#yeah i love the time i spent there and would do anything to just have a normal day at college again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepowerofswayze · 17 hours

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college art donaldson !!!

maybe something about him , tashi , reader , and patrick all being in a friend group at while in college. maybe patrick comes down to visit tashi and suggest an idea where they drive down to the beach and rent a beach house for a few days or something. while they’re there tashi and patrick start arguing leaving reader and patrick alone.

change whatever if u need to but js anything with college art , please !!

so i took a million years and definitely wrote too much but. finally. FINALLY. thank you sm for this request, i hope you like it :)

☆

beach trip

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, NOT beta read lol (but nothing of mine ever is), college era art my love, friends to lovers, art and reader swim in their underwear lol, reader wears a bra, reader likes swimming, first time together, oral sex (reader receiving), p in v sex, safe sex (condom moment), art is a munch

summary: A group beach weekend sounded great- until Tashi and Patrick spent the whole drive bickering and the whole first night moments from pouncing on each other. Looks like you and Art will have to keep each other company.

☆

“Don’t let him scare you, he’s shit at board games. And card games. Just like he’s shit at tennis.”

You just blinked, eyes darting to Patrick to see how he’d react to Tashi’s dig. The nervous laugh to your left let you know Art was just as unsure as you were.

When Patrick had come to visit Tashi and suggested all four of you take a trip to a rental beach house, you knew being in close quarters with the both of them for a full 3 days would be interesting, at the least. You weren’t about to pass up on the beach trip, though- not when Patrick was covering the rent.

What you didn’t know was that they would be argue-flirting the entire way there, and every moment since you’d all arrived. It made sense, though- between Tashi rooming with you, Patrick not having a room since he wasn’t a Stanford student, and his long stretches between visits, they hadn’t had any time alone in a little over 2 months.

Their flirting was always a little angry- little jabs and remarks that would have made you wince if you were the target. For them, it just made the other’s eyes linger on their partner's lips for a little too long.

Patrick licked his lips before he responded. “Do you ever talk about anything else?” He asked, a lazy half smile on his face.

Tashi’s comeback was almost immediate: “Not like you give me anything else to talk about.” She leaned back on her hands, eyes raking over him from top to bottom.

Patrick seemed to enjoy the scrutiny. He leaned forward, that lazy smirk changing into a playful grin. “Yeah? I got something I could give you right now.”

Alright. That was your sign to go.

When you turned to Art, brows raised, he was already looking at you. You glanced from him to the door and back. You knew Patrick and Tashi would be on each other any second now, whether you two left or not, and you really didn’t want to get caught up in it.

Art nodded.

Your “I think I’m gonna call it a night” and Art’s “Uh, me too” fell on deaf ears as you two scrambled out of the room. Art had barely shut the door behind himself before you could hear those two pounce on each other, the board game you’d been playing definitely scattered and forgotten.

It made you snicker, like a middle school boy. One glance at Art and he was laughing too, a hand over his mouth, his red stanford baseball cap the only thing keeping his hair from falling into his eyes as he shook.

More noises from the room- a crash, then the dull thud of something falling to the carpet. You winced through your grin, then made your way down the hall toward the front porch, beckoning Art to follow you.

Outside, you placed your arms on the railing, leaning entirely on the rickety wood. In the cool night air, you couldn’t hear your roommate and her boyfriend getting it on like animals. You didn’t blame them, even if the angry flirting style wasn’t for you. If you had a partner who was always away, you knew you’d jump on them the moment they were in sight.

You glanced over as Art joined you, mimicking your posture. You knew there was a point, early freshman year, when he’d liked Tashi. It was hard to ignore how his smile dropped when he’d watch Patrick and Tashi reunite, thinking no one was watching. And you always recognized how lost he looked when he stared at her while the three of you had lunch- after all, you looked at him the same way.

Recently, though- over the year and a half you’d known the three of them- he was easing up on it. His smiles lingered long after he thought everyone had looked away. He didn’t even notice when Tashi walked into the cafeteria until you waved her down to sit with you guys. And now, next to you, he was grinning at their antics instead of grimacing.

He seemed to be over it. If only you could be so lucky.

“Like… animals,” Art said, glancing over at you. You were caught so off guard, you didn’t even remember to pretend you hadn’t been staring.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You laughed, grinning. “They definitely needed that. Did you hear them in the back of the car on the way down here?”

Art groaned. “Oh my god, I thought they were gonna go at it right there.” He brought his voice an octave higher, lifting his chin in an imitation of Tashi that could’ve also passed for royalty- what was the difference, really. “‘You eat like shit. No wonder you play the same.’”

Immediately, you dropped your voice, giving him a coy side smirk and raising one eyebrow. “‘I’ll tell you what I’d rather eat.’”

The two of you doubled over, howling in laughter. Then, another crash from inside. Escaping them was going to be harder than you thought.

“You wanna head down to the water?” Art asked.

“Sure,” you said, smiling wide when he gave you a mock bow and let you lead the way.

The roar of the waves was comforting as you got closer, sand covering your bare feet- neither of you remembered to grab shoes- and the salty air filling your nose. The walk was silent, and the few minutes you spent standing at the edge of the ocean was, too. You watched it reach out toward you, then retreat back into the glittering blue-black. At some point, you closed your eyes.

“I’ve never swam in the ocean.”

Your eyes snapped open. Art was still looking out at the water, head tilted like an inquisitive puppy. The wind fought to ruffle the few curls that peaked out from under his hat. “Never?” You asked.

Art shook his head. “We didn’t really go when I was a kid, and I was way too scared, anyway. Then when I went with friends it was more about beach volleyball and drinking than actually swimming.” He looked over at you, then laughed. “I’m guessing from your face right now, you must love swimming in the ocean.”

You closed your mouth, which you hadn’t realized had fallen open, and shook your head. “Do I?” His incredulous head shake made you smile. A beat of silence. “Are you still scared of it?”

He took a moment to answer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Not too scared to try, I guess.”

“Alright, wanna try?”

Art just tilted his head at you. You gestured toward your clothes, then the ocean, then to him. You could see it in his face when he caught on. “I’m not going in alone.”

You only took a second to think about it before you were tugging your t-shirt off and tossing it on the sand between you two. Your shorts came soon after. You already had one foot in the water when Art called your name, laughing so hard he could barely say it.

You shrieked at the cold as it hit your stomach, then sunk down to your shoulders, getting the shock over with all together. When you turned back toward the sand, you saw a shirtless Art running toward you in his boxers, moonlight tracing his chest and shoulders. He still had that fucking hat on. It made you grin.

He didn’t shriek when he hit the water, but he did take a lengthy inhale. You watched as he held his nose, screwed his eyes shut, and dunked himself up to his head. His hat bobbed just above the surface, and you picked it up and put it on yourself.

When he came back up, he shook his head, wet hair sending droplets flying. Art grinned, wiping water from his eyes and pointing at the hat on your head. “Thief.”

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll just let it float away then, idiot.” It only made him grin harder. You waved your arms back and forth through the water, the cold easier to ignore when you moved. “So?”

“Hm?”

“Still scared?”

Again, he thought about it for a moment. “No, actually. I think I’m okay.”

You hummed, bringing a finger to your chin in mock deep thought. “What if there are sharks? I think you should be scared of sharks, probably.”

“Nah.” Art shook his head. “The sharks should be afraid of me. I’m the scariest thing here.” He lifted his arms out of the water to flex comically, chin lifted in comical pride.

You laughed, splashing him, making him yelp. “Okay, sure, macho man.”

“What, don’t believe me?”

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Before you knew it, Art had his arms around your middle, lifting you and dunking you in the water back first, like a baptism. You had all of two seconds to scream, then shut your eyes and mouth. He let you up immediately, wading away from you and toward the sand as you resurfaced, spluttering.

“Donaldson!” you shouted, though your serious tone was undermined by your beaming face. Somehow, his hat stayed on your head.

He’d gotten a little ways away from you, but you still had the advantage- you swam in the ocean every chance you got.

You surged toward him, biting back a cackle as his eyes widened in fear. You grabbed his shoulders, pushing off him and shoving him under the waves. He stayed under for a second- then two, then three, until you vaguely started to worry- before jumping out in front of you, wrapping his arms around your torso and making you all but scream.

“Holy shit!” You were giggling, wrapping your arms around Art’s neck for stability. “Isn’t it fun in here? You’ve been missing out.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, so you met his eyes. You hadn’t realized how close you were. It seemed like the realization was hitting him, too, as his eyes scanned your face. He glanced from your eyes to your lips and back. Despite the breeze and the water, your skin was suddenly very warm. You could feel every point where his body touched yours.

You knew what was happening- you could sense it. At least, you were pretty sure you knew. It’s the only thing that could come next, right?

… Maybe you were reading it wrong.

You hesitated. Then, suddenly, “God, it’s cold,” and you kicked off of him to dunk yourself in the water one more time, resurfacing a couple steps away and wading onto shore. When you looked back at him, you could almost convince yourself that the same disappointment that filled your chest was written on his face. “Come on!” You called cheerfully, and Art started after you, replacing the look with an amused smile.

You both put your clothes back on, if only to shield yourselves from some of the breeze on the short walk back. You were both silent as you neared the house, as you walked down the halls. Neither of you even remarked on how Tashi and Patrick had finally gone silent. When Art got to his door and stopped, though, you turned to him.

“Goodnight,” you said, willing your voice to sound less defeated than you felt. Your hands fiddled with the hem of your soaked shirt.

Art nodded. That look was back in his eyes, the one that looked just how you felt. “Goodnight.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The shower was much needed and very welcomed. You took your time getting sand off of you as best as you could, working the water into your hair (you’d wash it tomorrow- you weren’t going through that whole workout this late). When you stepped out of the hot water, toweling yourself off, your eyes caught on the red Stanford baseball cap on the sink counter. You bit your lip and walked past it, into the connecting bedroom you were calling yours for the weekend.

Pajamas on, you sat at the edge of your bed, scrunching your hair mostly dry with a spare t-shirt you’d packed just for that. The crash of the ocean enveloped you through the open window.

You thought about it. About his arms around you and his chest against yours. About the way he’d looked at you and you’d known exactly what he was going to do. About his face when you’d second guessed yourself and ran away.

Fuck. Why did you run away?

When you got up and walked to the door, you grabbed the hat from the bathroom counter. You told yourself you were only going to return it, but something in the back of your mind laughed at your excuse.

You had just gotten to the door, lifting a hesitant hand to knock, when it swung open and you were met with a flushed, freshly showered, boxers-and-t-shirt clad Art Donaldson.

The two of you stared for a moment. You didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes anymore, but there was still something there. You were sure it was on your face, too.

You cleared your throat. “Hat,” you said, intelligently.

Art glanced at the hat in your slightly raised hand, then nodded. His eyes came back up to meet yours, then darted down to your lips. He opened his mouth and hesitated. “Do you wanna-”

You pushed forward, pressing your lips to his for just a moment, before pulling back, searching his eyes. He didn’t give you too long to think about what you’d just done, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you back toward him and kissing you again. Hard.

Art yanked you into the room, and you dropped the hat, the door shutting as he pushed you up against it. His hands found their way under your sleep shirt, settling on your bare waist, and one of yours cupped his cheek while the other thread through his hair. You tugged gently at the curls, and he sighed your name into your mouth.

You pulled back just long enough to murmur, “Bed?”

He obliged, grabbing your hand to lead you to the corner bed. His rental room was similar to yours, save for a warm, dull bedside lamp on, barely illuminating the room.

You both crawled onto the bed on your knees, leaning forward to pick up where you’d left. Art’s hands played with the hem of your shirt and you helped him lift it off of you. His shirt went next. He cupped your breasts tentatively, thumbs brushing over your nipples, his face watching yours like he wanted to see if he was doing this right. You pulled him back in for another kiss and bit his lip. He groaned.

“Lay back,” he murmured against your mouth.

You did as told, scooting up the bed and falling into his pillows. They smelled mostly of the air freshener the owner of the beach house had doused it with, but the vague hint of Art’s cologne permeated the room.

He kissed you again, holding himself up over you. He placed kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. As one of his hands came to rest between your legs, pressing against you between your pants and underwear, he placed his mouth on one of your nipples. He bit at it gently, sucking immediately to make up for the hurt and moving his hand against you. Your breath stuttered and grew heavy, lips parting, as he moved to your other nipple.

Art pressed a kiss to your stomach next, trailing lower, eyes closed. You watched as he murmured against your skin, “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” ‘Sex with me or eating me out specifically?’ you wanted to ask. Instead, you bit your lip and watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down together and tossing them on the floor. He pressed alternating kisses to each of your thighs, inching closer and closer. You could barely hear your voice when you asked, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

A shiver ran through you, partially from the vulnerability and cool air, partially from the way Art was looking at you- reverent. Devout. “I couldn’t imagine I’d be lucky enough.”

You wanted to say something back- something clever and sweet to let him know just how easily he could have had you- but his mouth was on you in less than a second, and all that you could do was let out an odd cross between a huff and a whine.

His tongue pressed flat against you- eager, almost desperate, like you were an oasis in the desert. His nose bumped your clit as he bobbed his head, switching between long strokes and focusing on sucking your clit. “Shit,” you whispered, your hand threading through his hair. He fell into a rhythm, the consistent vulgar noises of his mouth against you filling the room alongside your gasps and whines.

When his tongue pushed into you, your eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, Art,” you said, barely gripping his hair and faintly hoping that it wasn’t painful for him. He only whined at his name, a desperate noise, and pushed his face impossibly deeper. “I’ll- I’ll come if you keep-” You cut yourself off with a groan.

Art pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to. Please, let me taste it.” Immediately, his mouth was back on you, like he couldn’t keep himself away for long. You would’ve playfully chided him for being so filthy had you not been busy gripping his hair and letting curses fly.

You let your head fall back, hips rolling on their own accord, and he only adapted and let you ride his face and bring yourself to the edge. You came with a loud cry, thighs pressing in on his head, back lifting just slightly off the bed. Art didn’t back off as your high subsided, continuing until you’d come down and were laying there, panting.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, then pulled Art back up onto the bed. His eyes were glossy, much like the majority of his face, covered in you and his own spit. You put your hands on his cheeks, ignoring the sticky feeling and pulling him in for a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

One of your hands wandered, trailing down his chest and coming to rest at the front of his boxers, palming him. He groaned.

“I wanna fuck you,” you said, pulling away to look him in the eye.

Art huffed a laugh. “You can’t say that to me. I’m not gonna last at all.”

That caught you off guard, and you laughed. “What?”

He shrugged coyly, almost smug as if his cheeks weren’t still flushed and glistening from his time spent between your legs. “I’m, like, halfway there already.”

Just from eating you out and a little petting? That was… surprisingly hot.

You told him as much, relishing in how deeply he flushed and how widely he grinned. You made him lie back on the bed. “Condoms?” You asked.

He nodded toward his bedside, to the backpack leaning against the nightstand. You raised an eyebrow at him before leaning off the bed to grab one. All he offered you was a shy smile.

You kissed his chest, making your way down to his waistband, and he watched, propped up on his elbows, like he was sure if he took his eyes off you you’d disappear. When you pulled down his boxers and tossed them aside, you wasted no time ripping the condom wrapper open and rolling it on.

Getting up on your knees, you hovered over him and lined your hips up with his. You gave him a quick glance. “This okay?”

He nodded, eagerly, and you could’ve broken at the sight. You sank onto him, gasping slightly at the sensation. Art watched your face, open mouthed, eyes never leaving yours. You almost wanted to look away, but the intensity was riveting.

With him now fully in you, you gave yourself a moment to adjust, hands settling on his chest as he gripped your thighs. You gave your hips an experimental push forward.

Art let out a groan that sounded somewhat like “Fuck” and “Ugh” put together. You repeated the motion, your mouth opening softly as you watched his eyes flutter open and shut. It was like he was struggling between giving into the feeling and watching you.

You increased your pace, head falling forward as you lifted your hips with each push. Art’s hands moved to grip your ass, eyes focused on you, little pants and whimpers escaping him as you moved. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. You would’ve responded in kind, but he bucked his hips moments after and your head fell back with a moan.

With your hands now supporting you from behind, gripping the sheets, you rolled your hips with each lift. Art let out a particularly pathetic whine, and you grinned through your heavy breathing, gazing at him with heavily lidded eyes. “Close?” He nodded, his expression so desperate that you were sure he was right on the edge. You could feel yourself right behind him. “Cum for me then,” you panted.

Art groaned, one hand moving to press sloppy circles against your clit. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, wanting to see his face as his orgasm hit him. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips parted as he panted and he whimpered. When his orgasm came, his eyes shut and he cried out, gripping you tightly and continuing to rub your clit, hips bucking into you involuntarily. You were only a second behind, “Fuck, Art!” the only thing you could say before your hips stuttered and your second orgasm washed over you.

Slowly, you came to a stop, panting and barely keeping yourself up. Your head was light, and you couldn’t wipe an exhausted smile off your face. When you finally felt like your arms wouldn’t give out, you lifted yourself off of him, collapsing on the bed between him and the wall, catching your breath.

