#spaghetti isn’t related Its just what I had for dinner

[kenneduck]

Ahhh!!

This time I’m here with zora kid oc concepts for me and @werewolfsister !!

On the left is Kenne and Bazz’s son! On the right is Esis and Viri’s daughter! (That Kenne would be a surrogate for).

These two half siblings are very much loved by their parents!! But they definitely bicker to each other haha. I know that Bazz and Kenne’s kid would be quiet and probably spend a lot of time hiding behind his parent’s leg or sitting in nature and being alone. Then Viri and Esis’ kid would be finding random critters in nature to show her brother who is probably terrified. And tease him about being scared.

//this is just Wolf Children kid dynamics who can blame me I love that movie//

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

[onthepyre]

like real people do

1.4k prinxiety, featuring roman being incredibly stupid

To Roman, almost everything about Virgil is curious.  A lot of it is why.  Why does Virgil try to hide his smile — unless he's with Roman?  Why does he pretend he likes black coffee only to dump gallons of cream and sugar in when nobody's looking?  Why is he so incredibly… adorable?

(Roman isn't quite sure that's the right word, but it's the closest one he can find.)

But there are other things, too.  Where does he find such pigmented eye shadow?  What's his middle name?  Does he like Roman's singing voice?

Roman wants to know everything.  But lately, there's one question that's been almost permanently stuck in his mind: what would it be like to kiss Virgil?

Okay, wait, hang on.  He's not in love or anything — it's just curiosity!  It has absolutely nothing to do with the fervent eye contact Virgil will not stop making whenever someone brings up their love life (Roman can't figure out why — is he trying to show him how dumb he thinks it is?  That he wants to leave?  That he's jealous?  It can't be that).  And it isn't at all related to how he bites his bottom lip when he gets stressed out, which happens far too often for Roman to be okay with it.  And it definitely doesn't stem from Virgil's new experiments with makeup — especially the lipstick.  That's completely unrelated.

He's just curious, okay?  He wants to know.  He feels like he's been spending too much time with Logan, but this idea has wormed its way into his head and it won't leave.

Would Virgil be gentle?  Or would he throw his usual caution to the wind and press hard against Roman's mouth?  Would he go slowly?  What would he do with his hands?  What would Roman do with his hands?  Will teeth be involved?  (Somehow, that seems in character.)  Would Roman even do it right?

And for some reason, it is agonizing that Roman doesn't know the answer to any of these questions.  He's known Virgil for years and hasn't even kissed him once, which he thinks is quite a shame.  

(He's known Patton for even longer and it doesn't get on Roman's nerves that he hasn't kissed him, but he ignores this.)

So, he devises a plan.  It isn't a terribly complicated one, but he assumes this is for the better.  There are less steps to mess up, and fewer things that can go wrong.

First, he gets Virgil alone (he knows it'll make him less nervous).  This part isn't that hard — Roman knocks on Virgil's door at a groggy hour between afternoon and evening, when he knows Virgil will be home.  Virgil rolls his eyes — ask next time, asshole — but his smile betrays his harsh words.

He invites Roman in, and Roman tries to play it cool for a bit.  

"What are you here for?" Virgil asks as he sits down to turn on the TV.

"I missed your face," Roman says, which isn't untrue, but definitely isn't the main goal of his visit, nor does it fit the "calm and collected" vibe he was going for.

Virgil shakes his head a bit and shoots Roman a weird look, but forgets it almost immediately when he finds The Nightmare Before Christmas on Netflix.

"Oh, shit!  They must've just added this!"  He smiles, wide, and Roman's brain just screams, screams kiss him kiss him kiss him over a monotone of wordless noise.  But he doesn't, not yet, because he doesn't want to ruin Virgil's good mood even though something in the back of his mind tells him it wouldn't.

The noise in his head begins again when Virgil turns to lean against the arm of the sofa and throws his legs over Roman's lap, which is far more affection than he's ever shown before, at least through touch.  And Roman reminds himself this is just curiosity, just a vague sense of wonder, and definitely not a debilitating crush.

And this continues, all through the movie, every time Virgil shifts a little bit closer or smiles.  And Roman absolutely loses his mind when Virgil begins to sing along under his breath because his voice is so pretty and it takes every fiber in Roman's body to stop him from diving across the sofa and kissing Virgil.

The credits roll and Virgil looks over and stares for a second.  "Do you want to stay for dinner?" he asks, finally, with a remnant of a smile in his voice.

And Roman, like a fool, says, "Uh, yeah, I should — I should be able to."

Virgil practically bounces off the couch and into the kitchen, with Roman not far behind him.  He digs through the cabinets and settles on spaghetti, but not without suggesting at least three other dishes and deciding, without Roman's input, that he doesn't want to make them.

"Can I…" Roman begins, trying to decide if he's actually going to go through with this or not.

"Can you what?"

Roman chickens out at the last moment.  "Can I ask you something kind of weird?"

Virgil makes a face.  "I mean, within reason."  He pauses.  "You're making me nervous, Princey."

Roman takes a deep breath.  "Have you ever kissed a boy?"

Suddenly Virgil can't look at him.  He frowns into the boiling water.  "Uh, no.  I thought I was straight for fourteen years, repressed like hell for another five, plus nobody has ever asked me out and there's no way in hell I'm going to.  So.  No, I haven't."  He stares at his spaghetti for a bit longer, then glances over at Roman.  "Have you?"

Roman grins.  "A few times.  My first kiss was pretty shit — I think he actually tried to gag me with his tongue."  This prompts a chuckle out of Virgil, and he speaks again.

"I did kiss a girl once, when I was fifteen.  She turned out to be a lesbian, which should give you a pretty good idea of what it was like."

Roman grins.  "Well, that doesn't count, then.  It's like kissing your grandmother."

There's silence except for the boiling water, just for a moment, until Virgil continues.  "I kinda wish I had.  Kissed a boy, I mean.  Just to get it over with."

And.  Wow.  Okay.  This is Roman's moment.  Without actually looking at Virgil, he stutters out, "If — I can.  Um.  I'll kiss you, if you want."

Virgil's face turns three shades of red in seconds, and Roman can only imagine his is the same.  There's a long pause and Roman is worried that he has massively fucked up until Virgil says, "Yeah.  Okay."  And Roman does his best to squash the feeling of elation in his chest but gives up in seconds because wow.

Virgil moves towards Roman but stops at least a foot from him, making direct eye contact the whole time.  Roman does manage to overcome the urge to make fun of him and takes the last step, so he's only inches from Virgil's face.  Virgil's eyes are wide as he stares at Roman.  He places his hands on the back of Roman's neck and his gaze falls to Roman's lips and he finally, finally closes the gap.

There's about five seconds of just still, soft lip-on-lip contact, which already has Roman's heart beating fast, but then Virgil sighs through his nose and Roman can feel the breath on his face and the floodgates open.

Roman hand finds the small of Virgil's back and tugs him closer.  Virgil's mouth, hot against Roman's, falls open, and Roman's response is almost too enthusiastic.  He makes an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat and Virgil presses harder against him.  Virgil smiles and Roman can feel it against his lips and.

Oh.

Maybe this is love.

And Roman pulls back at this realization.  Virgil's eyes stay closed for just a moment and he frowns before looking up at Roman.

"What's wrong?"  Virgil's voice is quiet and gentle and it breaks Roman's heart.

"I can't.  I'm so sorry, I — this is my fault."

And Virgil's face is painful and for a second Roman almost wants to cry.

"Ro, what do you mean, I-"

"I'm in love with you, Virgil."  

Virgil screws up his face, frowning almost, and Roman turns to go — and Virgil grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss.

This one is shorter, just long enough and forceful enough for Virgil to make his point before he pulls away.  He presses his forehead against Roman's, smirking slightly.  

"Yeah, and?"

"Wait, do you mean-"

"Yes, dumbass.  I love you too."

Roman laughs — giggles — and pulls Virgil forward again (this is the third time he's kissed Virgil) and he feels him laugh and it's everything.

[bubbyleh]

Do I Know You? - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Biological Research

The prospect is simple. Coomer and Kleiner have a report due on Monday, and they’re running short on time to write it. So Coomer, as friendly as he is, decided to invite Kleiner over to his and Bubby’s dorm for dinner, following which they would finish up their work.

But the preparation? It’s absolutely killing Bubby.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bubby swears at the boiling pot, quickly turning back to their fiancé. “Harold, we've already ruined dinner. Spaghetti is way too cliche!”

“You’re overthinking it,” Coomer attempts to calm his partner. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Bubby crosses their arms. “It’s not just spaghetti! This is the first time we’re having a friend over! It needs to go well!”

Coomer laughs jovially. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to scrap the pasta and make something else!”

Bubby groans. “What would we serve, then? Sandwiches?!” they gesture to the kitchen clock, which reads 6:55. “We don’t have enough time to start from scratch!”

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Five minutes early, and Bubby is so startled he fumbles with the tongs they’re holding.

Coomer slaps Bubby’s back. “I guess it will have to do, then!” he declares, setting off towards the door before Bubby can say anything else.

For a brief second, Bubby is too stunned to follow. “Wait, Harold!” he shouts, running after him. “We can still cancel!”

- ○ -

For all Bubby’s worrying and whining, dinner ends up a huge success. Spaghetti, as it turns out, is a universally loved and adored meal, and is quick to modify to match the needs of the consumer. The only real issue that occurs relating to the meal is when Kleiner begins to gather his dishes, and Bubby makes a show of snatching his plate away from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bubby glares down at him. “You’re our guest. Go do your work with Harold.”

Kleiner appears flustered. “Well, I could at least take it to the sink-”

“No, my house,” they counter. “Sit on the couch now and write your report.”

Bubby allows themself a victory smirk as Kleiner backs off, holding his hands up in faux defeat and leaving to join Coomer. Of course, since the kitchens in Black Mesa’s couples dorms can only really be classified as part of the living room, he still has a front row seat to Kleiner and Coomer’s report-writing process, even if he’s preoccupied with washing the dishes.

There’s something about the situation Bubby has found themself in that they can’t quite describe. Coomer and Kleiner chatting in the background as they clean up dinner, half listening to the two of them laugh at an offhand comment. At its core is a familiarity that they felt back when they met Isaac for the first time. The knowledge that they had met this person before, but for the life of them, they couldn’t figure out where.

But he's happy, he realizes. Coomer and Kleiner get along, and he’s happy about it.

Maybe this is friendship?

Their musings are interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“I got it!” they shout towards the couch before Coomer can even think about standing. He dries his hands with a spare rag, answering the phone as they make their way into the bedroom.

“Hello? Who is this?” they ask.

“B? It’s Dr. Cynthia,” the voice on the other end responds. “Are you available right now?”

Bubby closes the bedroom door behind themself with a soft click. Best not to disturb Harold and Isaac.

“Is everything alright?” Bubby questions. Usually it’s great to hear from Dr. Cynthia, or rather, Dr. Grey. She’s been on their project for as long as they can remember, and she’s always treated them with a kindness that Dr. Daniels had been loath to show. But a random phone call so late in the evening, especially with the clear stress in Cynthia’s voice, can’t be a good thing.

“B, I’ve been in meetings all day,” Dr. Cynthia sighs. “Dr. Daniels died last night. They’ve been trying to shut down your project for good, but uh… I’ve been dealing with the loose ends.”

Bubby feels their stomach twist, and their heart is racing a mile a minute. “Am I safe?”

“Oh gosh, Bubby. You’re more than safe,” she assures him. “I made sure of that. If you can come down tonight, we can talk it through in person.”

They glance towards the door, beyond which they can still hear Isaac and Harold speaking to each other, muffled. To be honest, they were planning on settling down with a book they’d been working through. But this sounds way more important than finishing up The Great Gatsby.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll…” they begin looking around for their keys. “I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

Dr. Cynthia says something else before hanging up, but Bubby doesn’t quite hear it. There’s blood rushing through their ears. Dr. Daniels is dead. The literal worst bastard in the entire world is gone, and for some reason, Bubby is scared.

They leave the dorm in a bit of a haze, grabbing his keys, apologizing to Kleiner and muttering a quick explanation to Harold before he goes. Harold seems concerned, but when Bubby tells him it’s fine, he’s also saying the same thing to himself.

- ○ -

It only takes about an hour for the folks at Biological Research to explain everything to Bubby. What they have planned for him isn’t actually that bad. Obviously, Black Mesa’s higher ups aren’t letting them go completely, but free reign of the facility without having any obligations to Biological Research is more than they expected. Worst case scenario, Black Mesa was going to kill them off, so at least they get to live.

Plus, they’re going to actually be paid for their work now. That’s very nice.

The real surprise is when Dr. Cynthia slides a folder labelled B-K55 towards him. It’s thick, which is expected, considering it’s from an almost forty year-old experiment.

“Is that my file?” Bubby tilts their head.

Dr. Cynthia nods. “I got access to the fully unredacted version today. I actually learned some stuff.”

Bubby hesitates. “And I’m allowed to read it?”

“Well, yes, but,” Dr. Cynthia glances at the file. “There’s something you should know first.” She opens the file, flipping towards some of the earlier documents. “About your origins.”

She points, and Bubby follows her gaze. Paperclipped to the document are several photographs of a small child, around a year old, with a head of dark hair. In one picture, the baby is sitting in the grass and laughing, reaching their hands towards something offscreen. In another they’re standing, though clearly holding onto someone’s leg for support; their little hands are clenching onto the person’s pants for dear life. There are more pictures like it, startlingly domestic scenes that make absolutely no sense to be inside of a classified file from a sketchy research facility. At least, not until Dr. Cynthia speaks.

“Bubby,” she says. “Black Mesa didn’t make you.”

And suddenly, it clicks.

That’s not just any child. That’s Bubby.

Bubby before Black Mesa got its claws on him. They drag the file closer, and just looking at the pictures takes their breath away. That’s an actual human being, and from the looks of it, one who had a family too. One of these pictures is just them being held by an unseen individual, but they look so happy to be there, close to someone who loves them.

They feel like they were just hit by a truck.

“Holy shit,” they manage to choke out. “I’m a real person.”

[seokstyle]

critical condition (m) - 2

pair: hoseok x reader, light jungkook x reader (series) themes: med student!reader, nurse!hoseok, lots of medically-related flirting genre: smut, some fluff, future angst warnings: jealousyyyyy, alcohol, nothing too crazy (yet 👀)

you knew that your first rotation as a medical student was going to have its challenges. you did not anticipate one of those challenges to be dealing with a handsome ER nurse who won’t give you a break.

word count: 4k

part 1 | masterlist

“No, I am not going to call in pretending to be your dad and tell the ER secretary you’re sick.”

“Some friend you are, huh Joon,” you slump back in the cafeteria chair. “You know I would’ve done the same for you. They would’ve bought it if I told them it was food poisoning! AND,” you point your plastic knife at him for emphasis, “I could have given them a differential on what I think caused my symptoms, but no,” you grumble.

“Oh, come on, you know they would never buy it,” Namjoon laughs as you pout. “Weren’t you telling me a few days ago about how things have gotten a little easier?”

“Well... they kinda had, but-”

“No, no buts!” He puts up his hands to stop your protests. “No more selling yourself short! You even got praise from the attending, right?”

You nod hesitantly. Yes, you had told your friend about how the case presentation had gone okay with the tough-to-impress attending earlier, and you definitely had been a little more relaxed on your rotations since that day. Riding the confidence boost from that performance, you had been impressing the resident and attending physicians more and more with each day since.

