#barista!Blaine

[datshitrandom]

Favorite Fanfics (108/?): treading water by @kurtsascot

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Could you recommend au meeting fics? Sort of like Crema verse vibes.

Hello - we do have barista!blaine or barista!Kurt

or even coffee shop if you specifically want barista stories. ~Jen

Here are some, other than Crema verse.

Ad Eros by the Cimmerians

 Kurt grows up. Blaine does too.

Careful, The Beverage You Are About To Enjoy is Extremely Hot by munchkinpandas

“He read somewhere that it was one of Starbucks’ brilliant marketing strategies to maintain at least one completely dreamy (gorgeous, ravishing, steamy, prettiest of the pretty) guy behind the counter at any given shift. Nicely done, Starbucks. It seemed Kurt found his absolute favorite.”

[caramelcoffeeaddict]

Got That Coffee Shop Love [Klaine Secret Santa 2024]

Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel Chapters: 1/1 [Complete] Word Count: 4,150 Rating: Teen&Up Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Different First Meeting, Christmas Fluff, Barista!Kurt, Pianist!Blaine, Broadway!Kurt, Teacher!Blaine, Background Rachel/Jesse, Background Mercedes/Sam Summary: Kurt is a Broadway actor working as a barista whenever he isn't booked for a show. Blaine is a high school music teacher that takes a job as a coffeehouse pianist for some extra cash while his school is on Winter Break. Author Notes: Written for the @klainesecretsanta2024 Gift Exchange as a gift for @kurtwarbler. I also attempted to make a photo edit/manip to accompany the story which is below. Hope you enjoy your gift! 🎄🎁 :) Original Post Date: December 2024

READ ON AO3

[esilher]

Art: @esilher   Fic: @mynonah  Thank you so much @bossymarmalade for the quick beta reading! <3  You can read it on AO3

Winter Magic (Part 2) → (Please read Part 1 first here )

“Wait… You think I’m a spy?” Kurt’s eyes widened.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, and Kurt noticed the tension in Blaine’s body at the question.

“Aren’t you?” He asked harshly.

“Of course not! I just told you I work at Vogue.” Kurt replied. “And if you happen to find a coffee shop with that name, please let me know, because I’m pretty sure that name is trademarked.” Kurt snapped. “God, I just…”

“You just…?” Blaine interrupted impatiently, leaning forward in his chair.

Kurt sighed. “I made a bet with my roommate,” he spat out. “We made a bet on whether I could reproduce our favorite winter coffee at home,” Kurt explained. “Her birthday is the deadline. Which is tomorrow, by the way," he added sadly.

Blaine sat back in his chair and tried to process what he had just heard. He studied Kurt’s disappointed expression, wondering if he should believe him.

“You could have just taken a cup of Winter Magic home and put it in a mug, you know.”

“That’s cheating!” Kurt said indignantly. “And I know I can do it.” he added confidently, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyebrows immediately furrowed.

“Are you sure?” The barista asked and Kurt put down his coffee, pursing his lips.

Blaine shook his head, turned his attention back to his coffee, scraping the seam of the paper cup as he thought about it. He took another sip and sighed.

“What did you bet?” He asked, still staring at his coffee.

Kurt looked up at Blaine hopefully. “If I lose, I’ll have to do all the dishes in the evenings.”

“Forever?”

“As long as we’re roommates, yes.”

“Ugh,” Blaine groans sympathetically. “And what if you win?”

“Rachel can’t start warming up her vocal cords before 6am. And I need my beauty sleep, Blaine!” Kurt looked at him meaningfully.

For a moment, a warm feeling filled Blaine’s chest. It happened every time he thought Kurt remembered his name before he realized he was wearing a name tag. Finally, he looked at Kurt again, and seeing the miserable look on Kurt’s face, he couldn’t help but laugh. Okay, he’s probably not a spy, Blaine decided. Thank God… 

“You use too much cinnamon.”

“I like cinnamon.”

Blaine smiled. “Noted. I’ll definitely think about it next time.” He took another sip. “Otherwise, it’s quite good,” he added.

“I know," Kurt replied, as if nothing could be more obvious. “But it’s not the same as yours.”

“No, it’s not. But… I think you’re missing just one ingredient.”

Kurt looked at Blaine excitedly. He leaned forward over his table, his eyebrows raised in question. Blaine leaned forward too, close enough that their faces almost touched. 

“I guess if I told you, that would be cheating too,��� he whispered.

“Shit!” Kurt growled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’re right,” he grumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” the barista smiled. “But don’t be hard on yourself, this recipe has many elements.”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt shook his head. “I’ve used soy milk, I added star anise, ginger, nutmeg, hazelnut syrup, cloves, cinnamon, cocoa nibs, turmeric and saffron, a touch of chili, pumpkin syrup…”

“I’m impressed, by the way.”

“What am I missing?” Kurt asked, sounding desperate. “Some exotic spice that I couldn’t find even if I looked for it?”

Blaine laughed, but stopped when he realized it was making Kurt look even more miserable. He took another sip of his coffee and leaned a little closer. “How did you get the proportions so right?”

“Well, I could lie and say it was easy, but since you know I’ve been suffering with this for weeks now…” he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Kurt, I’ll be honest. I know seasoning isn’t atomic physics, but I’ve been working on these specialties for months to get the perfect balance of ingredients and make them all special, something the customer can’t get anywhere else. You copied our best-selling coffee specialty in two weeks.”

“Well, I did not, did I? I missed something.” Kurt grumbled.

Blaine smiled and twirled the cup absentmindedly in his hand. “I want to know how you did it.”

Kurt shrugged. “I’m pretty good with spices.”

“I can see that.”

