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skzsauce01 · 5 months

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What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars.

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor.

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.”

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says.

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?”

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art.

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it.

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card.

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy.

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis.

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it?

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on.

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so.

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right.

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate.

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work.

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are.

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace.

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying.

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call.

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to.

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

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galina · 5 months

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your lifestyle seems so classy and elegant and sophisticated (at least your aesthetic online, i'm not making any assumptions about the parts of your life you don't share). if you're comfortable answering, did you grow up in that kind of environment or was it something you more so chose for yourself as an adult? do you have any advice for someone who didn't grow up feeling "cultured" and finds all the coffee and restaurants and art a bit intimidating but wants to be a part of that world?

I wrote something about this a little while ago, and it's a really interesting topic. it definitely started as an adult for me. I think I probably don't have the answer but here's a ramble.

for me liking 'nice things' started out kind of like a little joke with myself and then it turned into a whole lifestyle. my parents didn't have much money, we didn't go to fancy restaurants, we didn't drink tea or eat little sandwiches or really go out to eat ever to be honest. but they were young immigrant punks who loved heavy music and books and writing and they encouraged me to lean into my innate weirdness. I think what they didn't have in finance they made up for with imagination. it was tumultuous and unsteady, but it was multi-cultural, which is a huge privilege.

specifically on restaurants, I think a lot of that is J – he is even more open-minded than I am and comes from even fewer experiences like that (his words). he's unimpressed by fancy, but he's also unafraid of niceness. he hates when people take themselves too seriously, and helps me to do stuff I would never do because he see it like a kind of prank. like, we'll go somewhere a bit posh, and I'll be freaking out and sweating and looking to bolt and J will just be like, we're hoodwinking them. we're playing them like a piano. it's cosplay. it's a magic trick. it's hilarious and it puts me totally at ease. I remember the first time he took me to a nice restaurant, I was so overwhelmed – but I loved it, the food was amazing and we had a wonderful time because he was like, don't stress, you're allowed to enjoy it.

so I suppose my advice is to just enjoy that you are different and marvel at the idea that your great great great grandma (or even your mum) would think "this is bananas". like, you're you, and you're looking at the art, or eating the food, and that's great, doesn't matter how you got there. something about how james murphy said that pretentiousness is a great way to get cultured because you start out pretending to read something to be cool and then you actually do read it and so on and so on. or how dan fox said pretentiousness can help us overcome the fear of the new and the different in order to create cultural diversity. something like that.

#this is the most ramble thing I've ever written and answers nothing

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onboardsorasora · 2 months

Text

Just a silly thing I thought of. Sweet and fluffy thoughts of Maxiel parents at the Renaissance Fair.

“Hanna banana do you want another– no don't eat that!” Daniel scooped up the toddler in his arms, tickling under her arms to get her to giggle. Her poofy princess dress floofed over his tattooed arms, making him look like he was holding a giggling ice cream cone.

Daniel smiled and kissed her ruddy, chubby cheeks, walking them back to their group that were holding spots in the little grandstands. They'd been at the Renaissance Fair all afternoon, seeing all the different acts and artisans. Now they were waiting on the final jousting show of the day to begin.

It was their last excursion of the afternoon, Max had eagerly wanted to see the thrilling conclusion after the Tournament of Champions turned into a fake bloodbath filled with intrigue and subplots of deception and political drama.

Hanna squealed a happy sound and reached out of the circle of Daniel's arms towards Max who grinned over at them. Daniel found himself struck dumb as always at how beautiful Max looked when he and Hanna looked at each other like they both hung the moon and stars.

Max took Hanna in his arms and the baby burrowed her face into Max's bare neck. Daniel reached over to flick an errant loc of hair from Max's eyes. His baby blues looked bright and especially vibrant today under his dark blue eyeshadow.

“Did you enjoy looking at the horses?” Max asked, using the billowing sleeve of his costume to wipe at a smudge of dirt on their daughter’s cheek.

“She didn't even like want to look. Started toddling towards the bar that one.” Daniel chuckled and Max exhaled a laugh, clutching Hanna close and kissing at her beaming cheeks.

“Oh no lil bean, you're not old enough to try mead yet.” Lewis leaned over and tickled Hanna’s side, grinning when she giggled into Max's skin.

Daniel packed away the half eaten snacks in the bag in their stroller and then slipped his now free arm around Max's tiny corseted waist. His red and blue wench’s costume was beautiful in how it showed off his neck, shoulders and chest.

“Daniel, could you– my knot came undone again.” Max asked sheepishly and Daniel pecked his cheek before kneeling happily at his booted feet. He made quick work of bunching Max's long skirts and knotting them at thigh height so that his darling wouldn't overheat in the humidity.

“Every time you knot it you go higher and higher. I think you are trying to expose me to all these people, maybe.” Max teased.

“Babe with those legs, everyone will be getting a treat.” Daniel smirked at Max's blush.

“God you both are gross.” Lando complained walking up to them, his hands laden with drink. He handed a copper tankard to a now standing Daniel, and Lewis.

“One day you'll grow up and find someone you can stand in the daylight young one.” Daniel teased, accepting a silver tankard as well and popping a metal straw in the sparkling liquid. He brought it to Max's pink lips.

Lewis snorted and sipped his own drink before getting everyone's attention. “We have to remember to take that group pic.”

“I wish we thought about it before Hanna spat up on Daniel's costume.” Max commented mournfully, looking over at the large three that adorned Daniel's chest instead of the vest and shirt that matched them as a pair.

“Eh, no sweat it Maxy. I don't think our little princess liked it as much as you did.” Daniel laughed. “Next year we can be a pirate family.”

“And if you're lucky, Hanna won't want to be a dinosaur.” Lando chuckled which caused them all to laugh.

#literally just wanted something sweet and fluffy #maxiel #max/daniel #my ficlet

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foxymoxynoona · 3 months

Note

honestly i would totally read a drabble with only ezra and lily in it. no jungkook no isabella. just the two babies doing baby things

Story: Amended, July in the new house timeframe Characters: Ezra & Lily, Isabella ft. Length: 3599 CW: none, General Audience appropriate Read more Amended shorts here (or check out my masterlist, making an Amended-specific masterpost soon)

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“Aww biscuits!”

Ezra froze on the stairs and listened to Lily’s muttered curse. When he’d walked through the kitchen only a moment ago, she was getting a banana for herself. She had declined his help opening it which was dumb because she was going to mush it up trying to get it open and then refuse to eat it. Mom said she was going through a phase. Ezra didn’t think he’d gone through a dumb phase like that and didn’t like that Mom had laughed when he said that but then she’d said all his phases were cute so… he guessed that was ok. Everyone was a little kid once upon a time, even him.

He heard the clink of a metal spoon against a ceramic bowl and decided he’d better check it out. Lily wasn’t supposed to be using a ceramic bowl. No one was. They were Gigi’s and Mom kept them high in the cabinets and one time JK had used one for cereal and Mom hadn’t been happy. He was confused which meant Ezra wasn’t the only one who thought it didn’t make sense to have bowls you weren’t actually allowed to eat out of. Mom said no one was allowed to use them anymore and put them up high but that was definitely what the clink sounded like unless Lily was doing something else weird.

He tossed his books to the top of the stairs and trudged back down, shaking his head about little sisters. He had offered to open the banana for her and then he wanted to just go read in his room because Parker had loaned him a couple Dr. Slump manga and JK had seen it and suggested Mom should see them to make sure they were ok for Ezra to read which obviously meant he needed to read it immediately before Mom said no. That was yesterday and JK hadn’t said anything to Mom yet so maybe he’d forget. If they were bad Ezra wouldn’t read them but he was just curious what JK thought might not be ok for him to read.

He stepped into the kitchen and forgot all about Dr. Slump.

Lily stood in a growing pool of milk. The whole gallon lay sideways on the counter, glug-glugging onto the floor while she stood there and just watched it with big eyes. One of the forbidden cereal bowls was indeed next to the sink, the cabinet she had climbed and pulled it from still open. The silverware drawer was open. Two boxes of cereal were knocked off the top of the fridge and one lay sideways in the pool of milk.

“I walked away one minute ago!” Ezra cried.

“Well I got hungry.”

“You said you wanted a banana.”

“It got mushy,” she said, glancing at three smushed bananas dangling out of the trashcan.

“Mom said to get her if you wanted cereal,” Ezra reminded. As if cued, they heard the lawnmower start in the backyard. JK was away for the weekend and Mom was mowing the grass and Ezra and Lily were supposed to behave and play quietly and come get me if you need anything but Ezra was old enough to know that really meant don’t need anything unless someone is bleeding. Mom had definitely said some words worse than “aw biscuits” trying to figure out how to work the riding lawnmower.

“I asked her but she couldn’t hear me.”

“Did you ask her while she’s mowing the lawn?”

“Yeah I was asking her.”

“Did you get close to ask her?”

“No are you crazy? She’s mowing the lawn! She’d chop me to smithereens!”

“Did you even wave your hand like this?” Ezra asked, demonstrating how his sister might have gotten Mom’s attention from the safety of the deck.

Lily shrugged and looked at the mess before asking, “Can you get me a bowl of cereal?”

“You might as well just dump the cereal on the floor and eat it like– no! Are you crazy? Don’t really do that!” he groaned as she promptly dropped to all fours and leaned forward, slowly, tongue out like she was going to do it. Her eyes were on him like she was waiting for him to laugh, but he knew better. She’d do it. Lily could be crazy to get a laugh. That’s why she kept saying aw biscuits because she’d said it and JK had laughed and now it was her favorite thing to say, even though Ezra explained she didn’t invent that, she got it from Bluey.

Sure enough, she licked the floor-milk. But when he didn’t laugh, she decided not to bother.

“OK I’ll get the vacuum while you get the cereal,” Lily said.

