#i was however in the school orchestra (it sucked)

[loverboybrightsideghost]

they should invent a me that's good at everything i want to be good at. [thing from the addams family pokes out of a nearby box and hands me a piece of paper] thank you, thing. what's this...oh! why, it's a paper that says i have to be the one to do that for my future self! huh.

[godisshook]

Big Red

Ethan had been my boyfriend for years, and it seemed as if I were locked in with him, even going as so far as to make life plans. We communicated and understood what each other wanted out of a relationship, we truly meshed. We had been friends since childhood, and when I came out to him, he did as well, and that was history. He would grow to become your classic student-athlete, playing every sport he could, and having tons of extracurriculars. I did band and orchestra, and adored science.

As we got to senior year of high school, I noticed something weird. Ethan would focus on the gym more and more, and he would comment on how "small" he was, comparing himself to everyone else. No matter how much I would reassure him, he always felt small, comparing himself to the biggest in the gym, who were usually grown men. My protests fell on deaf ears, however, and he became hell-bent on becoming bigger.

When we got into freshman year of college, he would be at his worst when it came to his perception of his body, and that came because of his new frat president, Jaime. He joined Greek life as he felt it was a way to build bonds. The president was the biggest guy in the frat, and would constantly show his dominance over Ethan, calling him a "bitchboy" and "Little Red." I tried to keep his mood up, but it was clear he was at a low.

We were set to go to a Christmas party held by his frat, and as I get dolled up, he comes to pick me up, feeling good and generally optimistic. When we get to the party, the pledges at the gate eye me up, and I glare at them back. As the night goes on, I feel the need to stave off sobriety, so I decided to go to get a white claw from the bar. The frat guy running the bar hands me a drink and points to my left, I immediately notice the president himself walking up to me, and telling me to "come upstairs."

The walk up two flights of stairs was definitely difficult, but as we make it up, I notice a couple of the other brothers and Ethan. The president takes off his shirt and looks over at Ethan. "We don't do hazing, but just know I can always take your bitch!" As he says this, he pulls my head down to his boxers and pulls them down, beckoning me to suck his cock. As I look at Ethan pleadingly, he stares straight at the president, with a look that could kill him dead. I was ashamed after that night, but Ethan continued to reassure me, and said, "It's just how the frat rolls."

I soon became responsible for building his diet, and because I was planning on becoming an Exercise Science major, he would jokingly call himself my "guinea pig" as I would test diets and exercise methods on him. He got bigger fast, almost too fast. He started lifting more and became obsessed with his body, we barely even talked as he would spend most of his days in the gym.

We got our own apartment off-campus, and I would still try to cook for him, and he would show his appreciation by fucking my brains out. Things were still great, though, and even as he spent most of his days in the gym, he would still make time for me.

Next year, he would become frat president, and Jaime would seemingly disappear, as he would stay a regular member. Ethan was the ultimate jock now, and he would use me whenever he wanted, calling me his "good boy."

One morning, I saw a new story post from Ethan's account. The guy in the background looks familiar, and as I search for his account, I realize it was the same guy at the party. I swipe up and ask, "Who's the guy taking ur pictures?" Ethan tells me, "I have this bitchboy taking my pictures just to be near my alpha pheromones." A realization hits me as I look closer at the photos, the guy taking the photos was none other than Jaime. Now, the guy who once towered over Ethan was taking his photos.

When I get back to our apartment that night, I see no other than Ethan in the living room, and he tells me to sit down. He explains that the sudden growth he achieved was because he took muscle from the president. As his alpha pheromones strengthened, he took more and more muscle from the frat members, until he became the biggest. Little Red was now Big Red, the most dominant guy in the frat, and the main jock of the school.

Now, he had beckoned me to his feet. I was to worship him now. He would lean back casually into the couch as I sucked on his cock slowly. Climbing up onto his cock filled me with joy, and as I bounce up and down on it, I would moan into the air, even as he would take his massive hands to block my mouth from moaning. He was laser-focused on fucking me, grunting, and pushing my body on his cock. His alpha pheromones flood my body, and I get even wetter.

He took pride in dominating me, and it felt as if he was letting out his rage at Jaime on me. I knew he wasn't really mad at me, but he certainly fucked like he was. His cock filled my whole completely, and he had to stuff it in as it was so massive. Cum filled my hole as he slammed my ass against his cock with his arms, and his dick would throb in my ass, getting cum deep in me.

I rolled over to the other side, and he hugs against me with just his boxers on. As I try to settle to sleep after he ravaged my hole, I feel a hard throb against my ass. Soon, his cock is peeking through his boxers, and by the time I look back, he's staring at me with hungry eyes, and I get wet once more. Looking at him, I can tell he's in a full rut, and he won't stop until he cums as much as it takes.

His cock slides in and out of me, and my body buckles against it. He puts my body into a full bear hug and rams his cock in and out of me. His hands go over my mouth once again, suppressing my moans. We fuck until cum is all over my body, and I lay near him, as he has finally ravaged me completely.

I dreamed of him, he was mine, and our memories together just kept expanding. Waking up in his bed, I get a familiar feeling, and look over to see Ethan gone. As I look around, I see him in the bathroom biting at my thong, "Nice thong, I see you went with green, a shame you’re not getting it back." I blush at the comment and use the comforter to cover myself as I get ready, next to Big Red himself.

[winternet-s]

MINSUNDERSTOOD ( slam dunk )

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

wc: around 1,6k

notes: the same way reader's japanese sucks same goes with me and english <3 my bad for the grammar i hope you will enjoy this chapter, have a nice day mwah !

previously : prologue. next : II. RUKAWA KAEDE.

I. HANIMICHI SAKURAGI.

THE SUN RAISED AGAIN OVER JAPAN, its light spilling into every possible street corner and yet it was as if she was the light illuminating their morning, all eyes were on her. Her every move was watched by the horde of students in her path, her heels ringing in their ears, her perfume tickling their nostrils as she passed them. 

Like a model dominating the catwalk, the young girl continued to parade until she reached the finish line, thereby putting an end to the entertainment.

The rhythm she set in the corridor was perfectly in tune with the harmonies she had become accustomed to playing in her morning orchestra. Their frightening notes rang in her ears, one by one, as her school life had been going on for a short while, it had now been a year since she had found herself living in Japan. A year that some people had not accepted her difference.

"I'm telling the truth her japanese is really bad," her comarade's laughter, like shards of broen glass, cut through the corridor full of chatterboxes, she leaned close to her friend, her voice a conspiratorial hiss, a venomous serpent coiled and ready to strike. Her eyes gleamed with a cruel light, revealing in the secret mockery she shared. 

With every snide comment, her words were twisted curled like smoke, unseen but suffocating. The object of her mockery was just a few steps away, however, and there was no sign of offence in her walk, the object of her mockery was just a few paces away, however, leaving no trace of offence, she was like a rock in the face of the storm brewing behind her. 

In her silence there was a profound strength, a lesson in resilience. Once again [name] showed them that dignity could flourish even in the hardest of environments, her silence a powerful echo of inner peace and unshakable self-worth. They're getting ridiculous everyday.., she thought to herself.

As her steps were measured and serene the young girl was welcomed by a ruckus done by a group of boys.

"CHEER UP HANAMICHI! FORGET ABOUT THE BASKETBALL TEAM!!" Exclaimed one but it was before feeling a pair of calloused hands on his face and receiving a harsh hit on his face, it was from a red-head.

The teenager remembered hearing things about him, the fact that he was somewhat aggressive and intimidating. Yet he was there sulking at his desk, and despite the rumours about him there was a charming innoncence to his deamanor. His cheeks flushed with the faintest of pink, puffed out slightly as he brooded, the corners of his mouth turned downward in a perfect pout, quivered as if caught between a sigh and and a reluctant smile.

Hesitantly, she approached the young man on the ground, surrounded by what appeared to be his friends,"Are you all right? He didn't hurt you too bad?" At the sound of a female voice and a foreign accent, the group of boys immediately turned their attention to the figure before them. 

'She's so pretty' they all thought, to them she was a vision of grace her hair styled, her eyes deep and expressive, seemed to hold all the mysteries they couldn't guess what she was thinking right now. They watched as she moved her movements fluid and natural, as if she were the gentle breeze that played through the leaves. Each boy lost in his thoughts tried to capture the essence of her beauty, while she tried to get an answer.

"Sorry my japanese isn't the best," the [hair texture] apologized, thinking that her accent was the cause of their silence and strange expressions, she tried to open her mouth again before being abruptly cut off by the same red hair that had struck her comrade.

"You're really pretty," his once muted and withdrawn aura now seemed to shimmer with a soft luminous glow illuminating the whole class. His whole persona had changed, his brown eyes flickered nervously as he would glanced at her figure, however each of them turned out to draw more warmth to his face, turning his face in a darker shade of red. 

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" He quickly asked as for the girl confusion took over her.

Wait… What? Her mind scrambled to catch up, trying to process if this was a joke or just pure bravado."

—

AFTER THE STRANGE INTERACTION, the girl quickly dismissed the thoughts she had about earlier, but what she didn't know was that the young man was persistent. The tall figure quickly moved to her side, his group of friend supporting him right behind.

"You didn't gave me a reply earlier.." started the red hair while fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding the cold stare that she was giving to him.

[Name] found herself being under an unseen burden, this kind of situation never happened to her before, her shoulders slumped and eyes clouded with annoyance. As the minutes stretched into eternity for Hanamichi, he noticed the [skin color] letting out a sigh, a sound that carried so much meaning.

"Sorry, but I don’t really know you, and honestly? I’m not into guys who seem… aggressive."Her suave tone just slapped him back to reality, as he stared at her figure getting smaller.

"..A-Agressive...?" Hanamichi stuttered on his words, he felt hurt, being rejected again while his friends were supporting him, fell profusely down his cheeks. 

"HIGH SCHOOL REJECTION NUMBER TWO!"

Each steps that were taking her away from the place seemed not far enough, [name] could still hear them. 'In what kind of school have I found myself in ?'  thinking about just happened sighing again she walked trying to find her peace, until she heard a familiar voice coming in her ears. 

"Hello, [name]-chan!"

The cheerful voice of Haruko called out, instantly breaking the young girl's reverie. [name] turned to see Haruko waving at her enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Haruko was the one person who had befriended her since she had moved to Japan, providing a semblance of comfort in an otherwise alien environment. Despite Haruko's kind nature, [name] often felt like an outsider, constantly reminded of her foreignness by the whispers and stares of her classmates.

"Hi, Haruko," [name] replied, forcing a smile.

Haruko jogged up to her, her energy palpable. "I've been looking for you! Do you have plans for lunch?"

[name] shook her head. "Not really. Just thinking about finding a quiet spot to read."

Haruko beamed. "Great! I was hoping you'd join me. I wanted to introduce you to some of my friends from the basketball team. They're really nice, I promise."

Before [name] could respond, Hanamichi's voice rang out, "HIGH SCHOOL REJECTION NUMBER TWO...!" His group of friends burst into laughter, patting him on the back. Haruko's eyes widened as she noticed the tall redhead standing just behind [name]. 

"Sakuragi-kun?" she called out, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Hanamichi turned towards Haruko, a mix of pride and embarrassment on his face. "Haruko-san!" he exclaimed, his cheeks still flushed from his earlier encounter with [name].

The [skin colour] felt a wave of relief wash over her as Haruko's attention shifted to Hanamichi. For a moment, she hoped she could slip away unnoticed, but Haruko was quick to close the gap between them.

"Sakuragi-kun, what are you doing here?" Haruko asked, her eyes darting between [name] and Hanamichi.

Hanamichi scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Just, uh, getting used to rejection, I guess," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation.

Haruko giggled, clearly amused by his response. "Well, you do have a knack for making an impression," she teased gently. Turning to [name], she continued, "This is Sakuragi Hanamichi. He's trying out for the basketball team. Quite the character, isn't he?"

[name] nodded politely, unsure of what to say. "He's the delinquent you talked to me about right?" Her blunt statement echoed in Hanamichi's mind, his warm brown eyes were focused on the [hair texture] mouth agape for a moment.

"Don't worry about Sakuragi-kun," Haruko said, linking her arm with [name]'s. "He's harmless. Come on, let's have lunch together."

As they walked away, [name] couldn't help but glance back at Hanamichi, who was still standing with his friends, a look of determination now replacing his earlier embarrassment. He gave her a small, hopeful wave, which she acknowledged with a brief nod.

Seated in the cafeteria, Haruko continued to talk animatedly about the basketball team and how excited she was for the upcoming season. [name] listened quietly, grateful for Haruko's company but still feeling a pang of anxiety about being in the spotlight.

"Do you think Sakuragi-kun will make the team?" [name] asked, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.

Haruko smiled, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I think he has a lot of potential. He's tall, strong, and surprisingly agile for his size. If he can focus and channel his energy, I think he could be a great asset to the team."

[name] nodded, her mind lingering on the possibility that Hanamichi might not be as intimidating as he first seemed. Despite his brash exterior, there was a vulnerability to him that she couldn't ignore.

"He's really tall, isn't he?" Haruko continued, her eyes glancing over to where Hanamichi and his friends were seated. "And he looks so sporty. I heard he's been practicing a lot."

"Yeah, he does seem pretty athletic," [name] agreed, feeling a bit more at ease with the conversation turning to Haruko's evident interest in Hanamichi.

As lunch continued, [name] found herself relaxing in Haruko's presence. Despite the challenges she faced, having a friend like Haruko made everything seem a bit more manageable. Maybe, with Haruko by her side, she could find her place in this strange new world after all.

winnie talk : hum i hope it was good please comment i would love to read ur comments ! see you soon !

previously : prologue. next : II. RUKAWA KAEDE.

[kingofthewilderwest]

So if I took up private music lessons again (budget pending), which would you vote for?

Banjo: The original private lessons plan. Bluegrass and its history have become a deep soul-fulfilling passion for me since I got into it in 2019. I've run into technique issues (ex: hand adjustments) that I don't know how to correct and are bottlenecking progress. If the teacher here is good, lessons would un-bottleneck me so I could work up tunes full speed and participate informally in local jam groups, which, if they're sorta good, would be stimulating and allow me to live my passion for a moment.

Cons: bluegrass lessons risk not being as bang-for-buck, with more casual and less intensive information and progress. There are many free resources I could tap into - and while they don't replace in-person feedback, might get me just as far in other respects. Many bluegrass greats didn't learn through lessons, and my prior musical training means I have a good sense of what I should be fixing. I also live in an area where there's rather limited bluegrass.

Level: late beginner Progress stakes: low Rewards: casual Local opportunities: casual

Flute: The instrument I've invested the most into already (besides piano). At my musical "height" in 2011, I was good enough on flute to be first chair all-state orchestra but not polished enough to audition into a good music school's spots. I'm craving returning to classical music and there is no thrill as extraordinary as performing flute like a diva in orchestra. This is when I feel at my best. Truly polishing flute would be working up my first, most driven, and cared-about investment, and could light a deep fire in me like nothing else.

However, I live in a small area with few resources and few ensembles - even fewer good ones. Most interesting ensembles I'm locked out of because I'm not a college student. The other interesting ensembles I'd had difficulties doing because flute is omnipresent and competitive. I'm already in one of the only bands I can access (it's "meh" and doesn't 100% fill my itch). I'm good enough to do the chamber groups at a classically-oriented church. There is a "semi-professional" orchestra and a local chamber group here, but the likelihood of there being a flute opening in the next five years is slim. I'm trained enough I can polish and grow myself. It would be an honor to study under a master flautist, but what is the chance that in this small area, there's someone advanced enough to push me to a new level? (the level I would need to get into the orchestra if an opening did happen)

Level: early advanced Progress stakes: high and ambition-oriented Rewards: best, but rare and high risk Local opportunities: rare for what I want

Viola: The instrument I've historically used to get into ensembles I shouldn't've. I had a grand one year of viola lessons with a high school classmate I was dating in 2011. I've used the viola to get into lower non-auditioning collegiate orchestras and church special events. There is a non-auditioning orchestra here I could participate in. There are always open viola spots in the "semi-pro" orchestra and they're far less competitive to get into than flute. The orchestra will accept advanced high school students, so I only have to be as good as an advanced high school student to squeak in. I suck at viola now, but I'm not starting from scratch. I think that a year or two of viola with a good teacher will get me good enough to be a participating fish in this small pond. I would not be able to work up my viola skills to get into the orchestra without a teacher. There are good string teachers here and I've received a recommendation for a viola teacher. Getting into orchestra would get me into the ensemble I've been most passionate about. This could also unlock me playing string trios at a local church. This is a very strategic choice.