“I like to cook and bake, that’s all. I’ve experimented a lot since I was a kid, it’s just fun. There’s not much difference between trying to find a new character for a cookie and this,” Kurt pointed to his coffee and the spices. “It drives me crazy.”

Blaine watched as Kurt tensely organized the small jars in front of him. He was really impressed that Kurt had gotten this far in figuring out his recipe. Blaine was already convinced that the guy in front of him wasn't a spy. He believed him, and he knew that Kurt would soon figure out the last ingredient.

Blaine sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me what spices you use in your favorite cookies.”

Kurt opened his mouth to reflexively say no, since he never shared his recipes with anyone, except Carole. But he froze when he realized that it probably wouldn’t be fair to say no at this point.

Blaine noticed Kurt's hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “Is that a secret, Kurt?” He asked, amused. He leaned closer to Kurt across the table, a playful smile appearing on his face. “I think you owe me that much, Kurt.”

Kurt shook his head, but smiled back at the barista. He opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine cut him off by raising his hand.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed Santana’s arm as she was about to walk past them. He whispered something in her ear, she nodded and walked on. “I’m listening now,” Blaine turned back to Kurt.

“My favorite recipe is actually quite simple,” Kurt began, playing with the paper cup in front of him, his eyes on the coffee. Cinnamon dominates, of course. No surprise,” he glanced up at Blaine for a second, who smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. “I use cardamom, ginger, vanilla, a little cumin, it gives it character, and…” Kurt’s eyes widened as he finally put the last piece of the puzzle in place. “I can’t believe it,” he looked up at Blaine, who was grinning at him. 

“You’re welcome,” Blaine said, then drank the rest of his coffee, picked up the empty cups and stood up.

“How could I have missed it?!” Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

“It was too easy, I guess. And it doesn’t dominate at all. I’m not a fan of it, but if you use just a very small amount it can balance out the other spices.” Blaine explained. “I have to go back now.”

“Of course.” Kurt nodded and thanked him.

The moment Blaine left the table, another tray landed in front of Kurt with a freshly brewed, steaming cup of espresso, hot water and a vanilla bar next to them.

"Boss ordered this for you. It’s on the house," the waitress said before disappearing among the tables.

-

A few minutes later, Blaine spotted Kurt at the counter, and he couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Did it work?” he asked as he walked up to Kurt.

“I don’t know yet.”

Blaine looked at Kurt then down at the coffee cup questioningly.

“You tell me,” Kurt said, placing the cup in front of Blaine. “I made this one for you.”

“Thank you.” Blaine smiled in surprise. Slowly, he raised the cup to his lips, and keeping eye contact with Kurt, took a sip of the coffee. He’s nervous, Blaine observed. Cute.

“So?”

Another sip, just to be sure. 

“Wow. It’s perfect, Kurt. It really is.”

“Really?” Kurt jumped with excitement, making Blaine laugh. “Thanks for helping me.”

“I didn’t do anything, you figured it out on your own,” Blaine shrugged. “And you know, if you were looking for a job…” Blaine started, and he realized he was only half joking. But Kurt laughed. 

“No, I’m not. But with this offer you’ve convinced me, I guess the coffee turned out really good,” he said. 

They said goodbye before Kurt headed for the door.

As Kurt walked out of the coffee shop, Blaine leaned against the counter and drank the rest of his coffee. He stared at the empty cup in his hand, lost in thought and smiled. He wondered when he would see Kurt again. He hoped he would come back. Even if Blaine just helped him make his favorite coffee at home, so he had no reason to... 

Oh, shit. 

The thought knocked him out of his good mood. I should have asked for his number. He was wondering how many men named Kurt could work at Vogue, and if trying to find out what would be considered stalking, when Santana appeared next to him.

“I’m an idiot,” he groaned.

“Yes, you are, Boss,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “But at least he’s not,” she added as she reached over and swirled the cup in Blaine’s hand, revealing the handwriting on the other side.

* * * Free refills, anytime! :) Kurt (555) 555-5555

[porcelainvino]

hello ! not sure if ur still doing the klaine art requests, but if u are, can i please request a barista kurt / customer blaine sketch please ? <3 no pressure tho !!

yippee

(if anyone wants me to draw a klaine-related sketch, send in an ask :3)

[klainepolls]

unexpected- day 1 of 7

by: @kurtsascot

POLL AT THE END DECIDES ROMANCE TROPE

———

The coffee shop is short staffed. Blaine’s favorite barista isn’t there. They are training someone new who can’t seem to get the hang of things, and one of the espresso machines is down.

Blaine can’t be late to class. He just can’t.

It’s not that his professors care if he’s late, truthfully- NYU is massive, and most don’t bother learning names, let alone take attendance- but, well, it’s still early in the semester, and Blaine wants to leave a good impression.

He’s a good student. He likes school. He likes going to class and he likes New York, even if last semester had some… relationship challenges.

It’s a new year.

It’s a fresh start.

Anything can happen.

And, things are looking up. Blaine’s name is called, and his coffee, his saving grace, is gingerly placed on the counter.

Eager, Blaine smiles, pushes through the disgruntled crowd of customers, slaps on the vent lid, and turns on his heel to leave.

If he’s quick, he can make it to his lecture on time.

Blaine maneuvers his way out of the shop. It’s the second week of January and the temperature is well below freezing. But it’s not too bad. He got mittens for Christmas and they buffer the chill. His coffee is also radiating heat through the wool- another benefit of his patience. Today, he’ll stay warm, and once the coffee is cold enough to drink, everything will be perfect. It should be cold enough by the time he gets on the subway.

Blaine struggles to keep his school bag on his shoulder and hold his cup when he closes the glass door on his exit.

As he turns the corner, lost in thought, planning the quickest way to get to campus, he walks right into someone.