Art removed the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash before turning to face you. His breathing was much more regular, but his chest still heaved. “...Fuck,” he said.

And you laughed, one arm over your eyes, the other clutching your stomach. “Yeah?”

He was grinning at you when your arm moved off your eyes, then leaning in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collar bone, your cheek. “Yeah,” he murmured. Silence fell over you both as you watched him intertwine your fingers and stare at them. His lip twitched, like he was working up the courage to say something. “I meant it, you know. I wanted this- you- I’ve liked you for… a while.”

You hummed, now suddenly also very interested in your intertwined fingers. “‘Liked,’ past tense? All done now?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, dumb-ass.” You smacked his arm, glancing up to find him looking at you now. “Like. Still. And probably will for a while.”

You felt your face warm. You kissed him. “I like you, too. Still do. Will for a while, etcetera.”

“Thank fucking god,” he said, and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh. When Art kissed you again, you could feel his smile against your lips, and you were sure he could feel yours.

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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Hello I have an idea for Tim.

What if he got those game screens pop up whenever he's doing some side missions or quests. And after that he'll get some cool and valuable stuff like: cool weapons with superpowers that are not from his world, advantages of gaining more information than the whole hero community, etc..

The Batfam probably thought that he was doing those missions because he was bored and wanted to relieve some stress, which is kinda true but whenever he does these quests he also makes a lot of allies from across the planets and helps him through it while also being part of the "Tim protector squad".

Also the screen will always congratulate him and give him some praise, plus the screen can also help Tim by upgrading his stuff or watching him from any danger and giving him a warning to be careful. Just a guy with his screen, what could go wrong? Hahah-

But. The screen can also give him some weird quest like "protect your loved one from [Redacted]" which confuses Tim but the screen doesn't have any power only providing him so who's the one controlling the screen???

Anyway these are just silly thoughts that I want to give :333

Heck yeah! I love exploring unusual/non-typical powers.

I really really want to develop this some more, so let's set up a power!

My favorite genre of games is horror. The fighting styles, gameplay, concepts, stick layouts, and all of that can be drastically different between games [at least Tim isn't stuck with game powers where he can't fight back]. Because of that, the end goal may be impossible to reach and thus changes to a new objective.

Here is an example of where this happened with Tim:

Convince Dick Grayson to become Robin Become Robin

Tim's thoughts and feelings can affect the missions he's given. He will never be given an objective he would not do (e.g. Kill Alfred). Not completing any task (side or main) can have consequences. Main ones have drastic outcomes that he can only somewhat control if he attempts them.

Upon completion, he gets points and rewards. His rewards are anything from new skills, connections, weapons, resources, etc.

His points can be used either in the "shop" or for his skill tree (Tim desperately wishes it was a "pay to play" game so he can get more points).

The shop has weapons, elixirs (one of which is Lazarus water), one use spells, maps, information/clues, outfits with effects, armor, etc.

His skill tree has three main branches: Body, Mind, and Soul.

For Body, he can enhance any of his characteristics to the upper limits of humans: eye sight, health, stamina, strength, sense of smell, etc. His points can also lower the difficulty or time needed to learn a very specific skill (ex. spending 5 points to decrease time needed to learn how to wield a pistol).

For Mind, he can hasten his thinking speed, create defenses against multiple mental attacks (including emotional manipulation and telepathy), decrease the mental energy required per tasks, decrease time spent learning languages/information, etc.

For Soul, this includes abilities to protect himself from magical/whatever interference, increase charm, increase ability to understand/read others' emotions, etc.

If he sounds OP, worry not! Tim suffers from never having enough points (he learned the hard way that he also needs to keep an amount saved up in case he suddenly needs to buy a tool or skill to save his or someone else's life.). There's so much he can buy, but there are only so many hours to complete side missions

Tim's least favorite quest was when he was chilling alone with his Zesti and suddenly got the notification:

Run

Jason's a jerk for scaring the shit out of Tim like that at TT

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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foreverisntenough · 2 days

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 13 - Mama | ‘Ours’

Trent finally returned home and the first game of the season was imminent. He was exhausted and it was late, like very late when he came back. You had long put Teddy to bed but waited up for a cuddle with him. It wasn’t like you had spent months apart but it felt like that. The feeling of being back in his arms felt like paradise. The smell of him fresh out of the shower, the warmth of his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his soft lips every time they pressed into yours. You could die happily right here. This was pure bliss.

“I just want to spend time alone with you. I miss being your main focus” you cooed tiredly nuzzling impossibly closer into him. You were talking about how your trip to the US was filled with family and friends and of course… your baby. Which was lovely but time alone with him was rare and you missed it.

“You’re always my main focus.” he kissed your nose and you couldn't help but smile even though you knew he was lying. Teddy was both of your main focuses 24/7 which you didn’t mind, in fact you loved it but you’re only human you, of course, missed moments of interrupted alone time sans baby monitor. “That’s not gonna happen here either though, baby. We have our eternal plus one.” You smiled just thinking about Teddy. “As much as I love her, you know what I was thinking?” you nodded for him to continue. “We should start planning the honeymoon.” he spoke softly, rubbing his hand over your thigh you had thrown over his torso.

“Yeah? You’ve thought about that?” you giggled surprised he’d thought about any of the planning at all.

“It’s one of the first things I thought about after I asked. Like the wedding will be amazing. Family, friends, yeah, yeah, yeah. But c’mon baby… after, when we’re married, just me and you on a beach… you in bikinis, my wife.” He puffed out some air from between his lips expressing just how great he thought it could be.

“We should probably plan the actual wedding first, no? Before we skip ahead.” You gave him a cheeky look knowing that you two actually had to start making finite plans if you wanted it to actually get to be his wife in a bikini.

“Yeah, you’ll get going. I know you already know what you want.” He replied cheekily, squeezing your thigh a little.

“No, no, no, this is a team effort.” You waved your finger at him making sure it was clear he was not exempt from the planning process. This was not your wedding, this yours and his* wedding.

“You're the captain of this though. I’m only merely a vice captain. Google it.” He teased creating a half assed defense for himself. You rolled your eyes, not amused and definitely not letting him get out of this.

“Fine. Team talk; me and you tomorrow morning… with the boss.” You instructed him. He looked at you confused for a moment. Tilting his head looking down at you not fully understanding the reference you were making. “The boss.” you repeated picking your head up to look at him with a ‘why do you not understand what I am saying’ type look.

“Ah…Teddy.” He laughed. You put your head back down and smacked your hand against his chest gently.

“Yes, Teddy, your daughter. The one who runs this entire house. The boss.” You emphasized, giving him a hard time about how he didn’t pick up on your bad joke initially. You both were tired.

“Aw, she is like a little boss.” He cooed thinking it actually was really cute Teddy ran the show. She wasn’t spoiled you’d say. Maybe she was by the Alexander-Arnold boys but it was more the fact that she couldn’t do anything for herself so she was in charge. It could also be her chubby cheeks, puppy dog eyes, and little pink pout but that’s besides the point.

“Goodnight, baby.” You extended your neck up to reach for him and kissed his lips before settling in to get to sleep.

“Goodnight, skipper” He joked so you playfully slapped at his chest again. “I love you so much.” he kissed your head and you dozed off in your favorite place in the whole entire world.

“Mmmm that feels so good, baby.” You woke up feeling Trents lips on your back. He pushed your silk camisole up beyond your shoulder blades. He placed kisses slow and methodically down your spine. You laid on your stomach with your face to the side pressed into your pillow.

“Morning, beautiful.” He muttered in between kisses. He was moving slow and it was actually kind of tortuous until his fingers dragged down the outside of your thigh. You hummed as he dragged them over the back, sending chills through your body. Before you knew it he was drawing slow circles against your covered clit. Your back arched and you turned your face into the pillow to stop yourself moaning from something so small. You could hear him puff out a short laugh amused with himself and his ability. He knew your body probably better than you did. He definitely liked it more. He reveled in how responsive you were to his touch. His long finger slipped under the hem of your thong pulling your panties to the side to toy with you. “This wet just f’me, pretty girl?” He asked you simultaneously working his fingers. You let out a moan he could hear clearly now. “That a yes? Gotta tell me.” He spoked slipping two fingers inside of you easily.

“Jesus, oh my god, yes. Just for you baby.” You were caught off guard by this morning affair. You had no control right now. Barely awake and face first into the bed. He pulled his fingers out of you suddenly when you thought you might be getting closer to reaching your high. He dragged a trail of your arousal down the inside of your thigh. Trent loved to find himself in between your thighs, lapping his tongue through your folds. He wanted to take care of you, your pleasure was a top priority. It was like a game to him, something he needed to win and conquer. Hearing and feeling you falling apart on his tongue was the best trophy he could ever win. He pulled your hips off the bed and you gasped. “T…” you threatened him with zero backbone. You knew what he was doing. He loved this.

“Shhh, baby. I got you. Just arch your back f’me.” He instructed you and you did but not because he told you but because he licked you completely front to back. “Good girl.” He praised you. He moved to suck at your sensitive throbbing clit before he dragged his tongue back through your folds over your entrance towards your ass.

“Don’t…” You threatened with some real sincerity this time. He laughed and the vibrations made you quiver. You’d gone there. You’d let him too many times you’d even like to admit to Lauren but 7 am in the morning was not the time for that. He listened to you, thank god. He pushed his tongue against you again. His nose bumped against you everytime he moved his jaw. You were shaking. This is not how you thought your morning was going to go.

“Mmmm, so fucking good.” He lewdly slurped the slick from your pussy. You should scold him. You should think he's being overzealous but… you don’t. You moaned. He could feel his dick getting almost painfully hard but that wasn’t his plan of action right now. He’d have to wait. He wanted to get you to a place he loved and you were halfway there moaning for him. He brought his fingers back up and thrusted them inside of you. You whined and pushed back against him. You reached out behind you and grabbed for him. You wiggled your ass back desperate for more. He groaned. This is what he wanted, for you to want this.

“Oh my god, T… please. Please.” You were practically crying for more. You came unannounced and uncontrolled on his tongue. He loved seeing your back arching in pleasure because of him. The way your thighs trembled attempting to hold yourself up. Your face pressed into the pillow but not innocent enough to not try and twist around to be able to see him and admire him. Your slick covering his pink perfect pout.

“My pretty girl. Perfect fucking pussy f’me.” he spoke pulling away for a moment still letting his fingers work nimbly inside you stroking the spot he loved to reach. The squelch of your wet pussy was embarrassing but it felt too good to care. His free hand massaged the fat of your ass. This didn’t merit any embarrassment but you still couldn’t believe he gets you like this. Your legs were actively shaking.

“I’m gonna cum, T… fuck. You’re gonna make me cum again.” you whined his name quivering as your juices dripped down his hand. He slaps your ass and the sting shocked you back into reality for a moment. He smugly laughed and placed his lips to your clit again. A shudder ran down your spine. Your pussy couldn’t handle this. You clenched around his fingers. He moaned against you at the tightness. He continued swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. You repeated his name like a prayer as a second orgasm tore through you. He continued his movements like he wanted a third. You whined way too overstimulated for that. You attempted to move away from him and slap your arm at him but just crashed onto the mattress unable to achieve any of that. He decided to let you come down from your high instead, kissing your ass cheek. He removed his fingers slowly from you but just moved his soaked digits up to rub your clit in soft circles.

“So fucking beautiful like this.” He cooed. You let out one final whine before he totally took his hand away from you. He kissed the small of your back, his big hands moving to massage your hips.

“Oh my g…” you tried to talk but were cut off with a harsh slap to your ass.

“Let’s go.” He quipped with a laugh as if he didn’t just devour you. You blinked your eyes a few times attempting to come back to the room. You propped yourself onto your forearms. Your heart was still racing but you at least had most of your senses back. You hear Teddy through the monitor. “Do you want me to get her?” He cheekily asked and you just rolled your eyes at him dropping back into the bed with a sigh.

He brought Teddy back into your bedroom. You had to get ready for the day and after your morning you needed to shower. You were going down to London with your mum. Trent didn’t have training till later in the day so he let you get started and walked around the room with Teddy playing games with her bouncing her up and down. That was until he walked past the dresser and clocked a business card tucked under a notebook of yours.

“Who’s Bentley Brown?” Trent called to you from outside the ensuite with Teddy in one arm picking up the business card in the other. You’d forgotten you even got it and had thrown it in with your planner.

“Some man I met.” You responded without thinking. You were in the middle of doing your makeup. It wasn’t really the time you wanted to get into the whole in depth conversation you had with him. You were focused on getting your brows to look just right.

“What?” Trent asked you very blunt and short. You picked up on his offense to your vagueness but he didn't know you were talking about a 65 year old man at the airport helping you with your bags and not a handsome 26 year old lad you’d met outside a pub.

“He was cute, as well.” You pretended to gush about this anonymous man you’d met. You decided it’d be a little funny to tease considering Trent was the only reason the man spoke to you more. Trent’s brow furrowed confused why you were so open about talking with another guy. “Google him” you cooed, setting him up. He picked up his phone immediately and typed away.

“Oh… very funny.” He rolled his eyes, annoyed he fell for your silly joke. “Mummy is so funny, Ted, huh?” he shook his head at her before placing a kiss on her forehead. “I know this geezer” he yelled out to you.

“Yeah, I know.” You giggled. “That’s the only reason I spoke with him.” you explained. Trent came into the bathroom and put Teddy on the bathroom counter in front of you. She sat kicking her legs as you squeezed at her chubby tummy.

“Gonna miss you, beautiful” he kissed your cheek, hugging you from behind. You turned your head to give him a kiss on his lips in return.

“It’s only for the day.” You whispered, ghosting your lips over his centimeters apart before turning your head back to continue your makeup and Teddy.

“I know but me alone with the boss” He watched you carefully apply a lip liner with one hand. He flicked his gaze to see Teddy smiling at you also mesmerized by your precision.

“And your mum… “ You cut him off with a giggle, stopping for a moment and staring at him through the mirror.

“And my mum… but I don’t know, we’ll miss you. Right, baby bear? We’ll miss mummy all day.” he cooed, kissing your cheek again and then Teddys.

“I’ll miss you both” you grabbed Teddy off the counter and leaned back into him.

Your mum had flown into Liverpool and you were meant to meet her at Lime Street to take the train to London with her. It made no sense at all. When she left tonight, she was flying out of London as well. She expressed how badly she wanted to see Trent and Teddy but ‘couldn’t stay’ she was meeting your dad in Marbella for some holiday. You didn’t really understand but she at least offered to come with you to go to your first appointment to look at wedding dresses.

You remember hiding your relationship from her and your whole family when you first flew to Liverpool. Lauren came to your apartment before you even went to visit Trent confused where you had been, you’d been that MIA before you were even out of the country. Once you got over to England it was like you disappeared. Your friends were blowing up your phone asking you where you were but you just read the messages as you looked at Trent with heart eyes next to you in bed. Trent was cautious but definitely bolder when it came to admitting he wanted you to be his girlfriend, telling you he loved you. He was out in the open about it. You were scared. So telling everyone you knew you loved a boy you met that just so happened to be your celebrity crush. You thought your friends and family would roll their eyes thinking you were getting played. You had good intuition though. People always say they can read others well. You never say that but you really could. You could tell out the gate Trent was genuine and that’s what was so scary. His words and actions did nothing but reassure you. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone loved you the way he did. Everything he did to and for you was so genuine all the time. He touched you in ways, literally and figuratively, no one else ever had or could. He was in love with you. He did things for you he’d never done for anyone else before and put you before everything. You were the most important person to him and that was how you got here on the train sitting across from your mum passing through rolling hills and small towns on the way to London.

“So no venue yet but we want the dress?” She spoke looking at you. You could feel her inspecting every single pore on your face. She meant well she just wanted the best out of you all the time.

“Mum…I’m just getting the ball rolling. I thought it’d get me excited, motivated to start looking.” you tried to explain as calmly as possible. You kept your voice low and slow but inside you were not surprised at all by her.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry you’re right.” She waved her hands dismissing her first comment. “but I still do think we need to do Gurneys” She followed up just reinserting herself about selecting a venue she preferred.

“I know what you think but it’s not we” You paused gesturing between the two of you. “It’s me and T. It’s our wedding. I want it to fit us, reflect us.” She nodded like she understood but kept talking anyways.You actually did always want to get married there but you needed her to understand you wanted to not for any other reason.

“So what date would you do if you’re going to be out east?” She asked. ‘Out East’ is what you called the beach for context. You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “You couldn’t possibly do it midsummer, your makeup would drip right off but with his schedule…” She rambled. She was essentially talking to herself, that's how little you were entertaining her. You understood all of the logistical hurdles you’d have to handle considering you were marrying a footballer you didn’t need anyone to remind you.

“Mum please.” You, as kindly as you could, asked her to stop once and for all, at least on this ride. She rolled her eyes the exact same way you did. A third party would probably laugh at how similar your features and mannerisms were. You opened your phone to read your texts, one from Trent that was a picture of Teddy.