“No I’ll get the vacuum, you’re scared of it.”

“Ok I’ll eat my cereal,” Lily said, turning to lift the box out of the milk like she’d planned this anyway. Ezra glared at the back of her head but didn't’ say anything because he was older and knew more things anyway. “The box is wet. I don’t want to eat this kind. Can you get that one?”

“I can’t reach that. How did you get these?”

“I threw Gidget’s toy until it knocked down,” Lily explained, grabbing it to do so again. It had also been in the milk and sent droplets flying everywhere, then lodged on top of the fridge. “Aw biscuits.”

“Get a kid bowl,” Ezra told her. He grimaced as he waded through the milk that instantly soaked his socks. “Ewwwww it’s so gross.”

“I kind of like it,” Lily admitted. Her socks and leggings were wet as she swished side to side. “Look I’m an ice skater!”

“You’re getting it everywhere!”

“Catch me!” She leapt in his direction but slipped exactly like he’d expected and landed on her knee. He watched her lip tremble and her eyes water.

“You’re ok. You’re ok, you didn’t break anything,” he quickly assured her, crouching down. “Do you want me to get Mom? Did you break something? I don’t think you did.”

“Carry me.”

“You’re five, you’re too big for me to carry.”

“Daddy can carry me.”

“Yeah he’s a big grown up. I’m only nine and I’ll just slip in the milk and we’ll both get hurt. Stop ice skating and just get a bowl, ok?”

She sang a song as she got the bowl and Ezra wondered how to get the breakable one back into the cabinet. He wasn’t as good at climbing as she was and didn’t want to risk toppling off. Besides, he needed to get the milk cleaned up first. Part of him thought maybe he should go get Mom because this was a really big mess, but the other part of him really wanted to prove that she could trust him to keep an eye on Lily while she was mowing the lawn. It didn’t matter if JK wasn’t here, Ezra could take care of things too.

First thing was to get Lily out of here before she made it even worse. He sloshed through the milk to pick up the gallon only to realize it was broken, so she must have dropped it, not just dumped it over.

“How did you even get this out of the fridge? It was almost full.”

“I’m really strong,” she told him.

“If you’re so strong why did you drop it?”

“I was pouring it and the milk went out way too fast! It wasn’t slow at all! It was too heavy. It was even more heavy than I am strong.”

Ezra let out a sigh. Kids. Obviously if something was heavy to pick up it was going to be heavy to pour!

There was just enough milk left in the broken jug to pour into her bowl. He poured the cereal on top because recently JK had seen him make cereal and told him you were supposed to put the cereal in first so Ezra was going to keep doing the opposite because JK couldn’t tell him what to do. Then he gave Lily the spoon and made her take her socks and pants off and sit at the table to eat. He threw her clothes and his socks into the washing machine that was already full of clothes anyway, then dragged the vacuum from the closet.

At this point he paused. Was a vacuum the right way to do it? Mom usually mopped up spills with towels, but it would take a lot of towels. Like a crazy number of towels, maybe every towel they owned.

“How many towels do you think we have?” he asked Lily.

“Oh I don’t know. Six? Or maybe nineteen.”

He decided to pull all the kitchen towels out of the drawer and drape them across the pool first to soak up as much as he could. They got really wet really fast and then were really gross but he hauled them over to the washing machine, back and forth. Probably he was never going to drink milk again after this.

It still looked like too much liquid for the vacuum, so he unfurled the roll of paper towels next. At this point Lily came over and chucked her bowl in the sink.

“Now you have to help me clean this up,” he told her.

“Why? I didn’t do it.”

“I’m going to murder you–”

Lily gasped and shouted, “I’m telling Mom you said that!”

“Ok sorry sorry I didn’t mean it. I’m trying not to say it.”

“Mom said you have to pay one dollar of your allowance.”

“I’m not actually going to murder you, it’s just a saying because– because you did make this mess so you have to clean it up.”

“But you can’t murder me about it!”

“I’m not going to murder you. Fine. Sorry. I’ll give you a quarter if you don’t tell Mom,” Ezra bargained because Mom had sat him down and had a talk with him about saying I’m going to murder you or I’m going to kill you. She didn’t get it’s just a thing his friends said at school and sometimes Dad said it too and probably Mom had said it before too, it didn’t mean you were actually going to kill someone! But she told him all this stuff about how sometimes people do bad things in the world and it’s not funny to be casual and make jokes or be light about it and JK is a cop and all that and also he had sad things happen in Korea and Ezra wasn’t allowed to say that ever again. He didn’t really understand how it was all connected but fine, if Mom said it was such a big deal he would try not to say it – but it was really hard to stop saying something when your tongue just made the words come out! “Ok,” Lily beamed, happy about the quarter. She just liked them because they were the biggest coin, she didn’t even understand money. “But don’t forget or I’ll tell Mom you said it twice.”

“That would be lying.”

“No it isn’t… I’m not a liar.”

“Just help me clean up the milk,” Ezra sighed. “Take that towel and wipe up where you left all those footprints.”

“Woah this is a lot of towels.”

“Wait. Do you hear the lawn mower?”

Lily shared a look with him. They ran to the sliding door, tracking milky footprints around the table, and looked with terror around the backyard. It wasn’t that Ezra thought Mom would kill them for spilling the milk or anything, but he just thought it was better if she didn’t know.

“She’s there!” Lily cheered, pointing to Mom in a far corner of the yard. She was off the lawnmover, dragging some branches out of the way. She didn’t look happy. Gidget was penned up but barking like crazy.

“If Gidget keeps barking she might bring her inside, we have to hurry,” Ezra decided, feeling the rush of urgency course through him.

“AGHHHHH” Lily shrieked in a panic and did a somersault, then ran towards the kitchen to mop furiously at the floor, flinging milk, tearing the paper towels, doing more harm than good.

“Just hold the trash open,” Ezra huffed. It was a good thing she was cute because she wasn’t much help for anything ever. Together they tossed the sopping towels into the trash can, then Lily ran shrieking to crouch in the stairwell as Ezra ran the vacuum cleaner around the kitchen –the little one that Mom was strong enough to carry up and down the stairs, but he thought it was really hard to drag around still and he wasn’t sure it did much good. It seemed to just blow the milk around.

He shoved it back in the closet and saw Lily climbing on the counter again, putting the bowl back into the cabinet.

“You aren’t supposed to use those,” he reminded her.

“Why not?”

“Mom said so. I don’t know. Moms are weird about things sometimes.”

“So are Dads,” Lily nodded sagely.

“Do you mean JK? He’s not your dad.” He felt bad about saying it as soon as the words were out because sometimes Lily got upset if you pointed out she didn’t have a dad, or she was just confused and thought his dad was her dad. He hadn’t meant it to be mean, but JK was their stepdad, it wasn’t the same thing as having a dad.

“I didn’t say he was,” Lily rolled her eyes and clambered down from the counter. “But he’s still a dad.”

“He’s not anyone’s dad.”

“He’s Gidget’s dad! And Crabby’s!”

“I guess you can say that if you want to…”

“Can I go play now? This is boring.”

“I know it’s boring but I want to be reading my book and you made the mess! Next time just ask for help,” he scolded.

“But I don’t need help, I can do it by myself.”

“Then why did you spill all the milk?”

“It wasn’t my fault, it was the milk’s fault!”

“For being too heavy?”

“I think we’re done here,” Lily announced and turned to pad off to the living room.

“Hey put some pants on, your underwear is hanging out!” he reminded her.

“I like it that way. Oh yeah, oh yeah, doot doot doot,” she sang, doing a little butt-shaking dance.

Ezra laughed at her silly style because she was really bad at dancing but it was cute. He saw a little more milk on the counter but he was out of all towels, so he took his shirt off and wiped it down, then tossed that into the washing machine and closed it. He put the busted gallon of milk in the recycling and wrote on the shopping list Mom kept on the fridge: Milk. He couldn’t reach to get the cereal boxes back up without dragging over a chair and just as he was going to do it he heard Mom’s footsteps on the stairs up to the deck and had the primitive instinct to flee.

Apparently Lily did too because she ran screaming through the kitchen and up the stairs, “I NEED PANTS!”

Gidget sprinted in as soon as Mom opened the door and Ezra remembered too late that the last bananas were still on the counter where they weren’t supposed to leave them because Gidget could reach, but he was already halfway up the stairs and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Everything ok in here?” Mom called through the house.

He grabbed his books at the top of the stairs and shouted back, “Yes!” before diving into his bedroom.

“Boo!” Lily shouted, throwing his covers off of herself where she’d been hiding in his bed, waiting for him.

Ezra pretended to be scared, then threw a pillow at her and reminded, “Go get some pants on!”

“I don’t have any pants! I’ll wear some of yours and you can wear some of mine.”

“I don’t want to wear your pants,” he pointed out.

“It’s a new rule I just made up.”

“What’s the rule?” he asked, flopping down beside her after he had a new shirt on. His feet and arms still felt gross and sticky.

“You give me a quarter and–”

“KIDS! WHY AM I STICKING TO THE FLOOR?” Mom shouted.

“I think Mom wants to talk to you,” he told Lily, whose eyes went big.

“What if she feeds me to the birds?” Lily asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think birds eat little girls.”

“But what if she puts peanut butter and sunflower seeds on me. They like that a lot.”

“I don’t think Mom will waste that much peanut butter.”

“KIDS?”

Ezra didn’t much want to face Mom’s wrath, but he felt bad for Lily looking so nervous about it, so he held out his hand and sighed, “Come on, I’ll go with you. Next time just let me peel your banana, ok? I can just get it started for you.”

“And take off the black part I don’t like?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok I want a banana now.” It was like she’d already forgotten Mom was calling for them downstairs. Which was exactly what she said to Mom too when they stepped into the kitchen a moment later to find Mom pulling cleaning supplies and more rags out of the laundry closet. Ezra didn’t know those were in there.