Like- right into them.

On reflex, Blaine squeezes the coffee cup to prevent it from flying out of his hands.

His mittens limit his dexterity.

The lid pops off.

Scalding liquid rises,

breeching the lip of Blaine’s to-go cup,

and coffee splatters all over the man in front of him.

…

Shit.

“Shit!” The man’s light blue down jacket is stained with Blaine’s dark-roast, and, unfortunately, the puffer wasn’t fully zipped- his button down underneath is also soaked, completely ruined.

Blaine gapes at the cup in his hand. It’s entirely empty. His gloves are sopping wet and his hands are on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he tries, shaking his head and hating how whiny he sounds. Are these gloves machine-washable? He’s sticky, in pain, and,

and he’s going to be late.

Shit. No way he’s not going to be late. “I was-That’s my fault.”

Blaine takes a second to collect himself and then musters the courage to meet the guy’s eyes.

And, when he does,

He freezes.

[klaine-a03-feed]

Got That Coffee Shop Love

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/GTgrEJ9 by CoffeeAddict80 Kurt is a Broadway actor working as a barista whenever he isn't booked for a show. Blaine is a high school music teacher that takes a job as a coffeehouse pianist for some extra cash while his school is on Winter Break. Words: 4150, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Glee (TV 2009) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Christmas Fluff, barista!kurt, Pianist!Blaine, broadway!Kurt, teacher!Blaine, Background Rachel/Jesse, background Mercedes/Sam

[daisyishedwig]

Posting this a day early because I'm going to be busy quite literally all day tomorrow. So here's some more from the Sebklaine fic, I think soon I'll be switching back to focusing on Kurt and Sebastian but here's a little more Seblaine in the meantime.

So instead he heads to his favorite coffee shop to caffinate and get some work done and his head on straight before he sees Kurt. But then he remembers his favorite coffee shop is also Blaine’s favorite coffee shop and he makes a sharp turn across the street to his backup coffee shop.  Either fate’s out to get him or has a funny way of helping him, because when Sebastian walks through the door, Blaine is the first person he lays eyes on. The glower he levels him with is so dark that Sebastian almost aborts his mission before steeling himself and determining to deal with the elephant now rather than later. He walks over to Blaine’s table and sets his bag in the chair across from him. “We need to talk,” he says, glad his voice stays firm even as Blaine folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes. “But I’m fucking exhausted, so please don’t leave while I get my coffee.” Blaine looks him up and down and Sebastian knows he looks far from his best. Baggy jeans, an old Columbia sweater, and sneakers he’s had to dig out of the trash on three different occasions (thanks, Kurt). Finally he sighs and raises an eyebrow in the direction of the barista and Sebastian takes that as his signal to leave. He gets himself an iced latte with honey and cinnamon and a blueberry muffin, cut in half. He returns to the table and sits heavily, sliding one half of the muffin across the table to Blaine. Blaine eyes it suspiciously, but makes no move to push it back to Sebastian.  “What do you want, Sebastian?” Blaine says, folding his hands in front of him.  “No, how are you, Sebastian? You look like shit, Sebastian?” Sebastian asks, taking a sip of his latte as he raises an eyebrow at Blaine.  Blaine rolls his eyes. “You look like shit, Sebastian.” Sebastian grins. “As opposed to how dashing I usually look?”  The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitches up into a facsimile of a smile before he schools his face back into a scowl. “Don’t make me throw your drink in your face.” “Your drink is closer.” “You think I’m wasting a ten dollar latte on you? You’re not worth that.” “Ouch,” Sebastian says, pressing a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Speak, Sebastian,” Blaine says, “I would like to spend as little time in your presence as is humanly possible.”  “But we’re having such a good tette-e-tette.” Sebastian knows he’s stalling but he’s about to admit to having emotions and previously Kurt is the only person he’s allowed to know that. “Sebastian,” Blaine snaps. Sebastian bites back a remark about loving the way he says his name. It’s, on the one hand, a sure fire way to get slapped, but it also feels a little too real to admit simply to get a rise out of Blaine. “Fine,” Sebastian says and crosses his arms over his chest. “I want us to be friends.” Blaine snorts, but backpedals when he sees the way Sebastian hugs himself tighter and flexes his jaw. He won’t meet Blaine’s eye and the show of anxiety intrigues him. “Kurt finally put his foot down about our vicious banter?” “This isn’t about Kurt,” Sebastian says with a shake of his head. “This is about you and me.”

I'll tag @calsvoid, @lusthurts, @sperrywink, @wowbright, @annepi-blog, and

@bitbybitwrites

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Tis the Damn Season

Day 5: Flaw

AO3

Kurt had considered working here once. Desperate times and all. Had he actually applied to be a coffee barista would he have met Blaine sooner? He tried not to spend too much money on coffee while on campus. Always choosing to make himself a latte at home and bringing it with him to class. If he needed a pick me up later in the day it was usually Vogue.com fronting the bill. He could always convince Isabel of a mid-afternoon treat from her favorite coffee shop.

But something about today told Kurt to walk into the campus coffee shop Rachel raved about. Turns out his gut knew Blaine would be there. Donning a cute chocolatey mustache.

While Blaine was on his way to his class, Kurt made his way to the subway and to his internship. Most NYADA students didn’t start interning until their junior year but Kurt was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity. Luckily he was able to alter his schedule to fit it in.

As he walked to the office, his dad called.

“Just triple checking your flight?”

“Booked for a morning flight and should be back in Lima by 3 on the 18th.”

Thankfully, his finals were done early this semester. Kurt was getting a few extra days with his family.

“I’ll come pick you up at the airport. Carole wanted to come but she’s got a shift at the hospital.”