‘Missing mummy xx’ you smiled and then one from Winnie

‘Have fun lol’ You knew she sent it to tease you. Your mum had been ranting to Winnie everytime she couldn’t get a hold of you on the phone to talk about the wedding. Winnie knew preemptively that your train ride would be filled with just this type of conversation.

You got into London and were able to walk to Halfpenny, a bespoke bridal salon. Your mum actually knew Kate Halfpenny through a friend of a friend of a friend, they met at some gala. Regardless, since you heard the name ages ago her dresses had been pinned in your mind to remember for when you did get married. It just sort of fit though and you thought it’d be nice to wear an English designer if you were going to get married in America. You probably wanted to wear more than one dress on the weekend but that was a topic for later. You stood on a pedestal in the changing room of the atelier and had tried on about 10 styles of dresses. If you did like one from Halfpenny you kind of wanted it to be bespoke but this would help get you started on what looked right. The first dress you tried on almost made you feel sick. It was bizarre seeing yourself in a wedding dress. You felt 5 years old like you were dressing up but you weren’t. When you got to the eleventh a warmth came over you as you stepped into the fabric. Your heart slowed as the stylist in the room with you zipped it up.

“Oh my god.” You felt your eyes water looking back at yourself in the mirror. Your breath completely left your chest. “Mum…” You croaked out barely above a whisper. The stylist peeled back a curtain for you to walk out for your mum. She was sat on a couch drinking a glass of champagne. She looked quintessentially her.

“Oh my baby girl. Now this….this was made for you.” She cooed. Your eyes watered more hearing her compliment. Her approval. She got up from her seat, placing her glass down and stood behind you in the mirror. She slid her hands around your waistline stretching her thumb and index finger as if she was measuring you but you couldn’t even process that when she started speaking again. “He was made for you Y/N. This is the one for both of your special days.” You sniffled. You were shocked she felt this way. You were surprised she actually listened and acknowledged it was your and Trent’s day.

“I think so too.” You cried with a little bit of a giggle. “Sorry.” You apologized, wiping your tears away. You really hadn’t anticipated finding anything close to something you actually wanted to wear on your wedding day. You left the salon with a lot of information about possible alterations you could make to the dress, things that could make it yours* You wanted this dress, it felt right but you needed a moment to have a think about it. You didn’t want to pull the trigger just yet.

“Are you happy hun?” Your mum asked as she held your hand in the black cab as you made your way to a late lunch at Claridge’s a little further in towards Mayfair. You nodded. You sat across from your mum inspecting photos she had taken of you in the dress.

“I don’t want to tell him I found one in case it jinxes things so don’t tell anyone.” You explained to her without looking up from your phone.

“I haven’t kept a secret in years.” She laughed. Her admission was probably very true. “We haven’t had secrets in years.” she cooed, reaching her hand out across the table to grab yours. You flashed your eyes up to hers. She looked sad but in a sentimental way.

“Well,” You cut the emotional moment. “Then it’s only fitting.” You picked up your champagne glass and stuck out your pinky unfolding it from the stem of the glass. Your grandmother always used to do that with your mum when they agreed on something. You linked pinkies clinking your glasses. Always with a drink, always with a secret, always with a coy smirk. She returned the smile back at you appreciating your gesture.

You and your mum parted ways and you were on your way back to your little family up north. Trent had gone to training so Dianne watched Teddy but he was back home now waiting for you. You could’ve stayed down in London but you wanted to get home and see them. You also didn’t want to put Dianne or anyone else you leaned on to take care of Teddy while Trent had training. Your uber dropped you off and you walked in through the side door of the house. Trent was on the couch with Teddy when he heard the alarm for the door opening beep. Teddy’s eyes widened noticing the sound.

“Is that mummy? Hmmm?” He asked.Her face beamed excitedly recognizing the word. “Yeah, we are excited mama’s home.” Trent stood up with her. You almost squealed seeing them. You didn’t think you’d feel emotional leaving for a day. You put your bag on the table and ran towards Teddy. She let out the squeal you were feeling.

“Hii my Teddy bear. You look even more beautiful than when I left you. How do you do that?! Give me a kiss.” you pursed your lips and she did her best imitation. “Mwah!” You kissed her. Trent gestured his hands as if he had been waiting patiently. “Oh and a kiss for daddy. Hi.” you sighed leaning into his chest.

“Missed you” he pulled you into him swaying back and forth. “She’s been so chatty, today.” He informed you.

“Oh wow, really? Daddy talks a lot. huh?” you pinched her cheek and listened as she in fact did seem to be babbling a lot of ‘bah’ and ‘pah’ sounds lately but you didn’t miss the chance to poke fun at Trent, the certified yapper. He ignored you.

“Yeah. Like non stop ‘bah, bah, bah’” Trent impersonated her including a sloppy kiss onto your cheek. You laughed and pushed at his chest to get him off of you.

“So accurate… Thank you.” You giggled, wiping his slobber off of your face. Teddy’s kisses were cute but if you weren’t helping her or guiding them… the unannounced ones were wet. More of a raspberry effect. She didn’t totally get it just yet. Her mouth was open a lot of the time. She loved to try to copy you and Trent. She would randomly try to kiss you the same way you did to each other but you just found yourself with her mouth over your nose or her lips sucking on your cheeks just drooling on you. She wanted to try to replicate the sound but failed miserably and adorably

“Need to change you, Yeah?” you asked Teddy, flicking your eyes to Trent. “Daddy’s so nice waiting for me to come home to do it.” Trent tried to talk and explain he didn’t realize but you just shook your head and proceeded upstairs unbothered. You actually didn’t mind that’s how much you missed her. You were just giving him a hard time. You walked into her nursery and set her down on the changing table but she reached out her chubby arms trying to grab for you.

“Did you miss mummy, Ted? Because I missed you so much.” You spoke to her. You picked her up and gave her a big hug swirling her around before returning her to the place you needed her. She continued to coo. “You’re so sweet, baby.” She happily kicked her legs. You were on autopilot.

“Mamba” she grabbed for you again with her tiny hands.

“What baby?” You asked her wide eyed. Your heart practically stopped beating.

“Mama” She cooed again more concretely and clearly attempting to move towards you. Your eyes welled up immediately. You started to cry with a pout looking down at her. She just stared up at you like she’d done nothing. She clutched onto your shirt hugging the material to her little body.

“T! You yelled tearfully. She said it once more when you heard his footsteps sprinting up your staircase. You weren’t in the frame of mind to tell him everything was more than okay.

“What’s wrong?” He rushed into the room grabbing the doorframe to swing in. “Fuck! Sorry. What happened?” He scanned the room frantically. You stood by her changing table stroking her cheek with tears in your eyes as she just stared at him innocently. You turned your body towards him.

“She said mama. Like her first word was mama. She said mama first. Oh my god, I really thought she’d say daddy.” You cooed tearfully as Trent waked over closer to you listening intently making sure nothing was actually wrong.

“Oh my days! Shut up!” He first reacted excitedly, leaning his head onto your shoulder to look at Teddy in all her first word glory. It was a millisecond later that he registered what you said. “Thank you for rubbing it in by the way. But wait really?” he laughed and then questioned you if she really did. Recently she was getting close to a lot of ‘almost’ words. He crouched down to her and picked her up. You put your arm on his shoulder, looking at both of them. “Did you say your first word, smart girl?” He asked her.

“Sorry! Sorry! Oh, now I feel bad but I’m so excited.” You pressed your face into the nape of his neck. You giggled a little not meaning to offend him. He kissed your hair and held you with his free arm.

“Be excited. She loves you so much, I told you she does. Don’t you love mummy, Ted?” He asked her with a big smile. Seeing both your faces covered in joy and excitement was compelling enough for her to give it another go.

“Mama” She squealed again, liking your reaction to her. She reached for you. Trent blew raspberries on her stomach, not letting her get to you teasingly. He stopped for a moment amid her giggles though and pouted happy to hear her talking.

“Yeah! Good girl. It’s Mama and dada.” You kissed her cheek as she wiggled in his arms repeating the word loving the attention.

“So smart already, baby bear. Do you want to say daddy now? Trent asked selfishly. You rolled your eyes. He was genuinely excited for her and for you but he loved to win. He wanted to be first.

“No! We’re happy like this.” You giggled. You snatched her from Trent. You gave her a big kiss on the lips as you spun around holding her. “Mwah!’ Mama loves you so much, Teddy girl.”

“Wow…..” he folded his arms but felt like his heart was going to explode. Of course, he was a little jealous but seeing you with her, seeing that smile on your face, seeing the big smile on Teddy’s face, this is all he wanted for you. For your family. These moments. You laid on a soft pink play mat on the floor with her.

“Come lay dada!” you beckoned him down to sit with you. He groaned having to bend down complaining he was ‘sore from footie.’ You laid on the floor of her nursery mesmerized by the two syllables babbling from her perfectly pink pout. ‘Mama’ again and again. You never got tired of it. Teddy tired out quick though so you set her up for her nap and headed down stairs once she was fast asleep.

You and Trent made your way to the cinema to watch something. You didn’t really care what he chose. You sat with your legs criss crossed on the couch while you worked on your Mac emailing about wedding things. Researching. Planning. Organizing.

“Baby I think we need to split the wedding up between two places.” You cooed, scrolling through a mock itinerary you made.

“Oh yeah? What do you mean?” He looked at you intrigued. Trent slid over and squished next to you wrapping his arm around you. He rested his head onto your shoulder to look at your screen with you. You smiled excited to show him.

“Okay, so we do Manhattan one day and then Montauk the next. But” you emphasized for him to not respond yet, you had more to say. “I was thinking we can do a fun play on words thing though for like invites or napkins or whatever… you get it.” His brow furrowed watching your mouth move but not understanding fully. “From Manhattan to Merseyside… It’s good right?” you asked, bright eyes turning to him.

“Clever girl” He kissed your lips. You asked him what he thought and he was quiet for a moment. “I actually really like it but it’s whatever you want. One question though, napkins… explain that to me?” You laughed and kissed him. Bless. He didn’t spend his time as a teenager online thinking about his wedding and what cute graphic would be embossed on the cocktail hour napkins the way you did. So you explained and showed him.

“Okay, so we’ll do me and you and Teddy at city hall…here, just us.” You started burning through the docket of how you wanted the sequence of events to go. “We’ll fly to New York. Then do a big lunch at Tavern On The Green, right?” you looked at him for approval but you could’ve said the moon and he would have agreed with a smile. “That night.” you paused continuing to scroll to the next page of your document. “A party at The Plaza, of course.” He hummed. “Next day, we can go out to Montauk and have the actual ceremony at Gurneys like my mum wants, then just an easy intimate dinner at my parents, just our people.” You finished taking a deep breath. You really loved the idea of having the reception at your parents. You and Trent were private so as much as you wanted to have a blowout you wanted it to be with people you loved and trusted. You’d seen massive parties your parents had thrown at your house before overlooking the beach and they were perfection but you loved the challenge of out doing your mum.

“Yeah, I’m into that. Just our people and us.” He kissed your temple while examining your document again reaching over you to scroll. “What’s the vibe like?” He asked. He obviously knew all the places you were talking about, you’d been together but he wanted to know the overarching theme. He knew better than to use that word though. You emphasized early that you personally did not like a themed wedding.

“Okay, like very…” You rambled about 15 adjectives describing your dream wedding ranging with the juxtapositions of “coastal but city” and then “chic but relaxed.” He listened intently. “You get it. That je ne sais quoi.” you gestured with your hands.

“Gonna have to give me visual aids here I think.” he laughed, squeezing your hip. “ but it sounds good, sounds perfect, baby.” You tilted your head to look up at him to make sure he actually meant it. You wanted to plan this together. He wanted you to take the reins but you wanted his input. You just had built a mock structure but the details, the things that made it intimately him and you, you needed him, the things that mattered.

“Do you want a dress code? I can’t decide.” You asked with a perplexed look he loved. He liked when you were in thought. Not in a patronizing way, it just was really cute. He saw it on your first date as he made you guess what was in the cocktail he ordered. Trent smiled watching you. “What?” You asked shyly, confused why he was looking at you like that.

“I’m glad you're finally excited.” he cooed, admiring you.

“I always was.” You shrugged. You were. It was amazing from day dot. You felt bad he thought you weren’t.

“Nah, now you're proper into it. What changed?” He asked. His big hand coming to grab your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“Want to know?” You giggled. You were never very good at keeping secrets from him anyways. He nodded, brushing his nose against yours. Encasing you in his scent. “I think I found a dress.” you told him quietly.

“Oh baby.. can I see?” He asked naively. You showed him what you bought or had tried on at shops more often than not. He’d sit in person or facetime nodding as you rambled on about why you pick one color over another and he liked it. He liked listening to you.

“Erm no? That’s not how this works.” You giggled at him forgetting that was traditionally he wasn’t meant to see your dress until the day of your wedding.

“Yeah, but I want to see. Oh my days…” He interrupted his own thoughts with an intruding one. “What are you gonna wear under it that night?” He groaned, working himself up getting ahead of things.He pulled you by your waist closer into him.

“Something.. you’ll have to wait and find out… maybe nothing” you cheekily replied. He groaned, pressing a kiss onto your temple.

“You’re my fucking dream girl.” He rolled his head back onto the cushion and watched you continue to work on the computer with a smile. He loved you. He loved that he was able to make you happy.

Days of ‘mama’ on repeat continued but ‘no’ had also been introduced into Teddy’s vocabulary. It varied from ‘na’ to ‘nob’ or ‘nap’ but you could tell by the facial expression she wanted to say a clear ‘no.’ Tent had gone to training but had to stay late so by the time he came home it was pretty close to Teddy's bed time. Once you started following a bedtime and nap routine, Teddy was sleeping a lot better at night and was taking much longer naps during the day. You were laying in your bed with her. You had just given her a bath before you began her routine you were adamant about keeping for your own sanity. You were just having a cuddle first when a voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Whose in my bed!?!?” Trent came into your room and honestly you didn’t even hear him come home. It scared you. You placed your hand over your heart trying to make sure it was still beating normally.

“Mama!” Teddy yelled. She crawled to you excited to show Trent she knew what the word meant. You pulled her into you and gave her a tight hug and hummed.

“Mama that’s right. Good girl.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Yeah, mama and who else?” Trent asked, putting his stuff down and walking to the bed. “Is my baby bear here?” He asked as he searched around the bed purposely avoiding her as she tried to get his attention. He picked up pillows and moved you a little even. “Mummy, is Teddy here in dada’s bed?” he asked you and you just shrugged with a smile. Teddy fumbled her way over to try to get to his side of the bed crawling, struggling over the bedding like it was a mountain but she managed to grab at his arm. “There she is! My sleepy girl. It’s almost bedtime, yeah?” he continued talking. She giggled but yawned. He faked a yawn himself to tell her that’s what time it was. That daddy was tired too. You moved closer to them on the bed and you cupped Trent’s cheek and kissed him. Teddy almost instantaneously objected with a ‘na’ noise, her little hand reaching for Trent’s face.

“No? Mummy wants to kiss daddy though. We missed him, didn’t we?” you asked her as Trent pulled her in closer to him. He adjusted her in his arms leaning his forehead against hers.

“Did you miss dada?” He asked before he gave her a kiss with her favorite ‘mwah’ sound then all was right in the world because she got a kiss from him as well. “Mmmm. Thank you.” he hummed after she returned it. She nuzzled her cheek against the cotton of his shirt. You caught up about his day but it wasn’t long before you noticed she had already dozed off. “Is it weird that I like that way she smells?” He laughed kissing her. It was so special to see him as a dad. You always knew he’d been good with kids but seeing it first hand, it being his child was so different.

“No, I get it.” You giggled fully understanding him. “I definitely get it.” you cooed kissing her on the head.

It was a hectic week. Everyone was visiting. This weekend was Teddy’s first birthday which in itself had your brain completely scrambled and just for fun, to make things that much more interesting one of the biggest games of Trent’s season coincided with it. Conveniently the Manchester City Liverpool game was at Anfield the Saturday before you had planned to have a party with family and friends for her.

“Come on my big girl! Let’s go see dada.” You grunted picking up her heavy 20ish pound weight from her seat to go sit outside for the start of warm ups. You stroked your thumb over her cheek that had a little bit of the yogurt she had just managed to get literally everywhere. You definitely couldn’t sit outside with her for the full 90 but you could come in and out if she was in your arms and there was food involved, yogurt the first of many snacks.

“Hiiyaaa!” You cooed while walking out into the open air seats of the box seeing George and Tyler.

“Who is that big girl?” Tyler asked standing up to give you a hug. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re all good. Just hoping this result goes our way or tomorrow will not be fun.” you laughed. Trent would be fine but the thought of him coming off a loss and having to go to your one year olds birthday with all those people at your house wasn't great. You sat down and placed teddy on your knee. “Do you see dada?” you asked her pointing in front of her to follow your finger. She definitely couldn't process what was happening or make out that it was him but you still did it. Trent looked for you between drills and blew a kiss. “Dada loves you so much. Huh?” you cooed to her kissing her temple.