Level: late beginner Progress stakes: medium Rewards: medium Local opportunities: multiple

--------------

I've been thinking I should switch my plan of doing banjo to viola. I could pound out the hardest two years of viola in my life, then switch to banjo lessons. In an ideal world, I'd take multiple instrument lessons at a time (would be nice to find a good piano teacher, too....), but I'm frugal, want to save for housing and retirement, don't have high-paying jobs, and have medical payment obligations that rein me in. So. If I allocate carefully, I can squeak in one instrument at a time properly. (Improperly, I could do two instruments at a time where lessons are every-other-week - ergo cycling lessons between the two instruments.)

[mylittleredgirl]

voyager high school au

i feel like we as a species are really missing an important angle on this much-abused trope.

usually high school aus take our current, fully developed characters and de-age them into teenage equivalents (tuvok is captain of the chess team, harry is in all AP classes but is somehow a freshman forever, seven demolishes at quiz bowl and "steals" the class president's prom date at the last minute because she hasn't realized that lesbianism is an option, etc).

however, if you have to send them to high school, i think it would be much funnier if we imagine them as they canonically were as teens.

--

janeway is an admiral's daughter who stormed off after losing a tennis match and dramatically walked home like 5 miles in the rain. you just know that if she got a 98 out of 100 on a project (still solidly an A+!) she would go up after class to argue the two point deduction. she might actually be the class president, but idk if the other kids are happy about it.

chakotay is a sullen, angsty kid who hates his dad, hates his tribe, and just wants to go to junior college and never set foot on the rez again. so many internalized things to unpack. this boy is a mess

Passion Punk™️ tuvok canonically got kicked out of the house for saying that everything his dad believes in fuckin sucks

b'elanna also thinks her culture of origin fuckin sucks. child of ugly divorce, regularly suspended for brawling. she may have gotten sent to klingon religious school to scare her straight at one point? i gotta look that up but i'm pretty sure it happened

like janeway, tom is also an admiral's kid. everyone says he has sooooo much potential but he spends all his time crying in his room and reading jules verne

seven is in a massively abusive cult. this one's not funny at all ☹️

harry is the best adjusted out of everyone. great relationship with his parents, probably has had the same girlfriend since eighth grade (who is also well-adjusted). youth orchestra. early decision to harvard. i typed out "voted most likely to succeed," but that's definitely wrong, because it would be tom out of nepotism or janeway out of grit (and nepotism). if it were a category though, teenage harry would be voted "most likely to just have a nice life."

kes is the smartest kid in her grade but you would never know it because she just hangs out with the hippie kids in the woods behind the school, eating moss off trees and planning to run away from home

all we really know about neelix's pre-war childhood is that he had a huge loving family. i'm extrapolating here from the skills and attitude he has as an adult, but when i transpose this into a modern high school AU, i imagine his parents running the local diner and letting all of neelix's loser friends (see the rest of this list) eat there for free.

the doctor sprang into being as an adult so i'm not sure what to do here. you could argue that he was kind of a canonical teenager in season one, in which case he's that autistic kid who everyone remembers showing up to kindergarten with a briefcase and a full suit, having already memorized A thru G in the world book. somehow you never really see him anywhere except on school grounds. this year's special interest is opera.

vorik is also there.

[fortemelody]

for my high school sophomore year orchestra final i talked about the soundtrack of sonic movie 2 becus one of our choices was to write a paper on how a movie’s soundtrack helped amplify the film. i really wish i could’ve done an actual sonic game but that was not the prompt and i hate my teacher and i didn’t wanna spend time arguing with him so i digress. as always i did way too much work and research on it and got an A (which was a given especially becus i fucking love sonic). the problem however now comes with this new internal guilt like a year later cus i found out through saltydkdan’s twitter (one of my fav youtubers) that the guy who has been making the background music, Junkie XL, apparently really sucks. i read somewhere during my paper that he wanted to make the music inspired by the games and it was paramount preventing him but it turns out that statement is so far from the truth and this guy literally just hates video game music. i mean i personally theorize that paramount was *part of* the problem (cus they usually are…) but also i just got the other part wrong and i guess junkie is infamous for just hating video game music that much. so much so that a lot of people are upset at the fact that he’s returning for the third movie (hence why the tweet originated). he also put a song in ant man in sonic 2 (which i did write about but didn’t think of the inherent laziness till now) and basically stole a song from the modern lion king. and i guess supports ai content too but i’m not 100% sure on that one and i don’t really feel like deep diving anymore. i will say he did take the friends theme from sonic mania and the drowning theme and incorporate those but that was like. one short game cameo that lasted like a minute per movie. and there was that green hill piano cover but idek if he did that uhhh so. yeah i guess my school essay praising this dude was not warranted at all but tbf i don’t think i would’ve known/had easy access to all this info until this tweet was made. my orchestra teacher gives me an A on literally anything that isn’t my shitty ass playing (and even then it’s usually like a B) sooo fuck you american school system why do i even bother trying to appease you correctly

[hello-eeveev]

tagged by @quinn-of-aebradore (and I was tagged in a very similar thing by @spottedenchants a bit ago but didn’t get around to it before this, so I hope you don’t mind me combining them!) thank you :D

Last song I listened to: “Sometime We’ll Understand” from the Lamb of God Easter oratorio by Rob Gardner. With the season and driving by a bunch of churches with Easter signs, I got real nostalgic for Easter music because there are so many great pieces. And Lamb of God holds a lot of memories for me because my dad was the lead cellist for the local production for several years, and I even got to take part one year. And it is just soooo musically tasty and I was just filled with energy listening to it yesterday. The CHOIR, the SOLOISTS, the SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA!!! If you remember me expressing my love for French horns a few weeks ago, Lamb of God played no small part in establishing this opinion. If you don’t mind Christian hymns, I highly recommend checking it out, and all of Rob Gardner’s work because he is truly one of the goats.

Last book I read: I’ve kinda started and stopped a few books recently, not for any particular reason just… idk. So instead I’m gonna plug a fic I’ve been keeping up with that published its final chapter last night: Judgement & Justice! It is such a fascinating and engaging work that explores the details of legally condemning Ikithon, the ways that the law can fail anyone, how even doing something you believe is right can be incredibly traumatizing. As one of the tags says, “the mundane horrors of the criminal justice system”. So good. I highly recommend.

Last film I watched: ummmm, yesterday I saw like 30 minutes of Wish after the school field trip bc the teacher was so kind and said, “nope. interpreters are out of commission. we’re watching a movie.” The music didn’t appeal to me too much, which sucks bc I LOVE Ariana DeBose’s voice. But I will say that the special effect art was sick and some of the character designs are cute!

Last TV series: uhhhh idk I watch a lot of YouTube. Drawfee, Zelda randomizers, that kinda stuff. and critrole obv lol :)

Last thing I googled: “peafowl”. I love birds and will infodump about them and I wanted to show my coworker how different peahens are to peacocks, and most people have no idea they’re called anything but peacocks.

Last thing I ate: ritz crackers and nutella. It’s a combination I wouldn’t have put together of my own accord, but in eighth grade, my friend brought some into history class and convinced me to try it and I’ve been sold ever since.

Sweet, savory, or spicy: Yes. However, savory and spicy go well together, but sweet doesn’t go with either. I have a massive sweet tooth and my mom raised me to have high standards for desserts, so when I have sweets, I want them to be to my taste. I like spicy food and I have a decent spice tolerance. It used to be higher but either adulthood or my anxiety meds reduced it rip :’(

Amount of sleep: ummmm about 6 hours? I should probably be getting more, but unfortunately sleep is boring.

Currently reading: The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner. I’m about halfway through, and it’s pretty enjoyable, but I hear it’s got a good twist later on so I’m excited.

currently obsessed with: you know it’s shadowgast lol. but more specifically I’m still in my How to Rest brainrot. I have a break next week, so I want to get the chapter 6 director’s commentary done and start working on the coda fic bc hnnngggghgg soft wizards.

I’m also obsessed with my cat. She’s turning 6 on Sunday and she’s been so snuggly lately! Look at her!!!

I always feel so awkward about tagging bc I never know who’s already been tagged, so if you want to do this, you are fully allowed to say that I tagged you 💕

[autistic-shaiapouf]

I walk past the theater kids at a table yelling lyrics from the musical they're all in but I do so with caution knowing full well that, in a different timeline, I would also be at the table

[sunjaesol]

to build a home with you

chenford | drabble | post-canon | written on the commute | title: to build a home // the cinematic orchestra

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Luce... what are you doing?"

His girlfriend looks away from cleansing their living room, not even fazed by his dubious tone and expression. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"After that guy broke in—"

"Asshole."

"—it disrupted the peace of our space," she explains.

An amused smile quirks up his lips. "You sound like your mom."

"Uh, that's not a compliment, Tim."

"I know," he quips. "Look, babe, it's just sage."

She stands her ground. "What if it makes me feel safe?"

"That's great..." Meeting her in the middle, he gently grabs her shoulders. "But I don't want you to rely on superstition."

Reflexively, her arms curl around his neck with a smirk she adopted from him, one that looked awfully good on her. "I'm sorry, officer Bradford, but... who always wears their 'lucky' socks to a football game?"

His eyes narrow, once stern yet now playful, and pulls her closer. The sage really hits his nose from this proximity, but his focus solely stays on Lucy. The nauseating memory of finding her buried alive, of having to hand over control to Nyla because he wouldn't understand, to then later realise she had terrible nightmares and couldn't date anyone without an otherwise thorough background check. Which, according to her, sucked the romance and intrigue out of a date.

Lucy Chen has many quirks and sometimes he needs to remind himself that a handful of those aren't by choice. Sage it is, then.

"Okay," he utters, kissing her forehead in lieu of surrendering. "You're amazing, if I haven't told you that recently."

She grins. "I know. Why now?"

"Someone broke in two days ago and you're..." Struggling to make sense, forever the half of the relationship that needed to dig for words, he presses his forehead against hers instead. "And you're really brave."

"Tim..."

"I don't know how else to put it, but it's true," he says, matter-of-fact, and cups her cheeks so she won't bashfully look away — though he must admit that's what made his heart start skipping beats in the shop, seeing her face light up like that. "And you know it."

Her smile widens and pecks him on the lips, chaste, and he almost chases after her when she continues cleansing the apartment. Tim moved in soon after they started dating. His house had long lost his luster and joy after everything with Isabelle and his suffocating loneliness, that he needed a change of scenery regardless of Lucy. It was hell of a convenient timing though.

Lucy and him needed to feel what it's like to live together. Staying over for a couple days is one thing, but seeing the dirty laundry, smelling the farts and catching one another in a bad moment? — whole other ballgame.

"Oh, and also—" Her head pops from behind the bathroom door, mischief clear in her shimmering eyes. "—what're you going to do with that ring in your pants drawer? Has it been there a while, or...?"

"Detective exam isn't for another year, Chen," he smoothly replies, hopelessly trying to keep his voice levelled. His girlfriend may be seven years younger, but she sure isn't less observant because of it.

Her brows raise, unimpressed. "You're making me wait a year?"

Tim smirks, "I can make you wait however long I want, babe."

"Not really. I'm thirty-one. But sure, Tim, maybe I'll just cleanse the romance out of the opal then." The humor wipes from her face to show a tender gaze, her body leaning against the threshold as she takes him in.

He stares right back, drinking her in like he's done since the first day, though different circumstances, and quietly wonders how in the hell this amazing woman chose him.

Playing along, he grabs the sage from her grasp and throws it in the sink, wanting her full attention. He knows what she means with thirty-one, a biological clock he'll never fully comprehend but Angela made him quite privy of during her pregnancy of Jackson. He knows she wants to be married first before she gets pregnant. He knows it all.

Placing kisses on her lips, cheek and ear, he whispers, "If I proposed to you tomorrow, would you say yes?"

"Depends," she mumbles, feigning casualty when he can feel her accelarating heart, "if you mean it. If you actually want to propose. If it's not a Tim-test."

"You're a P3," he chuckles. "Is this a Lucy-test?"

She kisses him, long and languid, and he figures that yes, he could propose to her tomorrow. He won't, still needing to buy groceries for her favourite meal and making sure everyone's up for drinks on Saturday, but he could. He could drop on one knee right now and be so sure, more sure than anything in his life.

Whispering against her lips, he goes, "I love you, Luce. I love you." And then, bolder, "And I love whatever we make... together."

Her eyes shine with ardent love, face burrowed in his chest as he presses his nose in her hair.

"I dream of a girl," she quietly admits.

His heart stutters in place, holding her tighter to him. A game of House people their age liked playing, fantasising about children and school districts and book clubs. He normally rolls his eyes at that behaviour, but now he loves participating. Because it's Lucy. Because he wants all of that with her.

"Hm?"

"She has your eyes and my hair and she doesn't like psych or policework at all. She's her own... little person."

"I want her to have your eyes," he counters.

She looks up. "What if it's a boy?"

"Same answer."

"What if it's twins?"

He smirks. "Then we give one away."

Gently swatting his arm, Lucy retracts herself from the embrace and plucks the dwindling sage from the sink, shooting him a look that reads: don't mess with me anymore until I'm done.

So he lets her — but not before he scoops her up and kisses the taste of soon on her lips, breath and bloodstream. Soon, he'll propose. Soon, they'll marry. Soon, a little human will waggle around the place.

They'll have everything they ever dreamed of.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@alphinias @chenfordsource @tim-lucy @jjskiaras

[frankiekatt]

1-800-Miss-Ur-Guts

Characters: Dabi / Touya Todoroki

Notes: Loosely based off the song ‘1-800-miss-ur-guts’ by the Tramp Stamps! This is the first fic I’ve ever shared and I’m so excited to share it with you guys! Dabi is one of the loves of my life so I hope you all enjoy <3

Warnings: Mentions of drug use and emotional manipulation. Umm I think that’s it but if I missed anything please let me know!

Words: 10k

Synopsis: She was not you, and here he was, in her apartment, in her bed, kissing her, pleasing her, fucking her. He felt like he was betraying you the first few times he did it. He had to keep reminding himself that you were gone, you weren’t his girlfriend anymore. He could have sex with whoever he wanted. After the first couple girls, the guilt and disgust melted away and morphed into delirium. If he was in bed with some girl he met at a bar, he could forget your face. If he kissed her lips in a sloppy, rushed manner, he could forget the way he felt to be touched by you. If he listened to her maddening moans as he fucked into her, he could forget the way your voice sounded, just for a moment. And that was enough for him to survive each day without you.

The air was stale and warm when Dabi first opened his eyes. It was dark, the room unfamiliar and the bed was uncomfortably hot and cramped due to the naked body that was sprawled out beside him.

Never like how mornings were with you.

With a deep groan, Dabi sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. 1:36pm.

He had slept way too fucking late.

Rising slowly from the bed so as not to wake the sleeping blonde beside him, Dabi began to slip his jeans and tattered t-shirt back onto his body despite the pain in his head flashing hard and hot. Once dressed, he quickly walked to the bathroom and softly closed the door behind him. Cobalt eyes stared back at him in the mirror, tired and spent. His black hair was messy, sticking out in all directions, and the skin underneath his eyes were stained purple and black from stress and from the alcohol he consumed the night before. There was a large, dark bruise on the side of his neck from where – Misa? Mila? – had sucked on the night before. Dabi Todoroki looked like a fucking disaster.

Looking away from his disheveled appearance, Dabi turned on the cold tap water and splashed his face in an attempt to soothe his gnarly headache. It works in just the slightest, as the cool water felt revivifying on his inked skin. Grabbing a small hand towel from underneath the hotel’s sink, Dabi wiped his face gingerly until all the water droplets were gone.

He needed to leave soon. To get ready. To see you.

“Hey, you alright in there?” a high-pitched voice asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Shit. Dabi really did not feel like conversing with last night’s drunken hook-up. He could barely remember what she said to catch his attention in the small, dingy bar he frequented almost each night, or how they ended up in the equally small and dingy hotel where they had sloppy, unsatisfying sex. Dabi couldn’t even remember her name, and he didn’t exactly care.

Clearing his throat, Dabi grunted out a loud, “Yeah. M’fine.” Smoothing his hair back and glancing at himself in the mirror one last time, he reached for the door knob and pulled open the door.

He was greeted by the blonde women who wore a lopsided smile. She had thrown on her black cotton panties that seemed to be a size too small and the light pink tank top he vaguely remembered her wearing last night, minus a bra. Her short, blonde hair was stuck to the sides of her neck with sweat, reminding him just how utterly different she was from you. Your hair was longer, always brushed and either elegantly falling down your back or neatly put up.

“Mornin’, handsome,” she purred.

“Morning.”

“I was thinkin’ maybe you and I could go down the street, grab a coffee together, maybe beat this hangover,” she crooned, reaching out to run her fingers down Dabi’s chest.

Stepping to the side to avoid her touch, Dabi grabbed his black hoodie jacket off the floor and slipped it on.