“See? Besides,” Namjoon continues, “what good would it do to avoid whatever is bothering you? We don’t run from our problems, Y/N. We face them head on!”

You listen quietly to your friend’s lecture, twirling spaghetti around your fork and cursing his tendencies to slip into motivational speaker mode. Unlike you, Namjoon was blissfully unaware of what had transpired that day with Hoseok.

But you were definitely, definitely aware of the last time you saw him. And also aware that the reason you had been so relaxed was that you hadn’t had overlapping shifts scheduled with Hoseok since then.

Until today, that is.

You had no idea what to expect. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your evaluations; you trusted him enough to know that. But still, a 12 hour shift with Hoseok on your team after that stunt he pulled? It was filled with too many uncertainties for you to stay calm at this moment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You snap out of your thoughts. Namjoon is looking at you, concern etched across his features. “I know I’m messing around, but you have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

You smile. “I’m okay, Joon, I promise.” You extend your pinky out to him, a gesture to show you really meant it. He grins, wrapping his pinky around yours and squeezing. “Now go! You’re gonna be late!”

“Ah, shit,” he curses as he glances at the cafeteria wall clock, springing up from his seat with his dinner tray in hand. “Good luck, you got this!” he calls out to you, as he makes a mad dash back to the pediatric wing. You slump back in your seat with a sigh. Yeah, you’re gonna need all the good luck you can get.

You had continued under Seokjin’s charge for the past few days, and he had been gracious enough to not bring up the elephant in the room of what he had walked into that night. He had texted you last minute this morning to let you know he was off today and you would be under another resident’s charge tonight. You were thanking your lucky stars. After seeing how red his ears turned when he opened the supply closet on you both, you don’t think either you or Jin could have survived a shift with all three of you there at once.

As your luck would have it though, you and Hoseok have arrived at the same time, and before the resident. So now you are both here alone. Together.

He’s standing off to your left, reviewing charts assigned to you both on the mobile computer station. “So, how was your week without me? I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Hoseok teases. You stiffen in response, avoiding eye contact. Were you supposed to pretend like you hadn’t been caught in a supply closet together in a very implicated position a week ago? Suddenly the floor tiling pattern seems so much more interesting than it did the last time you were in this part of the ER.

Hoseok frowns. “Hey, is everythi-”

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You startle, turning around to see who is calling you and have to physically stop your jaw from dropping open. Yet another incredibly handsome man in scrubs has appeared in front of you, trying to read your work badge to confirm your identity. Is it a requirement to be unbelievably attractive to work at this hospital?

Oh! This must be the resident Seokjin told you about!

“Yes, that’s me! And you must be Dr. Jeon?”

He laughs. “Please, call me Jungkook! I look forward to working with you,” he smiles and offers his hand. You shake it eagerly, noting the intricate tattoos adorning his arm. You hope you will be half as cool as him when you’re a resident. “Dr. Min had an emergent situation come up in trauma but he told me to handle admissions on our own for now.”

He turns his attention to the person behind you. “Hey man, it’s been a while since we worked shift together. How have you been Hoseok?”

“It’s been all right, it’s good to see you too,” Hoseok greets him, and you chance looking over in his direction. He grins at you and winks, and you feel your cheeks warm. Suddenly the floor pattern is of top interest again. “I think you’re going to enjoy working with Y/N, she always keeps me on my toes.”

Jungkook sent you in on the first case of the day alone. He said that he wanted to see how you perform so that he can better give you tips and pointers on how to improve, and that you can see the rest of patients that day together after he has an idea of what he’s working with. Hoseok is scribing for you, the mobile computer pulled over to the side of the room by the door while you work up your patient.

You list off whatever you’ve covered so far. You know you got HPI, social history, family history, past medical conditions, medications, and review of systems when you were taking the history. You performed the cardiology exam, pulmonary exam, abdominal exam (which you will never forget again), but nothing else seems to come to mind.

Still, you run through your mental list again in your mind to be sure. It was important to you to nail the first patient presentation of the shift. Making a good impression on the new resident was critical, especially seeing how it took days before the last attending had full faith in you again.

You turn to Hoseok out of habit to ask him. Before you can open your mouth, he turns and raises his eyebrows at you, staring back blankly. “Yes?”

You are taken aback, but press onwards. Surely he’ll be professional in front of a patient. “I just wanted to double-check with you if there’s anything you think might be pertinent that I might have overlooked?”

He raises his brow again, then turns back to type away at the computer. “I think you’ve made it clear you’re plenty capable of handling things without my help, don’t you think?”

Though he isn’t facing you anymore, you can hear the smirk in his voice. You turn away from him, annoyed. You were completely on your own for this one. You smile at the patient, who is wincing from pain and probably wants you out of his room as soon as possible. “I think I’ve asked and examined everything I need to at this time, sir! We will be back with the doctor shortly, and I’ll see if we can do something to manage your pain in the meantime.”

The three of you decide to set up shop at a computer station embedded into the emergency department hallways, just outside of the infamous conference room where you last made a fool of yourself in front of the attending and Seokjin. Hoseok is scribing off to the side, waiting for you to dictate your findings. He turns in your direction waiting for you to begin, and you nearly snap your neck trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“Okay, Y/N, ready when you are,” Jungkook says, smiling at you encouragingly.

You take a deep breath. “Our patient is a 55 year old male presenting with epigastric pain that radiates to his back. The pain began earlier this afternoon and was not relieved from taking Tylenol. He rates his pain as a 9 out of 10 in severity, constant and dull in quality, and the pain is relieved only from lying completely still.” Jungkook hums in agreement, scanning the chart while you present. You scan your mind for what else was most relevant from your discussion with the patient. “Social history is significant for alcohol use for the past 35 years, he says he drinks around 2-3 beers every evening. Family history was insignificant. Pertinent positives from review of systems include severe nausea and vomiting accompanying onset of pain earlier today.”

“Okay,” Jungkook muses. “That was a really thorough history, nice work. What about the physical exam?”

“Vitals showed a fever of 101.6°F, tachycardic at 110 BPM, and hypotensive at 110/70. On abdominal exam the patient had decreased bowel sounds and exhibited tenderness and guarding upon palpation of the upper quadrants, especially. Cardiac exam was regular rate and rhythm, no murmurs or rubs, and lungs were clear to auscultation bilaterally.”

Jungkook nods approvingly. “Very good! You’re a natural,” he remarks. “I liked how you organized info, and didn’t just word-dump everything or forget critical components. How long have you been in the ER?”

“This is my second week.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Only week 2 and you already have your own style and prioritization put together? I’m impressed.” You beam from the approval, not noticing how Hoseok’s usually cheery disposition has been replaced by a sulk as he watches the resident praise your presentation skills.

“So,” Jungkook finishes going over the chart and turns to face you directly. You can’t help but feel a little nervous despite his praise, especially when all of his attention is on you. “What’s your differential?”

“Well,” you start a little nervously, “top of my list is definitely acute pancreatitis, especially since epigastric pain radiating to the back is textbook for that condition, along with heavy alcohol use and nausea & vomiting. But,” you add quickly, remembering how Seokjin advised you to not latch on to one diagnosis when examining a patient, “it could also be… acute peritonitis! Or a neoplasm!”

Jungkook laughs. “I appreciate you offering multiple differentials, that’s always good to get in the habit of thinking that way. Though it sounds to me like your original was pretty spot-on.” You smile again and Hoseok mopes a little more as he types away at the computer.

“Actually, do you want to know a tip on how to confirm acute pancreatitis while you’re still doing the exam?” “Of course! That would be great, if you don’t mind,” you answer excitedly.

He grins in response, getting up from his stool and motioning for you to sit down in his place. You do so, a little confused, and he comes around to stand beside you. You realize that he’s going to show you how to do the trick on you. Oh. “All you have to do is sit the patient upright like this,” he places his hands on your shoulders, “and bend them forward like this,” he gently pushes you over until you’re hunched over at a 45° angle. “The pain should be so much better because the pancreas won’t be stretched out as much!”

You know it’s strictly clinical, but you can’t help but blush at the close proximity and the feel of his hands on you. Right at that moment, you happen to look up and meet eyes with Hoseok. He turns away abruptly and you barely see it but his expression... was that… jealousy?

“See? It’s super easy!” He pulls you back up to a normal sitting position. “Sometimes those patients will even be in a fetal position because it does the same trick while they’re laying down. Neat, huh?” You nod eagerly. “Now go check in on your patient and see if that maneuver helps confirm your diagnosis or not.”

“Thank you so much, that’s so helpful! You’re the best, Jungkook, what would I do without you?” you gush, touching his arm lightly as you get up to leave. Maybe you’re overdoing it a little, acting too exaggeratedly. But it’s worth it to see Hoseok’s jaw set in annoyance as he keeps typing away at the computer.

Jungkook is taken aback slightly, but smiles and nods in response. “Of course, it’s no problem! Now let’s go check on your patient together and see what a good assessment and plan would be for him.”

The rest of the shift flys by, to your surprise, and before you know it’s already time to clock out. You’re finishing up the last of your notes at one of the computer stations when you see Jungkook approaching. Usually Jin says his goodbyes and leaves you for the last hour so he can finish up loose ends. Was he coming over because you messed up something? Did you forget the write-up for room 4? Or sign off on room 8’s chart incorrectly? Or bring someone apple juice instead of orange?

“Hey,” he interrupts your panicked mental checklist, “I wanted to say thank you for making my shift a little bit easier and a little bit more fun,” he says, smiling warmly. “Some of the other staff were talking about going out for drinks later if you wanted to join?”

You’re a little dumbfounded from the offer. The cool resident wanted to hang out with you? You must be taking too long to reply, because Jungkook starts offering more details unprompted. “No pressure of course,” he adds. “The other residents were inviting some students so I thought I’d ask, not to overstep any boundaries or anything,” he continues a little nervously, “and I had asked a few of the other nurses like Hoseok to come too -”

Hoseok was going?

“But seriously you don’t have t-”

“I’d love to come! It’s so sweet of you to invite me,” you respond suddenly, taking both of you by surprise. “I’ll uh, get your number from Seokjin, let me know what time and where. I look forward to it!” You swipe your badge and log out, done with your notes, leaving Jungkook behind in his confusion.

Jungkook had texted you the location and meet-up details right as you were leaving your house, having taken a quick nap and freshened up after your shift before heading out again for the night. As you enter, you spot Jungkook sitting in a booth with a few of the other ER staff. You spot some other familiar faces, like the two radiology techs always glued at the hip, and of course Hoseok. You involuntarily suck in your breath. His crisp, white button-down under a leather jacket paired with ripped black jeans is so simple, yet still puts his scrubs to shame. He looks up from his conversation with one of the radiology techs (was that one Jimin, or was it Taehyung, you can’t remember), as if he felt you staring, but Jungkook gets up before either of you can react.  

“Hey! You made it, Y/N,” he greets you excitedly. “Here, let’s sit over at the bar for a bit.” Not with everyone else? Not with Hoseok? “Thank you so much for coming, it’s good to see you.” He pulls the barstool back and gestures for you to sit down, in very chivalrous fashion.

“No, thank you! I forgot I haven’t been to this bar since before board exams, and I missed it so much,” you sigh. Many drunken birthday and post-exam celebrations were made here during your first two years of medical school. “I think I deserve a drink for what this rotation has put me through already,” you tease.

He laughs in response. “I think that’s only fair. What would you like?”

Wait he’s actually buying you a drink? You were just joking! “Oh no,” you protest, “that’s okay! You don’t have to do that!”

He laughs again sweetly. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to! Think of it as my treat for the fun I had thanks to you today.” He gets the bartender’s attention. “This place has the best green tea shots, would that be okay with you?”

You nod your consent a little tentatively, and Jungkook proceeds with his order. The last time you had green tea shots here was after your gross anatomy final. To this day, neither you nor Namjoon can remember what happened that night. You do know that you woke up with a tray of fries in your bed the next morning, so it must have been a good time either way.

“All right, here you are!” Jungkook passes you your shot glass. “To a great shift, and many more together!” He lifts the drink in cheers, clinking glasses with you.

Right as you are about to tip the drink back, you make eye contact with Hoseok over Jungkook’s shoulder. His eyes are steely and he looks like he is fuming inside. If Hoseok was jealous of you getting clinical skill tips from Jungkook, you can only imagine how riled up he must be from seeing him buy you a drink. You shouldn’t be excited, but you can’t help but feel a thrill run down your back by seeing him react like this.

You tip the drink down your throat, keeping your eyes locked with Hoseok the entire time. The burn from the alcohol feels good and the shot is sweet, but seeing his jaw clench in anger is even more delicious. Last time he got to be so bold with you, it was only fair for you to reciprocate, wasn’t it? “Here, Jungkook,” you turn to the resident, “how about another round? This one’s on me.”

Hoseok has had it.

It’s already been hard enough faking paying attention to whatever Jimin and Taehyung have been going on and on in some passionate discussion all night before you made your entrance. Something about a video game about animals? That cross over horizons? He couldn’t guess if he tried. But ever since you had arrived, he couldn’t stop glancing over to your and Jungkook’s silhouettes every few moments.

It also didn’t help that you had shared round after round of shots with Jungkook. Giggling away at whatever jokes he had been making, resting your hand on his bicep, fluttering your lashes at him. And still had the audacity to look over at Hoseok and bite your lip every once in a while. He was infuriated. You had been too meek and timid to talk normally when you were at work, to the point that he was worried he had upset you or made you uncomfortable. He didn’t even get a chance to check in with you and clear things up. But you suddenly had the nerve to send him suggestive stares while another man was buying you drinks?

He needed to clear his head.

He gets up and excuses himself for the restroom, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone to fervently argue over the turnip economy crashing and Tom Nook’s capitalist ways. He enters the single stall bathroom, turning the faucet on to splash his face with cold water. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, dude, he thinks to himself. He would have to get your attention later, when you were sober, and finally talk things out. Maybe the next time you were on shift you would let him. He just had to prepare himself to get through whatever show you were trying to put on tonight.

He grabs the handle, takes a deep breath in, and turns it to come face to face with you, letting out a little “oh!” sound of surprise. He takes in your doe-eyed appearance and stops dead in his tracks.

He had thought you were pretty when you were running on 6 hours of sleep (on a good day) in your ratty hospital scrubs, hair tied up and errant loose strands strewn about your face, coffee in hand as you ran from end to end of the emergency department. But this blew that out of the water. The red jumpsuit you had picked had a tasteful level of cleavage, just the right mix of sexy but still classy enough to wear in front of professional colleagues. That combined with a red-stain pout, long lashes, and your black peep toe heels, he feels a little bit breathless as he drinks you in.

Actively ignoring how his heart skips a beat, he stops checking you out and instead steels himself to question you on why you are a) unwilling to talk to him, yet b) trying to eye fuck him AND the resident at the same time, and c) following him into the bathroom.

“What,” he starts firmly, “are you trying t-”

“I’m sorry!”

He’s startled from your sudden outburst. “What?”

“I just wanted to say I’m really really really sorry for lying about and saying that you were the one who messed things up when it was really me who messed things up,” you ramble. “And I made you look bad and you’re not bad, you’re always good to everyone! You’re always good to me!”

Hoseok can’t help but to chuckle, confusion coloring his laugh. “What are you talking about?”

