So…yeah, I wrote HanaYoriDango/BoysOverFlowers!Klaine for Villain AU. Yeah.
Kurt accepted the sheet from the teacher and glanced down it, surveying the options for the Dalton retreat.
He stared before giving up and doodling in the margins. There’s no way his family could afford to send him on the retreat anyways, so what was the point?
“The Red Card!”
The whole class froze as the voice rang down the hall.
“Sophomore Jacob Ben Israel has been given the Red Card!”
“Class dismissed!” The teacher said and the students all rushed out of the room. Kurt sat still in his seat, staring guiltily down at his paper, trying to ignore the rush of the other students that went by.
Kurt looked up and a tall brown-haired boy was standing over him, expression curious.
He smiled. “I’m Sebastian. Shouldn’t we go with them?”
Kurt sighed. A transfer student who probably had no idea what was going on. “Might as well show you the ropes.” He got up, motioning Sebastian to follow him.
“So…” Sebastian hedged. “What’s going on?”
“The Red Card is C4’s declaration of war against a student.”
“C4?” Sebastian frowned.
“Canary 4,” Kurt explained. “Their nickname, because they’re all studying to go into singing. And, if you piss them off, they’re explosive. Basically, the four richest guys in school.”
“Isn’t everyone here rich?”
“Not on their level,” Kurt said. “Most who go here are just politician’s children—” Sebastian nodded, indicating himself. “—or merely wealthy. Or there are the few who are on scholarship, like me. No, C4…they’re beyond rich. Their parents pay the school special money just so they can basically do whatever they want. They don’t even have to wear uniforms.”
“Whatever they want?” Sebastian asked uneasily.
Kurt sighed. “Pretty much. As a result, they enforce Dalton’s no-bullying policy to the point of hypocrisy. They used to just ridicule anyone who’d bully someone. Now if anyone pisses them off, they’ll make sure that the whole school does it too.”
“Oh.” Sebastian rubbed his arm nervously. “Who are the…C4?”
“There are four members. First, Chandler Kiehl. His dad runs a lot of underground businesses or something. He sort of has this weird tendency to be really exuberant and go after older guys. Then there’s Jesse St. James. His parents have a mini-coffee shop monopoly and they own most of the shops in Ohio. He’s an asshole and he runs through women like water. Then there’s Sam Evans. He’s actually not so bad. He’s like, the adopted son of some East Coast blue blood and he spends most of his time brooding. And then there’s the leader…Blaine Anderson.”
“Wait…” Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Like, of the Andersons?”
“Yep,” Kurt nodded. “Family owns most of Chicago and half of New York. Blaine…is the leader. Don’t get on his bad side. Ever. That’s all you need to know.”
“Okay,” Sebastian nodded as they came to the top of the staircase. Below, half the school was around Jacob Ben Israel, pushing and laughing. Off to the side, four boys without uniforms stood, surveying the damage. Sam Evans broke off from the group and left, casting a glance up the stairs. Kurt blinked in surprise as their eyes made contact.
Oh. My. God. Honestly, this is everything I’ve ever wanted. And PERFECT CASTING with Sue as Okami-San and Sebastian as Sakurako - everything’s all well and good until he kidnaps you and tries to slice your face off.
I’m just picturing little Kindergarten Blaine pushing Sebastian down and calling him ugly, and it’s glorious. XD
Kurt laughed loudly, as Rachel finished her story about Finn, along with Mercedes as they strolled the local Lima mall. Mercedes was laughing hard which only caused Kurt to laugh even more with Rachel half cry/laughing beside them. They were all so distracted they didn’t see or hear the man that was coming up behind them.
Summary: There’s a string of murders in New York City. Blaine is the officer assigned to the case, Kurt is the coroner assigned to the bodies.
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: Serial killers, murder, rimming, frotting. Mentions of blood and how people were killed.
Author’s Note: This is a story that mentions violent acts and people dying, and I don’t condone or support that in any way. /o\ I swear, I’m nice on the inside.