“Nah, can’t. I have a thing today.”

The blonde’s face fell slightly before she covered it up with a sneer. “Thing? What kind of thing?”

With his back still turned to her as he slipped on his black sneakers, Dabi rolled his eyes. He had neither the time nor patience for this. “Uh,” he started, “a concert thing.”

The blonde girl hummed in excitement. “That’s cool! Maybe I could go with you and we could-”

“No,” Dabi snapped, “it’s not that kind of concert. Listen, I really need to get home, so, uh, see you around,” and with that, Dabi walked out of the room, leaving the nameless blonde women alone.

 *                                                                      *                                                                               *

 It was just after 2 o’clock by the time Dabi arrived at his apartment. He hurriedly walked up the steps to the second floor, dug his keys out of his pocket, and walked into his small living room. Everything was the same as he had left it the night before; empty takeout containers littered the coffee table, a couple articles of clothing strewn across the room, and all of the thick curtains closed over the large glass windows that looked out over the city. It was dark. And lonely.

Just like it had been since you left this apartment. Left him.

You and Dabi had officially met in your last year of high school. It was by accident really, but Dabi has always thanked the God that he didn’t believe in for putting you both in the same place at the same time.

  There was a spot behind the stage in the school’s auditorium where Dabi liked to go during lunch period to smoke. ‘The Spot’ was a small corner in the postscenium behind stage, which was usually hidden behind old props and costume racks. It was cozy and secluded, and was Dabi’s favorite place to be at school. His secret spot.

That was until you found it.

 It was a Thursday when you had stumbled upon Dabi hiding behind some of the props that were going to be used in this year’s production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ When you caught him, he had the hood of his jacket pulled over the top of his head and a joint between his lips.

The sight of him had startled you a bit, because you thought you were alone. The auditorium was usually vacant during lunch period, which you thought would be the perfect time to practice the several short ballads you would be performing on your violin with the rest of the school’s orchestra on the opening night of the play.

“Oh my god,” you shrieked and stumbled backwards. Dabi’s head snapped up to survey your face, cobalt eyes wide, pupils expanded. “You scared the shit out of me,” you breathed softly, pressing two dainty hands over your racing heart.

Dabi blinked up at you with a blank expression before lowering the joint to his side and clearing his throat. “Sorry. No one usually comes back here this time of day.”

You recognized this boy. You both had English 6th period, but have never spoken to each other. He always sat at the very back and never raised his hand. Never participated in group projects. Never did anything, really.

“Yeah, um, I just came to practice a few pieces for the play. I needed to get a music rack,” you nodded toward the black iron stand perched to Dabi’s left, right behind a small, emerald green swan fainting sofa used for the production of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ two years ago.

“Ah. You in the orchestra?”

“Um, yeah, actually! First violin.”

Dabi didn’t know what “first violin” meant, but he kind of liked the way your face lit up when you said it. He hurriedly pushed himself off the floor and grabbed the music stand which was surprisingly light. “Here,” he offered.

 You went to grab it, careful to avoid touching his hand, and let out a soft ‘thank you’ before walking out from backstage to the orchestra pit. Dabi watched your retreating form and silently hoped you wouldn’t tell anyone what he was doing in there. He was already in enough trouble for skipping class so often, and didn’t need any more drawn-out lectures from his parents or more days added to his weekend detentions. Settling back down on the floor, he set the joint back in between his lips and dug his phone and earbuds out of his pocket. He had about 12 minutes left before he would be forced to go back to class. The moment he decided on a song to listen to, however, he was interrupted by the sound of a violin.  

He wasn’t sure if he liked the sound at first. It was shrill and loud and unexpected. Then, the sound began to melt into a beautiful melody and the shrillness soon became a rich and elegant sound that danced in Dabi’s ears.

Now intrigued, Dabi screwed the end of his joint into the floor and tossed it into a nearby trash bin before he pushed himself off the floor and walked out from behind the stage, where he was was met by the sight of you, softly moving your bow up and down the strings of your violin. You were standing despite the fact that there was a chair planted behind you, and your head was moving slightly from side to side in tune to the soft melody. Dabi thought the sight of you was beautiful and alluring. He had seen you in class before and walked past you in the hallways, but he had never actually known you, never actually saw you quite this way.

Sweet. Elegant. Pretty. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember your name though.

The song you were playing was coming to an end, as was lunch period and Dabi wished he had just a little more time to listen to you play. To watch you play. But then the bell rang, and it was time for you both to head to class.

You lowered your violin from your neck to begin putting the instrument and sheet music away, when the boy with the ripped jeans and messy black hair caught your eye from up on the stage. He met your eyes, but said nothing, and neither did you. You weren’t sure what you should say or if you should even say anything. You had never spoken to this boy before, and now he had just listened to you play music and was currently staring at you.

“I liked that,” Dabi blurted, shattering the silence.

“Um thanks. It’s for the play tomorrow night.” You shifted from one foot to the other under Dabi’s fierce gaze and hoped that the darkness of the theater was hiding the faint blush that was scattered across your cheeks. Dabi Todoroki had just complimented you. And it felt nice.

You stared at each other for a bit longer before you finally broke your gaze and picked up your violin case. “I should probably head to class. Ms. Hatsu hates tardiness,” you said shyly.

Dabi cracked a small smile, which you found quite lovely. “Sure. I’ll see you in 6th period then.”

 And he did see you in 6th period. Dabi had never paid much attention to his classmates before, but today was different. Today he wanted to see you sitting in the third seat in the second row. Four desks away from him. ‘Four desks too many,’ he thought. But as if the gods were listening to Dabi’s thoughts, Dabi’s literature teacher announced that today the class would be doing partner work. And without a second thought to consider his actions, Dabi rose from his seat and made his way over to you.

 You were never fond of partner work. You preferred to keep to yourself, work alone, and avoid conversing with most people. You were shy in nature, so every announcement of partner work in any class was slightly stressful to you. Finding a partner was usually more work than it was worth. Today, however, there was no need to go search for a partner to work with. Someone had already chosen you, and was pulling up a chair to your desk.

“So,” Dabi drawled smoothly as he plopped down in his seat. “Where do you wanna start.”

“S-start?” This boy who you had only met 20 minutes ago, only exchanged a few words with, wanted to be your partner?

“Yeah. You wanna start with The Iliad or The Odyssey?” He pulled out a few slightly crumpled pages of notes from his school bag before meeting your eyes and raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

“Oh, um...let’s start with The Iliad.”

The rest of the hour was spent conversing with Dabi on how each ‘hero’ of the Trojan War was really just a villain, and through this conversation, you realized several things about Dabi. Firstly, he was funny. He cracked a few jokes here and there, which made you genuinely laugh with ease. It was a nice feeling for the both of you, how easily he could make you laugh. Secondly, he was smart. He was articulate and insightful, though you sensed he was just a lazy person when it came to school work. And lastly, you were pretty sure you were now crushing hard on Dabi Todoroki. His aloof personality you and the rest of the school had always been privy to seemed to be totally foreign as he dazzled with humor and charm in front of you.

And Dabi had finally learned your name. Y/N. He thought it was pretty.

The bell rang signaling the end of class, and Dabi slid away from your desk. “One more class of the day,” he sighed as he grabbed his bag off the floor. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him. You really hoped you would.

  Dabi stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. It was 3:47pm. He had just over an hour until your recital began.

He swiped a hand over the foggy mirror and peered at himself once more. The skin beneath his eyes were still dark, but he looked a little more alive now that he had showered. He was nervous. There was a sharp pain in his lower stomach and Dabi didn’t know if it was from the anxiety, he felt knowing he would see your face tonight, or if it was from his hangover. Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was just because he was scared. Scared to see you. Scared to talk to you. Scared that as soon as you spotted him in the crowd, you would dedicate the night to avoiding him and he wouldn't get to speak to you at all.

He really hoped he would get to talk to you. He hadn’t heard your voice in so long. It had been just over half a year since you two had gotten in that tense argument that had ultimately ended your relationship. In reality, your relationship had been over weeks before the fight, but neither of you were brave enough to admit it. Dabi, because he loved you and couldn't imagine living a life without you. You, because life with Dabi had become so natural that the thought of leaving terrified you. What if you regretted it? What if your life becomes directionless without him? You had spent nearly a year and a half of your life with him. He was your first love. First kiss. First everything since the opening night of your senior year high school play.

 A Midsummer Night’s Dream was your favorite play. Shakespeare, in your opinion, was quite wordy, but you greatly admired the several love stories and humor weaved throughout the play, and tonight you would be a part of the orchestra playing for this production. You were beyond ecstatic to perform.

The first half of the play went smoothly, and you were filled with adrenaline. Something about playing your violin for a crowd of people filled you with your body with a euphoric feeling. Your chest was full, blood was rushing through your veins and your heart was pounding with pure excitement. This feeling was only magnified once you spotted a certain raven-haired boy sitting in the audience in the front row. The 30-minute intermission had just begun and Dabi Todoroki was making his way over to you as you gingerly tucked your instrument back into its case.

“Hey. You sound pretty awesome out there,” he praised.

“T-thanks,” you blushed. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight”

Dabi scratched the back of his head and looked away from you. “Yeah, well, I heard there was bestiality in this thing and I wanted to check it out.” That forced a small giggle out of you. Dabi liked that sound a lot. “Anyway, I, uh, wanted to ask you if you were thirsty. There’s a concession stand out in the hallway. Figured you and I could get a drink, maybe sit outside until the next part of the play starts?”

Your heartbeat began to quicken. Was he flirting with you? Surely not. Surely, he was just being friendly to you. Right?

“Yeah, sure! I’d love that actually.”

Dabi grinned at you. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

The air was frigid and you had, unfortunately, worn a short sleeved black dress to opening night in an attempt to blend in with the darkness of the auditorium. When the chattering of your teeth became audible and your shivering was too severe to ignore, Dabi quickly slipped his jacket onto your shoulders. It smelled like nicotine and pine wood. Just like him.

“Thank you,” you lilted, and Dabi just hummed in response. “So, why did you really come tonight?” Dabi eyed you from his spot beside you as you both sat on the large brick steps in front of the school building. “You didn’t seem too interested in Homer the other day in class, so why would you want to see a Shakespearian play?”

Dabi clicked his tongue and averted his gaze. Why did he come tonight? “I dunno,” he started. “I guess I just wanted to see you again. Outside of school. And... I like the way you play your violin. It's… relaxing.”

Your face was burning at 100 degrees. You were sure of it. “Y-you wanted to see me? Why”

“Look, I just think you’re pretty, alright. And I like talking to you and shit.”

He thought you were what? He liked doing what? “I like talking to you too,” you breathed softly. You hadn’t meant to say it. You were embarrassed enough as it was, and the slip of your tongue only made the already high temperature of your cheeks rise.

Dabi turned to look at you then. He thought you looked ethereal in that moment. Wide eyes staring back at him, expectantly. Legs dressed in tight black pantyhose crossed and angled toward him. A bright pink blush dusting your cheeks. God, he wanted to fucking kiss you.

So, he did.

He jerked forward and caught your lips by surprise, which forced you to emit a small noise from your throat. His lips were cold and smooth and unfamiliar and he tasted like smoke and mint flavored gum. His lips moved fervently, as if they were on a mission to prove something, until you moved your finger into his inky hair and pressed his face closer to yours. His lips slowed at that moment, and his movements became gentler. He wanted to tell you he liked you. He wanted to ask you out on a date. He wanted to take you to the movies or to dinner or to just drive you around in his car and talk to you. He wanted to touch you everywhere. Your face. Your chest. Your legs, your ass, your cunt. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body with his fingertips.

It was you who broke the kiss. The combination of Dabi’s lips against yours and the freezing air was making it difficult for you to breathe. You rested your forehead against Dabi’s and chuckled.

“Something funny?” he grunted and pulled away from you.

“No, no, not at all. I just never imagined that Dabi Todoroki would be kissing while we freeze our asses off.”

Dabi scoffed at that. “Yeah, well, it happened.” He leaned forward until his face was inches from yours. “And we should do it again. Tomorrow sound good?”

“Y-yeah! Tomorrow is perfect.”

Dabi’s cobalt blue eyes looked like they were glowing. You wanted to look at them longer. You wanted to watch as his eyes got closer and closer until they closed and exchanged themselves for his lips against yours. But your thirty minutes were almost up. The orchestra pit was waiting for you.

“I should get back inside. The second act is starting in a couple minutes.” You stood up then, wrapping Dabi’s jacket tightly around yourself

Dabi got to his feet alongside you and held out his hand, which you took. He led you back inside, back into the warmth, and into the auditorium where the crowd was ushering back to their seats. Dabi whispered a little ‘good luck,’ in your ear before taking his seat in the front row.

Although the orchestra pit was extremely warm due to the building’s heater, stage lights, and the amount of people that were crammed into the little space side by side, you couldn’t bring yourself to shed Dabi’s jacket until late that night when you were getting ready for bed. And even then, you used the soft red fabric as a pillow so you could keep his smell close to your heart.

 Dabi was wearing a black suit. He hadn’t dressed up in months, so the stiff material felt completely alien on his skin. His jet-black vest was slightly wrinkled due to being stuffed in the back of his closet for months on end and his ‘dress shoes’ were really just his cleanest pair of black boots. Dabi had no doubt that he would look ratty and out of place among the well-dressed attendees at your orchestra’s recital this evening, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He was used to looking like a second-rate citizen next to you anyway. You had always cared about your appearance to the next level; every article of clothing you owned was always ironed, every shoe polished, every piece of jewelry was sparkling - a complete contrast to Dabi. That was one of the things Dabi loved most about you - you had your shit together and it was always physically obvious. You were organized, driven, ambitious, clean. Everything that Dabi was not.

It was 4:23pm. Dabi had 37 minutes until the recital started, and he still needed a tie to wear. Dabi had only ever owned one tie in his entire life, and it was a tie made of deep red silk. You had told Dabi a couple days after he asked you to go with him to your senior prom that red was your favorite color on him, so he had decided to buy a red tie for your special night out.

The tie was placed in the very back of his sock drawer and was the only piece of cloth that was folded neatly. Dabi was hesitant to pull it out of the drawer. He had only ever worn it that one night. That one night where the only thing in his eyes, his nose, his head, was you. That one night where he dressed in a black fitting suit, dawning the red, silky tie you had picked out for him the week before. That one night where he felt like someone had punched him in the fucking stomach because breathing became an immense effort after you shyly walked out of your front door, dressed in a long, red satin dress, your mom following close behind with a big, flashy camera. That one night when you told him you loved him after your first dance in the decked-out school gymnasium. That one night where he convinced you to leave the school after half an hour so he could fuck you in his car. That one night where he convinced you to swallow those little blue pills he was always shoving down his throat. That one night where he whispered a barely audible ‘I love you’ into your hair as you dozed off in the passenger seat of his car, high out of your mind. Looking back, Dabi could see that, for you, prom night was the beginning of the end. Drugs and rough sex were things you just weren’t quite ready for. Prom night for him, however, was just the beginning of your relationship. He couldn't understand that the things he would do often, oxy, car sex, ditching school events, weren’t for you. In his own mind, Dabi was convinced he was showing you how to have fun. The 20 minutes he spent fucking you into the back seat of his black Camaro were heaven. You were warm and wet and your arms clinged to him as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat and he loved it. And for the next few months following that night, you thought you did too.

It was a 20-minute walk from Dabi’s downtown small apartment to The Bleu Theater. It would’ve been a measly 5-minute drive, if Dabi still had his Camaro. Dabi thinks maybe you would still be by his side if he had his Camaro.

  Dabi was royally fucked. He had promised you right when he dropped you off at Micaretta College for your first orchestra rehearsal that he would only be out for a few hours with his brother, Natsuo. He promised he wouldn’t drink, wouldn’t smoke, wouldn’t do any type of narcotic today while he was driving himself around. He was lying, of course, but he thought he would be able to handle himself. He thought he was ‘perfectly fine, Natsuo, let it the hell go,’ after downing a shot of tequila or five. He thought his high was nothing serious, despite the fact that he swallowed 3 oxys when he and Natsuo parted ways outside of the bar.

But he was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

The silence on the other end of the phone as he made his one phone call to you, mumbling that he was in a holding cell for crashing his Camaro into a government postal box because he was drunk and high and he needed to pick you up, made him nervous. He knew you would be upset - maybe sad, worried, angry - but your silence was conveying another emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Okay,” you said blankly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You showed up to the Tokyo police station ten minutes after your phone call just like you said you would - dressed in the same black and grey mini dress you were wearing this morning when he dropped you off. He had watched you dress yourself in the bedroom you two shared in your small but cozy apartment this morning from the queen-sized bed. Watching you with tired, lazy eyes, Dabi thought you looked so fucking cute. Your hair was still pulled up in a half-hearted pony-tail from when you washed your face minutes before, and your small, dainty hands were fiddling with the metal zipper on the back of your dress. He had cheekily told you ‘you're wasting your time zipping that up, princess. I’m just gonna rip it open when you get home tonight.’

