#angst drabble meme | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ruwhimsical · 12 days ago

Text

“I WASN’T LEADING YOU ON, GIRL!”

He was no longer the sloppy volleyball player you hung out with, but he still was your best friend—right?

cw : heavy angst , slight fluff , gn!reader , miscommunication , hidden feelings , reader has some ass friends , idk what else !!just read and find out😈

——

You invited your friends to the MSBY match, knowing they’d be more than happy to accept. They weren’t your closest friends—just people you met along the way during university—but they were better company than going alone. The thought of running into Hinata by yourself made you uneasy.

One of your friends kept gushing about how all the players on the team were “eye candy.” This was typical for them—they’d always openly talk about guys they liked during class, feigning ignorance about how uncomfortable it made you. But you never said anything, afraid they’d drop you if you did.

Right now, though, you were thankful for their chatter. It was a convenient distraction from your thoughts, especially with Hinata on your mind. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to suppress the awkwardness when you saw him. The dread was already building in your stomach, even before the match had started. You knew he’d search for you in the crowd afterward, probably try to strike up a conversation. But what did he even want from you now?

The three of you made your way to the stands, your friends ahead, engrossed in a conversation you didn’t care to join. You took your designated seats.

“I’m so excited for this, oh my god! Do you think I could get Sakusa to sign my shirt?” one of your friends exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Be so for real… he’d probably send the biggest dirty your way,” the other one snorted, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

You tuned them out, your eyes scanning the arena. Then, your focus landed on MSBY’s number 21. Your “best friend”—or at least, that’s what you used to call him.

But that was before he cut you off. You had no right to crawl back into his life. He’d made that clear two years ago when you heard the news of his departure—not from him, but from Kageyama, of all people.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the velocity of a spike sent the ball smashing into the floor. You glanced at the scoreboard: Hinata had already scored a point for his team.

“Hey, Y/N… isn’t that orange-haired guy the one who invited you here?” one of your friends asked, piquing the curiosity of the other.

“Oh my god… are you guys secretly dating or something?” your friend giggled, leaning in with a mischievous grin, clearly trying to pry the answer out of you.

“It’s not like that,” you said quickly, offering a half-smile. How you wished it were, but that was a fantasy. “We just hung out during school. He messaged me and asked if I wanted to come, nothing crazy.”

“Bummer… but I won’t lie, he’s a really good player,” she said, slumping down in her seat.

You looked back at the arena, and there he was—Hinata, darting around the court with the same speed and stamina you remembered, reminding you of his old self. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much, after all. But then you noticed the difference—his movements were no longer sloppy. They were controlled, smooth, as if every motion had purpose. He was confident, proud, the embodiment of someone who’d truly grown.

The sight brought a bittersweet smile to your face. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for how far he’d come. But looking at the back of his jersey, you were reminded of the cold, hard truth.

To achieve his dreams, he’d had to create distance. He had chosen to leave you behind to pursue them, likely never telling you in fear of you trying to stop him. You weren’t selfish—you would have fought for him. But maybe he saw you as a threat to his ideal life. He cut you off without a word, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

Now, here he was, trying to waltz back into your life. But you knew it wouldn’t feel the same. No matter how friendly he acted, no amount of effort could erase the two years of radio silence between the two of you.

You were no longer on the same wavelength. He had become someone who lived in a different world—out of reach.

——

As the match comes to an end with MSBY claiming victory, the stands erupt with energy. Fans rise to their feet, reporters swarm toward the sweaty players, and long lines form as eager supporters clutch their merchandise, hoping for a chance at an autograph. You, on the other hand, are desperate to leave, debating whether to send Hinata a quick text with an excuse that the commotion is too overwhelming to meet him.

But before you can make your escape, your friends pull you toward the crowd surrounding the players, hoping to catch their attention. You stand awkwardly on the outskirts, silently begging for this to end. Then, a light tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you feel your heart lurch, nearly stopping altogether.

There he is—the one and only Hinata Shoyo, smiling as if the past two years had never even happened.

He stands before you, now 5’7”, his once-boyish frame replaced by a lean, muscular build honed by endless practice and the fierce Brazilian sun, which left his skin with a tan that hasn’t faded. You realize you might not have recognized him if he hadn’t spoken first. This isn’t the same 5’4” kid you used to spend your days with. He’s different now—almost a stranger.

“Hey y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” the change in his voice catches you off guard, making it hard to come to terms with the fact that he’s standing in front of you—not as the third-year high schooler you once knew, but as a professional athlete.

“Yeah…” At a loss for words, you try to shift his attention away from your awkward demeanor.

“You were great out there, I almost didn’t believe that was you,” you shoot him a nervous smile, hands tucked behind your back.

“Of course! They don’t call me Ninja Shoyo for nothing,” he puffs out his chest, attempting to impress you—but it only makes you laugh.

It almost—almost—reminds you of how things used to be. Maybe you could pick up the pieces of the friendship you two left behind, after all. And if you’re lucky, you might even be able to make something new blossom between the two of you.

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious, you know!” He glares at you, but then, he stops. He notices the way your eyes soften, and it hits him—he misses this. He missed you. He can’t let you slip through his fingers now that you’re finally here, standing before him.

“Y/N!!” One of your friends rushes toward you, pulling you away from him before you can reply. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” You know she’s lying, but the way she eyeing Hinata and disregarding your existence burns.

“I’m your biggest fan! You’re so fine,” your friend says, grasping Hinata’s hand.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hinata flashes his best fan smile, like it’s second nature. But the one thing that hasn’t changed? Your ability to read him like an open book.

A surge of anger courses through your veins. Whether it’s jealousy or something else, you’re not sure, but it’s enough to push you into action. You need a way out of this awkward scene—and quickly. Then, you notice the subtle glance Hinata gives you, and it sparks your idea.

“Hinata, how’s your foot? Does it still hurt?” You look at him, hoping he’ll catch on.

Quick as ever, he feigns pain, rubbing his leg. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it does kind of hurt.”

“Oh, why don’t I help you get to the first aid? It’d be a shame if you couldn’t play your next match because of this,” you suggest, shifting to offer him your support. He carefully leans on you, but you can tell he’s being cautious, not wanting to put too much weight on you.

“Bye, guys! You can head on without me!” You hear their confused, skeptical glances, but you ignore them. You escort him outside, where their prying eyes won’t be able to reach.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Hinata bends down, holding his knee while resting against the wall. He looks up at you with a small, grateful smile.

“Don’t you deal with fans like that all the time?” you cross your arms, a cool demeanor returning as you lock eyes with him.

“Yeah, but it’s not every day I get to see you,” he says, a smile that’s real, not the one he gives desperate fans. It’s the smile of someone who’s been missing you, someone who’s never forgotten you.

“If those are your actual friends, I feel bad for you,” he adds, and you can’t help but feel a mix of dread and anger. You want to keep the mood light, but there’s something inside you that just won’t let it go. You can’t ignore the hurt anymore.

“Yeah, you could’ve been my friend if you hadn’t left without a word two years ago.” The words are out before you can stop them, and you watch as his smile falters, his gaze shifting away from you—avoiding it, as if running from the confrontation. But you’re not going to let him run again.

He turns away, looking at the ground, but the guilt is clear. His posture stiffens, as if he’s struggling to find the right words.

“About that… it was kind of hard to break the news,” he admits, and you almost see red. The anger wells up in you again as you whip your face toward him, seeing the tension in his clenched jaw. He’s distressed.

Your mind spirals, hurt and confusion overwhelming you. Did he think I was a nuisance? Did he forget about me? Or worse… did he not even care?

“What do you mean? You told everyone else with ease.” You scoff, trying to suppress the rush of emotions. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to fix things. But it’s clear now—he’s not on the same page.

“You’re different…” he says quietly, his voice breaking the tension.

You’re caught off guard, the air thick with the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to process it all.

“You’re special to me…” he continues, his voice soft, like he’s testing the waters. “There was just no way I could tell you without breaking down. I knew that if I told you face-to-face, I would’ve started doubting my decision. And you know how much volleyball means to me.”

“So do I not mean as much?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You laugh bitterly. Does he think that’s a good enough excuse?

“You could’ve texted me, you know,” you mutter under your breath, but the words are sharp with the sting of betrayal.

“I know… but I had hoped if I just said nothing, then we could pick up where we left off when I got back. It’d be as if nothing had changed at all.”

Nothing had changed at all? The anger in you swells.

“You’re so selfish…” Your voice cracks, but you hold it together. “Do you know how many pitiful glances people gave me whenever your name was mentioned? How I spent months unable to function because I thought my best friend hated me? I doubted if you even considered me a friend!”

You feel your heart pounding as you try to keep it together. The frustration, the hurt, the confusion—all of it comes rushing back in a tide of emotion. The anger takes over, but beneath it is a vulnerability you refuse to show.

“I don’t hate you…” He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to gently take yours. “I could never hate you. I loved you, okay? I loved you, and I was afraid that if we stayed in touch, you wouldn’t be interested anymore. That I wouldn’t have time for you.”

The words hang in the air, suffocating you. He’s desperate. You can feel it, the weight of the years that passed between you two. It’s almost too much to bear.