“Doesn’t do that when it’s just me here.” George quipped. He leaned back in his seat pretending to be annoyed.

“When is it ever just you here… like when?” you asked, teasing him because you weren’t sure there’d ever been to a game either you or an immediate Alexander-Arnold family member was at in the last almost 4 years.

“Relax, you got the ring, you had the baby, I’m not competing with you anymore, you don’t have to worry if I’m at his games and you're not.” George made fun of you. Tyler laughed. George was amazing. He adjusted well to the fact that he went on holiday with his best friend and Trent had returned with you and you’d never been apart really since. It was a joke though constantly who knew Trent better, who he liked more, stupid stuff like that but he waved his white flag after your engagement. It was just purely banter.

“Never were in the race, George, you were never even in the race.” You teased, patting his knee jokingly patronizing him.

“Ted, are you excited to be one year old?” George asked as he tried to pick her up off of your lap to come and sit with him. She wiggled in his grasp trying to grab back for you though. “No? You don’t want to be one? Don’t worry mate, I don’t want to be turning twenty six either.” He told her. George had a birthday a few days after Teddy’s which was cute in theory but you did feel bad that last year she kind of stole his best friend. Trent had just had a child at the very beginning of his season, things were busy to say the least so George’s birthday wasn’t really celebrated the same way they had in the past.

“Mama!” Teddy cooed as she wiggled more and more adamantly trying to get back to you.

“Oh… she just doesn’t like me, got it. It’s because I’m almost 26 innit?” George joked, handing her back to you. She clung to you as if she had been away from months, not momentarily still only an arms length away.

“Don’t say that! She just loves mummy, huh? Gimme a kiss, Ted.” You asked her. Her grubby hands gripped both your cheeks. “Mwah!” you kissed her lips but in her attempt to imitate you she just practically spit onto your face.

“See, that’s… that’s lovely that… That is enough for me to wear a condom.” George quipped with a laugh.

“George! Don’t say that in front of my baby!” you yelled at him. Cupping your hands over Teddy’s ears. It wasn’t like he actually said anything bad you were just being dramatic but you definitely didn’t want Teddy's third word to be condom, but that would be far fetched.

“I’m teaching her about safe sex! Her parents clearly don’t understand how that works.” George made fun of you looking at Tyler for some back up. He wasn’t wrong. I mean you understood safe sex in regards to health and STD checks or other partners pre trent but from the night you met to date… ‘pulling out’ wasn’t really something either of you enjoyed. You were tempting fate every time. “I'm kidding! I’m kidding! Relax!” He teased you.

“You’re right she doesn’t like you and it is because you’re almost 26.” you chirped back at him snidely just as Teddy reached out to inspect what he was holding. It was only his phone but his case caught the light enough to catch her attention. “Oh Ted…” you cooed disappointedly. Her leaning back towards him kind of debunked your comment that she didn’t like him, which wasn’t true to begin with. She was so cute and open minded. She wanted to be held by you. Be right where she could feel you but she wanted to explore at the same time and you liked that she was curious.

The final whistle blew. A draw. It wasn’t the result you had hoped for. It definitely wasn’t the result Trent had wanted but he was fine, just disappointed. You went home from Anfield and went through your family’s normal post match routine but as Trent was winding down you we're finishing a few things downstairs for Teddy’s birthday tomorrow. You had wrapped all her gifts, you had the party planner coming over tomorrow morning to set up in your back garden so you wanted to make sure what she needed was ready, you had written Trent a little note thanking him for the best year of your life and giving you Teddy, you also set up your dining room table to be decorated for her breakfast tomorrow, stuff like that.

“Can you believe a year ago you had our baby?” He asked half asleep. When you woke up Sunday, Trent was absolutely exhausted. He cuddled into you laying on top of you practically with his face in your boobs. You hummed “Thank you, beautiful.” He muffled out into your chest.

“I guess you're welcome.” you giggled. “I mean you were there as well.” you cooed stroking his high cheekbone.

“Nah, baby. You do so much more than you give yourself credit for. You carried her for 9 months, you gave birth to her, you’ve been the most incredible mother to her for a whole year. I mean look how smart and beautiful and kind and happy she is. That’s because of you. I know I’m not at home with you two as much as I wish I could be but honestly, baby, you’re amazing. You’re the most supportive partner. I cannot wait to marry you. Thank you for everything you do for her, for me, for us. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. You’re such a good mummy like you don’t understand what it’s like to watch you with her…” He kept babbling on and on talking like he didn’t have an off button but his voice was slow, tired, and sleepy.

“Go back to sleep, baby.” You whispered into his hair, placing a kiss. You appreciated all the love and you felt the exact same way about how he was as a dad but he was so tired. He needed to get some more sleep before people swarmed your house for the party.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, a sleepy haze beginning to fall back over him. You massaged his back with one hand the best you could. “I’d do it all over again, just the same.” he mumbled again and then he was out cold.

“Good morning my beautiful baby girl.” You cooed standing above Teddy’s crib. She sleepily in the most adorable way ever rubbed her hands over eyes. “Are you one years old today?” You sang leaning over to smush a kiss onto her. You picked her up in her cute little pink onesie slow and steady bringing her up into your chest. She laid her head onto your shoulder but reached her tiny hand out for Trent next to you.

“Happy birthday baby bear. You’re such a big girl now. Can you stop getting so old please?” He cooed with a little laugh. You did your morning routine with her and then carried her downstairs. “Aw baby this is nice.” Trent turned to look at you now holding Teddy. “What do you think of all the balloons, Ted?” He asked her tapping at one hover at their height. You covered the dining room in balloons and decorations.

“Yeah, it’s sweet. I know she won't remember but it matters to me.” You spoke as you worked your way through the breakfast you were cooking for them. They sat at the table playing some variation of peek-a-boo. You finished and brought Trent his plate, omelet, sausage, little bit of fruit, and one pancake. You walked back to the kitchen before Trent could even say thank you to grab the plate you made for Teddy. You had stacked pancakes and put a few birthday candles in it. Trent pouted as you brought it to her. You were really good for them. You put time into taking care of this family. You sang happy birthday to her and she clapped along before you helped her blow out her candles.

“She might not remember but I will, I remember every little thing you do for us. I won't let her forget how good you are to her. Plus, we have photos to show her” Trent whispered just to you and then kissed your temple. It warmed your heart and made you feel good knowing he noticed how much effort you put in everyday. “Did mummy do a good job?” Trent asked Teddy as she ate one tiny bit of pancake at a time. Trent poked his fork into one of the small pieces and popped it into his mouth. “MMMmmm, good job mummy.” He looked at you with his mouth full. Teddy spread her hand as wide as she could and tried to cover her food. She did not like that he just took a piece. It was so cute watching her develop a personality. You were helping Teddy with her food when Trent slid a small neatly wrapped gift box over to you.

“For Ted? Do you want her to open now? I thought we’d do gifts before everyone came over but…” You asked him confused for a moment.

“Nah.. for mummy.” He corrected you that this gift was not for Teddy. He wiped her chin and she giggled. “Yeah, is this for mama from Teddy?” He asked her and then flicked your eyes to you. You pouted unwrapping it with tears filling your lash line.

‘Thank you for bringing me into the world and all you’ve done since. You’re the best mummy. You make daddy and I so happy. I love you more and more everyday. xx Always your Teddy.

“You okay?” Trent asked you softly, letting you have a moment first. It was a small gold teddy bear necklace. It was adorable yet chic. You couldn’t wait to put it on. It’d look amazing with the current stack you’d been wearing but that wasn’t really got you. He was so good to you.

“Sorry I didn’t think I’d be this emotional today.” Him writing a little note from your daughter just about shattered your heart. You couldn’t believe you had a whole family. “When did this all happen? I have a child, T. I had a child. “ You pointed out the obvious to him.

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed. “I was there for the whole thing. Start to finish, quite literally.” He joked, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I love you so much. I’m so happy this all did happen.” he cooed.

“I am so glad this all happened. I love you.” you tearfully got out more words but started to giggle when you felt a tiny hand pull at you. “And you… I love you the most on the planet! Thank you my Teddy bear! Mwah!” you kissed her. “For my necklace. Mwah!” You flicked your gaze to Trent acknowledge him. You kissed her again. “And for making us a family. Mwah!” you kissed her once more as she giggled away excitedly cooing a ‘mama.’

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 14 xx

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

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anothermansjeans · 3 days

Note

Okay so singer reader idea and if you’re not feelin it then that’s okay! But maybe Bye by Ariana Grande. And I imagined it like her and Spencer were together but have been broken up for a couple months and reader comes out w this song and changing the lyrics in the song to “so I grab my stuff, Penny just pulled up in the driveway.” And then they eventually get back together.

THANKS FOR REQUESTING!! ALSO some quick headcanons for this au so it makes more sense: the other 4 songs i mention reader wrote are down bad, the archer, hits different, and stranger and then after this blurb i picture reader wrote feels like !!

cw: hurt/comfort warning :((( spencer self sabotages !!!!! but happy ending :)

wc: 1k

singer!reader masterlist

Heartbreak has always been a real motivator for you when it comes to songwriting. You just hoped this motivator died the moment Spencer came into your life… unfortunately, it didn't.

Something serious happened at the BAU three weeks ago, so serious that Spencer went to your place in a panic and told you it was best if you two stopped your relationship now before anything bad happens. The media still weren't a hundred percent sure who he was, the disguises and staying on the down low really helped with that, and he claimed that's a good thing– it’s good that no one (other than close friends and family) really knew about him and his job. He told you he didn't want you in danger.

And some very small rational part of you knew he was doing the best thing his brain told him to, you were just angry and sad about it all. You love Spencer; that’s a no brainer, but you wish he would have given you the chance to make the decision if it's going to impact you. So, because of the heartbreak of him leaving that night and making absolutely no contact with you afterwards, you kind of went on a rampage with your writing.

The first song was written not even three days after it happened. Penelope pulled up to your place to give you a hug and to let you know that just because Spencer doesn't allow himself to be happy, doesn't mean she will stop being there for you. You love Penelope so much. After the visit though (and a few too many glasses of wine) you kind of threw anything you saw that was Spencer’s into a bag and handed it off to her. You wanted to keep only what was yours, and you didn't want to have to deal with it later; you didn't want to deal with the heartbreak later.

Still a bit buzzed, you decided to start working on some music. Phone recording, and fingers playing the piano, you sang whatever popped in your head.

“So I grab my stuff

Penny just pulled up in the driveway

It's time

Bye-bye

Boy, bye

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah

Bye-bye

I'm takin' what's mine, yeah

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah”

And it was out to stream within the week. You went through a lot of loopholes, long talks with your management, and producers to get it out as soon as possible. When you wrote it, it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue, and that anxious feeling made you loath everything around you. For your own mental health, it was released way before any other song or even mention of a new album. That week that was spent tying up loose ends on your management’s side was a week also full of songwriting, and you were sure you'd have an album by the end of the month.

When the surprise drop happened, people were confused. Supportive, but confused. You normally did a lot of interactions with fans online before or after a release, so your silence was concerning. You proclaimed it was your hermit season, and with that, people (that being friends and family) knew not to bother you. So you could say that when a knock on your door was heard throughout your place, you were hesitant.

You got up and looked through the peephole, sighing when you saw the genius you were still very in love with. It took you a minute to collect yourself– you didn't want to speak to him but all parts of your heart were aching for a moment with Spencer– and you slowly opened the door, seeing the sadness pool in his eyes.

“Uh– h-hi.”

“What are you doing here?” You didn't mean for your words to come out so harsh, and neither did he by the flinch he gave you.

“I wanted to talk to you…” You scoffed and shook your head. This wasn't a good idea. You began to close the door, only to abruptly stop at his voice. “I heard your song.” You stayed still, waiting for him to continue. “And I spoke to Penelope, and everyone on the team and I hate myself for letting you go the way I did and–”

“And what?” You cut him off, practically begging him to give you something to hold on to.

“And I want to try and talk to you about this and do anything I can to try and make this up.”

You softened a bit, and gave a nod, opening your door wider for him to enter. When he did, you motioned at him, “keep going.”

He took a deep breath and gave direct eye contact as he spoke, “I self sabotage, but in addition to that, I’m terrified of anything happening to you.” He waited a moment, clearly collecting his thoughts, “I see what happens to the loved ones of those on my team. I never want that to happen to you.”

“I understand that, but that doesn't give you the right to make the decision to end things without consulting me.”

“And I completely agree and understand.” His words were quick. “I know I’m allowed to be cautious but I should have spoken to you and tried to figure out how you felt on the subject.”

“Exactly.” You stared at each other, and your eyes began to fill with tears. “You are never allowed to do that to me again. Leaving me… safely stranded… I hated it, Spencer, and I love you so much, so you are never allowed to do that again.”

He took that as his in, and tentatively took a step towards you, bringing his hands up to your arms and gently squeezing them. “Never. I love you too, I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You gave a nod and moved closer to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist and feeling his arms engulf you. You waited a moment before speaking, “I wrote four other songs about you.” He hummed in agreement, “and they're all going on the next album.”

He gave a soft chuckle, “I completely understand,” and he left a soft kiss on the top of your head. A huge weight was lifted off of you, and you never felt more at home.

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant @chericherrypie @punksnotdeadbutiam @stillhere197 @laddywitch @httpstoyosi @obi-wansgirl @amandareids

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #singer!reader

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gomapda · 2 days

Text

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 2)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here! | side B (part 1) found here!

author's note:

part two of side b!

the final installment.

it's been a long journey to get here, and any messages or words i read in the tags of the reblogs were a source of comfort for me during these times. i'm glad that my words resonated with even just one of you.

and of course, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

“Noona, I need help.”

Immediately, the older girl closed the book she was reading, a young adult romance novel and turned her attention to him. “You never ask for my help. What’s going on?”

“I… I like Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Jihoon balked. “What? Does everyone know this already?”

“Y/N doesn’t.”

He groaned loudly.

“Are you finally wanting to tell her?”

“I mean, yeah. I—I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I got just the thing for you, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon spent his time trying to come up with some elaborate and dramatic confession (per the advice of his noona). They sat in cafes, picking out different foods that the two of them knew you’d enjoy, scoping out different restaurants, going to the library and her handing him too many romance novels.

After a few weeks, “Noona, you sure this is going to work?”

“Nope.”

“What?! Then why am I doing this?”

“I was just curious to see how much you were willing to do for her. She deserves nothing less than the best, you know,” the girl grinned, now revealing her mischievous side, one that he has never seen before. “Jihoon, you really think that she’s going to want anything that’s a grand gesture?”

“Well. No, but I thought you would know her—”

“Jihoonie, there’s no one that knows her better than you, I think. You probably know her and see her for how she really is. More than she can see herself. All you have to do is just tell her the truth. That’s it.”

“…this was a waste of time.”

She hummed. “Hm, nothing came up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

He could see that she was fidgeting with her fingers. She let out a nervous laugh as she said, “I actually wanted to see whether you still liked me. Whether spending time with me was going to change your mind. Not that I wanted it to! But I didn’t want you to be wishy-washy. She needs stability. She’s already chaotic on her own.”

“You knew I liked you?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Would you have given me a chance?”

“Would you have tried?”

The two of them sat there for a moment, mulling over the weight of the words said between them. But they both knew that there was someone else in their lives who mattered more, who they truly yearned for. If Jihoon and his noona ever pursued something, it would’ve just been them trying to find comfort in each other because they couldn’t have who they wished for. They would’ve tried to shape each other to fit the missing puzzle piece, losing the essence of themselves.

Jihoon and his noona were only mere reflections of who they actually wanted, the illusion created because of how much time was spent together. And that image would’ve faded fast.

“No, I don’t think I would have.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Good luck with him.”

“Yeah… good luck with her. It’ll work out.”

──────────────────

Plenty of people could say that his noona was childish, that she should have picked another route to go down. That it all could’ve been left unsaid. But Jihoon was grateful for her choice to do what she did. Because you didn’t deserve that “what if?”. Neither did he. You both needed to be sure.

And he felt it, walking into the restaurant.

He immediately recognized you, even with your head down. He was so used to seeing you from afar that this was a sight that was unfortunately so familiar to him. He walked forward in hopes of closing the distance between the two of you.

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin said, frantically.

Jihoon held back his laughter, the sight of his hyung flustered a rare occurrence. “Hey, hyung.”

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

He could see that her eyes were screaming: save us. Jihoon wondered if he’d be able to. “Hi, noona.”

Ah, there you went.

Your eyes finally met his.

God, so beautiful.

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

Jihoon was startled. Since when did you curse? And the fuck word too? But it must be a new development considering the other two were making a huge commotion over it. But even in the midst of chastising, you didn’t break eye contact.

“It’s been a while.”

You blinked. “Um. Yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. This was happening.

His brilliant and warm and fiery sun.

The reason behind why his own light exists.