“Another one, Officer Anderson?” Kurt asks. The air is stale and freezing in the cold room; makes his breath hang in the air like a fog. He looks down at the body laid across the table, the white sheet lumping unattractively over where he’s sure the arms are mangled and twisted and the ribs cave in.
He pulls the cover back to examine the face, and sees a young man. Stocky build, square-jaw, Caucasian, around 26 years-old. His hair is blonde and limp and soaked in blood. His skin has a dark tan, but the pallor is dull.
Blaine opened the limo door with a smile that quickly turned into confusion. “Where’s Sam?”
Kurt smiled without amusement. “I think we just broke up.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kurt sighed. “I’m here to escape. And that’s what this place is for, right?” He smiled up at the large neon sign that read “SCANDALS”. He turned to Blaine. “So let me escape,” he pleaded.
Blaine inclined his head and offered his arm before leading him into the burlesque club.
They sat up front, in plain view of the dancers. Kurt tipped a flute of champagne down his throat as his head swayed back and forth to the music.
Blaine glanced over at him, adjusting his bow tie. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it but—”
“Relief,” Kurt nodded. “I feel relieved. The whole cherade was getting to me anyways. I already knew how he felt about Quinn.”
Blaine sucked his bottom lip. “You know, Kurt—”
“I’ve got moves,” Kurt said suddenly, eyes still glued to the stage. “Like, good moves.”
“Really?” Blaine asked amusedly. “Then why don’t you get up there?”
“No,” Kurt giggled, tipping back more champagne. “I’m just saying I have moves.”
“Come on,” Blaine urged with a grin. “You’re ten times hotter than any of those guys and girls.”
Kurt laughed, looking back at him. He blinked. “You really don’t think I’ll do it.”
“I know you won’t,” Blaine smirked, sipping his gin.
Kurt handed him his flute. “Guard my drink.”
Blaine blinked in surprise before accepting it, waving Kurt by.
Kurt stumbled slightly before righting himself and marching proudly up on stage. He pulled off his beret and threw it to Blaine with a smirk, who caught it and placed it on the seat next to him, laughing.
Kurt’s hips started rotating as he popped the buttons of his peacoat off one by one before that fell to a table in front, which was then joined by his cardigan. Then bow tie. then his silk shirt.
Blaine stood, moving to the pathway up to the stage as Kurt was suddenly down to his tank top and skinny jeans, just losing all of his inhibitions and letting his body loosely roll and undulate on stage, his face giggling and carefree, so different from the usual unamused and condescending arched eyebrow that Blaine always saw him display at school. This Kurt had his hair flopping everywhere and was laughing and singing along to the music and just so…free.
“Who is that boy?” Unique, one of the preformers asked.
Blaine stared, awestruck. “I have no idea.”
Kurt looked at him then and Blaine fiddled with his suit jacket, laughing. He watched as Kurt tore apart the stage and, impressed, Blaine raised his gin with a brilliant smile.
Later, in Blaine’s limo, Kurt stared out his window as the flashing lights went by, smiling to himself. He turned back to Blaine. “Thanks for the lift home.”
Blaine was still smiling. “You were…amazing up there.”
Kurt smiled back, sliding his head against the leather of their seat, tilting it so that he could reach Blaine’s lips. They tasted like gin and honey and basil and Blaine somehow.
Blaine suddenly pulled back, nudging his head against Kurt’s. “Are you sure?”
Kurt just leaned forward and kissed him harder and suddenly Blaine was pulling him into his lap and hands were flying everywhere.
And, out of all the things he’d done in his life, this was one that Kurt knew that he’d never regret.
This isn’t about mutual tolerance because there’s nothing mutual about it. If we agree to disagree on this issue, you walk away a full member of this society and I don’t. There is no “live and let live” on this issue because Dan Cathy is spending millions to very specifically NOT let me live. I’m not trying to do that to him.
Asking for “mutual tolerance” on this like running up to a bully beating a kid to death on the playground and scolding them both for not getting along. I’m not trying to dissolve Mr. Cathy’s marriage or make his sex illegal. I’m not trying to make him a second-class citizen, or get him killed. He’s doing that to me, folks; I’m just fighting back.