You sway on your feet and stumble a bit forward towards him. He catches you, restoring your balance and holding you steady by the shoulders gently. It is very apparent that you are drunk, likely the drunkest you have been in a long time, but you don’t let that deter you. “The really bad day! Where I messed up the physical exam and said it was your fault!”

Oh. He is taken aback; he had no idea that you were carrying around so much guilt over this. Was that why you had been avoiding talking to him at the hospital? “Well,” he begins, “would it make you feel better to know that your apology is accepted?” You contemplate his words, humming to yourself, then nod. He smiles. “Okay good, because I really don’t mind that much. I didn’t know you were that upset about it though,” he adds.

“Well, I have been,” you huff. He bites his lip to keep a laugh from escaping. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you for foreverrrrrrr but I didn’t get a chance!” You close your eyes, buzzing with contentment, a weight lifted off of your chest. He smiles for a split second at your reaction, until you suddenly open them again to eye him suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute,” you exclaim, gears turning in your mind. “I didn’t get a chance because someone,” you poke him in the chest with your finger to emphasize your point, “decided to force me into a closet,” you poke him again, “and make me all hot and bothered instead of listening! So really,” another jab to the chest, “it’s your fault that I’m feeling guilty!”

“Hey, easy now!” Hoseok grabs your finger before you can poke him again. You pout at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp to no avail. It makes his heart melt, just a little. He pulls you in closer with the finger he’s holding, smirking at your surprised expression.  “If I remember correctly…,” he leans in to whisper in your ear, hearing your breath hitch, “I don’t think you had many complaints, did you?”

a/n: long time, no see, i know! i got caught up with school and studying this year but quarantine has my creative juices flowing again, so i’m planning on finishing this series soon (fingers crossed!!). thank you so much for reading,  i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! <3 

[yikestripes]

Same old

A/N: Here you go anon!!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Pairing: Bill x Reader

Request: May I request a fic with Bill Denbrough x reader that has Bill saving the reader from her worst fear that Pennywise is putting her through? (which can be something related to bullying or some sort of phobia). And I do think it’s more fitting as adults considering what happened in the second movie, but it’s also fine if they’re written younger—

(Y/D/J) = Your dream job

You swallowed hard, pulling up outside of the Chinese restaurant Mike had picked. You weren’t particularly prepared for the potential horrors waiting for you inside; you felt anxious as hell, being reunited with the people you’d called friends your entire childhood with barely any recollection of their names or virtually anything about them. As a matter of fact, you hardly remembered anything Mike had brought up during your brief phone call the night before about your childhood. You never had any reason to bring it up in conversation, or think about it for any other reason, so why would you remember? But then again, how could you forget? Isn’t that someone everyone does, forget? Especially when they grow up and move away? Apparently not.

You shook away the negative thoughts that swirled around your aching brain, and got out of your car as another car pulled into the parking lot. You paid no mind to the other car, too distracted by the restaurant looming overhead and what awaited you inside, when someone calling you from behind brought you back.

“(Y/N)?” You turned at the sound of your name being called by a distinctly deep, male voice, and were met with a man around your age squinting at you behind his glasses, seemingly confused. You stared for a second before it clicked; Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier stood before you, hands tucked sheepishly into his leather jacket, with his hair wild from running his fingers through it moments before.

“Oh my GOD! Richie!” You felt yourself running at him and attack him in a hug. He didn’t move at first, still slightly taken aback by having seen someone he hadn’t seen in 27 years look so painfully familiar but like a beautiful stranger. He moved to hug back but you’d already stepped back to get a better look at him.

“You look great, Trashmouth! What the hell!” You laughed and Richie’s awkwardness eased up as he smiled a bit.

“Look at you, you look gorgeous! What the fuck happened to me?” He glanced at his reflection in the glass of the window and shook his head a bit.

“Oh stop. When did you get in?” You asked, stuffing your own hands in your pockets, quickly becoming re-acquainted with the chilly air of Maine.

“Last night. You?”

“Earlier this afternoon. Have… have you seen anyone yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“Not yet. Wanna go in?”

“Not at all.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” You took your hands out of your pocket with a deep breath to calm your racing heart, and ripped the door open as Richie followed behind you.

The restaurant seemed nice and was brightly lit, which helped to relax you a little bit.

That might make it easier to recognize everyone.

The hostess led you and Rich to a private room aside from the main dining room, where 3 grown men near the fish tank, becoming readjusted to each other once again.

“Wow, take a look at these guys!” The shorter man in the red jacket said, attempting to relieve some of the tangible awkwardness.

You pressed your lips together as you made eye contact with the taller man, who seemed to be familiar in a different way than the others. His muscles contracted as he crossed his arms over his chest, his silver watch winking at you in the light. His blue eyes were bright, and full of hazy memory.

“Look at her TREMBLE girls! She’ll be a laughing stock by the end of the day!” Gretta Keene was cackling as you shook like a teapot, your back so far against the lockers that the locks were pressing into your back. You had no idea why Gretta was so terrifying, but she just was. There were no limits with her torment, and that certainly didn’t exclude you. She’d thrown wet trash on you, poured paint in your backpack in art class, and hid your clothes after gym class. She made you miserable at any opportunity, purely because she knew it bothered you; plus you were an easy target, you had no one to protect you. She had all the power. Especially since she found your sketchbook, filled with embarrassing drawings of one Bill Denbrough.

“Oh s-shut up, G-gretta.” The all-too-familiar lanky boy stepped out from behind Gretta, meekly followed by a few other boys you’d recognized from your classes through the years, who were always with Bill. Gretta whipped her ponytail around to look at who’d interrupted her fun, allowing you to sneak a bit closer to the boys.

“Aw would you look who it is, Stuttering Bill Denbrough! Coming to protect your little girlfriend, huh?” Bill’s blue eyes hardened, ignoring Gretta’s comment.

“Just leave her alone, she never did anything to you.” Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

“O-or I'll r-r-remind the w-wh-whole school a-about how R-Ri-Richie p-p-pulled up your skirt d-during the cl-class play i-in 4th grade.” Bill smirked as Gretta’s face turned a shade of pink.

Richie snickered as he adjusted his glasses, clearly still amused by the memory. Eddie glared at him and Richie shrugged.

“You win this round, Denbrough,” Gretta glared at him, clearly trying but failing to intimidate him. “Next time, Stuttering Bill won’t be around to save your ass, you little slut.” Gretta lunged at you and you slammed back into the lockers, trying to hide your wince after hitting a lock particularly hard.

She sashayed away as you recovered, rubbing the lower part of your back.

“Thank you.” You whispered to Bill, casting your eyes down. You were extremely shy, especially after Gretta’s torment had begun. You looked back up and Bill smiled kindly at you, extending his hand to help you up.

“I-I’m Bill D-D-Denbrough,” You shook his hand with a shy grin. “I-I know w-we’ve had c-cl-classes together f-for a few y-y-years, b-but I d-don’t thi-think we’ve e-ever spoken.”

“I’m (Y/N).” Bill nodded.

“I’m Richie!”

“Edward Kaspbrak, but you can call me Eddie.” “Call him Eddie Spaghetti, he LOVES that!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Alright Eds, have it your way.”

“I hate Eds too! It’s Eddie!”

“Calm yourself, Eduardo.”

“RICHIE!” Richie snickered again as Eddie crossed his arms, huffing in frustration.

“I”m Stanley, Stanley Uris.”

“Oh, yes! We have math together.” You smiled at the curly-haired boy. He sat behind you at math, always answering the teacher’s questions.

“Bill?” You whispered, frowning slightly. Bill broke out into a grin and approached you slowly, memories streaming back.

“(Y/N).” He said almost breathlessly, pulling you into a tight hug. Your knees almost buckled beneath you at his familiar scent and feeling of him holding you so close and so tight.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long, I just, I can’t believe it…” You trailed off, an eruption of memories causing your previous headache to return. You grimaced slightly, and shook it away, not allowing something so silly to ruin your evening.

“I know. It’s been what, 18 years? 17? Right after college, I believe, is when we last saw each other.” Bill took a step back, suddenly feeling like he was back in high school with the way his emotions were running so rampant.

“Something like that. How have you been?? What’s been going on? What do you do?” You became readjusted quickly, the other Loser’s looking on with a familiar feeling, as if they’d seen the same sort of interactions between the two of you. As a matter of fact, they had. When you were all much, much younger, and a lot more unable to speak your feelings.

You and Bill caught up very quickly as you awaited the other’s arrivals, one by one. You learned he followed his heart and became a writer, and you’d actually read a few of his books! Contrary to popular belief, you thought his endings were not that bad. He’d been married for a few years, but it never quite worked out, so they ended up divorcing on civil terms. He found out you hadn’t married; never quite finding the right person. Little did you know, the right one had been only a few hours away, subconsciously writing your personality into book characters. You’d become (Y/D/J), traveling the world like you’d always wanted to, and settling down in a place that was the complete opposite of Derry. Not that you’d remembered what it was like in Derry, but once you returned, you shuddered at how much the place had affected you.

You left the Chinese restaurant feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders, weighing down on you like never before. Between finding out about why Stanley hadn’t been at dinner, the fortune cookie massacre, and your feelings for Bill all coming rushing back at once, there was almost nothing keeping you from leaving. Almost.

“I-I’m gonna go w-w-with Mikey to the library, you o-okay to get back by yourself?” Bill asked, mentally cursing for allowing his stutter to rear its head.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m probably gonna go to bed and mull things over.” You rubbed your hand up and down his arm, watching as he untensed a little bit. Your touch was always enough to relax Bill, especially back in the days after the first battle.

You slept over his house pretty often, sneaking in and out of his window on the days you were afraid his parents would think you were spending too much time there. Half the time when you would wake up in the middle of the night by yourself, usually after a Gretta or Pennywise induced nightmare, and sneak over to Bill’s and climb into bed with him; your safe space. He would crack an eye open, smile, and open his arms to you. You climbed in and wiggled up next to him as he held you close, a smile gracing both of your faces.

“I’ll see you back there, then.” He smiled at you and his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment, before joining Mike in his car. You made it back to the motel without incident, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, you woke up and found yourself shivering for the first time in years; and you knew it wasn’t because of any sort of draft. Along with the horrid memories that poisoned your childhood, the ones that remained untouched by the horrors you experienced also recurred. It was almost as if you were reverting to the person you were while living in Derry, complete with your need for Bill Denbrough to protect you.

“It’s only going to work if we split up,” Mike said, glancing at each Loser.

“No way, statistically speaking we’re much better off if we remain together as a group!” Eddie said, nervousness lacing his already edgy voice.

“W-we can’t. You w-won’t b-be able to find y-your tokens, it’s a sort o-of… personal journey. E-each of us h-has to par-partake.” Bill said, clapping a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

You shrugged and started climbing the ladder, squinting in the filtered light of the Barrens as you walked forward, feeling propelled by some unknown force. Just as Mike had advised, you all split up. You’d crossed paths with Bill a bit later in the day, who looked extraordinarily pale. Assuming he’d already grabbed his token by the look on his face, you just pulled him into a hug.

You pulled away with a smile, quickly realizing your mistake. A mangled sort of Gretta Bowie stood in front of you, hair matted and her typical blue eyeshadow was replaced by something red and gooey, assumably blood.

“Did you miss me, freak?” A voice that was only partially human seemed to be coming from Gretta, even though her mouth didn’t move.

You stood in frozen horror, mouth agape.

“I missed you, I thought you’d never come back to talk with me.” The creature that resembled your former tormenter remarked. “No one ever wants to talk with me.” The creature flipped its matted hair. “Look at you TREMBLE! The whole school is gonna know about your pathetic little crush on Bill Denbrough, the boy with the stutter. You know he never loved you, right? He thought you were a freak, like the rest of us. Just a quiet, little freak. He only pretended to like you, because he’s such a nice guy. Look at you now! All grown up and the same little crush on Big stuttering Bill Denbrough!” Gretta cackled in the most sickeningly familiar way, and you dropped to your knees in tears.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s real.

You felt like you were going to throw up, all the anxiety and shame rushing back at you all at once.

Bill had crossed the street near his old neighborhood, still slightly unnerved by his encounter with Pennywise. Subconsciously, he had been hoping to run into you on the hunt for your token, looking for some sort of excuse to see you. He hated the idea of the whole group splitting up, despite the visions Mike had forced him to see the previous night. He knew it was the only way but the reality of the situation sat heavy like a rock in his stomach; he couldn’t stand the idea of losing another loved one to the goddamn clown that had been terrorizing him since he was just 13 years old.

An ear piercing scream rang out suddenly, breaking Bill from his thoughts. A very familiar scream.

“(Y/N)!” Bill whipped around wildly, looking for some sort of direction to go in. Another scream rang out and he followed the sound to Jackson Street, where he found you on your hands and knees, screaming unintelligible words. It was almost as if you were screaming at someone, not just something.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled again. You hadn’t heard him, and just kept on screaming your head off. Suddenly you stopped, and curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. You were clutching something to your chest that Bill couldn’t quite see as he tried to ease you into sitting up.

“H-hey, it’s okay. It’s me.” You looked up at him, your face completely tear stained with mascara running down your cheeks. Bill’s heart clenched a little bit.

“What h-h-happened?” You jumped into his arms, and began sobbing all over again. “Shhh, it’s o-over now. T-the clown c-c-can’t hurt you any-anymore.” He whispered into your hair, trying to get you to relax a little bit. Your heavy breathing eased as your breaths became more even, and you sat back on your heels.

“It was Gretta.” You said, your throat feeling raw from screaming. “She was telling me all these horrible things, and I-I just lost it.” You hugged the book tight to your chest.

“Well,” Bill’s eyes darted from the book to you. “At least you got your artifact.” He smiled his same old smile, making you feel a little bit warm inside. That smile could make anything seem a little bit brighter.

[jungshookz]

*kicks open door* kiNDERGARTEN TEACHER!TAEHYUNG THAT HAS A FAT CRUSH ON THE HOT SINGLE MOM HE SEES WHEN SHE COMES TO PICK UP HER CUTEASS KID

→ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

→ genre: kindergartenteacher!taeHYUNG aka THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF like i don’t think i’ve ever felt so SOFT in my entire life great googly moogly please prepare yourselves 

→ wordcount: 3.3k

(gif isn’t mine!)