His guide, his inspiration, his hope.

His firefly.

Close enough to reach out and catch.

But not quite yet.

“So, are you all done eating?”

“No, not even close! Only ordered one pajeon, but feel free to order anything that you want! Oppa will be covering,” his noona responded as she motioned for him to take the seat next to you. He did and immediately felt you tense up beside him. Jihoon mentally cursed at himself. He should’ve asked.

He decided to lean back in his chair to try to mimic the body language he hoped from you: relaxed. “Hyung’s the best.”

“One day, I’ll make you spend that idol money of yours.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

You must have recovered from your shock, since you piped up with a, “Wait. Shouldn’t you be careful about eating out? What if someone sees you here? Couldn’t something happen?”

Aw, you were worried for him. “This is a restaurant that’s frequented by SEVENTEEN. This specific table is so far removed in the corner that it’d be hard to get a good look at my face, especially since my back’s to them.”

You looked around and scanned the area, probably noticing the boisterous environment of hweshiks overpowering the casual dining you were partaking in. “Hm. Okay…”

“You worried about me?”

“No, I’m worried I’m going to end up in Dispatch with message requests from sasaeng fans.”

Jihoon felt the color drain from his face. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being here—”

You immediately shook your head. “That was a joke, I guess it was too serious of a reality for it to seem like one. Jihoon, thanks, really. But I’m scary good at ignoring people. Uh… I’m… I’m glad that you’re here. Seriously.” You paused for a moment, probably noticing the tension that he was too aware of. “Because we’re with two weakass eaters so it’s up to us to finish the job. Will you join me on our noble mission?”

He snorted out a ‘yes’ and the table laughed. Your cousin brought up a time where you were crying because you hated wasting food but the dish was too spicy but you were too stubborn to stop eating. You quickly reminded him that he was the one who tapped out first and left a 9-year-old to solve the issue (“Wouldn’t have been a problem for me if you didn’t create one, oppa!”). The four of you spent more time catching up than thinking about what to order until you were all brought back into the reality that you were at a restaurant and ordered nothing but a pajeon and drinks.

The older two let you and Jihoon decide, as you were both pickier eaters than they were. Once the food arrived, you fell into a rhythm of years’ practice. You pushed your portion of fish and beef onto his plate and he pushed his portion of bean sprouts and japchae onto yours. You both split the pork belly serving evenly between the two of you.

His arm would (accidentally) brush against yours but none of the tension remained from earlier. You didn’t retract, you didn’t run away. In fact, you poked his arm for his attention midway in the conversation and he never thought such a small thing could evoke such happiness.

──────────────────

Physical touch was never something that Jihoon craved. In fact, in most cases, he felt negatively towards it. So, the experience of being touch-starved was not something he knew anything about.

That is, until you were gone for two weeks at an academic competition.

Why the hell was an academic competition half a month? And during summer break? What did they expect middle schoolers to do? Solve world hunger with pi? (The number, not the food.)

You were spending your school vacation for the sake of more school.

What a stupid concept.

And you were on the same team as Baek Yunho, the star player of the baseball team and chemistry league. Jihoon saw the way that Yunho would try to come up to you after a game, but you only ever made a beeline towards Jihoon.

He didn’t realize just how much the two of you gravitated towards each other. Between class periods, he’d pinch your nose or flick your forehead or you would attempt to bring him to his knees by pushing your own into the back of his and fail miserably and he would roundhouse kick you in response. If the two of you had the time, you would go over to his house and dig your toes into his ribcage when he totally owned you during a game of Super Smash Bros. And during the summer, usually, you would be sprawled over him, back to back, as he would watch anime or play games on his phone and you would read your summer reading list.

But normal people wouldn’t consider that physical touch.

And yet here he was, genuinely touch-starved, because you were in Daegu with a whole seven days left.

He grumbled under his breath. Another day has gone by without seeing Baek Yunho during practice which meant another day that you were gone. Something that occupied his mind, as he opened the door to his bedroom, swinging his baseball bag onto his bed.

And he heard a loud, “ow!”

He saw you rubbing your knee on his bed, with a pout on your face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

That’s one way to say he missed you.

“I came back from my competition today to apparently get assaulted by my best friend.”

“I thought it was two weeks long.”

“The whole thing is, but I opted out of the award ceremony. Plus, I only competed in the writing and foreign language portion because that’s all they needed me for, which all happened in the first week.”

Jihoon’s mind didn’t catch up with his body as he reached for you. You yelped and threw a pillow at him, “Ew. No, you just got back from practice and you’re sweaty!”

“Firefly, you’re missing out on a rare opportunity.”

You paused for a moment, possibly recalling all the times he’s rejected a hug from you and realizing this indeed was very rare. “Can you at least wipe off your sweat?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jihoon snickered.

It was now a competition to see who would be the faster one, you rushing for the door or his arms. And of course, the athlete that he is, Jihoon won.

“You smell like the sun! Stop!”

He decidedly rubbed his neck into the shoulder of your shirt and you did your best to wiggle away, but failed. Your look of disdain was met with Jihoon’s satisfied one. “Lee Jihoon, you’re the worst.”

“I’m glad my punching bag is back.”

You pushed his hair back only to immediately retract. “Ugh! How does so much sweat just come out of you?”

“Does it matter when I have a towel right here?”

You pinched his ear as he pushed his sweaty forehead against the other shoulder of your shirt. You burst into a fit of giggles when he found your ticklish spot in the middle of your thigh, but soon enough, your ankle found purchase around his and pushed him onto the ground as you clambered away and into his closet, probably to find a shirt to change into.

He was left there on his bedroom floor, listening to your ramblings about his sweat, almost deliriously happy.

He was satisfied, no longer a starving man.

──────────────────

After the food was finished (thanks to the two of you), the four of you walked out of the restaurant, the couple saying they were so full they wanted to walk it off on the way to their hotel. They offered for the two of you to join them but you declined, saying the hotel was in the opposite direction of your home.

Your cousin felt uneasy leaving you to walk home on your own. But you pointed at Jihoon with your thumb and said, “Jihoonie can walk me home, if you’re so worried. But even if he can’t, I’ve lived here long enough. This isn’t anything new.”

As if your cousin completely ignored the latter half of what you said, he glanced at Jihoon who gave a quick nod. “I’ll walk her home. Don’t worry. Then I’ll take a taxi back myself.”

After much long-winded convincing, the two headed off to the hotel while you and him were left walking down the street, his own face masked up and covered with a baseball hat in case of anything.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home.”

“I’d like to, if that’s alright with you.”

He noticed you adjusting the hem of your shirt. “Okay. It’s a little bit of a walk from here. Maybe 30 to 40 minutes or so.”

“That’s 30 to 40 minutes I’d like to spend with you.”

“…yeah. I’d like that too.”

This felt almost surreal. You by his side.

But also so natural, almost inevitable.

As if this was all just waiting to happen.

After a moment’s pause, you asked him what he was doing for the coming months, if there were any plans.

“There’s a concert that Bumzu’s holding in Busan, and he’s asking some SEVENTEEN members to perform, so I’ll be doing a solo piece for that one.”

“Oh, SIMPLE?”

You immediately made a face as if you got caught admitting something embarrassing and Jihoon grinned. “Ah, you know my solo song?”

“Hm. Maybe…” You trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

Cute.

“It might’ve possibly made it as my top song of the year in 2016.”

Agh, even cuter. “I’ll tell Yoon Jeonghan that he’s not actually your bias and you’re actually a Woozidan.”

“You can call me a Woozidan, you’d just be exceedingly and astronomically incorrect, like always. Unlike me, who is right, quite literally 100% of the time.”

Jihoon laughed. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m one of the brains in SEVENTEEN, alright?”

“That’s because you were forged in the fire that was your friendship with me. Of having to deal with my illogical thinking.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth.”

The mood between the two of you was solid and Jihoon felt his resolve flare up within him, gathering the courage to ask, “If I invited you to Bumzu’s concert, would you go?”

“Oh. The one in Busan?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. When is it? I’m supposed to start work in three weeks.”

He wondered how big of a Carat you were because he knew that most would jump at the opportunity, but he felt oddly reassured that you weren’t a fan who would skirt on your responsibilities. “It’s in two weeks. You can… uh, bring Hyejin?”

You blinked up at him. “You know her?”

“She, uh, is always on your Instagram.”

“That’s very sweet of you and she’s gonna freak out that you know her, but she’s actually going to be in Jeonju that entire week with Wheein-unnie because they’re visiting their family. And then none of my other friends know about me knowing you. But. You know what? What kind of Carat would I be if I turned down this offer?”

Great minds think alike. “So… I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you will. I’ll sing the chorus of SIMPLE so loud I’ll overpower even your vocals.”

“You know, I never said I was singing SIMPLE.”

“Oh, what? What are you singing then?”

Jihoon grinned. “Guess you’ll have to come and find out.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow, what an idol. Using your charm to convince me to use up my time and money.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“Enough that my wallet is in constant danger.”

“You know, I can always give you free things.”

“It’s okay. Buying your albums and merchandise and concert tickets have been the only way I can support you. And, well, I did promise I would be your number one fan.”

“‘S alright. That’s all in the past.”

Jihoon noticed you flinching at those words. Your voice was barely above a whisper, “…Is it really all in the past? It’s not that simple, is it, Jihoonie?”

He remained silent.

So did you.

You both walked, the evening stroll accompanied only by the artificial lights of the city, the sun having long since gone to rest and the light of the moon nowhere to be found.

You reached the doorstep of your apartment and you turned back to face him. “I think… We probably have a lot to talk about. But maybe the timing is off right now. I know I need to sort myself out, if that’s okay? I’m trying to do this thing where I think before I talk instead of just diving in and regretting something, you know?”

Jihoon nodded. He was all too familiar with that.

“But I just want to let you know that I still want to be a part of your life. And we can navigate how that will look like when we’re both not caught up in living our lives. Is… is that okay?”

He wanted to cry. “More than that.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you at the concert, Jihoonie.”

“I’ll see you, firefly.”

──────────────────

After that night, he was thrown back into his and SEVENTEEN’s work. Outside of Bumzu’s concert, they were working on their next album, aiming to release it in just two months, the theme centered around a youthful infatuation blossoming into a mature love.

He wondered what you would think of it.

One night, he was in his studio with Soonyoung again who looked over Jihoon’s latest solo for Bumzu’s concert.

“Jihoon, this is the saddest shit I’ve ever read.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Are you sure that this is what you’re wanting to perform? That this is what you want her to hear? In front of hundreds of people?”

“It’s… the most honest I can be. Yeah, it could scare her off. But I don’t think we can keep moving forward without addressing what happened between us. But I didn’t make this song to make her feel bad. I made it so I could let go of the pain I associate with the old her to be able to make space for the new her, you know what I mean?”

Soonyoung spared no expression. “Whatever you think is best, Hoon.”

“I’m just going to take a leap of faith,” Jihoon sighed. There really was no predicting exactly how things would turn out. You were different, he was different. There were too many unknown variables with the situation. “Hopefully she’ll be there to catch me.”

“Mm.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re going to be singing a ballad, pouring your true and genuine feelings, and I’ll be performing Hurricane in a tiger print shirt.”

Jihoon paused for a moment. “Duality of SEVENTEEN.”

──────────────────

You must have also been busy, as the only notification he got from you was on the day of the concert. It was a selfie of you at a gas station in the wee hours of the morning, no doubt filling your tank before your 4 and a half hour car ride, with a message saying, “i’m on my way to you! fueled by overpriced gas and cheap snacks!”

You were on your way. To him.

There was an electricity that was coursing through him that went beyond just nerves before a show. No, there was so much more riding on this, and as much as he wants to believe and trust that everything would work out in some way or another, there is the deep part of him that yearns for it to work out for the best. The most ideal cut.

He pressed his hands against his chest, as he tried to mimic compression.

But there was just too much bursting out of him to truly contain.

“Jihoon-ah, you alright?”

He must have looked like a crazed man to Jeonghan because the latter had an incredulous look on his face as soon as they made eye contact. “Do I not seem alright?”

“No.”

“Hyung.”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle and moved behind him to squeeze the shoulders of the stressed man. “It’s okay to hope, you know.”

“It feels like hope is the reason I can’t breathe right now. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t care this much. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be. Without hope, you wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN. You wouldn't have become an idol, be our unit’s leader, become a producer, written songs, or even had the chance to reconcile with her. All of what you are would’ve been impossible without hope”

Jihoon bit his lip. “I feel like I’m going crazy, hyung. I keep going back and forth between whether it’s worth it. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in years. I know that lo–love–” Jihoon realized he never said that word so directly about her. He always found more poetic ways to dance around the word. “–can be a lot of work. But this? It makes me think that it’s not meant to be. When I see her and when I’m with her, it feels so right. But when she’s not in front of me, I feel like the best thing to do is to just run away.”

“Yeah, but you ran away last time, right?”

“And I wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN if I hadn’t.”

“But you’ve still pined after her for all these years.”

“Maybe that’s just me being stubborn.”

“Yeah, and? What about it?”

“What happens if I’m pining after her because I regret hurting someone I cared about, my best friend. What if I don’t actually love her–”

Jihoon’s voice caught in his throat.

Jeonghan answered in a low whisper, and Jihoon is sure that if he turned around, he would see pity in his older member’s eyes. “Jihoon–”

“No, I know,” he quickly cut him off, sighing. “Ridiculous notion. Hyung, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t understand myself at all. Just yesterday, I was talking a big game about how I needed to trust her and take a leap of faith and now it feels like I’m going back on it.”

“So, you don’t trust her?”

“That’s… not it.”

“Then what is it, Jihoon?”

“I… I can’t…”

“It’s just you and me here.”

Lee Jihoon and Yoon Jeonghan.

The very two people who were in that room together when that fateful encounter on social media occurred.

Yoon Jeonghan, the island of SEVENTEEN.

“What if she doesn’t love me back?”

Jeonghan felt Jihoon’s shoulders tremble underneath his grip. The older began to rub gentle circles and stood there in silence as the younger buried his face in his hands. “...She could.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“What if she does?”

“That’s not–”

“–How it works? Why are your worries more likely than your hope? Are they more logical? More based in reality? Listen, they’re all just thoughts driven by feelings. They both have an equal chance of happening, and yet you are convinced your worries are true. And maybe that’s your fault. Your fault because you keep suppressing your hope in fear of pain and rejection. So that later down the line, you can tell yourself that you knew it anyway. But guess what? This isn’t a game where you’re trying to come out of this as the least hurt.”

Jihoon felt lucky that Jeonghan couldn’t see his face.

“Just think of it as finally being able to let out the entire truth that you’ve been hiding for years, the truth that has been found in your lyrics, but is now finally going to reach the person you’ve hoped for so long that it would. She’ll be right there, listening to you. You’ve wanted it for so long. Don’t try to convince yourself all of a sudden that it’s not.”

“...Yeah.”

“Plus, they already have the line-up and backing vocals set up, so. It’s not like you can change it now. Go put your in-ear in. We’ll be in the audience. All of us.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“...I’m not sure if it means anything, but you’re a good man, Lee Jihoon. I’m proud of you.”

Jeonghan patted the younger’s shoulder before exiting the small space, leaving Jihoon to his own thoughts. Ones that no longer swirled over the possibility of pain or even the potential of reciprocation. Instead, he thought about his members. The ones he’s told he’s loved, both in teasing ways and genuine utterances.

And then he thought of you.

He’d like you to hear the same from him.

At least once.

(And hopefully more.)

──────────────────

Busan’s driving laws were nothing like the rest of Korea.

Luckily growing up in Busan, you were aware of the way that the drivers swerved in and out of lanes, making illegal (?) turns any chance they got. The flow of traffic in Busan is so aggressively different from Seoul, that it felt as though you had to flip a switch to reorient yourself into the version of you that learned how to first drive in Busan.

Not long after the person you were driving to see had stormed out of your home.

You sighed.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the concert.

It felt almost embarrassing how much you daydreamed over him potentially singing a song to you. The reality is dangerously close to overlapping with the delusion that you found yourself trying to literally shake away the thoughts.

But how could you not be a little hopeful?

The love of your life invited you to a concert, with him singing a solo song.

Maybe he’d confess–

The honk of the car behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You groaned loudly, slapping your forehead. “Get it together, Y/N!”

Jihoon had told you to enter the concert hall through a certain entrance, and that you wouldn’t need to wait amongst the lines. He recommended waiting until everyone else was seated, so you would still have 20 minutes to kill before entering the venue.

You drove, mentally fighting yourself every kilometer of the way, until you finally reached the venue. You showed the badge that Jihoon had given you and was directed towards the back lot where staff parked. You cut the engine and sat there, attempting to calm yourself down.

You immediately get a request for FaceTime on your phone.

You answer it.

“Bumblebee!”

“Unnie, I can feel myself eroding away.”

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

You heard Wheein’s voice in the background. “Is that Y/N?”

Hyejin answered, “Yeah. Wanna say something?”

Wheein popped into frame. You gave a weak wave. “Are you gonna confess today?”

