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bbangsoonie · 3 years

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teach me about love

member: kevin genre: fluff (preschool teacher!kevin au) word count: 2,120 synopsis: when your brother asks you to pick up your nieces from school, you find a teacher that you find to be cuter than the toddlers there.

a/n: happy birthday to our moonlight boy, kevin 🌙

You didn’t really like kids. They were adorable, of course, but they were snotty walking embodiments of germs and you had no idea how to entertain them. They were absolutely precious when sleeping but their tantrums terrified you.

Whenever they came up to you with those bright expectant eyes, you didn’t know what to do except pet their head. Everyone around you would scold you saying that they were children, not dogs. But in your defense, they didn’t seem to mind.

To be honest, you preferred dogs over kids. They were cute all the time.

Nonetheless, you still adored your nieces. The older one, Ahyoung, reminded you of your own past self. She was shy and reserved but sought out love and attention. She constantly needed assurance to fight early signs of anxiety. The younger one, Soyoung, was the complete opposite; she was loud and outgoing. She easily made friends with everyone and adjusted well to new environments.

So when your brother asked you for a last minute favor, you were more than happy to pick them up at their preschool. Unfortunately, however, you were terrible with directions and ended up 20 minutes late.

Apologizing profusely to the staff and teachers, you made your way throughout the building to find their classroom. That was another struggle of its own.

“Auntie Y/n!” you heard two familiar voices screech. You laughed as they ran up to you and hugged your legs.

“Sorry I’m late girls,” you pouted as you squished their cheeks.

“It’s okay, Auntie! Teacher Kevin was playing house with us,” Ahyoung beamed.

“Teacher Kevin was our dog!” Soyoung giggled.

You looked up to see a male teacher sheepishly escape from the tiny playhouse. You held back a laugh, pitying him for what the girls put him through.

“I’m sorry about that,” you chuckled.

“No worries,” he smiled. “It’s my job and I love kids. I had fun playing with them too.”

“I’m Y/n,” you introduced as you held out a hand. “I’m Ahyoung and Soyoung’s aunt. I came to pick them up since my brother got caught up in a work emergency.”

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Kevin,” he said as he shook your hand. You knew it was unprofessional to think this but he was cute. Like, really cute.

Trying to leave before your smiling cheeks could reveal your thoughts, you quickly collected the girls’ bags and helped them put their jackets on. You bid their cute teacher goodbye and happily suggested an aunt-niece ice cream date. They cheered at the idea of sweets and raced to your car.

The next week, your brother asked if you could pick the girls up from school again. Apparently they had been bugging him to have their favorite aunt come every day.

You weren’t sure if it was his flattery or if it was their sneaky plan for ice cream but you didn’t mind. As a freelancer, you had a flexible schedule. You were glad to spend time with your nieces and catch another glimpse of their teacher.

This time, you made sure to leave your house early. You ended up arriving before dismissal and watched as the kids ran around in the playground. Something about seeing Kevin’s eyes sparkle in front of them made you soft. He seemed so genuinely happy and looked at each student with honey dripping from his eyes.

Soyoung squealed as she chased after a boy who tapped her free in a game of freeze tag. She was a little confused about the rules but the effort was there.

While still keeping an eye on the children, Kevin approached you and asked if you wanted a juice box. You kindly declined, thanking him for the offer.

“You’re really good with the little ones,” you complimented.

“Ah, no, they’re the ones who are good with me,” he shyly shook his head. “I’m thankful that they see me as a fun and respectable teacher.”

“I find young kids to be difficult,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to match their level.”

“I get you. It’s definitely not easy to figure out what they want and try to communicate with them with their still-developing language skills. I’m still not great at it. I just try to improve a little more every day,” he said humbly.

He was a lot better than you who was quick to give up and run away. His words made you reflect and feel slightly guilty.

The bell chimed, making the students rush to line up in front of the door. Kevin left your side to gather everyone together and take them back inside to gather their belongings.

By now, a handful of parents had arrived and were waiting for their children. One by one, the students walked out with their matching yellow chick backpacks, excitedly running up to their guardian.

Your nieces greeted you in that high pitched shriek you loved, body slamming into your open arms. With them in your embrace, you gave them a tight squeeze before getting up and holding their hands to take them to the car.

“Wait!” you heard Kevin call out. Turning around, you were surprised to see him running towards you. When he caught up to you, he held out a book. Taking it, you read the title.

“The Body Language of Toddlers”

“I thought you might find this book useful,” his hands fumbled awkwardly, not knowing where to go. His gesture brought you a warm feeling.

“Thank you, Kevin. I’ll be sure to give it a read,” you smiled.

“Ooooh,” Ahyoung wiggled her eyebrows, making both you and Kevin blush. You ruffled her hair and ushered her towards your vehicle.

Picking the girls up from school became a biweekly thing for you. Every Monday and Friday, you would arrive ten minutes early to chat with Kevin as he told you funny stories that happened throughout the day. And when you worked with a bunch of preschoolers, there were a lot of those types of stories.

You listened as he went on about how a little boy woke up from a nap thinking he had an argument with his friend because of a nightmare he had. Kevin had to convince him that it was all a dream and that his friend did not actually steal his gummy worms and lie about it.

The way he spoke about his students was endearing. He made them sound like lovely angels even when they were cranky and misbehaving.

“We’re looking for chaperones for the upcoming field trip if you’re interested,” he cautiously brought up. “We only had a few parents sign up so we’d really appreciate any extra helping hands.”

Panicking, you stuttered about how you didn’t have the confidence to keep rowdy kids in check at a public space. He assured you that your only responsibility would be to make sure no one ran off and to accompany kids to the bathroom if they had to separate from the group.

He was a smooth talker. He somehow persuaded you into agreeing and you couldn’t believe you left the school that day after signing the form.

“Auntie, do you like Teacher Kevin?” Ahyoung asked you in the car ride back home.

“Sure, Teacher Kevin is nice,” you hummed.

“No, she means do you like like him?” Soyoung pressed.

You feigned innocence and pretended not to understand what they were talking about. They grilled you about how often you talked with him and even pointed out that he didn’t talk to other parents like that. They sure were smart-witted for their age.

On the day of the field trip, you spent a long time deciding on what to wear. You had no idea how casual you were supposed to dress as a chaperone.

You ended up choosing a simple outfit and rushed out the door to avoid being late. You had to say you were excited. It had been ages since you last visited an aquarium. And maybe the extra butterflies in your stomach were because of a certain someone you were looking forward to seeing.

Meeting Kevin outside of the school felt different. He stood out in the crowd of tiny humans. Even more so once you entered the place and you noticed that most of the visitors were families, students, or couples.

You softly smiled as you watched the kids fawn over colorful fish and gawk at sharks. It felt like you were returning to your own childhood innocence. You followed Ahyoung, who was pulling at your sleeve, to the jellyfish section where she asked you to take a picture of her with the transparent creature.

The photos came out so incredibly that you had to immediately send them to your brother. He texted back almost instantly and you scoffed when you read his message.

“Heck yeah I made that. Those are my genes right there.”

Rolling your eyes, the corners of your lips twitched up as you put the device away. You guided Ahyoung back to the rest of the group and ran into Kevin who was coming back from the bathroom with another student.

“How are you enjoying the trip so far?” he asked.

“It’s nice. Honestly not as chaotic as I thought it’d be,” you admitted.

“Oh don’t jinx it. Lunch time will be hectic,” he warned.

He was right. Between picky kids and the kimbap packed by their parents, the unwanted vegetables were flown around the picnic table. You barely managed to avoid the carrot that was flung in your direction. Unluckily, you were unable to dodge the spinach that was now tangled in your hair.

Kevin laughed as he tried to help you take it out, cracking a joke about it looking like seaweed and you looking like a mermaid dragged out of the ocean.

“He means you’re pretty, Auntie!!” Soyoung eagerly translated on his behalf. “Mermaids are super super pretty. Like Ariel, the princess!”

This raised a teasing crowd of “ooh”s from the group of preschoolers.

“Teacher Kevin and Auntie Y/n sitting in a tree,” a boy began chanting, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

His friend made a face and screamed “ew,” making him laugh uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Kevin was trying his best to cover his burning ears. He pulled the beanie over his ears, not wanting to expose his embarrassment.

“My daddy said no boy is good enough for Auntie but I’ll tell him nice things about you, Teacher Kevin. Just specially for you,” Ahyoung proudly announced.

Awkwardly coughing, you stuffed her cheeks with another roll of kimbap. Her muffled cries of resistance were appeased with a juice box shoved into her mouth. The sweet drink diverted her attention away from you and back to her lunch.

You two were now officially shipped by all of Kevin’s students. Even the other teachers giggled as they passed by you.

By the end of the field trip, you were one of the last ones to leave. After all the other students and teachers departed from the aquarium, Kevin escorted you to the car with a sleeping Ahyoung in his arms and a sleeping Soyoung in yours.

You both carefully placed them in their car seats and closed the door after buckling their seat belts. Now that you were alone with him, you didn’t know what to say. Despite the silence, it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable.

“So have you warmed up to the idea of kids yet?” he finally asked after clearing his throat.

“The book you gave me definitely taught me a lot of things,” you nodded. “Now I’m not completely terrified of them. And seeing you handle kids comforts me.”

“Really? How so?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… you so effortlessly take care of them and I can see how much you cherish each and every one of your students. I envy that.”

“Trust me, it’s not as easy as you think it is,” he chuckled.

Silence fell between you again but you simply enjoyed his presence. You turned your head to see him already staring at you. With your eyes, you wordlessly asked if there was something he wanted to say.

“So uh tomorrow’s Saturday,” he suddenly mentioned. He was fiddling with a loose thread on his sweater and hesitated to speak up again.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” he blurted. You couldn’t stop the smile that crept up on your face.

“Nope.”

“Would you like to um grab dinner with me tomorrow then?”

He anxiously held his breath as he waited for your response. Biting his lips, he wondered if he had ruined things by going too fast.

“Sure. How’s 6?” you finally answered.

“6 is great. 6 is lovely. Wonderful. Perfect,” he replied with a huge grin.

a/n: calling all kevin enthusiasts aka @reverienostalgia

i also may or may not have kinda wrote my little cousins into this fic.. 👉🏻👈🏻

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atsvmi-x · 3 years

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my personal characterization of eren bc i’ve been thinking about him a lot🥰 this is all modern!au bc canon literally never happened.

these aren’t x reader headcanons but i have more than enough thoughts about eren in a relationship to provide those soon!

General

Loud, brash, and loyal to a fault - you either love him or hate him (or if you’re Jean, you both love and hate him)

Those that he allows into his inner circle are friends for life. He’s easy to piss off but he’s quick to forgive when it comes to friends and family. If that doesn’t apply to you, or you cross those closest to him, he’ll hold a grudge long after the issue is resolved. You’re on his shit list for life.

He wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s literally impossible for him to conceal his emotions. If he’s angry, sad, annoyed, happy, literally anything his feeling you will be sure to know.

The same goes for his opinions. Blunt beyond belief. If he thinks something is stupid he won’t hesitate to say so. He’ll backtrack to soften his delivery if he notices that it offends other parties though.

All of these factors can lead to awkward moments. 99% of the time he’s confident enough in his stance to ignore how others might receive him but the other 1% of the time you might catch the rare sight of his cheeks heating up.

Contrary to popular belief, Eren is actually smart. Not to the same caliber of Armin, Erwin or Hange when it comes to critical thinking and analysis, but it is still above average. That being said, he doesn’t necessarily apply himself to subjects that don’t immediately interest him. However, he has impeccable game sense, making him quite the accomplished athlete.

Anger issues. Clearly. It made him a difficult child... for most of his life (and probably the reason he’s an only child) but as he’s gotten older he’s learned to manage his temper. It’s still easy to rile him up though, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before he backs down from a challenge. But for the most part his attitude is a running joke between those he’s closest with.

He has a strong moral compass and sense of justice. Not in the sense that he’s conservative, far from it. His personal ideology is: as long as it’s not hurting anyone people should do what they want. and anyone that messes with that is wrong. He’s a simple guy

Bad at flirting. He can be super oblivious and when he does catch on, he’s not smooth at all. But he’s tall and pretty so it comes off as endearing 99% of the time. It’s his boy-ish charms that save him every time.

Childhood

Cute as a button as a baby. Poor Carla and Grisha were blindsided when he hit his terrible twos.

Had no friends besides Armin until middle school when his parents adopted Mikasa.

Before Mikasa, he and Armin were the black sheep of the neighborhood kids. Eren easily alienated himself from the neighborhood kids and his schoolmates due to his brash nature. Looking back on it, he still stands with his decision since it meant he found his first friend.

(Armin didn’t fit in for his old soul thanks to being raised by his grandparents)

Super curious and didn’t realize how small he was in such a big world. On several occasions he wandered off because of his curious nature. Would have been a leash kid if leash kids were a thing when he was growing up.

Could technically be considered a school bully for talking down to kids on the playground. HOWEVER, he was smaller than other kids for a while, meaning his haughty attitude resulted in petty school yard fights that he lost most of the time. Still, he never cried and never learned his lesson.

Since we was never against a fight, he made it his mission to take up for Armin. When Mikasa joined his family he did the same for her when their peers made comments about her different looks. As we know, those roles soon reversed with Mikasa taking on a protector roll

To try and find a suitable outlet for his excess...energy...Carla and Grisha signed him up for every sport under the sun. Was pretty good too but excelled at football and track and field.

Teen

Was on a first name basis with administration during his school years for getting too invested in classroom debates. His fired up nature easily boiled over outside the classroom resulting in several fist fights

Got suspended once for said fights, but more often than not Mikasa saved him before he could get into more trouble.

So angsty. Literally a textbook case of teen angst from the loud music, dark clothes, to butting his heads with his parents he was truly a nightmare. (He recognizes this and is forever apologetic to his parents for being so difficult during this time)

Started to grow out of his rebellious phase by his junior year. There was no real explanation for it he just...did. That’s not to say that he was any less combative, he just knew what battles to pick. Good job Eren.

By the time he graduates he’s such a mama’s boy. He’s always loved him mom but now his eyes have been opened to how much of a handful he was growing up. He’s embarrassed anytime she brings up old stories but he knows it’s all in good fun.

He’s also had a major growth spurt by the time he graduates and his years of playing sports have definitely paid off. He’s a total heartthrob by his senior year and unintentionally a heartbreaker. Again, it’s hard to break into his circle, nothing personal.

Young Adult (College/Post Grad)

Commits to playing football exclusively. Not out of hopes of going pro but he just really likes the sport. He’s well known around campus between sports and his personality.

Still, he can be found with any one member of his crew at any given time. It’s rare to find him by himself unless he’s in his dorm room. He’s a total extrovert and gets bored easily when left to his own devices.

BUT he’s not a total party animal. Definitely prefers kickbacks to partying. But he will show his face if someone personally asks him to come.

Smokes and drinks the normal amount. Knows his limits and isn’t a lightweight for either. But under the right conditions (i.e. drinking games, bets, etc.) he’ll over indulge. Far too touchy when he’s under the influence.

Struggled to find his “calling” in school. Most of his friends fell into majors that they clicked with but it wasn’t that easy for him. He probably ends up with a fifth year under his belt. since he didn’t officially declare a major until maybe junior year.

Graduates with a political science degree! 1) He fooled his parents into thinking he’d go to law school which satisfied his doctor dad. 2) While he doesn’t exactly know how, he wants to improve daily life for the less fortunate and he thought this was a good step to do that. 3) He loved being able to argue for a grade during in-class debates

I know we all love streamer!Eren but I really do think he’d end up going down a creative/independent route where he’s not tied to a desk 9-to-5. It really stressed him out to think about doing thing for 50 years and then being able to enjoy life after retirement.

Other

Like previously mentioned, his music tastes were pretty narrow. But as his social circle grew and he was exposed to new genres his musical pallet has expanded. His go to genres are still heavy, but he’s not against asking what song just played if he liked it (unless you’re Jean, he’ll never give him the satisfaction).

I feel like his celebrity crush is Doja Cat. I have no evidence I just feel like he’d be into her.

Baby can NOT dance. if he tries hard he can bust a two step but usually he doesn’t usually put forth the effort though. It just gets worse if he drinks.

Very much a night owl but surprisingly, he doesn’t like to sleep in either. Feels like there’s too much stuff to do in a day to just waste it in bed. He contradicts himself though bc he can spend all morning in bed playing around on his phone (he’s addicted)

#could you tell that i love him?#eren #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren jeager scenarios #eren jeager headcanons #eren yeager scenarios #eren yeager headcanons #aot x reader #aot scenarios #aot headcanons #my writing

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chicksung · 3 years

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The Firsts With My Last || Park Jisung

Genre: fluff, lil bit of angst, best friends to lover au

Pairing: childhood best friend!jisung x reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Warning/s: small argument, food

Synopsis: a collection of firsts with Park Jisung

A/N: Aaaaaahhhhh!!! it’s finally here! I cannot express how happy and excited I am for this! I worked so so so hard on this and I hope that you enjoy it! Feedback is welcome! Thank you to the lovely Elle @joh--pping for making the header!

Networks: @nctnetwrite @nct-writers @kpopscape @neoturtles @neoswitchnet

Taglist: @moonbeamsung @lebrookestore @jaeminpeachy @joh--pping @kyuwoyo @nksideblog @ncvltrtchnlgy @vera-liscious @ncteaxhoe @neojaems @ethaeriyeol

First meeting

First grade, a time where your biggest worry was if you would be home in time to watch your favourite cartoon. That was also the age you met Park Jisung. Your teacher had handed out a simple colouring-in to keep the students entertained for the few minutes before the lunch bell rang. You had been peacefully drawing when one of your classmates, Chenle, had tried to grab the blue coloured pencil that was in your grasp. It was part of a pencil set your grandmother had given to you and you held it very dear to your heart, so the fact that one of troublemakers was trying to take it from you, made you severally upset. Despite the discouragements from his friends to leave you alone, you and Chenle continued your intense game of tug-o-war on the pencil until you heard a heart stopping snap. The pencil splintered down the middle, unable to take the pressure anymore. You could only eyeball it in shock, reality finally settling in that Chenle had broken your favourite pencil. The bell rang and you stared at Chenle, scooping up the two halves of the broken pencil into your chubby hands. You were the first one out of the classroom, tears streaming down your face as you grabbed your lunchbox and disappeared into the playground.

You hid behind a tree, attempting to summon your much needed magical abilities to somehow stick the two halves back together. No matter how hard you pressed them into each other, they wouldn’t bond together with an invisible force. At this realisation, you began to sob again, hiding your face into your knees, quiet wails escaping your lips. You continued to cry until you saw a pair of red and blue shoes come into your tear blurred vision from beneath your legs. You looked up and were met with a chubby cheeked child, a child you recognised as one of your classmates and one of Chenle’s friends who had tried to convince him to stop roughhousing with you.

“I’m sorry about your pencil. Chenle can be a bit of a butthead,” The boy gave you an awkward smile before shifting the wood chips and dirt around with the toe of his shoe. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” He asked politely, his eyes big and friendly. As much as you wanted to be alone and definitely did not want to be accompanied by someone who was on friendly terms with the culprit of the state your pencil was in, you couldn't find it in your heart to say no to his friendly gesture. You nodded sadly and he immediately occupied the space next to you. He looked at the broken pieces in your hand and a smile crept to his face.

“There is one good thing about your broken pencil,” He stated, making you snap your head towards him.

“What is there good about this? My favourite pencil is broken because of your dumb friend,” You didn’t mean to snap at him, but you were so overcome with emotions and anger for what had happened, it slipped out. The boy looked at you, a little shocked at the fact you had called his friend dumb, but at the same time, he had called him dumb on multiple occasions.

“Think about it! If you sharpen this side of this one,” He pointed to the more splintered of the two pieces, “you could have two blue pencils,” He said with such innocence and optimism that it was infectious. You looked at the half and smiled. You had never thought about it like that. You were too caught up in the fact that it was broken to focus on anything else.

“You’re right!” You squeaked, a small laugh erupting from you. You turned to the boy once again, an unanswered question lingering in your mind.

“What’s your name?”

The boy smiled again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. “Park Jisung. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.”

First Realisation of Feelings

The 7th grade school dance, where the room is cramped and hot, full of hormonal preteens to early teenagers. Not exactly the place Jisung expected to see you. You had often expressed your dislike for the majority of the grade and you never liked being in overcrowded places, the perfect word to describe the gymnasium that was decorated for the occasion. Yet here you were, standing in the corner, hands behind your back, looking down at your shoes and playing with the hem of your dress. Jisung quickly ditched the conversation he was having with Sungchan and Chenle and made a b-line towards you. You were glad he saw you. You didn’t want to be here, only here by force from both your friends and your parents, your parents saying that you should socialise more outside of school hours and your friends saying it would be fun. However, your friends had made a b-line to the boys they liked from the grade, leaving you to stand there awkwardly until you could no longer stand watching your friend drooling over quite arguably the biggest jerk in the grade. As for your parents’ word, the only thing you could think to tell them is ‘why socialise when I’m most comfortable around the clumsiest boy in the class?’

“Hi,” Jisung said, the same awkward smile on his lips.

“Hi,” You replied. You didn’t need to be a psychic to know that Jisung wasn’t exactly here on his own terms, most likely only here for Chenle (who you had since reconciled with after the incident in first grade)

“You told me you weren’t coming,” He pointed out, trying to get rid of the slight awkwardness in the air. Why was it so awkward? It wasn’t normally like this.

“I wasn’t until I was made to by my friends and my parents,” You explained, shooting a glance to your friends, who were practically at each of their respective male attention giver’s beck and call. Why were they your friends again? “Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?” You brought attention to the sudden rise in the temperature, fanning your neck as you looked around for a possible air source, more so, a possible way out. Jisung nodded. He didn’t feel hot, but the gymnasium was cramped, and there were a lot of warm bodies inside of it, so he didn’t blame you.

“Yeah, let’s go outside. The breeze is really nice out there.”

After checking that the coast was clear of any members of faculty that might force you and Jisung to go back inside the gym, you ran to the gardens, a place that was quite pretty. Right next to the school flowed a river, which connected to the parent pick up area, accessible by bridge. You and Jisung stood side by side, watching your reflections ripple with the current of the water. The moonlight danced prettily with the water, creating a type of reflection that Jisung had only ever seen in movies. The cool summer breeze brushed against his skin, diminishing the sweat on his forehead.

Then he looked at you.

Your hair was lifted off your shoulders by the wind, the moon casting a silvery shadow across your face, fitting neatly across your facial features like a glove, but his breaking point was when you looked at him. It was as if someone had taken all of the stars in the galaxy and placed them one by one in your eyes. You looked so...beautiful. His heart rate increased dramatically and he was sure there was an intense blush that spread from his cheeks to his ears. Did he always feel like this when he saw you? Surely not. His heart had never raced like this before, and he definitely had never felt so speechless. What could this all mean? Could he...like you? “Hello? Earth to Park Jisung?” Your voice cleared the clouds of doubt from his mind as he finally closed his gaping mouth. “Are you okay? Do I need to tell a teacher?” You asked, a slight furrow in your brow appearing out of concern.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second.” He looked away in embarrassment, his eyes drifting over his reflection. Oh God, he was blushing. “The view was pretty and I guess started daydreaming.”

“Were you daydreaming about someone?” You asked simply, before a smile broke across your face. “Were you daydreaming about me?” Jisung almost choked on his spit at your words.

“Was not!” Your laughter only picked up in volume, Jisung having to shush you and remind you that you were not supposed to leave the gym.

“I’m only teasing you, I know you wouldn’t daydream about people. You just like to think about video games and food.”

“Hey, I do not! What’s with the Jisung slander?” You laughed. Something about your laugh was addicting, like a song he had just discovered and was unable to stop the lyrics from playing in your head.

It’s been three weeks since the dance and you and Jisung were in the library, studying. Well, if you were to classify copying your science homework as homework because he had completely forgotten about it. You were currently working on your analysis for your Literature class, reading over the assessment outline to make sure you could get the best grade possible. You looked over and Jisung and he looked so relaxed. His round glasses perched comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his eyes scanning your answers before jotting them down onto his own page, his fingers wrapped firmly around his pen, and his lips pushed into a little pout as he concentrated. He looked so laid back, so relaxed despite the fact he had nearly had a heart attack when you told him that the homework was due by your next class, which didn’t give him enough time to do it at home. With your thoughts swimming through your head and so far into your daydream, you hadn’t noticed that his head had picked up and you were now staring (quite awkwardly) at each other.

“Is there something on my face?” Jisung asked, trying desperately to break the awkwardness between you two. You shook your head rapidly, assuring him that his appearance was fine and you had just spaced out. Well, you hadn’t completely lied. His appearance did look fine, and you had spaced out, you had just decided to leave out the reasoning as to why you had spaced out.

Your cheeks burned harshly, like you were sitting in direct sunlight at the beach without any sunscreen. Is this what a developing crush felt like? Surely not. There’s no way you could have a crush on your best friend. That was weird, according to your friends, but then again, these were the same friends that said that you and Jisung were perfect for each other, so you don’t think they are a very credible source.

Was this how crushes develop? Yes. Yes it was

First Confession

Sophomore year of high school. People are calming down from exam week, finally getting the recommended hours of sleep after the countless number of all nighters that were pulled to cram, drinking water instead of the copious amounts of caffeine. The autumn air was starting to set in and the leaves were starting to fall, catching the wind and creating a train for oranges and browns. You and Jisung were walking home from school, your head pounding after the amount of brain power wasted on several test packages that weighed too heavily on your overall grade in your opinion.

“How about we go get ice cream and go to the park? My treat to the both of us working so hard?” You suggested, turning to the equally emotionally drained best friend beside you. At the mention of a delicious sweet treat, his head perked up and he nodded.

“Yes! Anything to stop my head from hurting,” His lips formed the most relieved smile, your pulse increasing at the sight. In an attempt to calm your racing heartbeat, you watched the leaves, long fallen from the huge oak trees that towered over you, crunch underneath your feet, a little bit of stress releasing each time you stepped in them. Jisung seemed to pick up on this, his smile taking on a playfully mischievous role. He raced ahead of you and jumped, his feet landing firmly in a pile of leaves. The dead leaves flew up around him, creating a skirt of sorts around his waist. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, a stupidly large smile shared between the two of you.

“Come on, let’s get this ice cream before the store closes. We’ll never get there if you keep acting like you’ve never seen leaves before,” You rolled your eyes, continuing down the path, your back now facing Jisung. He jogged to your side, bumping your hip with his when he did.

“You don’t know that.”

“We have literally been friends since we were 5, I think I would know,” Jisung cursed inwardly after taking a second to process what you had said.

“T-That’s not fair and I- hey! Hey! Wait up!”

Walking down a simple path in the park, the bumpy texture of the wafer cone in your hand, and the occasional playful cheers of children and dog passing by was simply relaxing. The simplicity of the noises of everyday life, the perfect natural remedy for an exam induced headache.

You and Jisung came across a beautiful area that overlooked the huge lake in the middle of the park, a popular skating attraction during the winter. There were a few ducks waddling around the water’s edge, a few gliding gracefully along the water and few attempting to ruin a couple’s picnic by stealing their sandwiches. As you sat down on the ground, the crisp breeze whipped lightly across your face, you were relaxed, almost completely forgetting about the exams you had taken only hours earlier.