Your cheeks had been coated with a light blush at that, and you let out a small giggle, glancing at him from the mirror with a shy smile on your face.

You had looked so happy this morning. Your smile was dazzling, eyes bright and lively.

You looked like the complete opposite now. A mere twelve hours later Dabi had managed to wipe that smile from your face, replacing it with a straight, thin line. The sparkle had been washed from your doe eyes, where only a blank, empty look now held its place.

He had really fucked up.

Signatures, paperwork, and a large down payment for the fine Dabi now had to pay took almost half an hour to complete before Dabi was allowed to walk free and was given a form that he was told to keep for his court date in 14 days. And then it was time to go home.

The 20-minute walk it took to get from the police department to your home was quiet and tense. You hadn’t spoken a word and Dabi hadn’t either. He was afraid of what you would say if he tried to speak to you. Would you yell at him? Would you cry? Tell him he was a failure, a fuck-up, that he wasn’t just ruining his own life, but yours too?

He already knew all of these things. His father reminded him every chance he got. He had barely managed to graduate high school, he never enrolled in college like you had, he was unemployed, paying his half of the rent with a monthly allowance he received along with the rest of his siblings from his grandmother. Each day was spent drinking, downing pills, inhaling blow, infiltrating his skin with needles, waiting for you to get home from school so he could kiss you, touch you, love you, and pretend he had a normal life - a normal, healthy relationship.

Just like you were.

“Guess we’re gonna have to use Uber from now on,” Dabi grunted, trying to slice through the tension that was strongly swimming in the air around the two of you.

“Guess so,” you said faintly.

Dabi’s eyes flash at your flat tone. “Look,” he said, teeth clenched. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I screwed up. You don’t need to make it worse.”

In an instant, your face morphed from blank and expressionless to white hot anger. “Me? You think I’m making things worse? I’m not the one who got shit faced in the middle of the day! I’m not the one who wrecked the fucking car into government property because you couldn’t see five feet in front of you!”

“I know that for Christ’s sake! Jesus fuck, I just spent two hours in jail for it! I. Fucked. Up! Get the fuck over it!”

You held his gaze for a few more moments before looking away. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you knew he needed to hear. But you were exhausted. You were so damn tired of fighting, of yelling, of constantly wondering if your life would always consist of picking up the pieces after Dabi shatters everything in his wake. You were tired of him.

“Okay,” you sighed dejectedly. “Let’s just go home. I have orchestra again tomorrow. We both need some sleep.”

Dabi didn’t say anything in response. What could he say? He could see the drained look in your eyes clear as day. He had pulled you out of your evening class to come bail him out of jail after totaling his car. He had promised you he wouldn’t drink while he was out. That he wouldn’t pop any pills while he was out. But he did.

  The line to get into the theater wasn’t too long once he arrived at the front entrance of the large stone building. There were only about fifteen people waiting to hand in their tickets to get inside, and the process seemed like it was going fairly quickly. Dabi pulled the crumpled, grey admission ticket from his coat pocket and handed it to the usher. Watching the man dressed in a baby blue suit scan the barcode on his ticket felt like watching paint dry. He needed to get inside and sit down. His head was pounding from his hangover and his heart was racing from anxiety. He hadn't seen you in six months. Not in person, anyway. He spent plenty of time stalking your social media accounts, looking to see if you had started dating again, if school was going okay for you, if you were happy without him in your life. He didn’t find much over the past few months, much to Dabi’s dismay. The only relevant thing he was able to find out about you was that your college orchestra group was conducting a recital tonight at The Bleu Theater, and that you would have a violin solo. Dabi bought his $250 dollar ticket three months in advance the second he read the flyer you had posted on your Instagram account.

The inside of the theater was as Dabi had expected it to be. Lined with red carpet and donning two grand marble staircases The halls of the theater were littered with high society aristocrats dressed in suits and evening gowns. Although he had dressed in an evening suit, Dabi knew he looked like lower class beside these people. In that moment though, Dabi couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed. The only thing lingering on his mind was you. What you might be wearing. What he might do if he snagged a chance to speak to you. What he would say if you decided to hear him out.

He didn’t have time to think about it though. The recital was starting, and Dabi needed to find his seat, which he knew was in the second row from the stage. All the seats in the very front had already been bought out by the time Dabi had purchased his ticket, so seat J in row B was the second-best option.

Hurrying down the aisle, Dabi found his seat in between two women dressed in both green and silver evening gowns. They were older women with hot pink lipstick coating their wrinkled lips who raised their brows at Dabi as he sat in between them. The MC began his little speech, thanking everyone for attending tonight and asking them to please silence their cellphones. He announced the first player of the night, a cellist who was dressed in a long, black, lacy dress. He hadn’t remembered to grab a program from the man handing them out beside the entrance of the auditorium, but the women in green to his right had one and was currently reading through it. He glanced to her side, hoping to catch a glimpse of your name so he could prepare himself to see you for the first time since your break-up.

And there it was. Act number two. Y/N L/N, violin solo.

You were next and Dabi felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He was sure everyone in the room could hear the thump thump thump of the organ in his chest despite the rich boom the cello filled the room with. The cellist was reaching the climax of the Cadenza piece. You would be walking out of stage soon. In just seconds, Dabi would have the chance to lock eyes with you. He hoped he would be able to convey the love he felt for you, his anguish at the fact that you left him all alone in a world he felt had never accepted him, his guilt at making your life a living hell because he was too selfish to let you go the second things began to deteriorate. Deep down, Dabi had known your relationship was doomed.

Deep down, Dabi had known your relationship was doomed. That anxious, petrifying feeling of knowing the only heaven he was convinced he would ever know would one day leave him shortly after you had started your first year of college. You had gotten into your dream college, while Dabi hadn’t bothered to apply anywhere. You were working three days a week at a music store, teaching children how to play the violin. Dabi was living off an allowance, popping pills all day. You had aspirations. You were working toward a future you desperately wanted - you wanted to become a violinist for The Halle, you wanted to move to the city - you wanted to be with Dabi. But Dabi didn’t have dreams like you did. His father had instilled in him since he could form coherent sentences that he was a failure. He was a disgrace. He wasn’t even his real son. He was a product of his mother’s extramarital indiscretion - a stain on the Todoroki name. A mistake.

Dabi believed all his life that all he would ever be was a let-down. The only good thing in his life was you. Dabi Todoroki had managed to fall in love with a quiet girl who was ambitious and smart and beautiful - and just like everything else he did in his life - he screwed it up.

 “I need you to come home”

He shouldn’t be asking you that. Tonight was an important night for you - scouts for the Chordis Orchestra were in the audience tonight. Your school was putting on a production of Phantom of the Opera - your favorite musical - and you were lucky enough to be the first sophomore to play in the orchestra pit on opening night.

“What? Dabi - what’s going on?”

He felt like he was going crazy. Why were you asking so many questions? Why couldn’t you just come home? He needed you!

“Look,” he gulped as his knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. “I-my dad was here earlier and-”

“Your dad?” Dabi’s father, Enji, had never visited your home before. Dabi would never invite him and Enji would never lay out an offer. Dabi had told you a little about the issues he had with his father during late night talks where you and Dabi would lay naked in the back seat of his car, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“We got into a fight and I don’t even know what happened, I just opened my eyes and our window was busted and my knuckles were bleeding and dad was gone. I was so fucking pissed and I don’t even remember uncapping the fucking needle...but I think I took too much.”

Your blood ran cold. You hated when Dabi would use heroin. You had tried it once when the two of you first moved into your apartment together, and you never wanted that substance in your body again. You knew how Dabi could get when he took too much of one thing. He would get angry, paranoid, anxious and clingy. You were terrified one of these days you would come home and find him dead on the bathroom floor with a needle sticking out of his arm or pills lodged in his throat.

“Dabi what do you mean you took too much? D-do I need to call an ambulance!?”

“No! No, don’t call the fucking police. I’ll get charged with substance abuse. Fuck! Just come home!”

“Okay, okay, Dabi. I’m coming home, alright? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You quickly packed up your instrument, sheet music, and informed the director you would not be able to perform tonight. It was a tense conversation, as Ms. Hatsuki had given you a big opportunity to play tonight. But Dabi wanted you home. And he was more important, right?

The bursting open of the wooden door startled Dabi. He had been staring blankly at the wall, scratching at the needle scars that were riddled along his left forearm. It felt like he had been waiting hours for you to get home to him, when only a mere 20 minutes had passed before you burst into the living room.

“Dabi,” you breathed, “are you okay? You look so pale.” You rushed over to the brown sofa where he was seated and took his hand in yours. His hand was coated in brown, dry blood and there was a small gash across his knuckles. It wasn’t too bad, but he would probably need a couple stitches.

“M’fine. I think...I’m just coming down really hard. My hand hurts, too.”

Coming down too hard? How many times have you been through this? There had been several occasions where Dabi had called you while you were in the middle of class, or in rehearsal, or out with friends or family, frantically begging you to come home. Each time he made one of those calls, he worried you sick. He never sounded like the Dabi you knew like the back of your hand. He was sacred and sounded like he was close to death every time. And every time you came running, he would lay his head in your lap, tell you he’s sorry, that he wants to do better for you, and then do it all over again the next week.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take. At first, it was small, tolerable things. Things you could look past because you loved him so much. In the beginning, when Dabi went past his limit, he would grow overly irritable, snapping at you out of nowhere. Then, that gradually turned into full blown meltdowns with Dabi shedding a few tears as he paced around the apartment, not sure if he was angry or scared, not knowing what he could possibly be angry at or scared of.

Then, that morphed into complete paranoia. Dabi always thought he would die when he would go past his limit, but he would never do anything to help his fears. He was always afraid you would leave him all by himself in this tiny apartment that only felt like home when you were there. He was afraid his father would finally cut him out of the family because he’s a bad influence on his little brother - because he’s a good-for-nothing junkie with no direction in life.

He was afraid of problems that only he was able to cause. Problems he couldn’t stop causing.

Your mouth set into a thin line, a sight Dabi wished he wasn’t so familiar with. “Dabi,” you started evenly. “I thought you were fucking dying. You made me leave the most important performance of my life - for what?”

Dabi’s puppy eyes quickly morphed into piercing cobalt as he scowled. “For what? Princess, I need you here. I felt like I was fucking dying, I need a little support here!”

“WHAT ABOUT ME!?” you screamed. It startled the both of you. The scream seemed to rip itself from your throat without permission. The shocked look on your boyfriend’s face almost made you back down. But you wouldn’t – couldn’t back down this time.

“What about supporting me, huh, Dabi? Week after week, I drop everything, my whole life, to come running back to you. To make sure you’re okay. You make promise after promise to stop this shit, to get clean, to get your life together so I CAN GET MINE TOGETHER! Fuck, it’s like I’m your mother instead of your girlfriend.”

Dabi watched you silently from his spot on the couch. He had never seen you so angry before, especially at him. The smack running through his veins urged him to yell back at you. To scream that you were selfish. That you can’t talk to him like that.

But he doesn’t. Because he knows you’re right.

Deep down, he knows he’s ruining your life. He knows he’s continually taking opportunity after opportunity from you - because he doesn’t want to be alone. He knows his drug induced moods are wearing on you. He knows he’s tearing your heart apart by worrying you, yelling at you, destroying you. He knows he does not deserve you. But even so, he hopes to God you won’t leave. He’s too selfish to let you go on his own - he would rather watch you crumble because of him than watch you flourish without him.

“Tonight was so important, Dabi. You know that.” Your eyes were filling with tears. Your heart felt like it was shattering within your chest. You didn’t want to. Or did you? You weren’t so sure what you wanted anymore. But you did know what you needed. “I-I can’t Dabi. I cannot do this with you anymore.”

“W-what? The fuck are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t stay in this relationship with you, Dabi! It's tearing me completely apart. It's tearing me apart because you’re tearing yourself apart. I’ve tried and tried, but I just can’t do it. I hit my limit months ago. This - us - it needs to end now.”

Neither of you said anything after that. It was strange, in a way. You expected your boyfriend - your ex-boyfriend, would beg you not to leave. Like he always did when he was paranoid and high.

Dabi, on the other hand, had always imagined, in his hazy, drunken paranoia, that he would rage if you ever tried to leave him like this. What was he supposed to do without you? He had nothing in life but you. Every day was about you; waiting for you to get home from school, cooking for you, fucking you, talking to you, living life through you. But he wasn’t angry. All he felt in those next few minutes as the two of you sat side by side on the couch for the very last time, was sorrow.

His father was right, as he always was. He destroyed everything he touched. One tiny brush of his fingertips set anything in his wake ablaze.

When you stood from the couch to go pack a bag, Dabi couldn't bring himself to look at you. He couldn’t force out a single syllable. All he could do was sit. Sit and listen as the girl he loved gathered every piece of herself and walked out of his life.

The next few weeks following the break up were the worst. You were ignoring Dabi’s texts and calls, and he didn’t even know where you were. He assumed you were staying with a friend or had moved back in with your mother - but he wished you would answer one of his texts so he could know for sure.

Dabi didn’t leave his apartment until a month after the two of you broke up. He honestly didn’t see a reason to. After he graduated high school and moved in with you, he only left the house to go grocery shopping, or buy you little gifts, or go on dates with you. Now that you were gone, what reason did he have to venture outside of his safe space?

Alcohol. Sex.

Two enticing reasons.

The first time Dabi had sex with another person after your break up, he felt like throwing up. Her voice was higher than yours, her nose was bigger than yours, the way she looked when she came on his cock was nowhere near as beautiful as yours was.

She was not you.

She was not you, and here he was, in her apartment, in her bed, kissing her, pleasing her, fucking her. He felt like he was betraying you the first few times he did it. He had to keep reminding himself that you were gone, you weren’t his girlfriend anymore. He could have sex with whoever he wanted.

After the first couple girls, the guilt and disgust melted away and morphed into delirium. If he was in bed with some girl he met at a bar, he could forget your face. If he kissed her lips in a sloppy, rushed manner, he could forget the way he felt to be touched by you. If he listened to her maddening moans as he fucked into her, he could forget the way your voice sounded, just for a moment. And that was enough for him to survive each day without you.

 It was scary seeing you for the first time in so long. You looked the same as you always had; beautiful, elegant, and perfect.

You were wearing a white, spaghetti sleeved dress that reached to the middle of your leg and your hair was curled delicately and was falling freely past your shoulders. Dabi had spent half a year without seeing you or hearing from you at all, and still, the first sight of you made him feel like he couldn’t fucking breath. Every little detail was special to him.

He could see the nervousness written all over your face. You were used to playing in an orchestra pit, away from everyone’s line of sight. You felt most comfortable hidden in the darkness, playing music that was meant to add character to a play, not right in the spotlight, playing raw music for everyone to judge you with. But Dabi also knew that this is what you always truly wanted. You wanted people to see you and hear you, no matter how terrifying it was.

You started off slow, moving your bow gently and fluidly across the strings of your violin. It was soft and melodic, and only Dabi knew that this was your signature build up - it was how you always liked to play music. Just as you were doing now, you had always preferred to start everything off slow and delicate - gradually and powerfully zipping your bow across the metal strings to create an earth-shattering sound that was somehow richer than the cello. Dabi had noticed this the very first time he ever heard you play in that empty auditorium in high school, and still now you were able to knock him out with your beautiful talent.

You were avoiding looking out into the crowd to evade stage fright. You knew that if you looked out into the human sea, you would face the possibility of choking. This was an incredibly important night. Your mom had joked before you left her house this morning that tonight would mark the beginning of your musical career. You could not afford to mess anything up.

But then you looked up. You tore your gaze from the floor and glanced out into the abyss and fount cobalt blue eyes staring intently back at you. His gaze was enough to almost make your left hand fingers falter over the notes, but you regained your composure almost as fast as you had lost it. Looking away from him seemed impossible right then. Here he was, Dabi, your ex-boyfriend, your first love, sitting in the audience, listening to you play your heart out. Why was he here? How did he even know you would be playing tonight?

A million and one questions swam through your mind. You were playing on autopilot now. You couldn’t focus on anything but him. His inky black hair was combed neatly, just as it was on prom night. He was wearing a suit and he looked completely dressed for the occasion. Your song was coming to an end and you needed to snap out of it. The ending deserved your attention. You owed it to yourself to forget Dabi, just for this second, to focus on what you had in front of you.

