in his bag.

“Those’ll wrinkle,” Blaine commented.

“Elliott has one of those clothes steamers,” Kurt shrugged.

Blaine nodded, looking torn.

“Well, I’ll… um, see you, sometime?” Kurt said, slowly heading to the door. His hand was on the door when Blaine’s voice stopped him.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered quietly, like he was on the verge of tears.

Kurt stopped, still facing away, “Is that what you need?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know what I need, but this is what I want,” Blaine said.

Kurt turned back, a smile on his face. He wanted to rush Blaine, pick up and spin him around and kiss him senseless. But he held himself back, “ Okay,” he said quietly, “I’ll stay.”

——

The spent the rest of the afternoon talking. Kurt had started to bring up the rape and how Blaine was dealing with stuff but Blaine just shook his head. They’d talk about that later. For now he just wanted to talk with his boyfriend about stupid, everyday stuff.

Kurt wasn’t sure how he felt about Blaine calling him his boyfriend, it lifted his heart with joy that the weeks apart hadn’t shown Blaine what a monster he was, but at the same time it worried him. He was undeserving of that title, undeserving of the ring that still rested in his pocket. But he wasn’t going to correct Blaine.

They talked until it was dark and Sam brought home some chinese takeout before nonchalantly saying that he’d met this hot undergrad girl and so he’d be gone for the rest of the night. He gave Kurt a stern look before leaving again.

“I’ve got an early class tomorrow,” Kurt sighed.

“Yeah… me too,” Blaine frowned.

“I guess I’ll… go back to Elliott’s?” Kurt left it as a question.

“Do you…” Blaine paused, “do you want to?”

Kurt shrugged, “Not really, but I want whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Blaine’s brow furrowed and he seemed to truly be thinking hard about what he wanted. Finally he looked up at Kurt, “I want you to stay.”

Kurt nodded, smiling and itching to hug Blaine or just hold his hand.

“I’ll stay.”

——

Blaine got tense when Kurt mentioned sharing the bed so he assured him he’d sleep on the couch.

“But your back—” Blaine protested.

“Will be fine,” Kurt said, “we have a nice couch.”

Blaine frowned but didn’t fight him on it,

They were getting their pajamas from the room together when Kurt noticed that his pillow was still on the bed, wrinkled and towards the center like someone had been cuddling with it. He paused, not sure what to make of it. Blaine followed his line of sight to the pillow.

“It smells like you,” he said quietly.

Kurt blinked at him, “I—”

“You…” Blaine took a deep breath, “you didn’t smell like yourself that night… it’s a nice reminder that you and-and the person that did this aren’t the same person.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said slowly, “it-it was me, I’m the one that did it, we’re the same person.”

“I know, I know,” Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor, “you are, but… if I think of it like that, and remind myself that the person that did it, that part of you, isn’t you and isn’t going to come around again—”

“Of course he won’t.”

“—then it makes everything less confusing. It’s difficult the reconcile you, my sweet, loving fiance’ who treats me like I’m the most precious thing in the whole world with the you from that night. But if I think of them as different people, it just… makes it easier.”

Kurt sat slowly on the side of the bed, “Blaine… don’t try and force yourself to forgive me. I want you to feel safe, and I will do whatever it takes to do that, even if it means never seeing you again. If you want me to move out, I will, if you want me out of your life, I’ll leave, if you want me here, I’ll stay. Just… don’t do something because you think it’s what I want, because what I want doesn’t matter. My opinion lost it’s validity the first time you said no and I kept going, okay?”

Blaine nodded, “I know, and-and I don’t forgive you, it’s just that—you’re my world, Kurt, you’re my everything, and I’m trying to cope and make everything makes sense, and that’s how I’m doing it. It’s not for you, it’s for me, because I physically ache right now because all I want to do is curl up in your arms and never leave, but I can’t, because I know in a few hours something will happen and I’ll forget that you’re youare not him. I don’t know if that even makes sense, but I think being around you more will help me stabilize that line and remind myself that he’s not coming back.”

Kurt just nodded, not sure how to respond.

——

“I’m seeing a therapist,” Kurt said over breakfast, “he’s helping me with my… anger issues and how to deal with them in healthier ways than drinking.”

Blaine smiled softly, “I’m glad.”

“He said it might also be good if you saw him too. He could get… both of our points of view. I still don’t really remember much, I’ve been trying but it’s all still foggy. You could go alone or… someone could go with you…”

Blaine pressed his lips into a thin line, “Would-would you go with me?”