Jisung was staring at you, he was sure of it. In fact, he’s pretty sure that the elderly couple sitting metres away from the both of you would see it. He followed your gaze when your eyes fell on the most adorable mother duck, being followed by her clumsy ducklings. You liked the one at the back the most, always the most clumsy. You turned to Jisung, a teasing smirk dripping from your lips.

“You see the one at the end?” You pointed to the duckling, whose little webbed foot had caught on a twig, sending it rolling onto its side. Jisung nodded. “That would be you as a duck. The overly clumsy baby of the family,” Jisung’s eyes widened in slight offense at your comment.

“What do you mean? I’m not clumsy!” He tried to defend himself, only gaining a snort from you.

“Right, and I’m the Queen of England,” You said sarcastically, looking back towards the ducks. Between the time you had turned away to tease Jisung and right now, another duck had come back in search of it’s sibling. The duckling looked curiously at the fallen duck, before turning its head and let out high pitched quacks to its mother and signalling her to come back. Jisung watched as the mother duck picked the duckling up by the scruff of the neck and put it back on its feet.

“And if you were a duck, that would be you. Always looking out for the clumsy one,” He commented, watching the family waddle off to a different area of the park. Taking another spoonful of his ice cream (you refused to let him get a cone. With how accident-prone he was, there was only fate for that poor ice cream cone, and it involved Jisung dropping ice cream down his crisp white shirt) before sighing.

“Ducks are cute like you too,” He thought out loud, forgetting that the you in question was sitting right next to him.

“Did you say something?” You asked.

“I-I said ducks are cute, and then I stopped talking!” Real smooth, Park.

“Right…” You said, knowing damn well that isn’t what he said, but you didn’t wish to press further. “My legs are asleep, let’s walk a little more.” You suggested, almost leaping from your spot on the ground. Jisung scrambled to stand up too, his ice cream almost slipping through his fingers.

You walked for what felt like miles, talking about everything under the sun. You hadn’t realised how far you had walked until you were facing the street, with the name of your street written in printed letters on the sign.

“Guess my legs knew it was getting late before I did. I should probably get home before my mom yells at me. See you at school tomorrow, right?” Before you could walk away, you felt a hand on your wrist. Jisung’s hand.

“Wait, I need to tell you something,” Jisung’s voice sounded desperate, like if he didn;t say this now, it would kill him.

“What? Did you leave your jacket at the park again?” You tried to joke, but Jisung’s eyes just pleaded with you.

“Please just listen,” Jisung said, his tone coming out a lot sterner than he had meant to. He exhaled deeply before placing both of his hands in yours, his head swimming with thoughts.

“I like you.” His eyes, his tone, the slight smile on his lips. They all were dripping with sincerity.

“What-”

“I like you. I don’t expect you to accept my feelings but I just really needed to get this off my chest because I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while and-”

“I like you too,” You interjected with a smile, squeezing Jisung’s hand.

“Y-You do?” He repeated your words in his head like a broken record, watching as you gave him a confident nod.

“Yes. Now, can I go home now?” Jisung flustered himself and nodded, letting go of your hand and waving as you disappeared down your street. His cheeks were glowing red, surely resembling a firefly. You liked him too? He felt like a giddy schoolboy, a smile plastered on his face. This was quite possibly the best day of his life.

First Date

“No, no. Absolutely not, I refuse,” Jisung screeched as you swung into an empty parking space in the car park of the ice skating rink. You giggled evilly to yourself.

“You said I get to pick the location of our date, and I choose the ice rink,” You reminded him smugly, giving him a sickly sweet smile. You sunk down in his seat, grumbling unheard profanities as he knew you were right. He had given you the power to choose where you two would have a date together, a power he was now regretting giving you.

“Lighten up, will you? One ice skating session isn’t going to kill you,” You rolled your eyes, making your way towards the entrance to the building.

“I seriously doubt it,” He grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

There weren’t many others on the rink, some small children with their parents, the odd couple or two, but it was quiet. Well, quiet customer wise.

“Don’t let go of me! I’m too young to die!” Jisung squeaked, your arm wrapped in a death grip from the boy.

“Jisung, you’re not gonna die, not on my watch,” You assured him, helping him up as his knees shook like a newborn giraffe. You were able to shake the grip he had on your arm and hold both of his hands before skating backwards very slowly. “You trust me, right?” “More than anything,” He affirmed. You smiled and tugged him along, giving him perfect momentum to stay on his two feet. You swung yourself around so you were now skating besides him, intertwining your fingers together like puzzle pieces. Gliding together, you felt like you were skating in the middle of a snowy escape, a winter wonderland. You felt as if you were skating with the Snow Kingdom’s prince (except if the Snow Prince didn’t know how to skate) and the snow was falling gently around you delicately.

This fantasy ended when your hand was jerked backwards. Your skates hit an oddly slipping part of the ice, causing you to slip over and fall promptly on the ground, finding yourself face to face with the culprit, your clumsy boyfriend.

“Heh, sorry,” He apologised, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel any kind of unamused emotion towards the boy, only bursting into a fit of giggles.

“You’re too darn cute,” you admitted, knees knocking as you got back onto your feet. You extended your hand, offering it to Jisung as assistance to get him back on his feet.

“Do you wanna try again?” It was more of a suggestion than a question, but you still hesitated, afraid of him saying no.

“What are my chances of getting a concussion?” The boy joked, a bright and gummy smile breaking across his face. You stifled a laugh.

“Pretty high when you assess the situation,” You answered in an amused tone. Jisung suddenly pulled you closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. His slender fingers were freezing cold against the rosy tint of your cheeks, but you didn’t seem to mind all that much. You could see him having an inner battle with himself before grinning in victory. He leaned closer to you, placing a peck to the numbed tip of your nose. Your heart fluttered like it had been caught up in a whirlwind of butterfly wings, delicately carrying them to a higher level than before. You swore you were giving Jisung really obvious heart eyes, but from the way he was looking at you, the exchange must’ve been mutual.

Jisung finally pulled himself together, slow realisation sinking in of what he had just done. “S-Sorry,” he apologised softly, his fingers slipping away from your cheek. You caught it, bringing it down to the height of your shoulder and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t be,” you said cooly, cautiously skating towards the exit to the rink. “I’m starving. Let’s go find lunch. You can pick this time,” you smiled cheerily at him. He snuck a glance to you as he untied the laces of his ice skates. There was something about your smile that was so enchanting, sort of subtle, and perfect, and real. He couldn’t help but wonder if you even knew how wonderful your smile could make someone feel. Especially a someone like Jisung, someone who would find elegance and serenity in the tiniest things you do. He cursed his heart for fluttering stupidly fast, not that it heeded his thoughts, only beating harder the more he stared at you.

“Let’s go,” You announced, extending your hand to him. He grabbed it without a second thought. This felt like home to him, with someone who meant the world to him.

First Kiss

“Jisung, this is crazy! My parents will find out about this!” You whisper-yelled at Jisung, reluctantly throwing on your coat and shoes. Jisung smiled like a fool, feeling like a modern day Romeo as he waited on your front porch. You threw the front door open, seeing your boyfriend, absolutely drenched from head to toe with rain. The rain had been falling heavily for half an hour, so you couldn’t help but wonder what inside his mind decided that he would walk to your neighbourhood in the pouring rain just to see you?

“Jisung, it’s two in the morning. Why are you here?” You interrogated once you shut the door.

“I wanted to see you. Is that such a crime?” He countered, a sly smile resting on his pretty lips. You scoffed, playfully pushing him away. Jisung took a few paces back, extending his long fingers to you.

“Huh?” You vocalised your confusion.

“Come dance with me,” He said, waiting patiently. You hesitated for a moment. You feared the fact that your parents would definitely ground you if they found out that you were escapading at ridiculous hours of the night just to be with a boy, but on the other hand, this was Jisung you were talking about. The night, or morning if you were to be technical, wasn’t getting any younger and nor were you. In that moment, you didn’t care if your parents found out about your late night adventures. You grabbed Jisung’s hand and smiled.

“Show me to the dance floor,” You announced confidently.

To the rest of the world, the two of you probably looked like idiots. Running and shoving each other in the rain, willingly. However to the both of you, you were the only two people in the world. The only light to remind that the world was still there were the dim streetlights, illuminating only within its reach before fading back into darkness.

You danced under the streetlamp, your very own spotlight. You risked the chances of a cold, for the feeling of freedom, to be two dumb kids, fooling around at forsaken hours of the night. You had a smile to your ears and your laughter rang out loudly throughout the slumbering neighbourhood. You squealed when he pulled you closer to him by your hips. Your hands instinctively rested on his shoulders, eyes focusing on him, the water droplets that fell from his soaking wet hair and the goofy smile on his lips.

The laughter that the two of you died down, both of you completely infatuated by the other. How pretty they looked with raindrops kissing their skin, how their eyes sparkled when the light hit them at this angle. Jisung bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation. What if he was reading the signs wrong? What if you didn’t want to? He cautiously leaned forward, and you followed suit. Your lips met briefly before Jisung pulled away, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort or disgust. Instead, he was met with your eyes sparkling brightly, a huge smile breaking across your face.

“You kissed me,” You said, slightly astonished at Jisung’s bravery.

“Yeah, I did,” He mumbled, trying to come to terms with the event that just played out in front of him.

“Do it again,” You egged.

“Excuse me?” His eyes blew wide at your comment.

“Kiss me again.”

To the rest of the world, the two of you probably looked like idiots. However to the both of you, you were the only two people in the world. The only two people in your world.

First Time Falling in Love

The stars twinkled brightly in the dark sky above, like silver glitter that had been thrown into the depths of space. You admired the stars, wishing you could fly up there for a second just to dance among them. It was your calming activity before bed, talking to the stars about your day, especially if it wasn’t particularly a good day. The best part about today however, was that you weren’t gazing up into space in your bedroom, instead lying in the grass with the cool breeze on top of a hill that overlooked the city lights, and you weren’t gazing up into space alone, instead in company of your boyfriend, Jisung.

The two of you had spent the last hour and a half stargazing, talking about everything and anything, the big things like school systems, and the little things like the ladybird that had crawled it’s way up a blade of grass before taking flight above you. You were sleepy and ready to go home. You and Jisung were standing, facing each other, giving the sky one more quick glance before you left. When your vision came back down, you met Jisung’s eyes. They were pretty, a dark chocolate brown, the type of brown that when light hits them at just the right angle, they turn into pools of honey. They were entrancing, glittering, beautiful. It seems like he was just as entranced by your gaze as you were his, as the both of you stood in silence. Finally, Jisung mustered up enough courage like the day he asked you out, and cupped your face. His hands pressed flush against your cheeks, feeling the warmth from your blush underneath them. His lips parted and closed again, like he was trying to tell you something but was second guessing himself.

“I think,” Jisung started, trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” You laughed softly, your eyes flickering from his eyes down to his lips, so full and kissable. Without a second to think, he pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, a kiss full of sweetness and amateur love, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of you broke away and smiled. “Shall we go home now?” You asked with lovestruck eyes. He noticed. He smiled.

“Yes, we better,”

You were maybe just a little bit in love with Park Jisung.

First Argument

You can only recount one argument with Jisung.

You sat there at the cafe, looking around nervously for him. The constant checks of your phone and the cafe door every time the bell rang to signify a new customer, you silently hoped it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t do this to you. You refused to believe it. There was no way, right? There was no way Park Jisung had forgotten your date, right?

Wrong.

“Jeno, has anyone ever told you, you suck at MarioKart?” Chenle asked teasingly, pillow colliding with his head, which caused Toad to fly off the edge of the course. Jisung laughed hysterically, tears forming in his eyes as he drove Yoshi to victory. Amongst the commotion going on inside, the doorbell rang. Renjun, who was not participating in his friends’ antics, decided to answer it. Upon seeing you, he was a bit shocked to see you there. You barely showed up there, so to see you standing outside the door, with your coat folded between your arms and a displeased look on your face, took him by surprise.

“Jisung, it’s for you,” Renjun called into the door, abandoning you at the threshold to take over Jisung’s controller.

When your boyfriend saw you, he smiled with a twinkle of confusion in his eye.

“Hey, what are you doing here? We were just playing MarioKart if you-”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You interrupted bitterly, boring holes in his soul from your gaze alone. Jisung looked at you for a second, trying to comprehend the words that had left your lips moments ago.

“Is it your birthday?” Jisung asked stupidly. Anger flashed in your eyes before you grabbed him by the shoulder of his t-shirt and tugged him out of the dorm. With the door now acting as a barrier between the argument and the fun his friends were having, you could now speak freely.

“3pm, Culture Cafe. Does this mean anything to you?” You interrogated, your tone bitter and upset, a lethal combination. Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, wracking his brains to try and make connections between the two.

“Our date, Jisung! Our fucking date!” You yelled at him, growing bored of watching him try and remember. “We planned this three days ago, how can you not remember?” Your voice softened in disbelief. “It was just this one thing, but instead I come here and find you playing video games with your friends.” The more you spoke, the more tears blurred your vision.

Jisung swore he heard his heart break when he saw a fat tear roll down your cheek. He had caused those tears, over just how forgetful he really is.

“If there was a more sincere way of saying sorry, I would say it. I can’t think of the words to-” Jisung was cut off by your sobs. He immediately panicked, grasping your shoulders, feeling like a kicked puppy. “No, no, no, baby don’t cry. I promise I’ll-”

“I can’t be here any longer. Just give me a few days,” you used those words as your salutations of farewell, turning on your heel and walking away from him. You silently screamed at yourself for getting so upset over a stupid date, but this wasn’t like Jisung. He was so adamant about not forgetting the important things, so why would he forget this?

It had been five days since the confrontation with Jisung, and you had not spoken to him since. You left him on read with every text message, and deleted every voicemail he left you. You acknowledged you may be acting a bit brashly, but you wanted him to feel the same forgotten feeling that sat in the bottom of your stomach when he left alone at that cafe.

You wanted Jisung to apologise. You just didn’t expect him to apologise the way he did.

Your doorbell rang repetitively, clearly trying to divide your attention from your comfort show. You reluctantly stood up from your comfy spot on the couch, and walked towards the door. Upon opening it, you saw a boy with dark dishevelled hair with a cake in hand. The cake was messily decorated and seemed a bit squashed, but you could still tell it was supposed to be a heart shape.

“Is this your way of apologising?” You asked him monotonously, your eyes still on the cake. Jisung nodded. His eyes seemed puffy.

“I don’t mean to ruin the apology, but why does the cake look a bit…”

“Squished?” Jisung finished, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Chenle, the stupid ass, sat on the box before I left. All my hard work, now flattened,” He gave a half hearted chuckle before silencing himself.

“Look, I am really, really sorry. I was stressing, and the boys thought it would be a good idea if I spent time out of my room and play some games with them to stop moping around, and I didn’t realise how fast the time went and I forgot about our date and then I felt horrible and I-” He rambled on, an embarrassed blush colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He stopped when he heard you giggle, a soft, almost whimsical sound. You took the cake box from him and smiled.

“You put all of this work in, just for an apology?” You asked, a soft smile subconsciously creeping across your face.

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I got desperate,” Jisung admitted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck at your reaction. You stepped forward to kiss his cheek, his skin warm against your lips.

“So, am I forgiven?” He asked nervously, feeling cold sweat dribble down the back of his neck.

“Depends. Are you gonna share this cake with me?” You countered, stepping aside to invite him in.

“Who did you bribe to allow you in the kitchen by yourself?”

“Hey!”

First Dance

“Hurry up, we’re going to miss the sunset,” Jisung tugged you up the hill, sunlight casting over his face the higher he hiked up the mountain. You let out a tired laugh as you allowed him to drag you up the mountain. Once you reached the top, you finally understood why he wanted to show you this place. The view was spectacular. The sunset gave the landscape an orange hue to it, even the ocean sparkled like magnificent glitter. The orange specks glowed like millions of fireflies, creating a picture perfect landscape, one that belonged within the walls of a world famous museum.

“This is stunning,” You sighed in awe, the dusk lighting flicking its rays into your irises. Jisung nodded firmly, pride bubbling in his chest at knowing he picked the perfect place.

“Baby?” He asked, hiding his shyness as best he could.

“Yeah?” You answered, eyes breaking away from the beautiful atmosphere to him. He held his hand out, suggesting something.

“Dance with me?” He asked politely, a pink tint colouring the tips of his ears. You giggled lightly.

“Dancing is meaningless without music,” You informed, warm breeze whipping past the exposed parts of your skin. Jisung whipped out his phone, briefly tapped on the screen and waited before a soft and calming song played from the speakers. He slipped it into his back pocket, quickly taking your left hand in his right, his left hand coming down to rest on your waist and steadily rocking you to the melody. Your head rested against his chest, inhaling his warm scent. He smelt of fresh cotton sheets and something else that can only be described as the sweetest fruit of the summer.

The moment felt like a scene out of a fairytale, a nonsensical world that only manifested in the creative young minds of children, however the way the gentle breeze kissed your cheek and ruffled your hair, the last of the sun’s rays pressed a warm glow to your skin, it felt too real to be make believe.

Jisung twirled you around on the spot, a giggle escaping your lips as you fell gracefully against his chest. As you spun around to face him again, the look in his eyes could only be truly explained with one word; ‘Lovestruck’, like his whole world revolved around you. You were his moon, his stars, his world. You might as well have been his whole solar system, dammit. He pressed a soft chaste kiss your lips, pulling away and leaving only centimeters between the both of you.

“I love you,” Jisung’s face lit up like the fireflies that played in the valley beneath you. You cracked a giddy smile, lacing your fingers with him.

“I love you too,” You requited, realising that the song you were originally dancing to had faded out some time ago, only dancing along to the beat of each other’s heart. He laughed at this discovery, holding you closer and hearing the faint drum of your thumping heart. He hummed to himself as thoughts of you swam through his head, but only one stuck out to him. It was less of a thought and more like an idea, a wish, a dream, a promise.

You are my first love, and I intend for you to be my last

264 notes · View notes

lydias--stiles · 3 years

Text

and all i've seen is green eyes and freckles and your smile

juke | childhood friends to lovers | title: everything has changed // taylor swift

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

"Hey! Can I make pies with you?" A voice chirps.

Luke looks up from his serious work, sweat building on his forehead, and meets the eyes of a girl from his classroom. She's Julie, he thinks, though it could also be Flynn or Thea or Penny. They all sit together.

"It's chocolate," he explains, digging his fingers in the mud. "Do you like chocolate?"

"I love chocolate!" she yells, collapsing in the sandbox beside him and tucking her cloud of curls behind her ears.

Their jeans are stained and their elbows are scratched, but by the end of recess, they've baked about a dozen different cakes and have 'tried' a few as well.

"My mom makes the best cakes," she babbles as the bell rings, the two sauntering to the spot Miss Bloom would be waiting. "Like, real cakes, and I help her."

"That's cool." He stuffs his tiny hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I like cake too. My mom doesn't make it though."

"Then how do you know you like cake?"

"We buy it from the store, duh!" he laughs. "My favourite's confetti cake."

She hums in agreement. "I like peanut butter cherry a lot."

He gawks. "Whoa! That sounds crazy!"

"Do you wanna try a slice sometime?"

They go to stand in line with the other kids of their class, Miss Bloom counting their heads.

"Sure!"

—

The class goes to the zoo the next week, and Luke and Julie stick together as newly formed best friends. She holds his hand when he's scared of the zebras, and he helps her stand a little higher on the gate to get a better look at the llamas.

She, Flynn and Luke make the biggest collage of pictures and drawings the class had ever seen.

She feigns reading his hand and tells him his future is bright, a word that sticks with him and starts using for the rest of year.

She also tells him they'll be best friends forever and it gains her the biggest hug in the world.

Second grade ends and all of her friends go to her house to eat peanut butter cherry pie and listen to music in the garden as they play games.

She links pinkies with Luke at the end of night. "Friends forever?"

He grins, missing a front tooth. "Forever and more!"

—

"Reggie's parents are fighting," Luke quips, both of them upside down on the monkey bars.

Julie looks at him. His face is turning red. She wonders if she looks the same right now. "Fighting? Like, yelling ?"

"I don't know." He tries to shrug but his arms just flop around. "He just says they're fighting. Maybe they'll get a DJ."

Her nose curls up. "A DJ?"

"A DJ... like when moms and dads aren't together anymore."

She giggles. "A divorce, silly!"

Alex and Reggie trudge to their spot on the playground and mount themselves on the monkey bars.

"What are we taking about?" Reggie asks.

Alex pouts. "I don't wanna go upside down. What if I fall?"

"I've fallen and I'm still alive," Luke counters.

Alex shrugs and sits on the bars, but doesn't drop upside down. He can still listen like this.

"About your parents," Julie says, "about fighting."

Reggie makes a face. "I just don't like it. Like, I'm loud, but they're loud!"

Luke makes a noise of excitement, not unlike a strangled animal. He puffs, hoisting himself up. The rest follows and suddenly Alex isn't alone.

"Let's do a sleepover!" he exclaims. "My house!"

Everyone hollers and agrees. Julie raises her hand. "Can Flynn come too?"

"Why?"

"Because Flynn is fun and my best friend too!"

Alex smiles. "I like her too."

Reggie wiggles his brows. "Like like?"

"Ew, no!"

"So?" Julie stresses, looking at Luke.

He shrugs. "Sure. She can come too."

—

They're ten when Luke yells, "Ew, no, I don't like Julie!"

The girl in question who had been making their way to the group of boys, ready to ask Luke, Alex and Reg to play, balks at his exclaim. He doesn't like her? But they're best friends!

Hurt and offended, she stomps the last few meters and yells his name.

"Luke!"

He turns around in surprise. "Jules!"

"What do you mean you don't like me?!"

All the boys start laughing and snickering, muffling their mouths or blatantly pointing at her. She crosses her arms. Boys are so stupid!

"I don't!" he rushes.

"WHAT?!"

"I don't like like you," he clarifies, annoyed by the boys.

She stops for a moment. "Well, duh."

"Ya see," Luke grins, "Julie and I are just tight, okay?"

Bobby shrugs. "Whatever. You're still a sissy for being best friends with a girl!"

Anger floods her senses once more and she makes a consecutive decision right then and there. Pounding forward, she takes a resolute turn to Bobby and then slams her foot on his.

He yelps in agony, grabbing his foot and falling on the ground.

"That's what you get!" she yells.

"Yeah!" Luke and Reggie exclaim.

"Uh, guys—" Alex stutters.

They turn around to an angry mister Trent. Great, she thinks, now she's getting the blame for what Bobby started!

At least Luke doesn't like like her. That would've been a disaster.

(She gets detention, but it's worth it. Bobby stops bothering her.)

—

(But then Luke steals her first kiss that summer when they're by the pool playing truth or dare because Kayla wants to be adventurous. She's been obsessed with the idea of kissing and pushes Luke and Julie to do it.

It's brief, light as a feather and kind of weird, but she doesn't hate it.

His face turns bright as a cherry and she's kind of embarrassed for a day, but then they're cool and just don't talk about it.)

—

Reggie's parents divorce when they're in the sixth grade and they hold many more sleepovers.

—

"Don't move," Julie orders, carefully putting toothpaste on his pimple, "it's gonna work, I promise."

Luke groans. "You promise? It's HUGE!"

"It really isn't," she lies, because it's probably as big as the Kilimanjaro.

"I wanted to be cool on the first day of middle school and now I have a pimple," he whines, falling back on her bed when she's done.

Capping her toothpaste, she shrugs. "You're cool... just with a pimple. We're still biking together, right?"

"Of course!"

—

She feels the first prick of jealousy when Luke is dubbed 'the cutest boy of seventh grade' and all the girls start swarming him or asking her what he likes.

Well, he likes rock music and poking snails and her mom's pies. Does that help them make Luke their boyfriend? She doesn't think so!

"They're stealing my friend!" Julie grumbles to Flynn as they're both watching Thea make a move, or whatever that means.

"Luke isn't gonna stop being your friend," Flynn reassures. "But boys are dumb. So, I don't know."

Luke feels his first hit of jealousy at the eighth grade spring fling dance when he sees Nick asking Julie to dance during some sappy Ed Sheeran song. He thinks she'll say no, but to his baffled surprise, she says yes! To Nick! Why would anyone want to dance with Nick?! Luke swears the kid eats his own boogers.

"Why is she dancing with Nick and not with me?" he nags, standing beside Alex and Reggie as they're hoarding food.

Reggie grins. "Jealous?"

"Uh, no!"

"Sure."

—

It kind of gets awkward after that.

In the summer between eighth and ninth — aka, the start of freaking high school! — they both undergo major bouts of puberty.

Luke gets a growth spurt and constantly has aching knees, Julie graduates from a training bra to an actual bra because she suddenly has boobs and she's scared it'll change things.

Now, she also looks different from the guys. They'll still like her, right?

Julie swaps her glasses for contact lenses since it's easier and Luke buys his first guitar from mowing lawns all summer long.

Because of that, he lost a lot of his baby fat.

Suddenly, her best friend is kind of… attractive.

—

Luke gets his first girlfriend in freshman year and it isn't Julie and she hates how it comes as a surprise to her that… well… it isn't her. It's Thea, of all people. Guess that one move she made in seventh grade paid off.

According to Luke, they go on dates to the movies sometimes, or hang out at the skatepark, and kiss when no one's looking.

"I've kissed plenty of girls," Reggie boasts, noting his Bible summer camp experience. "Catch up, Luke."

"Me and Thea kiss a ton!" he exclaims, but it doesn't sound convincing. "Like, a lot!"

Alex and Julie share a disgusted look from across the cafeteria table. He came out as gay this year to them and Julie doesn't like girls, so these conversations are useless to them.

"Can we talk about something else?" she whines. "This is boring!"

Luke shrugs. "Pearl Jam brought out a new album."

The one statement diverts the conversation completely, much to her enjoyment, until Thea walks to their table and steals Luke from them.

Julie sees red.

Alex asks her if she likes Luke during a quiet moment.

"No," she mutters. "Not like that."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me?"

"No... not really."

—

They break up after three months and right then, Julie and Nick get together. He's sweet and kind and smart and cute and when he kisses her, he's soft and careful. She likes it. She feels safe around Nick.

He teaches her a bit of lacrosse, she teaches him how to make empanadas.

It's clear Luke doesn't like him though.

"He's so boring, Julie," he says. "I don't know what you see in him."

"What did you see in Thea?" she challenges him.

"She was cute," he shrugs, "and nice. And she's a good kisser."

She smiles, victorious, and crosses her arms. "There you go. Your explanation."

His face sours. "I don't believe he's a good kisser."

"Want to try for yourself?"

He rolls his eyes. "No. Whatever. Have fun on that date of yours," he mutters the last, grabbing his shoes and walking out her bedroom.

She's angry and distracted during the entire date and she hates herself for realising weeks later that Luke was right. Nick is boring.

Sweet, but boring.

She breaks up with him after three months — as long as Luke and Thea were together — and suddenly she understands why Luke behaved the way he did.

Why she behaved the way she did.

They're playing truth or dare in someone's basement at a birthday party, all carefully drinking from a can of cheap beer, when Carrie dares Luke to kiss Julie.

He kisses her… and then they keep kissing.

The group hollers when they don't separate after three seconds and go insane when his hand slips up her cheek and it prolongs to ten.

Their faces are red and awed when they pull back and the others in the circle look like they've won the Olympics.

"Talk?" Luke rasps.

"Yes."