The floor wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as Dabi was, but it was where you had to force yourself to look for the remainder of the song. It came to a finish 20 seconds later, and the applause was almost too loud for your ears. A proud grin spread across your face as you grabbed the neck of your instrument and bowed before walking back into the wings.

You weren’t sure why Dabi would come tonight. He had stopped trying to contact you three months ago after you ignored each and every one of his attempts. It was painful to even think about him after your break up. There were many times you felt as if you had made a mistake in leaving. Every memory of Dabi holding you to his chest when you would cry to try and comfort you, every memory of Dabi whispering out that he loved you late at night, every memory of Dabi kissing you goodbye as you left for class each morning, was almost enough to break you. But the fact was that you didn’t just leave for yourself. Dabi was too dependent on you. If you had continued to enable his drug habit, allowing him to think that he could be as destructive as he wanted and nothing would happen to him, he would end up killing himself. So, you stood your ground, and distanced yourself as far away from him as you could.

But he was here now. Dressed nicely, watching you on the most important night of your life. Did he want to talk? Or was he here for something else? There was only one way to find out.

Dabi had gotten up from his seat as soon as you exited the stage. He wasn’t too eager to listen to some guy play the piano for 2 minutes straight. He had only come here to see you. The air was warm and inviting outside as Dabi sat on the building’s steps and pulled out his e-cigarette. He wanted to go back in and find you, just as he planned when he first got here. Seeing you on stage tonight, however, made him think twice. You looked beautiful and vibrant. Despite the look of nervousness you wore tonight, he knew you were confident in what you could do. You smiled tonight. It didn’t look fake or forced, like it had months ago. It looked completely genuine and Dabi didn’t want to take that away from you.

You were happy without him. You were thriving without him. He needed to stay away from you.

“You’re missing the rest of the recital, you know.”

Your voice brought Dabi out of his head. He hadn’t heard your voice in so long, it almost sounded alien to him.

You stood two steps above him, still wearing your white dress. Still just as beautiful as you were on stage.

Dabi was searching for the right words to say, but he was coming up perpetually blank. He wanted to say the right thing, but he never knew what the right thing to say was.

“I, uh, only came to see one act.” You smiled softly at that, and Dabi felt like someone had shot him. He missed you. He missed you so much and your smile only reminded him of what he inevitably pushed away 6 months ago.

“Well, mister Beethoven,” you joked, “how did I do?”

You were walking closer to him and Dabi wasn’t sure if he should move away or not. He was afraid that if you got too close, he might burn you. “God, it was awful. It sounded like a tortured cat.”

A laugh tore itself from your throat as you sat beside him on the steps. “Yeah, well. That was your fault. I didn’t expect to see you out there. Caught me off guard.”

“You were great.” Dabi wanted to smile back at you, but he couldn’t. “Felt like I was watching an actual angel perform.”

It was quiet for a moment after that. Neither of you knew what to say. Why were you out here with him? Why did he come to see you tonight?

“Why’d you come tonight, Dabi?”

“I dunno, really. I just - I knew you were playing tonight. I felt like I needed to see you. I wanted to talk to you, I guess.”

The e-cigarette in your ex-boyfriend’s hand caught your attention. “Since when do you smoke water vapor? What happened to weed?”

Dabi looked down at his hands before replying. “I quit that shit a couple months ago,” he mumbled. “I didn’t like the way it made me feel anymore.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You stopped smoking pot? That’s great Dabi!”

“Thanks. I stopped with the pills and smack too.”

He what? “Wait, are you saying you got clean?”

He shrugged, not returning your gaze. “I guess. I stopped using four months ago. Fuyumi and my mom have gotten me into counseling. My therapist is helping me come up with ways to cope without drugs. The booze has been more difficult to quit though. I still drink pretty often. I’m...I’m working on being different. Like I always promised you I would. Except this time, I’m serious.”

The world halted for a moment for you. Dabi...was getting clean. He had promised you countless times in your relationship that he would try to stop. That he would be a better man for you. That he would stop using, get a job, go back to school. Each of those promises were empty, unfulfilled wishes.

But not anymore.

You threw your arms around Dabi, almost knocking him off the step. He stilled, not sure what to do. Should he hug you back? Push you off of him? He didn’t know, so he allowed you to continue to take the lead.

“I’m so happy for you Dabi. That is so amazing. I can��t believe it, I’m so proud.” There was a familiar warmth growing in your chest. The entire two years of your relationship, all you had wanted was for Dabi to get clean. The drugs, the directionlessness, it weighed on him. And, in turn, it began to weigh on you as well. “Have you thought about enrolling anywhere?”

You had pulled away from Dabi by now, but you were still sitting quite close to him, which made Dabi feel uneasy. He had wanted to be close to you like this for months, but now that it was happening, he felt anxious. What if after tonight, the two of you would go back to being strangers?

“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve worked on a few applications already, but I haven’t sent anything in just yet.”

Hearing that Dabi was finally getting his shit together filled your heart with joy and hope. Dabi was trying to get sober. Dabi had come to see you tonight. And you still loved him after all this time. After everything, Dabi still owned your heart.

“I need to tell you I’m sorry.” He turned to look at you. He had been looking at everything but you this entire conversation, but he needed to look you in the eye as he said this. “I need to tell you I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I fucked up so many things for you because I was a piece of shit. I’m sorry for making you leave.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Dabi looked so different now. He looked the same as he always did, yet completely unfamiliar all at once. You had spent so many months seeing Dabi kill himself every day. His eyes were sunken in, dark circles painted onto his sickly pale skin. His lips were always chapped and split open, scratching your own lips whenever he grabbed your face to kiss you. Now, underneath the bright June moonlight, Dabi looked alive. His lips were no longer dehydrated and split. His eyes were still tired, but more alert, and his skin looked healthy.

“I left for a reason, Dabi. Not just because it was too much for me, but because I thought you needed to figure everything out on your own.”

He nodded slowly while keeping your gaze. “Is it possible to try again?”

Yes, you wanted to say, absolutely. You wanted to tell him you could pick up right where the two of you left off, but you couldn’t. Not after everything he put you through. Taking a deep breath and taking his hand in yours, you said, “how about you and I go for coffee tomorrow? We can talk things out more then.”

Dabi grinned and squeezed your hand. I have a shot. Being this close to you, knowing he would see you again tomorrow, really made him want to kiss you. Six months ago, he could grab your face whenever he wanted and capture your lips with his. But he couldn’t now. He needed to take his time with you, let you decide if he was what you wanted. He had put you through hell for so long, so he needed to let you take the lead this time.

“I’d really like that.”

To his surprise. you leaned forward and pressed your lips gently to his cheek, and then stood. “I need to get back inside, but...I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

Dabi nodded furiously. “Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow morning.”

You smiled softly once more, and then turned to head back into the building. Watching you leave the night the two of you broke up made him feel like everything around him was bleak and broken. This time, as he watched you slip through the doors of the theater, he felt light things were finally a little bit brighter.

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (2/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other’s orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Since the first chapter seemed to be such a huge hit - I'm dropping this today. This was all originally supposed to be the first chapter anyway! Going forward, I'm going to try to update once a month. Thanks for reading - and I hope you enjoy! :)

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 2: Loser Like Me (Part Two) 

Kurt Hummel loves sex.  He loves the feeling of strong hands holding his body, rough lips against his skin, and a hard cock buried deep within him.  And that morning he had woken up feeling particularly horny.  He isn’t sure what exactly he had been dreaming about but his dick aches to be touched.  And luckily he shares his bed with a very hot guy who doesn’t mind taking care of it for him.  

He and Ian have been together a little over a year now, though this moving in together thing is new and still taking time to get used to.  Sex, however, is not an adjustment they need to make.  Ian doesn’t seem to mind Kurt waking him up with a hand on his cock, desperate to be fucked.  Ian might be a little slow to wake, but not long after they start, Ian’s already pulling Kurt to a quick orgasm; Kurt spilling all over Ian’s fist as Ian pumps his hips into Kurt from behind.  

The thing is, as much as Kurt loves sex, he’s not one to draw it out.  Kurt finds himself holding steady onto the bed frame, staring at the wallpaper, as Ian takes his time fucking him.  And the wallpaper is incredibly ugly.  Seriously.  He knows that Ian isn’t the one to have picked it out, but it’s a striped puke-green, burnt-orange, and tacky-gold, left over, most likely, from a renovation to the old building from the sixties.  It’s a travesty that it’s remained on the wall so long, and if Ian would just fucking come already, he wouldn’t be forced to stare at it for so long.  

Kurt fucks his hips back a little, hoping that Ian will pick up the pace.  He leans back for a kiss (that wallpaper is seared forever in his head, god) and gives out a little moan.  It’s a tiny bit performative, but it seems to do the trick, and Ian’s hips finally begin to snap, pushing him to his own orgasm.  

“Fuck, Kurt, I could wake up this way every day for forever,” Ian says, sucking a kiss to his shoulder.  

The word ‘forever’ echoes in Kurt’s brain uncomfortably.  Kurt turns in Ian’s arms, quieting him with a kiss.  “Happy to oblige.”

Ian goes in to deepen the kiss, but Kurt pulls away.  Now that he’s feeling a bit satisfied, he wants nothing more than to take a shower and get ready for the day.  He’s got about a thousand things to do, and he’s eager to get started.  Ian tries to keep him close -- he’s always wanting to make out after sex -- but Kurt manages to slip out of Ian’s light grasp.  

“Shower time,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

“Mmm, let me join you.”

The thought suddenly makes Kurt twitch but he tries not to show it.  What is wrong with him? His incredibly handsome boyfriend, with his disheveled dark hair and playfully pleading light eyes wants to join him in the shower for a possible part two of morning sexy times.  But having Ian shoved in next to him in their tiny shower stall makes him feel claustrophobic.  

He pushes past his discomfort to allow Ian to join him.  He even gives in to a little light making-out.  But there’s no way sex is happening in that bathroom.  

They do their morning routine together, bumping into each other in the tiny bathroom.  The sink is covered in bottles and sprays, creams and soaps, razors and combs, and they have to reach over each other to grab what they need.  Kurt is normally a very organized person, and when he moved in, he took the time to organize a side for each of them. But since then, Ian’s stuff has slowly migrated over to his side, and Ian’s slowly been using the products on Kurt’s side.  And mostly, he’d be fine with the sharing if things would just keep their place.  However, he doesn’t say anything, enjoying Ian’s good mood.  

Ian suggests breakfast, wanting to go to the little bagel shop a few blocks down.  He asks Kurt to walk with him but, just wanting a few minutes to check his emails alone, he declines.  Ian throws a look of disappointment but heads out, stating he’ll bring Kurt something back.  Kurt tries not to feel guilty about it, and reminds himself that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a few minutes to yourself.  Besides, Ian’s still excited that they’re living together.  He’ll calm down.  Surely.   Right?  

Ian being gone gives Kurt a few minutes to pick up the apartment.  There are clothes discarded in the living room, where they had been left after starting sex on the couch the night before.  There’s an old pizza box sitting on the coffee table, a few mugs with half-drunk tea, and a scattering of papers.  And underneath a pile of Ian’s sheet music is the mail from the previous week, most of which is Kurt’s.  He clenches his jaw as he goes through it, annoyed that he’s just now seeing it.  

There are a couple of old bills in here that need to be paid, as well as a bright red envelope that looks like an invitation sent from McKinley High.  He looks over the invitation with curiosity, though something else quickly catches his eye.  It’s a jewelry catalogue sent to Ian.  Specifically, a men’s jewelry catalogue.  And Ian doesn’t wear jewelry.  Highly suspect of it, he looks it over, and a growing anxiety starts to spread.  This could not possibly mean…

The door slams shut and Kurt jumps from his spot on the couch.  It’s just Ian home from the bagel shop.  

“I got your favorite, multigrain with that fancy whipped cream cheese that you like,” Ian says.  He hands him the bag and gives him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to him.  

“You didn’t give me my mail,” Kurt grumbles, taking the bag.  Then adds a quiet, “thank you.”  

Ian shrugs it off.  “I figured you’d see it eventually.  I’ve been wondering when you’d open that red envelope.  I wanna know what it is.”

“Oh,” Kurt places the bag with his breakfast on the coffee table and picks up the envelope from his lap, opening it.  He gives it a fond smile.  “I guess my old choir director is retiring.  There’s a party for him back in Lima.”  

“Well, that’s cool,” Ian says, grabbing the invitation out of his hand.  “Quaint.  I’m guessing you aren’t going?  I mean, other than mentioning your dad, I’ve never heard you talk about your time in Ohio.  Hell, I’ve never even heard early New York stories.  All I know is one day you walked into my piano bar, a full grown man, mysterious and sexy.”  Ian wiggles his eyebrows.  “Hard to imagine you in high school.”  

“Well, I can assure you I was anything but sexy,” Kurt says.  A flash of a memory crosses his brain - one of a performance in a warehouse, lots of boys in blazers, and a really uncomfortable situation for young Kurt.  He shakes his head, ridding his mind of it.  

“So, are you going to go?” Ian asks, far more interested in the idea than Kurt is.  

Kurt scrunches his nose at the thought.  He hasn’t stepped foot in Ohio for a better part of a decade.  There aren’t even people from high school he still talks to, not on a regular basis anyway.  It’s sweet of Will Schuester’s family to think of him, but maybe he’s better off sending a card or something.  

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, he stares at the invitation, unsure of how he feels about it.  “I don’t know.”

***

Wednesdays mean that Ian is home all day.  He is a classical pianist by trade and his day job is playing with one of New York’s symphony orchestras.  In the evenings, he usually plays gigs at local bars.  But on Wednesday, he has time off from both jobs to be home all day.  Wednesday used to be the day where Kurt spent all his time with Ian.  Now that they live together, Kurt usually spends his Wednesday anywhere but home.  

It usually lands him at his own job, running a small theater that he co-owns with his old friend, Elliott Gilbert.  Technically, Elliott’s rich grandmother’s money bought the theater, and Kurt had been brought on to manage the projects and productions that happened there.  It’s still quite a work in progress, as the building had been nearly condemned when they originally bought it a few years earlier.  But with all their hard work, they’re beginning to draw in better productions, and this might be the first year they actually draw a profit.  

When he gets in that afternoon, he finds Elliott up in the rafters, working on some of the lights.  Kurt watches for a moment as Elliott finishes whatever he’s working on.  It’s hard to say, but he has the toolbox with him, so Kurt can only guess it has to do with the lights nearly coming down the other night.  They really need to get an electrician in, but Elliott’s pretty handy about these things, and will at least try to do what he can before they have to ask for help.  

Kurt watches a good few minutes as Elliott finishes up and comes down the ladder.  

“You’re being quiet,” Elliott says, carefully bringing down the toolbox as he reaches the bottom of the ladder.  Kurt, hands in pockets, just gives a gentle shrug.  “You’re not usually quiet, which means it can only be one of a few things.  Something’s up with your dad.  You want a favor.  Or it’s boyfriend problems.”

“Well, my dad is fine, and I don’t need anything,” Kurt says.  “So….”

Elliott lets out a heavy sigh, and places the toolbox on the ground.  “It wouldn’t kill you to go to therapy, you know.”

“You’re not my therapist?”

“Alright, so this session is going to cost you three-hundred dollars,” Elliott looks at his watch.  “You have twenty minutes.  Go.”

Kurt lets out a laugh as he follows Elliott to the edge of the stage.  Elliott jumps off but Kurt lowers himself to sit on the edge, his legs hanging off.  Elliott makes a shrug for Kurt to get on with it.  

“So, I was going through some mail, and I found this jewelry catalogue.  It had a lot of men’s engagement rings,” Kurt says.  Elliott makes a face as if to say ‘and…?’  Kurt purses his lips.  “I think Ian might ask me to marry him.”  

“Have you guys even talked about marriage?”

“Definitely not.”  

Elliott doesn’t seem at all convinced.  “Maybe it was just an ad then.  I get shit like that all the time.  I somehow managed to be subscribed to a women’s lingerie catalogue for years.”  

Kurt still can’t rid himself of the low-level anxiety he’s been feeling about it all day.  “Even so, I just… don’t like the idea.”  

“I thought you and Ian were doing great?”

“We are, we are,” Kurt says.  Elliott, again, doesn’t seem convinced.  “Ian’s in the honeymoon stage of wanting to do everything together, and I don’t know.  We’ve been together for a year.  We know how we are.  Do we really need to do everything together now that we live together?”  

Elliott folds his arms across his chest.  “Kurt, if this is becoming an issue, why did you agree to move in with him in the first place?”

Kurt stares up at the ceilings.  The old, red curtains have a few fringes and tears, and Kurt wonders vaguely, if they should get new ones or if anyone would really notice.  He kicks the stage lightly as he avoids Elliott’s question.  “I mean, my apartment lease was up, and they were going to double my rent.”  

