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bazmichaels · 2 years

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Junior High - Part One

I attended Pat Neff Junior High School in the 7th grade. Pat Morris Neff was an American politician, educator, and administrator, and the 28th Governor of Texas from 1921 to 1925, ninth President of Baylor University from 1932 to 1947, and twenty-fifth president of the Southern Baptist Convention from 1944 to 1946. He served as Grand Master of Masons in Texas in 1946. I didn’t know or care about any of that, but Junior High is where school curricula started the heavy-duty Texas exceptionalism propaganda, so our history classes included Texas History, not just World and American History. So, I probably had to actually learn all that stuff about Pat Neff, at least long enough to take the test.

I was incredibly excited to start 7th grade. It was my chance to play sports for my school – in particular, football. (Sadly, there were no ping pong or kickball teams). I had played one season of Pop Warner youth football a couple of years before, but they divided up leagues by both age and weight. I happened to be at the top weight of one of the leagues, so I got there and got stuck playing offensive and defensive line. I didn’t take well to those positions and none of the coaches knew me, so I just sat the bench all season. I knew that in 7th grade I was one of the fast kids, even though I was stocky. I figured I’d have a good chance to play a skill position, or, if not, have a coach teach me how to play on the interior line. We even had a little training camp before classes started, and I bonded with the core members of the team. We hung out before school, at lunch time, and, of course, after school at practice. Heck, I never even saw my girlfriend Brenda starting with training camp until like a week or two after classes started… Uh oh… Yeah, I know, I’m in the future now, too*. So, I no longer had a girlfriend. It was all my fault. 100%. I was a jerk by not even realizing I was being a jerk. I felt terrible, but it was too late. Don’t worry, karma got back at me good in High School.

*credit to the hilarious comedian Mike Birbiglia

OK, well, let’s get back to 7th grade football – that was obviously what was the most important thing to me at the time. I did well in training camp. I was one of the strongest and fastest players on the team. My strength was in my legs and I had a low center of gravity – that’s good for football. We had a three-man backfield. There was a fullback who lined up behind the quarterback, a tailback who stood behind the fullback, and a halfback who lined up on one side or the other of the fullback. I practiced at all three positions and wound up as the starting halfback. As such, I would be a lead blocker for the tailback on running plays, I’d go out as a receiver on passing plays, and I even got a special play for me where I’d roll out and throw a pass – it wound up being a very successful play when we ran it. Most of that was just a waste of time, though, because Hutch was our quarterback. Our best play was when he took the snap and just ran around the outside of the line, turned up field and ran for a touchdown. He was a man among boys. I always wondered how he would compete when guys caught up to him in physical maturity. After Hutch scored, we had to play defense, which I also played. On D, I played cornerback. I don’t have the body type to play cornerback, but I guess the coach was more concerned with speed than build. I did fine in pass coverage, mostly because the other teams didn’t have very good passing games in 7th grade. The most important thing I needed to do was make open field tackles on running plays, so I was more of an outside-outside linebacker. I was also the punter that year. I had the strong lower half and the timing, form, and concentration from kickball to give it a good ride. I had a 63-yard punt that year – I kicked it over the receiver’s head, and it took a great bounce. See uncle Bob? All that kicking in the carport paid off. We were a very good team that year. I think we were undefeated. There were no playoffs or anything in junior high. We just had our last game one day and the season was over. Two more thoughts from football season that year. Every weekday, I had football practice, and I would have to wait for my mother to pick me up after she got off work. That gave me the opportunity to go to Jack in the Box, which was just off campus and get cheap greasy tacos. Delicious and nutritious. Then we’d go back to the school and wait for our parents. We had a diverse team. We had some guys from very traditional Mexican families, some from highly Americanized Hispanic families, middle class and poor guys from all races, and full-blown adolescent cowboys. These guys wore cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans with the Skoal can circle on the back pocket, and cowboy hats, but that was just cosmetic. These 7th graders rode bucking broncos and real friggin’ bulls in rodeos! We didn’t have any real inner-city guys because of where our school was located, but it was still interesting hanging out with all these guys after practice and hearing about the differences in our lives when we were all on the same team.

Next up was basketball season. I played a little basketball when I was younger (had I played in a church league before then?), but it was just another sport in which I could compete. I was relatively tall compared to the other 7th grade athletes in my school (I had reached most of the height I would ever get by then). I had the basic shooting form down, but only an OK touch. I was pretty good at dribbling, but only with my left hand (suck it Northside Baptist teachers). I was best at playing defense. I had quick feet, and I could body up underneath the basket. Unfortunately, I had about a ½ inch vertical leap, so my future as an NBA star was limited right off the bat. I enjoyed running around and trying to improve. I sat the bench sometimes and started sometimes. It was fun, but clearly not my best sport.

Finally, track season came around. This time, the shortest sprint was the 75-yard dash. That was really stretching it out for me, but I eventually got used to it. Besides, I’d have to run the full 100 yards for the 4x100 relay. I once ran a leg in a 4x300 relay, and I thought I was going to crumple up into a little ball about halfway through. I believe I kept throwing the shot and discuss. I was still no good at anything involving jumping. My results were pretty much the same as in the 6th grade city meet – I’d finish just out of the top tier in sprints, and finish at sort of the low end of the top tier in the throwing events. The big difference though is that we had meets all over the greater San Antonio area, and they were much less crowded and hectic than the one giant meet in 6th grade. Meets were great. We’d hang out in the sun with our friends, and then you’d start to get ready for your event, and you’d slowly get your body and mind ready to compete. Then your event would start, and you’d use every ounce of energy you could muster. And then you’d cool off and you were back to hanging out with your friends. I remember music playing in the stadium the whole meet, except when the races were going on. The most memorable song I remember from the track meets was Joy to the World (Jeremiah was a Bullfrog) by Three Dog Night. I also remember getting my only sun burn while I was living in Texas during a track meet in New Braunfels, TX. It was crazy hot that day.

So, let’s see, 7th grade – anything else happen? Oh yeah, the school part. I don’t remember exactly what I learned, but I know I learned some things. I was able to take some advanced classes, and I finally felt challenged. I had to start doing homework, which I enjoyed at that point. It got difficult at times to manage homework with being tired from sports, naturally, so that was a skill I had to learn through trial and error. I took my athletic competitiveness with me to my grades, but I was able to handle a B as a temporary setback, not a life-destroying tragedy. A few kids took their grades too seriously. I had a friend named Frankie, whom I knew from sports. He was tall and fast and was quite good at basketball and football, but I had no idea he took his studies so seriously. He was in one of my AP classes (or should I say I was in one of his AP classes), and we were taking a test. He was always one of the first to finish a test and always got the best score. On this day, however, Frankie was the last one to finish – he was apoplectic trying to finish – pulling on his hair, smacking his head, I think crying. After class, I asked him why he had so much trouble with that test. He said he just couldn’t reliably recall one of the answers in the test. ONE of the answers. He’s another guy I wish I could have kept track of.

8th grade started off much like the 7th grade (without the girlfriend fiasco). The start of school meant the start of football. Our school put in a new playing surface in the football field, which seemed like a great idea, but the grass didn’t grow in like it was supposed to. Our field, it turned out, was a big sand box. It was kind of like playing beach football. There were little patches of grass here and there, but it was impossible to run fast in the sand. We went ahead and played the season, and we just had to handle it. The other big change was that we had enough talent at the school to form two teams that would both play for Neff Jr High. I played the same positions on offense and defense as before and had another good year. As a punter, I had my first punt blocked, and I still remember it today. It was on our home sandpit field. I took the snap, and a guy came busting up the middle, untouched. I didn’t look up and I just went through my normal punting motion. As soon as I kicked the football, he laid out and took the ball right in his stomach with a giant thud. He did not get up. Not for a long time. I kicked the wind right out of him. There is a right way to block a punt and a wrong way to block a punt. That guy learned the difference the hard way that day. I was fine. I just learned to peek up before the punt. There is a timing aspect there that lets you watch the ball through the catch, peek up during the first step and then focus back in to keep your eye on the ball during the kick. If you didn’t do it right, you could either botch receiving the ball from the center or you could shank the punt. I could give you even more pro tips for punting, but I shall leave it up to the reader to pursue the topic further, if so desired.

Next up was 8th grade basketball. I feel like I was significantly better than I was in 7th grade, but then again, so was everyone else. I could dribble a little better with my right hand, but it was still weak. The rest of my game was pretty good, and I was still relatively tall for the 8th grade, even though some other guys started hitting six feet. It was shaping up to be a good season, until… a double plot twist occurred. That’s right – two nearly simultaneous major plot twists in my life story. I don’t know about you, but I’m riveted right now. Now would be a good time to go make some microwave popcorn. That’s where I’m going right now. (I’ll probably have to pee once I stand up, so I’ll take care of that while I’m at it. BRB

Plot twist #1 would suddenly end my basketball season when it was just getting started. Do you remember when I rhetorically and snarkily asked what was the worst thing that could happen by recklessly riding a bicycle at breakneck speeds without a helmet? Well, the worst thing that could happen is worse than what happened to me on my bike, but what happened to me was both really bad and really lucky. I’m not sure why, but I was flying down the road in my 10-speed bicycle, not holding on to my handlebars. I saw a bump in the road coming up, so I reached down to grab the handlebars and I didn’t grab it cleanly, which caused the front wheel to wobble and the bike to go out of control. I was about to wipe out and have a long nasty tumble down the street, when I came to a much more sudden stop, as I slammed full force into the back of a parked flatbed pickup truck. I’m not going to lie. It was embarrassing. Have you heard people talking about everything happening in slow motion when they’re in an accident? Well, that happened to me. I was stunned for a minute after the collision, and then I looked around, saw that the truck family was out in their front yard at the time, made eye contact and sort of nodded, and decided I should get up and get out of there. Nope. Turns out I had run into the back of the truck with my left arm and snapped my humerus clean through. That was definitely not humorous. My body was in shock, and I didn’t feel any pain – until I had to move my arm and then holy mother of God it hurt like nobody’s business. I decided to stay down on the ground for a while. It was nice. The pavement was warm and smooth. Eventually, someone from the truck family came over to check on me. That was the least they could do, and they certainly took their sweet time. I gave them my home phone number, and they called my mother. She came driving down in her Toyota Corolla (no more Mustang, sadly), saw me and almost passed out. I was also bleeding out of my mouth. Somehow some number of people got me into the back seat of the Corolla as I tried not to scream in agony. As I was getting in the car, I finally saw the mangled pile of twisted metal that used to be my bike – yikes!

My mother drove me to the hospital. Potholes are not generally a problem in San Antonio, but the streets on the way to the hospital were spontaneously sprouting potholes in front of our car. Every one of them was unbelievably painful. My mom was trying to drive as carefully and yet quickly as possible. Fun fact about 1970s era Toyota Corollas: they had effectively zero shock absorption!

Once I got to the hospital, they put a hanging cast on my arm and stitched up my lower lip, which I had bitten through. So, yeah, my basketball season came to a sudden and painful end. My bike was destroyed, and I ruined my favorite Crystal Gayle t-shirt*. But I also said I was lucky, and boy was I. I was not wearing a helmet. None of us did. If I had run into the back of that truck with my head instead of my arm, I would be dead. If I hadn’t run into the truck and did a quarter-mile tumble down the street I could have easily hit my head and died in the crash. So, painful lesson learned about bicycle safety, but it turned out ok in the long run.

*Ricky Bobby, Talladega Nights

Stunning plot twist #2 would be the one that dramatically altered the course of my life. At some point in the Fall semester of my 8th grade year, my mother asked me “How would you like to play football at Ohio State?” (No, they weren’t “The” Ohio State University back then.) At the time, they were at the top of the college football world, so I casually said “Sure”, knowing I had as much chance of playing for them as I had of playing for the University of Texas (slim to none). Then she told my sister and me that she had gotten a promotion at work and had accepted a position at the US Air Force Headquarters at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio. I quickly came to the realization that we were moving to Ohio, we were moving soon, and we needed to deal with it. I didn’t know anything about Ohio, other than OSU football and the Bengals, Reds, and Browns, but I figured I’d go wherever my mom went. She was in charge and was doing what she thought was best for us. Anyway, how’s that for a plot twist, huh? Fun fact: The ‘Wright’ part of Wright-Patterson is from the Wright Brothers, whose bicycle shop was in Dayton. You may have thought they were from North Carolina, since the first flight was in Kittyhawk, NC, but they lived and worked in Dayton.

The move happened very quickly. The military is very efficient at moving families from one place to another, and we were in our car, ready for the long trek before I knew it. I had the honor of being the official navigator of the trip, by virtue of me cruising to an A in my 7th grade geography class, which was innovative in that it had a whole section on map reading and navigation. That was a great idea back in the day. So, I got to sit in the front passenger seat and Lieutenant Sulu to my mom’s Captain Kirk. I was armed with a targeted cache of maps, and something called a TripTik, courtesy of AAA.

I’m sure that didn’t sit well with my big sister, who sat in the back with our Beagle, whose name was Dude. I got to name him, and in my school at the time, all the guys called each other ‘dude’. I will stipulate that it was kind of dumb, but I was probably in the 3rd or 4th grade when we got him, so I’m standing by Dude as a good name for that dog.

Once we got the go-ahead from Emgineering (when the car started), we were off and on to the next great adventure in our lives – if we could ever drive out of the state of Texas. It took us the entire first day of driving just to get to the northern border of Texas. After that, states started whizzing by. All the while, your nerdy navigator kept the ship on course, through calm seas and rough waves. Between cities was a piece of cake, as you’d imagine, but I needed to stay on my toes when we passed through a city to make sure we could navigate the peculiarities of each metro area and wind up on the right highway as we left the city. I discovered that I enjoyed working with maps and navigating routes (serious foreshadowing alert!). We were making good time heading up the heart of tornado country, when we stopped for gas in the great city of Memphis, Tennessee. Now I need to tell you about Beagles. According to the AKC, the Beagle is an excellent hunting dog and loyal companion. It is also happy-go-lucky, funny, and cute. A breed described as 'merry' by its fanciers, Beagles are loving and lovable, happy, and companionable, all qualities that make them excellent family dogs. Dude, in particular, was a runner.

Given the chance to go somewhere, he would take off like a rocket and just run for the pure exhilaration of running. He had managed to escape from our yard a few times, and he would always return, although one time it took him 3 days and he brought a friend home with him. But today we were at a gas station right off the highway in Memphis, Tennessee. As soon as my sister opened her car door, Dude shot out of the car like a cannonball and just started sprinting. Now, I was still sporting the hanging cast on my broken arm, and neither my mom nor my sister ever ran anywhere for any reason. I immediately took off running after him, with my hanging cast now a swinging cast. My mom, a chain-smoker, told Linda to stay with the car as she heroically joined the chase. Memphis, overall, is a beautiful and charming city of music and lights. The neighborhood we were in, however, was very low income. It had lots of fences that had holes in them or under them, and lots of large, scary junkyard-type dogs. He worked his way through this maze of fences and dusty yards for a long time, as my mom and I gave gasping chase. We had him cornered in a yard at one point, which he found to be great fun, as he put a move on us that would impress Barry Sanders and continued his journey. Finally, I think he’d seen enough and let us catch him, as he panted and wagged his tail. I picked him up somehow, with a cast on my arm, Dude licked my face and continued to wag his tail. My mom and I trekked back to the gas station. My sister was crying her eyes out – either feeling responsible for the fiasco or preparing to take the blame for it. My mom assured her it wasn’t her fault, but we all needed to be extremely cautious getting into and out of the car. Dude dropped right into a nap and soon we were off on the last leg to Dayton, Ohio. Dayton is about eight or nine hours from Memphis, so I’m guessing we grabbed a hotel room and got to Dayton the next day. As we drove further and further north, we noticed something – it was getting cold. I forgot to mention that we were travelling in the Winter, because in South Texas it hardly mattered. We timed the move so that Linda and I could finish out our first semester of school in Texas and start the second semester in Ohio. Great plan. I just don’t think any of us was ready for the ice and snow, especially Dude. When we got to the condo we rented when we first got there, the first time we let Dude out on the back patio, he lifted his leg to pee, slipped and fell over. Hilarious, am I right? I mean, poor guy, but falling is funny. You may recall, however, that I was still in a hanging cast. I will also add that I had never walked on snow and ice before. So, when I repeatedly fell on the icy sidewalks of our new town in Huber Heights, OH, I could see the humor in it, but damn it hurt.

Yes, we settled into the bustling metropolis of Huber Heights, Ohio. At the time, it wasn’t an incorporated city, it was “America’s Largest Community of Brick Homes” in Wayne Township, Ohio.

I remember a few different parts of the town. It had two Junior High Schools and one High School. I no longer went to Elementary School, so I never noticed where any of those were, although there seemed to be an Elementary School embedded within the Catholic Church down by the main intersection in town, where two major thoroughfares crossed. That intersection turned out to be four strip malls put together. There was at least one gas station, a Kodak film booth, a grocery store of some sort, maybe a Church’s Fried Chicken.