He grabs her hand and pulls her out the circle, everyone ooh-ing and ah-ing, thinking they're gonna do something scandalous. They find themselves in an empty hallway. Luke lets go of her hand and starts nervously scratching at his neck.

"So, uh, that kiss, uh—"

"I liked it," she blurts. It's the biggest risk of her life, but she takes it anyway. "What, uh, did you think?"

"Yeah!" He rushes forward, sudden surge of excitement. "Yeah, I liked— I really liked it. I- I wanna kiss you again."

She smiles. "You do?"

He blushes. "Yeah."

"Okay," she giggles.

And then he's right there, cradling her cheeks while she's holding onto the hem of his t-shirt and it's sweet and warm and way different than when she kissed Nick. It's more.

She really likes him. She really really really likes Luke to an insane degree.

They talk and share little kisses on the couch for the entire night, giddy and dopey. Her heart is bursting! It may be one of the best moments of her young life.

—

"Hey," he grins, kissing her square on the lips as he meets her by her locker.

It's the start of senior year. Only a few more months until freedom and the beginning and end of milestones, but Luke's a constant.

To her, he'll be a constant forever.

"Hey," she smiles, grabbing his hand. "Ready to go?"

"Ready when you are."

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

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @willexx @pink-flame @constantly-singing @ourstarscollided

#juke #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #jatp fanfiction

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free-pancakes · 3 years

Note

Hey pancakes Ms. X here.. How are you doing?

I come here for the 5 words game prompt. The words are : chocolate, braids, cheeks, water, pony

Again I love you pancakes!

hello! per usual, i got carried away! i really enjoyed writing this one, I hope you like it :) levihan childhood/gradeschool AU!

“Let’s give our new classmate, a warm welcome!” All of the 2nd graders in the class stared up at the little boy standing at the front of the classroom, dark-haired bangs covering much of his face, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, arms almost invisible under the oversized t-shirt he wore.

“Miss Nanaba, you didn’t say what his name was!” One of the kids asked—she stared earnestly, her big, brown eyes magnified by her big, round glasses, brown hair tied into braided pig tails hugging her cheeks.

Nanaba smiled at her most curious student, and subsequently crouched down next to the boy, placing her encouragingly on his shoulder, and whispered into his ear. When she finished, he looked back to the floor, and quietly said, “My name is Levi Ackerman,” and quickly rushed to sit down at the open desk nearest to him.

Once the lunch bell rang, all of the kids ran out as soon as they were dismissed, Levi straggling behind. He walked outside, his eyes met with bright sunlight as he watched kids running around the playground, some sitting on the sidewalks and picnic tables opening up their lunches. Levi’s stomach rumbled as he watched his classmates pull out their meals—he looked away and walked over to the corner of the playground and sat alone, poking his fingers at the blades of grass to pass the time.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared over the grass in front of him.

“Hi, Levi!”

It was the kid who asked his name earlier.

“Can I sit with you?” She asked with a big grin on her face, missing teeth here and there.

Levi nodded, and she plopped down in the grass next to him, opening up her lunchbox.

“See this??” She pointed to one of her teeth, poking it to show Levi it was loose and wiggling around. “I’m about to lose my 3rd baby tooth! So my mom packed me a bunch of soft food so it wouldn’t hurt too chew!” She pulled out a sandwich, and opened her mouth to take a huge bite—but she stopped. She saw Levi’s grey eyes fixated on the sandwich in her hand.

“Did you finish your lunch already?”

Levi hesitated, and shook his head.

“…Did you pack a lunch at all?”

They had just moved to this town from far away, his mother and uncle had saved up to buy land for a farm. Kuchel was still at the old house packing up the last few things, and Kenny was busy tending to the livestock. In all the chaos, their fridge had run empty without his uncle realizing... or really caring for that matter. “Let the boy learn to fend for himself, Kuchel,” he always said, or whatever, Levi thought.

Levi looked away, until he felt a soft piece of bread poking at his arm. Hange held half her sandwich out towards him, smiling at him.

He shook his head, but Hange insisted. “Levi, you’re hungry!” So she pouted and gave him her best set of puppy-dog-eyes until he took it and began to eat. She insisted to share her peaches and a small chocolate pastry with him as well.

While they munched on their food together, Levi listened to Hange babble on and on about one of the stories they read in class today. Levi found himself chewing so slow just so he could hear everything she said.

“…and thats why I want to see a real live pony someday! They’re so cute!” Levi thought ponies were pretty gross, slobbering all over the place, but to each their own, he guessed.

Two weeks passed, and Hange had managed to take extra food from home for Levi, until he was finally able to bring a lunch—she had never questioned why he didn’t have one for oall that time—but she noticed how much he loved the chocolate pastries her mother made, so she kept sharing those with him anyway.

They continued to eat together everyday for most of the school year, Levi always wanting to listen about the newest thing Hange was raving about, and makingsure he always had an extra napkin to wipe off Hange’s inevitably crumb-ridden and sticky cheeks whenever she had a PB&J sandwiches in her lunchbox.

——

Months passed, and winter came, snow falling calmly outside. Today was the day Levi had planned to thank Hange for everything—the food… and most importantly: for being his first friend. Kenny was planned to come home late today, and he’d be able to surprise Hange without getting in trouble. When the school bell rang at the end of the day, Levi turned to Hange. She smiled as she wrapped her big yellow scarf around her neck. The two began to walk together, just a quick 15 minute walk back to Levi’s home.

“Wow, Levi! I can’t believe you’re taking me on an adventure!” She giggled as she pointed out all the wildflowers on the side of the road, talking about the different birds that flew overhead. Levi was so excited, he couldn’t even pay attention to what Hange was going on about. Once they were outside his house, he asked Hange if he could use her scarf to blindfold her, and she nodded ecstatically nearly jumping up and down as Levi tied it comfortably over her glasses. He took her hand, the feel of her mittens soft in his palm, his heart feeling warm as he gripped, a smile nearly appearing on his face. He then led her back to the stables behind his house, lifting their knees up high with every step through the snow.

They walked through the door, met with warmth from the heaters inside. She giggled as he placed a bucket in her hands—“Careful, don’t let the water spill,” he said. Levi ran behind her, and began to guide her forward, and he pushed her arms up to hold the bucket slightly above her head.

The sound of slurping began, Hange struggling to hold the bucket still, and laughed the entire time.

Levi then slowly untied her scar from over her eyes, and she stared straight into the eyes of a beautiful, brown pony, it’s main soft and silky draping over the side of it’s face, a huge pink tongue lapping up the water in her hands.

Hange’s eyes grew big and nearly sparkled as her her jaw dropped in awe as she stared and the pony. Levi couldn’t help but stare at Hange, both shocked to see her speechless for once, and excited to see her so happy.

After some time, she put the bucket down. And suddenly, Levi felt her arms wrap around him tight, her cheek squishing up against his, and he felt her tears run down between them.

“This was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, Levi,” she whispered as she hugged him tighter. Levi closed his eyes and smiled, until he heard footsteps—a huge shadow now lingering above them.

“Now what do we have here?”

Levi let go of Hange and hid her behind him.

“Come on now, nephew. No need to do that, I don’t bite!”

He crouched down to their height—“And what’s your name, little one?”

Levi frowned and pushed against Hange. “You dont have to—“

“H-Hange! My name’s Hange!” She said.

“I saw that the pony here really likes you,” Kenny said.

“H-He does?!” Hange exclaimed, her eyes lit up brightly.

“Hange, would you like to pet him?” Kenny asked, eliciting an enthusiastic nod from Hange. He picked her up and held her close to the pony’s head, and it neighed happily as Hange pushed her hand through its mane, giggling at how soft it felt under her fingers. Kenny peered down at Levi whose eyes were fixated on Hange—shocked as he had never seen his nephew smile before.

“Hey Hange, how would you like to have dinner with us? Levi’s mother is coming home soon and was going to cook us something special!”

Hange smiled, “I think I’d have to call and ask my mom first!” Kenny smiled and let her down, telling her to go right inside the house, and a phone was there in the kitchen for her to use. Hange smiled and thanked Kenny, and ran inside, waving back at Levi.

Kenny now alone with Levi, turned back to see him scowling up at him.

“Ya better be thanking me, kid.” Kenny snarled. “And don’t act so surprised, I can be nice when I feel like it!” He turned towards the stable door, and without turning around, Kenny whispered:

“But make sure you keep her around alright? She seems like a good friend for you.”

As he left, Levi stood frozen in place. He didn’t know what to feel, it might have been the first time his uncle had ever said something nice to him. But he quickly shook himself out of it—if anything, it meant he could invite Hange over more, and that made his heart do leaps in his chest.

#levihan #levihan fanfic #gradeschool AU #levi ackerman #levi x hanji #hange zoe #kenny ackerman #drabble

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

your eyes still shined, like pretty lights — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— request by anon: ooh how about some childhood best friends to lovers with mikasa? also based from taylor swift’s mary’s song :)

— warnings: none? just too much fluff and a hint of angst :))

— summary: you never knew that being childhood best friends with mikasa would lead to you finding forever within her gray eyes.

— word count: 6.3k words

— author’s notes: i am so happy that this is my first request !! thank you for requesting this and i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it. i never knew writing mikasa would evoke feelings i was so familiar with back when there were face to face interactions with people. i will be forever grateful for the request !! you are a gem.

i reposted this bc it seems like this didn’t appear in the tags :(( i hope this works now :”((

> just two kids, you and i

The scent of apple pies drifted across the Ackerman household, ensnaring the girl of black locks and starlit eyes inside her room on the second floor. It wasn’t a regular day in their neighborhood. For starters, there was a moving truck parked at the house beside them, men shouting for the furniture to be lugged inside the walls of the empty home one by one, and the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by what was ensuing in the neighboring house of the Ackerman’s. Mikasa, the only daughter of the household, wanted to satisfy her curiosity, which flared, even more, when her mother baked one of her special apple pies. Throwing away the homework her first-grade teacher gave them, the young girl padded across her room, opened the door with a bang, and ran towards the kitchen in an excited rush.

With wide eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the edge of the countertop. There was flour everywhere, or was it powdered sugar? Mikasa will never know unless she will have one taste of it. Just a little taste. And so she carefully reached out one arm to swipe the white ingredient off the counter.

“Mika, don’t even think about it.”

Mikasa froze in her tracks, looking up to meet her mother’s eyes. “But I wanted to know if this is powdered sugar.”

The older woman smiled endearingly at her daughter. “You could’ve just asked, you know? Besides, I think these apple pies are much better than the powdered sugar.” She turned to get one of the pies from the oven with her mittens, then facing Mikasa with a proud smile. “So what do you think? Will our new neighbors love it?”

“Everybody loves your pies, Mom.”

A laugh came from the woman’s lips, letting the delicacies cool down before putting them in a box for their neighbors to enjoy. What her daughter said was true. Every time the light of the Ackerman household baked treats for the neighborhood, she would always receive remarks that she needed to open her bakery, saying that every single one of her treats was divine. She wanted to open her bakery, even to the point of helping out one of her nephews who was starting to have a tea shop as a dream. Her daydreams were interrupted when she saw something move in her peripheral vision. Mikasa was once again reaching out to swipe the caramel apple toppings. “Mika, you will have your share later. For now, we’ll have to be patient, okay?”

The little girl pursed her lips in annoyance. She was getting tired of standing on her tiptoes anyway. She had nothing else to do — she ditched her homework, she was told to wait before eating the dessert, and she was bored out of her mind. The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes, all spent by Mikasa thinking hard on what interesting thing she should be focusing her attention on.

“You know, our new neighbors have a little girl your age, why don’t you introduce yourself to her?”

That was the only catalyst for little Mikasa to make her way to her room, getting the toys she wanted to show, as she brightened at the thought of making new friends. In her elementary school, nobody wanted to be friends with her, knowing that she was known for being blunt and introverted. She was trying her hardest but nobody lasted longer than a few months — they always found a new circle of kids to share their stories with and Mikasa will be left alone again. Her older cousin, Levi, always teased her (in the least condescending way possible) that she should get rid of that permanent frown on her face (like he was one to talk). But it was never Mikasa’s fault that their classroom was always stuffy, with the air conditioner not functioning well. Mikasa doesn’t like being cooped up in a room, sweaty because of the humidity. The little girl rather preferred the coolness of the library, which the other kids didn’t like at all. They wanted to have fun and run around the school’s playground the whole hour of their recess and lunch breaks.

So now, it was an understatement that Mikasa was excited. She even brought some of her toys with her to share with her new neighbor. She hoped the girl liked toy soldiers (it was a gift from Levi on her birthday last year).

The little girl her mother was talking about was sitting on the front porch swing bench.

You were smaller than she and Mikasa wondered how you ever sat in the high swing. Your head was hung down and it looked like you were coloring something, with the way your hands gripped the red crayon. The black-haired girl wanted to call out to you but she doesn’t even know your name. Taking a deep breath, the little girl of gray eyes mustered up her courage and tried quelling the pitter-patter of her heart.

Why was it beating so fast?

The moment she stepped on the lawn of the house next door, Mikasa was sure she was seeing the constellations in your eyes when you looked up to meet her expectant stare.

> take me back to the house in the backyard tree

Mikasa was eight when she had this crazy idea inside her head.

In the two years that the two of you were friends, you always talked about a little safe haven tucked from the eyes of the world. A place where the two of you can be yourselves. A place where magic can happen even in the smallest space. Your eyes would light up blindingly when you talked about the things you will put inside your safe space, Mikasa matching your starry eyes with her own, staring at you silently as you poured out your beautiful dreams to her. The last time the two of you had a sleepover, you were chattering about a hidden library that only opens at certain times at night. The next second, you were off narrating how the stars were the most amazing things that gave you comfort on nights where you miss one of your parents because they were working so late. Then, you were relaying the possibilities of having a little art studio where you’re not afraid of drawing one of your prompts.

Mikasa let you ramble with a smile on her face. She was always a listener, afraid that the shine in your eyes would die down when she would interrupt — you just look so beautiful. However, there were times where you asked her things like her hobbies and likes, almost as if you were listing them down in an imaginary notebook in your head, and it will always catch Mikasa off-guard. Stutters accompanied her answers to your questions, not used to being the center of attention when it should be you. You were just too bright and full of sunshine. When Mikasa mentioned this to you, you only grinned, “Then you’ll be my Moon, Mika. I’ll let you glimmer through the night.”

She never slept that night, staring at the moon through her open window while thinking about your words.

Now, her mission led her to her father’s study, face set in adorable determination.

“Mika? What brings you here?” Her father placed his hands on her waist, lifting her until she was situated on his lap. His focus immediately went to his laptop on his desk. Mikasa’s eyes went from her father’s face to the gadget’s screen. She knew her father’s job was something hard and fun at the same time but looking at what was displayed on the screen, she instantly thought that drawing houses was harder than it looks. There were lines that she never knew were supposed to be there, a sprinkling of equations not suited for primary school was scattered around the blueprint, making Mikasa dizzy enough to place a hand on her forehead. “Complicated, isn’t it?” Her dad asked her in amusement. “This is what your Dad does for a living, Mika.”

“You like drawing houses, right?” Mikasa looked up at her father, gray eyes twinkling.

Her father hummed, ruffling her hair before squinting at his laptop. “Yes, I do.”

“We have a big tree in the backyard, right?”

The man furrowed his brows. He looked down at his daughter who was still in a daze in front of his laptop’s screen. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to miss, you know?”

Gray eyes matched his own as Mikasa lifted her head and squeezed her hands on her lap. “How about building a treehouse in our backyard?”

Her father’s sputter was the only thing she received as a reply but that didn’t stop Mikasa from smiling smugly, your haven becoming possible by the minute.

And nothing can compare to your star-struck face the moment you laid your eyes on your little castle with Mikasa months after it was finished.

The midnight-haired girl swore she once again saw the entire cosmos in your irises, sending her heart in a confusing tangle of beats.

> said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me (you never did)

Mikasa was eleven when she realized that she will do anything for your happiness.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for your and Mikasa’s many traditions: watch the movies the two of you borrowed from the rental shop downtown, snack on Mikasa’s treats and your mom’s sandwiches, immerse yourselves in video games until dinner was called. It was a celebration for surviving the end of the week — something that kept the two of your going. Your mom never lets you watch television throughout the week, the time was only spent studying and focusing on academics, which must be why you were one of the top students in your primary school. Fridays were your breathers, it reminded you that there was still happiness lingering after a week of pouring everything to not disappoint your parents. And you were happy that you get to spend this with Mikasa of all people.

The movies you two watched were all romantic comedies that your mothers suggested. You were a crying mess while Mikasa only stared at the television with a blank face. She never understood how everything in the movie moved you so much when it was just a pair of people expressing how much they meant to each other. You have that in your life — your parents, your two friends who you recently introduced to her, your dog, and her. Mikasa has always told you how much you meant to her through the littlest of things, the animated little girl when you were kids becoming a soft-spoken pubescent that supported you with little actions. And now, Mikasa didn’t want to see you cry because it didn’t sit right with her. You should be smiling because that’s when you were the most beautiful for her.

“Here, figured the movie would make you cry,” the black-haired girl told you, pushing the box of tissues in your direction.

You sniffed, lips pursed and wobbly. You took out some tissues from the box and proceeded to blow your nose, Mikasa’s hand forming a pattern of soothing circles on your back. “They died together. It was so bittersweet.”

Mikasa thoughtfully stared at your hands that were fiddling with the box of tissues. “At least she remembered him.” She lifted her eyes to meet your teary ones, breath hitching and thoughts forgotten as she blinked at how the lights from the television made your irises have silver flakes on them. Looking away without moving her head, Mikasa cleared her throat. “But they can still do everything as long as they love each other. I guess it’s not a sad ending, it’s not a happy one, either. I think it’s fitting for the two of them.” She carefully reached out a hand and wiped away a stray tear at the corner of your eye, lingering her palm against your cheek. “But if the movie made you cry for varying reasons, it means you understand their feelings, of the characters, I mean. Plus, your tear ducts are still functioning.”

A bubble of giggles came from you. You stared at her with soft eyes that pinched Mikasa’s chest. “What would I do without you, Mika?”

“Probably die in a ditch or something.”

“Hey!” You playfully pushed her side, Mikasa’s slight chuckles tickling your ears. “That’s mean. I never knew our friendship could amount to a thing such as bullying.”

She ruffled your hair with a small smile. “It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon experience.” The black-haired girl then turned around, rummaging for something besides the box of movies you rented for the rest of the day. Two video games were presented in front of you with a faux look of seriousness painting your best friend’s face. “Now, how about we play some games to alleviate the sad atmosphere brought by the movie we just watched?”

“You’re on.”

A few rounds of racing games later and you were becoming agitated. Mikasa always won against you at any type of game you two dedicated your time on. At the moment, you were ranked second, meters away from Mikasa’s selected car model. You were always brushing off your poor gaming and strategic skills, blaming your loss on the equipment you picked, saying that the stats are the absolute worst because Mikasa always took the best-looking car in the choices. All of the cars present in the racing game were all good and it depends on the gamer on how they’ll manage with the listed specs. You maneuvered your red racing car to one of the shortcut routes, your side of the screen displaying a forest terrain that neither of you ever ventured in before. You can see Mikasa glancing at you from the corner of your vision, making you speed up, only for you to be thrown off course by some traps plugged in by the developers. There was a standby screen flashing in front of you, not knowing how Mikasa slowed her car.

When the countdown finished, your car was able to move again and this time, you tried to take it slow since Mikasa might have won the game by now. To your surprise, your name was the one displayed on the screen instead of your best friend. She was awarded third place instead of the second when you could’ve sworn she was just a few meters from the finish line. You looked at her curiously, wondering what happened.

She glanced at you before looking down on her controller thoughtfully. “I guess I messed up, too. I thought there are no traps in front of the finish line but it turns out a bomb was implanted at the side of the track.”

There were no traps in front of the finish line and your giddy smile was picture perfect as you celebrated your first win against Mikasa.

> i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

Mikasa was fourteen when she realized that her heart was beating for you, something that wasn’t appropriate between best friends.

“Okay, for this small party, we’ll be playing Truth or Dare!” Connie exclaimed, the smell of his father’s stash of beer coming out of his mouth.

Your little world with Mikasa extended and created a universe with unlikely people that you never imagined would be your friends.

It all started with Armin and Eren, the two boys who became your friends in primary school. Armin was one of the smartest people in your middle school, already getting a sure spot in your town’s high school, being the candidate for valedictorian. Meanwhile, Eren was one of the members of the school’s soccer team, which in turn brought along his teammates, Reiner and Jean. The latter person in Eren’s little circle in his soccer team claimed that he and his two friends, Sasha and Connie, were a package deal. It was funny because Sasha was befriended by you and Mikasa way before the two of you knew she had some connection with the soccer player. The brown-haired girl was your seatmate in History. When you heard her stomach grumble (the subject was set before lunchtime and everyone was practically hungry after the morning hours), you offered your bar of chocolate to her. There you found your other best friend, her hugs and gushes of ‘I love yous’ made the first interaction unforgettable.

The small party held in Connie’s house was thrown because you were all graduating the following week. The short boy was ecstatic while planning out the mini-event, even threatening to kick out Sasha when she became hungry while preparing the snacks. Since the party was not limited to your friend group, Reiner invited some of his friends — Annie, Bertholdt, and Ymir. Connie was overjoyed that he was finally getting popular, to which Ymir shut down, saying that she needed the booze (she fought with Historia, her on-off girlfriend, leading to their nth break-up).

“Ugh, man,” Eren groaned. “Do you even remember what happened the last time we played Truth or Dare?”

Jean snorted. “Nobody asked you to do the dare, idiot. You could always take the shot.”

“Well, I don’t want to smell like booze when I go home, horse face. Mom’s going to kill me.”

“Who in their right mind would jump into the freezing lake naked then, Eren?”

You chuckled, remembering how Eren talked your ear off when he went home after his retreat with the soccer team. He claimed that his dick was numb to the point that he couldn’t feel anything while jerking off. Mikasa had to cover your ears while he went to that part and Armin was begging for the brown-haired boy to stop tainting his mind.

“Okay, can you guys stop arguing for just one minute?” Sasha pleaded through a mouthful of hash browns. “I’ll start spinning the bottle now!”

The game started quite well. Armin had to perform a dance number in front of all of you because Sasha wanted to let everyone know how awesome Armin was at dancing. Jean chose truth and was asked who he found hot among the girls his year. (Nobody missed his subtle glance at Mikasa, who was focused on the drink in her glass.) Reiner was asked who he last hooked up with and surprisingly, he downed a shot instead of answering. When Sasha chose dare, Reiner thought it was a good idea to witness the girl put as many marshmallows in her mouth without stopping. (Sasha managed to empty the bag.) Annie was dared to text her crush and the next second, Armin’s phone dinged with an incoming message. You and Sasha cooed at the blonde boy’s burning face. Mikasa also chose truth and drank her shot when she was asked by Annie about the person she likes. (Jean perked at this but quickly deflated when the black-haired girl held no hesitation in drinking the shot.)

Then, the bottle landed on you.

Your eyes met with Mikasa, knowing that she will be the one asking the infamous question of ‘truth or dare?’

“Dare.”

Sasha and Connie ooh’d at the background.

“I dare you to kiss the person you’re thinking about a lot.”

It was a masked question. Mikasa wanted to ask you about your recent crush but she had to be conspicuous about it. Of course, she noticed how you and Eren became close these days. Always sitting with each other during lunch and how the green-eyed boy always offered his jacket whenever you felt cold. She had to confirm it. She didn’t want Armin to pick up on her nerves every time she witnessed how Eren looked at you like you placed the stars in the sky. She was only worried for you since Eren had the most experience when it comes to dating among the four of you, having only dated one person the whole duration of middle school.

However, Mikasa didn’t expect you to place a hand on her cheek, your face inches from hers.

The entire circle became silent, jaws dropped at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. Mikasa didn’t pay them any attention. Her eyes were wide while yours were hesitantly trained on her lips. She didn’t register that you whispered along the lines of only kissing her cheek. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Her face was burning with a beautiful shade of rouge. Her mind was muddled, panicking that you were so close to her. Mikasa remembered the times you left her breathless. They were unexpected moments that only occurred in a mundane situation but it was you. You were different from the people in Connie’s house right now. You were a force to be reckoned with, always interrupting Mikasa’s focus during class because you were there in her thoughts. You were a sight to behold, having a fair share of admirers, one of them being Mikasa, to which she was never aware until now. You were everything held tightly in a small body that fit exactly against Mikasa's when the two of you hug after a bad day.

You were so beautiful.

But Mikasa couldn’t handle the continuous pounding of her heart.

She turned around and immediately darted to the bathroom, leaving you frozen along with your gawking friends.

Oh, how Mikasa regretted running away the moment the door was flat on her back.

> take me back to the time we had our very first fight

Mikasa was eighteen when she heard the words she dreamed of coming from your lips.

“Why don’t you go back to Eren?” Mikasa grumbled, her eyes glaring at the road in front of her, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why would you even go home with me? He was offering to drive you back and you’re here sitting in my car.”

There was no reason why she was being angry right now. The past years in high school were pure torture for Mikasa and the soccer game that happened hours prior was the cherry on top of the sundae. When their school’s soccer team won at the final game of the seniors, she had to watch Eren pick you up, laughing while twirling you around. Everybody knew how much Eren liked you since he wasn’t afraid of expressing his feelings to a crowd of people. However, even with Eren’s efforts of wooing you, you always brushed it off, saying that he is still one of your best friends. There was no denying that Eren was courting you with the whole school as the witness. It was like a love story waiting to hit its climax — two childhood friends intertwining their fates together until they found forever with each other.

Mikasa had to suppress a groan at the thought. Maybe she watched too many romance movies to think straight at the moment. She honked the horn too loudly, making you flinch in the passenger seat. Her gray eyes were a raging storm and even the biker at the side of the street wasn’t safe as she turned her head to the window, shouting, “Hey, there’s a bike lane for a reason!”

“Mika, calm down,” you pleaded.

She scoffed in disbelief, remaining silent even though you were expecting to hear her answer.

“Why are you so angry right now? I don’t know how to fix this if you’re going to be so quiet over it.”

The car stopped in front of your house and you didn’t even notice how Mikasa practically broke the speed limit. It was a good thing there weren’t any cops doing their patrols on your side of town. Now that there was finally time for you to ask her questions, you turned to face her. You pursed your lips at the sight of her stony visage, face still so beautiful that it made your sketches of her look like nothing.

Mikasa has been ignoring you the past few weeks. You noticed that it was only when Eren was around. You looked away at the thought, heart-pounding that maybe Mikasa finally realized her feelings for the green-eyed boy. You never fail to notice how she was constantly hovering around the boy, reminding him of the schoolwork he was missing or his forgotten lunch. It always squeezed your chest too hard.

You tried reaching for her hand, only to be swatted away. “Mika,” you whispered brokenly.

“Do you like Eren?”

Oh, so that was it.

You schooled your expression in a blank one, licking your lips in nervousness. She wanted to make sure there was nothing between you and Eren so that she can finally tell him her feelings. “Why are you asking that?”

“Stop answering my questions with another question.”

You had enough of this. “Then what do you want me to say?”

Mikasa threw her hands up in the air, shrugging her shoulders in disbelief. “I don’t know! Your honest answer, I guess. It seems to me like you do like him. With you, all cuddled up with that long-haired idiot every single day. Is it the long hair? Do you like people with long hair? If that’s the case, I’ll grow my hair! Just give me a few years at most.”

