Alright, so lately, I've been very easily inspired. Every time I'm inspired, I pick up my phone immediately, and start typing. Of course, something happens, making me abandon this new project, and I've only got a little spurt of the first chapter. So, I've decided, I'll upload these little inspirations into one giant fic. One day, in the future, I might look back at these and say 'Hey. I should really make a story out of that.' So, without further ado, here are my little seeds! And please, don't mind the crazy, unedited bits of my mind about characters (DISCLAIMER!) that I don't own and aren't created from the madness of my mind. Thank you. x)

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Click. Click. Click. Click.

The sound of Kurt Hummel's designer dress shoes echoed through the street as he walked up to one of the grandest houses he had ever seen. It was beautifully built, with light blue panelling and white trim. It kept with the cottage-by-the-sea feel of the area.

He smiled at the house, happy to know that one of his lifelong dreams had come true. Own a cottage by the sea? Well, considering it was three stories, it was practically a mansion, but it was close enough. He made a check on his mental list.

Walking to the front door, he squeezed the key clamped in his hand. He released it from his grasp and admired the white, slightly weathered door. Placing the key in the lock, he turned it until it clicked, pushing the door open.

The door opened into a huge, vaulted ceiling living room, already complete with tasteful furniture. He had come in earlier that week to direct the movers where things should be placed. However, decor and other small items still laid in boxes strewn about the house. He reminded himself to hire some help within the next few days.

Kurt Hummel was not a poor man by any means. He was actually what his step-brother Finn describes as 'a bazillionaire'. He had made his living off of fashion designing. The name Kurt Hummel was splayed across magazines all over the world, and it wasn't uncommon to see his designs covering supermodels on runways. After all, he had dressed celebrities for everything from the Oscars to the Tonys.

He walked up the stairs to his bedroom. To his surprise, there were already sheets and blankets on his bed. To his greater surprise, he found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush all sitting on his bathroom counter. Looking closer, he saw a small piece of paper held down by the hairbrush. He unfolded it and read.

Kurt,

I figured you would probably have some trouble finding your essentials for the first night, so I bought you some and paid the movers to set them out for me. New York is sure going to miss you, and Finn and I will too! Enjoy the sandy beaches, and stay in touch!

With love,

Rachel

P.S.-Go looking in the closet! Mercedes left you a message, too.

Kurt smiled as warmness filled his heat. As much of an arrogant drama queen that girl could be, he still loved her to pieces. He set down the note and walked over to the huge, walk-in closet. The closet was bare except for some pajamas, an outfit for the next day, and pair of swim trunks. Attached to the swimsuit was another note.

Go enjoy those crystal blue waters for me, white boy! And don't you even dare think about not!

XOXO,

Cedes

Peering out the window at the beautiful, calm waters, he decided to take that advice. After slipping the swim trunks on, he walked down to the back door and exited into his backyard. Although, now that he looked at it, it wasn't exactly what the normal 'backyard' would entail.

A long, gorgeous covered patio with a large swimming pool and spa spread out before Kurt, petering off into a white, sandy beach. Water lapped calmly at the edge, beckoning him. Backyard was definitely not the right word. Private beach was more appropriate.

The area was only fenced along the patio. This must've meant the long beach was shared with the neighboring house, which was lying several hundred feet down the beach. It was quite a bit smaller than Kurt's, but still large. It looked to be only two stories; then again, so did Kurt's, but there was also a whole basement level unseen to prying eyes.

Kurt shrugged off his shirt, walking down to the beach. He had brought along a large, floating lounge that was usually used in a pool. Laying himself down, he pushed his feet off the beach, and floated out into the calm waters.

It was so relaxing out there. A clear, blue sky filled his vision. The white fluffy clouds were positioned perfectly as to block out the bright sun. His eyes drifted close, and the sensation of the contradiction suddenly came to light. The sun was warming his face and neck, but the cool water lapped at his feet and legs. As he laid there, he suddenly heard the faint strums of a guitar. The strums grew louder and louder, twisting together to make a relaxing, acoustic melody.

Kurt's eyes sprung open in surprise as he took in a soft, slightly rough voice. It blended smoothly with the guitar, interweaving with the acoustic strings. He sat up on his floating lounge, and shielded his eyes from the now-annoying sunlight, now regretting his contradiction to raccoon eyes. Squinting through the brightness, he could vaguely see a man sitting on the porch of the house further down the shared beach.

Without thinking, he pushed his hands through the water, moving his lounge closer to the shore and that enchanting song. Although it was still hard to see, features of the man started to show. His short, ridiculously curly hair was one of them.

He jerked away from his intense scrutinizing when his toes started brushing sand. What was his problem? Ogling a complete stranger like that, much less his neighbor? As his internal conflict raged, he unconsciously pulled the lounge onto the shore and started to walk down the white sand. He cursed himself when finding he had walked the entirety of the beach without notice. At the moment, he was about 50 feet from the musician's patio, and still going. It was quite obvious that he was no longer on his own property.

The man paid no mind to the stranger on his beach. He was too immersed in the music. His eyes were closed, foot tapping to the rhythm, his heart and soul pouring through his voice and fingers. He was truly lost in the music.

The man whistled in harmony with his guitar as the last few strums trickled out. A content smile filled his face. He opened his eyes, scanning along the smooth waters, until his eyes landed on Kurt. At this point, Kurt was standing on the edges of the patio, his bare shoulder resting against a support column. That could quite possibly be considered stalker-ish, Kurt thought to himself, but shoved the thought down. The man's beautiful hazel eyes scrutinized him, clearly confused.

"Hello. Can I help you?" he said as Kurt stood awkwardly. The words wouldn't come to him as he stared with his mouth wide open.

"Oh, uhm, hi," Kurt stammered as words spilled out of his mouth without thought, "I, uh, just wanted to tell you that your, um, voice is beautiful." The stranger's eyes went wide in shock, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks.

"I mean with the song!" Kurt said, attempting to hurriedly clean up his involuntary words, "Your voice and the song were really good! Together!" God, he was such an idiot! What was it with being so inarticulate?

The stranger gave a slight, surprised laugh, "Thanks. I really appreciate that." A small, warm smile appeared on his handsome face.

"I'm Kurt," he said as stuck out his hand with out warning, suddenlyL wondering if his skin was as warm as it looked.

"Blaine," he said, and met his hand with Kurt's. With that small touch of a hand, the two had just unknowingly set off a chain of events that would change and intertwine their futures in wonderful ways.

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AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER, WITH ADORABLE KLUDDLES AND COTTON KLANDY AND KLAINEBOWS.

This idea has been bothering me forever. My inspiration this time? I went to Newport Beach over Spring Break. As soon as I got home after an amazing whale watching trip off of Balboa Island, I sat down and typed on my iPod until my thumbs started to cramp. Which was about 2 AM.

Anyways, the song I imagine Blaine singing is I Still Think by Darren Criss. I honestly don't know why. Maybe because I love that song? Who knows.

So, as always, same old deal - comment, follow, favorite, don't. It's all the same to me. Although, it is a bit of an ego boost when I get an alert in my email for one of those. =)