All your life, you’re told to stand up to bullies, but when WE do it, we’re told WE are the ones being intolerant? Well, okay. Yes. I refuse to tolerate getting my ass kicked. “Guilty as charged.”
But what are you guilty of? When you see a bully beating up a smaller kid and you don’t take a side, then you ARE taking a side. You’re siding with the bully. And when you cheer him on, you’re revealing something about your own character that really is a shame.
Kurt and Blaine are robbers, they hold up a diner one Sunday morning.
Written for the Tumblr Klaine AU Friday challenge: Villain!Klaine. I kept Klaine as true to their rainbows and puppy dogs self as I could though ;)
Kurt took a sip of his coffee, savouring the bitterness and eyeing his husband over the brim of the cup.
‘So what are we going to do?’ He asked, setting the cup back down on the table. Blaine rested one foot next to him on the diner bench, his shoes creasing the fake leather upholstery.
‘I don’t know Kurt.’ He sighed heavily, looking around the diner. It could have been any diner, in any town, in any state in the United States. Metal silver tables, red chaired booths and menus laminated with plastic. The place was fairly crowed, not quite packed but busy enough for a Sunday morning. Customers were tucking into their pancakes and bacon, sipping their coffee without a care in the world.
‘I mean, we could try somewhere else.’
Blaine shook his head.
‘No, no more gas stations Kurt, they’re getting too dangerous. The owners are beginning to take it personally and trying to be heroes. It’s only a matter of time before we’ve got to shoot one of them.’
‘I don’t want that.’ Kurt shook his head. Even though he and Blaine robbed convenience stores and gas stations they didn’t want to hurt anyone, they just weren’t like that.
Blaine reached across the table and clasped both of Kurt’s hands in his, looking intently at his husband.
‘I know Kurt, me either. Which is why we can’t rob them places anymore. Someone is going to get hurt.’
Kurt sighed and slumped back against the chair.
‘So what do you suggest? We stop all together?’ He knew it would come down to it one day, they’d be forced to quit their life of crime and move on to something else, but he shuddered to think of a life where they couldn’t afford the designer clothes Kurt loved or the sleek cars Blaine coveted.
‘No, just find something other than gas stations to rob. All too often now the owner is packing a gun under the counter and I don’t want to put you in that kind of danger.’
Kurt smiled and put on hand to his heart, he loved that Blaine cared about him so much.
‘Where else can we rob?’
Blaine chuckled. ‘I got talking to a guy the other day, he said he heard of a man who walked into a bank and gave the teller a phone, on the other end of the phone was a man saying that they had the man’s little girl and to empty the drawers.’
‘Did they have her? The little girl?’ Kurt asked, concerned.
Blaine shook his head. ‘There probably never was a little girl; she’s not the point I’m making. The point is, a man robbed a bank with a phone.’
‘So you want to rob banks now?’ Kurt frowned. That was a bit much, even for them.
‘We’d have enough money to finally buy you something from the Elizabeth Taylor collection.’ Blaine teased, smiling as Kurt leant back and moaned at the thought getting his hands on one of those beautiful pieces of jewellery.
‘So banks?’ Kurt asked, as if to confirm.
‘No. All the guys who rob banks get out with millions and end up either dead or doing life, it’s too risky.’
‘Coffee gentlemen?’ A waitress came over to their table with a fresh pot of steaming black liquid.
‘Yes please.’ Kurt smiled sweetly at her, keeping his eyes on her until she moved away again.
‘You remember the other night in the convenience store outside of Flagstaff?’ Blaine said, spinning his fork around on the table.
‘Yeah.’ Kurt nodded; they had made a lot of money that night.
‘We only got a few hundred out of the till but all those customers kept coming in didn’t they? And then you, you had that brilliant idea to take their wallets and their jewellery. We made more from the wallets than we did the till.’ He dropped the fork and leaned over the table to kiss Kurt passionately on the lips, not caring who saw. ‘That was inspired Kurt.’
Kurt blushed and ducked his head.
‘A lot of people are in this diner.’ Blaine said, leaning back into his chair.