“shit shit shit shIt shit” you curse to yourself as you vEEr right into the first parking spot you see

you immediately crank the brake and unbuckle your seatbelt

“i was going to park there, asshole!” you hop out of the car to see an angry looking mother glaring at you from her minivan and you give her a sheepish smile

“i’m sorry!!!! my kid just got off from class and i can’t be late because i need to drive her to ballet and-“ you’re definitely oversharing with this stranger and she obviously doesn’t care because she rolls her eyes and flips you off before zoOming off to find another parking spot

soccer moms are so aggressive

you double check that you have everything with you and you fish your parent lanyard out of your backpack and sling it around your neck quickly as you approach the front doors

you thought that once you became a mother you would instantly become more responsible more organised more matuRe

obviously you were mistAken because you’re still late to almost everything you go to

some things never change!!!!

you hurry your way down the hallway and pick up the pace when you see the swarm of parents standing outside the classroom

as you approach the crowd you get up on your tip-toes to see if emma’s been excused yet

you accidentally bump into a couple and a bit of your coffee splashes onto their shoulders and they turn around and give you a dirty look

“oh, sorry!!!! ….fridays, am i right?” you joke and they both scowl before shuffling to stand somewhere else

oof

tough crowd

none of the parents here like u that much

which is a real shame because you think you make greAt company

you’re just,.,, there’s a big age gap between u and most of the parents here

you’re one of the younger parents in the class

actually you might be the youngest

min yoongi and his wife (you forgot her name whoOps) are pretty young but they’re still a couple years older than you

and side note their daughter is adoraBle

emma is actually friends with hwayoung so you talk to yoongi sometimes

it’s nice to talk to someone who’s around your age

he’s just veRy businessman-y so it’s difficult to joke around with him

but he’s still a nice guy!!

speaking of yoongi and hwayoung

a bright smile makes its way onto your face when you see yoongi nudging hwayoung through the crowd of people before grabbing onto her small hand

“yoongi!” yoongi looks up and he smiles politely

he’s still dressed all spic and span in his suit from work

“ah! good afternoon, y/n. hwayoung, say good afternoon to auntie.” he hums before bending down to zip up her backpack that’s just wiDe open

relatable

“good afternoon, auntie!!” she looks up at you with bright eyes

she’s sO CuTE

“hi, hwayoung-ie!” you bend down and pinch her cheek before reaching into the pocket of your coat and fishing out a little caramel “don’t tell your dad,” you joke and yoongi snorts in response

“thank u!!!!!” she snaTches it immediately and you coo before pinching her cheek again

you get back up onto your feet “you guys on your way home now?”

“mhm. is emma still available for a playdate this sunday?” yoongi swoops hwayoung off her feet and props her up onto his hip and she immediately rests her head against his shoulder

“affirmative, sir.” you salute and yoongi rolls his eyes playfully “i-“

“emma y/l/n?” you perk up when you hear emma’s name being called

“yeah, we’ll see you sunday! have a nice night!” you turn to squeeze your way into the crowd and once you make your way to the front your heart immediately starts going boom-boom because

it’s taehyung

emma’s teacher

kim taehyung is uh

whOo

putting it simply he is a very attractive man and he’s only a couple months older than you so like you’re preTTY sure this is god’s way of telling you it’s meant to be

the only time you’ve really talk to him is during the parent-teacher conference and even theN you can barely get a word in because emma’s a little chatterbox (one time she almost let it slip that ‘mommy dressed extra pretty for you!’ and you were literally about to pounce on your child in the middle of a classroom)

he’s really sweet n nice and when he smiles that boxY grin you can’t help but smile aNd he’s endearingly dorky and super charming aND funny and he’s so good with the kids and OH my god his voice is like..,., silky smooth dark chocolate.,,.,. rich caramel.,, that u want to driZZLE all over your BODY

okay no R-rated thoughts when there are children present don’t be weird

since he’s your kid’s teacher so you’re not sure if that’s even allowed

the whole parents dating teachers thing

anyways

he looks so soft today

he’s wearing a crisp button up with a pair of jeans

he obviously let the kids mess with his hair because he has a little sproUT in his hair

and you’re pretty sure you have a glasses kink because you’ve never felt this way when seeing someone with their glasses sitting on the top of their head

“hi, yeah, that’s me- i mean, that’s not me, but that’s my child- you know what i mean” you blow a strand of hair away from your face before adjusting your backpack with a sheepish grin

woW what the hell was that lol  

taehyung presses his lips together to keep himself from bursting into chuckles

you’re so awkward sometimes but he supposes that’s just part of your charm

he wants to tell you you look real cute in your periwinkle sweater

and it’s endearing how the laces on your converse shoes are undone

no doubt from your frantic running down the hallway (he notices everything)

but of course he has to keep it professional because you are the parent of one of his students it doesn’t matTer that you’re the same age as him and that he’s very very very veRY attracted to you

“hi miss y/l/n.” taehyung smiles kindly before ticking next to your name on the clipboard “emma’ll be ready in a minute! we did finger-painting today so the kids are taking a little longer to wash up. how was your day?” he suddenly remembers the little ponYTAIL in his hair and he yanks the hair tie off quickly

“oh, y’know, the usual. i don’t know why i thought it’d be a good idea to keep studying after four whole years of studying.” you snort before pulling your own hair tie from your ponytail and letting your hair down

“i admire that! education is important.” taehyung hums

your hair looks so soft

it probably smells good too

o god he’s being creepy stop being creepy

“i suppose you’re right. what else happened…uh… had a really good caramel macchiato and a mediocre turkey sandwich for lunch-“  

“mommy!” you snap out of your little trance when emma suddenly ziPs out of the classroom

her little backpack bounces against her back

“hi baby!” you grin and swoOp down to scoop her up into your arms

you smoosh kisses against her chubby cheek while she giggles away before you plop her back down onto the ground

it takes everything within taehyung not to mELT into the ground because even tho he sees you do that basically every day it never fails to turn him into a pile of mush IT’S SO CUTE

“we finger-painted today!” she cheers and holds her paper up for you to look at

“yeah, mr kim was just telling me-“

“that’s me, n that’s you, n that’s mr. kim!” she grins and points to the third figure in the painting and almost immediately bOTH yours and tae’s faces go bright red

you think you might actually be on fire right now (even tho this isn’t the first time this has hAPPENeD) ((ur referring to the time the class made play-doh people and emma made one of you and one of tae and the play-doh versions of you two are holding hands))

“oh! that’s, heh, uh, that’s nice! that’s so good, you did a good job, baby” you clear your throat and your eyes flicker over to taehyung

he tilts his head and offers you a meek smile

“will you put it up on the fridge when we go home?” she asks as you tuck it into her backpack for her before ziPping her bag up

“mhm…” you get back up onto your feet and dust your knees off “say g’bye to mr. kim”

“bye mr. kim!” emma turns around and hugs his legs

her face is like on the same level as his knees so he’s basically kneeing her and are u an awful mother if you kinda laughed at that

“goodbye, sweetheart!” he replies with the same level of enthusiasm as he gets down onto his knees so that he can give her a proper hug and she gives him a sweet lil kiss on the cheek “have a nice weekend, hm?” his eyes flicker up to you and you feel your heart skip a beat 

emma pulls away from him and skips over to you 

“oh, and don’t forget to tie your laces, emma.” taehyung hums as he gets back up onto his feet 

you look down because you remember putting emma in slip-on converse this morning not- 

“he means you, mama.” emma not-so-subtly whispers and you look down at your undone laces before looking back up at taehyung who’s looking very amused at the moment 

there it is again 

that fuzzy feeling in your stuPid heart 

u know what you have to get over it because it’s never going to happen 

you’re an adult 

you can get over it fine 

you’ll be finE 

this is just a silly little crush

“how do you feel about spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner?” you clutch emma’s little hand in yours as you guys make your way down the empty hallway

“yummy! with extra cheese?”

“it wouldn’t be as yummy without the extra cheese… but we obviously have to go to our usual place to get a hot chocolate first…” you’re rambling on and on about hot chocolate but emma isn’t really paying attention

because she has concocted a sneaky plan in that tiny brain of hers

she knows you like mr. kim

and she’s positive mr. kim likes you back

you always get so red around him

and he always gets so red around you

and red is the colour of love

which means that you must love mr. kim and mr. kim must love you

and she’s been trying her hardest to try and get you guys to hold hands or touch butts or whatever it is grown-ups do to prove they love each other

but each time she does something she’s never successful!!!

she tried to tell mr. kim about you dressing extra pretty for him but you smacked a hand over her mouth before she could get it out

she made a play-doh mommy and a play-doh mr. kim and presented them proudly to you and mr. kim and the both of you just laUGHED in hER FACE

do you people think she’s just a SIMPLE F O O L

and she has to admit the painting of you and her and mr. kim is probably one of her weaker moves but it’s better than nothing

and u know what

she just wants you to be happy

because she loves you a lot

and you’re a good mommy

and good mommies deserve to be happy

SO

this next part is all part of her evil plan and she’s positive that this time something will happen

all of her peers (including herself) have their own cubbies in the classroom

emma purposely left her snack box in there so that you’d have a reason to go back

AND she left a little note in there for you and (hopefully) mr. kim to read

emma is your child after all

meaning she’s a very verY clever girl

she just has to wait for the right time.,.,.

and the right time is noW

“mommy, my snack box is still in the classroom!!” emma stops in her tracks and you nod before pointing to the direction of the classroom

“go ahead, go get it”

“but i need to pee.” she squeezes her legs together and makes a face of discomfort “you need to get the snack box, mommy”

“i-“ you look back at the closed door of the classroom “mommy can wait for you to finish peeing and then you can go-“

“no, no, you need to go get it i need to pEE” the next thing you know she’s spRInting towards the washroom and you’re left standing in the middle of the hallway with question marks floating around your head

what in the hickory ham is going on

“gO GET MY SNACK BOX MOMMY” you hear her voice echo from the washroom

“alRIght alright” you snort before turning and heading back to the classroom

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous

you’re retrieving your daughter’s snack box from her super attractive teacher that you definitely have a crush on there’s nothing to be nervous about

hi tae! emma left the ol’ snack box up in here!

whaddup mr. kim! mind if i just pOP right in??

yo Yo yOOoo have u seen a purple box anywhere?? because it belongs to emma and i need it

o god

all of these options are terrible

you need more time to rehearse your lines-

you’re about to reach up to knock on the door when suddenly it swiNgs right open and you stumble back in surprise

“oh shit!” taehyung reaches out and grabs onto your waist before you can fall flat on your aSS and you let out a squeak

in the midst of your almost-fall you’d grabbed onto his bicep and now.,.., he has an arm…, wrapped around your waist.,., while you have one hand on his bicep and one hand curled around the nape of his neck.,,,..,.,

the two of you snap out of your respective trances when you hear a door open down the hallway and you immediately leT GO of each other

also tae was right ur hair does smell really nice

“hi. sorry about that! i was on my way to the washroom and i didn’t know you were outside…” he clears his throat and prays to god he’s not as red as a tomato right now

“no, no! it was my bad, i’m sorry.” you reach up and scratch the back of your neck “i, uh, emma said she left her snack box in here.” you breathe out

“oh, uh, come in! i’ll help you search for it. it’s probably in her cubby. she’s always leaving things in there.” taehyung falls back into his ‘mr. kim’ persona as he leads you towards the cubbies in the back “let’s see… emma… here~” he bends down and you follow suit

oh my go d he even smells good is this aLLOWed

you perk up when you spot emma’s box

“hey, you’re right! here it is-“ you reach in and grab the box but you’re surprise when you notice the piece of paper stuck to the back of it

it’s an A4 piece of paper with a little card stuck to it and a note written in crayon on it

you recognise the card

it’s the business card of that little cafe you take emma to every friday after school

the one that you’re supposed to take her to right noW

‘mommy’s faveriate drink is karomal makkiatoe and mr. kim’s faverieote drink is hot chalklate’

“huh.” both you and tae are kinda just staring at the note

the gears are click-click-clicking away in both your guys’ heads

and then it hits the both of you at the same time

oh.

oh.

taehyung isn’t typically a ballsy guy but like

he’s feeling vEry brave all of a sudden

“can i take you out sometime?” he blurts out and your eyes widen in surprise

oh

well

you certainly weren’t expecting that

the both of you get back up onto your feet and you tuck emma’s box into your backpack

your cheeks flare up and you let out a little chuckle before scratching the back of your neck “i… uh…”

“i mean, don’t feel pressured to say yes just because i’m emma’s teacher!” taehyung stammers “i just, y’know, i don’t want to overstep here but i think you’re a very beautiful woman and-“

“i would love to.” you clear your throat and take your bottom lip in between your teeth “yeah, i would love to. actually, uh- emma and i, we usually go to this cafe every friday - if you’re free right now, maybe you can come and join us?” you rub your slighTLy damp hands on the back of your jeans and taehyung immediately lightS up and nods quickly

“i would love that. yeah, just… just gimme a second to clean up real quick! i’ll meet you and emma outside?”

“great! yeah, totally. she’s just.. she’s peeing right now so i should probably go check and see that she hasn’t flushed herself down the toilet or anything” you joke as you make your way towards the door and tae splits off to head to his desk “i’ll see you outside!”

you shut the door behind you and you have to quickly press yourself against the wall and you nearly bite your bottom lip off to keep yourself from screaming

your heart is going a million miles an hour and there are butterflies just having a raVE in your stomach

as soon as you leave the room taehyung pumps a fiST into the air in victory because Y E S  HE DID IT

“did you find my box?” emma’s sitting outside the washroom as you approach her and you raise a brow before nodding

“mhm.” she gets up and grabs onto your hand before looking back at the classroom door

huh

did her plan not work

she knows she’s not supposed to say bad words but what the h*ck

she really thought her plan would work!!!!

“mr. kim’s joining us for hot chocolate today, by the way. hope you don’t mind.”  you add casually and a cheshire-cat grin takes over emma’s face

the whole time you and emma and tae are at the cafe emma can’t help but feel proud of herself

you and mr. kim are sitting very vEry close to each other in your booth chatting away while she sits opposite of you two quietly nibbling at a scone and taking small sips of her hot chocolate

S U C C E S S has never tasted so good

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Omg I just thought of something really cute for the anon that wanted parents!petermj : their son is starting kindergarten and peter dressed up as spiderman and spy on him to make sure he’s okay and mj gets Mad at him for not letting their son breathe

HI! once again!! an old prompt that has taken me a LONG ASS TIME to get out there, but I was on a roll and was I N S P I R E D !! I hope you enjoy this!!

Here’s about 1.7k of cute parent stuff bc I can’t NOT go overboard on writing

It was a day Peter had been dreading for some time now. A day he’d hoped would take just a little bit longer to come, that he’d have more time to prepare.

The first day of school.

Not his, of course.

It was Benjamin’s.

His very first day of kindergarten, to be exact. The beginning of his educational career; a long, twelve year journey; one that would hopefully guide him smoothly into the troubled world of adulthood. Monday through Friday, little Ben would be at school from about 8:40 AM to 3:00 PM, learning to read and write—though, he’d gotten a head start thanks to daycare and living with two walking brains—and hopefully take away some basic social skills from interacting with children his age. Sure, he’d had some of that experience, but those other kids were related to him. This was different.

It wasn’t like it was the first time Ben would be out of the apartment for long periods of time. MJ and Peter both had full-time jobs, so a high quality daycare was more than necessary.

But school… public school was another ball game altogether. And Peter couldn’t help the pit of dread that was swirling and sloshing in his stomach.

What if the other kids were mean to Ben? What if he had an allergic reaction to something?

(He didn’t have any allergies, doctor confirmed, but… you never know, anything was possible in kindergarten).

What if he tripped and fell on the playground during recess and broke his leg? What if all of Peter’s—Spider-Man’s enemies found out which school his kid went to and—

He didn’t want to finish that thought.

“You’re thinking way too much into this, Mother Hen,” MJ had said, grabbing her books and keys. “Don’t worry. Ben will be fine.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Peter, okay?” She turned, finally making steady eye contact, her gaze unwavering.

He looked down, pursing his lips. “I—… I’ll try….”

If only there was a way that Peter could check up on—

Wait.

Michelle’s eyes widened slightly. “No. No no no no no I know that look. That’s your ‘bad idea’ look. Don’t you dare follow him.”

God, she could read him so well.

He sputtered. “What are you talking about? I’m not gonna follow him?? Why would I— I cannot believe you would think that… that I would do anything like that?”

Quirking a brow at him, she sighs before rolling her eyes, shaking her head as a small half-smile pulled at her lips. “You better not.”

Okay, maybe he should have been more conscious about the non-use of contractions in that sentence.

