#ididntgetin

[boytoymccoy]

Me: I have backstreet boys stuck in my head

Dakota: Leave it in there.

[boytoymccoy]

going to bed because I'm getting up early tomorrow because I'm an amazing friend

[boytoymccoy]

All You Need is Love -- Moulin Rouge!Klaine drabble

Essentially this is meant to take place before elephant love song melody, but it's slightly different than in the film (obviously) and I changed a little bit in Kurt's past, but it's microscopic here heh. Anyways... Enjoy!

  Kurt rolls his eyes, turning back toward Blaine halfway up the steps. “Well of course you believe in that love nonsense. You’re a writer! What would you know about the real world.”

Blaine’s a little taken aback by the haughty lilt to Kurt’s voice, but he pushes forward anyway, determined for Kurt to see reason. “I know enough.” He says confidently, lifting his chin in a show of just how not intimidated he is by Kurt’s superior tone. “I’d like to think I know plenty, actually.”

“Oh? And have you ever actually been in love?” Kurt inquires, raising his eyebrows and trying not to look as genuinely curious as he is.

Kurt huffs and makes to continue on his way up the stairs quickly. He reaches the roof just as Blaine continues to chase after him, once again pleading his case for the importance of love. “But I will be one day! One day soon, I think.” The writer insists, now standing on the last step, just below Kurt on the landing. “Have... have you? Ever been in love, I mean.”

Kurt looks down at the penniless writer. Blaine is gazing up at him through impossibly long eyelashes, hazel eyes that sparkle with more hope than Kurt has seen around this place in years. Kurt wants to write it off as naive youth, but the expression on Blaine’s face is so much more. Everything that Blaine has been telling Kurt about love; the splendor, the elation, the way it fills you up so that love is all you’ll ever need... it’s all right there on Blaine’s face, clear as the diamonds that dangle from Kurt’s ears and sparkle from his headpiece. The passion radiates off of this boy in waves.

“I thought I was, once.” Kurt finally concedes, looking down and away from Blaine.

Even though Kurt is no longer looking, he can still feel that Blaine’s eyes are on him, waiting for him to continue.  “...And?” Blaine prompts, when the silence after Kurt’s words seems to have gone on too long.

The courtesan seems to steel himself, squaring his shoulders and lifting his eyes to Blaine’s face, though the now stony diamond-blues don’t quite meet Blaine’s swirls of warm hazel.

“I was mistaken.” He says airily, and turns sharply away from Blaine and further onto the roof. 

[boytoymccoy]

tumblr user dakota raisingbitchesfromperdition hasn't ever heard of milk and cookies pass it on 

[boytoymccoy]

natejruess >>> klacoustic

just a reminder yo 

[boytoymccoy]

based on this post: x

Blaine's hands are shaking. Shaking so violently that he can't even be sure he'll hit Kurt if he fires now, and he knows he has to hit him on the first try because he couldn't bare to pull the trigger on Kurt twice. 

"I have to do this! I'm so sorry but I have to!" He's yelling at the quickly approaching zombie, even though he knows none of his words are getting through. That none of his words could possibly reach Kurt because Kurt is so far gone now, and there's only this monster left in his place. 

Where there was once Kurt's glowing, pale skin there is now a torn and bloodied greenish veil laid over a corpse's bones. Where Kurt's eyes once shined blue and green and so full of love, there are now absent and dull black orbs, the blue so washed out and plain that it's hardly there. Where there was once the love of Blaine's life there is now a flesh-eating monster, a monster who is coming for Blaine. And now, because of that, Blaine has to shoot what is left of the only boy he ever loved. 

Blaine's crying, gasping for air and trapped between a metal fence and what's left of Kurt. "You made me promise! You made me promise if it came to this I would protect myself from you! And I am so sorry that I said yes." the last part out comes out quieter, his voice cracking. He's almost ashamed that what he's saying is true. That he's so weak, so resistant to pull the trigger, that he wishes he hadn't promised Kurt anything. He wishes he could just let this monster in Kurt's skin kill him. 

The zombie lets out a long groan, and he's so close now. Blaine knows he has to shoot soon or it'll be too late. He has to do this. 

His hands are so sweaty around the metal of his gun, still shaking so violently. Kurt's close enough now that Blaine wont miss even with his shaking hands. That almost makes things worse. 