#memoir

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flufflepuffle296 · 4 years

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“Chloe xxx”

I really want Chloé to get another redemption arc, but not because she wants to be Queen Bee again or prove herself to anyone-but because she wants to prove to herself that she can be as awesome as she wants. Also sorry but I rambled here.

I don’t even want it to start because of something big like being rejected or glares from classmates, it could just be she’s chilling in her room and she notices her butler flinching when she calls his name, or she’s watching a show and she wants to be just as cool as the main character, or even just looking around the class and just thinking “why not?”

She then starts calling her butler’s name a little sweeter, takes Sabrina out for coffee at her favourite café this time, pushes Alya’s bag towards her when it falls off the bench. She anonymously donates money to varying charities and doesn’t tell anyone about it. She feels warm when she does it-she doesn’t know why but it almost feels kind of nice. She begins working a shift or two here and there at the hotel. She smiles at Mylene when she walks in (even if she considers that outfit a crime against fashion), and returns pens when she borrows them. Nino loses a USB and Chloé helps in the search party for it (though does it secretly at break and lunch).

Becoming nice to Marinette is harder though. She decides however, that if she wants to be an ok person, she has to give everyone a chance, so buys a yard or two of a nice fabric the girl’s been eyeing for weeks, and posts it with a note signed “-C xxx”. It kind of feels a little nice when Marinette walks in in a pale pink beaded dress that isn’t totally horrible Chloé supposes.

She later realises that saying sorry is another thing she can do to become a better person, and she always kind of wanted to but was too prideful to do so-but no more! She apologises to butler Jean, saying that she’s sorry for screaming at him, firing him, everything.

She then apologises to Sabrina, for treating her as a slave and asking if she wanted to go to that film she’s been rambling about, since they always go for her choice. She also takes all of her homework back that Sabrina was doing for her, and starts working really hard on it.

She goes to the bakery later that week, and orders a large slice of cake, reasoning that she can’t be nice to others if she’s not being nice to herself, therefore she needs this chocolate cake. She then asks Sabine if she can go up to talk to Marinette, who is rather skeptical of her and only allows her in the dining room. She apologises for bullying her all those years, and hands her an envelope signed “-C xxx”. Marinette opens it, to find it full of cash that’s tied in small bundles with labels on.

“Homework soaked-age 7” €3

“Sketchbook ruined-age 10”. €18

“Teacher’s present destroyed-age 14”. €16

Everything she’s physically destroyed or ruined is accounted for and compensated. She then apologises for all the verbal abuse and mean comments, before asking for a truce. Marinette accepts, and points out that since they have a truce, she is obliged to inform Chloé that she has buttercream on her face.

A week later she gets all her homework back: B+, B, A-, B-, A+.

Not her usual report of full marks, but she’ll take it.

She starts working every night at the hotel, from 6pm till 10pm. She refuses to look it though-she is Chloé Bourgeois after all. Her uniform is spotless, her makeup is now impeccable (blue eyeshadow with pale lips? What was she thinking?), and she never has a hair out of place. She begins living on coffee-these grades aren’t going to raise themselves after all -and constantly has an energy drink in her bottle (not that the class is allowed to know that).

Grades: B+, A-, A, B, A+

Getting better...

Once in class, Rose slammed her head on the table (delicately? She somehow slammed her head DELICATELY?), and weeped that she didn’t understand the material. Chloé scribbled an explanation on a sheet of paper, and after class slipped it in Rose’s bag.

The next day, an akuma strikes near the school. They can’t leave because some kids live far away, and Bustier isn’t taking initiative and the class rep is no where to be found. Chloé bites her lip, before standing on the desk and clapping her hands. Once she has the class’ attention, she gives out instructions.

“KIM, IVAN! Grab heavy objects and block the doors. JULEKA, NINO, NATHANAEL! You can lock the windows since you’re the tallest. EVERYONE ELSE! Clear books away and any other things that could cause bruising if knocked over, put bags away, and hide under the desks and benches!”

Everyone stares at her.

“NOW!”

Everyone scrambled to their duties, before hiding under the desks, holding their heads like Chloé instructed.

Grades: A, A-, A+, B+, A+

Nearly there...

She informs her father that she’ll be leaving for a week next month, and tells Bustier and Damocles. She books a plane ticket to New York with her money from working, as well as a hotel room. She packs her bags and leaves, giving her dad a kiss and a hug beforehand and promising that she’ll be safe. She boards her plane and then hauls her bags up to her room, before making a call.

“Who is this?”

“Your daughter, Chloé.”

“I DON’T-oh you. Why have you called me I’m in the middle of working-shouldn’t you be at pre-K?”

“I’m 15 and French ma-but anyway, is it possible if you could promote Marinette’s website-MDC-in return I’ll work for you for free.”

“Oh yes Marinette-the exceptional one. How long will you work?”

“I’m only here a week-I’ll become your assistant even! I know you hate Stephanie.”

“...Fine. I’ll drop her into conversation at an interview if you’re only here a week. Now do not call me unless it’s an emergency. You start tomorrow-8am, sharp, in a fashionable outfit-or you’re fired.”

Chloé smiles as the line goes dead. Her mother may be a dragon, but Chloé can respect that she helps those she cares about.

Even if it isn’t her...

The next day she arrives at the office at 7:45, in a white suit with gold jewellery. Audrey nods, before sending her out with rapid instructions for coffee. Chloé takes her order to the café she requested, and starts reading it out to the barister, only for him to pale and interrupt her halfway through.

“Oh God-you’re ordering for Audrey aren’t you? Oh Lord-HEY AARON! STYLE QUEEN ORDER NO. 37! QUICK!”

The other worker, Aaron, goes white, before flipping every machine on and opening every can he can find in preparation.

“You must be her new assistant-good luck with her, the last one would come in to order her coffee and then sit in the corner and cry so much we set up her own space-look!” The first one says, pointing out to a comfy area of bean bags and pillows.

Chloé cringed. “Nah, worse. I’m her daughter, if you can even call me that, that’s interning for her in exchange for a favour.”

The barister pitied her. “Yikes.”

Chloé takes the coffee being thrusted at her and nods at the two, before sprinting back to the office.

After that week of hell, she still refuses to wear anything other than heels and designer clothes, and her hotel room is immaculate. She packs the night before, and sets off back to Paris in the morning.

MDC takes off after the Style Queen reccommended it briefly in an interview, and Chloé starts helping Marinette manage and organise commission dates and social media, eventually becoming her PR person/caffeination.

She starts working not only her 6pm-10pm shifts, but also a few shifts from 4am-7am a few times a week. She does her homework at lunch and as soon as she gets back from school, even doing it during akuma attacks. She gets through a concealer a week for her bags, and sleeps all weekend.

Grades: A+, A+, A+, A+, A+.

Perfect.

...Or not...

She realises that she can’t maintain this. She can’t survive on 3 hours sleep and an unholy amount of caffeine. She cuts back on her shifts, doing 4 a week at most, and only does homework for a maximum of 2 hours a day. She starts, meditation and yoga, trying to keep her mind peaceful. She still donates to charities, and goes out with Sabrina and shops.

Grades: A, A, A, A, A.

Still pretty good, and she’s happy this time!

She begins doing things more for herself. She’s always wanted to learn Spanish after all. She hires a tutor, and starts working extremely hard to become as fluent as possible by the end of her education.

She learns conversational Spanish in about 6 months of semi-intensive learning, and decides to do something else as well. She starts learning Mandarin with Marinette, and struggles slightly more than she did with Spanish, but she’s still progressing.

She realises that she has a knack for learning languages, and picks more up more easily after she starts learning Spanish, Mandarin and later Portuguese.

One day when she’s out she comes across a homeless man, and offers him some money and brings him a hot meal. She sees others around him in the same situation, and does the same for them.

She then volunteers at the local soup kitchen, feeding hundreds of people on weekends and washing up afterwards. She connects with the homeless and a few refugees, and starts learning Arabic from one of the regulars, in return slipping her a few Euros (basically she gives her €250 every week).

She takes a shift at the bakery, manning the counter and becoming fast friends with Marinette as they practise their Mandarin on one another.

Grades: A+, A+, A+, A+, A+

AND SHE’S HAPPY!!!

She eventually starts applying for universities, listing her abilities and experiences.

• A+ Student

• Volunteer

• Interned for Audrey Bourgeois

• Works at Boulangerie Patisserie

• Works at Le Grand Paris

• Fluent in Spanish, English and Mandarin, knows conversational Arabic and Portuguese, learning Polish.

The more she writes and thinks about the past 4 years, the more she comes to the realisation of

“Holy shit, I’m awesome. I’m an ok person. I’m a good person in fact. I’ve done good things. I’ve made a good impact on society. I did it. I DID IT!!! And I’m going to keep doing it-after all, I’m awesome and people rely on me, plus it makes me feel good. I’m no longer a spoilt 14 year old. I can be good. I am good. I am a good person.”

#mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #chloe redemption #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #ml chloe #miraculous chloe #ml #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #bustiers class #style queen #audrey bourgeois

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hyrule-kingdom-updates · 3 years

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Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

#hku spoilers #Launo Birch

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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ABM: Penelope struggles to make friends at school because she's shy and reserved.

-so of course Daniel comes to the rescue! 🥰

October 14, 2026

Daniel wasn’t phased by too much – at least that’s what he always thought – but he never felt such a mix of emotions than when his middle daughter asked him an innocent question one night at bath time;

“Daddy, why don’t I have friends?”

Daniel just stared at her for a moment as she sat in the bath and played with a few bath toys without looking up at him. She was six and had just started grade one a couple weeks earlier. They assumed she would just keep the few friends she had in kindergarten as they moved up together…she did have friends in kindergarten, right?

“What do you mean you don’t have friends, bug?” Daniel asked softly, stroking her cheek with his finger.

Penelope looked up at him with his same blue eyes, brown hair flattened damply over her forehead and bare shoulders. She pouted and shrugged.

“Talk to me, baby. I thought you had lots of friends at school.” Daniel asked.

Penelope shrugged again and looked back down into the soapy water, “No one plays with me at recess. They all play together and not with me.”

“Did you ask them if you can play with them?” Daniel questioned, taking a face cloth to her face to wash her off.

When the cloth was gone from her face, Penelope shook her head.

“Well, you gotta ask.”

Penelope shifted in the bath water to curl her legs up to her chest and looked back up at him with a pout, whispering out a gentle, “I don’t wanna.”

“That’s how you make friends, miss bug.” Daniel explained gently. “You have to ask to play with them and then you can have all sorts of fun together. What do you do at recess instead?”

“Colour.” Penelope answered. “I like doing that.”

Daniel leaned over to kiss her head, “I know you do.”

He stood up and grabbed the towel from the rack and Penelope carefully got to her feet so he could lift her out onto the bathmat. He dried her as the tub drained.

“Why don’t you ask some of the other kids to colour with you?”

“Because they do it wrong.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Is there only one way to colour?”

“Yes. And they’d ruin my colouring book.”

“Hey.” Daniel held her pouting face in his hands. “I will buy you fifteen more colouring books if one needs to be given up to make friends. That can be your silly-friendship-colouring-book.”

Penelope only frowned, “I don’t want fifteen. That’s too many.”

Daniel sighed as he stared at his daughter for a moment. She blinked at him.

“I want friends like Clemmie.” Penelope whispered. “She has a lot of friends.”

“Clemmie also goes and talks to her classmates to ask them to play with her.” Daniel said as he wrapped her up in a towel.

Penelope’s bottom lip trembled, “I can’t, Daddy.”

“Oh my goodness.” Daniel picked her up and carried her out to her bedroom and set her on the end of her double bed, “Yes, I think you most certainly can.”

“It’s scary.”

“I know it’s scary.” Daniel said as he pulled out her pyjamas from the closet and brought them back over to the bed. “But you have to learn how to make friends so it gets easier when you’re grown up.”

He pulled the towel off her and handed her the little pair of blue underwear.

“Just like getting dressed, right? You used to not know how to get dressed by yourself and now you do it so easily!” Daniel explained as he held out a hand to keep her balanced as she pulled on her underwear and then reached for her pyjama pants.

Penelope sniffled.

“So tomorrow at school, I want you to say hello to one other kid and ask if they want to colour with you at recess or during playtime, okay?”

“What if they say no?” Penelope whimpered as he helped to shuffle her shirt over her head.

Daniel quickly lifted her hair off her shirt and draped the towel around her shoulder so the feeling of her wet hair on her clothes wouldn’t make her uncomfortable – he learned that the hard way before – and ruffled it over her head to try her hair a little, “Well then that’s their loss. But there is going to be someone who would love to play with you. I promise.”

He led her back to the bathroom and she stepped up on the footstool to face the mirror as he brushed out her damp hair. Penelope pondered their conversation, lips pursed and little eyebrows furrowed in almost concentration.

“Who sits beside you in class, bug?” Daniel offered another suggestion.

“I dunno her name.” Penelope answered, standing still as he turned on the hair dryer and ruffled his hand through her wet hair.

“Why don’t you talk to her? Ask if you want to share a snack at lunch?” Daniel suggested loudly to be heard over the hair dryer.

Penelope only frowned, “What do I say?”

Daniel turned off the hair dryer when most of the wetness was tamed and he grabbed the black comb from the counter to pull an even part down the middle of her hair, “You could just introduce yourself. Say: ‘Hi, I’m Penelope. Would you like some of my apple slices?’ Then maybe the next day she will offer some of her snack to share with you.”

Penelope didn’t answer. She stared at her father through the bathroom mirror and watched quietly as he easily tied two braids in her dark hair, finishing each with a thin pink tie around the ends.

“Think you can do that, bug?” Daniel asked, gently draping her braids over her shoulders before leaning down right beside her.

“Can you come to school with me instead, Daddy?” Penelope pouted up at him through the mirror, tears of overwhelm brimming in her eyes.

She turned to look at him and he stared back, their noses almost touching with how close he stood. He sighed softly at the tears in her eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.

“I can’t come to school with you, miss bug. But maybe Mommy can help to introduce you to a few other kids when she drops you off tomorrow morning.”

“I want you to.”

“I have work, baby.”

“Please, Daddy?” Penelope whimpered, bottom lip trembling as tears shimmered in her blue eyes. She looked so sweet with her pink cheeks and little braids and the purple patterned pyjamas she wore…all his daughters knew how to make him melt.

“Oh, Penelope Magnolia, you tug at my heartstrings, little girl.” Daniel huffed lightly. “Alright. I’ll take you to school tomorrow.”

So the very next day, with Florence at home with the toddler, Daniel drove the oldest two girls to school. Clementine said her goodbyes quickly and hurried off to find her friends in the schoolyard. Penelope sat in her car seat, staring out the window to the bustling children in the nearby distance. Daniel watched her through the rear-view mirror for a moment before finally turning off the car and turning around to look at her.

“Ready, bug?”

Penelope sniffled and nodded.

Daniel helped her out of the car and slid her little pink backpack on her shoulders. She was always a little small for her age so she looked extra adorable next to her 6’1” father who nearly had to lean down to hold her hand as they walked towards the school yard. Little copy and paste entering through the gates.

Penelope’s teacher was on yard duty that morning and Daniel headed right up to her. They shared pleasantries – usually it was Florence dropping the girls off – and Penelope hid herself behind her father’s legs under the presence of her classmates and other students. He pet his hand over her hair as he spoke with the teacher quietly about Penelope’s little issue with making friends and the lady pointed out a couple students that may be easily accepting of new buddies.

Daniel thanked her and led Penelope over towards the brick wall of the school. He crouched down in front of her and held she held his hand as he glanced over to one of the girls that the teacher had pointed out. Penelope followed his eyes and shifted nervously.

“You can go up to her and say exactly this: ‘Hi, I’m Penelope. Can I play with you?’.” Daniel instructed as he looked back to his daughter.

Penelope’s eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey.” Daniel gently took her face in his hands to get her to look at him the best she could, “No tears. Daddy would never have you do something that wasn’t safe, right?”

“Right.” Penelope whimpered.

“Okay. So I’ll wait right here while you go ask her to play.” Daniel helped slip her backpack off and set it in the lineup with the others against the wall.

Penelope glanced at him and then the girl playing across the yard with her dolls and then back. Daniel sent her a reassuring smile and nodded her on. He watched as Penelope shuffled across the grass, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she approached the girl. She looked up. There was a pause. The girl smiled and nodded and held out one of her dolls.

Penelope whipped her head back around to Daniel as if to say did you see that! and he just grinned back and blew her a kiss. She waved eagerly and then sat herself down on the grass with the friend that ended up being her best friend straight through to high school. Daniel stayed back a little longer just to make sure she was okay, watching his shy little love bug growing up a little too quickly.