“You could’ve told me before…” The words escape you in a whisper. “I would’ve tried. I would’ve made it work. Clearly, you undermine how much I care about you. When have I ever been bored of you?”

His eyes gleam with that hope again. “We can start fresh. Forget the last two years. Let’s make it work, please…”

You want to give in. You want to run into his arms and forget everything. But you can’t. You know it won’t be the same. You know that you can’t ignore the hurt of the past two years.

“I don’t think we can…” You pull your hands away from his grasp. The scene plays out slowly in his eyes as you begin to walk away from him—the same way he walked away from you.

“I’m sorry, Hinata. I just can’t bring myself to act like those two years didn’t happen.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t turn around.

And for the first time, it was his turn to feel the anguish you’ve carried all this time.

extra :

—> FREE ME exams are around the corner and instead of studying I’m doing this lol!😂😂😂😭😂😭😂😭😂😭😂

—> gulps i hope u guys enjoyed this cause I certainly did not enjoy writing ts!!

—> help i lowkey feel like no one gets the songs the thaf i reference as my title

—> this how we coping chat ….👅

mlist

172 notes · View notes

banguette · 2 years ago

Text

Remember Me Once More | Ted Shackleford (The Man in The Yellow Hat) x f. Reader

description: He stayed. You left. 6 years after your last meeting, a game of circumstance lands you in the same room as him - and his monkey. With 2 weeks of working in close proximity, things are bound to come to light. The question is, how will he perceive it?

word count: 14.7k

warnings: they are both idiots!!! who are in love!!! angsty feelings, cursing a lot of talk of canada and the us as well as culinary schools (i did my research but i'm not from either of those places so pls forgive me if some things are wrong), some words are in italian because the pisghettis, awkward conversations, ted is a nerdy dilfy hotshot museum director, reader is a chef, sex fantasies (a LOT of them), they get trapped in a room, many many apologies, flashbacks to college, it's never explained but ted calls oc chowder, oc has two moms because we love diversity, brief mention of 'the office' and julius the monkey, sweet confessions, SO MUCH KISSING!!, cheesy lines are exchanged, boners, ted has a big virgin dick, experienced reader, oral sex (male and female recieving), a bit of a hair kink, clit play, ted is a bit too excited sometimes, bickering like they're an old married couple, reader has an iud, unprotected sex (do not try!! i repeat, do not try!!), several orgasms, creampies (yes, creampieS), missionary, riding, they act like horny teenagers, ted's butt deserves its own warning so here it is, brief mentions of bath sex, old wounds finally heal, the three of them are basically a family, public speaking, y/n is a bit unhinged, more sweet confessions, allusions to exhibition (pls keep in mind this is my first smut fic, be kind!!)

cover by: me (illustrations featured belong to their rightful owners)

note: I do not regret this book nor do I condone it. Fueled by Ted TikToks, inspired by 'Maroon' by Taylor Swift and 'Don’t You Remember?' by Adele.

Ted Shackleford was not a malevolent person.

Ask anyone and everyone who knew him; he was the last person to hold a grudge against anyone. His monkey had flooded his apartment - thrice! But his response every time he discovered George scratching his head uncomfortably and awkwardly giggling amid the soapy bubbles and rubber duckies surrounding him was to just sigh before proceeding to clean the place.

But you? You were a different story. Every time he recalls the blurry memory of you walking away from him - the last time he ever saw you - he only vividly remembers the anger bubbling up inside his chest. He only remembers the deep frown etched on his face, and the furrowing of his eyebrows as he dug his nails into his palm. Was it selfish to only recall what he felt at that moment, rather than the sight of you hurriedly making your way to your plane without sparing him another glance? To look back on perhaps the most significant turning point in his life and only focus on his emotions rather than figuring out why you left in the first place?

He didn't know. And, to be quite frank, a part of him doesn't care. Altruism was his one principle in life and constantly bent over backward 24/7 to make everyone happy; surely he could afford to be unkind in this one avenue.

But...

Some nights - including tonight - he thinks of the other memories you shared. That elementary school Halloween party, where you warned him that he was going to get teased relentlessly for dressing up as Percy Shelley (whom he was weirdly obsessed with back then), but come the day you surprised everyone by strolling in as Mary - Frankenstein plush and all in your hand. Yeah, you both still got ridiculed by all the Scooby-Doos and Rugrats in your class, but no bullying could have deterred the warmth he felt inside when you leaned over and whispered, "It's either both of us or none of us."

There was also that day in freshman year when you guys cycled through town, the sun setting behind you as you rushed home to make it in time for curfew. How you'd tripped over a train track and he'd tried his best to clean and dress the small gash on your knee, and how you looked at him as if he'd hung up the stars in the sky to accompany the moon when he matched his pace to yours and made it home extremely late. He'd gotten scolded, but it didn't matter. Not as long as you were safe. Besides, all was forgiven when you presented him with a history book in addition to his favorite cookies over a week later. The book inspired him to pursue history and eventually landed him a career as a museum director at the Met. Without you, he doesn't know how he wouldn't have gotten here.

It's that exact realization, however, that causes him to shift to his side on the bed and shake off all thoughts of you. He was approaching 30, for god's sake, and had a life to think about now rather than you; the one that got away. He lists them all in his head: a rambunctious monkey not even the age of 3, the meeting he has tomorrow for his new gallery opening, his friends... If it meant that, to focus, he had to drown out his thoughts (and the feeling of your soft lips pressing against his that one time) to the sound of George peacefully snoring in the room beside him, then so be it.

You had to remain in the past because Ted doesn't have space for you in his future.

The last thing you want to be confronted with after your tedious 6-hour flight to New York City is bitter coffee, but of course, that is what you get. The minute the foul-tasting liquid grazes your taste buds you spit it out onto the pavement, where the crowds don't even bother reacting to your gross public act of self-humiliation. It is at that moment when you truly feel like you are in New York, never mind the countless welcoming posters you'd seen passing through the airport. Being back in America after half a dozen years abroad felt dizzying - like something you'd spent so long carrying with you around British Columbia had finally lifted itself from your shoulders when you landed. You finally felt at home.

That being said, you weren't here for good just yet. Everything that you owned was still tied up in your apartment back in Vancouver, it depended on the outcome of your upcoming interview on whether or not you'd be moving here permanently. In the meantime, you'd spend the next few days here exploring the Apple; it's unlikely, but perhaps you could secure some last-minute Broadway tickets, or take a gander through the Central Park Zoo, or maybe even go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Right now though, the coffee had done nothing and you were more focused on getting to your hotel and crashing into the comfortable bed. Jetlag was a bitch, but it was one you were willing to give into.

After checking in, the concierge handed you a bunch of pamphlets on things to do while you're in New York before smiling and sending you on your way. Leaning against the elevator wall, luggage in tow, you flipped through them. You stop at the Met's in particular; despite being a culinary student, a dear old friend had gotten you somewhat interested in history and museums have kind of drawn you in since. You unfolded the paper, glazing your tired eyes over the words, briefly looking over the pictures.

Until you spot a familiar face staring back at you.

In your confusion, you bring the paper closer to your face. Surely it couldn't be - oh my god, it is. Your 'dear old friend' was right there on the paper, smiling and beckoning you to visit with a small monkey on his shoulder. Right as the elevator pinged, you folded the paper and removed the picture from your sight. Slight change of plans, you thought internally as you walked towards your hotel room. Maybe you wouldn't be visiting the Met after all.

"George! I'm home!" Ted yelled, walking inside and setting his keys into the designated bowl, and hanging his hat up on the hook. The day had been grueling, some cuddles with his favorite non-human in the world were all he was looking forward to. George was equally as excited to catch the man in the yellow hat up on his day; he'd spent his time playing with Hundley and one of the things they did together was making a mess in George's bedroom. Ted groaned, muttered 'I'll clean this up later,' under his breath before scooping the primate up in his arms and settling down on the couch. Together, they watched a few episodes of the show they'd started before Ted left to go shower.

As the water trickled down his body and he lathered the shampoo onto his hair, Ted recounted key points from his meeting. The new Invention of Cooking exhibit would be one of their grandest yet; aside from collecting hundreds of utensils, tools, and recipes from all around the world and from different points in history, they would also be flying in top culinary experts and food history enthusiasts for the opening. Having so many people come in and also having the entire gallery focused on food itself meant that they would have to bring caterers in, and obviously, Ted knew no one better to perform the task than the Pisghettis. He'd have to drop by their restaurant after work tomorrow to discuss the appetizers, main course, and dessert platters that they'd be serving. Aside from that, there were still a bajillion other things to do and only a month left to do it. He was losing his mind the more often he was left alone with it.

Once he got out, he tied a towel along his waist and ran another through his hair before making his way to the kitchen to make dinner. He only needed to heat up what he'd made the day before anyway, so he split the leftovers into two bowls and threw them in the microwave. While it was in there, he changed into his loose sleeveless shirt paired with his boxers; all his signature yellow. He made his way back to the kitchen before calling George over, and they made light conversation as they ate.

