~730 words of indulgent cuddle-centric fluff. G. Inspired by Jim and the Povolos’ “Holding You.”
When the buzzing and ringing of his phone alarm finally become impossible to sleep through, Kurt had to restrain himself from just flinging his phone out the window in annoyance.
“It should be illegal to have to get up this early,” he muttered, reaching out to silence his phone before it could wake Blaine, who was spooned up behind him like a koala bear.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, voice crackly with sleep. He nuzzled into the back of Kurt’s neck for a moment before pressing a fleeting kiss into his hairline.
“Shhh, honey. Go back to sleep,” Kurt said, turning to face Blaine and run a gentle hand through his hair. “I’m the only one of us who has to be to work early.”
“Wanna enjoy some time with you,” Blaine said, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Once he finished, he wrapped his arms back around Kurt’s waist. “We’re going to be so busy today that this might be my only chance until we get back to bed later tonight.”
“I’m so excited!” Blaine said, swinging his and Kurt’s joined hands higher than strictly necessary as they walked up the stairs of the subway station. “I can’t believe the skating rink at the Rockefeller Center is still open even though we’re already into March.”
“It’s been cold enough,” Kurt observed, smiling at his husband. “So at least the ice won’t end up melting beneath us, which is possibly the only thing I won’t have to worry about while skating.”
“Hey, I won’t let you fall,” Blaine said with a squeeze of Kurt’s hand. “And I’ve seen you skate before, I know you can do it.”
“When we went skating that Christmas, I’d just gone with Rachel and What’s-his-face a couple weeks before - I still remembered how to balance. I haven’t been skating since then, so I’m probably about to faceplant into the ice in front of a bunch of tourists.”
anon prompted: Can you write a fic where married klaine are having sexy times, maybe using some toys, but something goes wrong (maybe something hurts/toy is used wrong) and one of tem has to use their safeword that they never have had to use before and the other one is all flustered and like ok ok ok we’re stopping and then it’s just kind of funny
Briefly R but then mostly PG-13, ~700 words.
“Oooh - ahh - yes, Blaine, like that!”
Kurt moaned wordlessly as Blaine shifted his hips downward and kept thrusting. He flexed his hands uselessly, caught between loving the sensation of being tied up and hating that he couldn’t just grab Blaine and position him exactly where he wanted him to go.
“I’ve got you, babe,” Blaine panted. He shifted so his hands were intertwined with Kurt’s against the headboard, giving him new and better - oh God somuch better - leverage.
It’s after their last (or so they claim) good night kiss that Kurt says it, still dazed from the sensation of Blaine’s lips against his own.
“I kissed him, you know.”
“Walter. I kissed him.”
“Okay?” Blaine says, running a hand over Kurt’s back. Kurt’s not looking, but he can still picture the confusion on Blaine’s face. “And I kissed Dave. That tends to happen when you’re dating.”
Kurt pushes back and up on one elbow, trying to clear his woozy mind.
“No, of course. I just meant…it never felt like this.”
“I’m going to need you to elaborate a little more,” Blaine says, mirroring Kurt’s position.
“When you kiss me, I forget everything,” Kurt says, hoping his words make sense. “Seriously. I might not be able to tell you my own name if you ask right after we finish kissing. But when I kissed Walter…nothing. It was nice, sure. Kind of interesting logistically, since he and you aren’t the same height. But nothing like this.”
Blaine’s eyes glint with soft understanding, but his voice is teasing as he asks, “So you’re saying I can kiss you stupid?”
“What? That’s important news,” Blaine says, but he drops the joke. “I know what you mean, though. Not that I didn’t enjoy kissing Dave, but it never felt quite as…all-encompassing as it does with you. I never felt like I needed to kiss him like I do with you sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” Kurt asks, taking his turn to tease. “I’m losing my touch.”
“Never. I think we’re both aware at this point that you’ve got an unbreakable grip on me.”
“Good thing you’ve got the same on me, then.”
They kiss again, and Kurt feels his brain go as fuzzy as always. A muffled whine escapes him as they break apart.
“What’s your father’s name?
Blaine snickers, clearing some of Kurt’s mental fog.
“You were serious.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Kurt says, a mock frown on his face.
“I had to give it a try,” Blaine says, kissing Kurt’s cheek in apology.
“You see now? No one affects me like you.”
“As long as you see that you affect me just as much.”
“I do seem to remember someone falling down the stairs yesterday when they got lost in my eyes….”
“My point exactly. We’re both gone for each other.”
beydc prompted “Last night I got into a fight with my husband. I told him to take what’s his and leave. He picked me up and walked straight out of the door” and lalalenii requested “
more Kurt wooing Blaine,” so I combined those ideas and created THIS *waves hands a la Vanna White*
~1300 words, PG-13 for language.
Kurt didn’t remember exactly how the fight started, honestly. He and Blaine had both been taking their stressful weeks out on each other rather than their therapists, and a snide comment from one of them had somehow turned into a screaming match with no end in sight.
“You don’t know how to be quiet in the mornings!”
“You can’t handle something being even a centimeter out of place!”
“You are so pigheaded!”
“I’m pigheaded? Pot calling kettle!”
“Why do I even put up with you?”
“Fuck if I know. But I’m done putting up with you. Just take your stuff and get out,” Blaine said coldly, turning away from Kurt.
Kurt’s numbing bubble of rage popped at that, making his stomach sink down to his toes.
Based off this picture, because it is so effing cute. ~900 words, PG with a little cursing.