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

Text

[OM!] (American) College!AU Demon Brothers

Scenario: Headcanons on the demon brothers as college students (specifically in the US because I don’t know how college works elsewhere), their possible majors, career goals, extracurriculars, ~GPA~ and whatever else I could think of + how meet you in college

Note: I’m hoping to do a Part 2 with the Undateables but honestly… we’ll see lol. This is based off something ~A~ and I thought of for our specific university but we’ve made it broad enough to share HAHA this turned out VERY long

Lucifer

Majoring in Political Sciences with a minor in Psychology

Pre-Law-- most likely immigration law or child custody (there’s definitely a backstory here)

Initially went to community college for the first two years to save up money to take care of his younger siblings

Rejected an offer to go to an Ivy League because it was too expensive; if his siblings ever found out they’d be furious that he’d give up on that chance, but he knows he can succeed wherever he goes (and besides, family is first)

Transferred into a 4-year university his junior year

Very high GPA-- VERY

In a professional fraternity with Diavolo and Barbatos

He didn’t think he’d join one either but Diavolo was the vice chair when he transferred in and the president the year after so… ~nepotism?~ and also Lucifer is charming as heck so no surprise he’d get in

Also rooms with Diavolo and Barbatos

Goes to the gym regularly just to keep fit; gets goaded by Diavolo and Satan into joining an IM team with his frat brothers and actual brothers-- probably basketball or flag football

Probably meets you at a interclub council meeting and mutters under his breath how useless the board members are and you overhear

“Never have I met more incompetent people.”

“Lmao mood”

“!!!”

Keeps sitting next to you at every interclub meeting then after because at least there’s someone that can keep his mind stimulated (thinks you’re hot if you’re competent btw)

If you somehow meet him on campus, he’s the type of guy to put his hand up and pretend he didn’t see you (just kidding, he always ends up saying hi anyways)

Will Absolutely Lecture You if you are procrastinating on studying especially if your midterm is, like, TOMORROW

Always ends up studying with him because he’s actually focused on studying and glares at you if you get distracted (but hey you get good scores in the end)

Mammon

Majoring in Business Econ/Economics, Minoring in Statistics

(always ends up in the middle of the “is econ a humanities or a STEM major” debate that leaves him left for dead)

Planning to work in Business as Finance -- probably has been treasurer or finance director for a club; can even see him being a banker if it suits his plans better

Goes to a four-year university

Decent GPA (or Lucifer would absolutely destroy him), and does REALLY well in mathematics classes

Would room with Lucifer and his posse if they all go to the same school

Probably in a Business Frat as well because he’s pretty charismatic when it comes down to it but was an RA for some of his years for the free rooming and dining hall privileges

Is a very chill and understanding RA (as in he smokes weed with you when he’s off-duty) but is surprisingly well-versed in dealing with roommate issues

Works part-time (gasp) to buy stuff off of Amazon and go out to places

Spends a lot of time exploring places with his friends, going hiking, rock-climbing, clubbing-- which is expensive, as it turns out, so he needed to be able to afford it somehow

Meets you when you’re eating your lunch outside somewhere and he asks you if you have a dollar he could borrow for a vending machine snack

You exchange numbers with him so he can pay it back (even though you honestly don’t really need it, but why not) and turns out he’s in your GE class

“Heyyy wassup! So glad I have a friend in this class”

“Oh by the way, did you finish the homework? Haha, I forgot it.”

Mammon always repays you for your help in food though so you aren’t complaining

Leviathan

Majoring in Computer Sciences

And honestly that’s too much for me already-- the man is doing computer programming, coding-- WHEW-- and they do NOT rest

Goes to a community college but honestly has no problems cinching internships. The computer is his domain-- online applications are EASY, doing projects NOT as easy, interviews? HARD-- REALLY HARD (someone help him)

Probably intends to work with a big company like Google if only to help supply his income so he can live his life going to AX and buying merch

Most likely moved out of his house mid-college with his online friends (who are luckily compatible with him living-space wise) and visits home once a week

There’s two potential sides you can meet first:

Either you meet him at a convention and you both gush about the same character and anime and somehow find each other online (not college related)

Or his favorite Ruri-chan keychain gets broken off in the computer lab, and you’re the one running after him to give it him

He may or may not owe you his life after that (and if you enjoy anime, well that’s a bonus)

Both of these meetings can happen if he doesn’t recognize you in class because you were in cosplay-- imagine the surprise

The two of you as friends are MASTER PROCRASTINATORS at every assignment the two of you have-- so low-key not a great influence-- but you have fun together watching animes, playing games, talking about life-- anything but actual work

Always ends up scrambling to finish things-- but he keeps doing it because it’s been working for him so far

You help him prepare for interviews because he’s always nervous before each one regardless of how well his application looks

Satan

Majoring in Comparative Literature AND Anthropology (ya boy is doing the whole nine yards)

Planning to get his Master’s and then a PhD in one of his majors (whichever proves to be more engaging for him)-- visibly excited to become a Professor

College was meant for Satan-- like REALLY; the man is in LOVE with learning; most likely to go and be accepted to an Ivy-League after Lucifer but... truly believes you can get a good education anywhere so it depends on his financial standing (and how much scholarship he gets)

Does get a little disgruntled when his classes aren’t available but doesn’t mind learning something new-- if the professor bores him to death, he’ll read the book

Really good at tutoring people; someone suggests that he works as a peer-learning facilitator/writing tutor and he does-- might as well make bank doing something you always do anyways

Joins a writing/journal club as an extracurricular and a club that provides tutoring services to the underserved community-- surprisingly good with kids!

He knows friends in high places, so if he wanted to, could get into any party without batting an eye and his favorite professors love him

Spends a lot of his time going out to the city and exploring places, similarly to Mammon, rock-climbing, hiking, paragliding-- anything

He is VERY well-rounded as you can see; competes with Lucifer to see whose GPA is better though

You probably meet him during office hours, and you can only stare in awe as he asks questions that you had in mind, but better; if you’re visibly confused about something, he’ll take his time to help you too (it’s habit at this point)

Ask him for his contact info and you’ll get it, and maybe repay him in coffee? (You always see him at the cafe on campus.)

Most likely to have a specific spot in a cafe that he is always at that the workers actually save a spot for him or give him his usual order before he even arrives-- may or may not have helped them edit their essays or with their homework as a thank-you so you KNOW they’ll love him forever

The type of person to help you make flashcards and cram if you need it

Asmodeus

Majoring in Dance and Fine Arts (I HC going to NYU specifically)

Considering going for an Master of Fine Arts degree but he might just move to New York and go for being a Broadway Star

College is mainly just training for him and hoping to land gigs in local theater-- and the university theater if there is one-- and building his resume for his big break

Has SO many extracurriculars, all pertaining to his career choice, but also because he enjoys what he does: drama, competitive dance team, acapella, fashion design

Makes an unbelievable amount of friends, incredibly good at networking

The first time you saw him was when he was performing for a local theater and you were in love with his performance, and the next time you saw him in the hallway of a classroom building, you told him how much you enjoyed it

Always accepts compliments about his looks with grace, but there’s something about truly being admired for his acting and singing that has him preening

Invites you to come out to his next performance, and if not his, then to another play-- and it can be a date, but up to you ;)

The man is the KING of Multiple Talents and has big dreams to match

Always finds a way to hang out with you and drag you to every club that he can use his fake-id for (and when he’s actually 21 and above, gets a little offended that he doesn’t get ID’d)

A night in the town with you is always a good night!

Sometimes when he has practical exams coming up, he asks you to watch him perform-- and he likes your compliments but actually takes getting all the moves seriously so you better pay attention!

Most likely to move far away to reach his dreams, but he would take you with him if he could-- his little star

Beelzebub

Majoring in Physiological Sciences

Pre-Nursing or Pre-Sports Medicine

He’s a little undecided, but he’s definitely going to go into the health field because he likes the idea of being able to use his strength to help others

Gets a scholarship from the university because he’s part of the football team, which is actually pretty hard on him because Fall Semester/Quarter he has to keep skipping classes for games

Always brings a snack to eat with him during lecture-- and is not afraid to bring his entire lunch and make it right in the front row, though he tends to stick to the back because they tend to have electrical plugs

You most likely meet him during lecture: he offers you an entire sandwich (not a chip bag, not fruit snacks, an entire LUNCH) because he heard your stomach growl during class

From then on, you collect notes for him when he’s gone from games and even go to games if you aren’t usually the type to just to see how he’s doing; it’s hard trying to find you among the huge bleachers, but he always asks you where you’re sitting anyways

Really appreciate it if you help him study into late at night because it IS hard balancing sports and academics

He most likely doesn’t really have any time for anything else so he usually makes up for it during the rest of the year when training is less to volunteer in the hospital or at the gym as a personal trainer

If you ask him to teach you how to properly lift weights, he’ll definitely help out and the both of you can work out together-- though you feel bad when he has to add four extra weights to each side after you finish your reps

Belphegor

Majoring in Computer Graphics/Animation

Intending to go into making animation or game design-- is one of the brothers who doesn’t really know exactly what he wants to do yet because he’s afraid that doing what he loves as a job will ruin it for him

His family reassures him that they’ll support him whether or not he continues with his path in life, but he’s considering art school and then taking internships in places so he has a better idea on what he wants

Most likely to sell his own original work and become a full-time artist regardless

I think you already know how you meet him-- he’s sleeping in a lecture hall-- either against the wall or on the small piece of wood they call a desk when class ends and he’s still sleeping; and you wake him up

Sleepily thanks you and continues to sleep through every class that you wake him up to; when you ask him why he doesn’t just go home and sleep, he tells you he’s too lazy to walk back and forth from his dorm/apartment to campus (mood)

When you add each other on Snapchat or something, he sends you pics of ‘places to nap’ on campus

You always end up studying together because he’s actually pretty good at understanding lecture stuff despite not being awake for most of it-- apparently he’s used to teaching himself

Will make you art for your birthday and will vehemently refuse payment so he just tells you to take him out for dinner instead

If you talk about how you’re not sure on what you want to do in life too, he’ll probably say ‘mood’ but is most likely to encourage you to do whatever you want to do in life too

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me shall we date?#ngl i would date beel in this au 100%

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julessworldd · 4 years

Text

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots @roger-taylors-car @reigns420 @awildkaitlynhasappeared @ginny-rose-sixx @izzysguitar since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year.

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date. Felt like it was yesterday..

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute..

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms. "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed. Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was.

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros. I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero.

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me. I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings.

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk. It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too.

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything. "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back. "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around.

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat.

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers.

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late."

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room.

"Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled.

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled. Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused.

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around. "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil. "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist.

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me” I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again.

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection.

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe. I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfic #highschool au #Oc!reader #Judith Channing

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trashfor-imagines · 4 years

Text

How I Met Your Mother Father: Haikyū Edition! | 3

Ft. Daichi / Sugawara / Asahi / K. Ukai

Summary: How you met your husband-o! This is also the last part. Let me know if you’d like to see any dating / wedding / married life scenarios with any of the boys I featured in this HIMYMF series. I’m also not afraid to write something a lil spicy spicy dirty for these boys either, you just have to reply / message me what you want. ;) Warnings: None. Sorry for any typos. I’ll be going back and editing. :)

Part 1: Ft. Kuroo / Bokuto / Akaashi / Yaku Part 2: Ft. Oikawa / Iwaizumi / Ushijima / Tendo / Semi

Daichi Sawamura

A shove from behind sent you flying forward onto the ground, rolling your ankle on the way down. A cry escaped your lips from the pain and tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your knee get skimmed from the sidewalk.

A series of shouts became louder and were fast approaching. Glancing up, you watched as the person who had knocked you over scramble to his feet.

You tried to move out of the way quickly as a police officer tackled them back down. Another officer slowed to a jog, kneeling beside you while a third went to help the first officer make the arrest for petty theft from what you could tell.

“I’m Officer Daichi. Are you alright?” he asked, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had sweet brown eyes and a kind smile on his face. Looking him over, you felt your mouth go a bit dry.

Hot cop.

You were today years old when you realized that men in uniform could do it for you.

“I... my ankle hurts,” you managed to say.

His eyes widened and he looked at your feet. He asked for permission before checking out your ankle. The hiss you made when he barely touched you told him it was most likely a sprain.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Since you were injured, I’d like to get a statement for some paperwork. Is that ok?”

You nodded, allowing him to help you up. He was extremely thoughtful and careful with you as he took you to the hospital, holding your hand and making sure you didn’t place too much weight on your injury.

He stayed with you, even after he was done with his paperwork, and the two of you conversed.

Conversation with him was so easy and felt natural. He was quite enigmatic and mature, but every once in a while he’d let his silliness slip, telling jokes to make you laugh.

You talked about everything from your childhoods, your likes and dislikes, beliefs and motivations, work, and honestly no topic felt out of bounds.

When he offered to walk you home, you knew he was doing more than just his civic duty, but you couldn’t say anything other than yes.

You wanted more time with him.

“Miss (Y/N),” he spoke, taking his uniform hat off and holding it in his hands. “I don’t want to abuse my position, but could I freely call you and take you to dinner some time?”

And that was how you and Daichi Sawamura met, confidently marrying a year and a half later.

Sugawara Koshi

It was your first day of school.

Teaching that is.

You moved to Miyagi for an open teaching position for the First Grade.

Last year you were a teaching assistant, however the school didn’t have a classroom for you or a position teaching First Graders so you had to look elsewhere for work.

Invigorated by the excitement of your future here, you were all in and threw yourself into your lesson plans completing them within the first month before school began.

When you saw your classroom, you spent a two days decorating the ceiling of your classroom to reflect the solar system, hanging homemade planets and sticking glow-in-the-dark stars carefully so if you looked closely you could see the constellations.

You had 30 students, so you purchased picture frames, planning for the students to paint or draw something so you could hang them up on the blank wall. You had other art projects for the kids so they could decorate the classroom throughout the year, like making suncatchers and growing their own plant.

On the chalkboard, you wrote out the aisatsu (morning greeting) you wanted your kids to learn, as well as their homework for the first day: “Good morning. If we try, we can do it. Let’s do our best today.”

With your classroom organized how you liked and prepped for tomorrow, you headed to the teacher’s room to review your lesson plans.

The teacher’s desks were grouped in fours and personalized in their own ways. On your desk were a couple of succulents, textbooks for your classes, a cute twin bell clock, an architect desk lamp, and a framed photo of you and your parents the day you graduated from university. Your office supplies were neatly locked away in your desk drawers.

“Hello, you must be (Y/N) Sensei. Welcome,” sounded a kind voice across from you. “I’m Sugawara.”

Looking up, you watched as a man with light grey hair, hazel-brown eyes with a beauty mark under his left eye, and a gentle smile, set his things down on the desk in front of you. Quickly you stood, bowing politely before extending your hand. “It’s so nice to met you, Sugawara Sensei.”

“Just Sugawara will be fine,” he laughed, shaking your hand.

You smiled sweetly. “(Y/N) is fine for me as well.”

“First Grade as well then?” He motioned to the cluster of four desks you were a part of. “We get grouped together by year.”

You nodded, sitting down when he also made a move to sit. “That’s right. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to meet the other teachers.”

“Well between us,” he pointed at the desk beside you, “Yamasaki’s much older than us and usually sleeps at his desk.” He then pointed at the desk beside him. “And Nakamura is also older than us and I’ve noticed she doesn’t get along with other women.”

Your lips formed an O, surprised at this insider information. “Thank you for the warning.”

“We’ve got to look out for each other,” he replied, tidying a few things before picking up his briefcase. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

You could hardly sleep that night, excitement refusing to let your mind rest. When morning came, you were a bit early to school, a coffee and variety of pastries in hand. Dropping your things off at your desk, you left a note on the pastry box, letting Sugawara, Yamasaki, and Nakamura know they should help themselves, before dropping a few things off at your classroom desk and heading to the school gates to line up with the rest of the teachers.

“(Y/N)! Over here.” Looking around, you spotted Sugawara waving at you, that same gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning, Sugawara.”

“Good morning. I hope you have a great first day.”

“Thank you! You as well.”

You enjoyed greeting the students as the filed in through the school gates. They were so cute with their bright yellow bucket hats and wide eyes. It was almost too easy to tell who were first graders.

“Cute, right?”

You glanced at Sugawara and matched his happy smile. “Absolutely!”

When the gates closed, Sugawara asked to walk you to your classroom. It turned out his class was right next to yours.

You went through the morning routine with your class before helping them get settled in and assigning cubby holes and desks.

“Okay students, let’s get along, ok?”

“Okay (Y/N) Sensei!” You almost swooned at how sweet they were.

“The best way to get along is to get to know each other right?”

“Right, (Y/N) Sensei!”

“Today we’re going to go outside and learn how to make friends. Then at the end of the day, you’ll vote on your favorite person to be the class representative. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, (Y/N) Sensei!”

Lining your students up, they quietly held hands and walked in a straight line as you directed them to the grassy school yard that your classroom over looked, a volleyball in hand.

Having them form a big circle with you, class began with introductions around the circle consisting of their names, age, what was a dream they had for their future, what their favorite food was, and what was their favorite hobby.

Sitting in the grass, you started a game where you rolled the volleyball to a student and you would ask them a question about themselves, then they’d roll the ball to someone else and ask them a question. This game went on for a few hours and they were having so much fun, laughing and getting along.

Glancing up at the school building, you thought about how lucky you were to have such a sweet and well behaved class. A figure in a window caught your eye. It was Sugawara. He had opened the window and was leaning against the sill, grinning down at you.