Later on in the evening, when Ted had read him his favorite bedtime story and tucked him into bed, he clambered onto the balcony and started to water his mini-garden. Halfway into this routine, he paused and looked beyond the railings to the brightly lit streets below him. In combination with the chill air, it was enough to make even the toughest day seem so distant from where he was now. Keyword: was. Ted had originally purchased the apartment solely for the view, but now he just felt lonely gazing down at it. He wished he had someone to share it with. There was always George, and he wouldn't trade that little guy for anything, but you could only converse with a monkey so many times. He longed for someone to be by his side, to have deep conversations, and also to joke around with. Someone who could do more than nod and make a few, albeit cute, sounds.

His mind flickers to an image of you for a millisecond. Then, he finishes watering all the plants and shuffles towards his cold, empty bed for another night.

You knock on the door anxiously, your gaze focused on the couple sitting at the dinner table in front of you. "Excuse me, I'm here for the interview?"

"Ah, you must be Y/N!" Netti, as you learn her name to be, says as she leads you to where her husband is sitting. "How was the flight, dear? Thank you for visiting on such short notice."

You wave her off, "My pleasure, I've been meaning to visit here anyway. You guys did me a favor!" Uh-oh. Was that too much? Possibly too little? They didn't seem to mind, both of them making polite conversation with you as Chef Pisghetti contentedly petted the kitten on his lap. They were extremely nice, you'd noted. Much better than some of the past bosses you'd had. At least, you'd hope they would be your bosses. Another thing you noticed was how each time one was speaking, the other would put their undivided attention on them and their eyes shone with adoration. It showed just how comfortable and in love they were with each other, and a fuzzy feeling filled your chest.

"Let's get into business, Y/N," Pisghetti says once the conversation fizzles out. "Your resume's extremely impressive; 4 years of school in Le Cordon Bleu and The Culinary Arts School of Ontario? Apprenticeship at the CN Tower? Ammazza! You're brilliant!" He grins sheepishly and you smile back in return. "I have one question though," He makes an inquisitive face.

"Yes?" Stress builds in your chest, scared of what was to come.

He throws his hands in the air excitedly. "When can you start?"

That's how you find yourself getting a pseudo-training session from the two for the rest of the time. The restaurant was closed for the day, so you got to learn the layout of their kitchen, how Pisghetti cannot accept anything less than perfection (which suits you fine anyway being a perfectionist yourself), and even take a tour through their spectacular rooftop garden. A lush green farm amidst the busy streets of New York, could you imagine? Most importantly of all, you learn about Gnocchi, the Pisghetti's kitten. The cutie had been saved from a tree by one of their firefighter friends a few months back, and once the pair had seen her they couldn't look back. Gnocchi was now part of their routine and soon would be a part of yours too. Everything revolved around the spoiled but loveable creature.

By the time it rolled around to half past 5, the Pisghetti's handed you some food so you wouldn't have to spend another day eating cup noodles and microwaveable mac and cheese and allowed you to hang your apron up. However, just as you said your goodbyes and were about to walk through the kitchen door, you heard a jingle come from the main dining area. "That's weird," You said to Netti and the chef went out to greet whoever came by. "Weren't you guys closed?"

"Don't worry about it tesoro mio, it's probably our friends. They told us they were going to drop by."

You nodded your head and hugged Netti one last time before making your way to the front entrance. At first, the odd and lanky yellow shape didn't register as anything familiar in your peripheral vision. It was only when the figure turned around to acknowledge you that you felt the wind get knocked out of your lungs. Your mouth felt dry and your knees felt weak as your eyes snagged onto those of the man in front of you. You felt zaps from his staring register in your brain, sending tingles down your spine to the tips of your toes.

Who knew that after so long, Ted Shackleford would still have the same effect on you?

It was strange. He always thought that, if he saw you again, he'd feel the same anger and resentment as he did when you left. But as your eyes connect and lock onto yours, all he feels is the sharp pain of old wounds reopening. An eternal flame of longing was reignited within him, surrounded by a moat of suffering.

After picking George up from Professor Wiseman's office after work, they made the journey to the Pisghetti's diner so that he could muck around for a bit with Gnocchi and Ted could discuss the menu for the opening with the chef. He'd called in beforehand to ask them if he should drop by the apartment or the restaurant, and they told him they'd be in the latter. Something about an interview with a girl who flew in? He didn't know. Forget pushing it to the back of his head, he'd thrown the piece of information out completely.

Pushing through the red door, the duo was soon joined by Pisghetti. George soon ran off once he spotted Gnocchi, making happy little monkey noises while doing so, whereas Ted settled down with Pisghetti and they had a light banter. "Like I was saying, Chef," Ted said. "I want you to go all out with this. Give it the full Pisghetti treatment. I'm thinking maybe 5 courses if you're up for it, some cleansers in between."

The cook nodded excitedly as he launched into his plan. "I've already been testing for this one recipe - I'll probably serve it as an appetizer - something I'm calling my giardino sliders. Oh, you'll love it! È magnifico!"

Had it not been for him keeping an eye out for George, he probably wouldn't have noticed the figure quietly making her way out of the kitchen. But he did. And once his eyes spotted her, his face turned to her and his jaw dropped. Pisghetti was unbothered at first, but once he realized the other wasn't responding anymore, his head shot up and he looked between the two of you, not sending the tension. "Ah, Y/N, this is Ted. He's a friend of mine. Teddy, this is Y/N - our new hire." He paused for a moment. "Hey, since she's going to help me make all of this anyway, maybe Y/N should join us here. What do you think?" Before either could reply, Netti called her husband from the kitchen and he shuffled his way to her.

Then, for the first time in 6 years, you and Ted Shackleford were in the same room together.

It was the latter that first broke the ice. "Y/N..."

"Please don't say anything." You mumble out, clearly uncomfortable as you shift from one leg to the other.

Ted's heart sank. He'd say this is not how he'd envisioned your reunion, but that would mean he'd have to admit he imagined it in the first place.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, that sounded rude as hell." You say, shaking your head. "I mean, please don't tell Chef Pisghetti anything. I really, really need this job, Ted." You stared at him with your pleading eyes. Ted could only nod in return.

"Um, anyway. How- how are you?" You say, biting your lip.

"Good. Uh, I'm a museum director now. At the Met. Metropolitan Museum. Of Art." He choked out, barely being able to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah, I saw a picture. You had a monkey in your hands and said something about coming by for an exciting afternoon."

"That's George, he's actually mine. In fact, he's around here somewhere. Where'd he go? George?"

After a few seconds, you felt a tug at the hem of your dress. You looked down to see the young simian from the pamphlet happily meeting your sight before rushing to sit on Ted's lap. "I adopted him about 2 years ago, he's been with me since." He said while George nuzzled into the man's arms (is it logical to be jealous of a monkey?).

You genuinely grin, "He's sweet. Wasn't expecting you to have a monkey but I guess it makes sense."

"I really don't think you have a clue about who I am." He replied, almost snappily. His eyes widen as he realizes the implications of his words.

Silence. Your heart pounded inside of your chest.

Chef Pisghetti thankfully walked in at that moment, "Mi dispiace, Netti was having some trouble with one of the recipes - or rather, some trouble reading my handwriting." He giggled to himself. "Anyway, Y/N, I've kept you waiting long enough. You can go, I understand you're tired. You can join us for another meeting, see you tomorrow. Ciao!" He said.

Nodding your head meekly and uttering out a soft 'thanks', you hurried out of there. You weren't tired, actually, but you couldn't stand being around Ted for another second. Could this get any worse?

Lucky for you, Ted didn't come back the next day. The entire week, really. Or the next. George would pop by from time to time, with you quickly getting fond of the silly guy, but his owner (dad?) was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was for the best. You don't need to be digging up any trauma, especially right now.

This good luck streak would end when Pisghetti asked you to hand deliver a parcel. To Ted. At the Met. It was cruel, how life was treating you. After two weeks of blissfully testing and experimenting with recipes once the restaurant had closed, fate had decided you were having too much of a fun time and sent down a terrible idea to shake things up a little, knowing you couldn't say no. You sigh as you hold the large box in your hands and climbed up the steps, hoping to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. It was once again after 5 and you craved nothing but the leftovers in the fridge (nowadays, you prefer to leave the cooking at work) and the new season of your favorite show.

"Excuse me, ma'am," An old white man dressed in an even whiter lab coat approached you. "No food allowed on the premises, please."

"Ah, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," You say, reasoning with him. "These are for Ted. Ted Shackleford? I believe he's the director?"

The man nodded his head in understanding, "Ah, yes! You must be the Pisghettis' new girl. Sorry for not realizing sooner, I'm Alvin Einstein. No relation to the big one, unfortunately. This way!" He said, leading you through some smaller almost unnoticeable doors along the wall to get to the director's office faster.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you must not be local if you don't know who Ted is," Alvin pointed out as he ushered you inside the employee elevator. "Not that he's that well-known but people do recognize him in these parts."

"Yeah, I just came here from Ontario." You say in response, focusing on the ascending numbers as you got closer and closer to his office. "Started the job about two weeks ago."

Alvin nodded, briefly told you about the time he visited Ontario with his wife, and when the elevator reached its destination bid you off. "To the left!" He said. "You wouldn't miss it!" You face that direction as the doors of the lift close behind you and see a big door next to a plaque emblazoned with the words 'Director's Office - Theodore Shackleford' in gold. He was right, you couldn't miss it no matter how much you wanted to. You walk over and lift your hand, knocking once, twice, thrice.