Kurt swallowed, “Of course, yeah, of course I would.”

——

His name was Dr. Rosenthal and he was very nice. He didn’t look at Blaine in a pitying way, and that made Blaine like him. He hated being pitied.

“Blaine, this may seem like an odd question, but do you want Kurt to be here?” was the first thing he asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” Blaine responded, brow furrowed.

“And he’s not forcing you to say that in any way?”

Kurt’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to stare out the window. Dr. Rosenthal was right to be skeptical, Kurt was the abuser in this relationship, and having him here could change Blaine’s answers. But Blaine wanted him here, so here he would stay.

“No-no, of course not.”

“Okay, I just have to check. If at any point you would like him to leave you can say so and he can wait in the other room until you’re ready for him to come back in. Do not be afraid to ask for him to leave,” he glanced meaningfully at a surveillance camera in the corner and Blaine could only assume that there was someone watching through that camera that would stop Kurt from hurting either of them if he got angry. Blaine knew he wouldn’t need them, though. If he asked, Kurt would leave, there was no question in his mind.

Blaine nodded.

“Let’s start with the morning, Kurt said you were fighting?”

“Um yes, yes we were.”

“Was Kurt violent at all during the fight?”

“No, no, he barely even rose his voice.”

Dr. Rosenthal nodded, and jotted something down in his notebook, “What was the fight about, Blaine?”

“Um, finances. Kurt’s been managing them, but I wanted some say in our budgeting. Since it’s our money I thought I should have an equal say in what we spend it on.”

“And since then you’ve changed your mind. Why?”

Blaine swallowed, glancing at Kurt who was watching him closely. “I-I was scared,” he paused, rubbing his hands together, fighting the urge to reach for Kurt. He wasn’t sure whether that would help him or not.

“Scared of what?”

“Of-of fighting again. Of him going out drinking again and…” he trailed off, blinking against the pressure behind his eyes.

“And raping you again?” Dr. Rosenthal supplied.

Kurt sucked in a deep breath, folding his arms across his chest and looking away.

Blaine nodded slowly, “But-but I wasn’t calling it that at the time.”

Kurt frowned, “What were you calling it?” he asked without thinking.

Blaine looked at him, biting his lip, “Rough sex,” he shrugged.

“And when did you start calling it rape?” Dr. Rosenthal asked.

“About a week or so after it happened. I was just so scared all the time, and I kept having nightmares that reminded me how many times I said no and told him to stop and he didn’t listen. I couldn’t deny it anymore.”

“And yet you didn’t confront him on it till more than a week later,” Dr. Rosenthal mused.

“I-I didn’t plan on confronting him at all,” he whispered, hanging his head.

Kurt’s hands twitched but he fought against the urge to hold Blaine. He looked so sad and beaten down and he wanted to kill himself for making Blaine look like that.

“Why didn’t you want Kurt to find out?” Dr Rosenthal asked gently.

Blaine took a deep breath, “Because he didn’t know and if he didn’t remember and he was back to being his old self again, the man who loves me more than anything, and brings me home cronuts when I’ve had a bad day, and kisses away my tears, and who would be willing to kill if someone ever hurt me like that. If I told him what he’d done… I knew it would break him.” Blaine spoke quickly, feeling the lump forming in his throat and growing with every word until the last sentence was a barely audible whisper. He reached blindly for Kurt’s hand, needing some form of contact to show him that Kurt wasn’t broken and he was still here with him.

Kurt hesitantly took it, holding it loosely in his hand until Blaine squeezed tight and Kurt matched the pressure. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “but please, please never do that again. If you’re hurting, tell me, even if you think it will hurt me. Because seeing you sad is always going to hurt me, and especially knowing I’m the cause of it, but if I don’t know I can’t help. And as helpless and useless as this whole situation has made me feel, because I know I can’t be the one to help you, not knowing what’s wrong is even worse.”

“I know, but…” Blaine felt like he should protest but he didn’t know how.

“Blaine, Kurt’s right. You can’t keep things like this from him, it’s not good for your relationship. I know you’re told to put others first, and you especially want to do that with your loved ones, but you also need to do things for you. Do you understand?”

Blaine nodded. He still wanted to protest but he didn’t even know what he would say. He just clung to Kurt’s hand like a lifeline, focussing on his gentle grip as Dr. Rosenthal started asking questions again.