He made a gesture down to you and your class, as if asking “What are you doing?” You bit your bottom lip as you smiled, throwing your hands up and shrugging back at him. Shaking his head, he ducked back inside his classroom, the smile never leaving his face.

Soon, the class went back inside and had lunch. Nap time was after that. Finally at the end of the day, you had them draw pictures you could frame and hang on the wall, and held a class election.

When school was over, you reminded them to do their history book reading for tomorrow and said goodbye to each student individually as they left the classroom, allowing them to hug your legs and say goodbye while you gave them a gentle pat on the head and told each one they did great today.

Leaning against the door frame, you sighed softly, smiling as the last of them disappeared.

“They’re great aren’t they?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled as Sugawara approached you, leaning on the door frame opposite you, the toes of your shoes touching. “They really are.”

It was the end of your first week and the day ended the same, with each student hugging you goodbye and you telling them they did great. And just like every day this week, Sugawara leaned on your classroom’s door frame and chatted with you.

“You really have a special way with them.”

“Yeah?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s true. Even the other first grade students have started whispering about you.”

“W-What? Really?"

He began to list off the whispers he’s heard. “(Y/N) Sensei’s so kind. (Y/N) Sensei’s so fun. (Y/N) Sensei’s cool. (Y/N) Sensei makes me feel good. (Y/N) Sensei’s the best.” He paused, glancing up and meeting your eyes, “(Y/N) Sensei’s beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a faint blush staining your cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m inclined to agree with our students,” his voice dropping low so no one could overhear.

And that’s how you met Sugawara and began dating, marrying two years later.

Asahi Azumane

“Who’s that guy?” you asked your friend who was the project manager running this photoshoot. You adjusted the settings on your camera, eyes dancing between the numbers you were programming and the man in question.

He was insanely tall and physical build was quite intimidating. You wondered if he was a delinquent in school as you snapped a series of test photos, using him as your subject.

“Asahi Azumane. He’s the apparel designer. He created the line you’re shooting today,” she responded, barely glancing up from her phone. “And don’t even think about it.”

“What? Are you worried about me? Is he a bad boy?” you asked, wiggling your brows at her in jest.

She paused and looked you in the eye seriously, before bursting into a loud fit of laughter and walking away. “Let’s get this started already!”

An irritated expression settled onto your features before you cast Asahi another glance, snapping a few more candid photographs of him.

The shoot was long. Drama with the models. You weren’t concerned though. Your rate was hourly and they were paying you big yen for this spread. No, you were more concerned with the tall babe hanging out at the snack table.

Adjusting your camera strap like you were wearing a crossbody purse, you moseyed over to the refreshments, picking up an assortment of things before standing next to the man casually.

“So you designed this line?” you asked. You almost dropped your plate when he jumped in surprise.

“Aha... Sorry, just, you’re asking me?” He smiled awkwardly, clearly embarrassed of his reaction.

You looked at him incredulously, before laughing, gently bumping your hip against the spot just below his own. Good grief he was so much taller than you. He was absolutely your type.

“Yeah. I don’t usually get to talk to the designers when I do these types of shoots. It’s usually an assistant, project manager, or a marketing rep, so this is a really cool moment for me.”

He smiled with more confidence, relaxing visibly.

“So... Tell me about what your vision for this whole line is.”

Just as he became fully confident and the two of you had finally gotten the conversation flowing freely, it had been thirty minutes and it was time to wrap up. You kept in mind your conversation with Asahi and used your knowledge and skillset to capture what it was he envisioned.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to speak to him again.

You didn’t reach out to your friend to bother her about Asahi; you just weren’t that type of girl. Instead you resigned yourself to sighing thoughtfully as you daydreamed about him every once in a while, staring at the photos you’d taken of him in secret.

It was a week after the shoot when your friend called you to meet at her office to pick up your check. You were wondering if you should dress to embarrass her or not when you realized that you might run into Asahi in the same building. Fashionable it was; you even added heels.

You walked confidently into your friend’s office building, slipping into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

Glancing up as the elevator sounded, you sighed - someone was just getting on. You wore a bored expression as the doors opened, but the person standing there immediately changed your attitude.

He looked at you with realization and smiled as he stepped in. “Miss Photographer,” he spoke, his voice friendly and kind.

“Mr. Designer,” you greeted cheekily.

“It’s good to see you again.” He pressed for the floor above your destination. “I saw the photos you submitted. I really loved them. The pictures were exactly what I was hoping for. And I heard marketing is really impressed with your work. I might have overheard them tell the project manager she should hire you again.”

“I think you should give yourself more credit,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the elevator wall. “I wouldn’t have changed my approach if I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Asahi blushed and the two of you started to banter, but you were an observant person and you almost wondered if this man realized he was flirting back with you.

He gravitated closer to you, also leaning against the wall beside you. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he shifted closer and closer before his arm finally touched your own.

Bingo.

The elevator bell pinged your stop and you quickly pulled a business card from your purse and slipped it into his front pants pocket bravely.

“Call me and ask me out, okay? Or I’ll come down here looking for you,” you teased, walking backwards out of the elevator.

“W-What?” he floundered, blushing as he watched you with wide eyes.

You sent him a wink, “Don’t let me wait too long, okay?”

The doors closed and you were absolutely pleased with yourself.

And that’s how you met Asahi Azumane, going on a date two days later and marrying three years after, but this time, you didn’t have to ask.

Ukai Keishin

“Excuse me, do you have-”

“We’re out,” was the dull and bored cut off reply from the employee, his feet propped up on the counter and his face hidden by the newspaper he was reading.

Are you kidding me? Aha!

You snatched the bandaids and alcohol wipes off the shelf, walking up and setting the items on the counter. Your voice was monotone as you spoke, “Found it. Thanks for your help.”

He lowered his newspaper to peek at you before bursting out in large gestures, scrambling to his feet. “Is, uh, is this it for you?” It was almost cute how he was trying to be cool.

“A pack of Cherry cigarettes,” you replied, pulling out your coin purse.

“You know... it’s a bad habit,” he said, grabbing a pack and placing it on the counter.

“Says the man who reeks of smoke.”

“Touché,” he replied, staring at the counter and realizing he definitely messed up his shot.

With a sigh, you brushed your hair behind your ear, “They’re not for me.”

“Oh...” He tried to peek at you inconspicuously. “Boyfriend?”

“If you must know, they’re for my father.”

“Oh!” he visibly perked up at that. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at him.

“So what’s my total?” you asked when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“Right. It’s 950¥.”

“Thank you,” you replied, pulling out some coins and bills.

“Keishin! Keishin, is that a young woman I hear?” a voice from the back room called out. There was some shuffling of footsteps and the man behind the counter visibly stiffened. “Keishin! Is she single?”

“Mom! Please!” he yelled back.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, but you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile.

“Keishin! Don’t yell!” An older woman poked her head out, her eyes landing on you, “She’s beautiful!” She quickly beelined to you around the counter, bowing deeply to you.

“Oh... thank... you,” you froze, unsure of what was happening. You glanced at the man behind the counter - Keishin, you assumed - who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Young miss, my son looks rough, but he’s really a good man. He’s not the smartest, but he’s very strong and has a good heart. He’ll treat his future wife very good. Please consider him.” She stayed bowed and it was getting extremely uncomfortable.

He leaned over the counter and whispered, “She won’t get up unless you give her an answer. Sorry about this.”

You observed the way he looked at his mother and it struck a heartstring. He didn’t look mad or annoyed, or anything of the sort. You could just see that he loved his mother very much.

Turning back to older woman before you, you sighed softly, resigned, and bowed to her in return. “Ma’am, I will consider him.”

The two of them looked up at you in shock.

“WAIT YOU WILL?!”

And that’s how you met Ukai Keishin, marrying exactly one year later.

#daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #sugawara koshi #sugawara x reader #asahi azumane #asahi x reader #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu #volleyboys #how i met your father #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #karasuno

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sue-bts · 4 years

Text

How to Destroy Jeon Jungkook

Chapter 1

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Genre: Eventual Smut/Slow Burn/Highschool AU

Words: 4,821

Summary: Taehyung usually isn't up to much, but Senior year brings about serges of boredom. So, Jimin devises a plan to mess with High School's baddest boy Jeon Jungkook. And Taehyung has to go along with it.

But a two day field trip could ruin it all.

/ AO3 LINK /

Freshman year, for most sane people, is a nightmare. Taehyung’s experience with it was no exception. He sat with his ankles curled in on each other during his first period on his first day of school. Usually, he’d whip out a sketchbook to lazily draw, but he was antsy and didn’t know how strict the teacher would be with the class. The bell hadn’t rung yet, Taehyung was five (agonizing) minutes early. The teacher-later revealed to go by Mr. Min-was casually scrolling his computer, not even glancing at his new freshman class. Taehyung was unaware of his ease, thinking every shift in his desk would alarm the teacher and certainly have him kicked out of school on the first day.

Jungkook was different-well, Taehyung didn’t know his name was Jungkook yet. As the bell finally began to charm, signaling Taehyung’s waiting period to be over, the black haired boy marched into class. He rode the sound of the bell like a pro, like it beckoned him into class. Already eyes were drawn to him, his ease, his stroll. It’s hard to resist people like that, they do what everyone else envisions their ideal self to act like. Taehyung forced himself not to watch the other boy, he wanted to be the one kid who didn’t care, not admit to being an admirer. But he felt the pull to look back up, to trail after the boy’s figure. From the corner of his eye he could see the sweep of black hair, his arms shrugging off his backpack, his dramatic fall into his desk, the boisterous sound of he and his friends exchanging pleasantries. Finally the bell faded out and the class was met with silence. Maybe for a split second there was silence. And then there was Jungkook.

He was obnoxious. Taehyung saw how the teacher already regarded the boy. Eying him up, the lines in the teacher’s face emphasizing his disdain with the boy. Roll call revealed the class clown’s name to be Jeon Jungkook. Many eyelashes batted in the direction of the name, girls were already writing their names with his last name, practicing the sound of the name as it rolled off their tongues. “This is my boyfriend… Jeon Jungkook,” “Oh, last night? It’s so embarrassing…I hooked up with Jeon Jungkook! Can you imagine that?!”

No ones eye’s batted when Kim Taehyung’s name was called, he raised a mild hand up from his scratch paper and the teacher hardly even raised his eyes from his list. Taehyung already felt a tinge of disdain in his stomach for the black haired boy-correction: Jeon Jungkook. Just his name sounded pretentious. But Taehyung couldn’t resist constantly sneaking a peek over at him. He was across the class from Taehyung, at a diagonal, in the perfect position for viewing. And Taehyung, despite his reserves, his morals, always took advantage of this seating arrangement perk.

The moments he lived for were when Jungkook’s eyes would travel and they’d flutter past Taehyung’s gaze, but sometimes they’d catch. The stare would linger, Taehyung looking away, a blush covering his cheeks and his fingers pausing from whatever writing or drawing he was in the midst of. Jungkook’s eyes would always wander away as quickly as they’d come across Taehyung. Maybe it was just a random glance, class was boring and eyes easily wander about. Those moments were chaste, but for the rest of Freshman year Taehyung always longed for them to be more frequent, and for much longer durations.

The glitch in the Matrix-which was Jungkook-did not disrupt Taehyung’s Sophomore or Junior year. Taehyung thought of him as “a glitch in the Matrix” because normal life would be proceeding day to day, and then on a random occasion, Jungkook would once again appear.

Taehyung, not having a class with him anymore, was able to turn a blind eye to the rowdy boy’s antics as he terrorized the campus. Jungkook was always up to something, running around in spring on the quad, wearing little puffy shorts to flaunt his athletic calves. And in winter he’d be tucked away under large jackets and black bucket hats, never walking down stairs but riding the railing, a gaggle of girls following after.

Taehyung would let himself observe, it was like a zoo, a large lion performing a mating dance every day to a different admirer. Taehyung appreciated the distance though, not having a class with Jungkook meant he could easily scurry away before getting anywhere close to the black haired boy. He feared Jungkook to the extent one would fear a vat of poison. Definitely not because of Jungkook’s sharp features, broad shoulders and the way his body was slouched with ease. Taehyung was intimidated in how Jungkook would sit on top of tables in the cafeteria, throwing food at his friends, and during passing period he’d be standing on benches and then jumping onto his friends shoulders, running around like that until yard duty would stop them. Taehyung was content with his Jungkook-free lifestyle, it was quiet and his focus wasn’t interrupted by pretty boys with lazy behavior.

Taehyung’s Jungkook-free lifestyle was ruined when he walked into his English class, Senior year, 6th period, and instantly met eyes with the very boy was he content in never speaking to again

Of course. Taehyung’s luck was just that good.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset by this, you literally have spoken to him like… once? Twice?” Jimin says, veering the car as they head off campus for lunch the next day.

Taehyung winces at Jimin’s driving skills, the wheel continuously driving over the many orange traffic bumps.

“It’s not about me talking to him, Jimin,” Taehyung starts, his face contorted with disgust, “It’s like… I don’t know, his presence annoys me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes with a huff. “Bullshit, more like his looks annoy you.”

Taehyung really wants to punch Jimin’s arm for that comment, sadly Jimin is the one driving and Taehyung is too much of a wimp to commit to that.

“I’ll admit it, I’m one of Jungkook’s many admirers, but I’m of the group of guys who wants to be him, not fuck him.”

Jimin lets out an exasperated huff, his eyes squinting at the road

“Can’t say the same for you though,” Taehyung says, laughing, watching Jimin’s face contort with a sly grin and blush.

“Oh shut up,” Jimin scrunches his nose in the direction of Tae in the passenger seat. “Jungkook is way too much of a whore for me to go after, the whole school can agree his dick has been everywhere.”

“Not everywhere, Jiminie…” Taehyung giggles as they pull up to their favorite taco truck. Jimin does not play along with Taehyung’s grotesque antics. He twists his keys so the car sputters to a quiet, spinning in his seat to face Taehyung head on.

“I think you should give Jungkook a chance, I’ve heard he’s calmed down a lot, I mean it’s senior year, I think everyone has,” Jimin says.

Taehyung wants to agree with his friend, but he can’t drop how irritated he gets by Jungkook’s presence. “I swear Jimin, honest to god, I want to believe you…”

Jimin throws back his head and rolls his eyes, “Agh! Tae! When have I ever been wrong when it comes to guy troubles?!”

They get out of the car and shut the doors almost in unison. Taehyung laughs at Jimin’s question, “Actually, I can recall so many times you’ve been wrong.”

Jimin does a motion with his hand to disregard whatever Taehyung said as they walk towards the truck.

“The point is, I don’t think Jungkook is half bad. I saw him at a party a few weeks ago and he was helping a lot of really drunk people to not throw up all over themselves.”

“Jimin… my appetite…” Taehyung whines, dramatically leaning back and forth like he’s going to be sick.

“Maybe he’s just rowdy in class to get your attention Tae Tae, maybe he’s secretly in love with your little artsy ass,” Jimin muses, his cheeks puffing with a smile. Taehyung wishes he already had his burrito so he could throw it at Jimin’s face.

“Yeah, sure, because I love when boy’s are loud as fuck in class and never sit still.”

“I think my little Tae is in love!!!” Jimin cries out, his high pitch voice alerting some other people’s attention in line. Taehyung looks around in distress with Jimin’s loud proclamation.

“I’m starting to hate you as much as I hate ‘Jeon Jungkook,’” Taehyung says, his low voice a husky whisper until he raises his pitch to say Jungkook’s name, mocking girl’s voices who constantly yell out the name any chance they get.

Jimin is used to ignoring Taehyung though, just smiling back at his friend, “You are going to have so much fun in 6th period, I can’t wait!”

Taehyung curses Jimin when he shows up to his 6th period, burrito in hand, 5 minutes late. The class is nearly dead silent and Mr. Kim looks up from his desktop when he hears the door abruptly slam behind Taehyung. Taehyung noticeably cringes with the noise, everyone turning to look at him when they hear the sudden noice.

“I had people sit where they want today so I could make a seating chart for the year. There’s one seat left so you can take that one,” Mr. Kim says, unapologetically, hardly caring enough to look at Taehyung directly. Mr. Kim doesn’t realize how much pain he is currently inflicting of Taehyung’s body, Taehyung scans the room for the empty desk only to see that it is beside Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.

He should’ve stayed at the fucking taco truck. Taehyung is too done with high school to have to deal with this shit. But he manages to gain control of his limbs and muster the effort to walk over to his empty desk. It’s like walking towards his own execution, the chair daunting and the metal of it cold. Jungkook doesn’t even look up, doesn’t acknowledge that the seat beside him is the one vacant. His dark hair just swoops over his eyes and his shoulders turn away from Taehyung to begin chatting with his friends to his left. Mr. Kim finally stands from his computer and shushes them as he begins the day’s lesson.

Thus begins Day 1 (of sitting next to Jungkook).

“I’m assuming everyone read chapters 8 through eleven last night. So, turn to your seating partner and discuss it for a few minutes, then I’ll hand out the prompt, and on one sheet of paper write down a cohesive response. It’s due by the end of the period,” Mr. Kim says, passing out the prompt paper to the different rows of students.