“That’s okay, I’ll see her for dinner.”

Kurt waved to security as he scanned in. His phone squeezed between his cheek and shoulder.

“We can’t wait to have you home.”

“I can’t wait to be home but I’m at Vogue now. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, love ya kid.”

“I love you too dad.”

On the way up, he fiddled with his hair in the mirrored doors of the elevators. Not a flaw to be found.

His mind wandered back to Blaine. Chocolate mustache, slightly stained pants, and sending them both to the ground this morning…still no flaws found.

He walked to his desk with a little smile on his face. Isabel was standing waiting for him dressed in a halter emerald green dress with sparkly black booties. Kurt was just about to compliment her choice when she cut him off.

“What’s his name?” She asked, smirking. “You have that cute boy look in your eyes.”

Kurt turned red and sat down at his desk.

“You’re good but not good enough to get a name.”

She hummed. “I like a challenge.”

[bitbybitwrites]

If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - Klaine Fan Fic (Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang 2023) - Chp 1 and 2

Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang by @the-lima-bean 

If I Can Make Your Heart My Home

Author: @bitbybitwrites 

Artist: @datshitrandom  

Prompt Provided by: @datshitrandom

Pairing(s): Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson 

Rating: Explicit

Word Count:   44,842 (and counting!)

Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Elizabeth Hummel, Burt Hummel, Sam Evans, Santana Lopez, Blaine Anderson’s Grandmother (Original Character), Various other Glee Characters

Summary: Life in New York City and working in the restaurant industry wasn’t exactly what Kurt Hummel had expected it would be. He’s lonely, stressed out and miserable.  He’s almost ready to throw in the towel and return home to Ohio when a chance meeting with a musician in Central Park changes everything.

Genre/Tropes:Musician!Blaine, Street Musician!Blaine, Baker!Kurt, Chef!Kurt

Warnings: Consensual sex; Mention of Character death (canon); Panic/Anxiety attack; Bullying/Intimidation

Authors note:

Hi everyone! This is my first-ever entry to the Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang.

I've been paired with the ever-so-talented @datshitrandom. She created the gorgeous cover art for the story and provided the prompt. She also provided some other photo edits that will be seen in the story. I'll make notations for the chapters where they occur

The original prompt involved a guitar-playing street musician (Blaine) who loved making music and a sad, melancholy coffee bar barista (Kurt) and was inspired by the lyrics of a song from Adele called Can I Get It. But after a bit of brainstorming together, it evolved into something a little different but still stayed true to the spirit of the original prompt - and something we both loved, and we hope you readers do too!

Many, many thanks again to@datshitrandom for being so patient and a fantastic person to bounce ideas off of. Sending you lots of virtual cups of tea and cookies!

Thanks as always to my betas who have heard me gripe about my writing struggles during this process, helped me with translation issues, and are constantly kind enough to read stuff that falls out of my brain.

So sit back and enjoy! I'll be posting a chapter at a time, so subscribe to get notifications for story updates!

Happy reading!

Photo edit by @datshitrandom

[careless-with-your-heart]

Seeing Red 🍸😡🧟💋

This fits perfectly for @ockissweek! So excited! Enjoy this one-shot for #ockiss24.

Seeing Red: A Blaine DeBeers x OC KissFic One-Shot

You can’t kiss her.

The thought practically eats Blaine alive—an oxymoron if he’s ever heard one.

It’s only been a week since Catherine blew in with the rain, and already she’s making herself useful. Not just in his fantasies, though there is that, but in cold, hard earnings. And for that—and all the other, carnal reasons that keep him up at night—Blaine wants to kiss Catherine-No-Middle-Name-Cohen full on her plush, tempting mouth.

“Why do you look so self-satisfied?”

Don E’s voice cuts through Blaine’s locked-eyes daydreaming, and over the glow of his laptop screen, Blaine raises a brow at his second-in-command as Don E glides into the back office of The Post, leaving the door yawning wide open behind him.

“I always look self-satisfied. I am a man intent on nothing else but satisfying himself.” To prove the point, Blaine lifts the half-full martini glass that rests on his desk and salutes the small, bald man standing in front of him before slugging down the remainder of the drink.

“Yeah, sure. But, like, right now, you just had this look on your face. Like, what’s the expression? The cat that ate the canary?”

“You got it switched, brother. The canary is the cat—Kitty, that is.”

Don E. smirks as he slides into the chair in front of Blaine’s desk. “You son of a bitch! You nailed her. Noice. Fast work. She seems a little damaged, but in that way you like. I dig it.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “Should I arrange for some flowers? A nice bottle of vino for the lady? A link to my YouTube channel?”

Blaine blanches. “Don’t be crass. I didn’t nail her. And no one watches your YouTube channel.”

It’s Don. E’s turn to protest. “Hey! I’ll have you know that my Redecorating Your Living Room When You’re No Longer Living series was very popular. Dozens of views. And if the Lady Catherine is now on Team Z, she might need some basic how-to on how to do the undead thing.”

“Mmm-hmm. Congrats on the views, champ, but she’s still human. Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand—our little stray cat has, in the past week, bumped nightly bar receipts up by thirty percent. And she breezed in here this morning with a full-on spreadsheet breaking down our liquor cost, in order of highest to lowest margins, and she’s gone to meet in person with two distributors who might cut those costs if we switch suppliers.”

Don E’s eyes widen. “Damn. Sorry bro. I mistook your money boner for a lady-inspired one. That’s some valid dreamy-eyed shit. She’s way nice, too. Did you know that Darcy loves her? Those two and Liv and Peyton, there’s a whole Clueless thing going on that is very, very heartwarming.”

“Why are you in my office, exactly?” Blaine says, closing down his laptop.