Much to his surprise, Blaine really enjoyed hitting the gym with Kurt every couple of days. He suspected that part of his enjoyment came from being able to watch Kurt’s muscles stretch in various enticing ways as he went through his workout, but Blaine also did like how fulfilled and strong he felt after a good session. He may never lose the little pooch of belly he had, but he could tell he was in the best shape of his life regardless, so he wasn’t concerned.
(It helped that Kurt had drunkenly admitted to him once that he loved how comfy Blaine’s belly was as a pillow, if he was being entirely honest.)
Whatever the reasoning behind it was, Blaine was still riding an endorphin high as he and Kurt finished up their workouts one afternoon. He had been focusing more on core work and stretching that day, while Kurt had been doing some killer arm and leg routine he’d found online that apparently worked miracles, for reasons unknown to Blaine. Once he’d finished his cool-off crunches, Blaine headed off to the locker room, knowing Kurt wouldn’t be far behind.
“Hey, baby,” Blaine said cheerfully as he stepped out of the shower. “You able to break a concrete block with your hand yet?”
Kurt just groaned from his place on the bench, halfway between his gym clothes and his street clothes. “I think I’m broken.”
Could you write a fic where Kurt pretends to be mad at Blaine because of something and Blaine thinks he’s really upset after he teases Kurt about it and Kurt doesn’t relent and then Blaine just thinks he’s screwed up once again and then he cries and I want it to be hurt and comforty please!!! I didn’t do exaaaactly that, but believe me, the H/C still abounds. ~1000 words, PG.
Blaine wouldn’t go so far as to say he was having the worst week of his life, but it was definitely pushing the top five. He had two papers and an in-class practical exam all due on Friday, shifts every night at the diner, a growing allergy headache from all the trees starting to bloom again, and to top it all off, had just spilled his coffee all down the front of his nice white polo, leaving him scalded and stained.
He managed to change shirts quickly enough that he didn’t burn the pancakes he was making - his inner stressbaker was making an appearance, unsurprisingly - flipping the last of them off the griddle and onto a plate just as Kurt emerged from their bedroom, adorably tousled and relaxed.
Blaine was kind of jealous, if he was telling the truth. He’d been up since six after waking up with an epiphany about one of his thesis statements, and now it was pushing ten. He could feel himself flagging a little.
“Morning, sweetie,” Kurt said, plopping down at the table. “Sleep well?”
This is all trufflemores’ fault. Really. In which Rory teaches his little siblings how to go back in time, and Maddy and Mase have the best night of their lives. ~1600 words, G, the crackiest fluff possible.
The house was quiet when Rory got home.
“Get ‘im, Mase!” his little sister’s voice suddenly screeched from the hallway. Rory spun around frantically, but it was too late. His little brother had him wrapped in a bear hug, arms pinned to his sides uselessly.
Rory tried to struggle his way out of Mason’s hold, but his baby brother was ripped from hours of swimming, and he was able to drag Rory all the way to the couch easily.
Maddy bounded over then and plopped directly on Rory’s lap, pinning his wrists to the cushion and leaning in so close that they were almost nose-to-nose. “Tell us how you traveled back to visit Daddy and Papa when they were our age!”
Dumb fluffy ficlet in honor of Pride. Grab a toothbrush, kids.
~450 words, PG.
Kurt thought his fourteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe it if he were told how good his future was going to turn out by the time he was twenty-three. He was out of Ohio - hell, he was out, period. And he was in the middle of NYC Pride with his handsome, loving husband at his side.
He had to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Blaine turned to ask, the rainbow heart painted on his cheek shining in the light.
“No, it’s not that,” Kurt said, squeezing Blaine’s hand softly. “It’s just…do you ever wonder what your younger self would say if they could see you now?”
“Sometimes,” Blaine said, an understanding smile on his face. “Some mornings, right when I wake up and feel you in bed next to me, or some nights after a particularly good run at the theater. Younger me was always a bit afraid I’d just become Cooper. Or worse, my father.”
“Hey, Cooper doesn’t have it too bad,” Kurt said. “He’s doing what he loves, same as us.”
“Yeah, that’s not the problem. He’s just so caught up in his own world sometimes that he doesn’t have room for others. I was afraid I’d be just as arrogant with even fewer credits than he has, you know?”
“You? Arrogant? Never,” Kurt teased. “It’s not like you once compared your high school show choir to rock stars or anything.”
“Hey now.” Blaine pouted.
Kurt kissed his cheek. “I’m kidding. I get what you mean. I was always afraid I’d never make it out of Ohio or out of the closet. Some days I just look at the view from our apartment or the glare off my wedding ring and get the wind knocked out of me.”
“Could we sound like any more of a PSA?” Blaine asked, chuckling lightly. “I’m surprised I don’t hear string instruments coming to a passionate crescendo in the background.”
“You don’t?” Kurt asked, laughing along. “I’m having aural hallucinations, then.”
Blaine snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And now the lights are dimming! It’s like there’s a spotlight illuminating us while the rest of the world falls out of focus!” Kurt said melodramatically.
“Oh, really? And what do you think that means?”
“This, probably,” Kurt said before pulling Blaine in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders for a better angle, feeling Blaine’s own settle around his waist as always. When they finally broke apart, he had to snort.
“Your foot popped,” Kurt said, nodding his head down at Blaine’s boat-shoe-clad feet. “You sure we’re not in a PSA? Maybe a romcom?”
“I stand corrected,” Blaine said, leaning up to kiss the rainbow painted on Kurt’s own cheek. “We’re definitely living out a fairy-tale ending.”