You looked at her in confusion and frustration. “What are you talking about, Mikasa?”

She flinched. You never called her by her full first name. It was always Mika for you. She was always Mika for you. You were the only one allowed to call her that aside from her parents. Mikasa turned abruptly, taking you by surprise as she placed both of her hands on your arms, firmly grasping them to make you meet her desperate eyes. “I’m just making sure that you don’t like him because...” She faltered, not knowing what to say next. Is she even confessing to you right now? Years of pent-up feelings beginning to rise and overflow because of the stars gradually appearing in your eyes. Her mouth was running on its own and she was beginning to feel the shame bubbling in her stomach.

“Because … Eren is not the only one who looks at you like you placed the stars in the sky. He’s not the only one wanting to keep you warm on a cold day. He’s not the only one experiencing euphoria whenever you’re around.” She blinked away the tears building in her eyes.

“He’s not the only one in love with you.”

“You are so dense, you know?”

“What?”

Mikasa reeled back but your hands finding their way on top of hers stopped her from backing away any further. Now, you were the one looking at her like she created the entire universe in front of your eyes. You were looking at her like she’s the first snowflake making its way on top of your nose. You were looking at her like those times you were inside your treehouse, under the fairy lights hung on the walls. You were looking at her as if she was euphoria personified. Because she is. Mikasa is so breathtakingly ethereal, your surroundings becoming more transparent by the minute as you focused on her. Gently transferring your hands on her cheeks, you pulled you close until both of your foreheads were tenderly pressed against one another.

“It’s you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“It has always been you, Mikasa Ackerman. Since that day you rejected my kiss when we were fourteen.”

Tears became more prominent in both of your eyes.

“Not Eren or anybody who was rumored to be going out with me.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Mikasa opened her eyes, revealing the entire cosmos you adored.

“I love you and only you.”

It’s not a dream, the two of you sharing your first kiss that was more than what the movies described.

> they never believed we'd really fall in love

Mikasa was twenty when she had the courage of telling the entire world you’re the love of her life.

“Oh, my God, I knew it!” Sasha screeched inside the café you and Mikasa chose to have your group study session. Most eyes inside the café turned to your table since Sasha planted her hands on your table with enough force to attract attention. You laughed nervously and apologized to some of the people inside the café but the brown-haired girl still showed no signs of sitting down. You can see Mikasa placing a hand on her forehead, sighing at the third member of your trio. Sasha, however, was experiencing the milestone of a lifetime. She flickered her gaze between you and your girlfriend, eyes sparkling in obvious excitement and adoration. “And thank God you two finally got together! I had to endure Mikasa moping around during high school.”

“We are dating for two years now,” Mikasa dryly stated. “We didn’t get together recently.”

You placed a gentle hand on hers, smiling at the black-haired girl before turning to Sasha. “We tried keeping our relationship a secret for two years but judging from your first statement, it seems like we couldn’t conceal it that well.”

Sasha finally sat down, picking up her fork with some unattended carbonara on her plate. “I had a hunch. Well, not only me, Connie and I. Ever since I got to know you, [Name], I always admired your friendship with our Mikasa here.” She pointed her fork at you and Mikasa. “Yes, Mikasa treated all her friends in some special way. For me, she tells me not to eat too much.” Mikasa eyed Sasha’s plates of lunch. “For Armin, she tends to be gentler, I mean, you know Armin, softest boy on the planet. For Eren, she’s like his mother.”

“Somebody has to do it.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, making you laugh. “He never listens to Carla any more.”

“But for you, missy,” the brown-haired girl leaned forward with a teasing smirk, “Mikasa becomes all of these. Who would’ve ever thought that that childhood friend story circulating between you and Eren became you and Mikasa instead?” She leaned back and shrugged. “I never liked Eren for you anyways.”

“Same,” the black-haired girl simply stated, taking a bite of her pizza before offering you some. “I heard you wanted this café’s pizza.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a bite of the pizza Mikasa was holding in front of you. “Annie’s right, the pizza in this restaurant tastes amazing.” You felt your girlfriend’s thumb brushing at the corner of your lips, wiping the pizza sauce smeared there.

The brown-haired girl sitting in front of you two squealed with hands covering her mouth. “You two are so cute together!” Yours and Mikasa’s face flushed, making Sasha gush again. The gray-eyed girl sighed deeply, placing her head on your shoulder to cover her red face, making you laugh at how adorable your partner is. “Wait, have you talked about this to your parents?”

You and Mikasa looked at each other, that Thanksgiving dinner flashing through your minds at the moment.

You were supposed to be enjoying the scrumptious feast your and Mikasa’s mothers prepared but you and your girlfriend were too stiff to participate in the casual talk flittering the table. The previous night, Mikasa opened the idea of telling your parents that you were dating each other. At first, you disagreed because you have seen how this would affect Mikasa. There was a time where some old woman looked at you two while you were on a date, yelling that you two should break up and find some man instead of finding comfort with the same sex. The black-haired girl nearly broke down when you arrived at your shared apartment and you reassured her that their opinions shouldn’t matter as long as you have each other. But now, these are your parents, of course, their perception of your relationship will always matter. Those worries soon vanished when your fathers rejoiced, the negative thoughts replaced with tears of relief rolling down on your and Mikasa’s cheeks.

“It’s about time, you know,” your dad smiled.

“We were supposed to place a bet but we were scolded,” Mikasa’s father sheepishly admitted.

“You shouldn’t bet on the girls’ relationship!” Mikasa’s mother replied, her playful expression turned soft when she turned to you two. “Don’t ever think we would go against this. We have been watching you two grow up and we always knew that there was a possibility that you’ll come into terms with your feelings for one another.”

Your mom perked up with glee visible on her face. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You shared a laugh with the love of your life. “They’re planning a wedding as we speak.”

“Make me one of your bridesmaids please!”

“I think you’re suited to be [Name]’s maid of honor instead.”

“Hell yeah!”

> we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

Mikasa was twenty-three when she knew you are the constant in her life.

Graduation was only a few months ago and you have never felt so happy in your life. Gone were the days slumped in front of your laptop way past midnight trying to perfect your thesis papers. Gone was the day where caffeine was the only thing keeping you going during exams. Gone were the days you had laboratory periods that span the whole half of the day. All the stress was piling up on your shoulders the past four years, molding themselves in a huge ball that made you think you carried the entire world as Atlas did. Now you got your degree and you were ready to settle with the person driving the car with ease along the road leading to your neighborhood. As you stared at her side profile, you smiled, knowing that she has been in every part of your life, in your downtimes and zeniths brought by your achievements. You vaguely remembered how the car stopped in front of Mikasa’s house, the two of you immediately making your way towards their backyard.

Years of care were seen in her mother’s flower and vegetable garden but the only thing that took your breath away was the treehouse she surprised you with when you were both eleven. You blinked at the pristine condition of the small castle in the canopy of green, your smile pulling on the corners of your lips. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” A hand made its way on the small of your back, its warmth seeping through your French chiffon floral dress. You looked up at Mikasa, her casual ensemble of her gray suit and white shirt sending your heart in a frenzy. You pulled on her collar, your lips meeting hers in a slow dance, her hand on your back transferring around your waist.

When you pulled away, Mikasa placed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your face. “Let’s visit our castle, shall we?”

The inside of the treehouse was still the same as ever. Aside from the thick layer of dust covering every surface of the small abode, it still gave the same feeling when you first laid your eyes on it. The knick-knacks you and Mikasa placed were still in the same position as you left them. The star projector you brought when you were thirteen was placed in the middle of the treehouse. You made your way to it and a sea of stars filled the crevices of the treehouse after gently turning it on. A myriad of purples and blues painted themselves on the ceiling, swirls of galaxies accompanied the constellation map you knew by heart when you were a kid. You faced Mikasa, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of her kneeling on one knee on the dusty floor. The first thought coming to your mind was how the dust would cling to her gray slacks. But that quickly erased itself when Mikasa tenderly presented a small velvet box.

“You made me believe in love, magic, myself, and the universe,” Mikasa whispered things meant for your ears only. “The way you love me and the way I look at you makes life worth living. Every single minute I’ve spent with you, I wanted to stop time to preserve it in my memory. I wanted to swim in your divine because I swear, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I promise to give you everything to make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine no matter how many years go by. You deserve the very best, someone who will back you up without limits, let you grow without borders, and love you without end. So, [Name],” she opened the small box, revealing the most beautiful piece of jewelry — a golden band with a sparkling diamond at the center of smaller gems shaped like stars, at the sides of the huge gem were crescent moons, “will you let me be the one?”

You were crying now, you never thought that this would happen.

The woman of your dreams was kneeling in front of you and there was only one answer that will seal your fate with hers.

“Yes, Mikasa, always and forever.”

> we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

Mikasa was twenty-five when she wanted a small family with you.

“How about using Eren?”

“Mika, why would you suggest that!”

“I mean, he has the hots for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re selling me to one of our friends.”

“Don’t leave my side. Here’s a kiss as an apology.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mika.”

“And I love you, too.” Mikasa paused, turning the laptop to you as she opened the tab for one website she found. “How about adopting a toddler?”

You looked at a website displaying one of the orphanages in the city, chest filled with butterflies at the next step in your life with Mikasa.

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Mika.”

“I think so, too, Mrs. Ackerman.”

#aot #new aot writing blog #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #mikasa #mikasa ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #rorywrites

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Sakura

(Part Two)

One - Two

genre : Chaptered, Fluff

pairing : childhood friends: soccer player! Nakamoto Yuta x single mom! Reader (Y/N)

word count : 2.3k words

You’ll always be his Sakura.

taglist : @ailoveyuta @loona-4-eva @aiforyuu @2-3-t-i @cosmiclatte28 @url-lindo-sexy @nuoyipeach @aaasteroidsky @readers-posts @delightfultacobread @bby-kji9 @a-bts-world @mel-yjh @yeolsechanhun @yutazen01

It was the summer before his third grade when his dad announced that they will be moving to Seoul because of a business opportunity. The then eight-year-old Yuta hated that he had to leave his friends just because he can't stay in Japan. He hated that he had to transfer schools and learn a new language. Why do they have to move to another country? Why not move to another city instead?

When the teacher introduced him to the class of third graders, he just glared at his Korean classmates who were looking at him in wonder. He doesn't want to be friends with them. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to learn a new language. He's Japanese, why would he speak Korean? The teacher told him - or at least that was what he understood - to sit on a vacant chair at the back of the class. His classmates were staring at him. He's the new guy, it's normal. But he hated the attention.

It was lunch when he decided to eat on the school's rooftop. He wasn't surprised that it was locked but a girl was drawing on the door of the rooftop. Isn't she in his class? The girl seated in front of him? A crayon drawing of stick figures made him curious, what is that?

A certain symbol caught his attention, a straight line with a beak-like image and wings at the end held by a stickman he believed is a girl because of the triangular picture below her body. "Sakura?" He asked and the girl jolted in surprise, quickly hiding what she was doing. "Cardcaptor Sakura?"

The girl was wide-eyed, looked at her drawing then at him. He noticed how her eyes twinkle at that even if the area isn't well-lit. Or is it because she just cried? "You're that Japanese guy." She said in Korean and he only caught the words 'Japanese' and 'guy' so she's probably referring to him. "Do you know Cardcaptor Sakura?" He only nodded. It is a hit in Japan, everyone knows Sakura. "I like Cardcaptor Sakura!" She exclaimed with a bright smile.

That was the first time he saw that girl who loves Sakura. The first classmate who talked to him as if they spoke the same language. He remembered handing her a comic of her favorite cartoons the next day and she introduced herself as Y/N, even asking him along the lines of 'Can you teach me Japanese?' and 'Do you want to be friends with me?'

His initial plan of not knowing Korean or not talking to people backfired. He wanted to have a real conversation with this Sakura girl. His first Korean friend.

Yuta would remember teaching her hiragana every lunchtime, on their own place by the door of the rooftop and she would teach him hangul in exchange. Before class, she would tell him stories about what happened to Sakura from the episode yesterday as if he didn't watch the same show. After class, they would spend some time in the playground waiting for her mom to pick her up.

She was also the person who encouraged him to try out for the soccer team. Unlike in Japan, soccer isn't a required PE in Korea so his classmates were amazed that he knew how to play soccer, even defeating some older kids. "Yuta, sugoi!" She exclaimed that made him smile, a real genuine smile he never showed to everyone. "You're handsome when you smile. You should smile more often." It was her who made him smile more. Just because he wanted her to call him handsome once again.

In fourth grade, the two were so close that she spent time in their home and him on hers. Sometimes she would even sleep at their place when her mom has to stay all night in the hospital. He found out that she doesn't have a dad, he left them when she's just a baby and that she would always cry in her sleep looking for her dad. Kids weren't very welcoming with the idea of a broken family either and he would often see her crying on the stairs to the rooftop.

And now, she's the one who has children. A mom. He never imagined that he will see her as a mom in the future. He wondered if she still cries for her dad. He wonders if she still knew how to speak or write Japanese. He wonders if she could call him 'handsome' again.

Yuta promised that he wouldn't stay that long in Korea, he wanted to leave as soon as the wedding was over and he had every reason why. But Mark Lee, his secretary, thinks that he needs to stay for a couple more days and think of it as a vacation before the big soccer leagues happen.

"Your alma mater is inviting you to teach the soccer club," Mark noted as he stared at the email by the administration of his former elementary school. The place where he honed his soccer playing skills.

The place where he met her.

The younger guy was surprised when the soccer player agreed to the said invitation. Even forcing him to do it today before he changes his mind. Luckily, he doesn't have any schedules that day.

The school changed a lot. Well, it's been years since he last visited the place. A lot of buildings surrounded the soccer field and he watched how elementary kids played. They look so small or is it because he's used to watching the adults play? The principal greeted him and introduced him to the soccer coach who looked so cocky. But instead of heading to the soccer field, he asked the principal if he could look upstairs.

His feet dragged him to the staircase to the rooftop. Their meeting place. The door changed color, erasing her drawing that they maintained for years. From the stick figures to an actual 2D drawing of Sakura and Syaoran.

He wished he could just erase his memory of her as well. The same way as the drawings are erased.

It was free period when he went down to the classrooms and saw little kids in the school's hallway. Are they this small? "It's because you don't have a dad." He heard a child say and saw that it's a huge kid, probably a third-grader, in his jersey. "The soccer team doesn't accept kids who don't have dads." Well, elementary didn't change.

When his gaze caught the smaller boy he's talking to, a sudden feeling of recognition hit him. Jae. Y/N's son. "My dad lives abroad." He nodded, he's correct about that.

"Dads should watch your soccer games." The older kid claimed, making Yuta shake his head. Are children’s behavior like this? Well, he really should refrain from making one of his own. "Accept it, Jae. You can never be good for the soccer team."

"Yah!" Someone shouted from the side. "Stop bullying my brother." Yuta smiled as he watched the mini version of the girl occupying his mind shout at the bigger kids who were hurting her brother. She's totally different from her. "Did your dad teach you that?"

The bigger kid only glared when the soccer coach called for him, and he quickly called him 'daddy'. So that is where his confidence came from. His gaze returned to the siblings, Jae was holding his sister's arm saying sorry that she had to get angry. Yuta smiled, that's their mom's attitude. Always apologetic. How can these two be a spitting image of her? Truly, they're her children.

"Yuta Nakamoto," Jae called before he could flee the place. He greeted the young boy then smiled at the girl who was looking at him in curiosity. "I told you he's eomma's friend, noona. He knows my name." Yuta chuckled at that. He just met his youngest fanboy.

The younger girl pulled her brother behind her that surprised Yuta. "Eomma said not to talk to strangers." The older smirked. She's really different from her mom.

"Should we call your mom? Can you give me her number?" The girl shook her head and Yuta nodded, already texting Taeyong. He responded with her number and Yuta quickly called the said phone number, "Hi Y/N. It's Yuta." Both kids were staring at him, "I'm here in Jae's school. Can I bring them to the mall?"

"Ahjusshi, can I see if it's my mom?" The girl asked and Yuta handed his phone to her. "Eomma?" The girl stared at him in wonder as she heard her mom's voice. "Then can we go with this ahjusshi?" She glared at him for a moment then nodded as if she’s talking to her mom. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Yuta, you don’t have to do this if you’re busy.” But he wanted to. He wanted to spend time with them and learn about her as a mom. “Just message me where you are. I’ll pick them up.” He agreed. If only he could spend time with her as well.

It was Jae who’s most excited when they reached the mall. The older girl stayed a few feet away from the two of them. Maybe she’s not interested. But really, she’s a tough nut to crack. He discovered that Jae wanted to play soccer but his mom doesn’t want him to, saying that he’s too young to play. So Yuta brought him to a shop where they sell sports shoes. “I’ll go talk to your mom. But for now, wear these soccer shoes,” he claimed while tying the younger boy’s shoelaces that made him beam. Jae hugged Yuta, thanking him for the shoes. “You’re welcome, bud.”

Yuta realized that he didn’t know the older girl’s name. What was it? Did Y/N mention her name? To be safe, he just asked Jae about it. “Cherry,” he called then walked to where she was, staring at the skating shoes. “Do you want one?” She shook her head mumbling that their mom would get mad. “Besides, it’s not snowing.” He nodded.

“We can go ice skating...”

“You’re not my dad.” That made Yuta stop. Of course, he’s not. “Stop acting that you care about me or Jae. You’re just like the other guys.” Other guys? “You’ll leave me and Jae. You’ll leave eomma.” She’s a difficult nut to crack.

Yet she’s so different when she’s next to her brother. The cold eyes were changed into warmness when her brother asked if they could play in the ball pit. She looked like a child, smiling at the younger as they bounced at the trampoline. She looks exactly like her. How can two children, both from the same parents, have so different personalities?

He was just watching them, texting Y/N where he is, checking from time to time the two kids playing with the others in the ball pit area. "Hey," Y/N called, sitting beside Yuta on the mall bench. She smiled seeing the two playing. "Did they tire you?"

Yuta laughed. "It's fine. They're cool." There was silence, a comfortable silence. It's awkward to see her now. A lot of things changed. "Jae has the same personality as you, that's cute." She giggled. "Cherry looks like you."

Y/N nodded. "I'm glad she talks to you."

"It was hard, honestly." He confessed and again, she giggled. That sound. He missed her laugh. "I think she wants to go figure skating." That surprised Y/N. "And Jae wants to play soccer."

"He's too young. He'll get hurt with the bigger kids." Yuta was about to revolt at that. "I remembered when you played with the bigger kids back in eighth grade." That was one of his worst plays ever. Until now, he can feel how hurt he is.

She confessed that she doesn't know anything about sports that's why she's a little worried about sending her kids to the sports clinic that made him smile. She's such a mom. "I'll train Jae," Yuta announced that made her look at him. "I have to stay in Spain for two months for the league then I'll come back and teach Jae soccer." He explained. "I'll help Cherry too."

"Yuta, you don't have to."

"I want to." He held her hand. "Please."

"Why are you holding hands?" Cherry asked that made Yuta let go of his hold on her.

The older just gave her daughter a glare that made Yuta laugh. They look alike, the resemblance is too uncanny if you see them now yet they’re so different. “Eomma!” Jae called, reaching out to hug his mom. “I had fun today.” And she smiled at him. “Yuta samchon is so cool.”

“He bought you shoes?” She asked, checking the new kicks on her son’s feet. Jae claimed that he also bought Cherry one that made the older girl glare at Yuta. “Did you say thank you?” Both nodded.

Yuta smiled at them. They do look like a happy family. “I’ll get going. I’ll see you when I get back from Spain.” Y/N nodded. Yuta asked for a hug and Jae was the only one who’s ecstatic to hug him. Cherry rolled her eyes that made the older guy laugh. As expected. “Come on, Y/N, a hug.” He said, hands extended for the older girl.

The girl giggled before giving him a tight hug. His hand rested on her back then the other on the back of her head, caressing her hair. “You’re doing a great job being a mom, Sakura.”

She laughed before muttering the words, “I’m proud of you, Syaoran.”

Watching the three of them head to a different way opposite him, he wished he would have another chance to bond with them. He would love to be with them. Maybe having children isn’t too bad.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Three

#yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #yuta nakamoto #Yuta #chaptered

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staarshines · 3 years

Text

It’s Not All Roses Chapter 1: astra (HighSchool!AU) || P.D.

| It’s Not All Roses Masterlist |

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side. What the hell were the odds?

[A/N]: i haven’t been on here for months but we don’t talk about that❤️ also, the pandemic doesn’t exist here. bonne lecture.

Your Sour Patch Kids and Sprite, Finn’s Milky Way and Gatorade… You look over the items in your hands once more, hurrying through the crowds of kids masked in orange and white, proudly showing off Amidala-Skywalker High School’s colors; a stark contrast to the crowd bathed in red and black on the other side of the podium.

You mentally curse yourself for even wanting to come to the Homecoming game between Amidala-Skywalker and Geonosis High—dragging Finn along with you on top of that.

If Homecoming was this overhyped, you were going to be pissed.

Lost in thought, you unavoidably manage to run into someone, wincing when you hear the crack of your Sprite can hit the ground and open.

“My bad.”

You look back up to see a cute guy looking back at you with apologetic eyes, grinning, while his wild chocolate-colored curls frame his face.

“No, you’re good. It was my fault for running into you.”

“Nah, that was me. Got a little too focused on the game.” Both of you erupt into awkward laughter, bending down to pick up the snacks now lying on the ground. “I’m Poe, by the way.”

You look up once more, breath hitching in your throat because of how close you are to him—had you moved five inches closer, your lips would be pressed flush up against his. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you forget how to speak for a few moments, watching him hold back a smirk.

This fucker knew exactly—

“I’m Y/N,” you quickly blurt out, flashing him a quick smile and grabbing the candy and sports drink, noticing another Sprite can that Poe hadn’t picked up. “I think that’s yours.”

“No, that one’s yours.”

“Even if it is mine, I ran into you, so you should have it.”

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that. Rey would kill me if I didn’t come back with her Sprite.” You chuckle and nod, standing up and smiling when he motions for you to go up the steps first.

You’re thinking about where you’ve seen him on the way up to your row, realizing that he was the one who pranked a girl—you’re guessing Rey?—in your english class by removing her headphones from her laptop’s jack while she was in the bathroom. Mr. Kenobi nearly fell out of his seat when he heard “WAP” blaring at full volume.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

You slide into the row Finn is sitting in, throwing him his candy and the Gatorade bottle—the latter of which he nearly doesn’t catch, which would’ve resulted in it hitting the brunette next to him.

“Y/N! Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side.

What the hell were the odds?

You then remember that Finn and Rey are watching you look around like a madman, snapping you back to the situation of introductions and small-talk at hand.

“Right! The girl who—”

“Whose music blared in a dead-silent classroom in the middle of our english class? Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckle slightly, nodding to her and sitting down. Poe’s gaze catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

What are you doing here?

A quick tilt of your head in Finn’s direction, then the game’s direction. Watching the game, apparently.

Raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk. You following me?

An eyeroll and a bit-back smile. Oh yeah, definitely.

He shrugs with a smile on his face and sits down next to Rey, and you stifle a chuckle when you see her snatch the Sprite and Airheads from him, cracking the can open.

“What, do you two know each other?” It takes you a second to realize Finn’s question is directed at you and Poe.

“I mean kinda, we just ran into each other a while ago. Oh, that’s Poe. Poe, Finn, Finn, Poe.” They exchange warm smiles but nothing more.

“Well, I promise I’m not aiding him in anything,” Rey reads your mind, winking and eliciting a giggle from you. You look over to find him scrolling through his phone, earning a slight frown from you as you resume your normal position and pop a Sour Patch Kid into your mouth, mindlessly watching the game go on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you lazily pull it out, checking the notification.

Instagram Poe Dam(n)eron (@damndameron) has requested to follow you.

You look over at him once again, finding him now watching the game. Hm, so we’re playing this game? All right. Opening the app, you accept his request and click on his profile, a bit surprised when you see that he’s private—he pegged you as the type of guy to have a public account. Nevertheless, you hit “Follow”, waiting a few moments before refreshing and seeing that he’s accepted, giving you full access to his profile.

You see about four posts and a few story highlights, but nothing out of the ordinary. You click on his most recent post, scrolling past the beach, a hot tub at a cabin, a picture of him and Rey at Pike’s Peak—was she his girlfriend?—and lastly, a picture of someone who you guessed was his mother and him as a baby. He’s standing on her feet in what looks like their living room and you can tell that they’re dancing, a grin frozen on his mom’s face while Poe flashes a toothy smile—his dad must’ve taken the picture. It was dated November 21, posted almost one year ago. Curious, you click on the comments and start reading through them.

kare_kun_ Thinking about all of you.

r.skywalker you'll always be her flyboy, poe.

snapwexley01 she’d be so proud of you, man.

j_pava Wish she was still here with us. Stay strong, Poe.

The last comment makes it all click into place, and you feel a pang in your heart. He’d lost his mom. How long ago? He was maybe four years old in that picture. You suddenly feel so empathetic that all you want to do is give him a hug—he was a momma’s boy; you could read it right off his face. You keep the date in mind: November 21st.

“Well, we won.” You look up in a daze to see that the clock was 6 seconds away from halftime, the score being 31-9 in Amidala-Skywalker’s favor.

“How do you kick someone’s ass that badly?” you ask with a sort of wince even though you were on the triumphant side, clicking your phone shut.

“Like that, apparently,” Poe remarks, just before the halftime buzzer rings. “You guys wanna get out of here and go to the baseball fields or something? It’s a lot less noisy but you can still hear the game’s commentary.” You’re a bit surprised at his proposal, seeing as you four just met, but you’re definitely not opposed.

“Why not?” Finn responds, shrugging his shoulders. You four get up and leave the row, nearly getting trampled in the number of kids leaving their seats to either go get food or leave the game entirely.

“C’mon, flyboy, you’re gonna get lost!” Rey yells from behind you. Flyboy. Wonder where he got that nickname.

“Oh my God, please— He did not!” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth while giving Poe a disbelieving look.

It’s pitch black outside now and you four are bathed in the floodlights of the baseball stadium, sitting on the grass just by home base.

“There’s fight, there’s flight, then there’s complete idiocy. Guess which one Poe has programmed into his DNA.” Poe narrows his eyes at Rey, throwing Finn’s empty Gatorade bottle at her which she catches with ease.

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t thinking—”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“—I was panicked! There was a s’more in my hand and I just threw it in the other direction!”

“While not thinking that the bear would come after you for more,” you add, watching him huff, seeing a hint of a pout on his face. “Remind me never to go anywhere near the woods with you.”

“I like her already,” Rey remarks, to which you crack a smile.

“How long have you two been dating?” you try to crack the question as casually as possible, but let’s face it: the anticipation is eating away at you. To your surprise, they both burst out in laughter—so they’re not together?

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t date Poe in a million years. I couldn’t handle being that much impulse control for him—He’s already a liability as my best friend,” Rey laughs, shaking her head.

“I— Rude. But honestly, I wouldn’t date you either. You don’t know how to have fun,” he exaggerates the statement with his hands. You smile at their banter, a bit surprised at their relationship’s similarity to yours and Finn’s. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We’re most definitely not dating,” Finn chuckles, earning a slap to the shoulder from you.

“No need to act like you’d never date me! Remember the kiss on the playground in third grade?” you ask sarcastically, the memory bringing back a bout of nostalgia.