Taehyung feels a rush of relief with this and turns to his right, face to face with a random girl.

“You’re not my partner,” she says with a little smirk, “he is,” and she points to Jungkook to Taehyung’s left. Taehyung’s stomach drops, how lucky is he?!

“Oh…” Taehyung audibly sighs, slowly pivoting his body to an angle to face Jungkook, but the other boy hardly looks up from his paper. Taehyung scans the paper, it’s still blank, there’s really nothing for Junkgook to be so focused on.

“Uh… so… I did the reading… and I thought the chapters really had a lot to do with religion… and loss of… innocence…?” Taehyung slowly drawls out, words light on his tongue so as not to embarrass him if they end up being wrong interpretations. Jungkook does a small nod but still doesn’t meet Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung gives up with his efforts, making sure to give a large uhmf as he spins in his chair to sit normally. That catches Jungkook’s attention and the boy looks up with a small smile creeping along his featuers. Taehyung tries not to pay notice to the boy’s change in attitude, not wanting to instantly forgive him after being so ignored just before.

“Wait-what’s your name?” Jungkook asks, his voice casual and at ease. Taehyung, on the other hand, is rigid. He wants to grab for his sketchbook and quickly scribble with his lead pressed as hard to the paper as he can before snapping it. He doesn’t know how such a simple question can have him so riled. Maybe it’s in Jungkook’s tone, or how he doesn’t change his posture to even show if he wants an answer.

“Taehyung.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve had a class with you before,” Jungkook says, and his eyes drop from Taehyung to look back at his empty paper. The conversation ends with that. Taehyung doesn’t even try to correct Jungkook and mention their freshman year class. Taehyung was silent that entire year, he doesn’t really expect Jungkook to have noticed him.

“Are you guys going to get started on the assignment?” Mr. Kim asks, interrupting Taehyung’s train of thought. Mr. Kim also has a way about him of nonchalantness, asking a question and already moving on before really getting an answer. He says these things to maintain order in the class, but his eyes never take in the empty sheet. Taehyung grunts a response, something like, oh we’re still thinking about it, but his mind is still hung up on Jungkook.

“I didn’t read,” Jungkook deadpans, dropping his pencil from his hand onto the desk and promptly grabbing his phone and earbuds from his backpack. Taehyung lets out a deep exhale through his nose, his nostrils puffing, and slides the blank paper and prompt sheet onto his desk. It doesn’t seem Jungkook is even apologetic about it either, putting in his ear buds, concealed by the hoodie he pulls over his hair.

“Thanks man,” he mumbles as he fully reclines into his desk and his eyes shut. Taehyung is nearly dumbfounded by Jungkook’s behavior, just watching the other boy in his blissed out state before finally turning his attention back to the assignment.

What. An. Asshole.

Later that night Taehyung tries to convey the story to Jimin over the phone, but Jimin seems to be an avid Jungkook supporter.

“I get it Tae, he’s popular, he’s attractive, and he uses that so he doesn’t have to do his own work… it’s horrible,” Jimin sighs, his voice small and sweet over the phone. Taehyung huffs, wanting it to be more complicated than it is.

“I don’t think he’s attractive!” He blurts, sounding defiant and silly.

“Oh c’mon now Tae, don’t flatter yourself. I think the entire student body at our school can agree he’s attractive.”

“Well, I just don’t see it. And second of all, even if he was, it’s just his whole demeanor that annoys the crap out of me. He doesn’t even notice my existence next to him.”

Jimin is quiet for a little while over the phone and then a small giggle escapes him. “You should make him notice you!” Jimin exclaims.

Taehyung is already rolling his eyes at Jimin’s antics, but still quieting over the phone to prepare for Jimin’s instructions. Teahyung would usually play into Jimin’s little games, smiling wide and finding it all very exhilarating, but with the thought of Jungkook on his mind, Taehyung is very serious about the issue at hand.

“You should try to act out like he does, be a class clown, don’t help him with partner assignments, act as laid back and fuckboy-ish as possible,” Jimin snickers. He speaks in almost a whisper, the idea so exciting to him he feels he must hush his voice.

Taehyung lets out a sharp laugh, “I do want to pass high school, Jimin.”

Jimin huffs, “you can pass and still act like you don’t have a stick up your ass all the time.”

Taehyung is mildly offended by the comment but lets it slide. “I guess it could be interesting…” Taehyung finds himself mumbling into the phone. He wants to take the words back but Jimin already latches on with a sheer giggle, followed by a trail of fast words spilling out of him.

“See?! Just do your homework in secret and act like an idiot when you’re around Jungkook, it’s perfect! Ugh! Tae! This is going to be so good! You’re going to beat Jungkook at his own game. You’re going to out fuckboy the fuckboy!”

Taehyung can practically picture how Jimin’s nose must be scrunching up while he laughs at the other end of the phone. He likes how excited Jimin gets about his mischievous plans, and that excitement carries over to Taehyung, lifting his mild expression to that of slightly pleased with himself.

Hopefully the plan will work and he won’t just end up looking like a complete try-hard at being a not-try-hard. Despite the little flutters of nervousness in the pit of his stomach, at least he’s actually looking forward to 6th period tomorrow.

The next day, Taehyung pauses before automatically going for his usual sense of style. He reconsiders, eyeing up his closet, and thinks of what a more laid back fuckboy might wear. Usually Taehyung opts for a chic look, loose fitting jackets over a graphic tee (also loose), and then a set of…loose pants. He really likes loose fitting clothes with a pair of converse or slides, then maybe a hat to top off the look. He gets complements all the time on how he dresses, but he doesn’t dress like the lacrosse star Jeon Jungkook. This is who he must channel from now own.

The way Jungkook dresses reminds Taehyung of middle school, athletic shorts and a Patagonia long-sleeve. Taehyung goes to his dresser and reaches farther into it than he has in probably years. His hands finally land on a plain long-sleeve with a random brand’s logo and then some tight fitting light wash skinny jeans. Taehyung feels he morphed into a different person in the span of a few minutes, completely disgusted by his mirror’s reflection.

When Jimin sees him for the first time Jimin practically screams. He does do a few little jumps/skips though (which might be worse than if he’d just screamed).

“Taehyung! I did not know you even owned stuff like that,” Jimin says, snickering, landing a punch to Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung wants to laugh but he just rolls his eyes, “I feel naked Jimin, this outfit is absurd.”

“But you do look like every other straight guy at this school, you’ll definitely have Jungkook fooled.”

“Ok so… how long are we going to keep this going?” Taehyung asks, a desperateness to his voice as he looks down at his body. It looks like his head is attached to a completely new person. His shoulders fill out the shirt almost too well, he must have bought the at least 5 years ago when he was a much smaller Taehyung.

“Y’know what our game-plan should be?” Jimin asks.

“I literally don’t, that’s why I asked.”

Jimin laughs, “Oh right. Ok, this is what should happen: You have a month to make Jungkook your friend, if you guys go to a party together, like as two friends going together, you’ll have won and you can stop dressing like that.”

Taehyung wants to strip from these tight fitting clothes the second he hears what Jimin says. “What?! That’s so extreme. Jungkook is so popular, even if we were class friends he won’t hangout with me outside of school.”

Jimin shrugs, “You know how I’m the teacher’s aid in your english class…”

Taehyung dramatically leans back, letting out a large groan, “Jimin, you are literally the worst and I don’t even know what you’re about to say.”

Jimin smiles, “Your english class is going on a field trip in one month and I’m in charge of randomly pairing people to stay in the same hotel room.”

Taehyung’s heart lurches from his chest, he wants to smack Jimin in the face, but he can’t help but stand there without movement and let Jimin continue to unravel his evil plan.

“If you don’t follow through with the plan… I can pair you two lovebirds up in the same room for 2 nights.”

Taehyung was expecting this kind of thing from Jimin, Jimin is always up to stuff like this. In 6th grade Jimin somehow managed to have a joint birthday party with his crush and this resulted in a wonderful photo collage of them cutting the cake together, dancing, everything mirroring a wedding photo book. Jimin has always been devious like that. Taehyung doesn’t know how, but Jimin always finds a way to get exactly what he wants, it’s probably the smile, his little crescent eyed smile.

“Ok Tae Tae… you know I’m your friend,” Jimin says sweetly, “I won’t actually hold you to any of this if you don’t want to… but it’s senior year! I need something to root for because it’d be so entertaining if you actually tried this out.”

“Jimin-” Taehyung tries to start.

“And once this is over and you win at Jungkook being our friend, maybe you can come up with a funny challenge for me and I’ll do it!”

“Jimin. Just listen to me for a second. I’ll do it. But if I win the challenge and get Jungkook to go with me to a party, you owe me like… a lot of money.”

Jimin smiles, knowing how disposable his income is, and juts his hand out to Taehyung. Taehyung with an annoyed sigh-that does have a pitch of endearment to it-meets Jimin’s and they shake on their plan.

Jungkook is doomed, (in a fun way).

Taehyung is, of course, on time for his 6th period class. He manages to hold a to-go box from lunch, a drink sweating with condensation, and his phone, somehow squished between two fingers. He wishes he could go into class and set all this stuff down with time to spare-as he would normally do-but instead he waits until the bell begins to ring and turns from his hidden corner and begins to walk to class. Jungkook is actually ahead of him and holds the door for Taehyung as they make it in before the bell fades out. Mr. Kim does a wave of his hand to acknowledge that they weren’t “actually” late as they find their seats.

Day 2 (of sitting next to Jungkook).

“So much traffic,” Taehyung mumbles, already trying out his new persona, voice languid and his posture at ease. Jungkook still hardly returns Taehyung’s attention.

“Tell me about it,” he grunts in response. At least Taehyung got a response, that’s a development.

Taehyung doesn’t try to continue the conversation though, he opens up his to-go box and begins to nibble at the remains. While Taehyung makes himself busy with his food, he uses his peripheral vision to eye up Jungkook as much as he can. Jungkook is dressed very similar to Taehyung, a white t-shirt on, paired with black shorts and some sneakers. The black and white color palette isn’t really Taehyung’s forte-as he usually goes for a beige or monochrome color scheme-but he admits that Jungkook pulls off the simple shades. Jungkook’s black hair goes well with his often black outfits, and the white t-shirt not only contrasts the large amount of black in his pallet, but also doesn’t drown out his skin tone, he’s tan from all his time on the field. The skin that is revealed, most of his arms, most of his legs, his neck, it’s all a warm honey color that would probably taste sweet under the tongue-

Taehyung tries not to get caught actually eyeing up Jungkook. And also not lost in his thoughts. They were definitely spiraling.

Jungkook turns to his friends and makes a comment about whatever assignment they’re in the midst of working on in a different class, Taehyung tilts a head and listens in on what subject they’re discussing.

“Has anyone done the Calc homework?” one of the girls in the group asks. Jungkook groans, finally a noise from him louder than his usual sighs and mumbles.

“Literally no one has, I have no idea who to get it from,” another girl answers.

“The group chat hasn’t been answering either, I think they’re sick of us asking,” one of the guys adds, with a laugh that negates all his previous words.

Taehyung has done the calc homework. But that isn’t part of his new persona. His new persona would ask for it from the group chat and if that didn’t work he’d simply not do it. So that becomes Taehyung’s advice.

“I heard it’s worth like no points,” Taehyung chimes in. Heads turn to look past Jungkook to where Taehyung sits. “I’m not gonna do it and I heard a lot of people aren’t.”

“Really?” The first girl asks, her face turning from concern to a proud smirk. “See guys, Taehyung isn’t stressing so I’m sure we don’t have to be either.”

Taehyung really doesn’t like how she said his name like that, it ruins his persona that he invented today. This new Taehyung is not the voice of reason when it comes to homework. New Taehyung didn’t hear about there even beinghomework until after it was due.

“Dude, I do the homework to get points so I don’t have to do good on every test, you don’t have to worry about that cause you do good on the tests,” Jungkook says. He turns his attention to Taehyung and Taehyung swears this might be the first time they’ve had a face to face conversation throughout the span of high school. But what Jungkook said isn’t a very strong starting point for Taehyung’s plan for achieving friendship. Jungkook’s words are sharp and Taehyung wishes he could just roll his eyes and ignore Jungkook as he would normally do. Taehyung tries to play it cool though, scoffing at Jungkook’s comment and slouching farther into his seat.

“She doesn’t actually look at what we write on the paper for homework, just scribble down some numbers and you’ll get full credit if you really care.”

Jungkook raises a brow and turns back to his friends with his shoulders raised.

“I mean, we’re only like 2 days into the school year, she might be an easy homework grader,” Jungkook says, his words instantly encouraging the rest of the group to agree.

One of Jungkook’s friends, Jung Hoseok, leans forward from his seat and outstretches his arm to Taehyung, “Dab me up bro, you’re a real one,” he says, fist bumping Taehyung who obliges with a mild smile. “Did you have a senior friend last year who told you how she grades?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung responds, dropping his arm from the fist bump and letting his arm slouch onto the back of Jungkook’s seat. Jungkook obviously feels the brush of Taehyung’s arm as it glides from his seat and back to Tae’s lap, and Jungkook’s body tenses with the sensation. Undetected from the rest of the group, Jungkook’s eyes dart over to look at Taehyung, but Taehyung tries his hardest not to emote, meeting Jungkook’s stare and then ignoring him to look behind him at his friends. Jungkook looks away from Taehyung when the brown haired boy disregards the eye contact.

“Bro, that’s hella chill, dab me up again, you’re for real the plug,” Hoseok says again, smiling widely and reaching behind Jungkook’s shoulder’s again to fist bump Taehyung. Taehyung, feeling even bolder after this exchange going so well, lets his arm slip back to Jungkook’s seat but leaves it there. The rest of Jungkook’s friends turn to each other to start their own conversations and Jungkook sits still with his eyes trained on his paper. Taehyung, with his free hand, starts picking at his leftover food again, and only lets his arm drop when Mr. Kim finally stands up to formally begin the class’ lesson.

When Taehyung’s arm casually slips off Jungkook’s chair to rest at Taehyung’s lap, Jungkook’s eyes follow. Taehyung is internally very focused on the lecture, outwardly projecting a dazed off appearance, one of someone completely spacing out. So he doesn’t see how Jungkook watches his arm, Taehyung’s tan skin only revealed in select places from under his long sleeve. What are exposed are his large hands, the veins are prominent and clench as he grazes his palm from his thigh to his knee. He does this back and forth, the repetition enticing Jungkook, who wishes he wasn’t so invested in how the boy’s hand moves. It grabs onto his knee, and from there slides up to his thigh, and then once again back to his knee. It has Jungkook imagining different things, what that large hand would feel like grazing up his skin-

Jungkook finally snaps out of it, trying to find an object to space out on, to drown out the sound of the lecture and forget all these new, strange and invasive thoughts.

But he can’t stop his mind from circling back to Kim Taehyung.

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watanabes-cum-dump · 4 years

Text

Meant for you chapter 7) Welcome to Reim

”Cheif Rametoto, I the warrior Hinahoho am grateful for your presence” Hinahoho said.

Hina, Sinbad, Amaris and a woman who’s name was apparently Rurumu, knelt in front of an old weathered man, Rametoto, cheif of Imcakk. Hina stood, ��We are here to ask for your permission, will you allow us, Hinahoho and Rurumu to get married? And leave the Imchakk clan?”

’Hina, choose your words more carefully’ Amaris thought. ‘You do not talk to a girl’s dad like that’

“Answer this question, warrior Hinahoho, what are you able to provide for my daughter? Wealth? Power? Status? My daughter has been cultured to be a warrior, she’s wanted nothing else her entire life. She has everything you can think of. So, I ask again; what can you provide to a person like her?”

“At the moment, I am unable to provide her with anything” Hina replied. ‘Bad answer’ Amaris though with a wince.

“Bastard! Who in their right mind would dare to insult the great cheif of Imchakk!? I’ll mangle you!”

The cheif yelled, jumping down and swinging his staff just above Hinahoho’s shoulder. Amaris was surprised he didn’t even flinch, ‘Hina, you now have my respect’ Amaris thought, trembling from the sudden commotion.

”I am unable to provide anything for her in my current state” Hina said calmly. “That being said, we can work together to make our dreams come true” he said, turning to face Sinbad.

“That is my master’s dream”

’Again, WHAT ABOUT ME!?’ Amaris mentally yelled.

Timeskip...

They were off, with an agreement with Imchakk. They would sell things from Imchakk, and make a name for themselves as great merchants. But, there was a downside to this...

”A dress!? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Amaris yelled as Rurumu held a white dress in front of her. Rurumu frowned slightly “You are a lady, you should dress and act like one”

The white haired girl ran behind Sinbad “Sin-kun, protect me!” Amaris yelped, hiding behind Sinbad.

“I don’t see a problem with this. You would look good in that. Plus, she’s right. We’re not street kids anymore”

Sinbad was dressed in fine clothes, having changed out of the ones the Imchakk gave him. He looked good, more clean, but Amaris wasn’t digging her outfit options. Sinbad sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win if she decided to argue, he pushed her further into the room and shut the door behind him “Have fun!”