“Definitely more than nineteen,” he told Lily.

“Can I have a banana, Mom?”

“Looks like there was an incident,” Isabella sighed.

“Someone murdered the milk,” Lily agreed. “It was me. I mean, it wasn’t me!”

“How’s mowing the lawn going?” Ezra asked. He just meant it as a change of subject, but Mom’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine… why?”

“It’s taking a long time.”

“Yeah well…” She looked sweaty and tired and serious, but her stern look cracked into a smile. “It’s not going great. Don’t tell JK.”

“I think he’s going to notice,” Ezra pointed out. “I thought he said not to do it because he would do it when he got home.” Not that he wanted to promote JK too much, but he did think it was better for JK to do that kind of work and Mom could just play with them or read or something.

“And I thought I told you two to get me if you needed any snack you couldn’t reach with both feet on the floor, huh?”

“We can say someone murdered the lawn mower!” Lily suggested.

“Ok enough with murder. We don’t use that word, remember? It’s time to do your time. We’re scrubbing these floors, Lily.”

Ezra looked at the kitchen, at Gidget eagerly licking the sticky floor, at his sweaty, tired Mom.

“I can help Lily scrub and you can put the lawn mower away and nobody gets fined a dollar and we can pretend like this never happened,” he suggested. “Except we should probably buy more milk.”

“Yeah, probably so,” Mom snorted. “Deal. Thanks for being such good kids trying to clean up, but next time just get me, ok? Here’s the spray, don’t get it in your face, I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t let Gidget get into the trash!” She was gone in a heartbeat and Ezra let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sold on JK lately, but he had to admit that Mom seemed a lot less stressed these days. She didn’t get so mad when they messed up!

“It’s really gross and sticky,” Lily complained. “Ewwww it smells bad.”

Ezra looked at the bottle and made a face as he read, “It’s grapefruit.”

“But I like grapes.”

“Not grapefruit, it’s different. It’s really gross. I bet JK likes grapefruit.”

“He likes grapes like me.”

“Lots of people like grapes,” Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Arrrr I’m a pirate!” Lily sang, sliding the rag back and forth on the ground where Ezra had sprayed. “I’m Pirate Princess Barbie!” She let out a sigh and sat up. “This is boring.”

“Yeah it’s boring because I’m faster than you. When you go that slow it’s boring.”

“I’m faster than you. I’m faster than anyone who ever lived,” Lily argued.

“Not faster than me. Prove it.”

Lily let out a war cry and set to scrubbing at a crazy pace. Ezra tried to keep a straight face but after half a minute couldn’t help it and mimicked her insane energy, yelling and scrubbing and making up a pirate song as best he could. He didn’t really like to sing but Lily never judged him so it was ok around her.

There, was that good enough? He and Lily sat next to each other and leaned against the cabinets, trying to judge by looking if they’d done enough.

“You’re supposed to say thank you for helping you,” he told Lily.

“But you didn’t get me a banana.”

“But I helped clean up the mess you made! Twice!”

“I already said thank you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“Well I didn’t hear you,” he said, certain she had not said thank you.

She sighed and let her head fall to his shoulder and murmured in a monotone voice, “Thank you, Ezra.”

Actually thanked, he was embarrassed to have demanded it. It was fine, he didn’t mind helping his sister. She was the only sister he had. Even if she was a little butt sometimes.

“Now can I have a banana?” she asked him.

Just as Gidget took a flying leap, grabbed the last two bananas off the counter and raced off.

“CATCH THAT DOG!”

#drabble #amended #my writing

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ladylooch · 8 months

Note

Emma trying to make breakfast and timo distracting her by giving her kisses and hugging her from behind

Well… I had good intentions… but it turned out 18+ again. ☠️

“Is he really still asleep?” Timo asks me from where he is on his back, chest rapidly expanding after our morning sex.

“Yeah. He’s teething again. Molars this time.” I pant back. “Mmm.” I sigh, turning onto my side and burrowing my nose into his sweaty chest. “I want more of that.”

“Okay, but I need to eat.” He says, reaching around to give my ass a hardy grip. “Damn, those squats are working.” I’ve been working with a personal trainer since we have been back in Switzerland. My tone has built significantly and Timo takes any chance he can get to admire me.

“I’ll have your booty by the end of the summer.” I giggle.

“Maybe.” He slaps my ass cheek, admiring it’s jiggle.

“Food.” I remind him when his other hand comes to massage my breast.

“Yeah, food.”

We roll out of bed. Timo draped his t-shirt over my shoulders, smiling at how good I look in it. He leans down, kissing along my jaw, heavily tonguing at me as I moan. I step into him more, letting my hands roam down to his back, resting on his ass cheeks. I press him into me, feeling him hard again.

“Baby.” He chuckles, forehead resting on mine. My lips chase his as he tries to pull away. I grip the back of his neck tightly, whimpering slightly.

“Just slide my panties to the side and have me again. Please.” My needy beg has him.

“Fuck.” Timo groans, then does just that while my hands hold me up at the foot of the bed.

After that, I make it downstairs. Timo confirms Lio is still asleep when he joins me in the kitchen.

“He wouldn't notice a train in his room right now.”

“We can wake him when breakfast is done.” I say, reaching up towards a few bowls for the pancake batter. “ I turn back towards the kitchen island, seeing Timo’s eyes appreciating my body. I pucker my lips for a smooch, then settle in with all the ingredients at the island. Timo heads to the coffee bar to makes us both a cup.

“For you.” Timo murmurs, setting mine next to me with perfectly frothed cream. His hand comes to rest on my opposite hip, watching as I do a quick whisk of the dry ingredients. “Lio has the best mama. Pancakes from scratch? Lucky boy.”

“It’s not hard.” I shrug, then reach for the other bowl to begin my wet ingredients. “Oh I need a banana.” I murmur mostly to myself, turning to walk back across the kitchen. Timo trails after me, hands following me every direction. I try to go back to the island again and he attacks me with kisses. His hands greedily grab me as I laugh. I tilt my head to one side, trying to weave away from his grasp. But then he buries his face into my neck, tickling me with his stubble until I can barely breathe. “Stop!” I wheeze. He releases me, but gives my ass another big slap. “You’re gonna leave a mark if you keep this up.”

“Intentionally.” He says after a slurp of coffee. He sets the cup down and is right back behind me. He is quiet for a moment, watching my work of mashing the banana into a pulp. “Can I have chocolate chips?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I think I deserve them for the three orgasms you’ve already had today.”

“Okay.” I chuckle and shrug. He is quiet again, keeping me pinned between him and the island. “Can I maybe have another inch?”

“No. You’re doing just fine like this.” I can feel his smile against the back of my neck. His lips begin to pepper my skin there. He then adds his teeth in, giving little nibbles that shoot pleasure down my limbs. “Mmm. T. We are never having breakfast if you keep this up.”

“Okay.”

“You need food! You’re a growing boy.” But I wiggle my butt into his front.

“Now I am.” He murmurs. His hands go under the hem of his shirt on me, reaching up to hold my breasts. “These look heavy.” He whispers next to my ear. He swipes across my nipples with his thumbs, then tugs my ear lobe into his mouth. I drop the fork in my hand, winding it to the back of his neck to hold him in place. He kisses down my jaw, asking me to turn my face. Our lips connect in a greedy smooch. Clearly, neither of us are satisfied, even after this morning. I spin on my toes, then gasp when Timo sets me on the counter quickly. His shoulders capture my legs as he spreads my thighs.

I work my body weight back onto one arm, groaning as he laps at my clit with his eager mouth.

“Remember when you thought you could live without me?” He quips, then goes in for another bite of me.

“No…” I gasp, “…Can’t recall.”

#TM: Loving & Leaving

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nagito-kissmaeda · 11 months

Text

if it isn't real, why does the sun still burn?

CHAPTER ONE: Rise and Shine CHAPTER TWO: i guess its all up to me now CHAPTER THREE: Predictably, everything gets worse CHAPTER FOUR: good morning CHAPTER FIVE: Something to eat CHAPTER SIX: a start CHAPTER SEVEN: the party don’t start ‘til CHAPTER EIGHT: your full hospitality CHAPTER NINE: visitation rights CHAPTER TEN: gamer girl moments

Summary : Like most people visiting this tag. You have always dreamed of meeting Nagito Komaeda for real, what you would do, what you would say? Things don’t go as planned.

AKA: Reader from our universe ends up in danganronpa and is just trying her best to keep everyone alive. and maybe to make komaeda kiss her.

Contains: she/her pronouns, canon typical violence ment Read on Ao3

Komaeda went back to acting like what he had done the day before never even happened.

He didn’t mention it once, not even when the two of you sat in near silence during dinner. You did appreciate that he thought to bring food from the dining hall and eat it with you instead of leaving you all alone. He made some comment about not being worthy to eat with the ultimates and that you are much more on his level. That was pretty par for the course with him though, and so not much of a concern.

You are growing restless, trapped in Komaeda’s cottage like this. You only have nine more days before your agreement with Komaeda comes to an end, at which point…well…he was going to kill you. He left the cottage earlier in the day, headed off with Togami to discuss something or other, you hope that he will tell you what when he comes back.

The couch starts feeling uncomfortable, so you stand up and start pacing back and forth, thoughts running a mile a minute.

When Komaeda kills you. You hope that he does it gently, kindly, maybe kisses you beforehand.

“If” you whisper to yourself, “If he kills me, not when.”

You huff aloud and dig through the bag of food that Hanamura left, grabbing a banana and taking an angry bite. Stress eating. Great. You had half expected a motive announcement this morning when Monokuma woke everyone up, but when nothing came, your anxieties only grew. There was no idea to know how things were progressing outside of the cottage if class 77B was changing their opinion of you or not.