“That was third grade! And I was dared to do it!” You laugh, throwing an arm around him.

“I mean Finn, you seem pretty passionate about making sure she knows you don’t like her,” Poe winks, earning a fake gag from Finn.

“Oh, please. She’s like my sister.”

“Literally,” you add. “I’m pretty sure I saw you more than I saw my own parents during my childhood.”

“You, Ben, Han, and Leia, yeah,” he nods.

“Ben, Han, and Leia..?”

“Ben’s our best friend. The three of us practically grew up together with Han and Leia—his parents.”

“Han and Leia like—Dr. Solo and Dr. Organa? The ones who teach at the school?” You nod, answering Poe’s question. “I don’t think they’re married—are they divorced?”

“Never got married,” Finn explains. “Just two best friends who had a one-night stand and actually stayed civil with each other after learning about the pregnancy. They raised Ben together—and us, too, basically.”

“I miss him,” you murmur. “Why’d his stupid ass have to want to go to that college prep school way over in New York, anyway?”

“Probably just to make Han and Leia proud after all they’ve done. Mark my words, he’ll be back here in a year or two. You don’t get the high school experience at a prep school.”

“Are you talking about First Order Preparatory, the big one in New York?” Rey interjects. “That’s not a boarding school last I checked.”

“Nah, he’s living over there with his Uncle Luke. I mean, we FaceTime and all, but it’s just not the sa—”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Poe, she’s coming over here.” Both Poe and Rey scramble to get up, leaving you and Finn to do the same while you steal a glance behind yourself, trying to see who Rey is talking about.

“Run,” Poe whispers in a panicked tone; Rey grabs his arm before he can take off.

“We’re not running, genius!” she hisses, looking behind you once more. You turn around, finally spotting a blonde wearing an orange shirt and white shorts, stripes of white paint just under her eyes. “We’re walking away. Quickly. Very quickly.” You turn around, finding them nodding to you and Finn; the four of you begin in the opposite direction from whoever the blondie was.

“Who are we r—walking very quickly away from?” you ask, keeping up at a brisk pace.

“Zorii Bliss. She’s been after Poe ever since fifth grade,” Rey explains, picking up her pace.

“Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple,” you mutter, arching an eyebrow.

“You think I haven’t tried? What was this summer, the seventh time I’ve turned her down?” Poe groans, and you suddenly feel terrible. They were actually running from this girl who’d been after them for five years. Couldn’t you get a restraining order or something? “She’s been with five guys—”

“Six,” Rey corrects.

“—six guys in the past four months. All she does is play them then blame them, all while still somehow looking like the victim. The Smoky Mountains trip we were just talking about—the bear and the s’mores? You don’t know how hard she tried to get in on that trip.”

“Sheesh,” Finn starts, “someone needs to—”

“Poe!” you hear someone, presumably Zorii, call out from behind you four.

“—get the hint,” Finn mutters, and the four of you turn around to find her just maybe fifty feet away. What the fuck, did she run to catch up or something?

“Hide me,” you hear Poe whisper, and before you can ask how, he’s already crouched behind you, arms around your waist.

“Long time no see,” she calls out, sauntering now. Aw c’mon, how about you run like you were doing before? Look all desperate for the cameras?

“What—She knows you’re here!”

“But I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Nope.” You start to argue with him but then stop, realizing he really didn’t want to see her.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Christ, even her voice was insufferable. She looked like a bitch, too.

You really just wanted to punch her in the face.

“What do you want, exactly?”

“Who are you, his girlfriend? Funny, Poe hasn’t really ever dated anyone.” She shuffles a bit to the side and you copy her footwork to guard Poe, watching her raise her eyebrows and laugh in disbelief. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you quip smoothly, hearing Finn quickly stifle a laugh from beside you. She gives Finn a dirty look, and you swear you’re about to drag her from her hair right now. “What do you want?”

“I just came over to say hi to Poe since we didn’t get to meet too much over the summer,” she shrugs. “Zorii Bliss.” You don’t respond, waiting for her to make her exit. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Couldn’t be more bothered to.” Rey sucks in a sharp breath and you’re worried that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but your stance doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Poe before turning on her heel and walking away—you’re sure she’s swaying her hips on purpose.

“Damn,” Poe murmurs, getting up from behind you. “You really said ‘no, bitch’ to her.” You laugh a little bit at his statement, shaking your head.

“She just really pissed me off. Hopefully that taught her a lesson and she’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can hope. I nearly fought her in the middle school parking lot once.” Finn raises his eyebrows at Rey but you just nod impressedly.

“Y’know, we should take a picture so we have something to post on Instagram,” Poe suggests. “I haven’t posted for a while.” He’s actually one of the boys who cares about his Instagram? Respect.

“Yeah, neither have I.” You shush Finn before he can start to whine about taking pictures, but Rey seems to have the same reaction as him. “Aw, c’mon you guys, it’s just one picture.”

“Fine,” Finn drawls. “Just one.”

“Maybe two,” you add with a giggle, watching him shake his head as you pull out your phone, opening the camera. “Okay, any ideas on where we should set it? Because the four of us sure as hell aren’t fitting in a square if I take a selfie.”

“If you have a popsocket, you can try to hook it inside the diamonds of the fence.”

“Good idea, flyboy,” you test the nickname out, watching his reaction closely to determine whether you’re crossing a line. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, so you breathe a sigh of relief.

After having set your phone up on the fence—“You’re taking too long. Let me do it.” “Finn, you’re not going to have any more luck than I am.” (He, in fact, didn’t)—you press the shutter button and quickly run back to the four, throwing an arm around Finn and watching Rey neck Poe, earning a laugh from you. It’s a bit too late when you realize the picture’s already been taken, and it takes about three minutes for you both to coax Finn and Rey into taking another one. The second one turns out almost perfect, though, seeming like one of those cliché VSCO pictures that everyone posts around this time.

“Numbers,” you state simply, handing your phone to Rey. She starts adding her contact information, taking a quick selfie for her contact picture and then handing the phone off to Poe. “And give me your Instagram handles, too. I’ll tag you guys when I post.”

“You already have mine,” Poe remarks while not looking up from the phone, and you’re sure that you’re the only one who can hear the slight smugness in his voice. He hands your phone back to you and you see that he’s set the picture of his annoyed face after Rey necking him as his contact photo, which makes you giggle a bit.

After you’d sent them the pictures—Poe had named the groupchat “the avengers”, which sparked a conversation about Marvel (Finn and Poe were arguing over the best Avenger right now)—you edited the pictures slightly to make them better, uploading them to Instagram with the caption, “no friendship is an accident.”.

You four were now walking out of school boundaries towards your neighborhood—yet another thing you four discovered you had in common—but you were lost in the stars, hearing traces of the current conversation on hand (something about Asgard and the Tesseract).

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Poe snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Staring at the stars?” he asks, looking up at the sky himself.

“Yeah. Found Ursa Major and Cassiopeia,” you point out, watching him genuinely look for the constellations, humming when he sees them too. “You like stargazing?”

“I do, actually. Have a telescope in my room and everything.”

“Oh?” You’re stepping in stride with him, completely forgetting about the other two who are also with you.

“Yeah. Y’know… you need a nickname.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, I just think…” he looks up at the sky then back at you, grinning as if he’s figured something out. “Astra.”

“Astra?” you ask, recognizing the word to be Greek for “star”.

“Astra,” he confirms, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, but you can’t deny that you like it.

“Well, it’s not terrible.” You were understating. You kind of loved it.

“I’ll take that as a win.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades, @arkofblake, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess, @propertyofdindjarin, @coldbreadbouquetworld, @melvls, @waatermelon-sugaar, @thedevilwearsbeskar

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @poe-damnnn-eron, @lapilark, @peterhollandkait, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol, @twomoonstwosuns, @writefightandflightclub, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust, @legamelo, @xremember-me-notx, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby, @yourbucky084, @agents-assemble, @asianravenpuff, @daydreamerinadazedworld

“It’s Not All Roses” Taglist: @marvelous-capsicle, @fishswimbetterunderwater, @r2fucku, @missmadwoman

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #star wars fic #star wars imagine #star wars au #high school au #my writing

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch 4.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3 ___________________________________________________________

Marinette is not surprised when she receives a text message from Lila two days after she speaks to Damian. She’s been expecting Lila to contact her.

After all, Damian refuses to listen to common sense and transfer, and since he hasn’t been brought into the fold with the rest of the class, he clearly must be against them. This causes the rest of their classmates agitation. Marinette is afraid that Damian might end up like the rest of the transfer students; pushed away and aggravated to the point of akumatization.

It doesn’t matter that Marinette brushes off Damian’s attempts at conversation. All it matters is that there is one (1) Very Attractive Boy that is not under Lila’s thumb and is associating with Lila’s supposed enemy. Surely, the Italian girl knows that the current situation holds all of the possibilities for a disaster.

Marinette isn’t sure how Lila has her phone number, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Since Marinette didn’t run for class president this year, Lila was elected because of everybody’s adoration for her. Being Class president is a good resume boost, so Lila accepted, and appointed Alya as her Vice Deputy (and of course, allowed the faux reporter to do all of the legwork for her.) So, it’s highly likely that Lila just looked up her number in the class registry.

7:45AM | Unknown number: it’s lila. i’ll meet you at the corner cafe near the louvre at 4 today. we need to talk

8:05AM | Marinette: okay

Unknown number: youre not going to ask why

Marinette: we both know why

11:02AM | Unknown number: be on time

On his part, Damian isn’t the kind of person who is heavy handed in conversation, which is good for Marinette. He makes snide comments when annoyed and asks questions about assignments that reference lessons he wasn’t there for, but is quiet otherwise. He doesn’t bother much with pleasantries and also doesn’t bother asking to hang out after school, which Marinette is very glad for. Hawkmoth is sending out akumas more frequently than he has in a while, and she has a lot of work to do with commissions-- mostly received through word of mouth-- and homework. She does want to get into a good college, after all, and it’s not exactly like she can put I am the superhero, Ladybug on her admissions essays. Or maybe she could, as some sort of joke?

Still, his obvious denial of Lila’s advances is all too apparent to the class, and even without Lila’s instigation, gossip spreads like a wildfire. In fact, it spreads despite Lila’s desire for it not to. The class doesn’t talk about it when Lila’s in earshot, but Lila knows what’s going on. Lila sees the pitying looks that are thrown her way, the whispers in her ear about the bully, Marinette, getting her claws into another, poor transfer student.

At first, Lila attempts to divert the class’s attention by pushing her relationship with Adrien. Lila gets even closer to Adrien, who, weirdly, smells like some sort of old cheese, especially when she gets close to his breast pocket.

“Oh, Adrien, I think it’s so sweet that you’re going to be taking me to dinner tonight!” Lila finds that Adrien’s forearms are surprisingly muscular. Not that there’s anything wrong wth that-- she likes her boytoys to be strong, but sort of stupid.

It’s a pity that Adrien isn’t stupid, just a pushover. The two of them have an agreement, just like she and Marinette do; Adrien will play along with Lila during class time so her empire remains as strong as ever, and Lila gives Adrien an out for model related things. She doesn’t know where Adrien continually disappears off to during photoshoots, but Gabriel trusts her for some weird reason she hasn’t figured out yet. Which means that Lila is the perfect, ever constant excuse. Occasionally she goes out with Adrien on a “date” to keep up appearances, but it’s hard to date someone who doesn’t follow her every whim. Lila also doesn’t know anything about gaming, or anime, or anything that Adrien has interest in. In return, Adrien dislikes fashion, manipulation, and lying. Really, they have no common ground.

When the American transfer showed up, Lila had been hoping that he would be dumb. He is wonderful eye candy-- more muscular than Adrien and definitely more filled out, that’s for sure. Lila knows that Gabriel has Adrien on some god-awful model diet, but that boy can metabolize like there’s no tomorrow. But it’s not Lila’s place to intervene. That’s family matters-- that’s show business.

Damian Grayson is not stupid, which is either a blessing or a curse, because that means theoretically this man is the whole package. He’s tall, dark, and has a sharp tongue. Exactly Lila’s type. But nothing that’s actually good ever comes her way, and the moment she meets him, she can tell that he dislikes her. Not for the first time, Lila regrets telling such bald-faced lies her first year. Prior to that year, her mother and she hopped countries nearly every year. Apparently, her mother decided that having Lila in the same school throughout high school would be beneficial. Maybe if Lila hadn’t made such a huge mistake in her first year at Francois Dupont, she would be friends with Marinette, who has more of a spine than the rest of the class combined.

Lila knows a losing battle when she sees one. Damian doesn’t like her, though she’s not sure why. She gets the feeling it’s not just because of her past lies. She’s good at telling what people feel about her, has been trained to since a young age. Since her mother is a diplomat, business dinners and charity galas have been her playground since childhood. Figuring out people’s relationships started as a game, at first. Then Lila learned she could turn her knowledge into a tool. As she bounced around from school to school she got more and more adept with manipulating the relationships that she saw. But she’s seen her mom lose before. She miscalculated, thought that she could change somebody who was too headstrong. It hadn’t been pretty-- and it was high stakes, too. That’s why her mom and dad are now divorced.

She recognizes the same bullheadedness in Damian that Marinette has, and Lila knows that with Damian and the class at odds like they currently are, things will go south. Unlike the other transfer students, Damian looks like he will not be easily cowed and will not transfer just because his classmates say mean things to him. They certainly won’t be able to hurt him physically. Which is why she needs to meet up with Marinette. Do damage control. Make sure that she is safe, and that nobody can hurt her. Nobody in this stupid class can hurt her, really. Except for maybe Marinette, but she is too kind to do so. And now, Damian. Which means Lila needs to get a lock on him, and Marinette is her way to do that.

That’s why Lila is here, now, at this cafe near the Louvre, far, far away from anybody who goes to Francois Dupont. None of her dogs will find her here, and she can work something out with Marinette.

Marinette slides into the seat across from her after ordering something, and Lila begrudgingly admits that the girl is pretty and fashionable. She has a fluid grace to her motions, as well, which is why Lila found it weird that she had been so klutzy when they first met. Puberty, maybe?

“So,” Lila starts. She doesn’t really know how to talk to Marinette. Marinette is not one of her dogs. Marinette is smart, and loved, and good at what she likes; she is, at the very least, Lila’s begrudging equal. “Damian Grayson.”

“Damian Grayson,” Marinette repeats, knowingly. She smiles and jokes, “It almost sounds like we’re meeting up to talk about who we have a crush on.”

There are times when Lila wishes that Marinette took her up on the first option of the truce she presented. She wouldn’t have minded a partner in crime, and Marinette is everything that Lila lacks. That’s why Lila offered it in the first place. She knew that Marinette wouldn’t take it-- she was far too morally inclined too-- but it was worth a try.

“I’ve tried talking to him,” Marinette says, “But he’s not the type to listen.”

“He’s smart.” Smarter than the rest of the class, Lila thinks, so of course he won’t ally himself with her. People who follow who are always disillusioned dreamers who don’t have enough common sense to use Google. “I don’t mind if he’s not on my side. He just can’t be against me.”

Lila doesn’t care much about her classmates at Francois Dupont, but she can’t give them up, either. She still has the rest of this school year and the next, and it’s easier having her classmates fawn over her and drop everything at the flick of her wrist. It makes being class president very easy. If Damian exposes her lies, the end of her lycee years will inevitably end in an unpleasant altercation with Gianna Rossi, her mother. And while her classmates are inarguably dense and too trusting, their attentions aren’t altogether unpleasant. They invite her to go to mundane places and she agrees to, when it’s not too much of an inconvenience.

Marinette nods, sagely, then sips her Cafe au Lait. “There’s nothing to worry about there. He doesn’t like dealing with classroom politics, so as long as you don’t mess with him, he’ll stay away.”

“Good.” But also-- Lila hesitates. She doesn’t think that Marinette will agree with this, but she’s a little bit desperate. As useless and unthinking their classmates are, Lila doesn’t want to lose them. They’re all that Lila has. And they’ll think it weird that Damian isn’t on her side. They might start messing with him, and by extension, Marinette. On Lila’s short list of who she has tried and failed to take down is Marinette. The girl is slow to anger and has seemingly unending patience, but she’s unquestionably talented and charismatic, which means Lila does not want to see her mad. She’s been accepting of the new classroom dynamic in which her classmates ignore and ocassionally insult her because the whole school knows the two of them have bad blood, but some days Lila catches Marinette looking at Alya, Nino, and Adrien with a distant fondness. If they totally turn on Marinette, it won’t end well.

Apparently, Marinette can see the hesitation on her face. Lila is surprised at how good the other girl is at reading people. She definitely should not have the same experiences that Lila does. She has too bright of a disposition to have experienced a life constantly embroiled in politics and poor personal relations. But somehow, Marinette is almost as good at reading people as Lila is.

“If you think the rest of the class is going to do something, I’m pretty sure that Damian will be fine with you shunning him. He doesn’t like liars, but as long as it gets him out of dealing with the rest of the class, he’ll be fine.” Marinette knows how little Damian cares for their classmates. She can ask him for permission after talking to Lila, and then act accordingly.

This is surprisingly easy. Though, most things with Marinette are. Even the first time that Lila confronted her, they only needed to speak a few words before everything was resolved neatly.

“I’ll let you know what I decide to tell them.” Lila figures that it’s easier for her to tell Marinette what she’s planning and not get an unexpected surprise at the last second where the girl opposes her.

“Sounds good.”

Marinette’s phone is on the table, and it buzzes itself to life. Lila sees her lockscreen: a picture of Marinette and her family. Lila thinks of her own lock screen. It is much less personable. A lock screen that is one of the many that are preinstalled.

Marinette picks the phone up, which comes off as uncharacteristically rude. Marinette doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is constantly attached to technology, and she does have better manners than most of her classmates. Lila doesn’t think she’s ever seen Marinette pick up her phone when talking to somebody, and Lila wonders if Mariette picks up the phone because she thinks so little of her.

But Marinette looks pale and worried. She says, “Sorry, but it looks like I have to cut this short. If there’s anything else, just text me, okay?”

Then, Marinette dashes out the door, wide-eyed.

Lila wonders if Marinette’s statement extends to things outside of their classroom situation. Maybe she can get Marinette’s opinion on Gabriel’s Spring line.

“What’s wrong, Renee?” Marinette is worried. Renee never calls without texting, first. Normally, he calls when it’s nighttime, right before he goes to bed. He’s calling in the middle of the day, and something feels wrong.

Renee is taking shuddering breaths on the phone, and Marinette feels her stomach drop. “M-ma-maman,” he wails.

“Did your maman do something?” She’s making her way to Renee’s grandparent’s residence. Marinette visited Renee once in the past week, and he was settling in fine. His grandparents really love him. They said that after their son died, they were rarely able to contact Renee because his mother always had him so busy.

“Maman, she, she hurt Nonna.” Everything that Renee says is punctuated by sniffles and held-back tears.

“Is Nonna bleeding? Can Nonno come to the phone?”

“N-no, I don’t know, Mari, I’m scared, Maman, she’s never been this angry before, Nonno made me lock the bathroom door, I can’t hear them anymore, she’s not going to hurt them, is she? She can’t hurt them, Mari, what am I supposed to do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being so bad, I’m sorry. Please--”

“Stay right where you are, okay Renee? Can you use your phone to call the police to Nonno’s house? I’m going to be right there. Nonno and Nonna are going to be okay.”

Renee lets out a shaky, “Yes,” and then Marinette hangs up the phone, darting into an alleyway to turn into Ladybug. She thinks that this might be the fastest that she’s made her way through Paris, and her heartbeat is so fast, Marinette feels like she’s about to vomit.

Ladybug swings to the suburbs where Renee currently resides, detransforms, and sprints into the house. The door is left wide open, which is a bad sign. It signals to Marinette that Celia was violent from the start, and that the elder Monsieur and Madam DeVries did not even have time to close the door.

She is unfortunately right; Madam Devries is on the floor with her arms over her head, body in a fetal position. Celia is barely restrained by Monsieur DeVries, who has deep scratches on his arms.

“You,” Celia snarls when she sees Marinette come through the door. “You bitch! Your stupid intervention made me lose my chance at a promotion. Now I’m on probation! I could be demoted, all because you thought that you could teach my child.”

Celia’s stiletto heels slam onto Monsieur DeVries’ bare foot, and he flinches from the pain. It gives Celia just enough slack for her to escape his arms and storm up to Marinette. “Everything I do is for Renee. I work so he can go to school, so that he has a roof over his head, and so he can go to all of those stupid lessons that his father wanted him to do. And what do you do? What gives you the right to take him away from me?”

She tries to claw Marinette, but misses. All Marinette has to do is sidestep, sweep Celia’s already shaking legs from underfoot, and then pull Celia’s arms sharply and backwards. Marinette’s shin is locked over the back of both of Celia’s knees, and Marinette contorts the woman backwards so Marinette can speak directly into Celia’s ears.

Marinette is glad that there are no cameras rolling here, though she has gathered so much evidence against Celia for charges of child abuse and corporate fraud that there is no way that Celia isn’t going to jail. Sine there’s no video evidence, if Celia wants to bring this instance up, she can just claim self defense.

“You starved Renee when he didn’t want to go to the lessons that you arranged. You beat him if he did anything wrong. You made him think that it was normal for kids to go weeks without seeing or hearing from their parents, prevented him from contacting other family members and from making friends, and humiliated him just because he wanted to hug you in public.” Marinette pulls Celia’s arms back even more sharply, so that her spine was over Marinette’s other knee. Celia let out a gasp and a muffled cry of pain. “You can’t pretend that you did all of that for Renee. You certainly can’t pass off the laundering of Silverstein and Company’s money as something necessary for you to take care of Renee.”

Marinette abruptly pushes Celia onto the floor, letting the leg that wasn’t restraining Celia’s knees onto the woman’s lower back. It’s a lot easier to restrain somebody who’s unconscious, but Marinette wants Celia awake to realize how quickly her life is going to go down the drain. So that Celia knows how much evidence she has stacked against her.

It takes Marinette longer than it usually does for her to restrain her victim with zip ties, but she gets it done well before they even start to hear the police sirens.

“If you think you can use your late husband’s name as an excuse for what you’ve done to Renee, you have another thing coming. I will see you in court this Thursday and not only will you be out of a promotion, you will be out of a job. I’d like to see you try to get a job in France when you have charges of child abuse, violence against a teen and family, fraud, and money laundering on your record.”

“But I love Renee! He is my and Jean’s child. The last connection that I have with Jean. How could I ever hurt him intentionally?”

This only makes Marinette feel more disgusted. How twisted Celia’s vision of love is. Is this how Gabriel feels towards Adrien? Does he also delude himself into believing that his constant isolation of Adrien is a form of love?

“Sometimes, intent doesn’t matter.” Marinette says softly. “The consequences of your actions make you accountable. If you truly love Renee, let him be happy. Let him be safe.” Maybe one day, Celia will learn to be better. To love better. Marinette isn’t sure if Celia should ever be let back into Renee’s life, but that isn’t a decision she can make. That’s something that Renee and Monsieur and Madam DeVries must decide. She hopes they wait on it.

Celia cries, and Marinette can feel the woman’s shudders underneath her fingers. Her face is to the ground now, but she’s lost all color and Marinette can almost believe that she is ashamed and doesn’t want to look at anyone. But as good as Marinette is at partial and half-truths, she’s never been good at lying. Not even to herself.

The police come, and Celia is escorted out in a solemn procession.

Madame and Monsieur DeVries do not thank Marinette, but the way they look at Renee with such concern and affection as they embrace him is all she wants, anyways.

The trial is a quiet affair. There is little to no media coverage because Monsieur and MadameDeVries want it that way.

Since Celia’s physical assault on her son, the case was expedited. Instead of testifying Thursday next week, both Renee’s grandparents and the Silverstein and Company insisted that the date be moved up, and somehow, they managed to get the case to be heard on Friday of the same week.

Renee attaches himself staunchly to Marinette and Damian at the trial. After they visited him at the DeVries house last week, Renee never stopped talking about the best big brother he could hope for. Now, after he has seen his mother launch herself at his Nonna and Nonno, he only has his grandparents and the two of them.

Monsieur and Madam DeVries take this in stride. They are thankful that they helped in getting Renee away from his mother and supportive of Renee forming an attachment to the two of them.

“Damian,” Renee asks when his Maman is on the stand, “Is Maman a bad person?”

Damian is not sure how to answer this. He is no expert on people and his experience with parents is limited and unusual. His mother is an ambitious assassin who raised him to be cold-hearted and brutish. There is little love lost between the two of them. Still, Damian can’t bring himself to think of his mother as a bad person. A villain, maybe, but she had her moments--as brief and few as they were-- of kindness. As far as Damian can tell, Talia really thinks she is doing right by the world. All she wants to do is make the world a better place, though how she goes about doing that is... less than savory.

He shoots a look at Marinette. She shrugs and says, “Just tell him what you’re thinking.”

“People aren’t bad.” The words feel shaky on his tongue. Talia and Bruce both have very different ideology that they’ve espoused to him, but neither feels right to say to Renee. It’s weird to say there are no bad people in the world, when he is a vigilante who fights villains on a daily basis. To say that people like the Joker are not bad, when he has so much blood on his hands. He looks at Marinette, and she’s giving him an encouraging smile. It makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing. “Misguided and twisted, yes. There are also people who are bad for you. Their decisions and actions can be bad, and they can be hurtful.”

Marinette smiles, and it makes Damian feel good. He’s never really expressed his feelings on the dichotomy of people being good or bad, but he thinks about it often enough. His siblings and father all have pretty varying views on the matter, so he can’t claim that he is right, but if Marinette agrees with him, he can’t be all that wrong.

If this view isn’t wrong, perhaps he’s needs to reevaluate his relationships with the people surrounding him, and his feelings towards himself. Dick has tried for a very long time to make Damian believe that he is not a bad person, but Damian has never really believed him. Dick says Damian was just misguided in his youth, following the instructions of someone who should have known better. That so long as Damian tries to be a better person and do better things, that he will be a good person.

Being a good person has never sounded right to Damian. He knows that his hands have taken lives and if he’s being honest, he’s not that unwilling to take more. Father believes killing people is a bad thing and refuses to do it. When Todd went off on his own and killed people, Father said it was unacceptable, and that it didn’t matter that the people he killsed were doing bad things. Thus, if Damian killed in the past, Dick’s logic simply doesn’t make sense. He cannot redeem himself from the lives he has taken; they cannot magically resurrect themselves.

But if people aren’t good or bad and only their actions are, then maybe Damian is a hero, as Dick has continually tried to convince him. He has faced consequences for his past actions, and though he’s not sure that the consequences will ever be enough, the decisions he makes now are better. As Robin, he goes out of his way to help people. As Damian, he ocassionally tries to mediate.

“Still, even if people aren’t good or bad,” Marinette whispers into Renee’s ear and squeezes his hand, “That doesn’t mean you have to be with them. If they’ve hurt you, it’s your right to avoid them, and you shouldn’t feel bad for doing that.”

Celia shivers on the stand and the few times that she brings herself to look at Renee, Marinette can see the beginnings of remorse on her face. Realization and remorse are the first steps to change. There is a future out there that will let Renee and Celia be together again, though Marinette personally doubts that it will ever happen.