Amaris trembled as Rurumu cast her shadow over her. “Ummm...”

Timeskip...

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ja’far, and I’m what you would call a merchant. We’d be honoured if you could stock our products in your lovely store- What the hell am I saying!” Ja’far fumed. Amaris sighed beside him, “Don’t worry. Sometimes I wonder why I’m here too” she muttered. She was dressed in a simple but beautiful white dress held together by a rope, her hair was free of it’s ponytail and hanging by her shoulders, a gold circlet set off her white hair “I’ve had enough of this you old hag!” The boy yelled, slamming his fists in the table.

Rurumu’s eye twitched “Old hag?”

Amaris and Sinbad jumped as Rurumu karate chopped the poor kid’s face.

“How many times to I need to tell you; when addressing a mature lady, you address them and ‘miss’ or ‘madam’. We are now a part of Sinbad’s merchant crew, we have to act the part. The way we carry ourselves is the key to building strong and true trade relationships” the Imchakk women scolded.

A few minutes later....

”HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IF YOU CAN’T EVEN READ!? YOU MUST ALSO LEARN CULTURE, GEOGRAPHY, AND OF COURSE MATHEMATICS!” Rurumu scolded. ‘I should have paid attention to my teacher’ Amaris thought, regretting not listening paying attention to her classes in the other world. But there was more hell to come.

“Ja’far! Correct you’re posture!”

”Stay standing!”

Soon enough, the three kids were on the ground exhausted. They saw Hina, Vittel, and Maho standing over them. “Hey how are you guys? Hanging in there?” Hina teased. “C’mon! You’ve got this!” Vittel encouraged. Amaris groaned while Ja’far grumbled about his headache.

“Lunch time everyone!” Rurumu called.

“I should have stayed in Parthevia...” Amaris groaned as Sin pulled her up. He patted her back with an apologetic smile. “Remember your manners now!” Rurumu said. Amaris saw the boys cringing, but she was used to this crap and just dug in. ‘Man this is good’ Amaris thought, taking a bite of the well cooked meat.

An hour later, they were back to studying. It was just grammar and speech, Amaris was pretty good at it. Having spent most of her life in a world where everyone had the right to an education, she was a few leagues above the boys. “Hmm, Amaris dear, you sound like you know these things rather well” Rurumu said, checking her work.

“Well, it’s not that hard really” she replied.

“Indeed, for a noble, at least” Rurumu said, eying her almost suspiciously.

“Yeah!” Sinbad piped up “I’ve always wondered why you’ve always been so smart, being able to write and read like that. But maybe you were a noble before we found you”

”Found her?” Rurumu repeated “I thought you two grew up in the slums together” Amaris sweat dropped nervously but Sin came to her rescue.

“When we were eleven, we found Amaris passed out a little ways past the village. She had amnesia so we took her in” Sin explained.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re starting to remember” Rurumu said, patting her head with her large hand. “And since you’re one step ahead of all my lessons, I won’t need to teach you anymore”

“WHAT!?” Sinbad and Ja’far yelled. “Thank you!” Amaris exclaimed before heading off to tell Hina so he could assign her something to do. “No fair” Ja’far whined.

Many nights passed and Amaris got to know everyone else better. She learned that Vittel was incredibly funny and that Maho was amazingly good at handling delicate things. And that Ja’far and her got sunburnt easily. Yep. (Haha I can’t relate since I have dark skip ;P)

It was one faithful day when she saw the docks of Reim up ahead, Sinbad had climbed up onto the mast for a better view, she would have joined him but she couldn’t do shit in a dress.

“All right, let’s get to business! There’s no time to waste so let’s go!”

“Come one come all! Get you’re exclusive imported goods from Imchakk” Sinbad and Ja’far advertised while Amaris just hung back. A crowd of people gathered around to look at the goods. Most of the women over Sinbad, and most young men over Amaris. “Eh” Amaris sweat dropped nervously at her new admirers.

”What a beautiful girl”

“Such fair skin” (I’ve been watching way too much Saiki k...)

Over the crowd, Amaris could see Vittel with an amused look. “Help me!” She whisper yelled. Vittel shook his head and waved at her as he dealt with some customers. But, her saviours were the guards. “Break it up, break it up!” startled, the citizens cleared out.

“You don’t have permission to set up shop here young man” one of the guards said.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir” Sinbad replied “We’ll begin the appropriate procedure right away. Where do I go?”

“You mean you don’t know anything about trading in Reim?” The first one said, the other sighed. “All universal transactions must go through the Reim union, which controls everything. Only the companies approved by the union are permitted to sell” the other one explained.

“If there aren’t anymore questions then you can leave. That goes for all of you, move it!” The guard said. The people muttered as they walked away. A man in a blue cloak walked up and asked for the proprietor, Sinbad Of course answered him while Amaris helped clean up. “Yo Amaris! Box up everything we have! We have a deal!” Vittel yelled.

“What!?”

A sac of silver coins clinked onto the ground “Please accept this. I hope to do business with you again” the mysterious man said, and with that, he boarded his carriage and left. But that night, they were in for a surprise.

“What’s going on here? These are our products”

“And look at the price! They’re five-no-times higher!”

“We were duped!”

“That jerk took advantage of us” Hina growled.

“He must make his money by buying and reselling goods” Sinbad said. “That being said, he plays it safe and targets non union merchants like us”

”I see” Rurumu said sadly when they met up and told her what happened.

“How much did we loose Sinbad?” Hina asked. (I’m too lazy to write Hinahoho ok?)

“I don’t know” was the purple head’s reply. Amaris sighed, “So much for our effort”

“Bottom line is we need to join the union in order to conduct business in Reim. There’s no point in arguing about the resale” Ja’far and Vittel looked down. “I agree. I underestimated the trading business” Vittel said. “We all did” Rurumu sighed “But this is the reality of our business”

“When it comes to trade, we’re total amateurs” Hina said.

“What are you saying!? Isn’t that the fun of being in this business!?” Everyone looked at Sinbad, shocked.

“But that guy made us look like idiots!” Ja’far protested.

“Look at the big picture! That’s why it’s fun”

“Huh?”

“I respect merchants. Is you ask me I think they’re the shrewdest people to ever live! The world is run by money, and merchants move money. They have a huge roll in this world. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I said that merchants move the world! Just think of it guys! We get to compete with people of that caliber! It’s nothing short of mind blowing!”

Amaris felt the Rukh buzz in excitement, she didn’t know how but, it was a feeling. “I cannot believe you’re talking me into this again” Hina scoffed. “Our leader has spoken, and it is our duty to follow him!”

“Sinbad, are you sure about this?” Rurumu, Hina, Ja’far, Vittel, Maho, and Amaris were in their boat. “Yeah. Head back to Imchakk as fast as you can and come back with new goods. Hopefully when you return I’ve settled things with the union”

“Got it. We’re counting on you Sin” and they sailed off, leaving Sinbad on the docs. When they were about fifty yards away from the docs, Vittel grasped Amaris’ shoulders “Ok, spill it. Do you have a crush on Sinbad?”

“WH-WHAT!?”

#magi #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi the kingdom of magic #magi adventures of sinbad #magi aos #aos #sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbad magi #sinbad x reader #sinbad x oc

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houseki-no-suffering · 5 years

Text

so, since the new chap’s gonna be a hard one i thought about sharing some fluff?

this is from my 1960s fic and it was meant to be phos and shinsha’s first encounter as kids, but then i changed things around and edited out the whole thing. it’s not very good or refined, it’s just cute, but we need nice things so i hope it’s still okay?

“Diaaaa!” the child almost jumped on Diamond, hugging their legs— the highest part of Dia that they could reach. Dia almost lost their balance for the surprise. They caressed Phos’ head, returning the hug.

“Hello, Phos. How are you?”

“I’m super excited! Do you know this is my first day? Do you?”

“I do, I do. Now you’re all grown up, aren’t you?”

“I am! Look!” the child made a small pirouette to show Dia their outfit. They were wearing a dark blue school vest as well. It had once been Diamond’s, and maybe Rutile’s before that. The lace of the collar was a little worn out at the hems, but it had Phos’ name embroidered on it, Red Beryl’s work, and Phos was radiant: the last come in their dorms was finally starting school.

“You look like a very proper student,” Euclase commented. They smiled and offered Phos a small paper bag, “You forgot your lunch.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, why don’t you go and say hello to your new classmates? I’m sure you will make a lot of friends.”

The child looked sheepish at the thought and clung to Euclase’s shirt, “but I’ve already got you and Dia and Sensei, do I really have to?”

“Why, don’t you want more friends your age? There are so many nice people you can meet,” Euc pointed out, but Phos only clung to them with more force, shaking their head no. Euclase chuckled and exchanged a glance with Diamond. Dia crouched next to little Phos and offered them their hand.

“Then I’ll let you meet my friends, they’re very nice. Will you come with Dia, sweetie?”

Albeit with some reluctance, Phos nodded and, accepting Diamond’s hand, they followed them to the entrance door, where a little group of students were waiting for the bell to ring. Euclase waved both of them goodbye, smiling reassuringly to Phos. Usually, they would walk back to their shop after accompanying a kid to school, but today they would wait until the bell rung as well, just like everyone else.

Familiar faces crowded the modest school yard and each time they spotted one of the kids from the dorms, Phos would point them to Dia and ask about Bort or Zircon or the Amethyst twins. They felt a little more confident with each of Dia’s answers to the point that their usual bubbly self started coming through again. When the bell rang and Sensei welcomed new and old students inside for the day’s classes, Phos’ eyes were once more sparkling with excitement.

-----

In just a few months, Phosphophyllite had learned the names and faces of every student, teacher, and professor of the school. It wasn’t a huge institute, but the feat was still amazing for such a small child and, conscious of it, Phos would often recite every name in front of Euclase as if it were a jingle, purposely avoiding all the poems and multiplication tables they could not memorize.

And then one day the child spotted an unknown face— in Dia’s classroom nonetheless— and made it their personal duty to get to the bottom of this mystery.

The mysterious student would often miss class, Phos noticed, and they were usually the first to get to class and the last to get out. Sometimes, Phos would scan every face in the front yard until long after the bell had rung— which would earn them a frown from Sensei or the teachers. Phos would be completely sure that the student would not be there that day, and then they would spot their red hair in the back of Dia’s classroom during recess, like they had been there the whole time.

They didn’t hang out with Dia and the other students, they never talked with anyone except Sensei. They were always alone, and Phos thought about walking in and just talk to them a lot of times. It would be so easy. But something was always holding them back, something about the stranger’s desire for loneliness maybe and how Phos thought they should respect it.

The school year was flying away fast and, late in May, Phosphophyllite decided that they had to talk with the stranger. What if they switched schools or did not pass their exams? Phos would never have a chance to know their name.

The last bell of the day had rung, the halls were empty and unusually silent and Phos decided that today was the day. They put on their best determined face, hands holding tight to the single handle of their satchel. They hoped the mysterious student had not gone home yet.

Phos walked in Dia’s classroom quickly, putting a foot after the other, before self-doubt could make them change their mind. Being in the class of seniors was already making them feel smaller.

But there the stranger was, sitting on a desk in the last row. Their feet were dangling back and forth and they were scribbling something on a small notepad. Their face was completely hidden by their red hair.

If the student noticed Phos’ presence, Phos did not know, because the child’s eyes were glued to the tip of their shoes. With each step they took, Phos’ courage thinned until it disappeared altogether when they stopped right in front of the stranger’s desk.

A few seconds passed by, slow as hours, and Phos’ words were stuck in the back of their throat. What had they been thinking? This student probably did not want to talk with them or with anyone else. Dia had not even mentioned them once, they were probably not an orphan from the dorms and they were older than Phos. What would they care about a tiny six year old like Phos?

Just when Phos thought that this had been one of their stupidest ideas so far, the stranger did something unthinkable.

“Well?”

They spoke.

“What do you want?”

And then spoke again.

Bewilderment overcame fear and, this time, Phos raised their head and looked at them.

They were wearing a dark blue vest similar to Phos’ own. It was worn out and their collar too had a name embroidered on it, but it was cursive and Phos could not read it very well. It was also half-covered by the stranger’s hair. A wild, fiery mane that hid their freckles and their eyes to anyone who wasn’t brave enough to come closer and take a look.

The eyes beneath those red locks were looking at Phos. They were almond-shaped and sharp, of the prettiest reddish brown Phos had ever seen. And they were not hostile, just curious.

The student kept looking at Phosphophyllite, waiting for them to talk, as if giving them space. Phos clutched their satchel with more force. They found their voice again.

“M-my name is Phosphophyllite, from 2-A!” and then, more hesitant, “D-do you want to be my friend?”

#houseki no kuni #fic tag #1960s au #phosphophyllite #cinnabar #just a cute little thing #not very good #just cute #this doesnt fit the 1960s canon anymore thats part of the reason i edited it out #but yeh #hope this still works to counterbalance chap 75 a tiny little bit #stay strong everyone

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artemisrisen · 7 years

Text

year old drabble; yxd as children

I was abruptly reminded of this drabble that I wrote a year ago about yashiro and doumeki as kindergartners together and never shared, so in the midst of all this chapter 28 oncoming melancholy, I’ll share it now. :)

Yashiro curled his chubby fist around the stick. “Okay,” he said. “Now you are Pochi-kun.” Doumeki nodded and reached for the stick. Yashiro quickly moved it away. “No, no, no,” he said. “I’m going to throw it and then you’ll run and get it!” “What kind of dog am I?” Doumeki asked. He was already thinking about the wet snout he would have, the paws with clacking nails, the wagging tail. Would his ears be floppy or silky or triangles? Would his tail be long or stubby? He needed to know. “You’re a Golden,” Yashiro informed him. “What’s a Golden?” “It’s a big dog with long legs, and it’s got gold fur and it says, ‘Wan-wan’!” “I see,” Doumeki said, focusing. In his imagination, a Golden resembled his neighbor’s Shiba, except that it was incredibly shiny: like a new coin, or Yashiro’s hair. Also, it was wearing his school uniform. “Say it. Say ‘Wan-wan’.” “Wan-wan,” Doumeki intoned. Yashiro huffed. “No, you sound so bored. Dogs are excited. Here, I’ll do it.” Yashiro barked twice very loudly, and Doumeki thought it was an excellent bark. “That was really good, Yashiro-san.” Yashiro’s eyes briefly dropped to the ground. Doumeki noticed he did that whenever someone praised him; despite his outgoing personality, he was very easily flustered. “OK, now you try,” the little blond insisted. “I’m not as good of a dog as you are,” Doumeki pressed. He wanted to see Yashiro blush, just a little. He felt badly, but he liked to see Yashiro flush so much that he sometimes deliberately said very praiseful things to provoke a reaction. He didn’t really know why. Tonight, he would ask his mother about it. But Yashiro didn’t take the bait. “I’m not a dog,” he said. “I’m a cat. So you have to learn to bark.”

“You’re a cat?” Now this was throwing a real wrench into Doumeki’s plans for play. He thought they would be two dogs running in the yard together, or maybe Yashiro would be his owner. A cat? Why a cat? “I’m a cat,” Yashiro said. “I have a long tail and I’m gray. My name is Mochi.” “Mochi-san,” Doumeki said. Pochi and Mochi. He would be all right with that. That showed the world they still belonged together, even if Yashiro would be sitting on a fence and Doumeki would be running around the yard. “Do we live in the same house?” Yashiro dramatically rolled his eyes. “Yes, Chikara-kun, we live in the same house.” “Are we best friends?” “Stop asking dumb questions!” Yashiro said. “Of course we’re best friends.” “Do you stay outside or inside? What is your favorite food? Do you follow me on walks?” “Pochi-kun,” Yashiro Mochi-san said. “Go get the stick.” And here he chucked the aforementioned stick across the playground, as far as his tiny arm could muster. It went clattering over to the concrete, a little ways away from the grassy area where they currently stood. Doumeki fell to his hands and readied himself to charge as fast as possible on all-fours, but before he could do so, the outside teacher came jogging over. “Yashiro-kun, please do not throw sticks,” Reika-san gently scolded. “We don’t want to hurt your classmates. Please keep the sticks on the ground where they have fallen.” “Yes, sensei,” Yashiro said easily. Despite being frequently reprimanded, it was an open secret that Yashiro was adored by all the teachers. He used this to his advantage now and turned a sweet expression on Reika-san, who visibly melted and patted his head with motherly fondness. “Yes, you’re a good child,” she said. “And Chikara-kun, please stand up properly.” She reached out and offered a hand-up, transforming him from a rambunctious dog to a solemn, two-legged kindergartener. Doumeki knew some of his classmates didn’t like how well-favored Yashiro was. Once, Ryuuzaki poured sand into Yashiro’s milk when they were seated together at lunch-- but Yashiro noticed it of course, and “accidentally” spilled it on Ryuuzaki in return. They were on clean-up duty together afterwards, and Yashiro ended up (again) “accidentally” whacking Ryuuzaki across the face with a rag. Their relationship was a bit turbulent.