——

Touch started coming easier after that. Not a lot at once or for extended periods of time, but a bump of the shoulders, a brush of the fingertips, a playful poke or kick. They all felt nice and Blaine let them happen. He wasn’t sure when he would be ready for more, but he figured it would just happen when it happened.

He surprised Kurt one day by setting up a bed in Rachel’s old room. They never had found something to do with the space and Blaine hated the thought of Kurt sleeping on the couch every night when they had room for another bed.

Neither of them had thought when Kurt threw his arms around him in thanks. Blaine stiffened for a second at the sudden contact and Kurt started to pull away and apologize but Blaine just hugged him back. It felt nice to be held again.

——

It had been almost seven months since the rape and Blaine was feeling great. He was more relaxed around Kurt than either of them could ever remember. He didn’t hold back his thoughts anymore. If he had something he needed to say, he’s say it. He didn’t worry about how Kurt would take it. After weeks of going to the therapist together they knew each others darkest secrets, there really was no point in hiding from each other.

They’d gotten to the point where they could cuddle again, but they only ever did it with Blaine holding Kurt. They’d never actually talked about it, but Kurt figured Blaine would feel better if he wasn’t being restrained by Kurt’s arms around him. Blaine just liked being close to Kurt again.

The nightmares had disappeared for the most part but every once in a while one would come out of nowhere, shaking Blaine to the core. But he started to realize as time went on, that the man holding him down was slowly morphing into something else. Something big and menacing and very… not Kurt. And the more he changed the less scary he became. He was like the boogeyman, hiding in the back of his closet, faceless, and he felt like he should be more scared of him that he was. But he wasn’t. Because everytime he woke up screaming Kurt would be sitting at the edge of his bed, face full of concern and worry, hands held up like he wanted to soothe him but didn’t know if that would be welcome and Blaine would relax again, beckoning Kurt towards him.

And every night Kurt would sit beside him, nimble fingers playing with Blaine’s wild curls until he fell back into a dreamless sleep. And then he would leave and go back to his own bed.

Blaine was really starting to wish he’d stay.

——

They stumbled back into the apartment together after a very successful One Three Hill concert, giggly and holding onto each other for support. Blaine’s mind was in happy overdrive from a night spent with friends and his beautiful fiance’, being happy and together and without thinking about everything that had happened over the past few months.

“Do you want some warm mi—mmpf,” Kurt’s question was cut short as Blaine yanked him down, smashing their mouths together. Kurt was frozen in shock for a few seconds before he slowly kissed back, arms wrapping around Blaine’s shoulders to hold him closer.

Blaine,” Kurt breathed when they broke apart with a gasp, “wha—”

“Warm milk sounds great,” Blaine said with a bright smile, giving Kurt another quick peck on the lips before he danced off to the bedroom.

Kurt just stood there for a minute, staring after Blaine in shock, lips tingling from the kiss. He finally shook himself and went about warming the milk in a pot on the stove. He pulled out the cinnamon for Blaine and waited.

Blaine came out of his room in his pajamas, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. He stood there, holding him close with a soft smile on his face. “You should go change,” he muttered.

Kurt nodded, “Yeah…” he said, but Blaine didn’t let go, “but… I kind of need to move to do that.”

“What? You can’t just snap your fingers and change into your PJs?” Blaine asked in mock shock.

“Nope, I’ve been lying to you about my superpowers the whole time,” Kurt shrugged.

Blaine gasped, “I’ve been engaged to a liar this whole time?”

Kurt smiled bashfully. Blaine was the only one to label their relationship out loud. Kurt was too scared to do so in case one day Blaine decided he wasn’t comfortable and corrected him.

“Do you still have the ring?” Blaine asked, tone serious.

Kurt nodded, patting his breast pocket.

Blaine turned him around slowly, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the ring. He took Kurt’s left hand in his, sliding the ring back into place on his finger and bringing it to his lips.

Kurt took in a shaky breath when Blaine looked at him, with such love and calmness. The fear had completely dissipated and Kurt was so grateful. There had been days, during a big fight, or after one of his nightmares, when he was sure Blaine would finally tell him he couldn’t do it anymore. That what Kurt had done was too much and he would never feel safe around him again. But here he was, trusting him when Kurt still wasn’t sure he deserved to be trusted.

“I forgive you,” Blaine whispered, “and I love you, so, so much. There may still be times when I get a little scared, times when I have nightmares about it, but I’m on my way to being okay, and I need you here with me, okay?”

Kurt nodded, tears clogging his throat.

Blaine leaned up to give him a soft, chaste kiss. “Now go get changed, I’ll finish the milk.”