After the trial, Renee is released to the custody of Monsieur and Madame DeVries, and Celiaa is sentenced to 14 years in jail, with a possibility of parole in 7 years. Many of the scandals th Silverstein company has under their belt was pushed onto Celia. Marinette can’t say she’s pleased with that, but it’s not as though she’s willing to fight for a shorter jail sentence for this woman.

The five of them go out to celebrate the result of the trial filled with quiet joy.

One week after the trial, three since Damian arrived in Paris, and Marinette and Damian are engaged in a wrestling match in Marinette’s living room.

“Come on Marinette, don’t be such a sore loser.”

Marinette finally manages to flip and pin Damian onto the ground. “I would not have lost if you didn’t knock the controller out of my hands with thirty seconds to go!”

“That was just poor strategy on your part. You could have knocked my controller away too, instead of chasing after yours.” It’s surprisingly difficult for Damian to get himself out from under Marinette, and it’s even harder for him to flip her back and cage her. “Besides, it’s not my fault that you have such sweaty hands. Should keep a better grip, Pigtails.”

Marinette sputters. “Don’t insult my hairstyle choices!”

“I wasn’t insulting them. It’s a--” nickname. But Damian doesn’t give people he’s not close to nicknames. When he doesn’t know someone’s name, or doesn’t care for them, he calls them by distinguishing features. But Damian knows Marinette’s name and thinks that she’s a decent person. The way Pigtails rolled off of Damian’s tongue feels more like an endearment than anything else. He thinks that her pigtails are pretty cute, after all. They fit her childish persona when she is relaxed.

Sabine comes up the steps from the boulangerie and smiles at the two of them.

“You two are getting along well,” she says so nonchalantly that Damian feels a flush growing. He lets his weight off of Marinette, and she bounds up, onto her mother’s arm.

“Maman, tell Damian that my pigtails are great. He’s insulting them!”

Sabine smiles lovingly at her daughter and shakes one of the pigtails with her hand. “Definitely the tails of one very cute pig.”

“Maman, you can’t call me a pig. I’m your daughter.”

“I said a very cute pig.” Sabine looks at Damian and winks, and his flush grows even more. “Now isn’t it about time for the two of you to go back to school?”

Marinette groans. “Don’t remind me. Madame Mendeleev is going to give a physics test today.”

She grabs another pastry and her bag before kissing her Maman and heading out to the streets with Damian.

“Bye Maman, we’ll see you after we go visit Renee!”

“Bye, Sabine.” Damian inclines his head as Marinette’s mother waved them goodbye from behind the bakery counter.

It’s nice being friends with Marinette. The days go by quickly, and there’s rarely a dull moment. Somehow, the two of them kept meeting each other after akuma attacks, and between all of their accidental run-ins and their scheduled visits with Renee, Damian finds that he’s more often in the presence of Marinette Dupain-Cheng than he is alone.

At first, Marinette is prickly, but after Lila spreads the lie that he doesn’t speak French well and feels anxious when in big groups, and oh, did she mention that he wants to leave and not be friends with any of them, the class doesn’t really bother with him much. She’s much more willing to be around him once that occurs.

Surprisingly, what Lila said isn’t even that much of a lie. He wants-- or at least wanted-- to leave Paris because he thought that Hawkmoth wasn’t that big of a deal. He certainly doesn’t want to befriend anyone who is imbecilic enough to believe Lila. His French is a little bit rusty, but it’s definitely passable.

Now that Lila is not constantly trying to hold Damian’s forearm, he relaxes a lot. Marinette is a calming, level-headed person who balances out Damian’s doom and gloom with cheer and optimism. She’s good at catching him up on the classwork, though not the best ad science, and is a responsible person that Damian trusts with most things.

Lately, he’s been thinking of trusting her a little more and fishing for information on Hawkmoth, Chat Noir, and Ladybug. For some reason, Damian thinks that she will be a very good source of information if he approaches it the right way.

He aces the physics test. It’s a good day.

They’re walking back to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie when they come across Nicolette, the girl Marinette saved from Fraser.

“Marinette! Damian! I’m so glad I ran into you two. I never got a chance to thank you guys for saving me.” Nicolette looks infinitely happier than when they had first met her. She’s so different than when Damian first met her. He’s never been good at reconciling people in extreme situations of stress with how they are normally, so Damian supposes this is just par for the course.

“Can I get you guys coffee? It’s really such a relief that Fraser’s finally off my back. He was hounding me for a long time.” Nicolette’s voice trails off towards the end. She’s ashamed.

“I’m free. I’d love to have coffee with you. Damian?”

Damian doesn’t have any real reason to refuse. Research on Hawkmoth is important, but he’s hit a dead end as of late, and stressing about the lack of information-- Damian curses magic, for the umpteenth time-- will do nothing. It doesn’t help that he can hear his older brothers in his head, telling him that he needs to get a life.

“How’s your new job going?” Marinette falls into conversation with the girl, and the two of them manage to drag him into the conversation as well. Having a rapport with someone he barely knows is unusual, but surprisingly pleasant. There’s no need to go into depth over things he doesn’t care for, and anything that a party doesn’t seem interested in or doesn’t like is glossed over immediately.

Perhaps his brothers are right, and Damian does need to get a few more friends his age.

“My boss says that if I keep performing the way I am, I’ll get a promotion before the end of the year! Can you believe that?”

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. And your coworkers?”

“They’re pretty amazing. I’m so glad that I decided to work for Dior instead of Silverstein and Company. Silverstein was what really sent Fraser off, and they’re not even in fashion. They’re in real estate or something. Dior always reminds me how valued I am, and that’s something I really needed after dealing with Fraser for so long.” Nicolette looks around the cafe and lowers her voice. “There’s not a lot of information out about it in the media yet, but I’ve heard that Silverstein is going to be in pretty hot water soon; someone high up in their Paris branch really messed up. Apparently she was doing all sorts of illegal things under the table, and let a lot of those who were under her get away with the same thing.”

Marinette and Damian exchange looks. They know exactly who she’s talking about, but they come to the joint decision that they don’t need to talk about it. Because talking about how they know means talking about Renee. And even though Nicolette is friendly, there is no reason to expose another person’s life story. Especially not when they’re as vulnerable as Renee is. Marinette gently redirects the conversation back to fashion.

“Oh, I love Dior! Their ready to wear line was to die for this year.”

“Definitely, a lot of my friends like Gabriel better, but I simply adore the way that Dior emphasizes femininity. I don’t think that women need to emulate men in their fashion; we’re amazing the way we are, and should be appreciated.” Nicolette looks Marinette up and down. “Speaking of, I love your outfit. It doesn’t look like it’s something from a ready-made store.”

“I like to design my own clothes from time to time,” Marinette waves off the compliment. “Both Gabriel and Dior’s original missions are founded on principles that I greatly admire, though I have to admit that I’ve had some personal run-ins with Monsieur Agreste that have reflected poorly on his recent choices, and I am no longer the biggest fan of his work. It’s sad that he’s deviated so much from what he originally wanted to do-- give his wife and women the power to be treated as an equal.”

Marinette isn’t exactly sure how Gabriel treats Adrien in his entirety, but what little she does know is enough for her to despise the man. For the past year, Marinette has wanted to emancipate Adrien, and that desire has only gotten stronger in the past few months. In her gut, Marinette knows her initial suspicions are correct: Gabriel has to be Hawkmoth. More recently, even their moods seem to be interconnected. Gabriel has been hounding Adrien more than usual-- more photoshoots, late nights, less correspondence with his friends, more of a diet, and those are only things that Marinette has observed. And Hawkmoth has been coming after her and Chat Noir with a vengeance. He’s released an akuma every single day for the past month, and it’s taxing on her, though Marinette can’t say that his newest strategy is any weirder than the other ones he’s been trying out during the past half year. At least the akumas aren’t that strong, but it’s worrying because Chat Noir feels more obligated to come out to at least half of the akuma battles, and it’s clear that he’s too tired and too busy to do so.

“What about you, Damian? Do you have a favorite courtiere?” Marinette smiles sheepishly. They’re talking about fashion, and she’s not sure that he enjoys the subject all that much.

“I don’t know much about fashion, but all my brothers can talk about is this new designer that’s been working with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. They’re completely obsessed, but I can’t remember the name.” Damian thinks the designer’s name had an M in it, but he’s not sure.

“Oh, MDC! They’re so elusive, but their designs are stunning. I’d love to work with them, if I ever get a chance. It’s a pity that they’re so secretive.” Nicolette whips out her phone. “I have a whole file on all of the designs that they’ve released so far. They have a great eye for color, and their construction is flawless. I even have a few designs that they haven’t claimed, but I’m pretty sure they made it. All of them have a pretty distinctive--”

Nicolette narrows her eyes. “Wait.”

Marinette looks down at her cup, and then back up into Nicolette’s, calm and steady. “I love MDC too. Since I’m an aspiring designer, I reference everything she makes pretty often. I based my jacket off the one she made for Clara, with a little bit of Dior Spring 2017 for flair.”

“No. Way.” Nicolette’s eyes set themselves on the lapel of her blazer. “No, no, no, there’s no way.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, looks at Marinette and then Nicolette. Nicolette’s mouth hangs slightly ajar while Marinette holds her cup of coffee. He feels like he’s missing something here, but he’s not exactly sure what. MDC. Marinette. MDC. Marinette.

He pauses. What is Marinette’s last name again? He thinks he’s heard it at least once before-- must have, because they needed to state their full name for the court records-- but what?

Nicolette squeals and takes Marinette’s hands. Still, she knows when to keep things a secret; since Marinette hasn’t revealed her identity yet, there must be a reason why she wants to keep it a secret. Marinette saved her, so there’s no way that Nicolette is going to betray her trust. Plus, this might give Nicolette a huge break if she plays her cards right.

Apparently, Nicolette deems Damian either to be nobody important, or somebody who’s already in confidence with this secret that Marinette is keeping, so she lowers her voice just enough so that the three at the table can hear. “I cannot believe that I’ve met you. I can’t believe that you saved me! Do you know how kickass that is? Half of the designers who are working for us look like they’re fragile enough to blow away if one more needle stabs them. Oh my god. I can’t believe this. This is one of the best days of my life.”

For her part, Marinette looks confused, with an underlying current of either amusement and possibly anxiety. “They are pretty new to the industry. It’s rare to meet another fan!”

“Don’t play me like that. I got my job for a reason. I was one of the top scorers in business school and might have been hired for my background in technology, but the reason why I had an emphasis on fashion is because I am obsessed with couture. And when I get obsessed, it’s pretty easy for me to see when it’s one of my favorite designer’s styles.”

“Thanks for thinking that I copied them so well!” Marinette smiles, and Damian almost doesn’t catch the hint of tension in her shoulders. “I do have a lot of free time on my hands though. High school student and all.”

Marinette has learned to lie very well. After years of hiding life-altering secrets, she has to be. There’s a lot riding on her ability to keep silent. Paris, for example.

Unfortunately for her, the two people at the table aren’t fooled by her act. Damian pieces it together from context clues and a quick glance in his contact list, where Marinette is listed as “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Nicolette, on the other hand, is very well versed in MDC’s past designs, and also has the conviction to follow through with her beliefs.

Marinette’s denial of her alter-ego is not outlandish. She’s a teenage girl, and perhaps not ready to face the media storm that would come after outing herself to the public. So Nicolette drops the issue, and Damian doesn’t comment. She hums, pulls out a business card and says, “Well, your construction on your blazer is much better than we see with interns usually. If you’re ever interested in coming to Dior, just shoot me a message. I’d be glad to give you a referral or help in any way. It’s the least I can do.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m not sure, but I’m thinking of trying to intern this summer.” Marinette isn’t sure that she can, what with her duties as Ladybug that will inevitably pull her away from her internship and will not reflect well on her work ethic (she really needs to take down Hawkmoth before she gets into college, or at least before she gets into the working world), but it would be nice to intern for one of the biggest fashion companies. And honestly, after knowing how awfully Gabriel treats his own son, she’s not sure she wants to find out how he treats his interns.

“Please Marinette,” Nicolette says, eyes twinkling. “With your skills, I can land you more than an intern position. But it was nice catching up. We should do this again, sometime.”

“It was nice,” Damian says, and he finds that he means it. More than nice, actually. Damian knows more about Marinette now, and he’s sure that there’s even more for him to discover. She certainly keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.

“Definitely.”

“Eugh. Damian, would you please throw out that shirt of yours?” Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Mustard yellow is not your shade. How is it that the one colored shirt that you have in your wardrobe is also the ugliest thing you own?”

Since they now see each other on an almost daily basis and Marinette’s proclivity for fashion has been outed, she voices her distaste with Damian’s limited fashion sense more often than not. The boy knows how to work a good black t-shirt and jeans, but not much else. She asked him if he was trying to go for the emo look, yesterday, and when he said no, she demanded that he wear something with color the following day, So, Damian flipped through the clothes that he brought with him to France, and found that the only colored clothing he brought was a t-shirt he doesn’t even remember packing.

“I’m wearing something colorful,” he says. “You told me to.”

“If I knew that this was the only thing that you owned in color, I would have gladly let you remain in your emo phase.” Marinette sighs. “Now that I know this is your only option and that you are not an emo, I have no choice.”

In the time that has passed since the two of them met with Nicolette, Marinette has not acknowledged the elephant in the room. She has said nothing of her relation to MDC, but it’s not hard to figure it out. Damian spent the night after they met up with Nicolette looking at a collection of all the things that MDC has designed and found a very distinctive logo sewn into each. This logo is also found on all of the things that are up in Marinette’s room, but he hasn’t mentioned it. Thus, the two of them pretend that she is just an aspiring designer, rather than one who already has high-end clientele.

With a dramatic swoon and an intake of breath, Marinette says, “I suppose I must help you with your wardrobe. The reformation of one Damian Grayson has now been entrusted to me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The mention of Damian’s fake last name makes him bristle more than the jab at his clothing colors.

“My wardrobe is fine. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

“Damian. You interact with maybe five people on a regular basis in Paris. Renee doesn’t think you can do a single bad thing in the world, and his Nonna and Nonno aren’t going to say anything about your fashion choices. The barista at the cafe is head over heels for you and clearly doesn’t think about anything but your pretty eyes and the muscles under your t-shirt. Maman and Papa just think that you’re a teenager who doesn’t have more than one outfit, and that you’re possibly emo.” Marinette pauses. “You do have more than one outfit, right?”

Damian scoffs. He may not know fashion, but he can certainly afford more than one outfit. Still, Marinette doesn’t know much about him in terms of family or finance. They’ve kept everything very surface level, though he’s sure that she has her own assumptions. He has his own about her, though he does have more information to work with. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something big, though. The way they keep meeting up after akumas and the way she’s able to take people down so easily when Damian knows that she doesn’t actually go to the martial arts class down the street from Francois Dupont. But every time he tries to think about it for too long, something else draws his attention. His train of thought always slips away.

“Don’t you scoff at me young man. I am now obligated to help you, you poor, misguided soul. I am going to dress you to impress.” Her grin broadens. “I bet that I can get that barista to ask you on a date. What would you prefer; for her to leave her number on a cup, for her to silently drool over you, or for her to try to work up the nerve to ask you out directly?”

“I don’t want her to ask me out at all.” He leans back onto the armrest of the sofa and assesses her.

“Come on, Damian. You need to make more friends. Go out. Live a little!”

“This, coming from you,” Damian says amusedly. Marinette and his brothers would get along splendidly, if they ever met. Not that they will.

Marinette huffs. “I certainly have more friends than you, and I definitely interact with way more people than you do.”

“That’s what you get for working in customer service. And also for having some sort of moral obligation to save the world.”

At this, Marinette almost stutters. Her mind instantly goes to Ladybug. But Damian can’t know. All of the times that she’s seen him on scene after an akuma attack, they were all coincidences. They have to be.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to save everyone and their uncle from stalkers and continue to intervene in random street fights, but where I’m from, that certainly doesn’t happen very often.”

Oh. Oh, he is talking about her civilian form. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.

“Funny, because you always seem to step in to help whenever you see me.” Marinette frowns. “Say, where are you from, anyways? I know you’re from America, which explains why you have such horrible fashion sense, but where?” Marinette cracks a smile, thinking of Damian in American stereotypes.

“So what was it? A surfer? A cowboy? Oh my god, a skater boy,” she cackles. She can totally see it. The slightly rebellious slightly punk combo. There’s no way that Damian wasn’t a skater boy back in the states.

Damian looks insulted. “I was not a skater boy. If you must know, I’m from Gotham.”

Is that too much information? He regrets it almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he has gotten too relaxed in her presence. That isn’t good. He can’t let things slip like that. He should have redirected her, let him think that he was from New York, or that he was a skater boy. If Marinette decides to look up Damian and Gotham, there are a good number of photos of him alongside his real last name. Then she’ll wonder why he lied to begin with. That will be bad. That can’t happen.

She considers him. “You’ve really got it rough, don’t you? Moving from one crime infested city to the next. Gotham’s worse, though. At least here, we’ve only got two overpowered villains and a bunch of victims. Over there… the likes of the Joker and Two-Face? They hurt people, and there’s no Miraculous Cure from Ladybug to fix the damage they’ve done. Honestly, I’m surprised that you don’t avoid danger at every turn.”

Gothamites do tend to avoid danger much more than their Parisian counterparts. Gothamites walk with purpose and are rarely out on the streets longer than they absolutely have to be; they’re a smart bunch, who don’t want to get involved if they don’t have to. Most people keep their cards close to their chest, and don’t let people know that they care.

Damian doesn’t think it’s bad, though he does have to admit that Paris is less dangerous. Frustrating, because he can’t do much when a situation arises, but it’s almost nice how normal he feels in Paris. That’s something he hasn’t gotten to experience much of, and while the first few days were weird, he’s settled into a sort of routine. He gets along with Marinette a hell of a lot better than any of his classmates back in Gotham, except for maybe Kent, but he and Kent rarely see each other during school hours.

Marinette breezes back to talking about fashion, almost as if she knows that she’s getting into territory that neither of them are quite ready to go into, and Damian gladly accepts it.

She claps her hands and says, “We’re going shopping. Let’s get you a wardrobe that makes your loved ones proud.”

It doesn’t escape Damian’s notice that she says loved ones instead of parents, and wonders if she knows more than he thinks she does. He wonders if she already knows that he’s Damian Wayne. Somehow, he doubts that she knows or cares that he is the son of an American billionaire with mommy issues. But it does feel good to have someone that doesn’t assume things about the state of his family. She’s been incredibly noninvasive and patient, backing off as soon as she thinks there’s a possible limit if he ever says more than he means to. Damian wonders if this courtesy is because she doesn’t want her own secrets to get out. It doesn’t matter, whatever the reason.

He’s glad for it.

They’re in her bedroom.

Damian lies on her chaise, tossing a stress ball that he finds on her desk. Marinette sits in her rolling chair, working on a commission.

“Ever thought of opening up a website?” Marinette’s room is nice. It has a feminine charm to it, but nothing overwhelming. Very different from Barbara’s chaotically organized room that has cold cases and theories lying around on every open surface and Cassandra’s weapon filled one.

Marinette hums. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t really have the technical expertise to make it happen.”

“You’ve got Nicolette. I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you with the technological aspect, either.”

At her desk, Marinette’s hands still. “The commissions I get just from word of mouth are pretty amazing. They’re also pretty time consuming.”

Damian can’t tell if he’s pushing too hard. If she’s uncomfortable with what he’s saying. Not for the first time since he’s been around Marinette, Damian wishes that he could read people better.

“But you want to be a fashion designer. You can only do so much with word of mouth.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Marinette counters. “I’ve got years before I can even think about making it big.”

This… annoys him for some reason. Marinette doesn’t have to wait for years before making a splash in the fashion industry. She already is. And she can make an even bigger one if she just makes a way for people to contact her reliably.

He sits up. “You are perfectly capable of achieving your dreams now.Why are you putting what you’re passionate about on hold? It makes little sense to limit yourself when there are celebrities around the world vying for a piece of yours. Even my brothers like your designs, and it’s difficult to catch their attention.”

Briefly, Damian wonders if his words would mean more to her if she knew he is a Wayne. That his brothers are Waynes-- the impossible to please, highly irritable Waynes. He shakes away the thought. Thanks to her everyday hero attitude, she’s gotten to meet a surprising amount of famous people or people on their way to fame, and she treats them no differently when she finds out.

What goes on inside the brain of Marinette is far beyond him. Every time he thinks he has her pegged, she does something that makes his assumptions wrong. It’s frustrating how little he knows about her when he is supposed to be one of the world’s greatest detectives. The one thing that doesn’t change, the only common thread that he can follow is that Marinette cares for people far better than most care for themselves.

It’s only been one month, but Marinette is passionate about everything she does, from helping out her parents at the bakery to all of the random acts of kindness she does around town. The good will she shows people on the streets, whether they’re down on their luck that day or are going through a rough patch is unconventional and awe-inspiring. Anyone she meets who’s in a really bad situation is immediately swept up into endless love and affection and she always continues to meet up with them when they need it. If she comes across a situation where she can help,Marinette always follows through. She drops everything for complete strangers that she meets.

So why can’t she take a stab at her own dreams?

“I don’t have time,” Marinette manages. Damian doesn’t think that he’s seen her breathe since they’ve started this conversation.

“Marinette. Look at me.”

She turns to him, eyes downcast and mind clearly elsewhere.

“Marinette.”

She looks at him. Damian is taken aback at the kind of blue her eyes are. Layers of different shades of blue with flecks that almost look silver surrounding her pupil. Even her eyes have freckles.

“You need to make the time.” And then, she looks so helpless, her eyes full of regret and confusion and anxiousness.

Damian wants to do something. With his hands, or feet, or something. He wants to move, he wants to hold her. He settles for running a hand through his hair, a highly unusual action. He likes his hair neat and doesn’t like tics. They make him feel weak. But if running his hand through his hair can stop him from reaching out to Marinette-- for what, Damian thinks, a hug?--then he’ll do it.

“I’m busy, Damian,” she says plaintively, like she’s begging him to believe her.

Why, though? Damian doesn’t understand. Why can’t she just make a website? God knows his brothers would be all over it. The only reason Tim hasn’t figured out her identity is because he respects the fact that MDC clearly does not want to go public. He’s been trying to hunt down an alternate way to get an MDC commission for months now and has only just stopped short of reaching out to Jagged himself. Damian doesn’t understand why he feels so frustrated at her lack of effort, either. He’s seen plenty of people around him in Gotham give up on their dreams in favor of more practical ways of life. People he knew that were talented and could make it, and he never, ever pushed them. Because it was their life. Their decisions. So why?

Why does it hurt so much when Marinette doesn’t follow her dreams?

“I see. Then if you’re so busy, maybe I should stop taking up your time.” The words taste like blood in his mouth. What is he doing? Being with Marinette makes him feel good. Like he’s worthy of being Bruce Wayne’s blood son and that he’s a good brother. Why should he give that up just because Marinette doesn’t want to grow up?

He drops through the trap door and closes it behind him. He goes back to the apartment his father bought him for his stay in Paris. It is empty, cold, and impersonal. For the first time since he’s met Marinette, Damian desperately wishes that the Justice League would give him permission to be Robin.

2:02 AM | Marinette: Damian?

Marinette: hey im sorry for

Marinette: honestly i don’t even know i

2:06 AM | Marinette: will you help me make a website?

2:10 AM | Damian: ok

Damian: i’ll come over tomorrow after school?

2:12 AM | Marinette: yeah

Marinette: that sounds good

3:30 AM | Marinette: im sorry i don’t really know what for but i’m sorry

Marinette: i felt really horrible

Marinette: im sorry

3:37 AM | Damian: you need to learn how to take care of yourself before you take care of others

Damian: please.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #damian wayne is robin #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

114 notes · View notes

tsukikoayanosuke · 4 years

Text

If It Shines, My Seven Colors Symphony

Summary:

The day Riddle met the boy under the cherry blossoms, his days changed forever.

(HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, OUR KING OF HEARTSLABYUL! We hope you have all the strawberry tart in the world on your special day!)

(Non-Magic + Musician AU, inspired by Your Lie in April)

The sound of piano playing filled the air.

The sixty anniversary piano competition was held in a hall which was filled with people, both to support and enjoy music.

A ten-year-old boy sat in front of the piano, his fingers moving fast and like a machine. Everyone was mesmerized by his playing. It was captivating. The fact that the little boy was able to play the difficult piece by Beethoven without a score left everyone held on to their seats due to the intense play.

The boy had soulless eyes as he plays skillfully, with no emotion showing on his face. He played every note without hesitation. He played and played ...

-----//-----

A boy with red hair and a heart-shaped ahoge was alone in his class, sitting behind his desk with earphones attached. He listened to the song playing loudly in his ear as he scribbles on the sheet music in front of him.

Loud music blocked all sounds, making him oblivious to the classroom door opening and a boy with purple hair and cat ears walked in with a ball in his hand. “Riddle...”

The boy named Riddle Rosehearts didn’t respond. The purplenette threw the ball with full force at Riddle, “Leave yourself WIDE open!”

Riddle quickly dodged the ball flying toward him. “What a boring reaction,” the purplenette scowled as he revealed himself from behind the table.

Riddle turned to the purplenette as he slightly raised his hand in greeting. “Hello to you too, Che’nya.”

Alchemi Alchemivich Pinkaa or Che’nya for short, Riddle’s childhood friend, walked over to the redhead and sat in front of the serious boy. Then, suddenly, pulled out one of Riddle’s earpiece, gaining a grunt from the boy. “Sitting alone in a classroom after school… What are you listening to?” As Che’nya put on the earpiece, he exclaimed excitedly, “Hey! Is this ‘Piece of My World’? What’s playing on every radio station right now? Whoa!”

Riddle just hummed without saying anything, clearly trying to ignore the purplenette and focused on transcribing this new song as his side job.

Che’nya pressed Riddle’s forehead with his index finger, finally, the redhead came to attention. “ You're too gloomy!” he said with a smile. “There was no spark in your eye! We’re seventeen years old, you know! Live your life!”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. It was sudden for Che’nya. “It’s just a trick of the light,” he responded.

Che’nya groaned. “There you go! Conventional wisdom! You get what I mean, don’t you? They don’t! You’re a teenager, so they all have to light up!” He made an explosive motion with his hand. “Be lit!”

Riddle chuckled at Che’nya’s funny acting. The purple-haired boy sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

“You know, Rielle said something the other day,” Che’nya said. “When you are in love with someone, everything looks colorful…” He turned to Riddle. “Maybe you need to find that special someone.”

Riddle shook his head, no longer looking into his Che’nya’s shining golden eyes.

In Che’nya’s eyes, Riddle could bet everything looked colorful.

Unlike him.

Where everything looks like a monotone.

Just like musical scores, like a keyboard.

He remembered the days when his world had started to turn gray. The day he gave up in the middle of a recital.

The autumn Riddle Rosehearts was ten...

He could no longer play the piano.

-----//-----

It just so happened that Riddle was passing by the local park one spring afternoon. That was when he saw something out of place.

A pair of brown shoes.

And a black jacket.

Hanging on a growing tree branch.

He went to the branch and picked up the shoes and jacket. “Are these for marks? Or to ward off evil spirits?”

The cherry blossoms started to fall when a gentle breeze blew by. He looked up and saw a cherry blossom tree standing in an ordinary sea of green.

That was when he heard it.

Music.

A melodica. Playing a nursery rhyme song. Playing pretty well too.

Riddle held onto the items he had previously found as he walked towards the area filled with cherry blossom trees, walking towards the sweet music played by the melodica.