Peter Parker was many things, but a good liar wasn’t one of them.

But he didn’t technically lie when he told her he wouldn’t follow him.

Because… it wasn’t technically following. Ben had to get to school somehow, and Peter just happened to be the parent that was dropping him off. He returned home promptly after!

Putting on the suit when he gets back is just part of his perfectly normal morning/mid-afternoon routine.

And Ben’s school just happens to be on one of the routes Peter likes to take.

It was all just pure coincidence.

Spider-Man was currently perched atop the school building, super suit and all, watching quietly as his five-year-old son played on the monkey bars with a few other kids.

Good; so he was making friends!

Nothing exciting was happening, not that Peter expected it. He was only there just in case something by chance, were to… well… happen.

It was all perfectly normal.

After all, what parent would pass up the chance to check on their kids if they could do what Peter could?

All was quiet on the playground front.

When the final recess bell sounded, Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He was almost in the clear, just about to leave when he saw the tiny little hand waving up at him from the swingset, Ben’s little voice shouting, “Hi Spider-Man!”

Obviously, Peter waved back, he wasn’t a monster, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was not necessarily all that great that he was spotted.

See, Ben didn’t really understand that his dad was the Spider-Man. In his mind, they were two separate entities.

No, he hadn’t realized yet that his father was also numbers three and four on his list of favorite people in the entire world; Spider-Man and Santa Claus.

(Of course, Mom—MJ, is number one; Dad—Peter, is number two. No contest.)

Now, there is a plan to eventually tell their son. After all, his dad being a crime fighting vigilante isn’t something a parent can just… stop doing when the kid turns eight or so, letting the belief just fizzle out. It’s something that will need to be addressed soon; just, maybe not when Ben is at the age where he’s telling everyone he meets all of their family secrets.

(Okay, maybe telling the kids at daycare that his granddad has diabetes wasn’t a Spider-Man level secret, but they couldn’t take any chances.)

Peter knows that this—this little spying stunt he’s pulled—could come up later, judging by how excited Ben got when he saw the familiar red and blue suit just chilling on the roof of his school.

At this point, he’s just hoping and praying that the kids do something more exciting in class that can draw all of the attention.

Luckily for Peter, the rest of the day flies by; he stops a few shoplifters here and there, making sure to grab some pictures for the Daily Bugle while he’s at it. He makes sure to swing by home before he picks Ben up, changing into normal civilian clothes before driving over.

“Daddy!” Ben, of course, rushes to wrap his tiny arms around his father’s knees, squeezing with all of his might.

Peter laughs, bending down the best way he can to hug his son back. “Hey, little dude! How was the first day?”

“Good!” he grins. “I drew a picture!” He pulls back, fumbling with his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper, nearly every color of crayon marked all over it.

But the blue and red is unmistakable.

“It’s Spider-Man!” The little boy says proudly, holding the picture out for his dad to take.

Peter, though he begins to panic only a little on the inside, smiles back. “Very cool.”

“Yeah! I saw him today!” The way Ben positively beams up at him, giving the literal sun a run for its money, pulls at Peter’s heartstrings. But the feeling dissolves, his eyes widening slightly, as soon as he realizes what will happen Ben shows his picture to MJ.

He helps Ben put the picture back in the little bag, lowering his voice to a comically whisper. “Hey, bud, let’s not show this to Mommy right when we get home, okay? Let’s surprise her!”

Peter figures he can just hide the picture for a few days before putting it on the fridge, all to avoid any suspicion. No big deal. Piece of cake.

What MJ doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Ben, of course being five and not realizing at all what is going on, nods enthusiastically as he takes his dad’s hand.

And for a while, Peter almost thinks he’s in the clear.

He’s so close.

It’s at the dinner table though, that his own son betrays him.

“I saw Daddy at school today!” Ben says through a mouthful of spaghetti.

MJ’s fork freezes before it reaches her mouth, her eyes moving to her husband in an instant. “Oh, really?” She asks slowly.

Peter stops, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as he feels MJ’s glare burning into him.

“Yeah,” Ben nods thoroughly. “He picked me up!”

And again, the tension leaves Peter’s body as he lets the breath he’d been holding in anticipation.

A gentle smile breaks across MJ’s features as she turns her attention back to the pasta on her plate.

Whew. That was close.

“And I saw Spider-Man at recess, too!”

Shit.

Well, Peter was certainly in for it tonight.

“I wanna say I’m surprised, but honestly,” MJ had thankfully waited until Ben’s bedtime to say anything, Though, while it was good for their son, Peter was filled with every anxiety known to man waiting for this conversation. “Yeah, honestly, I’m not.”

She doesn’t seem that mad, from what he can tell.

He thinks.

Then again, he’s kind of oblivious. Has been for a while, so he could be completely wrong.

“Are you on something?” she asks, finally facing him, a brow raised in question, stare calculating. “What could have possibly made you think that spying on him was a good idea?”

“I mean, it’s not technically spying—”

“Not technically spying?”

Peter falters, suddenly feeling very small. “Well, I mean—I was just… just watching him. From the roof. And—… well… he didn’t… know… I… was there…”

“Yeah, so… spying.”

He gulps. “When you put it that way… yeah…”

“Peter,” MJ groans, running a frustrated hand over her face. “We talked about this. Literally this morning.”

“I know, I know,” He sighs, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed. “I just… got so worried. I don’t know. I know that he’s safe and all… but… It’s just so fast and—”

Maybe it was the way he seemed to shrink after that, the genuine worry and concern in his tone, or the way his eyes seemed to do that whole puppy-dog thing they always did, but… okay, MJ wasn’t made of stone.

She lets out a breath, releasing tension as she sits herself next to him, bumping her shoulder to his. “Hey, I know it’s scary. Believe me, I’m scared, too. He’s growing up… But…”

Peter looks up at her. “But?”

“You have to let the kid breathe. Let him grow. He’s gotta have a couple of non-successes before he can… well, succeed. If that makes sense.”

His lips quirk up into a smile. “Non-successes? You mean failures?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be positive. Shut up.”

He playfully nudges her, sighing again. “No, I’m kidding. I get it. I need to back off. No more helicopter Spider-Dad.”

“Not saying you can’t help him at all… Just…” she starts again, looking him dead on. “Promise me you’ll be more chill about it. And less…” She pauses, eyeing him, carefully choosing her next word. “Creepy? Maybe try that?”

He laughs at that, nodding. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. I’ll give that a shot.”

The corner of her lip quirks upward into a half-smile. “Good,” she leans in, planting a sound kiss on his lips. “Because if I hear about Spider-Man spying on our son again, there will be hell to pay.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

[hirohamadugh]

THE ENHANCED

  Part 3! | Part 2

          Elliot had come and gone, recording Issac’s first temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and respiratory rate. Physically, he looked closer related to Chris than he did to either Hailey or Issac, but had jet black hair and a more burly body build. Food had been offered, and ultimately left in the room for Issac when he turned it down. He may have never eaten before, but he just didn’t have an appetite. Too much was going on; thoughts constantly swam and wrestled for the forefront of his attention, giving him a grueling headache and intense dizziness. It almost felt like his brain was trying to make up for the lost 20 years of activity it should’ve gotten before being as developed as it was.

           The brown haired boy fell onto his back against his bed, puffing out a heavy exhale as he covered his eyes. He crinkled his nose in a small grimace at the throbbing pain that threatened to burst out his temples, his mind working overtime in a desperate attempt to file away all this new knowledge and experience. “…So is life always this ouch, or just at the start?”

           You mean ‘painful’, Hailey kept to herself as she looked over at him with pity; she’d been trying not to stare or ask too many questions, figuring he might be wanting to sort things out on his own for now. As much as she loved all of the enhanced for being the only family she’d ever had, whenever Gabriel had hovered over her in the beginning it was very overwhelming. She already had him in her mind for what few of his memories she retained, so to have him all up in her business physically, too… it was just too much to handle sometimes. And that was merely from bits and pieces: Issac had way more memories than she ever did back then, so he must be feeling that a thousand times over. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, swinging her legs over the edge of her own bed to face him. “Too many thoughts?”

           “Way too many.” Issac took another hefty inhale, feeling his chest swell up as it filled with air before he forcefully expelled it again.

           “Sorry,” Hailey spoke almost sheepishly, unable to help feeling at fault for his pain. But now she understood why Gabe had been so all-over-her back then: it can be very scary to see someone you assisted to bring into this world struggling when you know you can do something to help. “Try to think about one thing at a time. Remember when I hadn’t learned food etiquette yet and I grabbed two fistfuls of spaghetti and put them on my head, saying I looked like Gabe now?”

           This garnered a small snicker from Issac, and even if it was brief, Hailey was ecstatic that she was able to distract him from the overwhelming storm of voices. It was something that always made her smile, looking back.

           “That was so embarrassing once I learned better,” he laughed, before averting his eyes. “Before… you learned better, I mean.”

           “You learned from that too,” she consoled, sliding off her bed and crossing the room to flop beside him horizontally onto his.

           Issac closed his eyes, back to his somber state of confusion and overthinking. “I hope this doesn’t come off wrong, but it’s just hard,” the boy trailed off, wincing again like he had earlier. “Knowing everything about me isn’t… actually about me at all.”

           “I get that. I can relate my experiences to an extent, but it’s nothing you don’t already know. And honestly, that must suck.” Hailey turned her head to face him, a small amount of bittersweet sorrow painted across her features. “You’ll figure it out. You have the biggest problem-solving center in your frontal lobe out of all of us. Plus, you’re already starting to be yourself, not me.”

           He twisted his head as well, confused. “What do you mean?”

           “Well for starters, I would’ve never turned down a Chris-prese salad.” The girl smiled teasingly, leaping to her feet and taking the liberty to pop a slice of his untouched mozzarella into her mouth.

           Issac rolled his eyes in amusement at the sudden turn in conversation, sitting up now. “Take the whole thing. The vinaigrette has been stinking up the room anyways.”

           “Really?!” Hailey beamed at the offer, a small glint of mischief twinkling in her amber eyes. “I read about this off-handedly once in the Typical Human Behavior archive on our learning database, I think people call it… A middle of night snack? I’ve never had one before!!” She happily scooped up the plate and Issac’s fork, stabbing a Sycorax-grown grape tomato and popping it between her teeth. “This is so spontaneous and un-regulated!”

           The newborn chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her erratic behavior. “If I had known giving you the go-ahead to have it would make you that happy, I would’ve done it much earlier.”

           “It’s not just the salad,” she explained, pushing another small tomato around with the fork. “It’s the fact I’m doing this on my own behalf.”

           “Yeah,” Issac nodded very slowly, starting to understand. His shoulders sank as he kicked his feet in the air over the edge of his bed, deep in thought once more. “They really do kinda control everything around here, huh?”

           The tanned girl finished off his small portion, setting the dish on her small bedside table. “They also gave us everything,” she reminded him, wiping her hands on her gray pants. “Food, a place to live, knowledge, the best healthcare anyone could ask for, life,” She puckered her lips to one side, before meeting his eye contact. “This is the life we were born into, so no sense in being upset. Certainly could be worse, you know?”

           When he remained silent, Hailey sighed quietly to herself and stifled a yawn. “I think I’m going to head to bed. You should too, your first breakfast at the caf with the rest of us is at 8:30AM.” She climbed into her bed and stole one last peek at her brother, worried about how he would handle his first night, but well aware she’d done everything she could.

           “Goodnight,” he said softly, breaking his zone-out and offering a small reassuring smile, one that fell as soon as she turned out the lights and wished him a goodnight back. His pupils dilated to adjust to the lack of light as he stumbled around the foot of his bed to their shared bathroom and shut the door. Inside he turned on the dim room’s light, resting the heels of his hands on the corners of the sink and leaning some of his weight onto them. Issac stared long and hard at his reflection, this being the first time he’s really gotten a good look at it. He scanned every last detail of his face, taking in all the different curves and crevices the muscles made as he moved his jaw, twitched his nose, raised his eyebrows, anything. His skin was the same exact shade and undertone as Hailey’s, most likely due to all the common genetic data they were comprised of. His hair fell almost to his shoulders, and tickled the back of his neck whenever he moved his head. Tearing his gaze away from himself, Issac began to rummage through the drawers for a hair tie, remembering seeing them somewhere in here from Hailey’s upload. Finding a solid black one in the back-corner of one of them, he pulled his hair back into a tiny low pony just to keep it out of his face. His head was still over-congested with Lunch is at 12:30 every day the past tense of run is ran when introducing yourself to someone new the proper response is to shake their hand Sycorax is a biotechnology company investing in the future of this planet I like the lavender scented soap the best plant cells have stiff cell walls and large vacuoles that animal cells do not Chris is the oldest of any of us and Liv’s clear favorite Derek has been in quarantine for 3 days now due to his genetic makeup failing tomorrows dinner is pasta primavera the four main macromolecules are proteins carbohydrates nucleic acids and lipids bacterial cells don’t have a nucleus-

           Issac squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find any sort of silence in the screaming competition for attention within his mind. He shook his head violently in attempt to physically rid the thoughts, but only managed to let loose some stray hairs that had fallen out of his tie. Who are you? All you’ve ever known is Hailey, and you’re not her, he mentally told his pained reflection, who looked like it was cracking under the weight of a million burdens. How could you ever be someone else than what you are right now?

           The boy shoved the faucet’s handle on and frantically splashed the brisk water onto his face, dribbling it all over his shirt as well as he desperately tried to rip himself from this downward spiral into panic. The bitingly cold liquid seemed to kickstart his lungs again, which he hadn’t even realized weren’t working. Issac gasped in a deep breath of air, feeling how he did when he was ripped out of the growth pod all over again. His eyes refocusing from their hazy blur, he couldn’t help but notice soft red glow was pulsating from the nape of his neck, just on the inside of his collar. Issac pulled it out to its full stretching capacity, the confusion actually doing more good than harm as it provided him with something to focus his attention on. Panic button, he quickly assessed, and it was sending out a signal about his extremely elevated blood pressure and labored breathing, no doubt. Not wanting it to report this personal moment for all to see and possibly be in trouble with Ms. Amara, Issac nimbly slipped the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor in a heap, the red alert dulling until it completely stopped- no longer attached to a body to sense emergency signals from

His chest still expanding and compressing heavily, the boy stole one last glance at himself before shutting off the bathroom light and climbing up into his bed. Even though he’d never experienced it before, Issac instinctively knew he was a creature of comfort, and sought it out by swaddling himself in the provided blankets. He forced himself to close his eyes and hoped as hard as he could that the thoughts would stay quiet just for this one calm moment. His muscles listened and soon relaxed as well, succumbing to the great exhaustion both mentally and physically he’d endured.

           Day one of being alive: Done. And Issac could only hope it would get easier from here.

[hallodraws]

Prototype (Part 3) | Reader x Peter Parker

Wordcount: 1,185

Genre: Male!Android!Reader x Peter Parker/Spider-Man | Marvel (MCU) x Detroit: Become Human AU Summary: “Not long after Tony Stark attends CyberLife’s Annual Investor & Shareholder Conference, the New Avenger’s Facility becomes freshly staffed by various CyberLife Androids. One particular model - the new ST400 - becomes a personal project of Mr. Stark’s. He could never have known that interactions with a particular young Avenger would impact his project in ways he could never have imagined.”

Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: Whew~! This section was a bit of a hard one for me, I wanted it to be more dialogue heavy and fluffy. Hopefully, it was worth the wait and you guys enjoy this little bit :) The next part is going to have quite a bombshell that’s going to set the scene for the rest of the story, so stay tuned ;^) I want spaghetti so fucking bad now. Also, if you want to be on the tag list for this fic just let me know in a comment

"Will you be watching Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts on KNC tonight, Peter?" (Y/N) asked without warning. "Y-Yeah!" Peter finally managed to snap out of his gaze, "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Good!" (Y/N) smiled, "Rumor has it, Mr. Stark will be releasing some very important news regarding the CyberLife collaboration to the public. It's exciting, isn't it?"

"(Y/N), would you like to watch it with me?" Peter's words came out faster than his brain had time to process. It just kind of spilled out.

"Really?" (Y/N) cocked his head, his LED phasing yellow for a brief moment, "You'd like to watch the interview together?" (Y/N) seemed surprised by this, but his expression hinted at him liking the idea. That look alone made Peter's cheeks burn with a bright pink hue. He looked away in a feeble attempt to hide his flushed face.

"Y-Yeah! I said I'd like to get to know you more," Peter stuttered out, "What better way to do that than hanging out?" He found himself holding his breath - why did he feel so nervous about proposing this idea? It was just watching TV.

"That sounds like fun. I'd love to." (Y/N)'s face seemed to glow as his LED went blue.

"Great!" Peter exhaled - relieved.

"The interview is on at 7:00 pm tonight. If you'd like, I can prepare dinner beforehand." (Y/N) stepped out from the umbrella, beginning to walk back in the direction of the facility. Peter quickly turned to join him, holding the umbrella high to place (Y/N) back under it.

"Oh! You don't have to do that for me, (Y/N)."

"Please," (Y/N) touched Peter on the shoulder, "Consider it my thanks for intervening with Dr. Greggor. I'd be happy to, Peter."

Peter stopped, looking at (Y/N). He had such a kind look in his eyes, his warm hand still on Peter's shoulder. Again, Peter noticed himself staring.

"Well," Peter returned the smile, "how can I say no to that?"

The rest of the work day went off without a hitch. Peter and (Y/N) each resumed their routes in talking to the various Androids on duty - agreeing to meet at 6:00 in the common area. The hours flew. Peter found himself speeding through quicker than usual - his excitement getting the better of him. He was thrilled to sit down and hang out with (Y/N) in a non-work related setting.

He called Aunt May to give her the heads up he wouldn't make it home for dinner. He told her he was eating with a new friend he made at the internship - which wasn't entirely a lie. (Y/N) was a friend - just not a human one, but Aunt May didn't need to know that little tidbit. May was cool with it - obviously - just happy that Peter was making friends.

It was a little before six when Peter strolled into the common area. The table was set with flatware and a pitcher of fresh water.  He could see (Y/N) in the kitchen, happily stirring a pot on the stove. He didn't even notice Peter come in.

"Hey, (Y/N)." Peter called into the room. (Y/N) turned, giving Peter a little wave.

"Hi, Peter! You're here early. Finished all your work for the day?" (Y/N) resumed stirring.

"Yeah, I'm getting a lot faster at my route," Peter walked closer to the kitchen - a savory smell finally hitting him, "Wow! What are you making? It smells fantastic!"

"It's just spaghetti. I wasn't sure what you liked. I hope that wasn't a poor decision on my part." (Y/N) put down the spoon, bringing the sauce and noodles to the table, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving!" Peter pulled up a seat, "This looks great, (Y/N). I hope you didn't go to a lot of trouble just for me."

"Please, Peter. I'm happy to do it." (Y/N) dished out a hearty portion of spaghetti onto the plate, and with a smile and a nod, he began to walk back to the stove to clean his cooking station.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Peter asked, now noticing there was only a setting for one person on the table.

"I don't eat, Peter," (Y/N) chuckled, "My biocomponents run on Thirium 310. I don't need nourishment the way you do."

"O-Oh! That's right... I totally forgot." Peter felt stupid, forgetting something as common knowledge as the idea that Androids don't consume human food. Everyone knew that. Still, Peter felt a little lonely, eating all alone at the table. He looked at (Y/N), cleaning without a word. He was so focused on being a servant and finishing his job - so Peter decided to try to change that.

"We have some time before the interview," Peter said through a mouthful of pasta, "Do you maybe wanna...talk?"

(Y/N) turned, placing the dirty pot and sponge down in the sink. He walked over to the table and pulled up a seat across from Peter. A smile slowly grew on both the boys' faces.

"Sure, Peter. What would you like to talk about?"

"Well, I know a lot about CyberLife and Androids but... what can you do? Your functions, I mean." Peter found himself struggling to talk. After the whole 'Androids don't eat food' debacle, he wanted to make himself sound smart again.

"Well," (Y/N) began, "I'm the 3rd Generation of the ST series - unreleased, of course," (Y/N) reached over to refill Peter's water, not once faltering, "The ST series was made to act as personal assistants, so I can do most everyday tasks - cooking, cleaning, housework, managing appointments, you name it."

"Thanks," Peter took a sip of his water, "Any functions I might not know about?" (Y/N) smirked - looking happy that Peter was showing such an interest in his functions.

"I can speak 300 languages, my brain can perform several billion tasks at any given time, my cosmetic settings are fully customizable, I'm also--"

"Your cosmetics?" Peter interrupted through a mouthful of pasta. He caught himself talking with his mouth full this time, so he quickly covered his mouth and swallowed.

(Y/N) didn't say anything. Instead, he brushed his hair away from his face and began to turn his head. As he turned, the various strands of hair on his head shifted through a vast spectrum of colors - both natural and unnatural shades. From root to tip, (Y/N) cycled through so many different colors, Peter ended up losing track. He sat frozen, fork in hand, in awe.

"Wow! (Y/N), that's incredible! Still, I thought you looked great just the way you were." Peter began screaming internally. Why had he said that?! Embarrassment washed over him as he desperately prayed (Y/N) hadn't heard what he said. But (Y/N)'s audio processor was not broken - he most certainly heard. (Y/N) flashed a beautiful smile back at Peter as his hair returned to its default color.

"Well thank you, Peter. That's a really sweet thing to say."

"S-Sure!" Peter's face crimsoned once again. He looked into his plate of pasta in an attempt to evade eye contact. The rest of dinner was quiet.

NEXT ▶ PART 4 PREVIOUS ▶ PART 2 ARTWORK of ST400/(OC named Aron when not in (Y/N) form) Official Artwork 01, Official Artwork 02, Official Artwork 03, Tags: @tonystanktheirondad @peter-null @starryfool @ragingballofanxiety @leo-nerd-oh @vollycon @sharkie-boyyo @brokenembers @dr3amw4lker @acelin-ginsberg @kalwinxhester @marvelgoateecollection

[werviber-blog]

fantastic keto

What is the fantastic keto — and is it directly for you?

The fantastic keto  is a high-fat, low-carb diet that sends your body into a condition of ketosis, amid which it utilizes put away fat as energy.Westend61/Getty Images,The eating reasoning is getting a great deal of buzz, however it may not be directly for everybody.Picture: Frying container of spaghetti with zoodles, guacamole, tomatoes and shrimps  .

While the buzz is by all accounts warming up around the fantastic keto, the eating rationality isn't new. Actually, it's been utilized as a treatment for epilepsy since the 1920s and returned into the spotlight during the '90s when Dateline ran a portion featuring it as a treatment alternative. Be that as it may, how could it go from epilepsy treatment to weight reduction routine? Indeed, first of all, increasingly more celebs — including Vanessa Hudgens and Halle Berry — have as of late applauded its weight reduction results freely.So what is the fantastic keto? It's a high-fat, low-carb diet that sends your body into a condition of ketosis, amid which it utilizes put away fat as vitality. When you eat thusly — ordinarily we're talking under 50 grams of starches multi day — "you'll devour a gigantic measure of fat," says Shahzadi Devje, RD, CDE, a dietitian in Toronto, Canada. Indeed, by following the fantastic keto, around 60 to 80 percent of your day by day calories will originate from fat. When you limit carbs along these lines and eat increasingly fat, your body takes around 24 to 48 hours to start delivering ketones, which are made when your body processes fat for vitality, says Pegah Jalali, MS, RD, a clinical organizer at the New York University Comprehensive Epilepsy Center, where she guides patients on the fantastic keto. Regularly, your body would use sugars as an essential wellspring of vitality.

 By following the fantastic keto, around 60 to 80 percent of your day by day calories will originate from fat.At the point when the vast majority hear "diet" they think calories, however on the fantastic keto explicit caloric admission isn't the core interest. "Generally, I urge my patients to eat as indicated by their hungers," says Jalali. "Your body can be in fantastic keto state at a scope of calorie levels, and individual needs vacillate everyday relying upon action and different components." But you won't have any desire to add a latte to your morning normal or even an additional bit of organic product to your evening nibble, if those weren't on your dinner plan, says Jalali. "On the off chance that you eat much progressively, at that point you chance leaving ketosis — and on the off chance that you don't eat enough fat, you additionally chance leaving ketosis." Bottom line: When you pursue the fantastic keto, you should do as such perfectly for it to be successful. On the off chance that you present cheat suppers or cheat days, you'd eat a high-fat eating routine and bringing your body out of that fat-consuming ketosis state, which could have negative wellbeing outcomes.

 WHAT DOES A DAY ON THE DIET LOOK LIKE?

For instance of what an average day for the fantastic keto may resemble, here is an example dinner plan that Jalali imparts to her patients.

 BREAKFAST

2 eggs, cooked in 1 tablespoon of margarine or ghee

½ glass cooked spinach, in 1 tablespoon coconut oil

1 mug espresso, mixed with 1 tablespoon margarine and a dash of cinnamon

Early in the day nibble

6 macadamia nuts

6 raspberries

Fish plate of mixed greens (4-5 ounces canned light fish, blended with 2 tablespoons mayonnaise, ¼ glass cleaved celery, ¼ container slashed green apple, and salt and dark pepper to taste), served more than 1 container Romaine lettuce

THE PROS OF THE fantastic keto

A primary advantage of the eating routine, and why a large number of its supporters acclaim the eating plan, is weight reduction. Numerous investigations show promising outcomes: In an examination in The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, fat men dropped around 14 pounds in the wake of following the eating regimen for a month. What's more, in a more drawn out term think about distributed in Clinical Cardiology, large grown-ups holding fast to a fantastic keto  for around a half year saw critical weight reduction — by and large, 32 pounds — just as decreases in all out cholesterol and increments in valuable HDL cholesterol. A survey examine in the European Journal of Clinical Nutrition likewise discovered that the weight reduction seen inside the initial three to a half year of following the fantastic keto was more prominent than the misfortune from following a customary adjusted eating style.

 Weight reduction

What 5 months of steady, sound weight reduction resembles Weight reduction frequently happens on the fantastic keto on the grounds that your body is using fat stores for vitality — and you may likewise see a diminished hunger that regularly results from the eating routine. "We don't know precisely why ketones stifle craving," says Jalali. "Be that as it may, my hypothesis is that ketosis is the state we are in amid starvation and delayed fasting, so it may be a developmental reaction to enable people to adapt." Plus, your body digests fat significantly more gradually than carbs. "Fat has a more drawn out intestinal travel time contrasted and carbs," she says. "So it will drag out that feeling of completion, particularly in the middle of dinners.

 While some state following the eating routine case it is restricting at sustenance related social events, Lara Clevenger, MSH, RDN, a dietitian in Edgewater, Florida, says you can without much of a stretch arrangement ahead. "I as of now pursue a ketogenic diet, and eating out is much simpler than individuals might suspect," she says. "You can request a burger less the bun and fries, in addition to a side of veggies. Or then again request a culinary specialist plate of mixed greens and request olive oil as your dressing, less the bread garnishes. The alternatives are copious!" Clevenger says she initially began the fantastic keto for its calming benefits, because of a family ancestry of heftiness, hypertension, bosom malignant growth, diabetes and dementia. "I will remain on a ketogenic diet for years to come," she says. "I currently have a few times more vitality, I never again experience difficulty nodding off and staying unconscious, I am better tuned in to my craving and satiety, and I am never again dependent on sugar. The eating routine has had a greater amount of an effect than I could have envisioned.Notwithstanding weight reduction, thinks about demonstrate that the ketogenic diet may likewise be useful in treating numerous different conditions, for example, type 2 diabetes, polycystic ovary disorder (PCOS), skin break out and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

 THE CONS OF THE fantastic keto

"Likewise with any eating regimen, there are dependably upsides and downsides," says Devje. On the off chance that you pursue the ketogenic diet, you may see symptoms, for example, awful breath, cerebral pains, sickness and weariness. The negative manifestations some experience when first beginning the eating routine is frequently alluded to as the "keto influenza." This sentiment of tiredness is because of a drop in glucose that can cause torpidity, which for the most part goes in 24 to 48 hours, notes Jalali. You may likewise feel enlarged or obstructed — and you may want to pee all the more every now and again, since ketosis goes about as a diuretic, says Jalali.

 Pioneer of local army that confined vagrants is assaulted in prison

Since the ketogenic diet is restricted as far as nutrition classes, you'll be in danger for supplement inadequacies. "The eating routine requires a hearty enhancement routine, since you can build up specific insufficiencies on a ketogenic diet that can hinder your capacity to remain in ketosis," says Jalali. "You can likewise create micronutrient insufficiencies that can cause male pattern baldness, and many individuals become clogged up on a ketogenic diet." Jalali prescribes examining the eating regimen with both a doctor and a ketogenic dietitian to work to avoid these reactions.

 Also, in case you're following the eating routine for weight reduction, realize that you may restore weight when and on the off chance that you return to your ordinary dietary patterns. "A ketogenic diet is awesome for certain individuals, yet it is anything but a deep rooted eating regimen for everybody," says Jalali, who says she sees benefits for individuals with ceaseless conditions, for example, epilepsy, Type 2 diabetes and PCOS — yet in some cases antagonistic impacts for individuals who go on the eating routine for weight reduction. "A ton of patients find that when they fall off the eating regimen, they recover weight in all respects effectively," she says. "The hypothesis is that by being on the ketogenic diet for a delayed timeframe, their bodies become extremely touchy and effective at utilizing starches." Jalali takes note of that these patients might almost certainly keep up the weight reduction by staying with a low-sugar diet. While more research on weight reduction support in the wake of following the fantastic keto is required, look into demonstrates that cycles of brief ketogenic Mediterranean eating routine periods, isolated by longer times of the Mediterranean eating regimen, more than one year helped stout grown-ups keep up weight reduction.

 There are a few gatherings who shouldn't take the fantastic keto for a test drive. It very well may be hazardous for individuals with sort 1 diabetes, as it can build the hazard forever undermining diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA). Indeed, even individuals with sort 2 diabetes following a ketogenic diet ought to routinely test their glucose and ketone levels to anticipate DKA. On the off chance that you have kidney sickness, you'd need to skirt this eating routine since you'd have to constrain your protein consumption. Furthermore, on the off chance that you have a background marked by disarranged eating, the eating regimen seriously constrains carbs and takes a great deal of control to pursue — which may build the danger of gorging or impulsive indulging. Counsel with your specialist to decide whether this is the correct eating regimen for you.

 WHAT'S THE BOTTOM LINE?