“Oh, god,” Elliott chokes out.  “Please tell me that wasn’t the only reason.”  

“It’s not,” his voice squeaks a little too much on the words.  “I also, you know, love him.”  

Elliott shakes his head.  Kurt knows judgment when he sees it.  “This is just classic Kurt,” he says.  

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with having an adjustment period with having to live with someone after I’ve had my own place for so long,” Kurt says, defending himself.  

“Uh-huh.”

“I just like my independence.”

Elliott’s eyebrow is arched high.  “Or you like sabotaging your relationships.”

Kurt scoffs, looking off to the side of the stage.  They’re going to need to scrub this whole place down before allowing anyone to do a production here again.  Elliott, however, is not letting him off the hook, and eyes him hard.  “I do not do that.”

“Then why have I seen you more in the past couple of weeks than you’ve probably seen him?”

It’s a fair question, Kurt admits to himself.  “Well, I do find you tolerable.”  

“Kurt, you don’t find any of your boyfriends tolerable,” Elliott says.  He almost sounds annoyed, but he knows Elliott’s limits and he knows he hasn’t reached them.  But truth be told, he’s as sick of himself as Elliott probably is.  “Who was that guy before Ian? That Matt guy? Why did you break up with him?”

He picked the scab, of course Elliott is going to rip open the old wounds.  “Because he wanted me to be ‘a part of the family’,” Kurt replies, using air quotes to highlight his point.  Matt had been a sweet guy, but his family had been his life.  He hadn’t been ready to be a part of any family, let alone one that had been as close as Matt’s had been.  He felt as if he had been suffocating every time they went to visit.  “His family was crazy.  I didn’t need to be a part of that.”  

Elliott nods, continuing on.  “Okay, and Joey was the one before that.  I remember him because he helped clean up this place when we bought it.”  

Kurt bites his lip.  He did feel bad about that.  Joey had been so quick to offer his time.  But Joey also had been there.  All the time.  It had been too much.  “He was super clingy,” Kurt says quietly, though he hates that he’s seeing the trend.

“Sure he was,” Elliott says.  A grin slips onto his lips.  “And then there was Steven.”  

“He wanted to marry me six months into the relationship,” Kurt says.  He snaps a little too loud, his voice echoing in the empty theater.  Elliott remains amused, even if Kurt is not.  “Who knows they want to get married six months into a relationship?  Why are you getting on my case about this?  It’s not like you don’t go through, like, three guys a week.”  

Elliott throws his head back in a laugh.  “Well, I am at peace with my slutty ways.  Look, Kurt, it’s not about the number of guys you go through.   It’s just that, well, honestly, I’ve known you forever.  And I know you’re this old school romantic and the slutty ways will never be satisfying for you.  Did it ever occur to you that the reason it doesn’t work out with these guys is not because you’re this progressive independent, but because deep down you want to be an old school married, and haven’t found the right person to be with yet?”

The gnawing pit in his stomach starts to fade as he thinks about the old fantasy -- the one he had as a kid, where you met your prince, and you lived happily ever after.  Only, real life doesn’t happen like that.  Most guys are not princes, and the ones who are don’t always lead to happily ever after.  He knows better than to be unrealistic, but maybe he’s pushing people too far away.  

“Do you think I’ve made a mistake?” Kurt asks, he begins bouncing his foot against the stage again.  

Elliott goes soft in deposition.  “You know I can’t answer that for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Kurt says.  He thinks of Ian - of his kind smile and good heart.   He shouldn’t be running, even if every ounce of him feels like it’s too much.  “Ian is a good guy, and I’ve been…”

“Difficult?”

“I was going to say myself, but thank you.”

“I do my best.” Elliott playfully taps his knee.  “If you want, though, you can crash at my place for a few days.  I’m gonna be out of town.  Some third cousin is getting married, and Mom insists that everyone be there.”

“No, I’m good,” Kurt insists.  And then an idea hits him.  “You know, I got an invitation to go back to Lima.  Old high school choir thing.  Maybe I’ll take a long vacation and do that.  It could give me some time to clear my head -- reflect on my questionable life choices.”  

Elliott gives a hearty laugh.  “You haven’t talked about Lima in years.  Besides, going back to Lima might force you to dig into your past, and we all know how much you enjoy doing that.”

Kurt swats at Elliott.  “It’ll be fine.  What’s the worst that can happen?”

***

After work, Kurt doesn’t go home right away.  Instead, he opts to walk around the city for a while.  There’s a slight chill, causing him to bundle his jacket a little tighter, and the sky is overcast, threatening a storm rolling in.  He won’t be out too late, but he knows Ian is back home waiting for him and he’s just not ready for it yet.  

His conversation with Elliott plays over in his head.  He does like his independence.  He always has.  Even when he had been a little boy, his parents had let him play on his own.  And after years of rejection from kids his own age, he learned that sometimes being on your own is your best bet.  It’s not that he doesn’t like the company his boyfriends have brought him over the years.  He just likes his space. And his peace and quiet. And his room to move about as he pleases.  And sometimes boyfriends make him feel too tied down.  

But he can’t help but think about what Elliott had said.  The thing that seems to stick in his brain, wiggling to the forefront of his thoughts.  Maybe he wants to be an old married? Maybe he does want that connection, that one person who seems to know him, who understands him enough that there will be days when they’re inseparable, and days when they’re apart.  He likes the idea of coming home to the same face every day to see someone who can read him like a book, who will enjoy the same things as him, who will love him for the insufferable human being he always seems to be.  

But are there really people out there like that?  

Maybe he’s not giving Ian enough credit.  When they had decided to move in together, Kurt thought it had been the most optimal choice.  Living costs would come down.  He’d have a partner to spend his time with.  And the sex.  God, Ian knows how to have sex.  

But permanently?  The buzz of anxiety begins to grow at the thought.  There are too many little things about Ian, too many things about himself that just don’t feel right.  It’s not perfect.  Well -- it’s never going to be perfect, he argues with himself.  But still…  

The storm breaks sooner than Kurt expects, a sudden heavy rain coming down.  Kurt stands on the street corner, looking up at the sky as he gets drenched.  Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something, and he can’t help but laugh as the rain splashes his face.  

Just as he’s about to head home, however, he catches a sign on the corner of a building.  A sign advertising an open leasing on a loft, with a number attached.  For a moment, he’s transferred back in time to all those years ago, when he lived in a loft in Bushwick with four other people all of whom had been trying to make it in the city.  He hasn’t thought about that loft in ages.  Hasn’t thought about those people in ages.  God, what even happened to…  

He tries hard not to think of the name that first pops in his head.  But he can’t help but see the face.  He shakes his head, as if attempting to get rid of the image.  

Nostalgia hits him just then.  

Nostalgia for a place he left long ago, for people whom he never thought he’d miss.  He is going to take that trip to Lima.  He does need a break from Ian.  He does need to get his life sorted out.  But mostly, he feels a soft ache for returning home -- even if he’s not sure where that is anymore.  

***

A week later, Kurt finds himself rolling up to one of Lima’s three motels in a car he rented at the airport.  It’s strange coming back to the city he grew up in and, yet, not returning back to his childhood home.  He had thought about driving past, but he hadn’t necessarily wanted to see through the window to see whatever happy suburban family had bought the place.  Instead, he had driven straight to the motel that he had booked himself the moment he knew he would be coming back.  

There is something surreal about returning to the place you grew up after so much time has passed.  It’s like time has frozen, remaining exactly the same as the moment you left, even if there are new storefronts in the old buildings, expansions where wooded areas used to be, and a real attempt, it seems, to clean the place up.  It feels unchanged, and Kurt can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.  It’s just a thing.  

It’s evening by the time he gets in.  The motel room is bland and tiny, and the four channels on the TV don’t offer much entertainment.  He lays down on the bed to stare at the ceiling, thinking if there’s anything he could do.  Most places in Lima shut down before eight, even on a Friday night.  And it’s not like he has anyone to call. He had been texting Mercedes Jones earlier in the week, shocked that her number had still been the same, but she had explained that she wouldn’t be getting in until very late and implied that whatever plans she had wouldn’t be with him.  He had understood, and it’s not like he won’t be seeing her the next day anyway.  Scrolling through his phone, he finds that he doesn’t have a single other contact from high school he could call.  

Maybe he should just text Ian -- but as his thumb hovers over his boyfriend’s name, he remembers that Ian is probably playing a concert that weekend. And even if he waits until later when Ian’s home, he just doesn’t want to ruin Ian’s good time by explaining that he can’t quite quash the crushing sense of loneliness that seems to be his homecoming.  

Why did he think this would be a good idea?

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a neon flashing light, and through the window he sees a building that he hasn’t thought about in years.  Thinking anywhere is better than being stuck in that sad motel room for the next twelve hours, Kurt heads out into the night.  

***

Scandals is, if nothing else, exactly how he remembers it.  Not that his memories are anything more than fuzzy blips of moments from long ago.  He remembers the same posters being on the wall, in the same tattered state.  He remembers the huge, neon signs lining the walls.  And god, the music even feels strikingly similar.  There aren’t, he thinks with a laugh, any drag queens though.  

The atmosphere is quiet for a Friday night.  There are a few guys out on the dance floor, enjoying each other’s company, but most of the people in the bar are huddled in the darkened corners.  No one looks up from their conversations to notice him come in.  The bouncer is too busy flirting with a denim dressed, bearded guy leaning against the wall to notice him slip by.  

He’s not a few steps in when he realizes coming out to a bar seems like a silly thing to do, but makes a deal with himself to have one drink before he heads back to the motel and to do the sensible thing in calling Ian.  

But as he heads to the bar, he sees something that makes him freeze in his tracks.  

Is that…?

It can’t possibly be…?

Blaine Anderson is sitting at the bar, casually chatting with the bartender as he sips a beer.  Kurt is stunned to see him, his mind reeling at how this is even possible.  There is only one gay bar in Lima.  And he’s probably here for the reunion.  

But still… Blaine Anderson, of all people.  

There’s a tiny part of him that wants to run.  Turn on his heel and walk right back out of that bar and not even worry about the formal meeting they’ll inevitably have tomorrow at the reunion.  He doesn’t though.  

He watches Blaine for a moment, in his element, throwing his head back to laugh at something the bartender said.  It’s astounding to Kurt at how much and how little Blaine has changed.  Age, it seems, has done him well.  There’s less gel in his hair, allowing the natural curls to reveal themselves.  His face is harder, jawbone more defined. He’s wearing a dark sweater vest, but no bowtie, and the shirt underneath is unbutton, revealing a wisp of hair on his chest.  Blaine is no longer that young boy he once knew.  Sitting at the bar is a man.  

And yet… his movements are exactly the same.  The way he crinkles his eyes when he laughs, the way he lightly touches the bartender’s arm while expressing his point, the way casually plays with the napkin on the counter.  That’s still the Blaine he used to know.  

Kurt takes a deep breath, releasing the tension running through him.  He could leave… but he doesn’t really want to.  It’s been a decade since they’ve seen each other.  That’s enough time to let old wounds heal, right?

Kurt takes the plunge.

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

Blaine turns around, utterly shocked to see him there.  Kurt’s confidence slips as the silence lingers.  Maybe this had been a bad idea.  But then, Blaine breaks out into a grin.  

“Kurt?” He says his name slowly, as if it’s unfamiliar in a way, but easily slides off his stool, going in for a hug.  It’s awkward -- where do you put your hands and arms? How close do you stand? How do you properly greet someone you once agreed to share your life with?  Someone who is a relative stranger now.  It’s bizarre to him that somehow, Blaine still feels so familiar in his arms. “Please, join me.” Blaine offers the stool next to him as they slip apart.  “I’ll definitely take you up on that drink.”

Kurt sits down, suddenly feeling much more nervous than he had been.  Blaine waives down the bartender -- asking for beer, while Kurt shortly asks for an amaretto sour.  He definitely needs something to calm him down.  How is Blaine being so calm? Is he hiding it better? Or is it that he’s soon to be on his third beer?

“So, what are you doing here?” Blaine asks, placing his head on his hand, now looking amused.  There’s no anger there. No resentment, or negativity.  Blaine genuinely seems to be happy to see him.  Based on how they had left things all that time ago, Blaine could have harbored some ill will towards him.  But they are both adults now.  And it had been a long, long time ago.  

“I’m in town for Mr. Schue’s retirement party,” Kurt says.  He rubs his legs, not sure what to do with his hands.

Blaine nods, finishing off the beer he had been drinking when Kurt had arrived.  “Oh, yeah, I figured that.  I meant, what are you doing here ?” He uses both hands to point down.  

“Oh!” Kurt feels a little silly not understanding.  Thankfully, the bartender brings them their drinks.  Kurt wastes no time gulping half of it down as if it were a shot.  “I saw it from the motel window.  Call me crazy, but I was feeling nostalgic.”

“Huh,” Blaine takes a long sip from his bottle, narrowing his eyes as he thinks it over.  “You’re not staying with Burt?”

“Oh, god, right you wouldn’t know,” Kurt laughs as he stirs his drink.  “Dad retired a few years ago.  He and Carole moved to Arizona to be closer to her sister.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“I guess I could have stayed with Uncle Andy,” Kurt continues, remaining fixated on his drink as he talks.  “He and his sons took over the tire shop.  But we’re not exactly close.  And he has, like, ten dogs.  I’d rather take my chances with the motel.”

Blaine nods, sympathetically.  

“What about you?” Kurt asks.  “How’s your family?”

“They’re pretty good,” Blaine says, easily.  “Cooper has three little girls.  Here, let me show you.”  Blaine wastes no time fishing out his phone, scrolling through the roll for a picture of three gorgeous young girls who all, clearly, take after Cooper.  Kurt coos accordingly but he can’t help but notice Blaine’s left hand, and the indentation of skin where a ring used to be.  It makes him wonder.

“So, what are you doing now?” Kurt asks, trying to relax on his stool.  He rests his elbow on the wooden bar, and his head on his hand.

“I teach, actually.  New York Institute of Fine Arts,” Blaine says, taking another sip of his beer with a laugh.  “I mean, I still perform every now and then.  But an adjunct professor was needed, and a friend of mine pulled some strings, and I just kind of fell into it.  I love it though.”  There’s no lie in Blaine’s voice.  Blaine had always been a passionate person, but it’s clear by his demeanor that he loves his job.  

Kurt smiles meekly, happy for him.  “A private school, of course.  How very you.  Actually, now that I think of it, that’s not far from my theater.”

“You have a theater?” Blaine’s eyes grow wide with interest.  

“Well, half a theater,” Kurt rocks his head from side to side, as if it’s a silly little thing, and not the pride and joy that he’s sunk most of his adult life into, now.  He plays with the nearby peanut bowl.  “The Gilbert Theater.”

“Oh, I know that place,” Blaine says.  There’s excitement in his voice.  Kurt isn’t sure why this makes him happy.    “I thought it had been condemned.  I mean - I’m sure you’ve fixed it up.”

“Oh we have,” Kurt says, thinking about all the work he’s put into it over the years.  “Elliott and I renovated it.  You wouldn’t even recognize it now.”

Blaine takes another slow slip of his drink.  “Elliott?  Like from college?” Kurt nods slowly. “Ah. So are you guys…”

“Oh, no,” Kurt quickly corrects.   “God, no.  Business partners only.”  It’s such a funny thought to him.  Elliott.  They’re like brothers.  No, he’s definitely not romantically linked with Elliott.  There is someone else… but he quickly pushes Ian out of his brain.  He doesn’t want to think about him. “So this is crazy, right? That we both ended up in the same sleazy place?  Maybe the universe was trying to push us together again.”

Blaine gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, there is only one gay bar in Lima, but I suppose…”

An awkward silence grows between them.  Blaine bops his head to the music.  Kurt munches on some peanuts.  They both avoid direct eye contact.  The uneasiness that Kurt had felt when he first walked in begins to return.  Maybe he should go.  

The bartender breaks the silence, asking Blaine if he’d like another drink.  There’s an ease there that Kurt picks up on.  Blaine knows the guy -- like really knows the guy.  Kurt shifts from side to side not sure what to say or do.  He eyes the door, he can still slip out if he needs to.  

“Man, I cannot believe how little this place has changed since I used to come here,” Blaine says, taking a look around.  

“You mean when we were in high school?” Kurt asks.  He’d hardly say coming the three times that they did a lot.  

“No, it was actually after…” he trails off but Kurt picks up on what he’s saying.  After they broke up.  After he broke Blaine’s heart.  Blaine kind of skips past the beat.  Why dredge up all that old stuff.  That’s what the reunion is for, right? Something turns in the pit of Kurt’s stomach.  “When I moved back to Lima, I used to come here a lot.  Thought maybe throwing myself into this place might make me feel better.  Not so alone, you know?”