‘We’re gonna stick up this place?’ Kurt asked, catching on.
‘Yeah, there are loads off wallets here, the till probably has quite a bit in it from this morning’s takings and nobody is going to attempt to be a hero here. Look.’ He gestured around the diner and Kurt looked at it in a whole new light.
The waitress was at the serving window, arguing with the chef, the bus boys were going through the motions collecting the dishes and the customers all eating, lost in conversation.
‘Yeah.’ He agreed, warming to the idea quickly.
‘Waitresses and bus boys don’t get paid enough to care about the takings; they aren’t going to stand up for the manager. Manager doesn’t care, the place is insured, he just wants to get us out of here before we start killing people. Customers aren’t going to do anything; they don’t know what’s going on. One minute they’re eating their breakfast, the next someone’s sticking a gun in their face.’
‘I like the idea, but we don’t have our masks and people have seen us.’ Kurt said, mapping out the diner in his head anyway, planning the fastest route to take around the diners to collect the wallets, check which exit is closest to the car and taking note of the lack of security cameras.
‘So? We’re in shit town Arizona; police don’t have enough power to chase us as far as we’re going. And you remember the whole San Simeon job, it all died down in a week, we’ll drive up to Utah and no one will find us.’ Blaine promised and Kurt believed every word.
He trusted Blaine, Blaine might want the money as much as he did but he never led them into situations that could either be life threatening or too risky.
‘Ok, so now?’ He grinned, his heart beginning to thus in his chest with excitement the way it always did before a job. The thrill and the rush were worth any danger.
‘Now.’ Blaine grinned.
At the same time they grabbed their guns from the back of their pants and stood up on the diner chairs.
‘Everybody keep cool, this is a robbery.’ Blaine yelled, quickly grabbing the attention of every single person in the building.
‘Any of you fucking pricks move and I’ll execute every last one of you mother fuckers.’ Kurt screamed, taking his role as the unhinged and crazy robber to his heart. One of them always kept cool, the other one went crazy, it kept the people they were robbing on their toes and gave them less time to think of a way to stop them
‘Alright everyone, wallets and jewellery in the bag.’ Blaine said as Kurt hopped down from the chair and began to stalk around the diners, collecting up the wallets and possessions. He tossed their phone back to them, there were too many potential tracking systems for them to bother with them.
‘You.’ Blaine pointed at the waitress who had just recently refreshed Kurt’s coffee. ‘Empty the till.’
She obeyed immediately and in no time at all Kurt and Blaine were out of the door, running towards their car and speeding off down the road, leaving the diner in a cloud of dust behind them.
‘Oh Blaine, that went so well.’ Kurt moaned, taking a quick glance in the bag and grinning at the cash, wallets, cards and jewellery.
‘It did baby, you’re so full of good ideas.’ Blaine reached over to squeeze Kurt’s leg.
‘Couldn’t do it without you.’ Kurt said earnestly, leaning over the centre console as Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s shoulders.
They may lead a life of crime but they had each other and that was all that mattered.
oh my god it’s Pulp Fiction except they get away with it i love it
“I can’t help but wonder where people learn how to be parents,” he says eventually, releasing Harry’s wrists to tuck one arm behind his head and wrap the other around Harry’s waist as they lie there, touching everywhere but not looking at each other.
Harry laughs softly, painfully, into his neck. “I think some people just know.”
“I think there’s a class,” Draco whispers. “A secret class. You were too busy saving the world and I was too busy… doing all those things that are the reason I’m terrified of setting foot inside the stupid fucking Ministry tomorrow morning. And so we didn’t get invited.”
“Many people believe geekdom is defined by a love of a thing, but I think — and my experience of geekdom bears on this thinking — that the true sign of a geek is a delight in sharing a thing. It’s the major difference between a geek and a hipster, you know: When a hipster sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say “Oh, crap, now the wrong people like the thing I love.” When a geek sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say “ZOMG YOU LOVE WHAT I LOVE COME WITH ME AND LET US LOVE IT TOGETHER.”—John Scalzi, who is a national fucking treasure I swear to god. (via knitmeapony)