“What? No. That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Okay? Then change the plan,” Wheein said, as though it was the most obvious thing.

“I just want to be friends.”

“Forever?” Wheein asked.

“For now,” Hyejin supplied.

You rolled your eyes. “Listen. All I know is that I want to be in his life, and whatever that looks like is still to be determined, alright?”

“But what do you want in the long run?”

“You know I can’t plan for the long-term. Let’s just take things day by day, alright?”

“Okay, but what if he confesses today?” Wheein asked.

“He won’t.”

“What if he does?”

“I–”

Hyejin tapped Wheein’s thigh off-camera. “She’ll handle it if it comes up. No matter what happens, we’ll be here to pick up your call, okay? Whether it be to sort out your feelings or to just fangirl about the concert. We’ll be here to listen to whatever you’re willing to share. There’s not much to do here in Jeonju anyway, so. Just hit us up.”

“Go eat Jeonju bibimbap.”

“We did,” they answered in unison.

You let out a short laugh. “Alright. Well. Regardless of everything, time will continue to pass. I’m going to just bask in the fact that I was invited by a member of my favorite idol group to watch his performance.”

“And that’s already cool as hell,” Wheein nodded.

The three of you chatted about their plans for the week while you did your best to focus on the conversation while still paying attention to the time left until the concert. Not long after, you bid them farewell to once again sit in silence in your car, pressing your hands against your chest.

It was time.

──────────────────

Bumzu’s concert started off as nothing less than spectacular.

You always admired his musical prowess, knowing that he was the one who helped Jihoon form his own identity as a producer and songwriter. Bumzu was a titan in his own right, his lyricism and musicality rivaling plenty of others in the field.

Although his talent is impeccable, the venue itself was small. His transition from performing towards writing and producing had a hand in influencing the number of tickets sold. You also realized belatedly that the concert wasn’t advertised to include the SEVENTEEN members that you were promised.

Regardless, it felt like such an intimate space, you were thankful for it.

You were in the upper gallery, away from the rest of the concert attendees. There wasn’t anyone else nearby you, and you assumed that would stay the case.

That is, until you heard someone sit right next to you.

You glanced over, not wanting to be overt in noticing them (although, Korean culture lends itself to staring at others outside of Seoul and Busan), and you felt your breath hitch.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I–yeah.”

“I recorded a video for you for your graduation,” the most beautifully ethereal man on this side of existence said. “Do you remember?”

“I–yeah.”

He flashed a brilliant grin. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“I–yeah.”

“Congratulations on graduating.”

“I–” This time, his voice overlapped yours. “Yeah.”

You flushed. “Sorry. I’m just– I’m kind of taken aback.”

“I heard I was your favorite member, your bias.”

“Mm. That’s true.”

“Why is that the case?”

You paused for a moment, the vocals of Bumzu drowning out the sounds of your conversation. “They say that your bias is the one who’s most similar to you. And your bias wrecker is the one that you’d most likely want to date or be romantically involved with.”

“Oh, so, we’re similar?”

“In the way that we love others, I think? From what other members have said about you, the way that you love is both wide and deep. You love others in a way where you can be a home for them during times of hardship,” you said, sheepishly. It felt almost strange to claim you were as loving as you were, but. You knew yourself. You knew your heart. Even the bad parts. “Also, we both would cheat at games.”

“It’s the only way to play.”

“Winning is too easy otherwise,” you added.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Well. That makes me feel better.”

“That I cheat at games?”

“No. That you love in the same way that I do. Because if you love Jihoonie as much as I love him, I think I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I do love him,” you said, unhesitantly. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to tell one of Jihoon’s closest confidants this information. But, it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t ever meant to be a secret. It was simply a fact. “There’s no way that I wouldn’t.”

“You… You haven’t doubted your feelings?”

This time you raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I? He’s easy to love.”

Jeonghan laughed. “You’re so right, Y/N. So. Is he your bias wrecker?”

“You mean the one that I want to date?”

“The very same.”

You saw the mischief in his eyes, and you felt yours bubble up inside. “I wonder.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you cheat at games, you don’t seem like a great liar.”

“Who said I was trying to?” You flashed him a toothy grin.

“It’s rather strange to see just how different the two of you are. And also, how human you seem. The way that he talks about you, you’d think otherwise.”

“Unfortunately, being human is all I know,” you said, trying to shove down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach at the mention of Jihoon speaking of you to his precious brothers.

Bumzu was now giving a ment, but you were still so focused on the man next to you.

He crossed his legs and looked out at the stage. He pursed his lips. “Y/N. He’s a bit of a handful sometimes, you know.”

“I’ve got two hands.”

He smirked at that. “Right. That you do. And if you and I really are similar, then. Well. I hope you really listen to what he has to say to you, even if it can be hard to hear. I hope you try to understand him even when he doesn’t make sense. And, of course, I hope you enjoy the rest of your life loving him.”

You felt some tears well up in your eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

Jeonghan looked at you softly and patted your knee. “That’s all I ask.”

He stood up and you gave a slight bow. He smiled and said, “Enjoy the show.”

Bumzu’s voice rang out: “And now, a special guest: WOOZI from SEVENTEEN.”

Your eyes snapped back towards the stage, barely noticing the figure of your bias move back out into the shadows of the concert hall. You were transfixed by the man walking out on stage, his pale skin glowing underneath the stage lights, his black collared shirt hanging loosely on his frame. The cheers could not distract you from the way he gripped and ungripped the microphone in his hand as he sat down on the stool.

He lifted the microphone to his lips and began speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I am SEVENTEEN’s WOOZI.”

His eyes were darting around, but only looking downwards, barely looking at the crowd. “Today, I’m going to sing a song that I’ve only ever sang once. Um. And that was by myself, in my studio. Not even the other members have heard it.”

The crowd were wowed at the prospect of hearing an entirely new song from a genius producer. Seeing the spotlight shine on him, you realize how bare he looked without his other members surrounding him. His vulnerability was amplified by the closer proximity of the space.

You knew he was the kind of person that would lessen the amount of lines he had solely to allow others to shine more. He wasn’t like the sun, the blazing fire that consumed the day. No, he was so much more like the moon, the one that would reflect others’ light, but in such a way that was never accosting.

Even on the stage in front of you, he glowed so ethereally, you wondered if he was always the fae that you believed lived near the winding tree at Old Man Park’s home. He was the guiding light in the midst of night, always present, but in a less overt way than its celestial partner.

The sun was stunning in its own right, life-giving, even, but the moon provided comfort to those who tread in the darkness.

And you’ve seen the way he has done just that.

Not just for you, but for millions around the world.

“This is, uh. A very personal song,” you couldn’t help but notice the way that his grip around his microphone tightened. “I’m not sure if many of you out there have been unsure about what the future holds. But, this song… captures that, I think. This is ‘What Kind of Future’.”

Your reaction to grab your phone to record was immediately cut off by the piano playing.

This… melody?

Your throat tightened. It sounded so similar to the lullaby he would sing–

As if nothing happened I told myself that it was all a dream. When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I wanted to wake up with a relief.

The melody was so familiar, but because of that, you could focus solely on the lyrics he sang.

Was this song… about you?

No, your mind supplied. Don’t be delusional.

But what if it was?

Your heart began to pound loudly in your ears, and you had to take deep breaths so as to not miss anything that he had to say.

Our past that didn't line up If I could go back in time Rather than roughly, but warmly Would I be able to let you go?

Your eyes widened.

You thought back to that moment in your house.

Could it be–?

When we weren't over As I held onto whatever was left You let go of me as I refused Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You immediately recall the desperation on his face and the hurt in his voice that you couldn’t see until it was too late. It was shrouded by his anger and your desire to look away. To run away. Because, to a teen on the cusp of adulthood, that was easier than being honest.

This waiting It's not easy to endure If I forget that someday As if nothing is wrong Our future will be empty and It's not that I want to forget you

You never wanted to forget him.

You couldn’t.

He surrounded you at every turn.

The best parts of you were things that you learned from him.

He softened your rough edges, quieted the inner criticisms, pacified the burning flames.

The idea of him never being a part of your life again was one that you could not fathom, even with all of your imagination. Because there was no way for the current you to exist without him. Not in a way that deemed him necessary, but in a way that his friendship, his love, for you shaped you into becoming someone you, yourself, learned to love as well.

Your future might have been filled with joy and happiness.

His, just as likely to.

But yours and his, as he said, our future, would be empty.

We were happy about us You, who isn't me anymore Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You tried to quell your tears as much as you could, in fear of missing even another moment with him. Because you realize now that the feelings you had were not one-sided. Of course, they couldn’t have been. The way that the two of you stuck by each other through thick and thin.

Why were you so adamant that it couldn’t be true?

What kind of future is coming before us? Even if the Heavens don't give us an answer I'm too stupid until the end So I don't know the answer

The love you had for each other was so simple.

It was so direct, so straight-forward.

But the two of you made it complicated.

Why?

You also didn’t have an answer.

The both of you, burdened by the decisions of the past, anxious about the potential of the future.

As his vocals rang out, as he cried out, the tears finally streamed down your warm cheeks. You buried your face into your hands, listening to his voice, but unable to withstand the sight of him holding his microphone with such gentle, yet firm, hands. The same ones that trembled at his side that fateful day. Your breath staggered as you wept for the past versions of you.

The ones who struggled and constantly questioned whether you were loved by the person you longed for. The ones who somehow convinced themselves that you weren’t, rather than trusting in the obvious truth that you always had been.

And still are.

As the song concluded with his smooth vocals, the crowd erupted into cheers. You raised your head and found him looking longingly up in your direction, and if you weren’t mistaken, at you.

But how could he?

The stage lights were so bright, you were sure it was impossible to see beyond the stage.

But with the way his gaze softened as your bottom lip trembled.

Maybe, just maybe.

As soon as the crowd settled down to a reasonable level, he began speaking again. “Thank you all for attending tonight. Bumzu-hyung is an artist that I admire a lot, so I feel really honored that I was able to share my music here. This song is… both personal and special. And I hope that, maybe, someone out there can understand what I was trying to convey.

“Carats, thank you always for your support. Remember to stay healthy; I’m always wishing for your happiness. We hope that you continue to love and support SEVENTEEN. I’m always humbled by Carat’s love for us, and I really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

He began to fiddle with the microphone in his hands.

“Did you know that…” He trailed off for a moment before he glanced up in your direction. Your breath hitched. “...If you dream of fireflies, they’re supposed to represent guidance and inspiration? Because they’re kind of like a beacon of light in the dark. And according to some, they’re also meant to represent taking a chance at an opportunity that’s right in front of you. And I, uh. I’ve been dreaming of fireflies for a long time. So, I think… that means that it’s time to try and take that chance. I’m not sure what it’ll look like, but…”

He shut his eyes for a moment, tilting his head backwards, looking as though he was allowing the weight of his words to really sink into him. He brought the microphone back up to his lips.

“Thank you again. I hope our future together is one of happiness.”

He gave a slight bow to the audience who cheered loudly for him. He, once again, looked up in your direction. You weren’t sure whether he could see your expression, so instead you lifted your phone screen at its highest brightness, open to the phone dial screen.

If he gave any semblance of acknowledgement, it was imperceptible.

Bumzu was welcomed back to the stage and squeezed Jihoon’s shoulder before the latter excused himself off of the stage.

Almost possessed, you followed suit, leaving the upper gallery to rush towards the restroom, out of earshot and view of anyone else.

Not even a minute later, your phone starts vibrating.

You answer immediately. “That was fast.”

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?”

“Are you… running? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“Meet me outside. Staff parking lot.”

“I–”

“Security cleared it out.”

“Jihoon, I’m not fit like you! I’m not a runner.”

“I’m not asking you to be. I’ll wait for you as long as you need.”

Your heart swelled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll see you soon, firefly.”

The sound of his smile filled your senses as the call ended.

Despite your complaints earlier, your feet were carrying you at a pace you haven’t attempted since your required physical education class. Your eyes were darting around, searching, searching, searching. The adrenaline rushing through your body was enough to keep up your strides. You were rushing forward, and then–

You saw him.

He pushed his hair back, his chest rising up and down, attempting to catch his breath. He was definitely winded from the running. But there was no rest for the weary as your eyes locked. You found yourself barreling forward, not even really thinking of anything other than: him.

And his arms caught you with ease as you slammed yourself into his chest. He spun you around to lessen the impact, but tightened his grip on you. “Firefly–”

“Jihoonie.”

You held each other for a while.

Long enough for both of your breathing to even, for your heart rates to synchronize.

As though making up for lost time.

He adjusted his face just slightly away from the crook of your neck to speak. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the driver, so no shit.”

Jihoon laughed and squeezed you closer to him. You let out a grunt. “You call the shots, firefly.”

You disentangled yourself from him and pulled out your car keys from your person. “Alright, get in, my passenger prince. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, hm?”

──────────────────

“Hi! My name is Y/N. Here’s a seashell!”

The young boy’s expression contorted into one of confusion. You were completely unaffected. He looked around at the empty playground, save for a few pigeons here and there, before pointing to himself. “Are you talking to me?”

You knew for a fact that he was someone that the CU convenience store auntie would call a ‘cutie’. You’d agree! “I’d like to!”

“I’m… I’m Lee Jihoon.”

“Okay, Jihoon! Can we be friends?”

“S-Sure.”

“Awesome!” You clapped your hands together. “I don’t really know what friends do together, but let’s go on the swings! You can sit first and I’ll push you. I’m very strong.”

“No, it’s okay! I can push you—”

“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”

“No, no. That’s not what I said—”

“Get on the swing, Lee Jihoon!”

“O-Okay.”

──────────────────

“Do you remember when I pushed you on the swing so hard that you lurched forward and got a nosebleed from falling onto your face?”

“That was the first day we met, firefly.”

“Well, I wanted to know if you remembered.”

“To the point that it haunts me.”

“You were so small and cute back then. So shy.”

You half expected that the two of you were going to drive in silence, just basking in each other’s presence. But, remaining true to the dynamic you two always had, there was still so much to talk about. You told him about the drive down from Seoul and how Busan really needed to up its driving laws to match the rest of the country. He told you about how Soonyoung just finished performing “Hurricane” on stage and Jeonghan sent him the video.

You told him about how Jeonghan actually approached you.

“Aha.”

You couldn’t turn to see his expression, so you asked, “Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“He, uh. Might’ve witnessed me have a bit of a mental breakdown backstage, so.”

You took his nervous laughter as a sign to not push further. “Honestly, me on any given Tuesday.”

“What, your grad program?”

“Oh, man, I gotta tell you.”

And so the two of you exchanged both stories and banter until you finally saw the shoreline coming into view. Just a couple of moments later, you parked your car along the sidewalk at the edge of the beach. This was a more local area, far away from tourist spots.

“Ah, this place.”

“Lotta memories here,” you said. You shot him a big smile as you turned off the engine. “Let’s go make a new one.”

The two of you exited your car and threw your socks and shoes into the trunk of your car, just like you did with his parents’ car, when you were children.

As you both walked towards the edge of the water, you were very aware of the silence that had fallen onto the two of you.

There was an instinct in you that told you to remain quiet.

“You know,” Jihoon broke the silence. You smiled to yourself. “I’ve always admired how you were able to be so honest about your feelings, without worrying about what other people think.”

“That’s the nice way of saying that I don’t think before I speak.”

He laughed and you relished in it. “Maybe.”

You skipped forward a bit more, letting your toes dig into the now cooled sand, the sun long set. You had your back turned to him as you waited for him to continue speaking.

“I was always someone who kept to himself. Who never really shared my heart with anyone.”

You hummed as you turned to face him directly. “You did in your own way, I think. You just needed people who knew how to read between the lines.”

“I was never honest about the hard stuff though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I constantly asked myself if I was worthy enough to love you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he continued.

“You loved me in such loud ways. You honestly left no room for doubt, and yet my brain managed to squeeze in some anyway. But… you know what I eventually realized?”

“What?”

“I realized that if I were to give myself to anyone, to be safe with anyone in the world, it would be okay if it was you. You’ve always been honest. Your sadness. Your joy. I know I can trust it. Maybe that’s naive considering how long we’ve spent apart. But you’ve never been anything but honest. So this is me trying to do the same. Y/N, my light, my firefly, I love you.”

In his eyes you saw him searching for something, anything. He might’ve not been able to interpret the expression on your face, but there was no need to. You pulled the collar of your shirt down to reveal the ink forever etched into your skin, placed over your heart.

Art that was drawn on a paper towel a decade ago.

You knew even in the dim light of the street lamps high above you, he could see it.

His jaw dropped. “Wait. That’s—”

“I broke one promise in my life. Just one. And I told myself I would never do it again. No matter how stupid the promises were, no matter how mundane, no matter how old they were. I would never break another promise. Because breaking that one promise ended up breaking me. The promise that I’d always be by your side.”

“What are you—?”

“Because it’s you, it’s always been you. Ever since I gave you that stupid seashell from this very beach,” you gestured at your surroundings. “And it was stupid because you could easily get your own, but you kept it. Like it was a precious treasure.”