“Did it help?” Kurt’s voice is small.  

“Maybe,” Blaine says with another laugh.  “I don’t know, it was so long ago.  You know it…” he pauses, thinking it over.  “Alright, if I tell you something - do you promise not to run screaming?”

Kurt’s intrigued.  “Of course.”

Blaine stares intently at his bottle.  “After you and I ended things -- I came back to Lima.  And I sorta, kinda dated Dave Karofsky for a while.”

Of all the things that Blaine could have said -- that is the last thing Kurt expects to hear.  It makes Kurt chuckle into his drink.  He can’t even picture it, it’s such a wild thought.  “Wait, seriously?”

“Shocking, right?”

“A little.  More so that you were into a bear.”

The tension breaks as they let go into easy laughter.  The conversation becomes lighter as they begin to discuss old things.  They talk about Dave Karofsky, and how someone who had once been Kurt’s ghost had turned into a friend whom Kurt sees every few years for lunch.  Blaine mentions he had attended Dave’s wedding.  Kurt mentions he had lunch with Dave and his husband last year.  It’s strange how things can change so much in twenty years.  

They talk about Dalton -- though not about that staircase.  The staircase that will forever be burned in his memory for better or worse.  Instead, they talk about Sebastian Smythe with fondness, though neither could say where he ended up. And about the one time Blaine sang at the Gap to impress a guy whose name neither can remember.  

And for a moment, unprovoked, Blaine mentions his husband.  It’s a startling jolt into reality, but Blaine doesn’t give him any more than a name and a passing story about having to explain to his husband why he refuses to shop at The Gap.  It’s not like Kurt hadn’t heard Blaine had gotten married.  He doesn't remember who had told him or when or even how he had felt about it.  Blaine had wanted to be married.  He got his wish.  And Kurt is happy for him.  He wants to be happy for him.  Still, that missing ring…

As they reminisce, the bartender brings them more drinks.  The room begins to feel warm and familiar.  Kurt isn’t sure if it’s alcohol or Blaine that is making him feel so comfortable so far from home.  They talk about high school and old friends, people whom they’ve lost touch with and people they’re looking forward to seeing tomorrow.  Kurt learns that Blaine developed a surprisingly deep friendship with Santana Lopez.  Blaine learns that Kurt hasn’t talked to Rachel Berry since college.

“I just couldn’t after that show,” Kurt explains.  They’re both giggly from drinking too much - Kurt having to hold his hands up when the bartender offers him a third.  “I mean - not that she even tried to keep in touch with me.  But my god did you watch that thing? It was terrible! She was fine - she was always fine.  But who decided that would be what America wanted to see for a decade?”

Blaine snickers into his drink.  “Well, personally I was offended.  ‘Slaine’,” he uses both hands to make air quotes around the character’s names, “was written out after year two.  I was like ‘fuck that’.  It’s just as well.  Had he stayed on, I might have had to sue their asses for defamation of character.”

“You are not wrong,” Kurt says, unable to stop laughing as he thinks about it.  He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to balance himself so as to not fall off his stool.  

Blaine notices and smirks.  “How drunk are you right now?”

“Less drunk than you are,” Kurt smiles into his glass.  He is buzzed but not at all drunk.  In fact, he feels good and relaxed and happy.  When had he last been this happy?  “Anyway… All I know is that a terrible writer wrote ‘Cert’ as the sassy yet sexless gay best friend.  And he stayed on the show.  The. Entire. Run.  If anyone has the right to sue, it’s going to be me.”  

“Well, for what it’s worth.  I don’t think Cert was anything like you,” Blaine says.  He leans in close.  Kurt can smell the sweet scent of raspberries.   “Personally, I thought you were always sexy.”

Something in the atmosphere shifts.  Suddenly, Blaine is close.  Close enough that he can see the depths of Blaine’s golden eyes.  There’s something there that Kurt hasn’t seen in a long time, and it causes him to break.  

He’s not sure what it is that makes him say it.  He’s not sure if it’s the heaviness of guilt, or the friendliness of Blaine’s demeanor, or the fact that all of this nostalgia is causing him to reflect on his life’s choices - but he can’t help but let the words stumble out.  “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”  

Blaine looks at him, genuinely confused.  “For what?

“For a lot of things, I feel like I owe you an apology for so many things,” Kurt rambles on.  “I was not in a good place and you… I shouldn’t have ended it.  I mean I shouldn’t have ended it the way that I did.  I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.  And I’m sorry that I did.”

Blaine takes a moment to think it over, as if he’s processing everything Kurt’s saying.  “Kurt…” he lets out a sigh. “You weren’t the only one who was a mess back then.  You don’t have anything to be sorry about.  We had a good thing.  We had a great thing, even.  But it’s fine.  It’s all in the past, and I’m fine.”  

Kurt feels a bit of relief wash over him.  Maybe this is why he needed to come back.  Maybe he had just needed to bury his demons.  He feels lighter than he has in, well, a while.  He reaches out for Blaine’s hand and squeezes it.  It feels comforting in his own.  

“Look at us now, all grown up,” Kurt says, a smile sliding across his face.  “I mean, you’re married and I’m…”

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s an open marriage.”

Blaine places his free hand just above Kurt’s knee and squeezes, ever so lightly, he holds it there, stroking his thumb along the side of his thigh.  It’s an invitation.  His cock gets there first, as he watches Blaine’s hand, firm and strong.  His brain becomes fuzzy, but all he can fixate on is the urge to have Blaine’s hand travel up.  This is closure, right?

“Come with me,” Kurt makes the quick decision not to second guess this.  He grabs onto Blaine’s hand with purpose, sliding off the stool and taking Blaine with him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blaine smirk as he throws out a few bills on the counter to pay for the drinks.  

***

They’re in the bathroom stall, where Kurt vaguely remembers making out once back at the end of his senior year.  They never would have done anything as daring as have sex in a public place, but just kissing, even in a place that accepted it, felt naughty and fun back then.  

Now, he couldn’t care less that there are people who might know what they’re doing.  His desire is too strong, his brain clouded in a haze of need to taste Blaine again; the wonder of if it will feel so good after so long.  The room is broken up into stalls, dimly lit, and smells as if they are the next in a long line of gay men who will use this place to relieve themselves in more ways than one.  Kurt pulls Blaine back to the farthest stall, ignoring that there’s another couple occupying another stall, the panting sounds of their fucking echoing in the room.  It only turns him on more.  

Once the stall door is locked, Blaine looks at Kurt, his large, dark eyes more sure than Kurt is about this.  It almost throws him off kilter but Kurt looks to Blaine’s mouth, and suddenly he remembers all the things that can be done with it.  His resolve broken, Kurt lunges for a kiss.  

Blaine kisses back with force, pushing Kurt back into the wall.  Kurt doesn’t even care that the metal bar for handicap use is pressing against the back of his thighs.  He just wants to feel Blaine.  They kiss deeply, wantonly.  His sense memory returns and suddenly he feels like a teenager again, hungry for Blaine back when he had been first discovering what sex is.  Kurt moans into the kiss that encourages Blaine to slide his tongue against Kurt’s.  

They’re all hands and mouths, wrapping themselves around each other as they make-out.  Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, combing his fingers through Blaine’s curls as he pulls Blaine closer to him, enough so that their bodies are sliding against each other.  Blaine brings his hands down to Kurt’s ass and squeezes with both hands.  Fuck.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten so hard so fast.  

They begin to rock against each other as they kiss.  Kurt can feel Blaine’s hard cock pushing up against his own.  If they keep going at this speed, he is not going to last long, and dammit, he refuses to come in his pants.  

Kurt breaks the kiss, only for Blaine to start kissing along his jaw and down his neck, Blaine’s touch is electric, and Kurt can’t help but feel dizzy with pleasure.  He loses himself in Blaine’s embrace, soaking up the feeling as much as he can.  It’s been fifteen years since they’ve fucked - how can this possibly feel so good?  

Blaine works his way back up to Kurt’s mouth, though this time, Kurt is able to slow it down.  Kurt busies his hands with the buttons on Blaine’s pants.  Blaine takes a slight step back, allowing for Kurt to pull him out.  Kurt takes a quick second to look down at Blaine’s cock; his thick and delicious cock.  If only they weren’t in a bathroom stall right now, Kurt would take his time devouring that cock.  Instead, he takes to stroking it, becoming satisfied with the low moans and grunts that are eliciting Blaine’s mouth.  

Blaine steadies himself against the wall, as he begins to pump his hips in time with Kurt’s strokes, fucking himself into Kurt’s hand.  “Let me,” Kurt says, in a low whisper, biting gently at Blaine’s lips before they fall into a sloppy kiss.  Blaine is close - he knows Blaine is close, he can feel it as Blaine arches further into his hand.  Kurt speeds up his hand, deliberate in his strokes.  It’s a little rough, but Blaine becomes more and more undone, uttering little obscenities as he closes eyes and allows himself the pleasure.  Blaine comes, jolting into Kurt’s hand, and lets out a moan that Kurt covers with a kiss.  

“Give me a second,” Blaine says, breathlessly, holding firmly against the wall as he comes down.  

Kurt smirks, licking the come off his fingers.  His own cock is throbbing with need but there’s something incredibly satisfying seeing Blaine loose and fucked out.  

Blaine takes a second to put himself back in his pants and then goes down on his knees.  This isn’t at all what Kurt had been expecting, and his eyes go wide as Blaine sucks a kiss over Kurt’s clothed cock.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” Kurt says, feeling a little guilty.  Blaine’s legs are sticking out of the stall door and anyone could interrupt them.  

“Shut up and let me blow you, Kurt,” Blaine says, a wicked grin on his face as he unzips Kurt’s zipper.  Kurt’s cock bobs free, and like a man allowed to drink water after years in the desert, Blaine sucks Kurt all the way down in one go.  

“Jesus, fuck Blaine.”  He really doesn’t care if there’s anyone else in there who can hear them.  Blaine had always been good at blow jobs; always so eager to give them, and Kurt’s glad to know that Blaine’s enthusiasm hasn’t changed.  Blaine sucks him down, greedily, and he loses himself in the sensation of Blaine’s velvety mouth on him.  

“I’m curious about something,” Blaine says, pulling off.  Kurt can’t imagine what, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out.  Blaine begins to stroke him, slowly, drawing it out.  Then sucks a kiss to the tip of Kurt’s cock, using his tongue to swirl and tease it, before he sucks him down once more.  Kurt lets out a heavy groan as his knees nearly buckle.  “Huh. So that really still does things for you?”

Kurt can’t help but give a little laugh.  “Shut up and finish me off, Blaine,” Kurt manages the tease despite him now being desperate to come.  

Amused, Blaine obliges, sucking Kurt into his mouth again. Kurt closes his eyes, taking it all in as he lets Blaine take him over the edge.   He spills into Blaine’s mouth, Blaine being able to swallow with ease -- something, he notes, Blaine hadn’t been able to do before.  As Blaine pulls off, he licks his lips, and remains on his knees for a long moment.  

The atmosphere then shifts suddenly.  Blaine looks down for a long while, and Kurt can’t tell what Blaine’s feeling -- Guilt? Sadness? Regret?

“Thank you for that,” Blaine says, his sincerity layered with something that feels like finality.  Blaine gives Kurt’s hip a kiss before helping put Kurt back into his jeans.  There’s something strangely intimate about it, and despite the fact that Kurt is feeling blissed out from his orgasm it’s now tinged with a heavier, unknown feeling.  Blaine gets to his feet.  There’s a lot going on behind his eyes that Kurt can’t read, but Blaine says nothing, only gives Kurt a soft kiss on the lips.  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Blaine leaves the stall but Kurt stays, unsure what to make of everything that happened.  A lot just happened.  A lot.  And as the buzz of sex begins to wear off, a sickening gnawing grows in his stomach.  He just had sex with his ex-fiancé whom he hasn’t seen in years.  He just cheated on his boyfriend.  But what makes Kurt feel the worst, as he slides down the wall to sit on the sticky floor because his legs can no longer hold him, is the realization that for Blaine - that might have been his way of saying goodbye.  

[uwumessenger]

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day

[travoltacustom]

HypMic School Headcanons Part 1: BB, FP & BAT

I genuinely enjoyed this ask! Anyways, this is being split between BB, FP and BAT with MTC, MTR and DH in the next post. Thank you for your patience!

Read under the cut for BB, FP and BAT.

ー　BUSTER BROS　ー　

Ichiro

Favourite Subject: Music

Disliked Subject: Science - Physics

Grade: Middle B

Club: Soccer

He only managed a year into highschool before he had to quit. Taking care of his brothers was his priority. It stung bitterly to see other kids his age going about their daily lives, especially when his old classmates would invite him to hang out. He just couldn’t accept the time away from his family to have a day off.

Ichiro had a decent rep at school. Everyone knew him as an otaku, but it just so happened that his friendship group was a decent size so he was never picked on because of it.

Jiro

Favourite Subject: PE

Disliked Subject: Japanese

Grade: High C / Low B

Club: Soccer

There was never a time where Jiro wasn’t popular. His kindness was shown through helping out teachers and his skill in the soccer club made him everyone’s envy. But since he was genuinely a nice kid, nobody ever acted on that jealousy. He gets about two or three confessions a month!

Highschool is the most normal of things for him. Despite his ���fans’, people still treat him normally. Right now his biggest concerns are just making it past test season, but he’s not so sure what he’ll do when it comes applying for universities.

Saburo

Favourite Subject: Maths

Disliked Subject: ICT (Computing/Tech)

Grade: High A+

Club: Science - Never actually shows up

He initially chose to take ICT for the easy grade, but now it’s way too easy for him! His teacher wants him transferred to another class because Saburo complains that he’s not learning anything - he can build a site in under an hour, and he’s pretty sure he knows way more than his teacher too.

This is the kid that keeps on saying that he should’ve been thrown ahead to high school but just doesn’t have the emotional maturity for it yet. He can’t make friends easily because he thinks he’s smarter than everyone and never cooperates during group projects despite how people are genuinely trying to connect with him.

ー　FLING POSSE　ー　

Ramuda [1]

Favourite Subject: Art

Disliked Subject: Science - Biology

Grade: Middle C

Club: Fashion

His grades would have been abysmal if not for some EXTREME sucking up to his teachers. Ramuda is also extremely squeamish so he gets antsy whenever they talked about dissection in class, and wouldn’t even think about medicines and chemical reactions because they made him nervous.

Ramuda’s eye for design made him sought out by every club to help with poster designs. Of course, Mr. Popular couldn’t say no when they were fueling his ego. At one point, there wasn’t a poster up in school that wasn’t designed by him.

Gentaro

Favourite Subject: Japanese

Disliked Subject: PE

Grade: High B / Low A

Club: Literary Society - went with his brother

He may be good at running but anything else will kill him. If you throw a ball at him he will fall over, injuring his whole body and he has to go to the nurse’s office. The nurse kept on saying that it wasn’t that bad but he would claim so many reasons as to why he shouldn’t go back and they just got fed up with him.

He could be an A student if he wanted. Gentaro was smart enough for it, but if he just needed B’s to get into the university he wanted with his brother, then it was enough.

Dice

Favourite Subject: Maths

Disliked Subject: Social Studies - History

Grade: High A+ then dropped to Middle B

Club: Track Club

He’s an Arisugawa - he had heavy expectations on him. His grades slipped when the pressure of expectations fell on him as he watched his family fight amongst themselves. It’s not that he wasn’t understanding the material, but he didn’t feel the need to try anymore.

Dice would’ve joined with delinquents... if his school had any. His group was a bunch of people who skipped class to play card games in an abandoned room. Even at a private school like this, these kids lost any sense of poise and would throw everything into their gamble.

ー　BAD ASS TEMPLE　ー　

Kuko

Favourite Subject: Social Studies - Religion

Disliked Subject: Home Economics

Grade: Low/Middle B

Club: Judo

“EVERYONE’S IN MY WAY I’M TRYING TO COOK. FUCK OFF.” Needless to say, he cannot cooperate in cooking class. Kuko can cook, like enough for himself, but he hates rubbing elbows with idiots that can’t even peel an onion without crying.

He hangs out on the school roof most days (like a shonen protagonist). Kuko’s sort of a lone wolf, but will sit down with anyone who’s actually brave enough to have lunch with him there. It’s a rag-tag group, but he wouldn’t say they were actually friends.

Jyushi

Favourite Subject: Music

Disliked Subject: Science - Biology

Grade: Middle B

Club: ‘Light’ Music Club

He’s good with lyrics so he understands poems so easily. However, sometimes it slips into his answer and the person marking his work has trouble with understanding him... he can get more poetic than the poem he’s describing.