You wait for a heartbeat before a faint 'Come in,' is heard from inside. You open the door and come face to face with Ted, sitting only a few feet away behind his giant desk with his reading glasses on his face. For one tiny split second that you would take to your grave, you imagine sucking him off underneath it as he takes an important call - beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as his glasses fog up - he'd clench his jaw, desperate to not moan and ruin your cover. God, he looked so fucking hot in his seat, even the absurd yellow suit draping over his curves and muscles deliciously.

His words snap you out of reality. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was expecting the Chef, I would've cleaned up a bit more had I known it was you. Come, sit. You're just in time for, err, linner?" He motions toward the seat in front of him, taking off his glasses to your disappointment.

You are about to protest when Ted shrugs you off. "Listen, I- I wanted to apologize. That was really rude of me to snap at you like that. You know that I'm not that type of person." He says, fiddling his thumbs.

"It's okay. Really, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For not telling the Chef anything. I don't really want to go back to Ontario; I'm kind of dreading picking up all my stuff. Had you said anything about our history, I could have been let go. I mean, he's your friend. He'd do anything to make you happy."

"Y/N," he sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite his tone, hearing him say your name was a treat in itself as if he'd coated it in everything that is good in this world before presenting it to you. "You know I'd never do that. And neither would he, I think. He's my friend but he'd be crazy to give up such a talented person as you."

Your heart fluttered, and you gave a small smile. Realizing his confession, he coughed and pointed to the bags. "So, what have you got for me?"

You walk him through the meals that had been prepared, sharing all the ingredients and ideas that culminated in them. You don't notice how he barely looks at the food and focuses on you instead. Eventually, he calls George in to try the food and even convinces you to have a few bites. Most of the time you talk about the kid;- mostly about how cheeky he is. He tells you how he once got stuck on the subway for the entire day, making Ted run all around New York to find him, but even moments like those are worth it because the bond between them is unbreakable. You found it endearing and secretly wished you got the same opportunity - a second chance to love Ted as freely as you did before, or at least could have.

George left as soon as you guys finished, already having arranged a playdate and sleepover with Charkie for that day. As he left, your minds were too buzzed from being in each other's company for the entire evening that you barely acknowledged the click behind you as you packed away. Ted had loved everything but gave a few notes here and there that you'd have to take up with Pisghetti. You beam warmly at Ted, giving your thanks once more before grabbing the door handle.

You tugged. Nothing.

You tugged again. Still nothing.

Third time in and you were panicking. Realizing your distress, Ted walked over (was his scent always this intoxicating?) and gave it a try himself before he outwardly groaned. "Crap." he said, "The doors automatically lock after 6 for security measures, George doesn't know that. It's stupid, I've been meaning to change it. Ugh. It just - it just became second nature to me you know?" He ran his fingers through his hair. You had to stop yourself from reaching out and playing with his tousled strands. On the other hand, he marched over to his desk and punched a few numbers in, and spoke firmly but politely into the phone. He was met with a disappointing response on the other end, causing a frown to settle on his face. After pleading for a bit more, he eventually returns the handset back in place. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why, what's the verdict?"

"They can't get us out until 7 AM. We're going to have to spend the night here."

Nothing about this was ideal. You were sprawled over on the pull out couch, your back facing him as you try your hardest to fall asleep. Meanwhile, he'd have to periodically pull his eyes from your serene figure and try to focus on getting comfortable on the floor. He shouldn't be complaining, he'd practically forced you to take the bed. Still, being 28 meant that he didn't have the same body as he did when he was 18. He was definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

That being said, Ted doesn't know if he'd really call it unfortunate. When you'd started to leave, Ted was about to reach out and ask you to stay, to take a stroll with him. Reminisce about the past. Talk about why you left and why it felt like you took a piece of him with you. Anything. He just wanted to be near you. It had been so long. His nervous prayers were answered when the door refused to open. Sure, you weren't talking, but your presence itself was soothing.

He heard you shifting where you were laying down and looked over to see you staring at the ceiling, clearly unable to sleep. "Can't sleep?" he asks, giving in to temptation.

Your eyes quickly snap to him, and he feels them glaze over his chest. The suit was not at all comfortable to sleep in, so he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little. He hadn't realized how it made him look seductive but seeing the way your eyes widened as you looked him up and down did cause pink to bloom on his cheeks and ears.

"Uh... sorry, what did you say?"

"Can't sleep?"

You lick your lips. "Um, yeah. Today's been a long day and it doesn't seem to be over anytime soon."

"I understand. Hey, sorry about this mess. This was not the way I envisioned this evening."

"Didn't you say you didn't know I was coming?" You say, giggling.

"You know what I meant!" He chuckles in return. "Is the couch uncomfortable? I haven't slept on it in a while, might be a bit stiff."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's fine, I'm just restless." A blanket of silence covers you again, but this time it's not awkward. You move to sit properly on the couch, essentially telling him you're available to talk.

"We talked a lot about George while we were eating," Ted says first. "However I still don't have a clue about what you were up to when you were in Ontario. How've you been?"

"Well, I did two years at Le Cordon Bleu, but in my 3rd year I decided to transfer." You begin. "Partly because I wasn't meshing well with the other students and partly because; well, I could. I'd been offered a scholarship from CASO, so I did my last two years there. It sucks though, I really thought it would be my alma mater. I bought an apartment but after a year I fell out of love with it and soon I fell out of love with the entire province. So, I applied for the sous chef role in Pisghetti's and, well. Here I am."

"I'm sorry Le Cordon Bleu wasn't like what you'd seen in Julie & Julia - still don't understand what you see in it by the way -"

"Hey! Leave me alone."

" - But, I'm proud of you, Y/N. Your talent overshadowed our town."

You're left dumbfounded. "That's so sweet. Thank you. Truly." You say, playing with your hair. How could he say probably the nicest words you've ever received despite what you did? Surely Ted couldn't be that nice.

"What about you? I knew you were going places but I didn't expect you to end up here so soon." You inquisitively ask.

He scratches the back of his head. "It was all luck, really. I started off as an intern, but the previous director took notice of me and took me under his wing. I've been here for, what, 4 years now?"

"You were only 24?! Jesus, you must be the youngest museum curator ever. Why're you watering your accomplishments down?"

"Ha, I was far from the youngest. I believe that title belongs to a 5-year-old?"

"What? Wow." You say, bewildered. "Hey, isn't George under 3? Maybe you could help him beat both that record and be the first monkey to do so."

"That's - that's actually not that bad of an idea." He says, daydreaming about how chaotic that would be to even approach.

You take your chance. "I've been meaning to ask... what's with the yellow? You were never a big fan of the color growing up."

He falls shy. "It's going to sound really stupid, but I purposely tried to make myself look like a banana so that George would come to like me faster. Professor Einstein told me we associate ourselves with other objects better when we have a pre-established bond with them. I still don't know if he was trying to get a joke out of me, but I guess it worked. Look, the brown boots are meant to be the stem, and the polka dot tie is meant to be the seeds."

You make an 'Ahh' sound, realizing why he'd paired the odd combination together. "That's really smart, wow. But George loves you now, why keep wearing it?"

"I guess I haven't found the time to shift back." He replied, shrugging.

"We'll have to change that. Also, Julie & Julia is a very good movie thank you very much."

He gives you a lopsided grin in response. His gaze stays on your face. The silence envelops you both once more. You both stare into each other as if there were no other people in the world, your eyes sharing words that were hard to put out into the real world. "I missed you." he finally says. "I missed you like crazy, Y/N."

"I missed you too." You say, hesitantly. More than he could ever know.

"Why did you leave? You never gave me a real answer."

"It's complicated-"

"You seriously cannot say you expect to stroll back into my life like you never left after breaking my heart like that." He says, his voice getting firmer as he scoots closer to you. "I- I deserve better. You know I do. I deserve an answer."

A sigh escapes you. The truth had to come out one way or another.

6 years ago, you had an epiphany. You remember exactly where you were; Econ 101, senior year of college. Your mind was in a distant land even as you stared at the professor's whiteboard, but by the end of class, you'd come to a decision. This would be your last year doing anything related to economics; you were going to go to culinary school.

It wasn't that you were particularly bad at the subject, your heart just wasn't in it. Every day when you walked into school, all you wished to do was go back to the 4 walls of your kitchen;- smell the aroma as the onions carmelized on the pan, the repeated action of the knife chopping through different vegetables, the sizzle of the wok as you added oil to it. You wouldn't find your heart calculating the GDP or GNP bullcrap, it would always be there at home standing in front of the stove figuring out what seasonings the meal needed.

The moment the realization hit you, you rushed to your shared dorm with Ted. You know he'd stayed at home today and wasted no time in letting him be the first one to know of your new decision. He's a bit surprised to see not just you but the frazzled expression on your face, but ushers you inside anyway. You unload everything that was on your mind from the last hour onto him and eagerly wait to hear what he thinks.

"I think," He says, stroking his chin. "You should do it."

"Are you sure? You don't think it's too late? I mean, 4 years of my life have gone into this already."