The rampant beating in your chest matched the rhythm of your words.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Jihoon. I have no idea and I’m terrified. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything. Years at Yale, years at Seoul National, years spent in higher academia only taught me that I know so little. But you, oh, you were the worst reminder. I don’t get how you can make me feel so empty and filled at the same time. I don’t understand how you can make me feel at home with just a smile. I don’t know how you have such a hold on me. You’re just this strange enigma that I can’t seem to place, a riddle with no way to solve. But God, I so badly want to try. You’re a question I want to spend the rest of my life trying to answer. Because it’s you.”

He bit his lip and you wondered if you overwhelmed him.

“I’ve spent years, you know,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Hoping that you would hear me. That my words would reach you,” he breathed out. His eyes softened as he recalled, “‘If a second life that’s different from now is to come to me, will I be by your side? Will you be by my side? I imagine things like this. Even if they’re words I mentioned as a joke. Will you believe me? Even if it’s a funny imagination. On a sudden day when I’m left alone, I’ll take my steps towards you again.’”

He stepped forward, hands reaching for yours, and you immediately took them, as soon as he was an arm’s length away. Physically, this wasn’t the closest he’s ever been, but it was the closest you’ve ever felt.

“‘You did this once before. Only by looking in your eyes I can tell. Whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion. When walking by my side, I don’t even want to let go of your hands. That flattering feeling is because of you, everything is so good.’”

He took another step forward, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, hoping you could hear his words above his heart hammering in his chest.

“‘What can I do? Without you, my heart stops and it’s always cold. What can we do? Without me, you’ll struggle just as much, so what can we do?’” He paused, before recalling later lyrics. “‘I don’t wanna let you go like this. I don’t want to be scared with a broken heart. I’m the place you can come to. You’re the place I can go to.”

Tears formed in your eyes, but he brushed them away easily, now cupping your face within his hands, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, and you could have sworn he felt the fluttering of your eyelashes against him, dampened slightly by your watery eyes.

“‘I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you. In my heart, it’s always been you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now, but I hope these typical words will reach you.’”

You looked at him, your entire being filled and your senses flooded.

With him.

It was only him, him, him.

How could you not have realized?

His words, his feelings were so clear.

He had the kind of love for you that brings forth a melody.

His gentle voice drew you away from your own thoughts, “Thank you, firefly. For choosing me.”

“Always, Jihoonie. Always.”

He leaned in to close the distance.

You met him halfway.

──────────────────

Your hands were intertwined with his as you swung them lightly, back and forth, ebbing and flowing, like the waves almost reaching your feet on the coastline of the local beach where you would laze away during your adolescence and find adventure during your childhood.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, the sounds of the ocean and lull of the town around you, just basking in what felt like the stars finally aligning.

Jihoon squeezed your hand for a moment. “You know, I thought you left because you realized that I had feelings for you and didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, still not letting go of his hand, the sea breeze weaving itself between his and your hair.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty obvious. Hyung and noona thought the same. They figured it out pretty early on.”

“Um.”

He blinked. “You had no idea?”

“I—I thought you were in love with noona—”

“Hey, I might’ve thought she was pretty, but you were the one that turned that into something it wasn’t.”

“What! What about the times we went to try and find out whether the mini golf place was fun enough for a date idea? Or whether the food stand near the beach was romantic enough?”

“Please tell me you’re hearing yourself.”

“I’m—”

“Jesus, firefly. Are you serious? Did I end up ever taking her there? Did I even try? All of those places, all of those times, those were meant for you. You were the one who kept bringing up noona and what she would like while I was trying to figure out whether it would’ve been weird to reach out and hold your hand.” His grip tightened on yours.

You flushed at that. “Okay, but like—you spent so much time with noona before I left.”

“Because she was trying to help me plan something to get it through your thick skull just how in love I was because obviously none of the other things I did was enough.”

“I—you—she’s better than me.”

“I just confessed that I was in love with you, and you’re focusing on her right now?”

You blabbered out incoherent sounds and he merely laughed in your face at your reaction.

(Or maybe at himself.)

“Dozens of songs of writing my feelings for you into the lyrics, and you still didn’t get it. So. I’ll try and say it as clearly as possible. I love you, Y/N. What can I do to get you to notice me? Because I’ll do it, firefly. I swear I will.”

You bit your lip.

“I got my driver’s license.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh… recently?”

“No. A month after you left, a month before I did. I got my driver’s license and I so badly wanted to call you to tell you. Because we talked about late night diner specials and how uncrowded the park was at six in the morning and you said I’d be your chauffeur forever.”

“Yeah, why should I have to learn?”

“Jihoon.”

“I’m doing alright without one, thanks.”

You rolled your eyes, but continued, “I drove around the neighborhood several times, passing by the mailboxes we used to Sharpie, the stop signs we tried to run up and slap, the sidewalks we crossed after hagwon, the sewer where we were convinced a clown lived.”

“That was a you thing, don’t drag me into it.”

“And I realized that none of it mattered if you weren’t in the passenger seat.”

“So, what are you saying? That I’m just good company?”

You eyed him and knew he was teasing, but there was a hint of insecurity underneath it. Because he said those words you had yet to acknowledge, let alone, respond to. The corner of your lips upturned. “Yeah, that’s it. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to be in said company for at least one lifetime. I love you, Lee Jihoon.”

“You’re missing the ‘too,’ since I said it first.”

“You’re annoying.”

“It’s been one of the only ways to get you to look at me, firefly.”

“Mm. I’m always looking.”

“Respectfully?”

“Most times. Have you seen the ‘Good to Me’ choreo?”

He bumped your shoulder as you burst into a fit of giggles, choosing to let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his waist as he pretended to stomp off. He stuck his tongue out at you, calling you a pervert, and you said, “Hey, you’re the one that’s in love with me, alright?”

He swept you up into his arms and rather than carrying you princess-style or even in a piggy-back ride, he threw you over his shoulder and you yelped loudly.

“Jihoon!”

“Y/N!”

“Let me go!”

“Nope. Never again.”

You made a gagging noise. Who is this shameless kid?

“I’ll put you down though, my shoulder hurts.”

You smacked it once you were on your own two feet and ran as much as you could with the weight of your feet sinking into the wet sand with each step. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you and tackled you to the ground. You fell back, with his hand behind your head, ensuring no damage to your person. You giggled up at him.

The edge of the waves were mere centimeters from you, but seeing him against the endless night sky, with glittering stars, him, your moon, you could not bring yourself to care.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, about his life as an idol, about his pursuits and his struggles and his hopes and his dreams. You were so excited to fall in love with him again. You hoped that he would be just as excited to love the person that you’ve become, the one that is so wholly you, but has been transformed by him.

Leaving things left unsaid was a burden the two of you beared for far too many years, believing that you deserved the painful yearning of each other, to make up for the choices made as teenagers.

You breathed in the salt of the sea, as you thought about how, years ago, you were in the same city, letting this very person walk away from you. Shame washed over you, as it has for years, like the waves that were ebbing and flowing right beside you, and tears began to form in your eyes. It was almost embarrassing, how easily you let him slip away. He deserved so much.

“I’m a lot,” you choked out.

He smiled softly as he cupped your face gently, not moving to brush away tears that were threatening to fall. He simply held you, wordlessly accepting all that you were.

“Never too much, and always enough, firefly.”

You wanted to thank whatever higher power was out there.

Whatever one compelled Jihoon to search your Instagram page and accidentally like a post from years ago, a notification that could have been swiped away accidentally in the middle of the night by a bleary-eyed and half-awake you.

Because what kind of future would’ve come otherwise?

Would you have reconnected in some other way, more purposeful and intentional?

Or would you have convinced yourselves that living apart was something that was inevitable and it was better to have simply let the past be the past?

Or would you have yearned for each other in ways that even the potential of running into each other would lead to an eruption of nerves?

You breathed in slowly as you wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing him in, letting his heartbeat drown out even the sound of the crashing ocean beside you.

It didn’t really matter.

This future will be one that you build.

Together.

[끝.]

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 14 hours

Text

Show & Tell (M, cold)

Mark & Matt are back! In this, Matt has an awful cold and they have a busy night. That's pretty much it lol, there's a good amount of ~drama~ because who doesn't love drama? This takes place a couple months after 'Three', when Matt and Mark are dating but haven't told Greyson or Elijah and I'll be honest I've spent a lot of time on it and don't know if I even like it lmao. I hope you guys do, though!! It might suck, who knows!! Also, there's no sick character POV - it switches between Mark and Greyson's POV.

Ok, onward. Let me know how you guys feel about it lol.

CW: Male snz, cold, contagion mention, coughing, fever.

Show & Tell

“It’s not that I don’t want them to know. You know that.”

Mark gave his boyfriend a sidelong look; did he know that? He wasn’t so sure. “Matt,” he said, treading carefully, “it’s been three months. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

Matt sighed, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… I mean, Greyson can be… I don’t know… touchy, I guess, about like, relationship stuff. Especially since the whole… Collin thing. And also, he can just be an asshole about dating within the kitchen. You remember when he caught us kissing.”

“Yeah, but I mean that’s just what you guys do, right? Poke fun at each other? And the Collin thing… That was, like, a year ago, Matt. He’s a grown man.”

There was a pause, then, and Mark knew he’d gone too far. Greyson and Matt’s relationship was way more than boss and employee; Greyson had taken a chance on Matt when no one else would. He’d given him opportunities that Matt couldn’t have dreamed of as a kid, and Matt was always quick to point that out when Mark grumbled about Greyson’s anger, or when he called Matt in on his day off, or the way he made fun of Matt making doe-eyes at Mark. Greyson has been there for me since the moment I met him, he always said. You have to take the good with the bad.

More often than not, Mark found himself rolling his eyes at this statement, or muttering Whatever, babe, under his breath, but he also didn’t want to push his new beau away. If Greyson was a weird non-participatory third in their burgeoning relationship… so be it. He’d put up with it, for Matt.

“Hey, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that; I know, you’re right, he’s been through it.” Mark pulled Matt in for a hug, making the other man soften. “I’m just saying,” Mark said, pulling away, “that if he doesn’t already know, he’s going to have to find out eventually. Right?”

Matt shrugged, then begrudgingly nodded. “You’re right, you’re right, just… I don’t know, give me a week. Let me take him out and actually tell him so it’s not just, like, a big joke that he parades through the kitchen. Okay?”

Mark smiled. “Okay. Yes, that works. Thank you, baby.” He swept Matt’s bangs off his face, allowed a frown to settle over his own. “You feel really warm. By the way.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pulled away and ducked into the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hh-! Hh’ITSZH-ue!”

“Bless you.”

“I’m okay,” Matt said in response. “Like I said before, I think it’s just allergies.”

“...Fever-inducing allergies?”

“Honey,” Matt said, pulling a hand down his face, “please drop it. We have like two hundred on the books tonight, it’s not like I could call out or anything.”

“So you feel badly enough to call out?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Matt sighed, loudly enough for Mark to hear the congestion in his chest rattle.

“No,” Matt said. “I don’t.”

“Mmm.”

“Can we go back to arguing about me telling Greyson and Elijah we’re dating? I’d prefer that over getting the third degree about what is, at most, a cold,” Matt said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“So now it’s a cold. Moments ago, you said it was allergies. What’s it going to be by the time you get to work? Bubonic plague?”

“I was thinking something a little more modern. Maybe scarlet fever. Hh- hh’ISHHH-uhh!” Matt crumpled to the side once again, and Mark sighed.

“Hilarious,” he said, deadpan. “You should take some dayquil, or something.”

“I’m okay, honey, really,” Matt said, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

Mark hesitated; what would a good boyfriend do here? He assumed a good boyfriend would scoop Matt into his arms and place him in bed. A good boyfriend would call in for Matt – hell, call in for both of them so he could take care of his boyfriend – and tell Greyson and Elijah to figure it out, restaurant-be-damned. He’d spoon-feed Matt soup and they’d watch Criminal Minds and talk about who on the show was the most objectively fuckable and they’d fall asleep early and in the morning, Matt would be good as new.

But a good boyfriend would also tell their bosses they were dating; a good boyfriend wouldn’t put the onus on Matt to tell Greyson before Mark told Elijah because Greyson was an objectively harder person to tell. A good boyfriend wouldn’t give Matt shit for being nervous because him telling Greyson was akin to Mark telling his own father he was gay and fuck, Matt didn’t even have a father to tell, you asshole, you inconsiderate piece of shit.

He wasn’t a good boyfriend, that much he knew. So instead of manning up in any way whatsoever, Mark nodded and kissed Matt on his hot forehead. “See you tonight,” he said, and continued to kick himself as Matt trudged out the front door.

***

“They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Greyson rolled his eyes so hard that they felt like they might pop out of his head. “Oh c’mon, Lij, that’s such a cop-out,” he said, snapping inventory papers onto a clipboard and clicking a pen open and shut many more times than was necessary. “It’s been, what? Like almost four months since the whole making-out-in-my-bathroom incident? And it’s not like they’re good at hiding it, I think Matt slaps Mark’s ass fifty times a day.”

“Is that really new, though? You slap Matt’s ass fifty times a day,” Elijah said, glancing up from his own, much-better-organized inventory clipboard. “I thought ass-slapping was just par for the course in this kitchen. You’ve created a culture of ass-slapping.”

“That’s within the kitchen boundary, Lij,” Greyson said, his index finger and thumb pressed together and punctuating each word of this statement. “Mark is outside the kitchen boundary. The rules are different.”

Elijah snorted out a laugh. “My mistake,” he said, flipping the first page on his clipboard and examining the second. “I figured that culture extended to the whole restaurant.”

“Damn right your mistake,” Greyson muttered. He glanced back down at his papers, then tossed the clipboard on the desk and snatched Elijah’s out of his hand to toss as well.

“Dude,” Elijah said, “I was using that.”

“Do you think Matt’s scared to tell me?” Greyson asked, ignoring Elijah’s annoyance. “It’s not like I’d care. I mean, the whole thing makes sense, they spend seventy hours a week here together. It’s not like it’s easy to find someone to date outside this place, and trust me, it’s not like he’s missing out on anything in the regular world. Shit, if you were down, I’d start dating you.”

“I’d rather eat a jean jacket than date you,” Elijah said, leaning on an elbow on the desk. “And that’s not even because you don’t have my preferred equipment, it’s because of who you are. Fundamentally. As a person.”

“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me,” Greyson said, ignoring Elijah’s statement outright. “Matt’s my dude. He’s my muse. He’s like if I had a kid, but didn’t have to do the gross horrible raising him part. He knows he can tell me anything.”

Elijah sighed, a heavy and resigned sound, and took the bait. “Grey,” he said, “yes, he knows he can tell you anything, but he also knows he’s going to get so much shit from you when he does tell you. I’m sure he’s just trying to spare himself the three weeks of jokes about the two of them dating. Maybe, if you could be serious for five fuckin’ minutes, you could approach him and ask him, hey, are you and Mark dating?” Elijah shrugged, both hands held in front of him as though to say just an idea.

Greyson scoffed, annoyed. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like Mark has told you.”

“Yeah, but Mark and I are coworkers. We don’t have some weird father/son codependent relationship like you two. Plus, Mark is only a talker when he drinks and he hasn’t had more than a glass of wine in front of me since they got together, so he knows I know he’s avoiding the conversation.” Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look then. “I’m sure he’s waiting for Matt to tell you. Dad.”

The chef rolled his eyes again and pushed himself to a standing position. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to talk to him about it today. And I’ll be serious.”

“Great,” Elijah said, picking his clipboard back up. “I’m happy for both of you.”

Greyson placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder as he walked out of the office and towards the prep kitchen, a gesture to thank him for the pep talk, and Elijah nodded in understanding. It wasn’t the fact that Matt had a not-so-well-kept secret that Greyson found troubling; it was the fact that he felt like he wasn’t able to tell his boss that hurt Greyson’s feelings. The chef got set up in the prep kitchen, pulled out his chef’s knife, and began sharpening it on his steel. He really thought he’d put it in Matt’s head that he could tell him anything. Apparently he’d been wrong.

As if summoned, Matt picked that exact moment to blow through the back kitchen doors – he was wearing a sweatshirt, despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm, and his hood was up. Greyson drew his eyebrows together, confused.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Greyson called from his prep station. Matt swung around, obviously not expecting to see his boss the moment he walked in, and his face immediately crumpled.

“Hh- hhNGTSHZ-ue!” Matt attempted to stifle a sneeze into his elbow, which backfired immediately. “ITSZZHH-ue! Hh’ITZCHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue!”

Greyson blinked, surprised, as his sous gave into the paroxysm. “Wow,” he said when Matt finally stood upright, clearing his throat. “Bless.”

Matt nodded, swallowed, winced. “Yeah. Thangks,” he said, his voice low and congested. He walked towards the prep station – slunk may have been the more appropriate word – and hoisted his knife bag onto the counter. The next few moves seemed robotic, as though the sous chef were on autopilot; push hoodie off head. Roll up sleeves. Unzip bag. Make eye contact with boss. “What ndeeds to get prepped first?”