There is a zit on your chin too. Which is just stellar.

A knock at the door has you freezing mid-step, Komaeda usually knocks before unlocking the door, but he is much more gentle about it.

Abandoning your banana on the coffee table, you step over to the door and open it just a crack, “Hello?” A bright pink eye peers back at you, “Uh…hey…am I botherin’ you?” Souda. The last time you were in a room together he cracked a wrench over your head. He whines like a sad dog when you don’t reply, “C’mon, please lemme talk to you. M’not gonna hit you again I promise.”

You huff and pull the door the rest of the way open. Souda is dithering on your doorstep, nervously playing with the zipper on his jumpsuit.

“Did you need something, Souda-san?” You ask.

He rubs the back of his neck and casts his eyes downward, avoiding your line of sight. You’ve always had a soft spot for Souda, he’s a dumbass, you like that about him.

“Yeah I uh…” he’s shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Look, can I just come in? I don’t wanna have this talk on your doorstep.” “Technically it’s Komaeda-san’s doorstep.” You say, “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you come in.”

This is true. Komaeda would have no problem with Souda coming inside, there wasn’t even any point in asking.

“Oh yeah…right…thanks.” He says, stepping past you and into the cottage. Once he is inside, you close the door and lean against it.

“So, are you ready to talk now?” He is in the middle of snooping around the room, but quickly spins to face you, “Yeah, sure, sorry I just uh-” He clears his throat and starts fiddling with his zipper again, “I just wanted to apologise, ya know? For knocking you out that one time.” He still isn't making eye contact, “We were all just really scared and stuff, like…fuck, that killing game business isn't a joke and we really thought-” You perk up a little at his words, “What made you change your mind if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Mioda-san has this crazy hearing, and she told us all exactly what she heard that night. Something about you stopping Komaeda-san?” Your heart starts racing, worried that everyone else now knows what Komaeda was planning during the party.

“And yeah, Komaeda-san laughed kinda weird and said he was just falling over, and you caught him and that’s all.” Souda finally meets your gaze, but then his eyes quickly dart away again, “Togami-san said something about reexamining the scene from that night, ‘cause there was a knife, and even if you didn’t want to use it, someone did.” That must have been what Komaeda pulled Togami away for this morning. To ask for a reexamination. That’s concerning because even a little detective work will reveal Komaeda as the attempted murderer and that will just cause another uproar that you don’t need right now.

Since you don’t respond, Souda clears his throat, “Anyway, that’s why I came to apologise.”

“Thanks, Souda-san.” You say, smiling, “Things did get pretty scary that night, so I don't really blame you for what you did. Just don’t do it again, my head still hurts.”

He yelps, “Yep! That’s a promise.” God what a loser , you adore him, “Does this mean I can head back to my own cottage now? Since I’m not a suspect anymore?” Souda shrugs a shoulder, “M’not sure, that’s really up to Togami-san I think, he’s running the show these days.” He gives you a smile, showing off his pointed teeth, “I think you’ll be okay though, lot’sa people want to say sorry, I just got here first cause like- I’m the one who actually hit you.” You laugh a little, covering your mouth with your hand, “No hard feelings, I promise.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t want you thinking I’m some sorta asshole, the wrench is usually for fixing stuff, not hitting people.” He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment and then turns a little pink, “Hey uh, since you’ve been locked up in here, you probably didn’t hear about it, but a bunch of the other girls are going to the beach tomorrow. If you want, you could probably join them.”

Huh. That’s weird. Technically the second island hasn't opened up yet, if it had Monomi would have announced it and you would have already run over there to unlock the way out, and yet the girls are still planning that beach trip. You suppose they are just going to the beach next to the hotel instead, but even still, it’s interesting that preplanned events are still happening.

“That sounds nice.” You reply, “I’ll need to get some sunscreen beforehand, but sure, I’ll go.” you give Souda a sly look and cross your arms, “How do you know about this trip though, Souda- kun? ”

He turns beet red and exclaims, “Mioda-san invited me I swear!” in a breathless panic.

You laugh again, “Either way, I guess I’ll see you there.” Provided nothing bad happens before then.

Komaeda comes back not long after Souda leaves, as usual, he knocks politely on the door to advise you of his return before letting himself in.

“Hey.” You say from where you are sitting on the couch, mindlessly farming in Stardew Valley, “Souda dropped by, everything went well with Togami-san, I take it?” Komaeda beams at you, gently shutting the door and kneeling beside the coffee table, “Remarkably well, though I should have known that someone as bright as the Ultimate Affluent Progeny would be amicable to a reexamination. Togami-san is a man of details, and I admire that.” Togami-san is hardly admirable, despite the long legs.

The real Togami-san, you mean. You would trust the Ultimate Imposter with your life.

“I guess I will start moving my things back tonight then, but I will still be able to count on your help, right?” Komaeda nods enthusiastically, “Yes, of course, I did promise, after all. Plus I can’t deny that I am interested to see where your path may lead us.”

“Thank you.” You say, and you really mean it.

Komaeda smiles at you, but just before he is able to reply, the monitor in the room comes to life.

The both of you freeze, and your heart is racing in your chest. Terrified

Monokuma begins to laugh, “Well, it looks like you lot are more boring than I thought and you were so close to getting the killing started too!”

You heave a sigh of relief, no one is dead.

“Annnnnnyway-” Monokuma continues, “Since you lot aren’t too keen on getting started I thought we would up the ante. Motive two, coming at’cha!”

Monokuma didn’t even need to finish the announcement before you were on your feet and out the door. Kicking up gravel as you skid at the exit of the hotel area and start running towards the central island. Komaeda is running behind you, trying his best to keep up. You have never been an athletic person, and if not for the adrenaline pumping through your veins you surely wouldn't be able to keep up this pace, Komaeda, on the other hand, is struggling.

You come to a stop at the bridge, turning around to see him doubled over, still a good 50 feet away. You cup your hands around your mouth and yell, “I need to keep going, are you okay?” Komaeda doesn’t lift his head but does give you a shaky thumbs up as he continues catching his breath.

“Okay! I’ll meet you at Jabberwock Park!” You replied, turning on your heel and continuing your mad dash over the bridge.

Your sandals aren't designed for running, and one of the buckles comes undone and gets caught in the slats of the bridge, miraculously, you don’t fall to the ground and you instead kick the shoe off and keep running. The gravel on the other side of the bridge is much less pleasant on your bare foot, but you don’t stop until you reach the park at the centre and all but collapse against the arcade machine.

It’s here , thank god .

A sob breaks free of your throat as you clutch tightly to the cool metal, legs wobbling beneath you as the strain of running that hard and that far finally catches up with you. You gulp in air, gratefully and much too fast, as you lift your head to start playing a hiccup escapes your throat and you huff irritably. You intend to take a few more seconds to catch your breath but are startled when the game boots automatically.

It has a splash from the game’s developer at the beginning, “MonokumSoft…ugh…of course.” you say rolling your eyes.

Then, the title screen, Twilight Syndrome Murder Case. Just like in the game.

You breathe a sigh of relief, glad that Monokuma doesn’t seem to have changed anything, even with your inclusion into the narrative. Luckily you know this part of the game back to front, and all you need to do is access the true ending before anyone else does, preventing even the acquisition of a motive.

You have little chance of beating someone like Pekoyama head-on, so preventing her from even trying is your best bet.

Another hiccup escapes you, just as you hit the start button on the game and are greeted with the familiar sight of the ominous lettering reading ‘2nd Day’. Luckily, Twilight Syndrome Murder Case has always been one of your favourite parts of SDR2, you’re secretly a huge fan of obscure Japanese horror games, and this part is not even subtle about the inspiration it takes from the Twilight Syndrome and Clock Tower IPs, so you have little effort grasping the controls and start moving your way through the story as quickly as possible.

Just as you finish Day Two and start working through Day Four, you are drawn away from the game by Komaeda’s wheezing breath when he finally stumbles into the park. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, his hair is windswept and messy, and there is a dusting of pink climbing up from his chest to his face.

He’s cute, but you knew that already.

“Apologies.” He wheezes, moving to stand beside you, chest still heaving, “You were remarkably fast” You hiccup again, “I’m not usually. Adrenaline helped.”

“I believe this is yours?” He says, holding out your lost shoe. You laugh and take it from him before dropping it on the ground and shoving your foot in, you would do the buckle up again later, “Yes, thank you.”

Komaeda hums to himself and then shuffles in a little closer so he can get a better look at the arcade cabinet. He smells a little sweaty, but it’s clean sweat so you don’t mind too much. Mostly you are just distracted by how close he is now, by how his arm subtly presses against yours.

Even though you know it is coming, you still jump a little when the words, “I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU” appear on the screen in blood. It makes you hiccup again, and Komaeda chuckles. “You’ve got the hiccups.” You wince, and go back to playing the game, “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s cute.” He says, and you feel a rush of blood through your whole body, but Komaeda loves to tease, so he quickly changes the topic, “Did I miss anything important?” “O-Oh…like in the game?” “Aha, yes, of course in the game.” You give him a quick rundown of the events so far as you continue playing, eventually moving onto the final scene where Girl A steps into the classroom and encounters the body of Girl E. Sato.

“Oh.” Komaeda says, brows pinching when the words ‘game over’ appear on the screen, “Well, that was not quite the motive I expected.” he squints at the screen and it makes his nose scrunch a little. Your palms are getting sweaty, “There must be more than that- what does down five-” “Already on it.” You say, cutting him off and exiting back to the title screen before tilting the right joystick down five times. You’re in a rush, hoping to get the game finished and stash away the reward before anyone else even knows you have played.

Komaeda is the exception.

Komaeda is always the exception.

“Ah, as I thought.” Komaeda says when the title screen changes to read ‘truth edition’, “It seems this game has more to it.” You nod your head, “It has a motive, that’s for sure.”