“Oh! Yes. Two items of business. One, remember that you asked Darcy to come in today to look over the delivery system and see if she can take the whole ordering process online.”

Blaine has forgotten—but now he recalls, and he nods agreeably. “That’s great. Crypto, right? Less physical cash changing hands means less chance of an extra hand in the honeypot.”

Don E rocks his chair back up on two legs, bracing his interlaced fingers behind his head. “Yeah, that’s the business part deux. We have a little prrrrrroblemo down in distribution that I wanted to talk to you about.” He grimaces slightly. “Caught one of the new delivery guys sampling the goods.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

What a way to kill the high of the morning’s financial gain.

“Nope. Hank.”

Blaine presses his lips together. “You vouched for him, Don.”

The younger man winces. “I know, bro. I was trying to help him out. He used to be my barista before, you know”—Don E’s tongue lolls out and he raises his arms in a caricature of Night of the Living Dead. Off of Blaine’s flat look, he drops his hands to his lap. “I came to you as soon as I knew. I’ll take care of it. I just didn’t want my partner out of the loop.”

“And now you want to bring Darcy in to automate the ordering? When your boy is stealing from me?” There’s no way for him to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“She’s my wife, Blaine.”

His mood souring, Blaine shrugs. “I’m not catching your point.”

“I love her. She loves me. You don’t profess your love and then ask someone to share the rest of your life unless there’s trust, right?”

“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose,” Blaine quotes flatly.

Don E’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, yeah. This from the guy who claims he doesn’t have it bad for the new livestock in town.”

Before Blaine can protest again, Don E puts up a hand to stop his reply. “You can say it’s money all you want, but I see the way you look at her, and all the other signs. If you’re not careful, you’ll fall, too. The indestructible Blaine DeBeers.”

The word isn’t quite right. Blaine knows a few other descriptors that are apt. Ones that were drilled into him young, and often.

Unlovable

Inadequate

Worthless

Blaine lifts his chin, smirking past the intrusive thoughts. “Other signs?”

“You’re dressing her up like your personal doll, Blaine. You’ve never done that with any of the back-room girls. And, last night, your pocket square matched her dress. “

Blaine remains silent, thoughtful.

Don E presses on. “You’ve given her every night shift this week—and, I might add, you’ve come in an hour early yourself every one of those nights. To throw some wisdom from your man Willie Shakes back at you, lovers ever run before the clock, bro."

Blaine rolls his eyes at Don E. "Don't save the date, my friend."

"See? Interested but cynical. Yearning for love but settling for cheap interludes. Face it, you have commitment issues."

"I suppose you have a YouTube video for that?"

"Your sarcasm is a defense mechanism. Look at the facts. My dude, you barely let your shoes get walked in before you toss them."

"It's been my experience that a quality woman hates scuffed soles," Blaine shoots back, toying with the edge of the empty martini glass on his desk. 

"Soles or souls? Fifty-fifty chance you fail there, boss."

Blaine laughs and puts a hand over his chest, bending double in his chair as he pretends to clutch his heart. “Damn! Ouch.” Then, sitting up, still grinning, Blaine says, “I admit that our newest house human is aesthetically pleasing. And she knows how to make money. But if you think a little ‘ol steak dinner on a pair of nice stems is going to tempt me into forever, brother, you don’t know me at all.”

“I do. And you know me. And I love Darcy. So trust her because you trust me.”

Blaine nods. “Fair enough.” But he’s still more than a little annoyed. Not just by Don E’s too-keen observations about how he was beginning to feel about Kitty, but by the stress fractures he saw forming in his usually well-run businesses. The bartender that had just been caught pouring heavy for his friends last week. The delivery guy skimming brains. What did a dishonest businessman have to do to get good help in this town?

A sudden knock on the doorframe of the office yanks the attention of both men to the entryway.

Kitty stands there—and Blaine’s breath catches.

Don E swivels back around to face him, eyes wide. How long has she been standing there? he mouths.

Blaine ignores the question, but the possibility that she’d just heard their conversation makes his stomach twist. Instead of panicking outwardly, he opts for what gets him out of most situations—cocky, surface bravado, even if he’s a nervous wreck on the inside.

“Meals on Heels! Just the gal I was singing the praises of. How’d it go with the distributors?”

She shoots him an unreadable look as she makes her—brisk—way to his desk. “Really well. Two proposals, both great offers. Twenty or twenty-five percent off of current rates for your regular rotation stock. Higher discount wants a four-year contract, though.”

Don E seems to relax some.

Blaine smiles broadly. “Wow. Not bad, dollface. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad for cattle, isn’t that what you mean?” There’s a clipboard in her hand, and she slams it down on top of his closed laptop. “It’s your choice on which new supplier to go with—but maybe avoid the four-year contract if you’re commitment-shy.”

Both men gape at her.

"Anyway, guess this shows I'm good for more than a source of protein. I'll be out in the bar, trying to figure out what the hell you two are good for."

Then, she spins and marches out of his office.

Fuck.

Blaine rises from his office chair, shaking his head as he starts to follow her out onto the main bar floor. “Kitty, hold up. I didn’t mean…”

The office door slams in his face.

As Blaine goes stock-still in stunned silence, Don’s chair scrapes back as he stands. “Don’t chase her, dude. Let her go.”

Blaine rounds on him, snarling. “Shut up, Don E! I don’t need any more of your sage advice.”

But the other man is probably right. It won’t do anything except make things worse if he chases Kitty down while she’s angry. So Blaine steps back. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s able to scrape together, and probably some borrowed from whatever saint he last dined on to boot, but he does it. He leaves the door closed and paces back to his desk instead of storming out to ask her to forgive him—and to ask her who the fuck she thinks she is, slamming his own office door in his face.