——

That night Blaine pulled Kurt to his bedroom with him. Kurt protested at first, scared Blaine was trying to push himself too far but Blaine just shook his head.

“Just… hold me, okay?” he whispered.

Kurt nodded slowly, climbing under the covers, Blaine curled up against his chest and Kurt gently wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. As Blaine slowly drifted off to sleep, his ear pressed against Kurt’s chest, the persistent ache that had been there since Blaine told him what he had done started to fade and Kurt thought, maybe they would be okay.

“Camera Obscura” - Kurt/Blaine

Anon prompted: Can you write a story based on Darren’s new photoshoot?

 *sobs*

~2700 words | AO3

Someone is screaming outside.

Kurt leans a hip against the open window and peers down at the street one story below. Two tall, slender teenagers, a girl and a boy, chatter excitedly to a shorter man with slick black hair and a bright purple polo as he signs the backs of their phone cases.

“You’re one of my idols, Mr. Anderson,” the girl tells him, her words quick and clear as she speaks, her huge mane of black curls bouncing as she punctuates her sentences. “I went to your alma mater, before it burned down—”

“I hadn’t even heard they were allowing girls at Dalton. That’s amazing.”

She replies, “I was the first and only,” and Kurt can tell she’s proud by the way she tosses her hair back.

“A pioneer,” the man grins, holding a hand out to shake hers. “I can’t believe I got to meet you.”

Kurt grins, completely charmed. Judging by the look on her face, he’s probably just made this girl’s week.

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Delta Token We, Part 2

I so, so do not need this tonight.  Not tonight.  Not after today, not after EVERYTHING today…

Jane stumbled to a halt, staring at the man who had risen from her stoop, eyes on her.

“Kurt?”  It came out as a question, but of course it was him.  Of course.  After the mole hunt, after the fallout, after she’d fled from Oscar on the rooftop… of course it was Kurt.  

“Jane.  We need to talk.”

Of course we do.  More lies she’d have to tell him, more lies on top of lies on top of everything else.  And suddenly, she was tired.  Bone-deep tired, weary beyond all imagining, and any response she could have made died before reaching her vocal cords.  She felt herself nodding, numb to the physical sensation of it, moving past him up the steps.

“Hey. You okay?”  His hand was on her arm, his eyes shifting from unreadable to concerned.  It very nearly undid her, because no, she wasn’t okay - nowhere in the neighborhood of okay, and it felt like she would never, ever be even remotely okay again - not that she ever had been, not since waking up in that bag…

“I’m just tired.”  She hated that her voice trembled, but a partial truth was, at least, truth.  She tried, and failed, to smile reassuringly.

“Been a hell of a day.”

And now I need to lie to you on top of everything else?  Yes, it certainly has been.

She fumbled with the keys, moved through the door ahead of him, knowing that he’d want to be covering her back, even now.  Inside, she offered him the sofa, waited for him to settle himself.

“Can I… get you something to drink?”  Establish some semblance of normalcy… for yourself and for him.  He just wants to talk.  It’s not another interrogation, whatever it feels like…

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”  

So she settled into the facing chair, forcing herself not to sag with exhaustion, met his waiting gaze.  She felt her lips try to form words, but no words came.  She cleared her throat, tried again.

“So.  We need to talk.”

He was gazing at her with an expression halfway between concern and… something else, something more guarded.  He was clearly having some inner conversation with himself as he studied her.  Finally, he shook his head, rose.

“I’m sorry.  This was a bad idea.  You’re wiped… “  He was moving to the door, and before he could reach it, she’d intercepted him.  Why, she didn’t know… wouldn’t it be so much better, so much easier, if he did go?

“You wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”  She tried reading his face, but he was walling himself off from her, keeping his emotions behind a bland mask.  “Kurt.  We’ve both had the day from hell… but here you are.  Just… just say what you came to say.”

She was shaking.  Why was she shaking?

Because it’s too much.  Because it’s too damned much, and you’re scared to death of what he’s going to lump on top of it all.  

“Where were you?”  His eyes, not breaking their gaze, searched her face. “Just now.  Where were you?”

“I couldn’t unwind.  I… I took a walk.”

“A walk.”  It was a statement, not a question.  There was an edge to it, and she tensed.  He glanced away, his hand still resting on the door.  “Just like the walk you took the night Carter vanished, or different?”  A beat, then softly, “Fischer showed me the pictures, Jane.”

She had no reply for him, no lie to cover the lies she’d told by omission.  She just stared.