As you go back and play through the previously missing Day One, Komaeda nudges you with his shoulder.

“You’re surprisingly good at games for a talentless person.”

“Hm?” You say looking up from the game for just a moment “Oh, no, I just know what do to. Foresight, remember?”

Komaeda moves even closer to you, so close that you can feel his chest pressed against your back. You hold your breath as he leans forward, watching curiously as you help the girls on screen examine the crime scene, he is a lot taller than you are, so to get a better look at the screen, he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Your hands stiffen, and your heart nearly stops. Why does he keep doing this? Why does he just keep toying with you?

“Have you looked at the fish tank, yet?” He says.

You blink a few times, only just realising that you had stopped playing the game, “N-No, I’m just getting to it now. Then we just have a little more exposition before we jump to day three.” You feel Komaeda nod, the two of you watching as the end of Day one plays out and then day three begins.

“Hah.” Komaeda says, “Just as you said.” He inclines his head a little so he can look at you, and you swallow nervously, “If you were the ultimate clairvoyant and had lied about being talentless, you wouldn't hide that from me would you?”

You laugh, “the ultimate clairvoyant role is already taken, I’m surprised you don't know that.” His brow furrows, “Well, Monokuma did say our school memories were erased. Did they attend school with us?” Ah. You think. Fuck. Stupid Idiot. Shit. Fuck. Of course, he doesn’t remember.

“Uh.”

Komaeda smiles, “You can tell me.” God, when he looks at you like that, you want to tell him everything , “In the class below you.” You say quickly, “Please don’t ask me how I know, I just…I just do.” He chuckles again, “And that isn’t a talent?”

“Nah.” You reply, moving Guy F over to the furnace to examine the photos left behind by Girl E, “It’s not like an ability that I’ve had forever or a talent that I’ve honed, it’s just uh…happenstance, I guess?” You sigh, “either way, you can keep treating me like a nobody. No need to kneel before me or anything aha, I’m still talentless.”

“Hm. You didn’t seem to mind when I did it before.”

“Did what?”

“Knelt before you.”

Your cheeks burned bright red and you choked on any words you could have said.

Luckily, the game finally comes to a close before you have time to get more embarrassed. Komaeda and yourself watch the credits roll past in silence, and when it reaches the cast section, he hums to himself. With his chin resting on your shoulder, you can feel the vibration from his throat. It makes you sweat.

“So the characters in this game were some of our classmates here.” “Yes.” You reply.

“Kuzuryu-san has a sister?” “Had.” You reply

Komaeda giggles, “Yes, I support had is more appropriate.” Komaeda reaches around you to grab the joystick himself, effectively wrapping a skinny arm around your waist. He uses the joystick to reverse the credits roll so he can get a better look at the cast listings, “Ah. I think I have figured it out. That was a selfless act that Sato-san performed for Koizumi-san, I’m disappointed that she wasn’t more appreciative, her talent would only shine brighter without obstacles.” He sighs, “For a talentless person to attempt rising above their station by harassing an ultimate, well, I suppose she deserved her fate.”

There it is. You think. The reminder you so often need that Komaeda is not an uwu softboy. You shrug your shoulder, forcing him to stop leaning on you.

“That's a fucked up thing to say, Komaeda-san.”

Before he can reply, you are both distracted by the arcade machine letting out a little fanfare and dispensing a manilla folder from a small drawer under the control panel. You drop to a crouch and pull out the folder, eyebrows tugging together when you notice something else in there too, a small envelope. “Huh.” You say out loud and Komaeda drops down next to you. “You sound surprised.” He grins, “That doesn’t happen often.” You quickly tuck the envelope in your pocket before he notices you have it and produce the folder with a smile, “It just uh- bigger, than I thought it would be.” You say quickly.

Komaeda doesn’t quite seem to buy it, he gives you a saccharine smile but otherwise decides not to pry.

For now , you think.

“So, what did we win?” He asks, practically vibrating with excitement as you pull the folder open and shake out the photos. Four, as expected. You pass three of them over to Komaeda for him to examine himself, but continue clutching the one of Natsumi in your hand.

You realise just how much Natsumi looks like her brother. The blonde hair, the pink cheeks. Looking closer you can even see a small spattering of freckles across her nose.

You swallow. Unlike everyone here with you in the Neo World Program, Natsumi is dead and isn’t coming back. There is nothing you can do for her.

Passing the photo over to Komaeda, you are filled with resolve. Because you can save Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama. That much you can do.

“Now what?” He asks, smiling loosely, “We have the motive, what is next?” You smile back, a little uneasily, “I’ll need you to head back to the cottage.” You give him the empty folder and he quickly puts the photos back inside, “Hide these somewhere. I need to stay here and talk to whoever comes by next.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Komaeda asks.

You adjust yourself to sit on the ground with your legs stretched out in front of you, back leaning up against the arcade cabinet, “Yes. I’ll be fine. Do you promise to hide the photos? Remember our agreement?” He nods, “Of course, you have another nine days.” He shakes the folder and you hear the photos moving around inside, “Until then, these are our secret.” Christ, your whole body flushes at the words ‘our secret’. Our secret. Just the two of you.

Komaeda turns on his heel and starts heading back to the first island, his long coat fluttering in the breeze.

You bury your face in your hands.

This is going to be a long day.

#i never got around to uploading this here lol sorry #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #isekai

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kanamori-kamper-moved · 7 months

Note

Tron, any numbers you want!

hehe you’re give me too much power!!! Don’t tempt me to infodump about my babygirl.. but I’m gonna do it anyway!!

Here’s the ask game if anyone wants to send anymore characters!

12. Sexuality hc!

Vetrix has always been very gay to me. I always see people with these headcanons of him having a wife or smth but honestly I CANNOT see him with a woman. He’s very unashamedly a boykisser. His kids are all test tube babies, he’d sooner de-transition than willingly sleep with a woman.

He gets kind of weird around woman, kind of a mysognist because of internalized transphobia he needs to get over. Doesn’t excuse it but he’s trying </3

And technically not a sexuality hc but he’s very transmasc to me (or agender, depends on how I feel)! He uses He/They/It/Xe + Neos because why the fuck not. I like headcanoning old men as trans!! Just come and stop me >:3

7. A quote of them you remember

It’s either, “Maybe I’m just a bad dad!”, or “Your father always talked about friendship, and it only ended up being his undoing.” I might be misquoting that second one but its f the Shark Vs Quattro duel and it TORE MY HEART APART??? FUCKING CRIES????

5. Favourite Ship

Fathershipping, undoubtably. I know Most sub Fans are crazy about scientistshipping (which I do ship, to a lesser scale) but I find Fathershipping cuter. It’s funnier because the dub leans farther into Fathershipping and the sub leans more into scientistshipping. For context in episode 55, when Byron and Kazuma sit by the fire he makes a comment about faker being a good friend, but in the dub it’s changed so that Kazuma talks about how much of a good friend Byron is or smth to that effect. Funny detail I noticed :3

Like. Byron literally ASKS Kazuma to let him go into the portal (where he could’ve presumably died) because he wanted him to be safe instead of him. It takes SO MUCH to want to die for someone. There were also two tents in episode 55. THEY ARE LITERALLY IMPLIED TO HAVE SLEPT TOGETHER AUGHHH

I could go on a bigger tangent in another post (which I’m sure I have), but I just think their sweet.

Also I Hope I don’t get in trouble for this but their dynamic post-Barian world/astral world is just that one image of a hamster trying to eat a whole banana. Yes im implying what you think I am. Don’t ask

23. Future Headcanon

You know how Vetrix wasn’t reverted back to his original body? And how he’s just this stupid little baby man who has to go through puberty again? Yeah. He grows up into the most INSUFFERABLE (albeit like 50 year old) teenager, starts listening to Linkin Park and finally gets his drivers license for like the second time. He’s still very boykisser tho!! Tbh it’s only really exacerbated because hormones

28. The most unnecessary thing they did?

The whole possessing Shark thing. As much as I think him gaslighting Shark into thinking the evil homophobic rat killed his sister, what was the point lol. Like he could’ve stopped faker without Shark either way??

Also on another point but I have an issue with how Zexal villains are just treated as borderline evil until their redeemed and just do nothing of substance again. Vetrix is one of the worst cases of this. I could go off about this more in another post if asked.

3. A song that reminds you of them?

Not just one song! I have a whole playlist of songs that remind me of him :3 Take a listen if you want!!

#anthys asks #babygirl tag #yugioh zexal #Yugioh #ygo zexal #byron arclight #tron zexal #tron arclight #tron yugioh #vetrix #vetrix yugioh #Fathershipping

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invisibleraven · 1 year

Note

Grocery shopping for the rarepair of your choice!

No matter how much Reggie scowls, it doesn't make the fridge any less empty than before, so he closes it with a sigh. Maybe some toast? But the bread is down to the heels, and he's hungry but not that desperate yet. Even the fruit bowl is void save a sad orange and a fairly brown banana.

"There's nothing to eat!" he whines to himself, turning when he hears chuckling from the doorway.

"Guess it's time to go grocery shopping then," Ray says with a smile. Rose is curled around him, and leans up to peck his cheek.

"I'll make up a list." She turns to Reggie then. "Anything you want tesoro?"

"I'm fine with anything," Reggie deflects. He still feels like a guest here some days, no wanting to take advantage of Ray and Rose's kindness in letting him stay. Sure, he's less broken then when they first brought him home, but this place still feels like theirs, and he doesn't want to push to the point that they tell him to go.

He's not sure where his place is anymore, really.

Ray and Rose exchange glances, talking without words in that way they've perfected due to their years together. "How about you come with us?" Ray proposes.

"That way you can show us what brands you like. Pick out some of your own snacks," Rose says. "Maybe then all my crackers won't disappear in a day." Her smile is teasing, but Reggie still feels a tiny burn of shame until she laughs and ruffles his hair. "I just need to buy more it seems."