“So, I’m going to retire Hank now, if that’s cool…” Don E says, shuffling in place. “Darcy should be here any minute.”

Maybe it’s his simmering annoyance at the employee messes, or the sudden, queasy unease he feels over Kitty overhearing what he’d said to his second-in-command. But whatever the cause, Blaine’s temples begin to throb, and anger suddenly swells in his chest. He’d been happy five minutes ago, head full of rainbows and unicorns and cotton-candy thoughts about the woman who’d just bitten his head off. She shouldn’t be so fucking sensitive. In fact, she should be grateful to him. He’d given her a job with very few questions asked.

Outside in the main bar, Blaine hears the sound of a door slamming. Then, muffled curses. She’s out there throwing a fit—and it makes his anger spike higher. It makes the part of him that is always simmering, spoiling for a fight, begin to boil. He pushes off of his desk, feeling the familiar red haze as the pressure of it begins to make his eyes burn.

“Dude?” Don E’s words after are a muffled mess of noise—nothing that will stop Blaine as he lets the anger rise, relishes it, embraces it as it climbs hotly through the stark, popped veins of his neck and into his head, taking over.

He is the boss here. Kitty works for him. And he’s going to show her just how much trouble her bratty little attitude has gotten her into.

Blaine doesn’t have to take his clash out to the bar. As soon as he flings open the door to his office, she’s there—so close, in fact, that he doesn’t even see her before they collide. But he hears her small, startled cry of surprise, and her softness registers against the lean, hard planes of him, and his raged-out brain indexes through a dozen reasons she’s coming back; and it settles hotly, and nearly instantly, on one reason in particular.

She’s come to insult him some more.

Unlovable

Inadequate

Worthless

And that isn’t fair, or accurate, or even related enough to be applied, but the anger doesn’t care. It siphons all the fuel it needs from the dark corners of his heart and grows, and grows…

I’ll show you exactly what I’m good for…

Blaine’s pissed enough that he rolls with the knee-jerk, Cro-Magnon urge that seizes him, gives in to the impulse, and throws out all care for the notion of what is prudent or professional or even safe—and he takes what he wants. What he’s wanted since that stormy Friday night when the city had delivered this lithe, magnetic mystery woman to his doorstep.

Kitty tries to pull back, but he reacts so quickly that she doesn’t stand a chance. He grips both of her upper arms, hauls her up, and through the blinding crest of the red haze, feeling as though his head might burst if he doesn’t, Blaine kisses her. He puts into the kiss all of the frustration he feels that has nothing at all to do with Kitty, and all of the lust that absolutely does. Just as he ducks toward her, he closes his eyes, peripherally afraid he’ll startle her with the blood-red in them.

Soft. You’re going soft, McDonough.

And that thought fans the flames of his fury higher, ensuring that the kiss is not soft. His lashes sweep her cheeks as his mouth attacks hers, and he lifts one hand from her arm to stab his fingers through her hair and fist the heavy, silky tresses to hold her still for his onslaught.

She stiffens at first. Blaine can only guess it’s in shock, but he hopes there’s a little anger of her own in the reflex. Something about his driving rage craves an answering anger in her. Maybe he wants Kitty mad to make it feel a little less like he’s the villain here. Predator, prey, hell, he isn’t sure which of them is which, anyway. Once he drops his other hand to haul her against him at the waist, she goes pliant against him, and Blaine wastes no time parting her teeth with his tongue, licking into her, withdrawing to bite and suck at her lower lip before pressing back in to steal the surprised gasp that escapes her when the last nip draws the barest taste of copper.

The blood excites him. It’s primal and elemental, and he doesn’t care if she bites him back. In fact, he’d go just about crazy if she did. He wants her to, wants to feel the sting of her canines in his lower lip, at the hollow of his neck, sinking into the meat of his shoulder through his shirt as he’s tearing off her panties. He wants a hundred little half-moon bruises left scattered over his body, despite the fact that he knows they will heal too quickly to be morning-after souvenirs.

She’s kissing him back now, pulling him urgently to her by the collar. It’s satisfying to feel that desperation, to know that he can make her so needy so fast. He feels a button on his shirt give way, feels her fingers slip over his throat, and he swallows an endless stream of her breathy moans as he turns the two of them and presses her to the doorframe, jamming a knee between her legs and leaving her lips to rake his front teeth down her neck. If the skin breaks, he’ll take it as sign from the universe that he’s meant to keep this enigma. And fuck Don E’s little H.P. Lovecrafting videos, Blaine will teach her everything she needs to know to become the undead queen of his dreams, and they can rule the gloomy, overprivileged burgs of Seattle together.

Forever, he thinks. A bride for Frankenstein’s monster.

It’s too close to sentiment for Blaine, too close to Don E’s cupid’s-arrow insights, and so Blaine simply pushes aside everything but the taste and scent and feel of Kitty against him. Every breath he draws is a tempest, his chest rising and falling with the fury of a Nor’easter. The veins on his neck stand out, dark and pronounced, as if they are bracing against the surge of anger pulsing through him. The hand he holds her close with trembles with barely contained rage, and in her hair, his fingers are still curled into a fist so tight that the knuckles whiten, nails dug into the palm, the pain a mere whisper against the roar of his baser emotions.

She’s practically climbing him, riding his thigh, a leg wrapping around his hip, the other en pointe like a ballerina to even out their heights, and he slams her back against the doorjamb with little regard for gentleness. This kiss edges on erupting into violence at any moment. It’s the rage, he knows, full-on zombie mode, but all he can think of is how he wants her begging underneath him—for pardon or pleasure, it makes no difference to him. He just wants her to submit. He just wants to conquer her.

Blaine clenches his fist against her scalp again, too tightly, and she whimpers into his open mouth.