“You don’t trust me.”  She licked her lips, took half a step backwards. “I… I guess I understand that.  The others… Reade, Zapata, Mayfair… do they…”

“Fischer put some doubt there, yeah.  They thought I was crazy, you know.  For believing you.”  She looked away, feeling her cheeks burn. “I don’t regret believing you.  But…”

“But you don’t trust me, because of Fischer.”  Another half-step back, putting a buffer of distance between them.  “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“That depends.”  And his voice sounded… odd.  Stiff.  Strained. “It depends on you.  You still haven’t answered my question.  Are you going to?”  Silence.  “You don’t trust me, Jane?”

“I trust you.”  Her voice was small.  “Kurt, it’s… it’s complicated.  What happened that night… it changes things.  And I don’t know how to tell you.  If you’d even believe me.”

“Have I ever not believed you?”  Now there was anger there, the faintest hint.  “You say you trust me.  So trust me, Jane.  ‘Cause this - this doesn’t feel very much like trust to me.”

She flinched at that, as his words struck like a tangible blow.  Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing beginning to come in ragged gasps.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t… tell him, and he’ll never trust you again.  Don’t tell him, you’re going to lose him anyway…

It would be a bitterly laughable situation, if it didn’t terrify her so much.  She looked around her, not entirely sure why, just wanting to find somewhere to put her eyes other than on his.

“Kurt, I can’t…”

“Can’t?  Or won’t?”

“That’s not fair…”

“No.  No, this isn’t fair.  I’ve believed you, Jane.  I’ve trusted you.  And I’ve never, ever asked anything of you up to this point that I wouldn’t have asked Reade or Zapata or myself.  Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through, it’s been to keep you safe… to help you find out who did this to you.”  He dropped his voice, but the anger in it only intensified. “And I’ve backed off every time you needed me to, Jane.  But I can’t back off this time.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”  Stall.  Throw his words back at him.

“Both.”

Silence filled the space between them.  She wanted to run - to bolt, to run and keep running, to put space between her and all the lies, all the questions. Tears prickled at her eyes, and she turned away.

“The night… the night I left you at your apartment, Carter’s men jumped me on the way home.”  She wiped at her eyes, dashing the tears away, angry now.  Angry at him for backing her into this corner, angry at herself for getting there to begin with.  “They took me to a room.  Carter was there, waiting.  They strapped me to a table, and he waterboarded me.  I couldn’t answer any of his questions the way he wanted me to.”  

Water.

Water in her nose, her throat.  

No air, choking, gagging, lungs burning as she inhaled water...

“And when I couldn’t answer him, he had… other ways…”

The drill whined, close to her ear…

“He was going to get his answers, one way or another…”

Water.

Drowning in open air.

The drill.

“And you didn’t tell someone?”  Kurt’s voice, so close that she felt his breath, made her jump.  The low, furious tone was as close to a growl as she’d ever heard.  “He did that to you… and you didn’t say a damned thing to me?  To Mayfair?  To any of us?”

“I’m telling you NOW!”  The pain of that night ripped her voice raw, and now she met his gaze glare for glare.  “I didn’t know how to tell you before.  I don’t know how to tell you now!”

“How did you get away?”  His tone was softer now, as close to apology as he’d likely come, given the conversation.

And now… the hard part.

“A man.  A man shot Carter.  Killed Carter.  He let me go.”  He saw the naked disbelief in his face.  “I didn’t know who he was… but I… remembered him.  From before.  He… he knew me.  He’d been following me.  He let me go.”

He waited for her to continue.  She watched his shoulders relax the tiniest bit, his breathing even out, while her own muscles coiled into iron knots.  What was  he seeing in her, right now?  What could he read from her face?

Kurt reached out, almost hesitant, then brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers.  He shook his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  His voice was soft as a fresh bruise, and she closed her eyes against it.  His palm pressed to her skin, warm, yielding.  “Jane.  Why?”

Because he was my only link to my past.

Because everyone else who’s had any connection to that pastl has ended up dead.

Because he wanted me to turn on you, on my team, on the only things that feel real to me anymore.

Because I did, and I was the mole, and Fischer almost found out… everything.

She wanted to tell him.  God, she wanted to tell him everything, to unburden herself, to share the weight of it all… but the words caught in her throat, knotted there, and came out as a choked sob…

And then his arms were around her, and her face was pressed to his chest, and she was weeping into his shirt as the horror of it… of what had happened, of what she’d tried to hide, of all that remained unsaid, all of it cascaded over her in a cold wave.