"I-I've never been grocery shopping before," Reggie admits.

"Not even as a kid?" Ray asks.

"My mom wasn't the kind to bring me, she left me with the neighbours, or by myself when I was old enough," Reggie replies with a shrug.

"Well then you're definitely coming with us," Rose surmises. She finishes off the list and grabs her purse, tugging her boys towards the car. Reggie sits in the back, as always, but grins when Rose sings loudly along with the radio. He doesn't join in-it still hurts some days, music. But he's happy enough to let Rose's voice fill the car. Ray even joins in sometimes, as off key as he is, usually making up words to songs just to make them laugh.

The grocery store looks huge to Reggie as they enter it, and he clutches Rose's hand so as to not get lost. The air is filled with a thousand smells, and there's hundreds of kinds of foods as far as th eye can see. His stomach grumbles, and he wonders how good of an idea it was to come here hungry.

He is about to fill the cart with everything, but he stalls. He has no idea how much is left in his bank account right now-most of what he earned from old gigs went to buying new shirts for The Orpheum, or strings for his now long neglected bass. So far Ray and Rose haven't asked him to chip in for food or rent, or anything, and he worries his bottom lip. He doesn't know if he's ready for a job, to leave the security of their home yet.

"Alright, fruit first!" Ray declares, filling a bag with apples. He turns to Reggie. "I'm gonna get some pears, do you like pears?"

Reggie's mind is whirling. Does he like pears? Shit, has he ever eaten a pear? He can feel his chest heaving, and Rose's hand rubbing at his back, whispering soft niceties in Spanish. It takes a moment to calm, and he looks at them both with watery eyes, an apology on his lips.

"Shh, it's okay hun," Rose assures him. "Too much?"

"Bad brain moment," Reggie says quietly with a shake of his head. "I... don't think I like pears, no."

"How about peaches?" Ray asks, not calling attention to Reggie's now passed panic.

"I like those," he says with a weak smile, wiping at his eyes. "MeeMaw used to grow them back in Georgia, and it was always fun making them into pie with her."

"I'd love to try that, if you remember the recipe," Rose says.

Reggie grins, tapping his temple. "It's all right here."

"Well then I'll get lots of peaches then," Ray says, loading the bag. "How about you and Rose get the veggies and we'll go to the cereal aisle next?"

"Can we get Lucky Charms?" Reggie asks timidly.

Rose laughs and kisses his forehead. "We can get as many boxes as you want tesoro."

Reggie grins as walks hand in hand with her towards the carrots, feeling a whole lot better about the grocery store.

Especially when Rose buys him a cart load of sugary cereal and extra boxes of her favourite crackers for them to share.

Later, his stomach and the fridge full, Reggie looks around him, at his things in this place, and the two people who share their home, and their love with him-and he finally knows where he belongs. Right here, with them.

He's home.

#filled prompts #ficlet #ray/rose/reggie #julie and the phantoms

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omg-snakes · 2 years

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what schedule do you feed your corn snakes on (particularly babies, but i would like to know about juveniles and adults as well since ideally mine will grow up to be one eventually), and how do you determine the size and amount of m.ice they get each time? i've seen lots of different schedule guidelines, some going by the snake''s length and some by weight, and i don't know which is the best to try and follow. like one site says until 15g they should be fed a p.inky every 4-5 days, but another site says they should be fed every 5-7 days until they're over 18 inches long and only says a feeder the size of the thickest part of the snake's body. i really want the best for my snake as she grows but i have no idea what the best guideline to follow is :(

Hey friend!

This is definitely something that gets easier with experience, and hopefully I can give you some guidelines to help make things easier while you get accustomed to your snake's needs.

For babies, I feed every 4-6 days or thereabouts. While I do aim for 5 days on the dot it doesn't always pan out in real life. Baby snakes are tough little critters, though, and an extra 24-48 hours of waiting for a meal on occasion isn't going to cause them to shrivel up. As long as meals are generally consistent, they'll be fine. I personally feed every 5 (ish) days for the first six months of life, and then if they're up to large pinkies by this point I gradually stretch their meals to every 7 (ish) days. Little guys and late starters will get more frequent meals until everybody's on the same growth trajectory. Subadults eat every 7 days until their fourth birthday, and then once they're adults they'll eat every 10-14 days for males and nonbreeding females and every 7 days for breeding females. Sometimes they get pushed a few days or even skip a meal entirely. If they're in shed, sometimes I'll elect not to offer. As long as meals are generally consistent with only occasional deviations, they'll be perfectly fine.

I tend to feed by weight since that's a little more easy to measure than length. Most snakes don't appreciate being stretched out against a measuring tape anyway. Also I suck at estimating so I ignore the "1x - 1.5x body width" thing. There are online tools to allow you to measure a snake coiled up if you take a photo of them next to a ruler but honestly who has time for all that? Just get a $10 kitchen scale and live your best life.

Baby snakes can take up to 20% of their body weight in a single meal. This means that a 10 gram baby can eat a 2 gram pinky without any trouble. A 20 gram baby can eat a 4 gram large pinky or small fuzzy or two 2 gram pinkies, etc. I recommend offering two smaller prey items for a few meals before stepping up to a single larger prey.

After they get up to fuzzies, start scaling that caloric intake back a bit to about 15%, and keep an eye on their body condition. Most adults need about 10% of their body weight per meal but it depends on their condition and metabolism. It's not a one-size-fits-all situation. Just like dogs and cats and humans, we all have different metabolisms and different individual caloric needs. As you get more familiar with your snake, you'll learn to read their body language and understand their metabolism and how best to maintain a healthy body condition.

I know so many people, even big-name breeders, who have obese corn snakes or who overfeed or "power-feed" snakes to get them to breeding size by their third birthday. Growth is about sustained health, not about making the biggest possible snake in the least amount of time. Corn snakes should be strong, long, and lean, with straight sides and a curved back like a loaf of banana bread. Some snakes will be more active or have a naturally faster metabolism and need more food, and some snakes will be naturally more lazy and need a little less. As you get to know them, you'll have a good idea of where they fall on the spectrum and adjust your husbandry to meet their individual need.

I recommend taking a look at some corn snake body condition guides to get an idea of what is "too thin" versus "too fat" and try to keep your snake right in the middle. Are they looking a tad lean after a shed or during the summer months on their regular diet? Increase prey size slightly or reduce time between meals. Are they looking a little pudgy? Decrease prey size, reduce meal frequency, and offer enrichment activities that encourage your snake to move and use their muscles.

If you're feeling unsure, never be afraid to pop your snake and/or their meal on the scale and give yourself some peace of mind.

You got this!

#answers to questions #text post #long post #snake #snakes #reptile #reptiles #reptiblr #corn snake #corn snakes #snake husbandry #corn snake husbandry #snake feeding #snake keeping #snake care

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asseweightloss · 11 months

Text

7 Ways to Lose Weight

Losing weight may be not easy. It requires lifelong changes in diet and exercise habits. However, there are a few simple things you can do to jump-start your weight loss.

Making even small changes in your diet and lifestyle can help you with weight loss results. So, if you’re ready to start your weight loss journey, here are 6 ways to get you started.

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1. Cut out processed foods

If you want to lose weight, you need to start by cutting out processed foods. Processed foods are high in calories and low in nutrition, and they can lead to weight gain. Instead, focus on eating whole, unprocessed foods. These are foods that are typically found in nature, and they’re packed with nutrients that your body needs. Plus, they’re lower in calories, so you can eat more without gaining weight.

Some processed foods to avoid include:

-Chips

-Cookies

-Cake

-Ice cream

-Pizza

- Fast food

Instead, try to eat more whole foods, such as:

-Fruits and vegetables

-Whole grains

-Lean proteins

-Nuts and seeds

-Healthy fats

2. Eat more fruits and vegetables

If you're looking to cut down on calories and lose weight, consuming more fruits and vegetables is a great place to start. Here are seven ways to make sure you're getting plenty of produce in your diet:

1. Incorporate fruits and vegetables into every meal. Start your day with a healthy breakfast that includes a banana or berries. Add a salad or vegetables to your lunch. And for dinner, make sure half of your plate is filled with fruits and vegetables.

2. Eat a wide variety of fruits and vegetables. Not only will this help you get the most nutrients, but you'll also be less likely to get bored with your diet. Include a mix of both cooked and raw fruits and vegetables at each meal.

3. Use fruits and vegetables as snacks. If you're looking for a healthy snack to tide you over, reach for some carrot sticks or an apple instead of candy or chips.

4. Keep a stash of cut-up fruits and vegetables in the fridge. This way, they'll be ready to eat when you're feeling hungry.

5. Cooking with fruits and vegetables can be more fun when you do it with others. And, they might just be more likely to eat them if they see you enjoying them.

6. Grow your own fruits and vegetables. Not only is this a great way to get fresh produce, but it can also be a fun and rewarding hobby.

7. Check the farmers market for seasonal produce.

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3. Avoid sugary drinks

If you’re looking to shed some pounds, cutting out sugary drinks can help you place to start. Just by making this one simple change, you can easily see results on the scale and in your overall health.

4. Avoid high-calorie foods

Dietary habits play a role in weight management. To lose weight, it is important to avoid high-calorie foods. Instead, opt for foods that are lower in calories but still filling. Good options include lean protein, fruits, and vegetables.

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5. Exercise regularly

If you’re trying to lose weight, exercise can help you to achieve your goals. Exercise burns calories, which can help you to create a calorie deficit and lose weight.