 In case you're intending to pursue the fantastic keto, consider counseling with an enrolled dietitian to decide th

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[mss4msu]

Don Barnes and Don Rogers

Summary: You’re an avid movie buff, reader, and knower of pop culture and have made it your own side mission to educate Steve and Bucky in cultural moments they’ve missed due to being in ice. You’ve been craving spaghetti, so you decide it’s a perfect time to show them the cinematic masterpiece, The Godfather. Dinner and a movie is an offer they can’t refuse, although by the end of it, you wished they had.

Words: 1081

A/N: This is the second installment in my “Steve and Bucky were frozen for a long time, so now they’re learning pop culture” series. If, for some reason, you haven’t seen The Godfather, I tried to leave the nods to it very vague so that nothing is too spoiled. This one goes out to @221bshrlocked and @captain-ariel-barnes for both writing intense and captivating mobster!Bucky fics recently that everyone should read.

“My body NEEDS spaghetti, guys!” you exclaim, holding your stomach as it made the call of its people.

“Why spaghetti? I’ve always been more a fan of riga-TONY!” Tony stated, walking into the kitchen. You and Bucky rolled your eyes at him, while Steve let out a small chuckle, his super soldier powers not enough to combat the dad joke.

“I thought you were leading that mission to Quebec?” Bucky asked him.

“Nah, I let Rhodey take the lead on that one. I promised Pepper a night in.”

“Well, we are having spaghetti tonight, and I’ve decided it’s a perfect time to introduce the boys to The Godfather!” You had finally gathered all the ingredients on the counter and had motioned Steve to fill up the stock pot with water.

“Is it just us?” Bucky asked you, forming meatballs and plopping them in a pan.

“Vision, Wanda, Rhodes, and Sam are on that mission to Quebec, Banner and Thor are having a bro-night, Nat didn’t want to sit through the movie, and Peter is banned from our movie nights after last time when he almost ruined one of the greatest cinematic twists in history. We still haven’t finished Episode V because of him!”

“That means we all get couches to ourselves, so that’s fine by me!” Bucky cheerily replied, stirring the meatballs into the marinara sauce Steve had whipped up.

You finished cooking, grabbed 3 bottles of red wine, one for each of you. The Godfather basically required a pairing of pinot noir. The three of you then moved into the room Tony had converted into a movie room for you. He fully supported your side mission to educate the two old-timers on pop culture, as it would make the team’s joking around a lot less awkward when a joke went over Steve and Bucky’s head and someone had to take the time to explain it. You each plopped on a couch with your bowls of noodles, and you hit play on the DVD player.

“Alright fellas, cinematic classic, coming your way!”

“We should have movie/food pairings more often, (Y/N)!” Steve cheerily slurped up a spaghetti noodle. You knew his smile wouldn’t last long

You dimmed the lights as the beginning music played, and you grabbed a pillow to squeeze. Despite knowing what would happen, the twists of the movie still got you every time.

“Damn, 1945. That’s the year I went under,” Steve sighed to himself.

“WHAT THE FUCK???” Bucky yelled, making you jump more than the horse’s head under the sheets had.

“Can I sit next to you, (Y/N)?” Steve asked meekly, his face a little pale. You sat up and moved to the middle of the couch, knowing you’d soon have company on the other side.

“Buck, you can come over, too,” you sighed. You had hardly finished speaking before Bucky ran over and sat next to you. You should have anticipated this; despite being older than your age multiplied by 3, these two men were shook by this movie. And they had no idea what was to come.

“MICHAEL DON’T DO IT!!! THIS ISN’T WORTH IT!! NOT THE GUN!!” Bucky yelled, making you giggle. The Winter Soldier was such a teddy bear behind closed doors, and you wished the world could see this version of him.

“THIS CARLOS IS A SON OF A BITCH AND I SWEAR TO GOD HE BETTER GET HIS OR I WILL FUCKING GET HIM MYSELF.” Steve yelled, turning red. You grabbed his hand and patted it, but he began gripping it too tightly in anxious anticipation of what was to come, that you had to let go in fear having your fingers broken.

“WHAT?!?!? WHY SONNY?? HE DESERVED BETTER! THIS MOVIE IS TRASH!” Bucky screamed, “(Y/N), he may have been a hot-head, but his heart was always in the right place, this is such bullshit!” You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder, rubbing his back to comfort him.

“NOOOO!!!!” Steve yelled as the car bomb went off. “(Y/N), why would you show us this movie??” he questioned you, his head in his hands.

“Michael is now in the family business?? WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL!! He had an out!” Bucky shook his head in disbelief.

“WAIT! HE’S DEAD? BUT THE GODFATHER??” Steve and Bucky both looked at each other with shock in their eyes. You were glad you’d grabbed a bottle of wine for yourself, as this would have been too much without a distraction.

“Michael was so pure and he got sucked into this business and had no choice but to join it. He was basically forced into a job he didn’t want to do things no man should do,” Bucky wept.

“They all tried to keep Tom safe, but he just couldn’t abandon the family. He needed to help them. He was basically adopted by this family who took him in and loved him when he needed a family of his own,” You saw tears streaming down Steve’s face.

This may have been a giant mistake, you thought to yourself. You had no idea they would have related to these characters so deeply.

A few days passed and you didn’t see either of them leave their rooms. Finally, after a week, they decided to join the weekly team dinner. They were both dressed in sharp suits, and they had greased back their hair, as though they were now a mobster from the 1940s. Honestly, it was a good look on both of them, and it made your mind wander to dirty thoughts about them more than you cared to admit. Bucky pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table, with Steve sitting at the other table head. 

“You’ve come to me on the day of the week that’s today,” Bucky said in a low, gruff voice.

“Okay, Don Barnes,” Nat chuckled at him.

“We’ve decided, upon further review of our missions, that we will be using new tactics for our enemies,” Steve stated in a similar low and gravely voice.

“We’re gonna start making them offers they can’t refuse,” Bucky gruffed again.

“We’re not going to kill anything or anybody though,” Steve clarified, losing his Don Corleone impression.

You made a mental note to never let them know there were two sequels, as their impressions went on for a few weeks. You knew, for your sake and the team’s, it was your responsibility to show them something much cheerier, and soon.

[balajigyb]

Top 10 to Try – Best Iron-rich foods for Toddlers & Kids

Have an infant or youngster in your own home? Is it time to start feeding your little smooth infant with strong food?  Are you involved approximately how to get your infant/youngster to devour healthy ensuring crucial nutrition they need to develop? Stop annoying, we've got your return. Pediatricians at Quick MD Pediatric medical institution help to set your thoughts comfortable via recommending the right nutrients plans for your infants.

From prenatal visits to vaccinations and annual physicals for adults, Quick MD care affords the best pediatric services in  Mckinney, Texas. Our friendly & expert pediatric team of workers provides tremendous but less costly fitness and proper baby care so your children can grow into healthy adults.

Feeding nutritious meals to your infants may be a warfare that every parent may want to relate to. A developing baby needs to get critical nutrients from the meals. However, infants are at the onset of their personal alternatives & meals picks. Often, they exhibit picky and fussy eating behaviors.    

It looks a bit greater white and bland. Kids are picky approximately what they prefer to put in their mouths. They have numerous logic to reject top meals: I don’t like inexperienced, the smell of pumpkin gained’t work for me.    

Caregivers need to take note of children’s nutrition due to the fact it's far critical for their bodily and mental development, however also because a lack of essential nutrients can cause many problems that abate their improvement. One such critical nutrient that we can cowl is iron. Iron is one of the factors that assist the body produce hemoglobin. Hemoglobin is needed via the body to move oxygen among cells.    

The variety of meals is beginning to slender, and a few favorites with nutrient deficiencies are rising.

One of the maximum common nutrient deficiencies in youth is iron deficiency anemia. Iron deficiency (Anemia)  isn't uncommon in youngsters and has a negative have an effect on their neurodevelopment and behavior. Iron deficiency can cause anemia. An aggregate of picky consumption and a lack of parental cognizance can lead to many younger children stricken by this nutrient deficiency.    

In this publish, permit’s speak approximately iron-wealthy food for infants with a specific emphasis on choosy eaters. We will take a look at some of the excellent-recognized foods, which are proper assets of iron, and the way the combination of those foods can help save you the occurrence of anemia in young children.

Iron Deficiency/ Anemia  

Iron in pink blood cells facilitates to move of oxygen and shipping it to distinct elements of the frame. People who get iron deficiency don’t get enough iron in their weight-reduction plan. Red blood cells inside the body contain iron in their hemoglobin, the protein that contains oxygen from body tissue to the lungs. Iron offers hemoglobin the energy to hold oxygen via the blood so that it receives to wherein it belongs.  

This situation is referred to as anemia. Anemia takes place whilst much less oxygen enters the cells and tissues, which affects the way the body functions. This way that the frame can not produce hemoglobin, because of this that it produces fewer purple blood cells.    

Iron performs a vital role in muscle characteristics, energy production, and brain improvement. As an end result, kids with iron deficiency may also have mastering and behavioral troubles.

Iron Deficiency Signs in Toddlers:

Pale skin

The low urge for food

Dizziness

Frequently falling sick, catching a chilly.

Increased heartbeat

What is considered ordinary iron ranges in children?

7 to one year—11 mg consistent with day

1-three years———– 7 mg according to day

four-eight years————10 mg consistent with day

 10-Best Iron Rich Foods for Toddlers & Kids.

In newborns, iron saved in their bodies is sufficient for the primary four months. Newborn infants can consume iron from breast milk and the system.

Vegans, vegetarians, and fussy kids need to consume greater iron than encouraged. Iron is to be had in two paperwork: heme iron and non-heme iron. Heme iron is absorbed with the aid of our frame. Animals and meat contain heme, even as heme-free iron comes from plant-primarily based foods. Foods including lean meat, seafood, eggs, and dairy products incorporate each.

Now that you have looked at the reasons and the excitement surrounding our iron additives without tons of fuss, allow us to introduce you to the iron-wealthy foods that you can comprise into your infant’s nutrients.

Meat and Seafood are appropriate assets of Iron

Chicken and turkey breasts include iron. Even lamb chops can paintings. Seafood together with oysters and canned tuna, which are one of the major assets of omega-3, also are good sources of iron.

You can also attempt to make your dish creamier using the use of avocado as opposed to milk. Children generally tend to reject meat, so that they tempt them with chook nuggets, spaghetti, or meatballs. You also can reduce the beef into funny shapes.

Dried Fruits

Dried fruits are something that kids love, Raisins are frequently preferred by children and raisins can beat constipation too. You could also experiment with other options such as purple tart cherries, dried apricot, and diced watermelons    

Fortified Cereals and Oatmeal

Many dried breakfast bowls filled with cereals for children are fortified with iron up to one hundred% of the daily requirement. To make oatmeal greater thrilling, upload raisins and a pinch of cinnamon. Avoid a day-by-day part of them because they're high in sugar and sodium.

Beans & Lentils

Protein is just not the reason why one ought to encompass chickpeas, kidney beans, soybeans, lentils, or different pulsed beans on your food regimen. Peanut butter is wealthy in iron and may be used as a variety or served to kids. Peanut butter incorporates 0.Fifty-six mg iron per tablespoon.

White beans are top when it comes to iron, supplying 8 mg in line with serving. Serve with rice or in a sandwich. However, this quantity may additionally vary relying on the brand. The iron in those figures will vary through a logo.

Greens are the Best Source of Iron

Vegans, vegetarians, and fussy kids devour greater iron than encouraged. Spinach, kale, and broccoli are all vegetables, whether or not for youngsters or adults. Cut your vegetables on your kids’ favorite dishes. Transform your kids’ smoothie into an extra nutritious blend of veggies in your children’s smoothie.

Dark Chocolate

The fan base for this dark chocolate is huge. Rich in antioxidants, most adults could include it in their eating regimen, however, babies regularly reject it because of its bitter flavor. It carries 7 mg of iron in a serving of three ounces.

Try adding shredded nuts along with pistachios or cashew nuts to big dishes that you cook dinner for your baby. You can soften the darkish chocolate and blend it with peanut butter for a scrumptious flavor. Dark chocolate is one of the nice iron-wealthy foods for your youngsters.

Nuts & Seeds

Nuts & seeds are not the simplest rich in iron however healthy fats, protein, zinc, and other vital minerals too.

Certain seeds inclusive of pumpkin seeds, flaxseeds, and sesame seeds also are healthy. They are not the most effective nutritious however additionally add flavor to the food.

Sweet Potatoes

Sweet potatoes are mainly wealthy in vitamin C. Tip: The absorption of nutrition C into the iron-wealthy food plan is a notable way to ensure that iron is absorbed by the frame. Another extremely good source of ferrous foods is to serve your kids complete nuts, like entire raisins, because they are terrific for suffocating problems. Eggs are rich in proteins, vitamins, minerals, and iron and are bold.

So the next time you bake a pleasing potato for your pricey youngsters, do not forget to maintain their skin. The use of potato peels contains extra iron and vitamin C.

Eggs

Eggs are an outstanding source of protein, vitamins, and minerals consisting of iron and eggs are audacious. You can serve them like boiled, or as scrambled eggs, scrambled eggs, or fried egg sandwiches.

Mushrooms

Certain mushrooms together with oyster mushrooms are wealthy in iron. Think of your child’s well-being via getting ready healthy meals, encouraging them to eat them.

Are your toddlers or kids getting sufficient iron? Or in case you think your little one is iron-poor, consult a doctor or pediatrician for iron supplementation and personalized diet plans that help your kids’ overall improvement.

The pediatricians at Quick MD Care are right here to assist dad and mom expand nutrition plans which are pleasant for his or her youngsters. Our group of pediatric medical doctors provide prenatal visits for professional understanding, information and may coordinate diets for not unusual & complex medical situations, our proper baby-care services help you create healthful conduct for your kids that closing an entire life.

[nauticalparamour]

Here is my little submission for @ash-castle​‘s Valentine’s challenge! The pairing is Fenrir x Hermione in honor of Fenrir February!

Summary: Hermione is annoyed when the guardian of one of her students doesn’t show to pick him up. Little does she know, Fenrir has a little surprise. Genre: Fluff, romance Prompt: “Surprise?”

Hermione stared down at the little boy who remained in her classroom long after all his other classmates had been picked up and taken home to their families and thought that this was one of the rare times that being a teacher had its downsides. She’d tried calling his guardian – his older brother – an obscene number of times, but he had yet to pick up.

Sometimes she wondered how little Ragnar was related to someone so irritating as Fenrir Greyback. Ragnar was one of her best students, who had an excellent grasp of reading, but needed a little extra help with math. He shared well and always seemed to make the other students laugh. With his dark hair and blue eyes, she was sure that he would grow up to be quite the lady killer someday. She just hoped that Fenrir wouldn’t be too terrible of an influence on his younger brother.

Fenrir was all good looks and had the same coloring as Ragnar, but with the rugged handsomeness of man. He drove a fast motorcycle and seemed to be far more interested in trying to flirt with her than understanding how his charge was doing in all of his subjects when they met at parent-teacher conferences. Try as she might, Hermione could not deny that Fenrir Greyback did have an effect on her when he gave her one of those hungry smiles.

Sighing, she moved to sit in the child sized desk next to Ragnar, cringing when she hit her knees on the top of the table. She was going to have to let Ginny and Luna know that their Galentine’s date would have to be cancelled, as it seemed she would have a stow-away tonight.

“Ragnar, since your brother isn’t here, yet, how would you like to wait for him at my house. It’s just around the corner,” she queried the younger boy, knowing that at their age, most students loathed anything to do with their teachers. Seeing a teacher outside of school was like seeing an animal in the while. “You can keep trying to call him there, but at least we can get you some dinner.” To punctuate the late hour, her stomach growled.