I want to tell you, Kurt, but I don’t know how…

I can’t lose you.  And if I told you…

The sobs shook her to her core, and she let them come, let him hold her through them, felt his lips press to the top of her head, firm and tender, as he stroked the back of her head with fingers both clumsy and gentle.  Words from one of her past sessions with Dr. Borden filtered through her mind…

“He’s your friend.  Your colleague.  Your protector.”

He’s my starting point.  My endpoint.  My everything.

I can’t lose you, Kurt.

I won’t.

———————————————————————————

(Okay, that’s it.  My first Blindspot fanfic.  I can’t say I’m thrilled with how part two unfolded… I’d planned something entirely different, but Jane had other ideas and refused to go where I was trying to steer her.  Kurt being Kurt, once I’d turned the POV over to Jane, he just clammed up on me.  Men.  At any rate, I hope I haven’t disappointed too many of you kind folks who liked my first part.  If I can manage it, I’ll try for something fluffy and shippy once I get through the next few weeks of hell at work.  Thanks for reading.  ~C)

Fic: Decking the Halls

IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE, Y’ALL. I WROTE A THING.

From @otpprompts:  Your OTP is decorating the Christmas tree when Person A playfully puts the star on Person B’s head. ~900 words, T for slight drinking.

“God, I love the smell of Christmas trees,” Kurt said, taking a deep breath and smiling widely. “Remind me how happy I was in this moment when I inevitably bitch about how much this thing sheds in a few weeks, okay?”

“Only if you promise not to shiv me with one of the branches,” Blaine teased. “You get cranky when your socks are full of pine needles.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kurt teased back. “Now: lights, then tinsel, then ornaments?”

“Is there any other way?” Blaine asked. “C’mon, help me unearth our lights.”

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anonymous prompted: Kurt using bp!Blaine as a cockwarmer. It’s totally consensual and Blaine loved being ordered to sit on Kurt’s cock when he watches TV or suck him when he’s eating dinner.

Blaine’s curled up on the sofa, flipping through a magazine when he hears the jingle of keys as the front door is unlocked. Then in comes Kurt, who kicks the door shut and drops all his things down on the floor before collapsing face-first down onto the couch.

“Hi,” Blaine says, mouth quirked up as he shifts closer.

“I’m exhausted, and it’s barely 5 o'clock.” Kurt raises his arms and stretches his long body out on the couch, groaning happily. “How do you feel about take-out tonight?”

“Wonderful,” Blaine murmurs as he straddles Kurt’s lap, making quick work of unzipping his pants. “There’s a Project Runway marathon going on, if you’re interested.”

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“Unzipped” - Kurt/Blaine

A bit of naughty domestic fluff inspired by this post and dedicated to the greatest sweater Kurt Hummel ever wore

because breakfast is the most important meal of the day

1400 words | AO3

“Mmm… that smells amazing.”

Kurt startles at the sound of Blaine’s sleep-raspy voice, the only indication he’s made that he is awake and out of bed. He’s padding silently across the hardwood floor in their kitchen when Kurt looks over his shoulder, his expression soft and heavy-eyed under his messy curls. “Good morning,” Kurt says, puckering his lips for a kiss when Blaine gets close. Blaine kisses him back, but it’s much longer and deeper than Kurt expected, Blaine making a pleased humming noise against Kurt’s lips as he nips gently at the bottom one.

His lips tingle when Blaine lets go. “Well,” he sighs with a little laugh. “I guess that’s my ‘good morning.’ I hope you’re in the mood for french toast.”

Blaine doesn’t respond, instead gently turning Kurt back towards the stove and moving his kisses down the side of Kurt’s neck. He’s half-hard against Kurt’s ass when he grips Kurt’s waist and presses himself along his back.

Kurt takes a deep breath, instinctively leaning into Blaine’s touch with a bemused little smile on his face. “Blaine?”

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Kurt finds out about the baby. Part Two of this. Spoilers for 5x15 Bash. TW: Assault. MPREG (for those of you who didn’t already know???)

The first thing that Kurt noticed when he woke up was that he hurt. His entire body ached, harsh throbbing in some places, little twinges in others, but mostly, it just hurt. A groan slipped from his lips and he grimaced, body twitching a bit as the act of even pushing a sound through his vocal cords made the aching even worse.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” a voice on his right side murmured and he blinked his eyes open the best he could, blearily taking in the sight of his very worried, watery-eyed fiance.

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