"I promised I would look after you." Blaine whispers, "And I have to keep that promise." 

When he pulls the trigger, he very much wishes he had aimed the gun at himself, instead. 

[boytoymccoy]

In which Kurt is a famous 27 year old, and Blaine is a poor 17 year old painter.

I wanted to write Blaine as Kurt's twink, and then it sort of got out of hand. and ended really, super, disgustingly fluffy. 

There weren't a lot of people who could keep up with Kurt Hummel. The twenty-seven year old model, actor, and designer famous for his fast lifestyle and his aloof, holier-than-thou attitude. He had a small, elite group of trusted employees and an even smaller and more elite social circle. One did not just enter Kurt Hummel's social graces. You were chosen to be there, and only if you were equally as successful and glamorous. 

Which was why it was such a shock when Blaine Anderson showed up. 

Blaine, the seventeen year old aspiring artist who was too poor to afford canvas and did his artwork on the walls of his tiny apartment. Blaine who was so under the radar that the tabloids called him "Kurt Hummel's unidentified friend" for weeks before bothering to learn his name. Blaine Anderson who was so clearly in love with Kurt. 

Blaine didn't seem to have a cell phone, and anyone who tried to call his apartment for an interview was immediately redirected to Kurt's personal publicist, who promptly told whatever reporter had rang to bugger off. Whenever Blaine wasn't with Kurt, he seemed to disappear. There were no candid photos of him roaming LA with friends or going to his classes at UCLA. So until Kurt allowed him to go into an interview, or some photographer managed to hunt him down and snap a picture of him doing something worth while, Blaine was virtually invisible.

Of course everywhere Kurt went he got questions about the boy. Asking if they were dating, how they knew one another, if Kurt thought it was pushing the limit to be spending so much time with someone ten years his junior. 

That was, of course, the main story that the tabloids were going with. "KURT HUMMEL'S BARELY-LEGAL TWINK?" had been a headline on Perez for almost a week. What with how in love Blaine obviously was, and how secretive Kurt was being, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. One of the presses favorite pictures of Blaine was one from a party that Kurt had taken him to about a month after Blaine had surfaced. They were exiting a night club together, heading for a dark, luxury car with tinted windows. Kurt's jacket had been slung over Blaine's shoulders, which made Blaine look even smaller, and the alcohol in Blaine's system made his signature heart eyes (directed at Kurt, always at Kurt) even brighter. The combination of everything in the photo-- the jacket, the city lights on Blaine's features, and Blaine's bright eyes-- only served to make Blaine look even younger than he already was. 

"He looks so innocent." some people would say when reading the articles, "Hard to imagine how he got roped into this crazy, night-crawler lifestyle." 

others disagreed, "He's probably a lot smarter than they're giving him credit for. My guess is that he's after Hummel's money." 

So as it was, the public was rather divided over who Blaine Anderson really was. 

Kurt would argue that he was the only one who knew the answer to that question. After all, he was the only one who would ever get to see Blaine like this; Naked and peaceful against white silk sheets, his body fully exposed but too worn out and too relaxed to care, one arm resting behind his head, the other resting on his own hairless chest. His muscular legs were spread wide, soft cock resting between them and so gorgeous to Kurt. The white bed sheet covered only his feet, where it lay tangled and crumpled from their earlier activities. 

The younger boy had finally drifted off to sleep. They'd been laying in bed cuddling after long hours slow, sweet sex. Blaine had been hovering between reality and dreams for a long time before finally giving in and closing his eyes for good. Kurt hadn't minded. He liked to just hold Blaine like this, to just observe. 

Kurt memorized the way Blaine's tan, bare chest would rise and fall with his breath. The way he would turn his nose into Kurt's neck and nuzzle the skin there, seeming so much more child-like in his sleep.

Kurt had worried, at the beginning, about Blaine being too young for him. But despite the boy's age and his obvious innocence, he was mature for his age. He had the capacity to feel things that so many boys his age would not encounter for years, and he had a sharp mind that reached past face-value to see things how others never would. Those things showed through in Blaine's paintings, and in the way he spoke to Kurt. The way he looked at him, and loved him. The way he made love to him. 

Blaine may be young, and unknown, and virtually invisible to the outside world. 

But to Kurt, seventeen year old Blaine Anderson was the world.

[boytoymccoy]

can we go see fun. again pls