"Don't forget this is the rest of your life, chowder. I'd much rather you do something you actually love rather than something you only picked because of convenience."

"I don't know, Ted... It's in Canada. I'll be there for a long time, too."

He reached out to grab your hands, your cheeks turning a shade of pink that you hope would go unnoticed by him. "Y/N. You've always been there for me, and I can't thank you enough for it. Let me be the same for you. It doesn't matter how long, or how much, or whatever - as long as you're happy. Take the leap, apply for Le Gordon Blah-blah." You grin, lost in his cheerful eyes.

That was the push you needed to finally tip yourself over the edge. He was by your side when you repeated the same process with your moms (slightly less rambly this time). They were skeptical at first - who wouldn't be? - but eventually accepted that this was your life and you were more than capable enough to handle it. He was also by your side when you applied for the program. He'd helped you write and rewrite your application several times, batting your hand away from your mouth every time you got the urge to bite your nails. Bless his heart, he even clicked on the upload button when you got too scared to.

When you were accepted, it was his arms you ran to. Ted has always been your number-one supporter, hasn't he?

Of course, with only a few classes left to go before you got handed your degree, you decided to stick around for the final exams. It was pretty funny to compare your calm and serene mood compared to your friends who were freaking the absolute hell out - most of all, Ted. He completely forgot that self-care was a thing, spending hours hunched over his history textbooks and going for hours without food. His reading glasses were on him 24/7 - not that you minded. Still, you had to step in for him at that moment; prepping his meals, dragging him to bed, and massaging his back every time it started to hurt. He kept on thanking you, but you brushed them off. It was honestly the least you could do, and you knew he would do the same for you.

One night, you dragged him from his studies to watch The Office with you. "It'll help your brain relax a bit. You can't keep cramming everything into your brain." He grunts but complies anyway, resting his head on your shoulder while Jim and Dwight plan Kelly's birthday. It's more background noise, really, as your focus is more on him instead of their on-screen antics. You hear his breathing slow down and his eyelids flutter shut. You tread your hands through his soft hair, knowing that it always helps lull him to sleep.

Soon enough, you notice how you're synchronizing your breathing to his. It amuses you at first, but a bolt of fear strikes your entire body. This time next year - heck, in just a few months, actually - you wouldn't have the chance to do this. Yes, you weren't going that far - Canada was literally the next country. But it was still a 6-hour flight, and it was still a 3-hour time difference. And it's not like you could come over every so often or expect him to - that would create a huge dent in the already little savings you had. Could these moments be your last with Ted for at least the next 4 years? Your glossy eyes turn to Ted's stoic sleeping face.

Maybe you'll allow yourself to be brave just this once.

Slowly shifting yourself to face him, you bring yourself closer. Your mouth ghosts his, your breath fanning over his skin. You stay that way for a few heartbeats, contemplating whether or not this was a good idea. You inch in closer and closer until your lips brush over his...

And that's when you feel his hands frame your cheeks, his face crashing into yours. Your brain doesn't absorb the shock of him not only being awake but also kissing you back at first but caution is thrown into the winds as you pull him closer. Soon your back hits the sofa below and he's over you, desperate to reach each and every crevice of your mouth. You tilt your face to allow him to get deeper, hands over his to hold him in place because you were scared he was going to pull away. His glasses knock into your face but neither of you seems to notice.

When Ted closed his eyes, he expected to wake up to the sight of Dwight taping up half-deflated balloons to the ceiling - not the most beautiful woman in the world kissing him. And really, what could he have done except kiss back with triple the fierceness? He loves how your lips mold against his perfectly, his tongue running against your bottom one to make you open up even more, eliciting a moan from the depths of your throat.

You don't know how long has passed when you break away, a long strand of saliva connecting your bruised lips. His hands fall to your waist, his face nuzzling your neck. You revel in his glow, reminding yourself that it wouldn't be long before you'd have to give him up. You couldn't handle a distance of 3000 km, and he didn't deserve that either. You should not have done this. You start tearing up, feeling as if the walls are closing in around you, popping the bubble surrounding the both of you.

Out of nowhere, Ted feels a wetness on his cheek. "What the - Y/N, are you okay? What happened?" You gently nudge him off your body, wiping the tears from your face.

"Nothing, I'm fine. You should go sleep, you have an exam soon." You say, turning around and making your way to your room without waiting for a reply. You still can't believe that you left him confused and heartbroken on the couch from something you had done to him. That night had been the worst of your life.

Exam season came and went, neither of you bringing up what happened and in all honesty, you tried avoiding him just as much as you could. The system you had built was working relatively well, you would only see him in the morning right before the both of you left for your exams. You'd leave leftovers for him in the fridge with a brief note taped on his fridge, but that's where your contact stopped. Every so often, when you were getting ready in the morning, you'd see him from the corner of your eye trying to reach out to you opening his mouth as if he was going to say something.

But he never did.

You started packing up your room the day you were done with your exams. You'd turned down a celebratory night out with your friends, feeling the need to leave as soon as you could. What use was staying here anyway? No, now was the time to shove your belongings in boxes and start arranging your flight back home, arriving much earlier than expected. It wasn't a permanent solution since Ted lived right next to you, but it would work for now.

That's how Ted found you just over an hour later. By that point, your room was mostly bare save for some of your essentials sitting out on your desk. He had just returned home, about to use the washroom when he heard some weird shuffling from the direction of your bedroom. A bit alarmed, he rushed to you, only to see you stacking your suitcases on top of each other. You stop in your tracks when you see him, expecting him to be gone for at least another two hours. "Oh. Hey."

"Hi...? What's going on?"

"Uh, I'm going back home for a bit. Probably the day after tomorrow."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, you're not staying for graduation? It's only two weeks from now."

"Yeah, but that's not really important to me." He clenches his jaw.

"Well, I suppose you would want to spend as much time with your parents before you go."

"Sure, yeah." You lie through your teeth. He was right, of course, but that wasn't the reason why. "How long are you here for?"

"A little after graduation, I think. Have a few job positions available, I'll need to go check them out."

"Oh, makes sense."

The conversation comes from a standpoint. Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you fiddle with your suitcase. "Y/N," He begins, sucking in a deep breath.

"Yes?" You say, biting your lip.

"Could you wait for me before you go? We could just, like, hang out?" He says nervously.

Oh god.

"Of course, Ted." You say unsure of what would come of the promise.

"Thank you." He adds, relieved.

Just as he's about to leave, you call out for him. "I don't know if I'm going to see you tomorrow, so, um. Bye. For now." If only he knew the true intent of those words.

He looks at you skeptically but returns the sentiment anyway. "Bye, Y/N."

True to your word, you didn't see Ted the next day, finally being dragged out of your cocoon by your other friends. You didn't see him the day of your flight either, not really knowing where he was. Once you'd lugged all your belongings outside, you paused to look over the apartment. A deep sadness instills within you - this was the place where Ted and you had spent the last 4 years of your life. He'd coached you through several panic attacks on that very table, you had spent hours behind that stove cooking whatever your heart desired, and the picture of the both of you still hung over the crack in the wall that came with the place. That sofa was the same place the both of you slumped over after a hard day to catch up on whatever you were watching and, very recently, where you'd both shared a brain-melting kiss.

You shake your head of these thoughts, it was time to move on. You had just been accepted into your dream school, why were you acting like your entire life was ending? Previously, you'd contemplated leaving him a note, but that didn't feel necessary anymore. You'd already said what you needed to say that night.

Wrapping your hands around the door handle, you say goodbye to the place one last time before locking it shut. As you load everything onto the small elevator, you hope that goodbye extends to Ted too.

The next two weeks have you fall into a pattern. You'd wake up and have breakfast with your parents before tagging along with either of them on any errands they needed to do. Sometimes that meant going with your mom to the grocery store or helping your mama in the soup kitchen a few streets away. Your days were dedicated to spending time with them, but your nights were left empty. It was really a matter of time before Ted occupied your mind during those times. You'd wake up and fall asleep to memories of him;- your best friend, your crush, your rock. The thought has you laughing. Despite the last 20 years of being friends, this was the legacy he'd left on you - and you had no one but yourself to blame. Funny how life works sometimes.

The day before you left, the Shacklefords came over to see you. You'd seen them at various points since you'd been back but this was the first time all of you were settling down in a room together. You didn't mind, these people were literally your second set of parents. The 5 of you discussed various topics over dinner; how your decision was so unexpected, how they would support you no matter what, how your brother was doing, if their other kids were coming for Ted's graduation party, etc.

"Oh yeah, how was the graduation by the way?" Your mama says. "Y/N robbed us of attending it," she adds, giggling.

"It went fine - it was pretty emotional to see our youngest reach such a milestone. We are really starting to feel the empty nest now." Ted's dad replies, smiling. "But Ted didn't seem to share the sentiment."

"Really? He looked pretty happy in his photos." Your mom questions.

"Yeah, he was pretty glum throughout it all. Those pictures I sent you were the best ones of the bunch. To be fair, I would be too if my best friend wasn't there with me." His mom says teasingly. You force a smile.