Up close, Matt looked like an even bigger pile of hot garbage than he sounded; he was pale – sallow, Greyson thought to himself, then vocab word of the day -, his eyes red-rimmed and laden with bags. His breathing seemed painful, labored, and uneven, and before Greyson could say anything, Matt turned back to his rolled-up sleeve to cough. “Dude,” Greyson said, taking a step back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Matt muttered, getting himself together. He walked to the sink and washed his hands, then turned back to Greyson. “Better?”

“That wasn’t what I meant by ‘dude’,” Greyson said, taking a step towards his sous and slapping a hand on his forehead. “That was ‘dude’ as in ‘dude, you look like fucking shit’.”

Matt wiggled out from under Greyson’s hand, annoyed. “I’mb fine, Chef,” he said. “Tell mbe what needs to get done.”

Greyson rubbed his face and gathered his hair on top of his head, buying time. Obviously, the conversation about him and Mark was off the table for the moment, but were they not allowed to talk about Matt’s very obvious illness, either? “Did you take anything?” Greyson asked, ignoring his sous’ question with one of his own.

“I was running late. Also, I don’t ndeed anythi- ITTTSZZHH-ue! HRSHHH-uh!” Matt folded himself in half to avoid sneezing in Greyson’s face, and collapsed into a coughing fit from the force of them. Greyson pressed his lips together.

“Where’d you pick this shit up?” Greyson asked, patting Matt’s back as the younger man tried to compose himself. “You haven’t been out on the prowl with me in months, so I take no blame.”

It was an attempt – a very obvious one – to get Matt to admit he was at least seeing someone, but either Matt wasn’t taking the bait or he didn’t hear him over his own misery. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “Can we please just start cooking? I ndeed a distraction.”

Greyson pressed his lips together; somehow, they’d had a whole conversation without really saying anything, a whole back-and-forth with not one question answered. “Okay,” Greyson said, stepping to the side to let Matt get situated at the prep table. “I’m going to grab some shit from the walk-in. You get set up.”

Matt nodded, obviously grateful, and started setting up his things while Greyson turned towards the walk-in.

Well, he thought to himself, sarcastically. That was productive.

***

“Alright, everyone, so we have 245 on the books toni -”

“HhuhhhITSZHHH-ue! Huh-! HhhRRSHH-oo!”

The servers’ heads popped up from their notes in unison and turned towards the closed kitchen doors, ten yards away. Mark cringed; Elijah raised his eyebrows towards Greyson, and the Executive Chef sighed and stood. “I’m gonna go check and make sure he didn’t burst a blood vessel,” he joked, prompting a collective giggle from the servers. Mark felt his heart sink deep into the pit of his stomach.

At his apartment this morning, Matt had clearly been coming down with something. Since he’d arrived at work, it was clear that whatever it was had settled in nicely; Mark had only been at work for two hours, but in those he’d heard Matt sneeze more than he had the entirety of their relationship.

“Jesus,” Mark had said when he first saw Matt, doubled over behind the prep table. “That really went from zero to a hundred. I just saw you, like, four hours ago.”

Matt had attempted to clear his throat before addressing his boyfriend: “Yeah, I guess,” he said, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie down to his wrists and shivering. Mark wanted desperately to tell him to go lay down in a booth or something – better yet, to tell him to go home and go to bed – but he knew he couldn’t do either.

“Can I get you some tea?” he asked instead, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from feeling Matt’s face for fever. Matt shook his head.

“’M fine,” he managed, picking his knife back up and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “’S just a stupid cold.”

That had been about as far as their conversation had gone; Mark had been whisked away by Elijah to help set the floor up, and Matt had been forced to put his head back down and continue prepping. Normally, Matt would’ve been in pre-shift with the rest of the team, but Greyson had explained when everyone sat down that he was attempting to gain his second wind in the office and wouldn’t be joining.

“Anyway,” Mark continued, addressing the servers while Greyson stood to check on Matt, “like I said: 245 on the books. We do have a few VIPs…”

The servers jotted down what they needed to, and Mark finished his speech on autopilot. Elijah said something about uniforms being cleaned and pressed, and Greyson came back to join them all after a minute or two spent in the kitchen. When pre-shift ended, Greyson stopped Mark from walking away with the rest of the front of house.

“Mark,” Greyson said as the servers went to eat family meal, “hold back a second.”

Mark could feel himself immediately break into a cold sweat; Greyson never wanted to talk to him after pre-shift. Had he fucked up somehow? He knew they were too busy – overbooked, really – but Elijah had approved it. Said they needed the extra covers, since they’d be closed for a week next month. Maybe Elijah hadn’t told Greyson he’d approved the overbooking? Maybe -

“Hey, I just – I wanted to talk to you about Matt,” Greyson said when the servers had all exited to the kitchen. Mark swallowed, his throat dry. Oh.

“What about him?” Mark asked, his heart beating in his temples. Greyson huffed out a little laugh.

“You guys are dating,” he said – not a question. A statement. Mark’s face flamed.

“Did he – have you guys talked?” he asked, feeling his throat close. Greyson shook his head, a smile blooming on his face.

“Nope,” he said, palming Mark’s shoulder. “But now we don’t need to. Elijah!” he called into the kitchen, and Mark felt himself fly into action. He stumbled in front of Greyson before the chef could walk through the kitchen doors.

“Chef,” he said, holding his arms out so Greyson couldn’t get by, “you can’t tell Matt that you know. Seriously, he’ll kill me, he – I mean, he wanted to tell you himself, he said he was going to, like, sit you down and tell you and -”

“Sit me down? He’s not breaking up with me to be with you, I’m so fuckin’ confused why you guys haven’t just told us, it’s not like it’s a big deal -”

“It’s a big deal to him,” Mark said, cutting Greyson off. “It’s a big deal to Matt. I think – fuck, I don’t know, Chef, I think it’s like… you’re his person he gets to tell. You know? And he’s not feeling well and we kind of argued about it this morning and… please,” Mark said, biting his cheek to keep from crying. “Please, Chef. Just… he’ll tell you. Just wait for him to tell you.”

Greyson closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll wait till the end of the week,” he said, moving Mark’s arm to get into the kitchen. “But if he hasn’t said anything by then, I’m saying something.”

Mark just nodded, and let Greyson by. You fucking moron, he chided himself. You absolute asshole. You gave it away, Matt is going to be so fucking disappointed, you’re such a dick, you can’t even let him have this one fucking thing. You just have to fuck everything up somehow. What the fuck is wrong with you?

What the FUCK is wrong with you?

***

Greyson would have been hard-pressed to think of a more difficult service than this one was turning out to be.

It had started fine; the flow of the evening was laid out well, the first turn went off basically without a hitch. Matt was on middle, and had loaded up on every medicine the office pharmacy had to offer, so while he was a little… high, honestly, he was at least in good spirits and able to do his job.

“We doing okay back there, everyone?” Greyson asked, peeking past the board filled with tickets to acknowledge his cooks, and Matt.

“Yes, Chef,” they answered – all except Matt, who hooted as though Greyson was a singer asking his audience how everyone was feeling out there. Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Only two hundred covers to go!” Greyson shouted as the printer spat out yet another ticket. “Order in, two salmon, three pork.”

About sixty covers in, things began to turn; the servers began to slow down, sending their food in as fire-alls instead of coursed out. The bar became backed up, so Mark was taking bartop guest’s orders and ringing them all in at once, sending a huge wave of tickets in at once – annoying, sure, but something they could handle. But then, tickets stopped coming in altogether – first, for five minutes. Then seven. Then ten.

“Elijah!” Greyson called into the dining room, not caring if the guests heard. The GM ran in at the sound of his name. “The fuck is going on, dude? We have ZERO tickets on the board.”

Elijah winced. “Yeah,” he said, “everyone is camping. We have like thirty people waiting to sit.” Greyson blinked.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“So you’re telling me, at least thirty people are going to sit down all at once. And order all at once.”

Elijah nodded, solemn. “I wish I wasn’t, but yes, Chef, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Of course, by the time the first set of guests got up and the second set sat down, they had a new problem: Matt.

It was seven o’clock; Matt had taken his last dose of medicine at four, and sitting around waiting on tickets to come rolling in again had stopped the flow of adrenaline. His misery seemed to have caught up with him completely just as the tickets started printing again.

“Order in,” Greyson called for the tenth time in three minutes, “a scallop, three filets, and a venison no dairy.”

“Heard, Che – HTSHH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side to sneeze into the sleeve of his chef’s coat, an angry, grating sound that made the cooks wince. He coughed painfully into his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back. Greyson bit his cheek.

“Bless, Chef,” he called over the line, pulling yet another stream of tickets. “Christ… ok, guys, I’m going to read all these but let’s just focus on what I just called for now, these people… I mean, they’re going to have to wait.”

“Yes, Chef,” the cooks called – all except Matt. Instead of the goofy whoops from earlier in the evening, Matt responded by ducking beneath the line.

“HRRSHH! Huh-! Hh’ITZZHH-uh! NGTSHZZH-ue! Hh… hhhuh-ITZSHH-ue!” Matt covered his head with his arms, careful not to spray them, and sneezed into his lap until he sounded hoarse. Greyson could hear him attempt to sniffle, to no avail. He stood, shakily, and cleared his throat. “Heard, Chef,” he whispered, his voice hanging on by a thread.

Greyson pressed his lips together, feeling the temperature of his blood raising. God, this fucking kid – he should’ve stayed home, what good was it doing anyone having him here, sneezing himself hoarse, coughing til he was dizzy, probably infecting all the cooks and most likely over or under cooking all the fish. Greyson wanted to snap, Pull it together, but held back.

“Bless, Chef,” he called again, pointedly. Matt just nodded, dazed.

“Go ahead and call the ndext tickets, Chef,” Matt croaked. Greyson sighed, looked up, and yanked the tickets off the printer.

“Order in,” he said again, and again, and again.

***

The dining room was a fucking disaster.

Mark’s head felt like it was screwed on backwards; he could feel himself failing, and with every misstep he hated himself more. Can’t you put the tickets in right? Tracy asked you to help take the order for 32, have you gotten over there? This bar is filled with drinks, the hell are you doing?

If the dining room wasn’t bad enough, in the kitchen Greyson was clearly about to be sent straight over the edge.

“I need runners!” he called from expo, loud enough for everyone in the dining room to hear. Mark cringed, dropped what he was doing, and ran into the kitchen. The printer wouldn’t stop; the window was filled with plates, and the servers were tripping over themselves to get the food onto trays and out into the dining room.

“Mark! Take these, table 24,” Greyson said, pressing three scorching-hot plates into the floor manager’s hands. “And come right back, this fucking food is going to go bad in about three seconds. Order in!”

Mark took the food, dropped it, assessed the red marks on his hands and wrists and headed back to the kitchen. All of this would’ve been par for the course for a Saturday night, really, if not for -

“HTTSHH! HRRRSHH-uh! Hh’NGTTSZHH-ue!”

Matt.

The whole staff could tell he was fading fast. It was eight-thirty, and since about seven he hadn’t managed to go more than a couple minutes without collapsing into a fit of sneezes or coughs. His voice was completely gone at this point, and Mark could tell – even from ten feet away – that he had a pretty significant fever. All of this seemed to just further enrage Greyson.

“Chef,” Greyson called behind the line. “Get your third wind, I’m fucking dying up here I need this food out now! Order in, three salmon, two filets!”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt called, his voice so mangled Mark wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to get the words out. God, this was bad. This was so fucking bad.

***

There was no way they were going to get through all these tickets. There was just no fucking way.

It all felt like a nightmare at this point; Greyson was up to his elbows in tickets that just kept flowing. The food was dying in the windows, servers were grabbing shit that wasn’t theirs and fucking up what little flow they had going. Elijah was pouring free wine because ticket times were over forty minutes. And Matt was completely and totally stick-a-fork-in-him done.

At nine-fifteen, with twenty tickets on the board, Greyson looked up to ask his sous if table 55 was going to be up anytime soon; only to see Matt, caught in pre-sneeze torture with a knife in his right hand, moments away from splitting his left hand open.

“Matt!” Greyson screamed, and the sous chef snapped out of his daze and dropped the knife onto the cutting board. He gasped at the realization that he’d been millimeters away from maiming himself.

Enough is enough, Greyson thought to himself. “Mark!” he called into the dining room, not caring who could hear him. “Come and get your biohazard boyfriend and take him fucking home!”

The kitchen went completely silent. Matt blinked, clearly trying to unpack what he’d just heard, before wrenching to the side. “HHHITSZZHH-ue!”

Mark and Elijah burst into the kitchen then; tickets lined the board. Food lined the window. Matt was crouched down behind the line, and Greyson’s eyes were wild.

“Take him home,” Greyson said, making eye contact with Mark. “Or to urgent care. Or maybe straight to the cemetery. I don’t care where he goes, but he needs to get off my line.”

Mark nodded, and stepped behind the line to gather Matt, who slumped into his boyfriend’s arms. Greyson watched Mark hold Matt close, felt his chest contract when he heard his sous chef whisper, “Baby, I don’t feel good,” into his boyfriend’s chest.

“Go,” Greyson insisted. Mark helped Matt off the line, lead him into the office and pulled his hoodie over his chef’s coat, and walked him towards the back exit. Thank you, Mark mouthed to Greyson, who just nodded in response.

Once they were through the back doors, Elijah stepped forward. “Get back there and help them,” he said. “I’ll do expo. We’ll get through it.”

“We always do,” Greyson muttered, and pushed past his cooks to get to the middle of the line. “Alright: let’s land this fuckin’ bitch of a night in the harbor.”

***

The quiet calm of Matt’s apartment was in such direct opposition to the prior evening at work that Mark felt he might actually have whiplash.

The floor manager checked his phone for the tenth time since he’d woken up twenty minutes before. Elijah, via text, had filled him in about what happened after he and Matt left; it had been a shit show, but they’d gotten it done. There had been worse nights, Elijah said, though Mark couldn’t remember one. His boss let him know that he’d closed the restaurant for the day, to give everyone a well-deserved break. Thank God.

Greyson had texted both Mark and Matt apologizing for outing their relationship, and told Matt he could take as much time off as he needed – not that Matt had seen it yet. The sous chef had passed out the second his head hit the pillow the night previous, and he hadn’t stirred in over twelve hours.

Mark had responded to Greyson; it’s all good, Chef, though he wasn’t sure he really believed himself. He was glad that Greyson had told Mark to step up, to get Matt out and take care of him. But Matt… fuck, he was going to be upset when he woke up.

Speaking of which.

“Has anyone ever told you you text really loud?” Matt croaked quietly over Mark’s shoulder. Mark slammed his phone onto the bed and rolled over to face his boyfriend.

“No, I don’t think I’ve gotten that one before,” Mark said, caressing Matt’s face. Matt smiled, a little sadly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm. Like hot fuckigg garbage,” Matt whispered, closing his eyes. “Tired. Shitty. Fuckigg embarrassed.”

Mark pressed his lips together; he wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on: “Can I make you some tea?”

Matt huffed out a little laugh that turned into a nasty-sounding cough. “In a mbinute,” he said, “I just wandt to lay with you for now.”

So they did. A silence fell over the two of them – Mark stroking Matt’s hot face, Matt with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, Matt opened his red, rheumy eyes. “So, he kndows.”

Mark felt his heart sink. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess he does.”

Silence surrounded them again. “I guess I should’ve kndown,” Matt said.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. Matt smiled a little.

“You were right,” he teased. “You’re always right.”

“I’m rarely right,” Mark corrected. “But I think we made it pretty obvious.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed again. A beat went by where neither of them said anything, until Matt’s body took over. “HHRSSHH-uhhh!” he sneezed, exhausted, into his hand and wiped it on the comforter. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bless you,” he said. Matt smiled, eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get so sigck,” he muttered, on the edge of sleep again already.

“Yeah,” Mark said, pressing a soft kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. “That sounds accurate.”

Matt opened his eyes, slowly. “You kndow I love you. Right?”

A firework lodged itself into Mark’s aorta, blew his heart right to bits. “Really?” he asked, the wrong answer, but his first reaction all the same. Matt laughed in earnest.

“Really,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“I love you, Matt. God, I love you,” Mark said, kissing Matt’s lips again. “I’m sorry about last night. I love you. Thank you. I love you.”

Matt opened one eye this time, touched Mark’s face, and closed it again. “Thangk you,” he murmured. “’M gonna go back to sleep ndow. If that’s cool with you.”

“Go to sleep, baby,” Mark said, his heart so full he was sure it would burst. “I love you.”

And even though Matt was already snoring by the time he had said it again, he couldn’t seem to stop muttering it in time with his boyfriend’s snores. I love you. I love you. I love you.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #contagion #coughing #fever #ugghhhhh do i like this??? idk. i think it might suck honestly LMAOOOO #whatever!!!! it's out there now sooooo there's that

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