“Blaine.”

The kiss has gone on for an eternity, or maybe it’s only been a handful of seconds. Blaine falters when the red haze begins to recede, when he registers that the pliant, pronounced curve at her waist is lower than he expects, and when he realizes that he has forced Kitty to a tiptoe with his hold in her hair.

Tiptoe?

And then, the voice saying his name…is not the husky, velvet timbre that he was listening for. Raspy, yes, the lilt of a woman well-kissed, but higher in octave. And Kitty wouldn’t need to stand on tiptoe to make their heights align. She’s only about an inch or two shorter than he is.

Blaine’s eyes fly open as he pulls away.

Staring up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown, lips bite-swollen and red, cheeks so flushed that her pale skin seems almost sunburned, is Darcy.

“Oops,” Blaine says dumbly, chest still heaving. “Wrong brat.”

“Dude. What the fuck.”

Blaine’s head swings toward Don. E, who stands facing them, frozen. His face oscillates between shock and disbelief.

Mortification swamps him, the last of the rage receding. Blaine eases the petite woman down from his thigh until her feet hit the floor, and then he lets go of the handful of Darcy’s hair that he’s still clutching, smoothing it with a few awkward pats as she sways on her feet and smiles dazedly. He takes a slow step back.

“I, uh—”

The frozen silence is broken by Kitty’s astonished voice from the bar.

“What the hell is going on?”

Blaine’s head whips to the right, where he sees her at the closest end of the bar, her eyes twice as wide as Don’s, a bottle held aloft.

Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Blaine clears his throat, straightens his suit jacket, and waves a dismissive hand at her. He tries his damnedest to put a firmness in his voice that he absolutely doesn’t feel. “Nothing to see here. Just, uh, new employee appreciation.” He turns back to Darcy, who has sagged back against the door, still looking as though she’s been hit by some unexpected natural disaster. He picks up her hand and pumps it overzealously. “Welcome to the team.”

Darcy swoons. Don E is there to catch her, and as he carries his wife to a nearby table in the bar area, Blaine takes the chance to slip backward into his office, close the door, and lock it.

As Blaine sinks down into his desk chair, a last quote comes to him—appropriate to his current faux pas. He says it to the empty room, a mirthless chuckle rolling up as he buries his head in his hands.

“Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.”

Blaine wonders how he’s ever going to show his face in his own bar again.

Find me at AO3 for more Blaine x Kitty fun in the motherfic of this one-shot (Lay You in the Ground) Here. Thank you for reading! <3

[cantevenbeachhere]

This Ken has lore

//This post is full of good info for you to know about the Ken you’re talking to 😎

Full name: Kenneth Sean Carson

He was created by Ruth Handler because girls wrote to her and legit asked for Barbie to have a boyfriend.

He was named after Ruth & Elliot Handler’s son, Kenneth.

His birthday is March 11, 1961, when he was officially introduced on this date at an International Toy Fair in the US.

Family:

Ken has a family, even though the parents were never actually created.

Mom’s name is Edna, Ken was named after his grandfather, and whatever happened to Dad is ambiguous.

Ken’s little brother is Tommy (roughly 6 or 7 years old) was created in 1997 and discontinued in 2007. He’s in Barbie Land too (I think so anyway) but in a separate part, never seen in the movie.

Some Drama:

Barbie and Ken officially broke up in 2004 - like wow really? - as a dumb publicity stunt by Mattel. Barbie dumped him on Valentine’s Day ouch, but after Ken’s makeover for his 50th anniversary, which was showcased in Genuine Ken: The Search for the Great American Boyfriend where people could vote on his new body and face sculpt, he and Barbie got back together the following Valentine’s Day.

Careers:

This Ken’s job is just Beach🏝️…

Although, the dolls in the Real World have had over 40 careers since Ken’s debut: beach, lifeguard, surfer, nurse, wildlife vet, marine corps sergeant, photographer, barista, banker, astronaut, basketball star, dancer, doctor, dentist, film director, movie star, ice skater, reporter, science teacher, cowboy, and more.

Personality:

Simp for his gf and loveable malewife aside, this Ken is supportive, compassionate, intuitive, and a bit of a daydreamer. In other media, Ken is also very confident. But this Ken is based on Barbie (2023), so this Ken is not quite that confident. Also, he cares about fashion, being a fashion doll and all.

This Ken does not like Blaine. IYKYK

Also this Ken is proud of the fact Disney gave Ken the dreamhouse in Toy Story 3.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Your Entertainment

Author:  Switch842

Rating:  M

Status:  Completed in March 2013

Word Count:  22,046

Summary:  Kurt Hummel has finally made it to New York, but nothing has worked out the way he imagined. Lonely and scared in the big city, Kurt turns to the internet to help him meet his needs. What happens when the literal man of his dreams walks into Kurt's life?

Tropes/Genre:  model!Blaine, alternate meeting, barista!Kurt, NYC!Klaine

Lynne’s review:  Hot damn. This was hot af and sweet and romantic. Absolutely loved it!

Read at:  AO3 or [PDF]

[caramelcoffeeaddict]

Klaine fanfiction that I've posted in 2024

Thank You, Alcohol (2,834 words)

Summary: While visiting Lima for Winter Break, Kurt had gone to Scandals and had a little too much to drink, so he called Rachel to give him a ride home. Or so he thought. Instead, he had accidentally called his classmate, Blaine. Luckily, Blaine was nearby and drove over to the bar to pick him up.

The Cute Guy From The Bar (4,300 words)

Summary: A few days after moving to New York, Kurt decided to explore the city but ended up getting lost. He doesn't know anyone else in the city, so when he sees the name "Cute Guy From The Bar" in his phone, Kurt calls him for help. Luckily, Blaine is more than willing to be Kurt's personal tour guide around New York.