Speaking of Ryuuzaki -- like magic, he suddenly appeared behind Reika-san and glared at them from around her skirt. “Ryuu-kun wants to play in the grass, too, yes?” Reika-san said, bringing him around to the front. “We must all get along with our classmates and show we can play harmoniously.” Please show me you can be mature, was her unspoken request. Doumeki felt his stomach churn. Ryuuzaki was one of the bigger kids in class (Doumeki was the biggest) and always bothering Yashiro; but more than that, he seemed to be desperate for Yashiro’s attention. He didn’t want Ryuuzaki coming over to interrupt their time together, but it seems like it couldn’t be helped. Reika-san patted Doumeki’s head as well, and then walked back to her position on the concrete. She was far too trusting, as far as Doumeki was concerned. “What are you two weirdos doing?” Ryuuzaki asked, still frowning. Even just talking normally he was so loud, as loud as Nanahara in the next-door classroom (Nanahara could be heard even now in the distance, shrieking that he was Godzilla). “We’re pla--” Doumeki started, but Yashiro cut in. “We’re playing Knights and Princes,” he said, as if that was the game all along. “That sounds really stupid,” Ryuuzaki scoffed. Then, “How do you play?” “There is a Knight, who is very strong,” said Yashiro. “And he fights monsters and helps people who are in trouble. He’s on an adventure to save the Prince.” Doumeki was always deeply impressed by Yashiro’s ability to conjure up games and stories out of nothing. This one sounded exciting, even more-so than when they played Policeman and Yakuza. “And there is a Prince,” Yashiro continued, “who is trapped in a castle. He’s very lonely and scared, and can’t get out on his own.” He pointed to Doumeki. “He’s the Knight--” the finger turned to his own nose, “--and I’m the Prince.” Doumeki felt his chest fill with lightness. He was the Knight. He was going to rescue Yashiro. He could already see the tower shrouded in mist and covered in ropey vines, with Yashiro’s silhouette in the high tower window. “That’s not fair!” Ryuuzaki said. “That’s only two people.” “You said it was stupid,” Yashiro said, too innocently. “It’s even stupider that you can’t think of three different parts!” Ryuuzaki yelled. “Dumbass Yashiro!” “Then come closer to me,” Yashiro said. Ryuuzaki and Doumeki both stilled. “Why?” the former asked, suspiciously. “I’ll tell you when you come over,” Yashiro said calmly. “If you do something like put grass in my shorts, I’ll punch you,” Ryuuzaki threatened, but he walked towards the other. “Now hold onto me,” he said. Ryuuzaki, with far more hesitation than he ever showed before, grabbed Yashiro’s arms. “No, more like -- my stomach,” Yashiro said, and moved the other boy’s arms to position around his waist. Doumeki was rooted in his spot. This game was rapidly becoming his least favorite game of all time. Shouldn’t the Knight hold onto the Prince? What was Ryuuzaki supposed to be doing?

“What are we even doing?” Ryuuzaki asked. Yashiro, in response, wrapped his own arms around Ryuuzaki and suddenly tightened. “You’re the Dragon who has kidnapped me,” Yashiro said. Then-- “DOUMEKI, HELP ME! SAVE ME FROM THE DRAGON!” Doumeki charged at the group at once, and Ryuuzaki screamed.

#saezuru fanfiction #saezuru au #I love imagining this boys growing up together so here they are in their very first stages of tender affection and devotion #<3 #saezuru

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imascreamerbabymakemeamute · 7 years

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I don’t run, but I will run to you

Supernatural has become a big part of my life, and thought I have been writing fanfiction for years, I never had the guts to post it. But after much coaxing from @annie-marie94 I have decided to post this.

A/N: DeanxReader, no smut but it’s way too fluffy for it’s own good.

In this AU teachers are dating teachers! It is never okay for students to date teachers!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

I don’t run, but I will run to you

“I want you guys to run two laps for being late to class today,” Dean yells at a couple of the linebackers as they hustled out to practice in their pads.

“Yes, Coach Winchester,” they grumbled.

“But, Coach, you know I don’t run,” you say as you walk by the open door where he is standing on your way by. Your pace quickens minutely as you realize how loud you said that; quickly skirting the lot and zipping through the grass to your little house across the street.

The next day comes without fail, and with it came Tuesday Technology. Where the kids used what they had learned the last week to either create something of their own, or catch up on work they haven’t finished yet that was due, is due, or extra credit. They can be terrors, but they enjoy the work time.

It was Tuesdays when Hall Duty was just more than you handle most days, but on the rare occasion that Coach Winchester shares the duty with you, it was much better. And today, after a particular hellish discussion on how, though one may think, it is rude to depict the President as a Nazi, a monkey, and anything containing expletives, whatever was currently being worshipped by the kids must have been smiling down upon you as Coach rounded the corner to share Hall Duty with you since Gabe, the science teacher, was out on sick leave after getting too into a re-enactment in his class and caused his own concussion. To which many kids filmed and put on youtube. You have spent hours finding each version of it and finding the kid to have them take it down.

But, back to the handsome man walking toward you. After all your students filed out of the computer lab, you stood next to the doorway as the hordes of students went by, one or two slipping out of the throng, and into your room.

“So if you don’t run, what exercise do you do?” a deep voice, rough from years of yelling at rowdy students. Your jump slightly and students around you who notice snicker a bit, especially the ones in the doorway.

“Huh?” You ask, wondering what he was talking about.

“Yesterday,” he reminds you, “you said you don’t run, so what exercise do you do?”

“Oh, that,” you sigh. “I walk the neighbor’s dog for him, he can’t get out and walk Daisy like his wife did before she passed, so I walk the dog, and he lets me pile my trash on his side of the driveway so I don’t have to pay for it to be picked up,” you smile sheepishly.

“You live in town? I didn’t know that.”

“I live right there,” you point out the windows in the back of your classroom, “in the little brown house. I walk to school everyday.” Just then the bell rings and you look up at the clock just inside your room and start calming the class down so you can remind them what is due tomorrow.

At lunch you looked out the window at your house across the street, “Damn, I’ve gotta ask Dad if I can borrow his pusher, my yard looks atrocious.”

“I can get it if you want,” the gruff voice says from behind you.

“Coach! I didn’t see you come in! You scared me!” you almost screech.

“Sorry Ms. L/N, I just meant that I could get it for you, I have a mower back at my place it will take about ten minutes to do that.”

“No, it takes at least an hour, Coach Winchester, and I can do it. I just have been putting it off,” you say quickly.

“I’ll be over tonight, you’ll see. Ten minutes, time me.” He says as he pats your shoulder, “and, call me Dean, only the kids call me Coach.”

After school, you hurry home. You can’t put your finger on why, but you have a feeling that Dean will be by with his mower soon. You tidy the house up and get your laptop out so you can grade the student’s work, being a computer teacher has its perks. You turn on some classic rock to drown out the noise of the cars on the road and get some dinner started. The sound of a lawn mower pulls you away from your spaghetti preparations and you look out the kitchen window to see Dean drive by on his riding lawn mower, big bulky noise cancelling headphones on his ears as he rumbles past.

You glance at the clock on the oven, remembering his challenge; 5:09.

You meander to the back porch with a tray of lemonade and glasses as Dean drives by with the blades off after finishing rounding out your last tree in the backyard. He pulls up to the bottom of the stairs, he climbs them, two at a time and you see that the heat of the August sun has prompted the usually crisp dressed man to don a pair of jean shorts and toss his white tee over the back of the driver seat. Sweat glistens off his honey colored skin all perfectly filled out and toned.

“Lemonade?” You ask, trying not to let your voice waver, “What do I owe you for such a favor?”

“Turn up that music?” He offers from under his lashes as he sips on the glass of lemonade after sinking into a second hand patio chair you got off the internet.

You gave him a puzzling look before reaching hand into the house past the screen door and you turned the little knob on the old stereo speakers you had hooked up to your computer. The classic rock came louder, Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore kicked in over the chorus and his thousand watt smile crawled onto his face.

“No seriously, you did a wonderful job, what do I owe you? How much do you want for doing this?” you asked again, trying to clarify.

“I heard you the first time, Sugar. I told you, turn it up and let me come back out. I’ll come out as long as you need me to.”

“Really?” you asked shocked. “You would do that for me?” He nodded.

“One thing though,” he said suddenly.

“Anything, name it!”

“Come have dinner at my place on Saturday. I would say Friday, but, ya’know, the game.” he rambles a bit sheepishly.

“I- Of- Yes,” you start and stop a few times, “yes, I would like that very much.” Your cheeks tint a bit pink and the timer in the house goes off. You set your drink down and rush inside to take your garlic bread out of the oven. You come right back outside at the sound of the mower turning on, and being drove around to the front of the house. You hurry to the front of the house, and watch out the front window as Coach Winchester drives off on his little riding lawn mower down the road a couple blocks before turning. Turning back to your kitchen, you settle for having dinner with your gradebook instead of Dean.

Friday at school was crazy, home football games usually were. You were helping the school by selling tickets, and you got a little bonus but you also got in for free. After a tough first half, the guys came in for a swift second half and came out with a big win. The stands rush the field, you quickly and quietly slip out of the masses after congratulating a couple of the team who were in your classes. As you were heading through the parking lot to home you hear a couple of the other teachers talking about heading out to drinks tonight at the bar in town. Your hurry faster across the street, not a big drinker yourself you tend to stay away from those teachers, always afraid that they will get in trouble, and by extension, you. You slip inside quietly, and lay your keys down on the counter as you take your jacket to the closet in the hall as a knock resounds through the living room. You grab the door handle and open the door to see Dean standing there.

“Hey, I didn’t get to talk to you tonight, with the game and all,” Dean kind of rambles.

You open the screen door on the front door and step out onto the front cement pad with him. “It’s okay, is there something you need?”

“Do you want to come drinking with us? We won, and the kids can’t go drink so we might as well!”

“Oh, no,” you say quickly, “I don’t drink, I’m more fun if I stay home and out of your way. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got papers to check anyway.” You smile and wave him off. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Dean smiles wide, “I almost forgot! Can I come in? I’ll write my address down, come on down at six, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you step out of the way and hold the door for him. He drags his feet across your front mat and gingerly steps onto your carpet. You pad across the plush carpet and head for the kitchen, grabbing a pad of paper and gesturing for him to follow as he stands on the mat, frozen. He followed quickly with big strides, grabbing the pen and quickly scribbling his address down and then looked up at you. You two share a smile and his eyes rove over your face, looking for any amount of trepidation as he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek and then as he moves to peck your other cheek.

At five fourty you were just pulling your skirt on and tucking in the ends of your tank top to the waistband. The light blue tank and aztec pink and blue print of the tea length skirt matched nicely, and with a thin white jacket and small pink quartz pendant necklace your look was set. A touch of makeup and you were out the door by five fifty. Just a short walk, about three blocks, to Dean’s took you about five minutes. When you knocked on the door Dean came rushing a minute later, with a bottle of water in one hand.

“Hey,” he said as he looked you up and down. “Damn, I feel underdressed now.” He said quickly gesturing to his own dark jeans and grey tee shirt with a red and black flannel with the sleeves rolled up, you smile a bit. He chuckles and steps aside and you take a step inside.

Dinner was quaint, a perfectly grilled steak with mashed potatoes and a bottle of straight root beer each.

“I remember that you said that you don’t drink, or run but we can get to that later,” he said in a teasing tone as he handed you your bottle as you sat on his back patio. After sitting and sharing horror stories of teaching and killing a six pack of straight root beer, Dean came back with hard root beer, and you turned him down tonight. At eight his phone rang for the third time in a row and he answered it finally, leaving his hard soda on the picnic table as he walked away a bit to talk to his brother about something. You reached over as it seemed to be the end of the conversation and downed the last swallow of his soda and as he came back you stood to leave. Copying his actions the night before you cupped his face with your hands and pecked his cheek.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, but I think it’s time I leave,” you say quickly, blushing a bit as you pull back.

“I had a great time too, we should do this again,” he says and he surges forward to peck your lips shortly and with that your blush increases.

“Next Saturday, my house, six o’clock, it’s a date,” you say quickly as you skirt his house and hurry away before you do something rash.

That next week at school is tough, knowing that the date is coming up and the fact that you are still sharing Hall Duty since Gabe is still out with his minor concussion doesn’t help. Lunch is better because there is something to do beside talking, but there is more time then as well. His shameless flirting is getting him somewhere though, he is making it harder for you to separate school from your personal life. Some of the quicker students are picking up on his hints, and flirting, sometimes faster than you are.

Saturday rolls around and you have cleaned the house, made a casserole, and bought a box of that hard root beer at the store. You set the small breakfast table as a dinner table for two. A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hi Dean,” you say as you open the door, unconsciously smoothing out the khaki capri leg to wipe off the sweat as you hold the door open.

“Hey you, I brought you these,” he holds out a couple stems of lilies presumably from his flower bed along the back of his yard as that color was just blooming when you were there last week. You grab them from him and smell them a bit and smile.

“They are beautiful, come in, I’ll pull out a vase.” You hold the door for him and gesture for him to sit anywhere he likes while you get the vase and wait on the casserole. He sits on the couch and watches as you pull a vase out of the small china cupboard and fill it with water and set it on the counter. You return with a couple of the hard root beer bottles and hand him one. His face shows that he didn’t believe that you would have these.

“Hey, I never said I couldn’t, I just said I don’t usually,” you twisted the cap off and tossed it to the coffee table, he copies you and takes a swig. As you take your phone out and start the music playing softly. The soft bluesy tunes of The Steve Miller Band echo around the small living area as Dean’s smile widens.

“You know Steve Miller?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course, I grew up on the classics!” you exclaim. He starts singing along and the two of you finish out the song as the timer on the counter beeps. You hop up and turn off the timer, opening the oven door to check your casserole. Dean wanders over and sits down at the small breakfast table with his and your hard sodas. You bring the pan over to the table and carefully dish out the food.

After a quaint dinner, and almost the whole six pack of hard sodas down, and bubbling within you two, you see the lust burning in his eyes. But as a true gentleman he retreats back to his house in order to keep his cool. Every Saturday for the rest of the year you and Dean met up, dinner, movies, grading, lesson planning, anything that could mean you could share the space, your place, his place, a public place.

Around Christmas you share your first steamy kiss, and by May you were officially a couple and the students were loving it. The Principal however was a little less than thrilled, emails had been provided that stated the conduct requirements for teachers, with certain areas highlighted.

Over the summer, steamy nights were getting hotter as Dean’s drawer at your place turned into everything in your place after his trailer got flooded in the summer storms.

At the first pep rally a couple years after that, the school was a-buzz. With the workload your learning team had piled on you you weren’t looking forward to Dean had been spending more time with the team, and while you were happy for the distraction from the empty house, the work was supposed to be distributed between your team. You had planned on camping out in your room, avoiding the rally until one of the football players piped in.

“Ms. L/N? Aren’t you comin’? Coach Winchester is adamant that everyone come this rally. Says he’s gotta show us something he’s been working on,” Terrell told you. He was a good kid, star running back in fact. Quick as a speeding bullet, but some days you wondered how many hits he’s taken and not gotten checked out.

“Well, you just fill me in, Mr. Edlund’s new plan for our standardized tests is going to take the rest of the night, even if I don’t go to the rally,” you said, pointing to the class schedule you and your peers had to figure out in order to get all the students through your three classrooms of computers. You made a shooing motion with your hand and Terrell sighed.

“I didn’t want to do this Miss.” He sighed as he walked to the door and whistled down the hall. Then he came back in the classroom as his co-hort, Jordan, came in with an exercise band. Jordan walked up slowly as Terrell boxed you in behind your desk. He and Jordan wrapped the band around your middle and around the back of your desk chair before each grabbing an arm and running down the hall pulling you along. At first you fought back, but soon enough it was over and you were wheeled into the gym where the entire school was sitting in the bleachers, Principal Edlund was talking to the school about how the football team was doing good in practice and how he had watched a couple scrimmages. He passed the mic off to Coach Winchester and he called his captains out to stand with him. He gave them all an honorable mention and talked about the team as a whole.

“Now I would like to call out our favorite Cheerleader,” Dean called over the mic as Terrell and Jordan left the line up to free you from your chair and lead you over like gentlemen. They looped your arms in their elbows and escorted you to the front where the quarterback had pulled a chair from a stunt to happen later up to sit beside Coach. The other captains backed up and the real cheerleaders filed out with signs that you couldn’t see. Terrell and Jordan sat you down in the chair before joining the team behind you. You tried to turn but Dean clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“Ah-ah-ah! No peeking!” Dean chastised you into the mic, the student body giggled a bit but quieted down quickly.

“Now, as many of you know, Miss L/N and I have been dating for some time now,” he grinned down at you and you gave a little blush. “Now normally she is not one for public displays of affection, and Principal Edlund has stressed the need for me to not do something stupid. So instead I do things like this to embarrass her. If you were here last year you remember how I made her sing Shrek Karaoke?” The upperclassmen cheer a bit at how you had absolutely rocked out to Smash-Mouth last year beating out the then quarterback, Taylor. “Well, this year, we are not going to embarrass her, we are going to cherish her.”

Behind you the chant of the cheerleaders “one-two-three” startled you, but the whole student body yelled, “We love you Miss L/N!”