The song drew closer as he picked up speed and took a shortcut to the playground, a pathway in the shade of trees. He closed his eyes, focused on the sound of the instruments and paused when he found the source.

He was not surprised to see children playing in the playground. But what caught his eye ...

Was that boy, standing in the middle of a circle of children dancing, playing a melodica.

Everything I see, everything I hear, everything I feel ...

The boy playing the melodica couldn’t be any older than Riddle, and perhaps younger - no more than sixteen, for sure. His reddish-brown hair, tied in a ponytail bounced with his ahoge as the boy kept bouncing on his toes as he played the instrument, his fingers gracefully pressing every note.

And Riddle found himself staring at the boy.

All the scenery around me began to change color.

The boy continued to play his score while dancing along with the little audience who were still giggling at him happily and Riddle continued to stare with his mouth slightly open, he thought he looked like a creep but he didn’t care.

Riddle hadn’t heard the happy instrument in a long time. He chuckled, thinking about how he looked like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. He took out his cell phone to record this beautiful sight.

The boy spun around, finishing the rest of the song and he waved in a dramatic motion as soon as he was done. He bowed to his audience and the children laughed and applauded.

As the boy straightened up, his eyes met Riddle’s.

Tears...

Tears started to trickle down the boy’s cheeks as he looked at Riddle with his one black, teary, eye. The falling cherry blossoms only made him even more mesmerizing as a gentle breeze blew his hair.

Why is he crying?

The boy coughed slightly as he wiped his tears. “I blew too hard…”

“Big Bro, again!” One of the children said and the boy laughed.

“Again? You kids will love your singing game.”

“Sounds very good, Big Bro!”

“Big Brother, one more time!”

The boy laughed again. “I will, I will, in a moment! We have to choose another song, right? What’s so good? I know this other song-” the boy cut off abruptly and Riddle noticed he was staring at him.

“You!”

Riddle suddenly realized that the boy was pointing at him.

“What are you doing with my stuff?!” The boy had already raised his suspicious shiny melodica, ready to strike him down.

Riddle took a look at the shoes and jacket before looking at the boy in panic. “It’s just a coincidence!”

The boy tilted his head to the side. “Oh.” He lowered the melodic and Riddle let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. But then the boy picked up the melodica again. “Then why take pictures of little kids like pedophile?!”

“Please don’t use your instrument as a weapon,” said Riddle, raising his hands and surrendering. “Well, I ... I enjoyed your performance.”

“Hah?” Cleary, that boy didn’t expect that answer. Though he recovered quickly and sent Riddle a grin. He ran over to Riddle and leaned slightly towards him. “Really? Well, thank you.”

The boy raised his hand towards Riddle. “I’m Jonah,” he said. “What is your name?”

Riddle lowered his head. “I’m ... Riddle.”

Jonah smiled broadly at him, and Riddle thought he could almost see the sparks in his eyes. “Cool! We know each other’s names now. That means we are friends!”

Riddle looked up, blinking. Jonah is still smiling. You can’t just make friends that fast, right?

“Oh!” Jonah looked at his watch. “I’m going to be up soon! I’ve to head right now!”

“Head over? Where?” Riddle asked as Jonah ran to get his things in the sandbox. The brunette smiled as he pointed to the building overlooking the garden, “Over there.”

Riddle’s silver-gray eyes widened at the name of the building.

Night Raven Hall.

“Isn’t that…” Riddle muttered.

“Night Raven Hall.” Jonah answered while carrying a red instrument case covered with various pirate stickers. “I will be performing there today.”

Jonah turned to look at them and smiled brightly.

“I’m a violinist.”

Riddle didn’t know what to do with the feeling building up in his chest, constricting his lungs. He wondered if he should check it out.

“Very well ...” Riddle swallowed hard. “Good luck.”

Grinning, Jonah raised two fingers to his head and tipped them towards him as if giving a brief salute.

Then, he just ran away.

----- // -----

“Wait, wait,” interrupted Che’nya, as Riddle was telling the story in a monotone during his lunch break, after much insinuating how much he had been distracted all day. “Does this Jonah boy have an eye-patch?”

Riddle blinked. “Yes. He’s the cheerful, fun-loving type of guy, and ...” Riddle paused. “Has the biggest smile you have ever seen.”

Che’nya laughed with amusement. “I know this guy.”

“You do?”

Che’nya took a bite from his tuna sandwich. “Yeah. His name is Jonah Argentum. He’s actually a classmate of mine.”

Riddle paused from sipping his tea. “Really? I never heard of him from you.”

Che’nya shrugged. “Yes. He’s a cool guy even though we rarely spend time together.”

“How come?”

“Around this time, Jonah used to stay to practice his violin. You might catch him in the music room if you want to hear him again.”

Riddle only nodded.

----- // -----

Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 9. The Kreutzer.

Riddle knows this song.

He could hear the sound of the violin, even through the closed door. It was a harmonious tune.

Riddle thought that if he hadn’t resolutely avoided the music room during his high school career, he might have met Jonah earlier. There was no way he could stay away from a sound as pure as this. He opened the door carefully, peeking inside.

Jonah didn’t notice him at first, immersed in his playing. He was standing in front of the dark brown piano, outlined by the window, back facing the door, so he never noticed Riddle slowly entering and closing the door behind him.

Outside, other students filled the courtyard with screams and laughter. But Riddle heard none of them – saw none of those - his world at that moment was tied to one thing only.

Jonah’s bow was gentle and flowing, the tone entirely present but more calm and controlled, until there was a sudden, staccato sound, with the bow spring the song danced and all eyes were on Jonah’s agile movements.

Riddle’s fists trembled. In his mind, pink roses were growing wild with Jonah’s every drags filled with emotions, though Riddle could see the small smile on the brunette’s face as he plunged in and continued to break every rule they made for him.

Smashing right onto them.

This… this is still Kreutzer, right?

Wait. This is. It has to be. Riddle was sure. But its wild dynamic, the tempo all over the place made it seem completely different.

And finally, with Jonah’s final note, the sonata ended.

He gasped for breath, bow still raised. Even from behind, Riddle could imagine him grinning widely, an expression of no remorse.

Riddle could help but applaud him. Only then did Jonah turn around, finally realizing that he wasn’t alone in the music room.

Jonah lowered his violin and saluted Riddle with his bow. “Hey there.”

Riddle gave him an awkward wave, realizing he was sort-of intruding. “Hey.”

“Have you been watching me?”

Riddle felt a strange heat on his cheeks when he saw Jonah’s bright and hopeful smile.

“What do you think?” the brown hair asked again.

Riddle was taken back by Jonah’s eagerness. He swallowed hard, forgetting how to string words at all. “That was ...” he began and he didn’t know how to proceed. Jonah’s performance was different; unlike anything he had seen before. Riddle’s own experience with music was rigorous, always following a code, every perfect dictation of the invisible composer. With Jonah, he broke everything he knew. His spontaneity, the sudden burst of life reminded him of his personality. He was talented and Riddle didn’t know enough other adjectives to convey it.

“You did well.” And that was an understatement. Jonah looked like he was waiting for more, so Riddle sat down on the piano bench.

Jonah chuckled, “Thanks. Though, I was all over the place.”

“You were.” Riddle smiled. “It was an organized chaos.”

It made Jonah laugh even louder. “I know, right?” And Riddle laughed with him.

“So how was the performance yesterday?”

“It was fun!” Jonah exclaimed. “I played this song yesterday!”

Really? Honestly, if Jonah had actually played exactly like that yesterday, Riddle was a little worried about him. If it was any other competition or some other show, Jonah would’ve win. But, Riddle looked up yesterday, Jonah’s competition was a formal competition. Jonah barely followed how the score is to be played – He was too spontaneous, his dynamics were on haywire. Did he get judged? Is he even got a place for the next round?

“So ...” Riddle swallowed, worried that he would hurt the brunette’s feelings. “How was it?”

But Jonah only smiled brightly, without the slightest bit of sadness or disappointment. “I won an audience award!” Jonah laughed. “So, I passed to the second round!”

Riddle sighed unconsciously. He was happy. Jonah really was talented, and Riddle was sure the violinist had left a mark on his audience.

Like how he gave color to his life.

He didn’t realize he leaned his elbow on the piano, resting his hand on his cheek until his elbow slips off when the music faded to nothing. It hit a key in a staccato of dissonant notes, and it echoed so wrongly in his head - like a warning bell ringing - that he jerked his arm back with a sharp glare at the offending appendage.

“Do you play?” Jonah asked, after pausing for a moment.

Riddle looked up, alarmed. “What?”

Jonah’s expression shifted into something unreadable. Almost calm. “The piano. You play?”

“No. I don’t,” whispered Riddle. Not anymore. Never again.

“That’s weird,” Jonah casually commented. “Because you keep looking at it, ever since you walked in. And just now, your fingers twitched.” Jonah took a deep breath. “Do you... Want to play? Because you look like you want to.”

Riddle got up to his feet. “I don’t play,” he said, a little harsher than he meant. “Leave it, Jonah.”

Jonah raised his hand, still holding his violin and bow. He visibly took a step back. “Okay, okay.”

The bell rang. Jonah sighed loudly and packed his violin. He slung his bag on his shoulder. Jonah walked away from Riddle, before stopping in the doorway. Without turning back, he said, “See you later.”

Then he was gone, closing the door softly. Riddle looked at the piano, unassuming - accusingly.

Haunting.

What Riddle said was true. But it’s not that simple - not for him.

Riddle can’t play. He’d made a promise.

Although, at this time, he couldn’t remember who it was for.

The thought is hollowing.

----- // ----

“Jonah Argentum! What is the meaning of this?! “Riddle shouted, entering the music room.

At the interruption, Jonah lowered his violin, grinning innocently at Riddle. “Oh, Senior Rosehearts. You came earlier than I expected. How may I serve you?”

“This!” Riddle held up the music sheet in his hand. “Explain yourself! Why did I find this in my locker?”

“That’s the Violin Sonata number ni-”

“I can read, Argentum. You know I can’t play.”

Jonah shrugged. “Oh, I sure know you. Riddle Rosehearts, the greatest pianist of our generation. The Golden Boy, or Queen of Heart for your merciless ways in following the score.” The corners of his lips tugged up. “Right now, I need piano accompaniment, and lo and behold, I found you.”

Riddle vehemently resisted the urge to punch something. Even now, deeply ingrained in him was the pianist’s instinct to keep his hands in good condition. “I. Don’t. Play.”

“Don’t or can’t?” Jonah scoffed. “Looks like you have a hard time deciding it.”

Anger swelled up in Riddle’s chest, and the words that came out weren’t completely him. “This is all a joke to you, right? Because it is so easy for you to play that you expect the same for other people. Just because you can do what you like-”

Jonah laughed. “Easy there, Your Majesty. You also don’t know anything about me, so don’t just talk.” He raised his hands.

Riddle slammed his mouth shut as Jonah turned around, facing the window, leaving Riddle to stare at his back. “It’s really a choice. You can come and play, or you can forget about it. I seem to have written your name on. “

Riddle looked down at his shoes. “You could’ve asked me first.”

“What difference will it make?”

The redhead gripped the sheet music tightly, creating wrinkles on the paper.

----- // -----

The bag felt heavier because of the extra weight of the music sheet.

----- // -----

Riddle sat in front of his dusty black piano.

The keys always had their a protective cover on them, so they weren’t dusty, but everything else - the seat, the back, even the music stand - was covered in a thick layer of dust. This was his mother’s piano, the piano Riddle himself slaved over when he was growing up, slaved over and despised. The piano on which he wiped his tears, the keys he pressed with trembling fingers.

Placing the music sheets into its place, Riddle took a deep breath, then raised his hand and carefully placed his fingers on the keys. They were cold and solid under his skin, but all he had to do was press against them to bring them back to life. All he had to do was move. He memorized the songs, he can play them in the dark with his eyes closed. He knows them. They are a part of him. If he only—

“I didn’t say you could rest! You won’t sleep until you are perfect, so do it!”

Riddle shot up from his chair, knocking the chair down as he pulled his hand away from the keys as if it burned. He cradled his hand tightly to his chest, realized that they were shaking, and the air suddenly felt heavy, suffocating him. It took him a long time to calm down, curling into a little ball in front of the piano. He felt weak and his whole body was trembling.

There was a time when he liked this instrument.

And he wants it back.

----- // -----

It took Riddle three days to finally have the courage back into the music room to see Jonah again. For once in his life, he was willing to admit defeat.

“I ... really, really don’t know about being your accompanist, Jonah.”

He just couldn’t do it, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he wanted to. He was terrified, of the numbness crawling through his hand, until the sounds of bass lag behind the melody, and Riddle was forced to remember the murmurs of the audience when he’d stumbled for the first time in all his years of performing.

He didn’t want to tell Jonah no - not anymore when every fiber of him craved the opposite.

Jonah sighed. “Okay.”

Riddle blinked. “Okay?”

The brunette shrugged. “I sort of just thrust those sheets onto you. You can throw it away if you don’t want to.” He closed his violin case and slung the bag over his shoulder. “If I have to, I can just pull out of the competition. Or go without an accompanist if they allow it.”

Riddle nodded stiffly. “... I don’t want to say no,” he said, “but I’m leaning more in that direction. I’m sorry.”

“I told you, it’s okay,” he grinned weakly. “Don’t stress over that or anything.” He walked past Riddle, before giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “I’m off.”

Riddle turned around. “Where are you going?”

Jonah looked over his shoulder. “The courtyard. Senior Asim invited me to play with the Light Music Club. You can watch us if you want.”

----- // -----

Soon, Riddle found himself in the middle crowd with Che’nya. The Music Club equipment was prepared, and nothing too complicated, but still everyone was restless with excitement. He couldn’t even imagine what the violin and electronic music would have been. But seeing Jonah was enough to build anticipation in his heart.

“For the next song, we’re gonna be featuring Jonah, on the violin!” Cater announced over the microphone. “Ready, man?”

Jonah brought the violin to his chin, grinning at the murmurs that surfaced in the crowd. “Bring it.”

The first chord starts off slow. Soft, as he knew only Jonah with the instrument. Until the bass joined - then the electronic chords, layered under the sound of the strings, built up momentum.

And like a tidal wave, it grew even stronger, a beating heartthrob in Riddle’s veins as he stared transfixed, at the unshakable and beautiful power, that of Jonah Argentum. He pushed the song faster, the grin on his face turning wild until the band was forced to follow him, struggling to keep up with Jonah’s brutal rhythm. His whole body moved to the beat, agile and powerful, and so bright it almost hurt to look too long.

It ended with Jonah banging his bow to the final note, then swinging the bow up, arms outstretched, the tip of the bow pointed toward the sky. The sunlight made the sweat on his face glow, and he was like the way he was breathing heavily, shoulders and chest heaving, but…

He was smiling.

The people clapped, cheering. Riddle could barely clap his hands, mesmerized. Dumbfounded. After that intense performance, Riddle wondered if it could be that he once a day - playing with Jonah, on stage, together - struggling to wow the crowd.

Can be. He wanted it to come true.

The itching sensation had returned, down his fingertips, to his forearm, until it felt very heavy. He wants to play.

He wants to play with Jonah.

----- // -----

“Riddle.” Riddle took of his headphone when Trey placed a plate of strawberry tart in front of him. It was the weekend and Riddle decided he needed a mood booster. Another childhood friend, Trey, opened the family bakery and Riddle always visited him for tea and cake.

"You look happy. Did something good happen?" Trey asked.

Riddle shrugged. “I have met a violinist. He's pretty cool. "

“Oh.” There was a small smile on Trey's face. "You should introduce me to him. I want to see a man who makes you smile again."

Oh.

He hadn’t known he was doing that.

----- // -----

“Jonah, can I ask you something?” That was Riddle’s first question as he entered the music room. Jonah stopped playing and Riddle regretted not having waited a few seconds for another amazing performance.

“Senior Rosehearts” Jonah blinked. But then he nodded. “Of course.”

“Jonah, why are you playing the violin?”

Jonah lowered his violin and bow, humming thoughtfully. “Well ... I always thought musicians were really cool, so I asked my dad for a violin, and they signed me up with music lessons,”

“So you chose to play it?”

“Yes,” said Jonah. “But, I think since then, my reasons have changed a little. I started playing it because I thought people who could play an instrument were cool, but I kept playing because I fell in love with him. I keep playing because I can make my parents smile. I keep playing because, well, I guess ... music is my friend, you know? When I’m pissed off, when I’m angry, when something’s wrong ... I’ll take my violin outside and just play it. Music is one of the few things in the world that won’t judge you and only accepts you for who you are. And, you know, I need it sometimes. “

Riddle accepted this, and he thought, for a moment, that he and Jonah came from completely different backgrounds, not only as humans, but as musicians as well.

“… I want what you have,” said Riddle, and the words shocked him as much as they surprised Jonah, the look on his face. “Your passion, your love ... the way you play the violin with so many ... so many feelings, like there’s nowhere in the world you want more ... I ... I want that.”

It seems foolish to say it, but Jonah didn’t think of it that way. He put down his violin and walked towards Riddle. Slowly he raised his hand, resting it on the redhead’s shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” said Jonah, and the words buried him somewhere deep in Riddle’s heart. “I mean, I’m not the most skilled and we don’t really know each other well. But we musicians have to stick together, right? “He smiled softly. “If you want to play with me, if you will let me… I think I can help you. I will give it my best shot. “

It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t a solution, but Riddle felt a spark within him, something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

Maybe it was excitement. Anticipation. For the first time in his life, he wanted to know what the future would be like. He wants to move forward.

----- // -----

Riddle managed to finish the piece the next day. It was a battle, and it was a tough fight, and there were several times when he wanted to give up, when he wanted to slam the case over the locks again and call Jonah to tell him he couldn’t do it ...

But he wants to play with Jonah. He wanted to play the piano and like it as much as Jonah liked his violin. He wanted that, he wanted it so badly.

So, he finished with that thought. He got through it, and it was difficult, it was very difficult, but Jonah chose the good part, this, that Riddle didn’t have much baggage.

If it had been another part, it might have been different, but this ... this was a good choice, even if just a coincidence.

Riddle passed by once one day, gave himself a day off, then tried again. He also tried again after that. And again. And again.

Again.

And this time, he wasn’t forced to try again. He did it because he wanted to, because he wanted what Jonah had, because he wanted to stand on that stage, and he wanted to press his fingers into the keys, because— He wanted to be a musician.

----- // -----

“Are you ready?”

Riddle took a breath through his nose, then nodded and let it out. “I think so,” he said, and the two of them headed backstage with the other competitors.

Jonah looked nervous, or, at least fidgety, and frankly, Riddle felt the same way. Every instinct he had was saying no, screaming that it was a bad idea and that he shouldn’t step on that stage, but… He wanted to…

... He longed to...

It was their turn before he was ready, and Riddle followed Jonah onto the stage. They bowed, the crowd cheered, and when the applause died down and the silence returned, Riddle sat at the piano, and Jonah raised his violin.

It is okay. Riddle took a deep breath. It is okay. This is good. Just go straight through this song, and ...

“Are you ready?” Jonah asked calmly, and Riddle stared at him.

Riddle wasn’t ready, not really, and he wasn’t sure he would, or even be.

But, after a moment, he nodded and raised his finger over the lock. Jonah readied his bow, hovered over the ropes, and with a sure nod to Riddle they shot straight for it.

It was fine at first, but Jonah was reckless, just as Riddle thought. The dynamics were odd, the way he played was strange, but they were perfect at the same time, even as Riddle struggled to adjust the tempo and his fingers flew across the keys. It started well, it started well, in fact, it was better than Riddle expected.

Except-

“What are you doing!? That’s not what it was meant to be played! Start at the top again!”

And Riddle began to drown. He fought it, he struggled to keep his fingers moving, struggled to keep his mind in the here and now and nothing else, but his thoughts were swirling as his eyesight spun, and his ears were ringing until he couldn’t hear the piano, until he couldn’t hear the violin, until the only thing he heard was his memories and haunting thoughts and—

He stopped.

The ringing was cut, and he could hear Jonah’s violin, shrill and steady and there, but not the piano.

Riddle rested his hands on his feet, teeth clenched behind his lips, eyes burning. He heard whispers rising from the audience behind Jonah’s playing, and although it was muffled and Riddle couldn’t make out the words, he could guess what they were saying.

He felt guilty. If he keeps playing he will spoil it for Jonah. The boy should have chosen someone else. He knew he couldn’t—

The violin stopped.

Riddle’s head snapped up, his eyes were wide open, and he saw Jonah lower his bow arm, violin strings sparkling in the overhead lamp. The audience muttered and whispered louder now, and Riddle could pick up on some common keywords like stop and why and competition, but he ignored them.

Jonah... Stopped.

In a competition like this, it was an automatic disqualification, for Jonah stop like that in the middle of his piece. Riddle could see the judges scribbling something on their clipboard and he knew right away that Jonah wasn’t going to advance now, that he won’t move on, but— Jonah didn’t have to stop. He didn’t do it.

So what-

“... Senior Rosehearts.”

Jonah’s voice was low, and his head was raised towards the audience, though his words were directed at Riddle.

“... Your passion,” said Jonah. “Your love, your ambition ... Your goal ... Even now, today, this second ... It is yours and no one else’s.” Riddle could only stare. “They are yours, and no one can take it from you. No one.“

Riddle gasped, trying to think of something to say, but at this moment, words failed, and all he heard was Jonah’s voice. All he saw was Jonah’s smile, as he finally turned to face him.

“Do you ... Want to try again?”

Riddle had never been asked before.

He never wanted to try again before.

But he found himself moving his hands, found himself nodding, and Jonah raising the arm of his bow, and they were gone again.

Again.

This time it was different. Riddle was playing, but he felt ... Different. Something changed, something drastic, and the fingers moved smoothly. He didn’t push himself, didn’t force the melody out, didn’t force his hands to move.

Jonah played with him. The audience got excited and listened attentively, but Riddle didn’t even think about them anymore. His fingers moved as Jonah’s arm dragged the bow along the strings, and Riddle didn’t know why or how but he felt like a kid again, playing a rookie tune to make his father smile, playing without a care, without his mother looming. behind him, without ...

...Without fear.

And he knew it won’t last long. He knew this moment of passion, this moment of love, this moment where he felt like he was playing this piano and not his mother, he knew it wouldn’t last.

But it was happening now, and he seized it. As his fingers danced over the keys, never missing a beat, and Jonah stroking the violin with a combination of grace and intensity, Riddle seized it.

It ended in a hurry.

Riddle’s hand left the key and Jonah swung his bow arm in the air, as he had done so many times. They were both panting heavily, both gasping for breath, both sweating, both-

Smiling.

When Riddle met Jonah’s eyes, sparkling and alive despite the sweat running down his face, he smiled.

Both of them were.

His ears were ringing. His throat felt like cotton. Stiffly, he rose and moved to stand beside Jonah to bow; Jonah had already lowered his violin and bow, and together, the two were facing the audience.

The ringing in Riddle’s ears was cut off, and all he heard was the thundering applause.

It startled him, the transition between ringing to roaring, and he almost stepped back, but held back. He looked at Jonah from the corner of his eye, and Jonah did the same, so that their gazes accidentally met.

Jonah held back his gaze and smile, and with a small jolt of his head toward the audience, they both bowed low.

It was a great show.

And Riddle wants to do it again with Jonah one day.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fic #twst fic #riddle rosehearts #jonah argentum (my oc)#serving raspberry #tw:opt gaiden #cross-posted on ao3 #happy birthday riddle!#this is for ROnah shipper

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aboutcaseyaffleck · 3 years

Text

BOSTON BY CASEY AFFLECK

October 25, 2020 For the record, what follows is nostalgia, false memories, and generalizations. But it’s all true. I grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, across the Charles River from Boston proper. Cambridge was one of the most diverse, multicultural cities in America. It was a beautiful, colorful, vibrant place. People from all over the world lived there, all mixed-up together. It is the place I was born and will return to, God willing. It is the city with the smells and sounds and tastes and people I love the most. Despite how much I loved it, when I look at old photos, I often look like this:

I’m in the front in the blue shirt. My best friend was Michael, the tall kid in the red shirt, whose family came from Barbados. Through the middle school years, anytime we weren’t in school we were roaming the streets like Dickensian urchins.

In the ‘90s, Cambridge got rid of rent control. Families who had lived there for four or five generations were squeezed out. Now the city is gentrified; but when I was growing up there, it was scrappy and beautiful. It was mostly working people, except for West Cambridge—where wealthy families lived, where professors lived. Where Cornel West, Yo-Yo Ma, and the Governor lived. East Cambridge was working-class Portuguese families, butcher shops, funeral parlors, and tow yards. Cambridgeport, where I lived, was mostly poor, Italian, Black, Greek, and Irish families. North Cambridge had some big housing projects and the school where my mom taught fifth grade—in a gigantic cement structure called The Tobin School that felt like it was far away because I would have to take a train AND a bus to get there. In reality, it’s like three miles from where we lived.

This is me hanging out in her classroom:

As people and places evolve, the past always reveals blemishes unseen at the time. However, Massachusetts manages, as time unfolds, to be a place that was so often on the right side. Not always, but often enough that I am proud to be from Cambridge, Massachusetts, no matter what.

From Massachusetts came the first national publication denouncing slavery, America’s “first feminist”, and The Cambridge Woman’s Suffrage League, which formed in 1886. My high school had the first girl to play tackle football in that division. Cambridge voted-in the first openly gay African-American mayor in our country. Right now our mayor is a very popular and forward-thinking Muslim woman who immigrated from Pakistan named Sumbul Siddiqui. We have marvels of architecture, science, and tech. It was in Cambridge that the very first email was ever sent (and received). And every year the Red Sox stand up to the wealthier bullies from the Bronx. These are all things we are immensely proud of, but nobody is resting on these laurels.

I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not.

Luckily, the city’s history isn’t going anywhere, and it hasn’t lost all of its charms. It is a place best seen by walking. So just walk. It’s also seasonal. Different activities for different seasons. But if you can hoof it for a few miles do this: start at the Old North Church and go by Paul Revere House, through Faneuil Hall, by The Old State House through Boston Common, through the Back Bay, go left and pass through Roxbury, another left, and go through South Boston till you hit the water and go left till you hit the Children’s Museum. Sit down and relax. If you just want a path, walk that. Map it or wander around. The city is full of little back streets with lots of character.

MY BOSTON FAVORITES

When looking for things to do and see in the area, you can ask ten people and get ten different answers. You will get a long list of historical buildings, or you will get names of some of the country’s prettiest parks, or you will get pointed toward the campuses of some of the very best schools in the world. But for every Bunker Hill, there are ten other places you haven’t heard of. So I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not. The thing about Boston is you can miss all the best stuff, and you will still leave thinking it is one of the best cities on Earth. Have fun.

Pinocchio Pizza, Harvard Square. I asked my son to describe it. He says, “the food is good but the vibe is fire, old school; whatever, just get a slice and sit on the ground. That’s why I like it.” I have no idea why he wants to sit on the ground, but I guess that’s part of the charm of the place. We’re both vegan so we both scrape the cheese off and eat bread and sauce. That should tell you something.

Oleana Restaurant on Hampshire Street in Cambridge. Chef Ana Sortun is a baller. The food is Turkish inspired, and it is delicious. Always. Friendly people, pretty inside, and it is in a nice residential neighborhood. My dad lived in an apartment a few blocks away behind a Store 24 until he was evicted back in 1989.