The light music club is more of an occult club at this point. Or visual kei likers... The school wouldn’t let them have either club, so they’re together under the guise of the light music club. Jyushi was in line to be successor of the ‘Prince of Darkness’ (Club President) but he got busy with his own band stuff.

Hitoya

Favourite Subject: Science - Biology

Disliked Subject: Social Studies - Geography

Grade: High A+

Club: Jazz band. Played the guitar.

Jakurai and Hitoya formed a jazz band together, since their school wasn’t big enough for an orchestra. It wasn’t a group that could ever compete in competitions, but it was enough to just jam with their friends. Hitoya still gets together with some of the members to play around.

The teachers though of him as one of the most reliable students... which meant that he ended up as their courier. Hitoya was just too nice to say no back then, but he still feels spiteful for the teachers who sent him up so many floors back then.

NOTES

[1] Hypnosis Radio Season 1: Ramuda canonically doesn’t even know what a school is! He thinks it’s a place where people go to talk about the latest trends. He also thinks that one shouldn’t be so fixated on this school place since the world is so big

Source: https://twitter.com/hypmic_en/status/1201546133501358081

[jangmi-latte]

Hiiiii may i order a Leona Oneshot please? Where NRC holds a party, a ball perhaps, and the s/o is ready and all but her insecurity gets the best of her and instead of going straight to the party, she wanders around school grounds,,crying and leona comes around looking for her? THANK YOUUU

❞ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ❝

➻ content: a jar of flowers and an expensive gown

➻ warnings: none

➻ comments: ballroom...leona...comfort...anonie...pardon me but..i got carried away and wrote this in first pov. hope you don’t mind! and if any of you are familiar with the setting of the story, my my, cogratulations ;)

I could hear the music playing in the distance. It’s so calming, yet I knew inside that room probably holds one of the best parties NRC has ever thrown. Probably not formality wise, but maybe because it’s open for guests outside of the school. There are celebrities, some friends fellow classmates invited, and beautiful people walking around the grounds.

Everyone is so...breathtaking. 

The way they casually held their head up high, the smile they effortlessly show their smiles and still look beautiful. Am I jealous? No... Maybe?

I looked in front of the mirror. There stood just a casual looking girl. This gorgeous gown is best off wrapped around someone else’s body. Not mine. Y/n, stop it. You were invited to this ball for a reason...

What reason exactly...?

I sighed. My hand grazed on the mirror gently, like it would break just by a simple touch. To think the prince of the Afterglow Savannah would bring me here when he doesn’t like gatherings himself. Why? I just want answers. It’s already 6 in the evening and I haven’t left my room. “Y/n?” 

I looked over at the door. There stood Ruggie who looked at me in surprise. That’s right, I’m still in one of Savanclaw’s guest rooms. “The party’s already started. Let’s go. Don’t wanna let you get lost, now would we?” He gave one of his signature chuckles while I just smiled.

“I’m coming.”

The walk to the venue was...long to say the least. The sun was starting to set. The sky was painted in deep colours of violet, magenta, and blue. The sun being a small ball of yellow and red as it slowly slept for the night. Staying out here is much better, yes? I looked back in front of me, Ruggie’s already holding the door open to the room. Inside, I could see, was the men and women that joyfully danced around. Chattering and dancing with each other. 

I barely know anyone in here. I can see Vil Schoenheit being surrounded by people, probably wanting a photograph or anything. I see Sir Draconia by the corner of the room talking to a shorter man that I can’t make out who. Doesn’t he enjoy the party, perhaps? 

“Are you coming?” I blinked and looked back at Ruggie. I can’t. I really can’t be in a room full of these mind-blowing, drop-dead gorgeous and possibly rich people. I cleared my throat and smiled at Ruggie. “I-It’s okay, Ruggie. You can go on without me.” I rubbed my hands together and looked around. Where can I go besides here? “I’ll come inside later. I think I forgot something in the room,” I lied.

Ruggie arched an eyebrow, looked inside, and back at me. “Okay then. But if you got lost just call me or Leona.” I always expected him to keep a lookout for me. Probably Leona’s orders. I nodded as I watched him head inside. I haven’t seen Leona ever since I arrived at this college. Of course, he must be inside that event having to talk to pretty women.

My legs brought me anywhere far from that place. I can’t see myself standing near any of those people. Let alone walk on the same ground and breathe the same air as them. I’m merely a commoner, not that beautiful, and just someone. At least, I am someone. I was about to head inside this botanical garden when I heard a giggle of another girl inside. Yikes, this place is taken. I turned somewhere else and once I was quite far from the garden, I saw Sir Draconia with that small man heading to the garden. 

How lucky that girl is to have the Malleus Draconia talk to her. Couldn’t be me. Why am I assuming things?

I shook my head and wandered elsewhere. I don’t know where I am anymore. I could still hear the orchestra from the event but I was in front of the woods now. I think I’m lost. How stupid of me.

I took a deep breath and just sat on a log that was near a small pond. This gown has been a waste now. Why am I wearing it? Who am I to wear it? Why, I just wasted the makeup and an expensive gown. Cruel of me. I’m sorry. I removed the pins and ties that was holding my hair up. I want this night to be over. The moon is now shining brightly above me as I looked down at the reflection of myself on the pond. 

Is this face supposed to be in a crowd of beautiful people? Disgrace. I know I’m not pretty. I’m not worth admiring. Yet why am I here? The pond rippled under me. Was it going to rain?

Oh wait, that’s just me.

My hand went up to touch my cheek as I sniffled. Pathetic little girl, are you? No one can see me, good. Let this place be a secret where a stupid girl cried all alone. Why? Because she’s ugly. That’s the truth.

“I don’t like the fact you made me walk around the school just to look for you.”

I snapped my head over to look at whoever talked behind me. To my surprise, there, I see the second prince of the Afterglow Savannah looking at me. The moon illuminated his features beautifully. The suit he’s wearing isn’t exactly as prim as it should be. Three unbuttoned top buttons, the black blazer he wore doesn’t look ironed to me, his hair tied into a side ponytail and a hand in his pocket. Handsome, yes. 

I looked away and wiped my tears. Damn it, y/n. Do you know how miserable you look in front of a prince? “Glad to see you’re not inside that stupid party. Spared me the noise,” he continued as I heard him coming closer to me. I kept my head down, keeping my sniffles low as I wondered. Did he really make an effort to look for me?

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sounding unintentionally shaky as I feel the tears starting to prick  my eyes again. It was quiet. I never looked up from gazing on my lap. It feels wrong having to look at Leona when I look this pathetic. I heard him ‘tsk’ before I sensed his presence in front of me. 

His fingers went under my chin, pushing it upwards so I would face him. Ugh, the embarrassment. My nose and eyes are probably red by now. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I couldn’t accept the fact that I feel so... I don’t know...

“Why are you crying? You look miserable,” he remarked.

“I know...” I mumbled. I can’t look at his face. My eyes are closed and yet I could feel his gaze at me. 

“Damn, you’re a pain in the neck,” he grumbled and flicked my forehead making me wince. Not really painful, just made me rub my forehead as I looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. He was just looking at me as if not knowing what to do. 

“Why aren’t you at the party?” I sparked a conversation, still wanting answers unto why he’s here in front of me instead of being with the others. I know he hates gathering but he could’ve just went back to the dorm. “It’s unsightly if I let a guest I invited be left alone. Didn’t you think of that, herbivore?” he commented.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“You didn’t ask anything...” I trailed off as he rolled his eyes and sat on the log next to me. “Why were you crying out here all alone?” he grumbled and crossed his arms, laying his back on the tree behind us with his arms crossed. “Nothing...” I mumbled.

“I’m being serious here.” His sharp emerald eyes glared at me. I know he’s trying to help without having to look like a big softy. I’m glad to have him around, however, I can’t help but just be bothered by these thoughts that kept swallowing me whole. I ended up not speaking as I looked back down.

“Y/n.”

I hummed, still not looking at him. How do I exactly respond to that? Blurting out and just saying I’m insecure is awkward, isn’t it? I rubbed my hands together, letting my fingers intertwined with each other as I felt the atmosphere frow intense. He must be asleep now. 

How wrong was I when I looked over at him. Please don’t just stare at me and say something, Leona. “What...?” I stuttered out. He gave me no response. I hate this atmosphere. I pushed on his shoulder, making him yelp in surprise before I scooted over to the edge of the log and turned my back against him.

“You blasted herbivore,” he huffed as I looked over my shoulder. He’s not mad at all. I’ve known this bastard for years. “You suck at comforting!” I said and glared at him. He rolled his eyes and stretched his legs, commenting, “I’m not here to comfort you, idiot.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To get away from the party.”

“Then go back to your dorm.”

“It’s boring.”

“You just it’s unsightly for you to leave me alone.”

“Are you always this talkative?”

Damn you, Leona Kingscholar! I exhaled through my nose and stood up from the log. Fine then. I’m leaving your ass out here. I marched around him, making sure my gown hits his face before I felt his hand grip my arm and pull me down. The hell does he want now?!

“You were just crying minutes ago. Why are you smiling now?” he smirked. I folded my lips after realizing and feeling the edge of my lips stretch out. Y/n, what’s wrong with you? 

“Either way. You’re not leaving me here. You only get to leave after I’ve taken my nap.” He yawned while I frowned. 

“I’m not gonna sit here and let you sleep.”

“Then tell me why you were crying.”

“Because I didn’t feel pretty, dumbass,” I blurted out and sucked my lower lip. His beautiful green eyes somehow softened, or am I hallucinating? If this is the only way I could open up about myself, then so be it. Not like he would even care right? At least I have him to be with me.

“And who told you that?” he grumbled, his arm just laying limp around my waist while he laid his head back on the tree. “Me.”

“That’s just your opinion.”

“Better start judging myself rather than have other people whisper about me...” I sighed. I really am talkative.

“Have other people even seen you? No. I don’t think so. You didn’t even go inside. How can you guarantee they would call you ugly?” 

“Because I am. All of them are pretty. Men and women alike.”

“Pretty on the outside, a bastard on the inside,” Leona remarked and closed his eyes. “If only you...” he yawned and continued, “...heard how chatty they are. All they care about are gossips.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Do you think I would come to you if you’re the same? No. Now shut up and let me sleep.” he grumbled as I laid my back on his chest. His words processed deeply in my mind. Sure it wasn’t direct. He might’ve had a different meaning to what he was saying. Leona Kingscholar isn’t one to comfort you after all, but he could give one of the greatest words your mind can process.

He came to me instead of staying in that party. He looked for me. He didn’t let me leave. Kingscholar, you surely are something else. This time, I didn’t stop the smile to stretch on my lips as I looked up at the slumbering lion. You truly are something else. I’m glad to have you by my side.

I guess this night isn’t a waste after all. I stretched my neck and looked back at the pound. There, in my reflection, is a woman who may not see herself as beautiful. But is still reminded as beautiful in the inside. It’s not the looks, it’s the personality, y/n.

Remember that.

[kishimoto-did-us-dirty]

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

[hellstenglow]

Hogwarts AU

Anyway, here where I (me and my personal opinion) will sort the Hargreeves in the classical Hogwarts houses. Shippy headcanons (mention of fiveya and alluther, if you don’t like, don’t click) and scenarios included, because my brain can’t help it. I also think I want to write this into a fanfiction, but I have not the time and I am not confident enough in my skill at the moment? Yeah, I just vomit a lot of words. 

Five – Ravenclaw. People would put him in Slytherin because he can be ruthless, but I see his clever brain being his prominent feature. He loves knowledge, he just focuses on what he loves the most of course (math, physics in real world). He is also cocky and smug about his own abilities and intelligence, which is a side-effect on a lot of Ravenclaw. They think they know better. He thinks the same. I can see him excelling in Arithmancy since it’s the Math of Magic.

Ben – Ravenclaw. He likes books and he is pretty rational most of the time. He has a gift with words and with them he reaches people’s heart. He doesn’t notice a lot of people have a crush on him, because he is good looking, a funny sensitive guy and when he starts talking about the beauty of latest discovery on Runology people are influenced by his passion. Yes, he is definitely good in Ancient Runes.

I like the idea of my favourite boys being in the same house. I am sure Five would insult Ravenclaw’s eagle knocker every time he can’t get inside their dormitory, because the eagle goes all philosophic and Five has no time for that. Ben always gets the answers right.

Ben: “It’s about the perception of the question, not the accuracy of the answer per se.” after Five flipped at the guardian of their house once again that week.

Five *snikers*: “Bullshit, Ben. The Eagle just hates my guts since the first year I called him an obnoxious opinionated rusty emblazonment.”

Ben: “I am sure Rowena Ravenclaw would have loved to listen you insulting her enchanted knocker! But may I remind you, you cannot threaten to melt him in an ashtray every day and demand him to like you.

Klaus – Hufflepuff. He is so random and full of chaotic energy, Hufflepuff can be that. He is also very empathic and has a very acute emotional intelligence. He is better at school subjects than what people gave him credit. Since in the wizarding world ghosts are more common than the muggle world, he learned to not be afraid of them. They do not have superpowers in such AU, they’re already magical so seeing ghosts isn’t something special. I imagine him having a sort of sixth sense though, not powerful enough to be a Seer but good enough to have amazing intuitions. He had tons of fun in the Divination class, because he can talk for hours about random sh*t (remember the frog and the scorpion) and it sounds like a prophetic genius. 

Vanya – Hufflepuff. People always look down on this house because they are “the rest” and their good features are loyalty and just. What’s wrong with being loyal and just? Helga Hufflepuff thought everyone with magic deserve an education when she decided she would take everyone else the other four didn’t want. That’s an educator, great Helga! This house encourages the students to be proud of who they are. Vanya being in a house that welcome people and treat the students equally is a fitting choice for me, she would love the warming dormitory too. Vanya is loyal to the people she loves and at the core she is a good person. Extra points for the fact you must get the right musical rhythm to open the secret entrance. She nailed it. She joined the Hogwarts Orchestra in the Third Year and have a wicked talent for Charms. (I am biased because I am an Hufflepuff, but my house is good!).

I imagine Ben and Klaus’ friendship being the reason why Five and Vanya’s orbits collided at the beginning. One day Klaus drags Vanya with him in one of the study rooms to join a study group for the next Transfiguration test “Benny is funny and adorable, but he is also bringing this other super nerd Ravenclaw who is kinda of a jerk. I CANNOT deal with studying Transfiguration and two brain-suckers at once. You are my emotional support.”

Vanya accepts because she had to prepare for the same test anyway and she already knows Ben, she likes him. So, they met, everything is fine except for the fact Five is being his snarky self. Then I imagine Vanya saying something very witty at him to shut him up and suddenly Five feels a sort of sparkle inside (brain Five: Oh. Wait.). 

He doesn’t expect such a counterattack from this seemingly timid shy Hufflepuff girl. By the way he has noticed her since the third year, when she casted an actual Patronus charm during a lesson in DADA (Yes, Vanya is a powerful witch). Five was VERY impressed that day (probably turned on, but he is a teenager that’s normal. Hormones suck). However his brain didn’t catch up the hints from his heart until that moment in the study hall. 

Allison – Slytherin. I could put her in Gryffindor, but I like the idea that she subverts the typical image of a Slytherin. She is cunny, clever and ambitious like any Slytherin can be, she also doesn’t mind being at the center of the attention. However, she is also caring, kind and a social butterfly among her peers. She befriends Vanya because she genuinely likes her, who care if she is of another house. She certainly doesn’t care if his boyfriend Luther is a Gryffindor, the “enemy” of their house. No Slytherin bullies can ever have the best on her, she hex them before they can blink. Excellent in Cure of the Magical Creatures and Transfiguration.

Luther – Gryffindor. He wants to do the right thing and showing it. Big body, bigger heart. Quidditch player in the house team, probably a chaser. He is doing it just because Diego asked, he is more into Astronomy and Herbology (he was very caring with his little plant on the base on the Moon, I like the idea he is good with plants in general) than sports. I mean, if not Gryffindor where else?

Diego – Gryffindor. In this reality he doesn’t have such a bad hero complext, but he has a strong sense of justice and he wants validation through his good actions. He does them because he is a brave of course, but also because he’s a little show-off like any Gryffindor on monday morning. Captain of the Quidditch team, a chaser and he loves to participate at the duel club (a proper duel club, not the fake one created by Lockhart years before). He is good on Defence against the Dark Arts. He wants to be an Auror.

Klaus convinces Diego to join the “How long it will take for Five and Vanya to finally confess their feelings and snog in one of the broom closets?” bet he made with Ben. Allison and Luther try to help them by organizing a double date at Hogsmeade, one of the weekends when the students are allowed to visit the village. Five almost chokes his own twin brother (YES, Luther and Five are twin brothers canon in this AU. Like in the comics. It’s my guilty pleasure okay) for tricking him, altough the plan worked at the end of the day. Ben wins the bet.