This is followed by the upperclassmen football boys all telling awesome and tear jerking stories of how you helped them, either at practice, or driving them home, or letting them sit in your classroom and finish homework if they didn’t have a computer at home. You wiped at tears as each student shared stories from years ago, even a few teachers joined in. After each story the call of “One-two-three” followed by “We love you Miss L/N” was heard.

Suddenly, the stories stopped, and the shuffling of mics was heard. The captains came up and picked up your chair, bouncing you around a bit before turning you to face the back wall of the gym and setting you down. There knelt Dean.

“Y/F/N L/N, you have been the Friday Night Lights to my football field for years,” Dean spoke, his voice not wavering, but his eyes shining. “Will you be my Friday Night Lights, my Head Cheerleader, and my Wife? Will you marry me?”

Your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth, your tears are now running rivers down your makeup; the sudden floating mic next to you took only a glance as you pulled it away from the person with your right hand, you held it up to your face as you answered.

“I don’t run,” the students giggled, “but I will run to you. Yes, Coach Dean Winchester; I will be your lights, your cheerleader, and your wife.”

You both stood up as he slid the beautiful ring onto your finger and some poor student ran up to gather the mics.

“One-two-three!”

“We love you Mr and Mrs Winchester!” called the student body as you embraced and kissed.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #reader insert #Screamerwritings #Supernaturalschool

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cattusvault · 7 years

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This is just a reminder that teachers are supremely underappreciated.

I’m just about to finish my student teaching, and I’ve already realized just how much more we have to do to make sure that our kids get the best education that they can possibly receive than what students see in a standard day of class.

Teachers get to school before students arrive, picking up the classroom, setting up classroom furniture for special group activities, copying work pages or homework, tutoring students in math, science, whatever they need help with.

The day carries through and teachers spend most of 6 hours on their feet, teaching students, monitoring progress, helping strugglers, keeping students on track. During the school day they wear so many hats. They are educators, tutors, yard duty, family, counselors, mediators, hall monitors, fan clubs, and so many more. Sometimes they skip lunch to make sure students make up tests that they were absent for. They skip lunch to make copies, to make phone calls home, to write and read emails, to check in on students, to set up for projects and a lot more.

And even after the day is done, teachers stay at school. They tutor more students, catch up with some parents, share lesson ideas with grade level teams, meet for IEPs and 504s and SSTs, have meetings with principals or other administration. After all of that, they go on to spend hours prepping for the following day of school. We grade tests and assignments, put scores in gradebooks, make copies, create lesson plans from scratch, search for resources, make review games, cut paper for art projects, unclog and refill glue bottles, redo seating arrangements, read essays, and way more than I could even list.

And students..The day still doesn’t end there. Teachers take home work too. Most teachers spend hours of their own nights still working to make sure that their kids have the best education that they can give. Most teachers aren’t paid enough. A lot of us know that going into this field, but that doesn’t stop us. We’re determined, passionate, and willing, and we’re dedicated to helping you accomplish your potential.

Long post short, appreciate your teachers. Thank your teachers. They do so much more than you could even imagine. And most of it is for you.

#education #teaching #teachers #school #educhums #thank you teachers #teacher appreciation

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kara-no-ai · 7 years

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KOR Bad Boys part 3

" --Suoh Mikoto." Kusanagi's classmate sitting in the seat in front of him had said when looked out the window, his hands that he had been using to wolf down his bento halting to a stop. "That's Suoh Mikoto, isn't it? Huh, lookin' at him from here he doesn't seem all that dangerous."

Kusanagi followed his classmate's gaze and looked outside the window as he munched on his homemade sandwich. Though the courtyard was visible from the third year students' classroom, he did not see the corresponding person.

"Where?"

"The bench underneath the tree over there. Ah, you can't see it from the angle you're at. He must've finished eating or something, he's just laying around."

From where Kusanagi was sitting, the tree must be blocking his view. However it was not something worth going to the trouble of standing up to see, so Kusanagi returned his gaze to his lunch. It was a baguette filled with leftover food from the Bar Homra; the leftovers themselves were tasty so it was actually quite good. The filling of the sandwich he had today was lettuce and ham, as well as a ratatouille of vegetables stewed in tomato sauce. As it was a dish that could also be served cold, it worked well in a sandwich and the saltiness of the ham provided a good seasoning.

"Suoh Mikoto, huh...."

He had just talked about that very person with Nagahama last night. Suoh Mikoto had been a famous boy in Shizume City from his middle school years. This spring (1), he had entered the school Kusanagi was going to, Suga High School, as a first year student.

Since he had come to Tokyo, no sooner after Kusanagi had started to familiarize himself with the town had he started to hear rumors about Suoh.

When he had turned the tables on some of the hoodlums lurking around Shizumene City that had picked a fight with him, his opponents were left in critical condition, having lost consciousness for a period of time. Fortunately, as they all survived and did not have any lasting injuries. Therefore, although it was borderline excessive for self-defense, it was categorized as justifiable self-defense and did not become a criminal matter. Since a group of delinquents who boasted of their strength had been defeated and nearly killed by a kid of 12 or 13 with his bare hands, rumors started flying throughout the city. And the same thing repeated again and again.

A group that had went to seek retaliation had instead been beaten up themselves, then a group that had heard the rumors and had grown a bit curious and faced him. In fighting with such groups, it was only natural for grudges and hostility towards Suoh to develop amongst the teams of delinquents. As such, the opportunities for Suoh to be violent increased.

Kusanagi had never once heard of Suoh losing a fight. Whether or not it was because he had learned from that experience to hold back somewhat, Kusanagi had never heard of an incident where his opponents had nearly died beyond the first one. Nonetheless, to those who would get into a fight with him, it appeared that fighting with Suoh felt like no less than "risking your life" and he had suddenly started to be called a "wild beast."

It meant that if you were to try to start something, you should be prepared for the consequences. Like how if you mess with a lion, you will be chased and get your windpipe torn open. Or if you throw a stone at a bear, you will get your face chewed up.

Unlike Earless Mitsuha who had come up in the conversation last night, with Suoh it seemed that he rarely initiated any violent acts himself. In that way too he resembled a true wild animal.

"I wonder why he's in a half-assed college prep school like ours. If he'd went to a school where there were more delinquents he's have been able to become the king of it."

"'Why? 'Cause he's not stupid. Who'd make a point of lowerin' the rank of school they go ta just so they can be king o’ the rock?"

After Kusanagi said such in a shocked tone, his classmate looked at him with suspicion.

"I don't wanna hear that from someone who could've gone to a better school if he wanted to."

"The time it takes to commute ta school's a serious matter, y'know. Life's short. I don't wanna spend mine on the time it takes goin' back an' forth."

Kusanagi's classmate just gave a response of 'what are you saying?' with a laugh at the look of triumph that had risen on Kusanagi's face.

"Plus, I don't think he's the type that'd have any interest in bein' a king."

"Do you know Suoh Mikoto personally, Kusanagi?"

"Nah, I only know the rumors."

Though Kusanagi did not know to what extent the rumors he has heard about Suoh Mikoto are true, 'the type of people who spread these sort of rumors' and what sort of inclinations they possessed was something he could picture.

Since he was famous, if Suoh hung out with people in the night version of Shizume City or had a place that he frequents, Kusanagi would have heard about it. In other words, Suoh was not the type of animal to form a pack.

When the afternoon classes ended, students began to dash out of the school. Kusanagi joined the crowd, walking leisurely amidst the characteristically listless hustle and bustle of the students.

How should he spend the rest of his day? Should he help out at the bar, or maybe set off to roam around the city for fun....? If Mizuomi seemed to have nothing to do he could have Mizuomi show him how to make the Bar Homra's specialty curry from him again. Though it was something as simple as curry, for some reason whenever Kusanagi would make no matter what he did his curry would not have the same taste. It had been bugging him.

He was headed to the place where students kept their bicycles while thinking of this when he caught sight of a female classmate of his by the pathway. She was standing there holding a broom with a troubled aura about her.

"Heya, Nattsun. Yer turn for cleaning duty? (3)"

The girl who was generally referred to by her class as Nattsun stemming from her name 'Natsuki' came over to Kusanagi as soon as she caught sight of him.

"It's Suoh Mikoto!"

While gripping the broom tightly in her hands, Natsuki looked up at Kusanagi with an expression that was the embodiment of seriousness itself. With no prior explanation given, was quite an abrupt declaration to make.

"Huh?"

Yet again that name from last night. Upon Kusanagi gave her a questioning look, Natsuki brought her hand up to her mouth as though she were about to say something in secret. Kusanagi leaned downwards and brought his ear close to her face.

"You don't know about him? Suoh Mikoto, the first year. The one from the crazy rumors."

"I've heard the rumors. But what's this about him?"

"He's over there." Natsuki said in the same tone of voice that one would say 'they're going to come out' when telling a ghost story.

"Over there?"

"I'm telling you! Suoh Mikoto! In the courtyard over there! And I'm on cleaning duty for the courtyard this week!"

Kusanagi shrugged his shoulders. During lunch break, his classmate who had been eating a bento had also said that Suoh Mikoto was in the courtyard. But two periods had passed since then and it was now after school. When he turned to go towards the courtyard since it had caught his interest, Natsuki pushed the broom into Kusanagi's hands.

"Kusanagi-kun, will you trade cleaning shifts with me? Wow, you're the best!"

"Hey, I never said I'd... tch, 's fine. Ya owe me one."

Taking the broom with a wry smile, Kusanagi pretended to lightly whack her on the head as she laughed happily. It seemed as though she had truly been troubled. He could see the sight of relief on her slightly embarrassed face.

"Ah but be careful. I don't think he would do anything to provoke a fight with a third year out of the blue. But if anything happens, just give me a signal and I'll go get a teacher to..."

"Nah, I ain't worried at all."

It seemed as though Natsuki thought that if someone were to go near Mikoto, they would get bitten. She was truly treating him as though he were a wild beast.

He left her with a 'you'll get embarrassed if you go 'round buyin' too much into rumors~' and headed off to the courtyard.

The Suga High School which Kusanagi went to was not old enough to have a history to it, but it was also not new enough that you could call it a newly established school. Its location was a fairly good distance from where he lived and it had a fairly good rate of students who went on to university; it was a school that on every front was just 'fairly good'.

The afternoon sunlight shone down on the well-maintained courtyard and peaked through the branches of the cherry blossom tree which by now had turned completely green.

There the red-haired boy was. On a bench in the small courtyard which connected the pathways between the east building and west building, lying down with his arms crossed. Perhaps it was because the warm summer air combined with the leaves overhead which soaked in the sun's rays and provided shade invite the feeling of sleepiness, but there he was, truly fast asleep.

Kusanagi was reminded of a stray cat that often came into the yard of his family's house in Kyoto. It was a rough-looking, impudent cat. Despite the fact it was not fond of people, it chose his house as a spot for afternoon naps and when given food would eat it without thought and then suddenly disappear.

The guy sleeping peacefully on the school's bench had an air about him that was more along the lines of an impudent stray cat than a wild beast.

While tapping the handle of the broom against his own shoulder, Kusanagi looked down at Suoh Mikoto from all the rumors. He could just ignore him and go about finishing up cleaning, but his interest in Mikoto had grown. He lightly swung the broom he held in his hand through the air with a whoosh and pointed the tip of the handle towards Mikoto. He lightly tapped him on the side several times.

Kusanagi waited for a response from Mikoto, but despite the poking, he continued to sleep. Even his breathing pattern remained undisturbed.

Kusanagi thought that how with Mikoto seemed right now was far from an undefeated wild beast; on the contrary he looked like even a girl could take him down.

Kusanagi stopped holding back and put more force into poking Mikoto with the handle of the broom.

" 'Ey, first year. Yer gonna be in my way if ya sleep there."

There was no response.

Kusanagi's face twitched. This guy...

In exasperation and a bit of irritation- as well as due to his growing curiosity, he firmly gripped the handle of the broom and put his strength into prodding Mikoto's stomach with it. It was not to the extent that it would be called an attack, but it was a slightly stronger force than you would use when only trying to wake someone up.

A soft, short but dull sound of a snap echoed throughout the courtyard. The broom went flying from Kusanagi's hands, hit the ground with a thump and rolled away.

The hand that held the broom froze. For a brief moment, Kusanagi was unable to ascertain what had happened. Because Mikoto still looked as though he were sleeping. However, when looked closer he saw that Mikoto's hand was raised. It seemed as though he had used that hand to brush off the broom handle that Kusanagi had tried to poke him with.

Mikoto wrinkled his eyebrows in displeasure and slowly opened his eyes.

"So ya were awake after all?" said Kusanagi as though he was a bit displeased by it and leaned down to pick up the broom.

Suoh, still sprawled out on the bench, opened his eyes a crack and looked vacantly up at the air. He lifted his left hand which he had used to brush off the broom and opened his mouth with a grunt.

Kusanagi had been wary of what Suoh would say but the next thing to come out of Suoh mouth was a big yawn. After an unabashedly big yawn, Suoh slowly sat up. He appeared as though he was still half asleep, seeming not quite have a grasp on the situation. As though he might not have even realized that he had protected himself from a broom.

After debating on how to address Mikoto, Kusanagi settled with a "....Mornin'?" to which Suoh gave a slow reply of 'yeah'.

Is this guy alright in the head? Kusanagi thought as he watched the still half-asleep Suoh.

"School's already out. Ya can't go about sleepin' 'ere, so if ya wanna sleep then head home."

"Already out....." Suoh repeated Kusanagi's words it seemed as though he was finally alert, or at least the the dazed look in his gaze had gone and been replaced with a sour expression.

"When did ya fall asleep?"

"........Noon."

It seemed as though he had truly slept there from lunch onwards. He had not noticed the chime that rang many times at the start and end of each class, nor woken up when the hustle and bustle that had been going on around him had stopped. There was, of course, no one brave enough to wake up the famous Suoh Mikoto, so he had ended up taking a far longer nap than one should when at school.

"Ya unintentionally skipped out on fifth n' sixth period? Yer somethin' alright. What classes did ya have?"

"Math and........ English."

When he mentioned English, Suoh's expression grew even more sour. Wondering if the English teacher was someone who would fuss over skipping the class, Kusanagi though of who the English teacher would be.

"Ah, lemme guess, yer English teacher's Honami-sensei? If I recall, she's the teacher fer first year class A. 'N also the homeroom teacher."

Kushina Hoemi. The young female teacher that had come to Suga High School the previous year. She was a beauty with a soft demeanor who was very popular among the students. The girl students looked up to her as a big sister and among the boy students there were those who had seriously fallen in love with her. Kusanagi had taken her English class the previous year. Just among the boys in his class, there had been many who had taken an interest in learning the language after hearing her charming voice speak in it when reading English sentences. He was sure Suoh was in first year class A.

Though it was impossible not to feel sorry for the gentle female teacher hearing that she was the homeroom teacher of the well-known Suoh Mikoto, by seeing Suoh's reaction it somehow seemed as though Suoh was the one who had a hard time dealing with Honami.

Suoh frowned and glanced away.

"Honami-sensei might be worryin' about ya since ya didn't show up fer her English class or homeroom, y'know?"

"Shut up." Suoh said in a bored tone. He then stood up.

"I'm a third year, y'know. It wouldn't hurt ya to speak ta yer Senpai in a more polite manner." Though Kusanagi had only complained about Suoh's rude manner in a joking tone, Suoh left without giving the slightest reply. Kusanagi called out after him.

"Wild beast Mikoto."

Mikoto paused and looked back at Kusanagi with a flat expression that said he did not think anything of being called such. He did not seem to particularly dislike it, nor did he seem to care for it in the slightest. The face that Suoh made was just one that was aware that name was something people called him.

Kusanagi gave a small smile.

"That's some name ya got 'here. A girl in my class was scared of it too. It was her turn to clean the courtyard, but she said she couldn't cause the famous Suoh Mikoto was sleepin' there."

Suoh did not give any sort of response. He simply waited until Kusanagi was done speaking and then truly left.

"See ya, Mikoto-kun." Kusanagi called out to Suoh as he walked away. As he had expected, Suoh did not react.

-♛-

Notes:

(1) The Japanese school system is set up that the first semester begins in Spring (more specifically April).

(2) The word used here is ‘Oyama no Taishou’ which is the Japanese equivalent of the children’s game referred to as ‘King of the Rock’ in Mulan (which I chose to render it as for the sake of invoking a familiar image). A kid climbs to a high point and defends it against those who come after saying he’s the only ‘oyama no taichou’ or ‘boss of the mountain’. It’s also used to describe people who are childishly insistent on being in charge or the best, which is what Kusanagi uses it as here.

(3) In Japanese middle and high school, students are in charge of keeping the building clean, from the classroom to the toilets to the courtyard outside. They take turns for who cleans what.

(4) Kouhai are socially obligated to speak in polite language to their senpai, as their senpai are older than them and outrank them in school year. To fail do this, as we see Mikoto do, is extremely rude.

#k: kingdom of red #kingdom of red #k project #translation #kusanagi izumo #suoh mikoto #kushina honami #my translation

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