The conversation continues to flow around you but you let yourself simmer in that comment. No one except your parents knew that you were leaving tomorrow; they were extremely confused by your request but promised to not tell. His mom's remark was meant all in good jest, but now you're terrified of her reaction to the news that you left before saying a proper goodbye to her son. It would be fair, you felt like a horrible person, but you were not prepared for anything otherwise.

The next morning, your moms dropped you off at the airport. They both took turns kissing you on the cheek, helping you load your luggage onto a trolley before waving you off, promising to visit you once you'd found an apartment and settled in. You hug them and go to catch your flight, leaving a piece of your heart with them. Ted may have been your number one supporter, but those two had been with you through literally everything and you'd probably miss them the most when you're abroad.

An hour or so later you're done checking in, and you decide to spend some time window-shopping in the Duty-Free section. You didn't need anything, your mama had made sure of that while you were packing, plus everything was too expensive anyway. No, you just wanted to browse - at least, until, you'd noticed a pile of cute Julius the Monkey plushies in the corner of the shop. Okay, maybe you'd let yourself buy one thing. It could be a companion for this new scary stretch of your life.

You pick one up, fondly looking over the details on its plush body. Ted did very briefly have a Paul Frank obsession, you remember. He would've loved to have this. You miss him so much.

Suddenly, a hand reaches out to grab your shoulder. You jolt in surprise as you turn back, Julius falling from your hands in the process. "Sorry! Let me grab that for you," a wide-eyed and flustered Ted bends down before you, picking up the doll. He offers it to you, but you skip over it.

"What are you doing here?" You exclaim in shock. "Weren't you supposed to arrive in a week or something?"

"I got an offer I couldn't turn down, so I decided to come home early and surprise my parents. But I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. You said you were going to wait for me." He replies in an exhausted voice. You eye him. He looked a bit sleep-deprived, his messy hair poking out of his hoodie. A large suitcase stands next to him, adorned by his neck pillow. It must've been a rough flight.

You were cornered. "I, um, have to go. The announcement lady just mentioned my flight."

He stops you, spotting your lie. "Unless you're flying to Germany, I suggest you explain yourself." He replies in a firm tone.

Clenching your jaw, your eyes fall to the floor. You had caused all of this just because you couldn't keep your freaking lips to yourself. You deserved this moment of humiliation. "I'm sorry."

"You can't kiss me one day and then disregard our decades of friendship by running away, Y/N. What's going on?"

"That kiss was a mistake." You say, literal garbage falling out of your mouth. Was it something you regret? Yes, but it wasn't a mistake. "I did it in a moment of foolishness and I wish I didn't."

This catches him off guard. "No, it wasn't. You would have t-"

Gathering up all your courage, you stare into his eyes. "Don't make something out of nothing." Wow, now you were deflecting. Perfect. You sense anger building within him and realize you should probably step away while you still can. You grab your carry-on, about to turn away when he says something.

"I can tell when you're lying, Y/N."

You chose to not reply to that comment. "Goodbye, Ted. I wish the absolute best for you, congrats on the new job." At least that was wholehearted. You walk away, leaving Ted behind in that overpriced Duty-Free shop still clutching onto the Julius plushie as if it'll abandon him like you just did.

He purchased it in the hopes that you'd return back to him.

And there it was. The truth is all out in the open.

"You should know, Ted, I would do things completely differently now. I am so, so sorry. I never should have done that to you, it was stupid, I was a fucking coward-"

Ted's hands encase yours, and for the first time in 6 years, you feel like you're going to be okay. "No, you were completely right to feel those things, Y/N. God, if I had stopped being so hardheaded and realized why you became so closed-off, we wouldn't have missed so much time together."

"No, it's my fault." You say, gripping his hands tightly. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It was me - I made everything worse. I should have been more upfront with my fears. I shouldn't have lied to you." You cup his face, resting his forehead against yours.

"I would've flown there if you'd asked me to." He confesses, his voice a decibel over a whisper.

"I knew you would have, but I couldn't expect something of that scale from you." You reply. "You deserved to live your own life."

"When will you realize that you are my lifeline?"

"Fuck, don't say that... in some cruel and fucked up way, I'm kind of glad it worked out. I mean, think about it. You wouldn't have gotten George or this gigantic office!" You leave the warmth of his embrace, widening your arms to emphasize its size. He snickers, acknowledging that you have a point.

You spot something from the corner of your eye. Your hands reluctantly left their position and you reach to pick up a book lying next to you. Following your line of vision, Ted watches as you pick up and rotate the book in your hands. "Oh no, that's George's favorite nighttime story. He probably got it to read with Charkie but left it behind." He says, worriedly. He sees in your eyes, though, that that's not what intrigued you.

"You kept it? The book I gave you?" You say, staring at him with the rawest emotions anyone could ever see. There it was; the same look you'd given him when you'd fallen off the bike.

"It's you, chowder." He says, returning the stare. "It's always been you."

In a split second, you push your lips against his. You move the book aside and find your spot on the back of his head, playing with his hair. His travels further down your back until they meet your ass, caressing your cheeks and tugging them to be closer to him. This. This is what bliss felt like.

His mouth explores your tavern as if his only goal is to go deeper and deeper until you were one. It feels like the air is being sucked out of you in the absolute best way possible, melting into him just as you did that day 6 years ago.

Then, you feel something meaty poking your leg. Your eyes flow open in surprise and it takes you a few seconds to realize what it is.

"Are you hard?" You say as you pull apart. He squeaks, looking down and turning red and you stifle a laugh.

"I'm sorry, this isn't- oh my god, this is so embarrassing," he panics. "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I swear this wasn't my plan, maybe if we just wait a bit-"

"Ted," you caress his face and he immediately hushes. "It's okay. Honestly, it's kind of hot to know you're pining for me down there."

"Still, the girl of my dreams is finally back in arms-" your heart flutters. "-and this is how my body decides to react. Ugh. We could wait for it to go back down; or if you're uncomfortable having it around I could go to the bathroom and, um, take care of it?"

You bite your lip as you see the outline of his bulge and he instinctively covers it with both hands. "We could do that, but I am open to other options." His eyes widen as he realizes the implications of your words. "Only if you are as well, though." You add, quickly.

"...I'm open to it too," he reveals, and your smile widens.

Taking your chance, you smash your lips against his again before flipping your positions. Your fingers snake down to the buckle of his belt and you impatiently try to remove it, eventually being successful. Once it's off, you quickly discard his pants in the same way. Smirking into the kiss, you run your fingers over the erect tent in his boxers.

You pull away only to press more kisses onto his neck, making your way downwards to his nether region. He lets out a moan when you wrap your lips around his nipple and suck, and the sound sends a fresh wave of arousal through your body.

His flushed face scrunched up in pleasure, your saliva coating his lips, his bare chest dotted with sweat. The sight was simply erotic.

Your fingers slip into his waistband as your lips continue traveling downwards. You tug his boxers off and his member almost pokes you in the eyes.

My god, how was he hiding this in those tight pants? It was curved, veiny and thick. The angry, swollen red tip begged for some relief and your hands reached out to grab it in your hands. You felt drool escape from the side of your mouth as you realize your hands don't even wrap around properly. Your eyes shift to his. "I have to be honest," you say anxiously, rubbing circles on his slit with your thumb. "I don't know if you'll fit."

Those words were enough to send another shiver through his already overstimulated body. "You should know, I haven't really - um - done this before."

Your movements freeze. "What?"

"I'm still a virgin." He says, and your lack of reply sends him into a spiral of panic. "I'm sorry, is that a turn-off? I just never really thought about it that much. I'm so sorry-"

"What the fuck are you sorry for?" You startle him. "I'm sorry for literally everyone else in the world! Have you been hiding this monster in your pants for 28 years?" You grip the tip tightly once more, earning a groan from him.

"To think that I will be the first person to bring you an orgasm, to see how your eyes roll to the back of your head as you ride out your high... fuck, do you not know how hot that is? Holy shit, I cannot wait to feel you inside me."

Wasting no time for his reply, you pop his leaking tip into your mouth and roll your tongue over it. The whimpers he makes fuel you as your hands cup his balls. You bob your head, trying to fit him inside one inch at a time.

You see his palm quickly clamp over his mouth, amusing you immensely. "Moan as loud as you want, pretty boy. What are they going to do, walk in?" You laugh, unlatching from his cock for a bit before diving right back in.

He heeds your advice, letting out the most satisfying moans you've ever heard as he tangles his fingers in your hair. He gently pushes you closer and closer to him until your nose touches his pelvis. Is this what he'd been missing out on for his entire life? If only he could turn back time and slap himself across the face.

Your tongue only gets needier and needier, desperate to taste all of him all at once. You use it to trace his bulging veins, feeling him twitch as you do so. Your hands leave his balls to slip in between your own legs and you rub your clit in the same rhythm as you suck him.

Maybe the sight of you playing with yourself should've been enough to push him over the edge; but it's only when he makes contact with your hazy eyes that causes him to buck into your mouth and finally give you what you wanted, his essence running down your throat as you swallow. "Fuck," he says, surprising you by swearing. "You're a goddess." He says in his post-orgasmic bliss.

