kln fics

Fic: We Are the Reckless

Professor!Kurt, TA!Blaine. M. ~2k

Kurt sighs into his empty coffee cup as he looks at the mountain of papers left for him to grade. He’d sent Blaine, his assistant, a text begging for help and a fresh cup of coffee, then retreated to the professor’s lounge. The room was empty, save for one other professor, a friendly woman buried behind her own Great Wall of Midterms. 

The papers in front of him jumble into an unintelligible mess, and after hours of reading the same questions and answers over and over, he finds himself making obvious mistakes in his grading. 

“Hey K- uh, Professor Hummel.” Blaine steps into the room with a two coffees in hand. It’s the most beautiful sight Kurt has laid eyes on and it takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to kiss Blaine’s cheek when he sets the steaming paper cup in front of him. 

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Fic: Klaine Roadhead, ~1.4k

Blaine’s face squishes against the window and his breath steams up the glass as he watches the endless parade of trees through glazed eyes. It’s been nothing but cars and trees and trees and cars for hours now, and he’s been hoping he’d at least catch sight of a bear, or Sasquatch, or anything that would make this stretch of highway a little bit more tolerable. Even Kurt looks bored senseless, with one hand loosely on the bottom of the wheel, fingers drumming to the beat of the music, and the other against the door, propping his head up.

The sun brushes the tops of the trees she he kicks his shoes off and rests his feet up on the dashboard. They’ve been driving for four hours now and his legs are already protesting, the muscles sore and aching from the time cramped up in his seat. The drive back to Ohio from New York isn’t terribly long, but it feels like an eternity when he’s trapped inside the car. He can’t even roll the window down, the late summer air is too cold, the wind too strong.

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Cis!Girl Klaine, ~1.3k, M

Kurt stands in front of her full-length mirror, arms held out at her side and tilting her head at her reflection. The tankini she had bought the other day doesn’t fit her right, bagging at her chest awkwardly, but she doesn’t have the time or patience to try and sew the material into something that fits better. She sighs to herself, resigned to a day at the beach with a less than perfectly tailored outfit, and steps into a pair of shorts before shoving a towel into her beach bag.

There’s a gentle knock at the door and Blaine pokes her head in the room. Her usually straightened hair has been pulled up into a loose ponytail and left natural. She hates it, but Kurt had smiled when she saw it and wrapped her finger around a loose curl.

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