Maharaja, Harvard Square. Incredible Indian food. And it has one of the only third-story views of Harvard Square.

Veggie Galaxy is great diner food. It is vegan. It has breakfast, lunch, dinner, milkshakes and other deserts. All day and all night food that is filling and really good.

Life Alive Organic will serve you the healthiest and heartiest meal you can find anywhere. It’s across the street from City Hall, the post office, and the oldest YMCA in the country.

Cantab Lounge, where my dad was a bartender, and then a janitor when he was too drunk to be a bartender. I drank six thousand ginger ales, sitting in the corner at a sticky table while he worked. Forever it was a bar for postal workers that opened at 10 am, where alcoholics ate hard-boiled eggs from jars that had been sitting on the bar top for two weeks. A couple of days after initially writing this, I got an email from the owner. It is being sold after tens of thousands of years. I don’t know why I care because I don’t exactly have any fond memories from the place, but seeing the brick-and-mortar of your childhood torn down is a kind of mid-life, coming-of-age moment. Life is change.

Darwins Ltd coffee shop and attached mini-grocer and sandwich spot. If you get a coffee and then walk west two blocks on Mt. Auburn St. you will discover on your right a nice little park with a fountain to hang out. It is called Longfellow Park. Or you can look to your left and you will see the Charles River, and you can stroll there.

Fomu for dessert.

Zhu Pan Asian Cuisine and True Bistro for good vegan food.

Newbury Comics is famous and cool.

Million Year Picnic is for comic connoisseurs. They are both great. And they were both plagued by roving bands of middle school thieves in my day. The most notorious was named Mathew Maher. He is now a well-known theater actor on Broadway and appeared in the comic book movie Captain Marvel. But back then he stole shit.

Harvard Coop is the best place to browse for books. Especially the kids section. We spend hours there and nobody kicks us out.

After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages [from me] on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is my favorite museum in town, maybe anywhere. It was once her home and it features an indoor garden that is perfect. It also has a great collection of art from around the world. Back on March 18, 1990, two famous paintings were stolen from the museum. As I remember it, a couple of guys showed up in the morning in police uniforms and the guard let them in. They tied the guard up and took a dozen paintings—Vermeer, Rembrandt, Degas—and vanished. The FBI never found them and never found the art. There are two plaques below two empty spaces on the walls to this day. On some days, classical musicians perform in random rooms while you walk around. You won’t want to leave.

Fenway Park. Greatest professional sports arena of any kind. I used to sell sausages in front of the Cask ‘N Flagon, a bar behind The Green Monster.

It is the best baseball bar in the country. When everyone was in the park watching the game, and there was nobody buying food, I would go in and find a seat and watch the game with whoever I was working with; I have seen hundreds of games from every part of the park. After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

Plimoth Plantation is a living museum in Plymouth, which is 40 minutes from Boston. It is amazing. The actors working there are some of the best I have seen anywhere. If you are even mildly interested in history you have to go there.

Fresh Pond is where you can go running or biking. Two and a half-mile loop.

Or you could hit The Emerald Necklace which is a great run that hits many of the best green areas, Franklin Park included. When we were young we would hop the fence and swim in the water. That isn’t done anymore ever, and everyone has grown up and leading better, more responsible lives.

John Weeks Footbridge is a very pretty, very old, brick walking bridge that spans the Charles River. Watching the Charles Regatta from here is awesome. That is in the Fall. But it’s also great any night.

The King School is a grade school not too far from there. It has maybe the best playground in the city. If you are there in the summer you can just walk on. When I was a kid, the King School is where a girl went who I was head over heels in love with. I finally got a shot at winning her heart in my early twenties and blew it.

Mount Auburn Cemetery is beautiful if you like that kind of thing. Lots of cool people are buried there, and the trees and stones are really nice. It’s a maze but just walk uphill. You will reach a monument with a great view of the city.

The American Repertory Theater puts on good plays. I grew up going there cause a friend of my mother’s directed many of the shows and could sneak us in the back. I wasn’t the adult making that decision; had I known better I would have scraped together the ticket price and supported the arts.

Boston Common is beautiful but you have to avoid all the shopping around it. If you have to shop go to:

NOMAD on Mass Ave in Cambridge is a store that you shouldn’t miss. In a world lost to chain stores and general homogenization of everything, Nomad is the real deal. Deb Colburn has been curating this place since I was ten. It is her store, and she has been trying to wake people up to folk art from around the world since Reagan was in office.

Bodega is a hidden high-end sneaker and casual wear store that must be entered through an unmarked door inside a bodega on a nearby side street. It’s cool how they have done it. Great presentation. Kids will like it.

KIDS ACTIVITIES

There are lots of things you can force your kids to do—things they won’t like the sound of at first, but will ultimately enjoy.

IMAGE CAPTIONS, LEFT TO RIGHT

On a rainy day, hop on the T and ride around town all day reading comics. Then stand outside in the warm rain (kids from LA don’t get this much).

Looking at murals. Cambridge has great murals everywhere. They are old and, incredibly, not vandalized. This one has been on this wall near the river since I was a kid. The child is mine and he is sick of walking around Cambridge.

If you feel like a pilgrim hit the gift shop at Plimoth Plantation.

Playing chess at Leavitt & Pierce Tobacco. You can inhale the scent of pipe tobacco without smoking it, and rent a chess set, clock, and table for $2 an hour in a beautiful old, wood-paneled shop with great ambiance.

Going to the oldest YMCA in the country.

Kayaking on the Charles River. You can get your kayak on Soldiers Field Rd. Take it east under all the bridges until you get to the inlet at Kendell Sq. It will all be clear. It will take about an hour.

Climbing the stairs at Harvard Football Stadium.

Reading books at the Harvard Coop.

NEARBY BOSTON

If you wanna go a little farther, go out to Gloucester for the day. Swim, eat, walk around, go back.

Whale watching sounds like a lame tourist trap but seeing whales up close will change the way you think about life on Earth.

You can take the ferry from Downtown Boston to Provincetown. It is a great place to visit or stay a few days while in town. Ptown is the eastern-most point on the continent. I might be making that up, but it’s close. It’s an arm that sticks out into the Atlantic. It’s really lovely there with a great vibe all around. You can’t have a bad time and everyone is super happy to be there. The beaches are all beautiful. Sharks mostly only eat the seals and won’t come any closer to shore than two feet—but if you want to see a great white up close, we can make that happen.

Cape Cod has some great flea markets. If you plan on spending time on vacation with your family you can find some essentials, like a medieval battle helmet, at the flea market.

SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS

30 minutes on the local train line from downtown. Made famous by the Salem witch trials; a fun place to visit and walk around for about 128 minutes. Newburyport and Rockport lines, which depart from Boston’s North Station, stop at the Salem station. You can go into the homes of people who lived during the witch hunt.

The House of the Seven Gables, made famous by American author Nathaniel Hawthorne‘s novel The House of the Seven Gables, is a 1668 colonial mansion in Salem, Massachusetts named for its gables. The house is now a non-profit museum, with an admission fee charged for tours, as well as an active settlement house with programs for children. It was built for Captain John Turner and stayed with the family for three generations.

The Jonathan Corwin House in Salem, Massachusetts, known as The Witch House, was the home of Judge Jonathan Corwin. It is the only structure still standing in Salem with direct ties to the Salem witch trials of 1692, thought to be built between 1620 and 1642. Corwin bought it in 1675 when he was 35, and he lived there for more than 40 years. The house remained in the Corwin family until the mid-19th century and is located in the McIntire Historic District.

A MECCA FOR ARTISTS

Lastly, for centuries, Cambridge has been a mecca for artists, especially writers. Here are some spots to see if you like that kind of thing:

The corner of JFK Street and 1390 Massachusetts Avenue. This is a good spot. Here is why: America’s FIRST PUBLISHED POET was a woman named Anne Bradstreet who died in 1672 and lived on this spot! It went through lots of changes, and 300 years later, by the time I was walking around, it became a great burger place called THE TASTY. In 1996 or whatever, The Tasty appears in the movie Good Will Hunting in the scene when Matt Damon kisses Minnie Driver. It might have also appeared in the film Love Story back in the 70s. I mix them up. Now it is a CVS. God help us.

The Longfellow House. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lived at 105 Brattle Street. The great poet taught at Harvard and lived in the Georgian mansion from 1837 until his death in 1882. Before the author, George Washington used the house as his headquarters during the Siege of Boston. The house is open to the public, and it is where I had my eighth-grade graduation ceremony. The mayor attended and forgot the name of our school in his address to the kids. I heard people mutter that he was drunk. I can’t blame him. I had my first drinks hours before that ceremony.

71 Cherry Street, Cambridge. The woman considered to be American’s FIRST feminist, Margaret Fuller, was born and lived here.

Henry and Alice James lived at 20 Quincy Street. The house was knocked down in 1930 and the Harvard Faculty Club was erected there.

W.E.B. DuBois lived at 20 Flagg Street. The writer and pioneer of civil rights rented a room in this Cambridgeport home from 1890 to 1893. This is blocks from my childhood home. He was the first African American to receive a degree from Harvard.

Robert Frost lived at 35 Brewster Street. Frost, who attended high school in Lawrence, Massachusetts, lived in the West Cambridge home from 1943 to 1963.

T.S. Eliot lived at 16 Ash Street.

E.E. Cummings lived at 104 Irving Street. He was an innovator. He also wrote a poem about “Cambridge Women”. He lived at the Irving Street home from 1892 until about 1917.

Also you can find homes of the genius Nabokov and the great and beloved Julia Childs if you look around.

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#casey affleck #quote #feature #boston

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faulty-writes · 4 years

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Hey, I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader always called Katsuki “sparky” even before they were friends, idk I just like that 😂

[ I have no idea what this is. But it’s what my brain came up with. ]

Childhood was a funny thing. Sometimes you forget the joyful things that happened to you and sometimes the nightmarish memories stick with you. When you were small, you remembered the day recess came to a crashing halt. It had rained the previous day and you were giggling, jumping into the various puddles that scattered the ground. The other kids were screaming and having fun, but you were often by yourself. So you decided you’d have a little fun with the aftermath of the rain, that is until a blood-curdling scream filled the air. “Children back inside!” your teacher called and you watched as a large menacing figure collided with the nearby power lines.

This was your first time catching a fight in action and you were one of the few children who had stayed outside during the fight. The damage that was left behind was incredible, the power had gone out in the surrounding area and several wires had fallen to the ground. Some of which littered the playground. You heard the teacher calling for the students once more but you turned your attention to the large puddle near you. It looked clear and reflected the clouds in the sky, you smiled and ran over.

Ready to jump before someone grabbed your hand, you stumped back and looked at the person. “Come on, stupid! The teacher is calling for you! Gees you’re just like Deku, never listen.” he huffed, his puffy blond hair sticking out everywhere and he wore a sour expression. You pulled your arm away before smiling, “Sparky!” you said and watched his face twist with disgust, “Stop calling me that, stupid!” he snapped before dragging you back to the classroom. But it wasn’t known until later that one of the wires had fallen into that puddle and though Katsuki didn’t know it. He had actually saved your life that day.

In fact, if he hadn’t stopped you from jumping. You would have been electrocuted and when you found that out, at such a young age. It was kind of scary and almost humorous that now the nickname you had for him had a double meaning. Originally you called him sparky because of his quirk. But now, you called him Sparky as a reminder of the day he saved you if it weren’t for him. You would have literally been sparked out of life. Of course, as the years went by and you relocated. You had lost touch with your elementary classmates, not that it mattered much.

Your dream was to become a hero and there was only one school worthy of that, U.A. High and you applied as soon as you could. Of course, getting into the Hero Course was a dream come true and you nearly screamed when you saw that familiar angry blond. “Well, well, well. I’m surprised to see you, Sparky,” you said with a chuckle, and his face twisted with anger. “What the hell did you say!?” he snapped before slamming his fists onto the desk, all the new students jumped away. But you only chuckled in response, “Come now, don’t tell me you don’t remember me?” you said, placing your hand on your hip.

“Why the hell would I remember a dumbass like you!?” he snapped and you shrugged, “Gee, Sparky what a faulty memory you have. You really don’t remember me from elementary school?” you questioned and though Katsuki was still clearly angry, the truth was. He did remember you, “Yeah you’re the annoying kid that always called me by that dumbass name, well fuck off! We’re not friends.” he snapped, “I’m only here for one thing and that’s to beat all you goddamn extras. Got that!?” you shrugged, “I guess so.” you replied before feeling him brush past you. He was still the same angry boy as before.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to be his friend, in fact from the start all of your dedication was directed at him. Some of your friends thought it was crazy, even Tsuyu had grown concerned and mistook your dedication for a crush. But you assured her, Katsuki didn’t have your heart in any way. Still, you always cheered for him during combat and on occasion you had called him your hero and even stood up for him when a few classmates decided to talk shit about him. “Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries,” Tenya began, “But why is it that you defend Bakugou at every turn? I did not know you and him were friends, to begin with.” you shrugged at the question.

Once more the memory of when you were little played through your mind and you turned to stare out the window with a dreamy expression. “Let’s just say I owe him my life in a way and leave it at that,” you responded, though your answer left your classmates more confused. How could you owe Katsuki your life? Frankly, you didn’t care if they understood or not. You had your reasons and they were personal, but Katsuki was growing fed up with your positive attitude toward him and you knew he was going to burst at any moment. Not that you minded, after all. You didn’t find Katsuki to be that scary.

But that could be because you didn’t know the extent of his anger. One day, during training you seemed particularly focused on cheering Katsuki on. Your arms up in the air as he went against Iida. “Yes! Go Sparky! Kick his ass! You’re my hero! Go, go, go!” you cheered, making the rest of Class 1-A feel embarrassed for you. It seems like you had gladly taken the position of cheerleader, “Uh ...y/n, I’m not sure if that’s helping Kacchan.” Midoriya tried to reason with you as he laid his hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off. “What are you talking about Sparky is-” you heard a loud crash before you could finish your sentence and turned to see what had happened.

You gasped as you saw Katsuki’s face buried in the ground and Iida smiling as though he had accomplished something. A growl came from Katsuki before he slammed his fists against the ground and pulled his head up, you could see dirt and blood smeared on his face. His angry stare directed at you, “DAMN YOU. DUMBASS.” he screamed as he pointed a shaky finger at you. “This is your goddamn fault!” you took a step back, feeling your classmate's eyes on you. “Well, they were cheering so much, it probably distracted him.” you heard Denki comment, and Kirishima nodded in agreement.

You growled and turned to face them, “Hey!” you said, a pout on your lips before you pressed a hand against your chest. “At least I support him! What the hell do you guys do? You’re his friends and you don’t even give him any encouragement!” Midoriya placed his hand on your shoulder again. “Uh y/n, you might want to stop,” he suggested before Katsuki’s voice pierced through the air. “WHEN I SEE YOU, I’M GOING TO BLAST YOUR FACE OFF.” he threatened and you tried to ignore the smug looks Denki and Kirishima had before hanging your head. “I’m going to try and escape to the classroom now, please don’t tell Katsuki where I am,” you said before running off.

But Katsuki was quick and you stumbled back as you saw him standing at the entrance of Gym Gamma. You swallowed, raising your hands up. “Hey ...how are you …” you said, feeling sweat build up as Katsuki stomped his way over to you. “What the hell is your problem!?” he snapped before grabbing your wrist and you cried out as he dragged you to the entrance only to pin you against the wall. The fist next to your head made you a little nervous. “Well, answer me, dumbass!” he snapped and you noticed that his face was still covered with smudges of dirt and a few red spots.

You crossed your arms, turning your head away from him. “You don’t remember, do you …” you muttered and Katsuki growled. “Remember what!? Stop playing games, damn it!” he was getting a little sick of you, even as you turned to glare at him. “I’m not playing games!” you snapped back before letting out a sigh, “Look …” you began, lifting your hands up. “You remember that day from elementary school when All Might fought that villain and knocked out the power, Sparky?” you watched his pupils grow small and a deep growl sounded in his throat. The fist next to your head tightened and another shiver ran down your spine. But you couldn’t let him know you were afraid.

“Why the fuck do you keep calling me that!?” he demanded before that hand on the wall reached down to grab your shirt and pull you forward. You gasped and reached up, wrapping your fingers around his arm. “Answer me first, Katsuki …” you said, though you were a little hesitant and your heart was racing. For a moment, Katsuki’s anger faded and he released your shirt. “Yeah, yeah. I remember. What of it?” you swallowed, though your heart was still racing and you felt a little embarrassed to tell him. But maybe if he knew, he wouldn’t be so angry with you.

“I call you Sparky because ...well originally it was because of your quirk, how your explosions would spark from the palm of your hands,” you said, moving your fingers in the process. “But the day after All Might had fought that villain and knocked down the powerlines. I found something out,” you explained, feeling your cheeks flush and Katsuki tilted his head. “What the hell did you find out …” he said, almost like he was pushing you to hurry up. You dropped your hands by your sides. “I was playing in the puddles that day and after the fight, even with the power lines all over the playground. I went to jump into another puddle but you stopped me,” you explained, watching his eyes widen as if he remembered.

“Yeah …” he said, “Well, I learned later that there was a powerline in that puddle and if I had jumped in it. If you hadn’t stopped me, well I wouldn’t be here right now. I guess that just made your nickname Sparky all the more meaningful.” you explained, Katsuki’s eyes were still wide but his face lacked any emotion. His lips were parted as if he didn’t want to believe your story. You chuckled, almost thinking his expression was cute. “I guess that’s why I always call you my hero because in a way you are and well, I never actually got to thank you for what you did, so.” you stepped forward and pressed a hand to the side of his face.

“W-What are you doing?” he questioned before you got onto your tippy toes. You cupped the side of his face and with a smile, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Sparky. Don’t let me down now.” you joked before brushing past him, leaving him with a red face. Maybe you broke him, but you were only speaking the truth. He saved your life and you’d continue to remind him of that. Even if it made him angry, the name Sparky to you represented a friend, a hero, and hopefully something more.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha requests #Anonymous

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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831

When you were a kid...

Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming? I didn’t have a babysitter. My grandparents took care of me and my siblings and cousins when we were growing up; and if they were both busy I was usually the one expected to care for everyone. Which was okay with me, since I was the most ~motherly~ one in our little group anyway.

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? I studied in an all-girls school from kinder to high school. Outside of school, also no boyfriends. The boys at my neighborhood were super rowdy and hated girls, so I didn’t like hanging out with them.

Did you ever play hopscotch at school? For sure. I was a little mischievous - I would steal a bunch of chalk from the classroom so I can doodle a hopscotch court on school grounds for me and my friends to play on. I definitely wasn’t the most goody-two-shoes kid in the beginning, lol.

Did you refuse to eat your vegetables? Yeah, hated them. We have this local brand of instant noodles that have pieces of carrot in it, and I remember grouping all the tiny carrot bits at the edge of my plate. I didn’t learn to feed myself until I was around 8 or 9 though, so prior to that my elders would just include vegetables in all my meals and I’d have no choice.

What did you usually dress up as on Halloween? Some basic costume like a witch or pirate. My mom wasn’t super into Halloween and would just get us costume packs from the toy store. I wanna be the complete opposite for my kids.

What was your favorite television show? As a much younger kid I was into Hi-5. When I got a bit older I liked Pokemon, SpongeBob, The Fairly OddParents, My Life as a Teenage Robot, etc. Then when I got slightly older I started watching the real-life shows too, so like That’s So Raven, Suite Life, Drake and Josh, Zoey 101, Hannah Montana. Did you have D.E.A.R. time in school? (Drop Everything and Read) Yes, a few times each year. When I was still a bookworm it had been one of my favorite segments in school because I got to see other kids reading, which was my favorite hobby then. But by the time I was in high school and stopped reading, I remember always struggling to find a book to bring because I didn’t read anything anymore D: If I remember correctly, I think Athenna lent me most of the books I brought for DEAR time since at the time she was into John Green and YA in general. Did you ever read the 'Magic Treehouse' series? No. I googled it to see the cover, and I know as a kid it wouldn’t have interested me enough to pull it out of its shelf. How about the 'Bailey School Kids' series? Nope. Kids my age were into the Geronimo Stilton and Mr Men/Little Miss series. Do you remember the first movie you ever saw in theaters? Yes, it was a Stuart Little movie when I was maybe 3 or 4. I’m guessing it’s Stuart Little 2, because Google says it came out in 2002 and I was 4 years old then, so it checks out. Who was your best friend in elementary school? Angela was my best friend in some grades, but you know how kids are...once they vibe with someone else, they’ll hang out with them 24/7. Angela was a way more sociable kid so she got close with everyone, while I remained terrible at making friends. If she wasn’t my best friend at the time, I had no one. Did they continue to be your best friend in middle school? We don’t have middle school but I’ll guess that this is like Grade 6 and 7 for us? Anyway, no. ~Middle school~ was worse for me because this was when cliques started to form and material trends became the basis for being visible, e.g. owning a Blackberry, wearing Nike Roshes, getting side bangs lol, etc. I had none of those, so I was left behind both in terms of visibility and having friends. I only had a best friend again by the time I entered Grade 7, in which time I met Gabie and the ball started rolling from there. Did you ever watch 'The Land Before Time' movies? No, I didn’t. Did you ever watch the show 'Arthur'? I don’t think it aired here, so no. I did read Arthur books though; they were one of my favorites. Did the tooth fairy give you a lot of money? I honestly thought the tooth fairy was real. I never told my parents whenever a tooth would come out because I thought it was none of their business. That said, they just genuinely never knew to put money under my pillow because my dumbass never told them hahaha. I’ll never forget how crestfallen I was when I woke up to no money though. How often did you visit your nearest grandparents? I lived with them until I was 10. I only visited my other set of grandparents whenever my dad would come home from abroad, so I didn’t and haven’t ended up being close to them. Did you ever play with 'Little People' toys? Never heard of them but when I looked it up the toys looked familiar, so we probably did. How about Polly Pockets? Yes. Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Pokemon cards and pogs, heh. I also had my fair share of notebooks. Did you get an allowance? No, my parents didn’t teach me how money worked early on. I was a packed lunch kid until high school, and when I did ask for money I – and I’m not kidding – would only get a ₱20 bill, which was only enough to get me a tiny snack. What was your favorite sport to play? What is it now? Track, but then it shifted to table tennis when I joined the table tennis club initially out of peer pressure. What foods did you not like then that you do like now? Chicken curry, definitely. Were you into American Girl dolls? No. What was your first pet and what did you name it? It was a goldfish but I don’t remember whether I named it Goldie or Fishy, lol. Did you ever read the 'Junie B. Jones' books? No. What did you want to be when you were a kid? All the things I wante to be were astronaut, firefighter, veterinarian, and writer. What was your first word? Your first sentence? (If you remember) My parents didn’t keep track of either...I definitely would with my own kids. Have you moved into a new house since you were a kid? Yes, several times. When I was an infant we briefly lived with my dad’s parents in Manila. My mom couldn’t take the poverty and pollution there so we moved to a city in Rizal, where my mom’s parents + some extended family live in a duplex. At one point we switched houses in that duplex, and the unit that we switched to was where I lived for most of my childhood until we moved to our present house by the time I was 10. Were you friends with your neighbors? As a child, yeah. I was mostly friends with the girls though because like I said, the boys were super rowdy and sexist in that they never let us play basketball with them and stuff. Did you enjoy exploring your backyard? We didn’t have a backyard. Did you bake cookies with your grandparents? Sometimes! I would mix the dough and turn them into balls. :) What was your biggest fear when you were a kid? Flying cockroaches, because we had a lot of them in our old duplex unit. I also had an irrational fear of catching TV ads at night because I found them too loud and too vibrant. Who did you look up to most? My dad because I barely saw him as a kid. When he was lower down the ladder at his job he’d be gone six months and only stay with us for one. It wasn’t until I got to high school and he had a much higher position that he was away for only four months and home for one and a half. Did you ever play the 'Reader Rabbit' computer games? I don’t think I’ve heard of that. Did you have a swing set in your backyard? No but we had a relative who had a playground at their place, and we’d go over there often. I spent a good amount of my childhood going as high as I can on their swings. How about a sandbox? Same relative had a sandbox too! It’s my favorite part of a playground and even during playtime in school I would usually be found alone in the sandbox. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? I’m 22 and still don’t know how... Did you ever spy on your neighbors through the window? Sometimes. Our houses were very close to each other and their open window is right across the part of our house that also has an open window, so sometimes we’ll fool around and peek. Were you a teacher's pet in kindergarten? No, but I gave my teachers a reason to remember me because I was the kid that peed their underwear everyday and had to go home in shorts. I’ve always been shy and even as a kid I was unable to ask permission to go to the washroom. Did you ever build a treehouse or a fort in your yard? No, ours was too small to build anything like that. Did you ever find anything interesting in your yard? No, just different types of bugs and caterpillars. Did you ever have 'themed birthdays'? Kinda? My 7th birthday party was mostly a plain, theme-less birthday party, but so much of the decorations and giveaways were Bratz-themed because I was into Bratz at the time. Did your parents let you drink soda? They would have let me but I personally never liked it. Did you ever watch 'The Powerpuff Girls' or 'Dexter's Laboratory'? I watched Powerpuff Girls but not Dexter’s Laboratory. Did you sleep with a blanket or stuffed animal? For the most part I preferred cuddling with a pillow. Did you ever have a night light? For some points in my childhood, yeah. Ultimately, I preferred lights out though. Did you watch 'Winnie the Pooh'? Nope, just read Winnie the Pooh books. Did you ever have an imaginary friend? What was their name? I named them Katrina but I wasn’t imaginative/creative enough, so when seven minutes passed after I created her and she still wasn’t talking back to me, I gave it up haha. What kinds of games did you play with your friends during Recess? Dodgeball was a favorite. We had a big field just right outside our classroom so we’d all go out, pick our teams, and play for the whole 30 minutes. We’d do it for lunch, too. Fortunately our teachers never barred us from playing, because I guess they knew it counts as exercise for us too. Did you dream of being a princess or did you not really care about that? Not really. I wanted to be an astronaut more haha. The only princess-y things I did were to wear my blanket around my neck like a cape, and to wear a tiara on my 7th birthday party. Did you have a special name for your pacifier? What was it? No. Did you watch 'Blues Clues'? Yesssssss. I grew up with Steve and Joe. It was such a fun show to watch. What kind of car did your parents have? I don’t remember the make anymore but we had a black sedan until I was around five. It was mostly broken-down and had no aircon, but it was my dad’s first car so it was his absolute baby and I never had the heart to complain about the car’s flaws to him. He eventually sold it and we had a blue Mitsubishi Lancer after. Did you ever flush anything down the toilet by mistake? I don’t remember ever doing that, thankfully lol. Were you afraid to sleep by yourself? No, I think I was excited to start doing it. Growing up in a cramped duplex, I shared one bedroom with my entire family until I was around 9; so when we moved to our own home, I was the first one to call dibs on a bedroom. What was your favorite subject in elementary school? Language, which is a class where we were just taught basic English grammar. I loved reading as a kid and got fluent in English early on, so I was always a top student in that subject. How often did you go to the park? We don’t have parks. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Chocolate cake from Red Ribbon. Did you ever want to grow up? I never actively ‘wanted’ it because I was already kinda forced to grow up early, what with all the issues happening at home and me having to shield my siblings and cousins from whatever screaming match was happening inside.

#survey #surveys

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