You wipe any remnants off your lips with the back of your hand and laugh. "That's my name, Teddy. Don't wear it out." Then you clamber onto his lap and meet his lips once again. He grins sheepishly when he tastes him in you, but that grin quickly turns into a moan as you grind down on him. He's tempted to let you bounce on him till he spills himself all over you, but he knew he wanted you to experience your own orgasm.

"Y/N," he shyly says. "Can I eat you out?"

You weren't expecting that, but who were you to refuse? "Yes, please!"

Placing his hands underneath your buttcheeks, he lifts you into the air - damn, has he been working out? His biceps are so hot - and awkwardly shuffles to the desk. He places you on the desk, albeit in the wrong spot as you end up having to scoot up a bit for fear of falling off - but with a man like Ted molding into putty in your hands, how could you care?

He fumbles to remove your shirt, his eyes darkening once he sees the glow of your breasts in the moonlight. You unclasped your bra and tossed it away without a care in the world, discarding your pants in the same manner. You feel exposed, desperately wanting to blow his expectations out of the water but secretly being afraid that you're not capable of it.

You see his breath hitch in his throat as he gazes at you lustfully, clad in nothing save for a pair of soaked panties. He reaches forward and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, moving downwards to your chin, then the length of your exposed neck before settling on the center of your collarbones. You tingle with delight - only Ted could be so seductive in an endearing manner.

He wraps his pillowy lips around your nipple, one hand playing with your other breast. He's a bit rough at first but eases his force when he observes how you jolt up. His teeth graze your skin and you mewl.

He leaves your nipple and gets himself level with your clothed pussy. When you feel his nose digs into your clit, you instinctually gasp and wrap your legs around his head. You feel fucking powerful for a second, knowing you're suffocating him with nothing but you. You might just climax on the spot.

The feeling is interrupted when he pries your legs open. "Slow down, chowder, we have all night - and, err, next morning."

Just when you're about to reply with a giggle and call him cute, he pulls your panty to the side. He latches his mouth around your clit, giving it some experimental licks before deciding he was doing well when he hears you suck in your breath. He sucks on it like his life depends on it, teeth grazing ever so gently over your sensitive core. One hand keeps your legs apart so he could have access to more of you, while his other runs itself along your slit. When his fingers are sufficiently coated in your slick, he finally plunges inside with two digits.

The loud moan you let out makes his cock twitch.

His fingers repeatedly thrust into you, making a come-hither motion each time. It was really just a matter of time before he found your g-spot, instantly making you reach up and grope your breast.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck!" You curse, and you feel his lips twisting into a smirk as he keeps sucking the life out of you. When he feels you tightening as you near your precipice, he takes it as a sign to switch his position. You feel a warm, wet appendage poking your quivering hole, audibly gasping His tongue travels around the perimeter at first, but then they replace his fingers when it snakes inside of you - twisting, turning and plunging into you.

In just a few seconds your vision goes blurry and you wrap your thighs around his face again as you climax around his tongue. "Holy shit!"

He cheekily rises from where he was sitting, his mouth streaked with evidence of your orgasm. His breath catches in his throat when he sees the mess you're in. "Not bad for a first timer, huh?" You giggle exasperatedly, trying to catch your breath.

You were the definition of lewd at this moment; sweat highlighting the curve of your breasts.

"See something you like?" You joke, propping yourself in elbows.

"I love you."

"...what?"

"Sorry, sorry! I did not mean to say that! Forget what I said."

"Ted."

He sucks in a deep breath. "Maybe it's seeing you after so long but - I can't. I can't let you slip away again. I want to be with you, Y/N, you're it for me." He says, caressing your face and using his thumbs to wipe the tears welling in your eyes. "Stay with me." He hums, kissing your nose.

"You don't-" you start, holding onto his arms. Ted feels uncertain of what you're going to say. "You don't tell that to someone after you've given them an earth-shattering orgasm, you doof!" You exclaim, chuckling.

He feels like he can breathe again. "Reciprocate my love, woman." He says, pouting.

You pull him in for a hug tightly, never wanting to let go. His arm snakes around your back and holds you in place, his nose nuzzling into the base of your neck. "I love you too." You finally say. "It's definitely going to be an adjustment. I've only been back for two weeks, you have a monkey, I don't even have a place yet - but that doesn't matter. I love you so, so much. Letting you go was the worst decision I ever made, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again."

You're pulled into a kiss. This one is different though; not based on hunger or desire as before but rather passion. It feels like an ice cube spreading over your bruised lips. He breaks apart, resting his forehead on yours. "Soul meets soul on lover's lips." He quotes.

"Ugh, you haven't changed one bit, you nerd." You remark, rolling your eyes half heartedly as you recognize the line as one of Percy Shelly's. He shrugs shamelessly, elated that you remembered.

He gently lays you down on the desk once more, being careful to not crush you as his hands wrap around his dick and he strokes himself. He pulls away, slowly, leaning over to your ear.

"Think I can give you another 'earth-shattering' orgasm?" He smugly says, his sticky fingers gripping onto your hip.

"I might just die if you don't."

He blushes before slowly pulling your cum-soaked panties down, slipping them past your legs. God, the sight of your battered pussy was so lewd, but an essential detail registers in his head. "Y/N," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I don't have a condom."

That snaps you out of your trance. "Ugh, I completely forgot." You reply, annoyed. "I have an IUD, but I haven't been with anyone for a while. If you still want to continue, then I'm up for it too." You say nervously.

He bends down to kiss your nose again. "I trust you."

You reach out for his member, rubbing it against your folds with your slick making it seem so effortless. The pretty moan he lets out only edges you on - he had you wrapped around his gorgeous long fingers, didn't he?

He writhes in your grasp, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips leaving crescent-shaped marks that you prayed would remain. "Shit, shit, shit!" He exclaims.

His swearing really shouldn't be making you weak in the knees, but damn it all to hell.

"God, I can't wait to take you apart every single day." You say. "Crumbling before my very eyes. Fuck, I can't wait to be wrapped around you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" He pants irritatedly, arms placed on each side of your head.

"As you wish, pretty boy." You reach out for his hand to plant a kiss on his fingers. Finally, you align his head with your entrance and lace your legs around his waist. "I can't believe I'm finally making you mine."

He cups your face. "Chowder, I've always been yours."

And with that, you push him inside with your legs. The first stretch is uncomfortable due to his sheer size and girth, but that couldn't matter less. You were more focused on how his head rolled back and the loud groan that escapes his throat - possibly the most erotic sound you've ever heard.

It was like he'd lived in black and white before this, and all of a sudden there was an explosion of color and he was drowning in you, you only you-

"Holy crap, Y/N." He pants. "You're so tight and warm and- fuck."

"You're becoming quite the potty-mouth." You giggle.

"Hush, woman. You and your pussy are going to be the death of me someday." He says, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

You stroke his wet hair, grinning. "That's the plan."

"Brat."

"Yours truly."

"At least you got one thing correct." He says, leaning in to kiss your lips. The inadvertent thrust that came with it causes you to let out a gasp, and you're starting to be weary of if you can survive being impaled by his monster dick.

Luckily your thoughts are silenced when his hips start to move; it starts slow as he adjusts to you, but he picks up his pace, pounding into you.

"Ted! Fuck - more!" You scream. Watching his cock disappear into you - seeing where you started and he began - it felt like he had no choice but to comply with your words.

Rolling his hips against yours, he diverts the attention of his mouth onto your exposed neck, pressing wet kisses along before harshly biting and sucking on your skin. It hurts - not unbearably so, but you still make a point to give him a hickey to show how it was done later on.

Wanting more of him, you slowly lift your hips and match his pace. "Holy fucking shit, your dick is skewering me alive." You cry, hands going to play with your clit. You see his face scrunch up at the image, which amuses you to no end.

Above you, Ted chases the warmth of your pussy. The sound of skin on skin makes him feel delirious, getting turned on by the mere thought of your fluids intermingling and leaving a mess on the space he has to work on.

He catches your lips with him, slowly feeling the coil tightening in his lower abdomen. Your pert nipples drag over his chest, sending tingles all over him. Between your pretty little moans, your tight hole sucking his cock in and the sight of your slick-covered fingers rubbing figure-8s around your clit, he knew he had no chance.

Soon he starts seeing white spots in his vision and something starting to unravel in his lower abdomen. "Y/N, I think I'm close. Where should I - um -"

"Inside, please." You say, panting.

And just like that, his hips still and he comes undone.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was a fucking vision - you wanted the sight imprinted on the back of your eyelids. His thick eyebrows knitted together as his eyes closed shut, his lower lip falling under his teeth as his stomach caved in and of itself. His thick, warm seed shot into your pussy in uncontrollable spurts, stuffing you beyond your wildest dreams.

"Fuck, I love you so much." You say unabashedly, feeling his essence dribble out of you slowly. He chuckles lightly, struggling to catch his breath. "Can I ride you? I'm almost there."

He nods his head excitedly before flipping the both of you so you were on top, your palms planted firmly against his chest as you straddle him. You waste no time in moving your hips and he seems all too happy to let you take over, watching your actions through his lidded eyes. You create a fast but deep pace, the sound of him fucking through his own cum pushing you even closer to your end. "So good for me, love." You praise him as he mewls beneath you. "So perfect."

