Foster Girl ★ ( Dipper x Reader )

☾" the letter. "☽

[] y/n's pov []

I quickly pulled out my Polaroid and took a photo of it, shoving it in my purse. I than scrubbed off the lipstick and my attention turned to the stalls. Quickly, I scooped through each one of the stalls. Each one of them was empty, thankfully. I did my makeup, brushed off my clothing and left. I had photography, a new class I was taking.

"Evidence; noun; the available body of facts or information indicating whether a belief or proposition is true or valid. Great photographers have evidence of a time that happened to them. Whether it was a sight, moment, or person, they caught it. Newspapers and the media tend to master this art of recording all around us. Your first assignment is to simply collect photos of things that happen to you. Minimum ten, maximum twenty. You also must write a paper describing each."

My glance caught a new student, speaking with a teacher. I've seen her around, at a small French coffee shop. She was tall, tan, and had a type of look in her eye that said she had dreams. She wore red shorts with golden henna all over it, and a golden blouse to match. On her neck she has a chocker on, with a daisy charm onto it. It looks wonderful on her. Her hair was long and brown, with sunglasses atop of her head.

Her green eyes met mine, as the teacher directed her to sit next to me. She slowly walked to me, gently setting herself on a seat by me. "Hey..." I said quietly.

"Hello." She replied flatly in response as she flipped open her laptop, beginning to type. She glanced at me, as I awkwardly typed in the silence.

"My name is Marina." She said out of the blue. The name sounded familiar.

"Y/n." I responded to her.

"Pretty name." She smiled at me, her eyes trailing me up and down.

"You're new here, where are you from?"

There was a slight pause in her speech; as if she were thinking about something. Or at least making a lie. "NYC." She said then; shaking from her thoughts.

"Ah, same. Transferred from an Orphanage into Foster care. "

"Wait...Y/n? Y/n L/n?"

"How do you know my name...?" I softly growled.

"Woah woah chill, it's Marina from the Orphanage." She smiled.

I remembered.

[] flashback ; age 7 ; third person point of view. []

The cold air lingered inside the shut wooden door of the dark orphanage. Y/n, slowly shuffled down the hallway locked arms with her dear friend Naomi. A girl by the name of Marina, however, stopped them from walking. "H-hey Naomi." Marina waved blushing at the auburn-haired girl. "Hello Marina!" Naomi grinned. Y/n's arm held Naomi tighter, seeing Marina as a threat.

At that age, Y/n had been very overprotective of her friends. Well; friend. She only had Naomi, and she wouldn't let her go. "Oh sorry Marina we have to go to Naomi and I's room." Y/n cut in smiling as she pulled away from Marina. Naomi glanced back, seeing Marina walk off. "What was that for Y/n?" Naomi asked puzzled.

"She's trying to take you from me!" Cried Y/n.

"Don't worry, no one can pull us apart." Naomi smiled.