Breaking Stereotypes (150,280 words)

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the frontman for the hottest new band around, Breaking Stereotypes. Kurt Hummel is a fashion columnist at Vogue, who is also working on getting his Masters Degree in Fashion Design at Parsons. When Blaine finds Kurt’s portfolio in the back of a taxi, he is captivated by all the incredible designs in it, and takes it upon himself to return it, hoping to commission a few of the designs from him. During their first meeting, Blaine finds out that Kurt isn’t a fan of Breaking Stereotypes, nor does he have any clue who Blaine actually is.

Fairy Tales Can Come True (2,387 words)

Summary: Blaine asks Kurt to help him make his costume for an upcoming Halloween party

Got That Coffee Shop Love (4,150 words)

Summary: Kurt is a Broadway actor working as a barista whenever he isn't booked for a show. Blaine is a high school music teacher that takes a job as a coffeehouse pianist for some extra cash while his school is on Winter Break.

[deldeldel90]

coffee shop au but it's in the modern au, of Blaine never really knowing what to do next- his father's in prison, his family is off doing their own things, and he never had any time for friends- so basically he's living off a small inheritance in an empty apartment with absolutely no direction in life anymore. taking the rat out the rat race, that type of beat.

so... he needs to get a job, if only to just keep himself busy for a while. if only to just stop- being so isolated. to give himself something to live for.

he enlists in a shop, becoming a barista, and there's bakers in the back and waitresses and the drive-through attendants and everyone, really. they all do their parts.

it's a little local coffee shop and goddamn, is it hell. the customers are... Sometimes okay, but there's also the ones that yell at him and tell him he's ripping them off. or that he's stealing money (like he needs to steal money), or that he's somehow caused it to rain outside and it's all his fault that Tommy is gonna miss his first soccer game.

then, he gets coffee- luckily, it was iced coffee- thrown in his face.

he barely has time to process what's happened when he finds himself yelling back- "you're lucky the damn rain came! Do I look like a wizard? Huh? Tommy was going to lose anyway!" And then, like a complete moron, he tosses a straw through her partially-opened window just as she's driving away.

he wipes his eyes, his face. he's all wet.

The girl with the neon, clunky bracelets and her hair tied up in a non-food safe ponytail bursts out laughing. the overworked girl with the blue hair casts a sharp look to her. the green-haired boy snorts, and hands him a napkin.

"i... Am going to get fired, aren't I," he mourned, rolling his eyes.

The girl-- Syrah- shakes her head. like a demon, she's still smiling. "no, unfortunately. this place is understaffed."

"hell is empty for a reason," saffron chimes in. he's wearing gardening gloves for some reason. "it's because they can't get anyone to work there."

prez frowns. "that's not a very positive mindset..."

Blaine can't help but shoot her a deadpanned glare. He's still soaking wet. This is ridiculous. "we're literally paid seven dollars an hour."

syrah looks back at him with raised eyebrows. "hey! who said the devil was rich?"

Abbi- one of the only alright people here- comes up. "I wish I had rollerskates for this..." She mumbles, and then, "I need a Mocha and a cookie!"

- :)

[lusthurts]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @daisyishedwig, and I know it's not Wednesday anymore but I totally spaced and got busy on Wednesday and missed this so here you go now! thank you for the tag :)

I have a few things I'm working on right now - the first is the How Bright We Burn sequel. Before the sequel, there is going to be a little summer fic that's probably something like 20k and covers the months between junior and senior year. Here is a bit of that:

It’s easy to fall into a routine. They start each morning at a little French café Sebastian found in Columbus, Mon Petit Chéri. Their pastries are to die for, and their coffee is even better. All the walls are a mix of exposed brick and dark red paint that makes Blaine feel like he’s living in Gilmore Girls, and the two of them can easily get lost in each other’s words or books for hours before it even occurs to them that they could do anything else. There’s a cart of old French books at the front of the café, meant to read while you’re inside, but Sebastian’s on a first name basis with all the baristas now, so they let him take them home as long as he promises to return them. By the end of the second week, he’s made it through half the books already, and every time he finds a good one, he passes it off to Blaine.  “I can’t read this,” Blaine says, passing each book back.  “Try,” Sebastian insists. “It’s incredible. I’ll help you out if you miss any of the words.” 

The second is this college AU where Sebastian is a TA and Blaine is in undergrad - it is very much a work in progress, and I'm not sure when I'll post it, but here's a little bit of that.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Sebastian says, gesturing toward his soaked sweater.  Blaine distantly wonders why Sebastian isn't following after Eric, but he doesn't have the guts to ask. “Please, this is way more embarrassing for me.”  “Everyone in college has been walked in on mid blow job. But I’m at a party full of mostly undergrads covered in some disgusting concoction only seen before at frat parties. Trust me, I win,” Sebastian points out, lifting the bottom of his sweater in an attempt to dry the top half. Blaine can't help but look down as a small sliver of Sebastian’s abs is revealed. God, why does he have to be so perfect? “Assuming the twink is done sucking you off?”  Blaine can't figure out how the hell Sebastian is so confident and comfortable asking about this when he's just had a drink tossed in his face. “Sorry you had to see that,” Blaine says, looking down at his feet hoping he has a chance of concealing the blush on his cheeks.  “No worries. Happens all the time. But a word of advice?” Sebastian asks, finally putting his sweater back into place and giving up hope that he can dry himself off. Blaine nods, grateful for anything that might make this less embarrassing. “If you’re gonna hook up with someone at a party, at least lock the door.” 

I'll tag @calsvoid and also anyone else who wants to share! feel free to wait until it's actually wednesday again haha I was just excited !