To her surprise, Ragnar seemed to perk right up at the suggestion, nodding enthusiastically. “Alright, Miss Granger. That would be nice,” he said, before standing up and gathering his backpack and coat.

On their way out to her little car, Hermione called Luna to let her know that they would have to reschedule. The dreamy blonde quickly wished her good luck on her date, which Hermione tried to correct, saying that she didn’t think her eight year old student would appreciate the word, but her friend had already hung up on her by the time she could get the words out. Thinking that it was a bit odd, but not that odd for Luna, Hermione drove Ragnar the short distance to her house, asking him if he’d like spaghetti for dinner, really the only thing that she could make reliably.

They walked into the house together, coming directly into the kitchen only to leave Hermione completely surprised that there was someone already in the house. Letting out a scream of shock before she could stop herself, the pressed a hand to her chest when she realized that it was Fenrir Greyback in her kitchen with tongs in hand, attention completely given to a steak on the stove

“Mr. Greyback,” she sputtered out, completely confused. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Hey Fenrir,” Ragnar greeted his brother, completely unphased by the odd situation. Had he known where his brother was all along?

“Sorry, Hermione, this is all my doing,” came a feminine voice from the direction of her dining room. Ginny swept in, red hair up in a ponytail. “I helped him get in and get set up. Now, if you don’t mind, Luna and I have babysitting duties. Ready to go Ragnar?” she asked the boy brightly, taking his hand and walking him towards the door. Before she shut it behind her, she gave Hermione one last cheeky wink. “Enjoy your date.”

But then, Hermione realized that she was alone with Fenrir Greyback, and apparently on a date. He turned and gave her a little grin. “Surprise?”

“What, what is all this?” she questioned, knowing that things like this just never happened for her. Had Fenrir really gone to all of the trouble to cook a meal for her on Valentine’s Day? Something just wasn’t adding up.

He urged her into the dining room where her tiny table was set up for two, with candles and a single pink rose in a vase. He gave her a soft smile, seeing that she was still so dumbfounded, she honestly didn’t know what to think. Rubbing a hand across the back of her neck, he started to explain. “Well, you never took me seriously before when I asked you out, so I suppose I just had to show you I was serious. Ginny and Luna were really quite helpful…they apparently both want you to give dating another shot.”

“But, I thought,” Hermione swallowed thickly. “I thought you were just teasing me, trying to make me uncomfortable.

Fenrir gave her one of those smiles that made her heart flutter against her chest. “Come on now, I don’t flirt with all Ragnar’s teachers. Just you,” he stepped a bit closer to her, hand cupping her jaw gently.

Before she could even decide if she wanted to stop him, he was leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut while she soaked in the moment, cataloging the feel of Fenrir’s lips against hers, her heart singing when she realized that yes, she wanted to kiss him and never to stop.

[virmillion]

Arbitrary

Happy Birthday Patton technically a day early but hey thats fine because this is gonna be a choose your own ending story oops // when you get to the end, there’ll be two endings to choose from, so pick which you want to read, and it should hopefully link you to it, let me know if it doesnt work

Warnings: none, let me know if you have any

    Dads are known to have certain responsibilities to fulfill. Taking out the trash, being the ‘fun parent’ with the presents, being the loud sneezer, protecting their kids, you name it, dads probably do it. Patton is no different. Sure, he gets generalized to cracking jokes and baking cookies, but he really does try. He was the one that organized a second Christmas party when they realized Virgil was excluded from the first party. He was the one who ran all over town to find a bookstore with an exclusive copy of the book Logan insisted upon for his birthday. He was the one who set up three different cameras to record every single one of Roman’s performances since the boy could walk. All Patton really wanted was to make sure the other three were happy, four if you included Thomas, which he did, of course. He never asked for anything in return, as long as everybody around him was content.

    Maybe that’s why he’s off by himself now.

    He just emptied his soul out to put everyone else’s needs before his own, so why should he be surprised when no one noticed his own problems? Exactly. He shouldn’t be surprised. He should just smile through it, and pretend he isn’t upset that everyone forgot his birthday. Again.

    “Patton? You gonna make dinner?” A soft knock on his door. Roman.

    “Sure thing, kiddo!” Patton calls back, swiping a harsh fist over his eyes before turning to the small mirror on his dresser. The mirror Virgil decorated with purple and blue rocks. Years ago. No one seemed to care so much about making him gifts anymore. The stones shimmer in the golden glow of Patton’s room, distracting him from his own face. Skin mottled red from tear stains, cracked lips, an ever-furrowed brow. He shakes his head, drags his fingers over his cheeks a few times, and forces a smile. January fifteenth. Just another ordinary day. Nothing special, nothing important, nothing of note. An arbitrary day on an arbitrary calendar in an arbitrary life.

    Patton throws open his door, praying the dramatic flair will disguise from his quivering chest.

    “How’s spaghetti sound?” he calls into the living room, where the other three are draped over the couches. “I bought some stuff for those vegetable meatballs, it sounded interesting.” The most Patton receives in response is some non-committal grunts, not even a nod. Not even a word from Logan on how vegetarian meatballs shouldn’t technically be called meatballs. “Great.”

    In the kitchen, he lets his mind dissolve in the menial tasks of measuring and mixing, ignoring how salty some of it tastes. Not like his head is bent too far over the pot, or the water dripping from his eyes will affect the flavor. It’s like Virgil always says, right? Everything's better with a little bit of salt.

    Patton carefully ladles a considerable heaping of noodles onto four plates, drizzling the tomato sauce over top and stacking fake-meatballs on the rim. It’s not a long journey from the stove to the dining table, maybe fifteen paces, but it feels like fifteen miles. Everything feels like fifteen miles. Not that he’d ever say anything like that out loud. Fifteen. Arbitrary.

    “Dinner’s up!” he calls, bustling around the counters to clean up all the little splashes of sauce and sadness. A momentary pause to look inside himself, aghast. He hadn’t meant to think of the second word. He didn’t want to think of it. Too late now. Too little, too late, but what else is new?

    “Drinks?” Patton says to the congregating group as they shuffle to the table, staring down at phones and books and scripts. Disinterested shrugs, mumbles of water and sprite and coca cola. Patton grabs it all, plunking each bottle down before taking his own seat behind the smallest plate. The least food. There’s probably at least fifteen noodles on the plate, which is good. Enough to not starve. More noodles than words spoken at the table, to be sure.

    “So, how’s everyone’s day been?” he asks, bouncing his fork against the plate.

    “Reading.”

    “Tumblr.”

    “Auditions.”

    “Great.” He lets the silence take over once more, interrupted by the clinking of forks and the occasional slurp of a noodle. Maybe a disapproving glance for the noise. Nothing more.

    Fifteen minutes for four people to eat four plates of food with nine words exchanged. Disheartening, but not uncommon. They never seem to talk anymore, really. Just let words bounce around in their heads, never giving them voice or thinking the others will care to hear. Patton always loved hearing it, but evidently they didn’t love sharing. Unsurprising.

    “’Kay, I’m done. Thanks, Pat,” Virgil mumbles, pushing his chair back, his half-full plate staying where it is. He heads for his own room, shortly followed by Roman and Logan, none of whom supply excuses for abandoning Patton. Again. On an arbitrary day, just like any other. Why should he expect any different?

    Patton sets to work carefully putting away the dirty dishes, rinsing off the utensils and scraping the remains of the spaghetti into the garbage disposal. It screams at him as it crushes the food, chopping and shredding and crying and hating. Patton moves quicker.

    The television is still softly flickering in the other room, sharing sad news and upsetting stories and terrible developments, the usual. Across the bottom of the screen scrolls a number. January fifteenth. An arbitrary day. Patton digs a hand under the couch cushion for the remote, unflinching at the scattered crumbs from food long forgotten. From late night movies that the four sides used to marathon together. Not anymore. Stale food from stale memories. He clicks off the television, letting his eyes drift over the spinning block in the corner, proudly announcing the time. 6:36 at night. 18:36. The hour squared is the minute. The hour doubled is the minute. Fun number games Logan used to teach him, playing around with the numbers for no real reason beyond mindless entertainment. Not anymore. An arbitrary game with arbitrary numbers. Patton probably learned the word ‘arbitrary’ from Logan, in all honesty. Not surprising.

    Back in his own room, alone, Patton glances at the wall to the right of his door. While his room did have several nostalgia-related items when Thomas visited, it’s more organized than that when he’s alone. An entire shelf dedicated solely to candles from Roman, based around fond memories, lost to the winds of time. Patton lifts one gently from the shelf, from some holiday a few years back. Campfire donuts. Probably just a random Christmas gift at the last minute, its scent drowning in artificial sweetness. Manufactured. Arbitrary. Patton replaces the candle on the shelf.

    The shelf below has all the crafts the other three had ever given him, each loved greatly and held near to his heart. The tradition of making Patton presents had a severe drop off once the youtube videos started. Too busy with scripting ideas, recording, planning, socializing, anything that doesn’t have to do with wasting time making Patton happy. That’s Patton’s job anyway, right? Make the others happy? He shouldn’t have the audacity to expect that they return the favor. Not like they ever really did, to be fair. Patton trails his eyes over the raggedy stuffed animals, knit with shaky hands and zero aptitude for reading a pattern. A coloring book, filled with crude drawings scribbled over in crayon. Numerous sets of collectible pens, all from his favorite shows and books. Patton steps back from the shelf and leans against his bed, sliding to the floor. His shirt catches on the blanket, riding up and leaving his back exposed to the scratchy material. An arbitrary feeling to notice, really, but better than feeling nothing at all. After all, he should know something about bad feelings, right? He’s at the core of a lot of Thomas’s feelings. Might as well give him the bad ones, too. Not like he isn’t used to it. The clock ticks softly on his bedside table. A little silver analog trinket, given in the wake of his being late to some event or another. A gag gift, really. Tick tock, the witch is dead. Seven o’ clock. Nineteen hundred hours. Time sneaking away from him, without another knock at the door. Silent and alone, Patton’s head lolls back on his bed, drifting off to sleep. An arbitrary activity for an arbitrary person.

Dark | Warm

Tag list:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit @leesacrakon @virgilmood @pantasticpanini

[heymondoitaliano]

A simple sandwich

Our final day in Lecce had arriven. One more visit with the real estate agent, whom we met at (what is by now) the usual bar at 10am. Before the bar, though some cleaning of the house and some packing of the bags. It was a 20 or so minute walk to the bar on the other side of the centro storico and the weather was mild. Actually, the weather has been pretty mild for almost all of our stay, each day peaking at around 15C and not dipping much below 6C at night. There have been a couple of windy days which made the apparent temp quite a bit lower, but what are puffer jackets for?

Cristiano had a beautiful apartment to show us, quite grand and with skylights and the view of a 14th C church, but well out of our price range. The second was quite a distance away, just out of the centro storico, by a street, but still from the early 1800s and very recently and sterilely renovated. This had the added feature of a family in residence sitting on the couch. I felt a little uncomfortable inspecting a small apartment with a kiddie on the couch and a woman in the laundry. We didn’t like it anyway - too ‘without feeling’.

It was round about lunchtime, so we headed home via Doppiozero, the cafe we have most frequented here for a simple sandwich, which we were pleased to be able to order even though they were not on the menu as such. Really, there’s a great amount of satisfaction in just being able to order a panini with the toppings you want in a foreign language AND to get the right thing delivered to you. Our post-prandial activities were apartment cleaning related, mopping the floors and suchlike. Pip did manage to put together a rather large bag of food that we either did not finish or open and took it across the vico to offer to the Signora, whom we suspected lived a frugal life and might like these items. Pip practised the Italian for “these are things we did not use and did not want to waste…” and the Signora accepted them gratefully. It wasn’t long before she knocked on our door with a packet of ground coffee wrapped in a paper towel for us to take back with us. I think she liked the stuff.

Our big decision for the day was to decide where we would have our final Leccese meal, and it wasn’t difficult to decide that, for the second time this week, we would attend Bar Moro. We really can’t sing it’s praises enough. I farewelled Lecce with a tender rib eye fillet and Pip with a swordfish steak, we had the grilled seasonal vegetables, which are beautiful, and the roasted potatoes. We even had dessert - Tira Misu and a chocolate soufflé. Digestives of Limoncello and smoked Grappa were what we toasted farewell to Lecce with. We had a little chat with the waiter on our way out, just to let him know we wouldn’t be stalking the place anymore, and he shook our hands and wished us Buon Viaggio.

In the morning, we had a schedule that would get us to the airport in Brindisi by about 10am for 11:15 flight to Rome. The Signora came out to bid us farewell and kiss the cheeks and we trundled to the car for the last time. The only stop before the airport (entire trip, by the way, done without Daniel the GPS) was to half fill the tank with diesel. The car had been supplied to us half full, or 4/8 full as the guys in Rome had written on the paperwork, and was required to be returned in a similar state. The car was returned to Europcar and despite a little consternation at the half-full tank (Pip thought they were worried that they’d have to fill it and Rome should have been paying) we made it to the safety of the airport cafe for a last pair of pasticiotti and a coffee.

We arrived in Rome and collected our luggage, fully prepared to catch the train to Trastevere station, but were sidetracked to a door-to-door shuttle at the train ticket box - €3 more for door-to-door is a good deal. The shuttle left immediately and was driven at great speed by a sleepy, old chap who had to keep opening the window to wake himself up, while he went through red lights and squeezed the minibus through tiny gaps in the Roman traffic. He deposited us at the Ripa Hotel in Trastevere and we deposited ourselves in a comfy, 2 bedroom suite on the 4th floor. Number big son was flying in from Paris and would meet us later, so we told him about the shuttle from the airport deal and went for a walk, ostensibly to find a simple sandwich. This time we new the simple sandwich we wanted, one with porchetta in it, but we couldn’t find the shop, I suspect it had closed since we last visited because it couldn’t be that we couldn’t remember where it was after three years. Further roaming in a very busy-with-American-tourists Trastevere found us the roman equivalent of a fast food joint that sold porchetta on pizza bread sandwiches, which was just the shot and very tasty.

We headed back to the hotel through Trastevere and via an area we hadn’t been in around Piazza di S. Cosimato, which is close to the Ripa and has quite a different feel to the rest of Trastevere. We spent the rest of the afternoon in the bar, sipping Spritz Aperols and eating olives and chips, until number big son called to say that the shuttle wouldn’t bring him to the Ripa, only to Termini, where he would have to catch a cab to join us. I reckon airportexpress.com is a bit dodgy, but I booked them to collect us at the hotel tomorrow to take us to the airport in the afternoon, which strangely cost more than the journey in.

Another drink to hail our reuniting with Reuben and some bar snacks for him, then it was time to head out for dinner (this seems to come around quicker in every story I write? It isn’t really the focus of our journey, honest). This time we decided to head back to Piazza di S. Cosimato and see what we could find. We found Restaurant Ai Spaghettari and we found its lamb cutlets, spaghetti carbonara and spaghetti with mussels and vongole most appealing - genuine local food - and tasty.

This is the final instalment of this travel tale. Suffice to say the journey home was long and if you ever have an airline tell you that an hour is sufficient at CDG in Paris to change from terminal 2F to 2E, pass through passport control and get to the furthest gate 53 without having your reservation cancelled and your seats given away, kick ‘em where it hurts.