“This post contains affiliate links. If you use these links to buy something. I earn commissions. Thanks”

#weigtloss #ways to lose weight

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fumikomiyasaki · 11 months

Note

ⓦ for our muses sharing a watermelon at a picnic table

Adam & Carol

Summer Starters

Even if she disliked the summer heat, at least there was always ways to counter it... and also she at least needed to get a little of this sun energy... and so she invited Adam to a nice picnic, finding a good picnic table slightly covered by the tree... She placed many different cold fruits and drinks on the table preparing it a little as he stopped by.

"Just at the right time, I was just done with it all... it might not be special but I hope you like it."

"I never can say no to food, even if you are probably tastier."

She grew red at this comment. Hiding her face behind her hands.

"D-don't get me into my weird thoughts again... sit down and enjoy. I brought hopefully enough for us both."

Instead of sitting on the other side of the table, he sat next to her, both of them enjoying the shade of the tree while grabbing some of the fruits... eventually he offered her one half watermelon.

"We could eat it together. If you want to..."

With a firm nod she smiled and took the other side of it... both of them munching on it untill meeting in the middle cheek against cheek... he leaned close to kiss her, feeling a bit how he tried to lick some of the water from her lips away...

"Now you are as red as the watermelon." A bright smile from his she sighed a little.

"You really have it out for me today huh?..."

She smirked a little looking back at him... taking a small bite from one banana on the table before putting her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes.

"I could turn you as red as a strawberry too..."

Without hesitation she leaned fully against him and let her lips linger back on his... having his arm around her fully giving into the sweet taste of the previous fruit she ate, growing red as she giggled a little after the kiss was done.

"Guess I was sucessfull."

"I am glad you don't mind the fruit puns that much."

"Whats the worst they can do, make me sigh a little sure... people should loosen up more... I always told my parents if I want a boyfriend, a little humor would be great."

"Speaking of Family."

He ate another strawberry and then looked down at her a little hesitant.

"What is it?"

"Applecakes, would you accompany to my kingdom during summer vacation? I would be happy to introduce you to them."

She fumbled with her fingers nervous.

"I would but... isn't it a bit odd... royal families I heard often expect you to bring potential suitors not just a girlfriend."

"So? I want you to get to know them a little. They should know the one I love."

She let out a deep breath but then cuddle against him a little.

"Alright... then I would be happy to join you, Adam... just tell me if I need to pack anything appropriate in clothing or something."

He chuckled a little putting his hand on her head.

"Then lets enjoy the rest of the sweet taste you brough me, alright?"

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twst ocs #twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandoc #carol ann #carol x adam

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mosslog · 4 years

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i played the sims 2 castaway a lot as a kid (NOT stories just sims 2 castaway) and like im fully aware it’s not a good game i was just obsessed w it. i used to have it for the wii then our wii broke. then i spent a good 4 hours trying to get the game to work on a wii emulator. i got it for the ds but it just doesnt hit the same. it just realized today that i could try to get it to work on a ps2 emulator. why am i wasting more of my life trying to play this game

#i used to be obsessed w the idea of living on a deserted island as a kid #in hindsight i think it's bc i didnt want to grow up and like get a job #i just wanted to grow up and like eat bananas and make lean-to's

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kaseyskat · 2 years

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hello everyone! so. i am still on my own personal mini hiatus but over said hiatus i have been developing... a swap au! it's going to take me forever to write said swap au, but here is a little drabble set somewhere post reunion storyline-wise, for y'all :333

“The moon in Amphibia is red?”

The question is uttered breathlessly, as Anne herself stares up at the sky in awe. The bags under her eyes, here, are less profound, and she only looks wistful, less haunted. This is, inexplicably, a good thing, because Marcy thinks she might cry if her Anne keeps looking so sad.

“Isn’t it unique?” she says in response, sitting down next to Anne on the hill overlooking the town. It’s peaceful now, but Marcy has some potions tucked neatly into the pockets she had sewn herself into her cape, and Anne has the sword she had stolen from the tower, and maybe she’d be more worried if this were any other situation but it’s Anne.

It’s Anne.

That shouldn’t make Marcy feel as nervous and tingly as it does.

“This place is so weird,” Anne snorts, but she scoots over when Marcy sits down, allowing her space to lean against the tree. It’s not quite big enough for them both, though, so Marcy just ends up half leaning against Anne’s shoulder, tucked away neatly into her with a sigh. “I mean, giant bugs? Red moons? These gigantic herons attacked the tower once a little bit ago, it was… the most fun I had while I was there, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcy says, automatically.

“You’ve apologized so many times, Marmar,” Anne says listlessly, though she does turn her head with the smallest, wry little smile on her face, “I get it, it’s okay. I mean, you didn’t mean for us to end up so far away from each other, right?”

“Of course not!” Marcy protests, and she takes one of Anne’s hands very gently, squeezing it between her own. “I never wanted to put you in danger, you know? You’re… everything to me. I wish I could’ve gotten you out of the tower sooner.”

“Aww, Marmar,” Anne sniffs, and the smile on her face morphs into something… real. “Thanks. I know you haven’t had the best time here either, huh?”

“Well, I did live in the woods for a month,” Marcy recalls, and she crosses her legs at the ankle, still holding Anne’s hand as she leans against her. “It was really cool, but also really dangerous! Also, there’s not much to eat if you don’t know what’s poisonous or not… and I sprained my ankle really badly at the beginning, did I tell you that?”

“You didn’t, no,” Anne shakes her head, and there’s something akin to amusement sparkling in her eyes when Marcy looks up at her. “I… like hearing you talk about yourself.”

Marcy squints at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Well, back home, you would talk a lot, but… never about yourself? It was always about other things.” Anne shrugs, and she squeezes Marcy’s hand. “I had a lot of time to think, in the tower, and I realized… I feel like I don’t know you very well anymore.”

“Oh, Anne,” Marcy coos, “that wasn’t your fault, that was mine.”

Anne just looks at her, big and owlish.

“I was…” and she trails off here, because she’s barely come to terms with her own flaws, she only just started growing the confidence needed to put herself out there, surely she shouldn’t be saying stuff like this yet? But no, it’s Anne, and Anne, her oldest and dearest friend, deserves to know. “I hid myself a lot, you know? I can recognize that now. I was so afraid that you and Sasha would hate me - or worse, that you already did and were only tolerating me for what I could do for you - that I backed away on purpose. And my parents had so many expectations for me, it was just easier to hide behind the lives of fictional characters and everything else. So don’t blame yourself, Anna-Banana: it was all me.”

“But I like who I am now,” and Marcy brushes at her hair, giggling at how it falls over her eye, “I’m not ashamed of myself anymore. I want to be someone that you are proud to be friends with, you know?”

She squeaks, then, because Anne has pulled her into a hug, wrapping arms around her shoulders. It’s one of the most awkward experiences of Marcy’s life, but she leans into it, sighing as Anne squeezes her tightly, so tightly she can almost forget the absolute mortification of spilling her own secrets into the air.

“I am proud of you,” Anne whispers, and her voice is all hoarse, like the words have gotten caught in her throat. “I mean, look at you, you’ve grown so much! I hope…” she trails off here, and then laughs, pulling away from the hug with a shake of her head, “nevermind. I’m glad you’re doing okay here, Marbles.”

“Just you wait, Annie, you’ll see how cool Wartwood is,” Marcy promises, and though they’re not hugging anymore, she leans against Anne’s arm once again, keeping that same closeness. “They’ve already accepted me here, so they’ll accept you soon for sure! You’re so… good with people, anyways, I bet it won’t take nearly as long.”

Anne blinks, long and slow. “...you think I’m good with people?”

“Well duh!” Marcy laughs, and she nudges Anne’s side teasingly, though her cheeks flush up. “You’re so good with people, it’s insane! You make connections so quickly, and I just know the town’s gonna love you… in time, of course. You should’ve seen the first few weeks I was here!”

Anne laughs, and she’s blushing hard now too, finally not looking as worn and forlorn as she had, “I can only imagine. Okay, okay, alright. Will you show me around tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Marcy cheers, and she leaps to her feet, pumping her fist before offering Anne her hand. “Come on, Anne, we should head back now anyways. Long day ahead of us, yknow? Oh! I can introduce you to Wally! And Loggle! Oh this is going to be so much fun, you won’t have any regrets, promise!”

Anne laughs again, and she takes Marcy’s hand, allowing Marcy to pull her to her feet, “okay, Marbles,” she says, quietly, and her eyes sparkle in the vague light of the stars, “okay.”

#kasey writes stuff #marcy flour au #yes thats what im calling it sdhfkdshfksf #amphibia #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #the marcannes are real in this one yall

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vanderlustwords · 3 years

Note

What if Steve leaves and she finds out she’s pregnant? I really love your alternate ending where he leaves for Peggy and wondering if you could write more about it. Doesn’t have to be him leaving a child behind that was just a question that popped into my head

Pairing: (past) Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Continuation of: This Dress is Karma || Alternate Ending

Warnings: unbeta'd. Angst ending for Steeb.

Note: I don't know how you roped me into writing a 2.3k continuation but here I am LOL

Count: ~2.3k

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You shut the door with a soft click, waiting until you hear the quiet footsteps fade away. The lump in your throat gets harder to swallow as you turn around, leaning back against the door and let out a shaky sigh.

You can't help but think those were some brave words you said to Steve. You desperately wanted them to be true. You did want to be so happy that it would physically pain Steve if he were to ever witness it.

You wanted it to be true that you were never going to see him again because he had hurt you so much, and he needed to stay away from you.

But when you lift your trembling hand to your stomach, you wonder if everything you said had been nothing more than a brave front.

"You alright?"

You immediately look up and see Bucky stepping out of the guest room, fully dressed with towel-dried hair.

You swallow and force a smile as you drop your hand.

"Yeah, you ready to head out?" You ask him as you stand up straight.

Bucky nods with a grumble before he grabs a strand of his hair. "I need a haircut first, though. Do you think we could find a barber first?"

"Sure," you say, turning around and opening the door with Bucky following you behind.

"You sure everything is okay?" Bucky asks you again.

The way your throat feels raw, the hysterical words that want to escape your mouth make you feel dizzy. You want to put your hand against your stomach again as if to see if you could suddenly feel a bump.

But you refrain because Bucky would get suspicious. Well, he'd probably think you had a stomachache first, but if you didn't stop acting strange, he would pry.

"Everything's fine," you mumble.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

As the weeks pass, more and more things begin to slip from you.

There is a layer of never-ending panic that sits right beneath your skin, crawling and setting your nerves on fire.

When you began to get morning sickness and threw up into the toilet, you began to shake.

The reality of your situation began to hit you.

You were pregnant.

With Steve's child.

Steve, who had abandoned you and was grey and old and probably would pass away soon.

The notion of it all had you throwing up in the toilet again.

You were alone, and you were scared.

What were you going to do? You couldn't rely on Steve anymore.

You looked down at your relatively flat stomach still, placing your hand against it.

There was a life growing inside you. What were you going to do?

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It was harder to hide when Bucky came over almost every other day, even though he didn't live with you. He had stayed for a week after the confrontation with Steve but quickly found his own place.

Initially, that had made you feel more alone, like everyone couldn't wait to escape from you. But it had worked out when you needed alone time.

Bucky was currently in your kitchen, cooking up steaks for lunch for the two of you.

The smell of it made you deathly pale.

"What's going on with you?" Bucky asked with a frown as he set the steaks aside to rest.

You had to swallow hard before you could answer. "Nothing," you said weakly. "I'm—I'm sorry. I know you came all the way here to cook but I'm not really hungry."

"You've been saying that for days now, doll," Bucky pursed his lip. "I feel like I haven't seen you eat a proper meal lately. What's going on? I know things have been...hard. Especially since you last saw Steve, but this isn't okay. I need you to eat something in front of me that isn't pretzels, bananas, or bread."

The idea of sliding a piece of steak basted in butter had your stomach knot itself painfully.

You shook your head, but when Bucky insisted, slicing the steak and you watched the juices run, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You took off to the bathroom in haste.

"Hey—" Bucky called out and took off after you, but you were quick to shut the door before you fell to your knees over the toilet and hurled.

"What's wrong?" Bucky yelled through the door, trying to jiggle it open but found you had locked it. "Open the door, doll. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," you said shakily as you grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your mouth, eyes hot with tears. "I just—I just haven't been feeling well."

The silence on the other side of the door only lingered for a moment before Bucky used his metal arm to turn the doorknob so hard, it broke open.

He found you sitting on the floor, over the toilets, eyes rimmed red and your face pale.

Bucky carefully walks in and kneels slowly before you.

He thinks back the couple of weeks and how you've been going to the bathroom a lot more, and how you don't like going to restaurants to eat. You've been eating at home and the strangest things and wearing more flowy shirts.

He looks at your face, and the way you're trying to hold back your tears makes Bucky feel dread.

"Doll..." he calls you softly. "Are you—Are you pregnant?"

You let out a choked sob in response, face dropping as you close your eyes.

Bucky's quick to hold you in his arms as he strokes your back, his heart dropping.

There was only one person who could've gotten you pregnant.

There had been some dumb shit Steve's done the entire time Bucky's known him. Always getting into scraps he couldn't finish, always prideful when Bucky wanted to help him.

But it had been the first time Bucky's ever been so fucking pissed at Steve. It was the first time Bucky couldn't defend or make an excuse for his friend.

"Bucky, what am I going to do?" You trembled in his arms. "I can't—Steve isn't—I want to keep it but I'm alone."

Bucky swallowed so hard it was painful.

There was no fucking way he was ready to be a dad or step up in any kind of way—that is, if you even let him.

Fuck, you two didn't even have feelings for each other or anything. There was something, maybe, Bucky thought for the future. But now?

"You're not alone," Bucky reassured, keeping his voice still for your sake. "I'm here. I'm here all the way and I'm not gonna leave you, doll. Ever."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You manage to keep the fact that you're pregnant under the wraps easily. It helps that since saving the world, no one really meets up anymore. A part of you worries because you can't find Wanda anywhere, but you know she can find you if she wanted to.

Sam might be the only other person who knows, and Bucky was begrudging when accepting his help.

Months pass, and you're surprised how dedicated Bucky is. You're pretty sure you're on the verge of a mental breakdown constantly. A part of you worries Steve will show up, but Bucky reassures you that there's nothing Steve could do even if he did show up.

"Fuck..." you swore as Bucky was in the middle of figuring out how to build the crib the two of you got from Ikea. He looks up at you alarmingly. "I think my water just broke."

"Oh, shit, okay, okay!" Bucky jumps up right away and starts running around to grab the prepared bag as he helps you out into the car. "Don't panic!"

"Bucky, I'm literally about to push a baby out of my body. I'm going to fucking panic if I want to," you snap, and Bucky bites his lip to refrain from speaking as he zips through traffic.

"Oh, god," you say under your breath. You were having a baby. You were actually going to have a baby.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"Bucky, you can't just carry her everywhere," you grumbled as you pushed the stroller through the park. "You're spoiling her."

"Yes, I can. She wants me to carry her and whatever my princess wants, she gets." Bucky declared indignantly at you while sticking his tongue out.

You sighed with a smile.

You couldn't believe a year has passed. Despite the time passing, you never really felt fully prepared as a mother. You were scared you were fucking it up all the time if you're honest.

Bucky holds your hand, and you give him a shy smile. That was new too. Slow and steady, as Bucky has always been, and you think you were falling for him because of that.

When you look up, your heart stops.

"Oh," Steve blinked.

Another year has passed, but you find Steve doesn't look too different. A little more tired perhaps, but still...Steve.

You feel panic creep up in your chest that threatens to become a panic attack before Bucky squeezes your hand.

"Breathe, doll," he whispers encouragingly to you, but it's loud enough for Steve to catch.

You do as he says, taking a few calming breaths. You want to keep walking, but it seems Steve can't stop staring at the child in Bucky's arms.

"Why don't you take Hazel to the pond? She really likes looking at the ducks," you tell Bucky, and he nods, warily looking at you and Steve. He sends Steve a curt nod before he takes the stroller with him and walks off.

Steve's eyes trail after Bucky.

You know then that he knows. It's not hard after all. Hazel looks like a spitting image of Steve, something that had been hard for you to deal with at first. Her blonde hair and blue eyes—the blue eyes were easier since Bucky's eyes were blue too, even if a darker shade.

But Hazel was so lovely; you loved her so easily.

"When did you know?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "The day before we all saved the world."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Steve's voice was pained and betrayed, and you cocked your brow at him.

"Why? So you would stay?"

"Yes, I would have!" Steve insisted.

The sheer stupidity of the situation had you give a humourless laugh.

"The last thing I want is for you to stay because of a baby, Steve. You wanted to leave, despite everything, you chose to leave. We would only hate each other in the long run."

"That's not true," Steve denied. "When I made that choice, it wasn't because I didn't love you anymore."

"No, you just didn't love me enough."

The words rang clear, almost throwing Steve off-kilter.

The silence fell, and the two of you could hear Hazel laughing with Bucky in the distance as she shrieked.

"Don't you think I deserved to know about her?" Steve asked with his lips pursed.

"No," you answered honestly. "What do you, a 90 something-year-old man, have to offer her? You certainly can't step up and be her father. Your time keeps running out and the last thing I need is for Hazel to have instability. Did you want to be her grandfather? She's already met mine, so do you want to pretend to be Bucky's?"

"So, you're just gonna lie to her and let her think Bucky is her dad?"

Your eyes flash angrily.

"Bucky is her dad. He's the only dad that counts in every way. Do you know how hard it was for me? I was scared shitless, Steve. You can delude yourself into thinking otherwise, but you're unreliable. I couldn't come to you for help," you snap at him. "Do you know who was there every time I was puking my guts out, crying or screaming, or wanted pickles with peanut butter at 2AM? Who do you think was there for every appointment. Who bought fifty parenting and baby books to study religiously? It was Bucky. Even though I knew he was scared too, he was there. So, don't fucking try to make me and Bucky look like the bad guy. You have NOTHING to offer to Hazel."

Steve stood there wide-eyed, guilt crowding over his eyes. Steve doesn't want to say he regrets going back because that would mean a lifetime of regrets he can't get back.

"You're right," Steve said slowly, trying to appease your anger. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's not my place to say anything."

Even though Steve says it, he looks over to the little girl squealing in Bucky's arms. He looks at her blonde hair that she clearly got from him and your nose.

He and Peggy had children—children he loved more than anything.

But...the idea of his child with you...that was another reality he missed.

It seems to be that way always for him, Steve thought somberly. He was always missing something. Maybe you had been right about him.

Steve listens as you take a deep breath in and exhale.

"Do you want to meet her?" You offer, and Steve can tell it's difficult for you to say those words.

"If you're okay with it," Steve said slowly.

You nod stiffly. "It's fine as long as you respect my wishes and refrain from telling her you're her bio dad. I want to save that conversation for when she's older and able to understand it more."

You don't say it, but Steve is already thinking how he'll most likely be gone by then.

The two of you begin to walk towards Bucky and Hazel.

"What will you tell her?" Steve asked.

"The truth," you shrug. "That you were the world's greatest hero and you loved her and would've loved to get to know her if you stayed, but you didn't and it wasn't her fault."

"Right, it was mine," Steve felt a sting in the back of his throat.

"I don't think it was anyone's fault," you tell him. "It's just karma, Steve. I wasn't enough for you and now you're not enough for Hazel."

Right, Steve thought somberly as he looked at you in your summer dress. It was different from the sexy red one that used to drive him insane.

It was a calm peace, a show of your motherhood and graceful maturity.

This dress is karma, too.

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