You slump backward, allowing you to grind against his cock more as his head smashes into your cervix. His fingers vigorously rub your clit, making you wail. "Don't stop, oh my god, fucckk!"

He bucks his hips into you, desperate to see you crumble in front of him again. "God, I must be the luckiest man alive," he eggs you on as you swirl your hips. You clench your walls, the friction bringing him to his edge once more.

"Ted..." you whimper. Looking into your glassy eyes, he understands.

"I'm close again, love," he grunts. "Cum with me."

"Fuck - I love you, I love you I love you I love you-" you chant frantically. With one final thrust, your orgasm overtakes you with such force that your vision blanks out. Your hips stutter as you fall onto him, gushing around his length as his cum paints your walls again.

He brings his lips to yours, kissing you amid your choked sobs of pleasure. You stay in that position for some time, with his bulky arms wrapping around you and his softening dick plugging his cum inside you.

Moments pass as you lay on his chest, listening in for his heartbeat as it slowly calms. "That was amazing." You say, breaking the silence.

"I don't think I could ever go back to my hand again." He sighs as you laugh. "Don't you need to go pee or something?" He says, brushing his fingers through your sweaty hair.

"I don't want to leave our bubble." You pout.

He kisses your forehead. "Well, we have forever, don't we?" You smile. "We can manage maybe a few seconds apart."

"Ugh, fine." You say, slipping him out of you as you wobbly walk to his attached bathroom. He watches himself slowly leak down your thighs, licking his lips contently. If he wasn't completely spent, he'd probably take you up against the wall right now and add another load to the stash. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

He wipes off the mess you made as much as he can before arranging the pullout couch more comfortably. He waits for you, immediately reaching out to your warm body once you're out of the washroom.

He falls asleep tucked up in your arms, and as you listen as he softly snores you realize that this is the most at home you've felt since you left 6 years ago.

"I'm glad to hear he had a good time," Ted says onto the speakerphone as he ties his tie. "We're still trapped but it shouldn't be too long now. Thank you for taking care of him, Margaret, it's lucky this sleepover was scheduled when it was."

Ted was the first to wake up this morning, but you soon followed when you felt his tongue lapping at your folds. After another dalliance in the hay, you watch as he dresses while calling Charkie's house to make sure George was okay. Once he talks to him and promises to take him to the playground today, he hangs up.

You smirk as he bends down to pick up his belt, your eyes training in on his round ass. "You know, I've always loved your butt. You should bend over more, it's my biggest vice."

He turns to you, rolling his eyes in amusement. "Shouldn't you start getting ready? They could barge in any time now."

"I would, but I think you've broken me, Shackleford."

"Don't be so dramatic, chowder. Here, I'll help you."

Once you're dressed and have fixed your hair (to an extent), you place yourself on Ted's lap and overlook the view from his window. "We live right about there," he points to a tall yellow building in the distance, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Ours is the one with the garden on the balcony. Speaking of, remind me to water the plants as soon as we get back."

"Dang, if I wasn't too busy bouncing on your dick we could've seen it at night."

He groans. "Don't talk like you didn't enjoy cumming all over my de-"

All of a sudden you hear the scraping of a key being inserted into the door. Ted swivels the both of you around to meet a maintenance worker and Dr. Einstein. "Heard you kids got locked up yesterday. Ted, you really oughta get this whole system replaced." He says, eyeing the two of you. "Glad it worked out, though." He shamelessly adds.

You cough. "Of course, I'll get a locksmith up here immediately Professor Einstein. Thank you for letting us out, Jerry." Ted rambles, blushing.

The man only nods his head and leaves, unfazed and unbothered. Professor Einstein, on the other hand, lingers for a bit more. "You should take the day off, Shackleford. Maybe get a shower, or touch some grass." He says, before walking away, humming to himself.

"That... was the most embarrassing thing I've been through." He says, dumbfounded.

"Get used to it, sweets." You laugh, picking yourself off as best as you could. "I think I want you to fuck me against this huge window, let everyone see how much I love your dick."

"Jesus, Y/N, I didn't expect you to be such a pottymouth." He replies, shocked, getting up to embrace you again.

"Speak for yourself;- did you hear the shit you were saying last night?"

"I really hope you don't influence George to be just as crude."

"Um, wow. Have some faith in me."

He kisses your forehead, pulling you closer. A warm silence ensues.

"I don't want you to go. You just got back." He whispers.

"I don't want to leave." You mumble, hiding your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He always gave the best hugs; the ones where you melt right into him.

"I take back what I said about being apart for a few seconds. I want to be with you 24/7." He groans. How did you get so lucky?

"The Pisghetti's are expecting me at 10, right before the lunch shift. Maybe you should tag along? I don't think they'd mind. Actually, it'd help us if anything."

"Well, Professor Einstein did basically tell to me take a day off, and we do still have nearly 3 hours before you're expected. How about we freshen up at our apartment?"

That's how you find yourself curled up around him as he pounds into you in his tub, your 15-minute bath turning into 35. After the stickiness between your legs is washed off (and a sex-crazed Ted is satiated), you quickly rush to get ready, despite knowing that the Pisghetti's are immediately going to know if something is up when they notice you wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Oh well.

The pair of you pick George up from Charkie's, who only live the next block over. Margaret, the sweet dog's kind owner, is delighted to be introduced to you and offers tea, but you regrettably take a rain check. George on the other hand is surprised to see the man with the yellow hat's fingers intertwined around yours but accepts it happily, even climbing to your shoulders as you make the walk to the Pisghetti's.

Safe to say the Chef and Netti didn't expect to see the both of you together, but they don't make a big deal of it. George plays with Gnocchi as the four of you discussed the final adjustments for the meals in the kitchen.

You try your hardest - you swear you do. But every so often Ted's hands hover over yours and it's goddamn hard to not run your fingers over his soft palms. This doesn't go unnoticed by Netti, but she doesn't say anything. She'll squeeze it out of you on Monday, you suppose, judging by how the corner of her lips turn up every time she spots it.

By the time it rolls around to 11:30, you start preparing for your lunch shift. "I wish I could stay, but I did promise to take George to the playground. And I think the Chef wouldn't like me hogging space for potential customers anyway." Ted pouts. "Should I pick you up after your shift? You can have dinner with us - I'll cook." He offers enthusiastically.

"That sounds good! I do have one request; can we drop by my hotel? I really need a fresh set of clothes, and also make sure the staff doesn't think I died or something."

He kisses you briefly but passionately. "Consider it a plan. See you in a few hours, chowder. I love you." With that promise, he reluctantly leaves.

That night, as you're sleeping and sprawled over him, belly full of lasagna and hands holding onto a rather flat plush of Julius the monkey, Ted makes the realization that he has two sources of snores to drown his spiraling thoughts in.

This time, it's enough.

He sleeps contently, tucked in your arms like he hopes to be for the rest of his life with his beloved (and live) monkey just a few paces away.

"Passport?"

"Check."

"Wallet?"

"Check."

"Suitcase and backpack?"

"Check."

"List of Canadian snacks George wants to try?"

"Check! That should be it."

"You are missing one thing." Ted gives you a grave face.

You nervously think back to what could be missing. "What is it?"

"A goodbye kiss for me, hello?" He says, puckering his lips like an idiot in the middle of the bustling crowd around you.

You roll your eyes before planting a big fat wet kiss on his lips. Even Ted wasn't expecting to drop you at the airport today. Heck, he'd actually been trying to avoid flying; partly because it brought a whole list of complications because of George being classified as a primate but also because every time he'd step in one memory of you leaving would rush back into his brain, leaving him a grumpy old mess. He'd even completely skipped over the Duty-Free sections every time he did have to go somewhere.

There was also another reason;- the gala was tomorrow, and dropping you off was already taking a chunk of precious time that could've gone into overseeing the preparations. Obviously, Ted didn't mind - Professor Wiseman was more than capable of being in charge for an hour - but this event was important to him. It was the biggest he'd thrown in his entire career, plus, it had somewhat brought you to him. He was next to you, yes, but he'd be lying if he said a part of him wasn't worrying about the exhibit in the back of his mind.

Of course, you didn't mind. Truth be told, your mind was also a bit preoccupied with the gala - specifically the food. Most of the work was done, Netti and the Chef only had to fix it up to look more presentable. Still, if it hadn't been for your lease expiring soon you would've extended your stay by at least one more day.

You brush these thoughts aside as you give Ted one final hug. "Is it too late to stuff you in my suitcase and carry you with me?" You ask.

"Unfortunately, yes, chowder." He says, kissing the top of your head. "Though... I wouldn't mind being stuffed somewhere else." He says, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

You hit his arm. "Oh my god, give my pussy a break. I'm going now." You whine, turning away from him.

He snickers, stopping you from leaving. "Okay, okay, calm down. Just one more kiss and I promise I'll let you go." He says before bending down and capturing your lips in his. You stay like that for a while before you begrudgingly pull away.

"See you in a few days. Tell George I'll miss him. I love you!" you grin before walking away to the check-in station, waving as you do so.

"I love you too," Ted replies. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, just as you did that day 6 years ago, but he reminds himself that this time is different. You'd be back. And very soon.

With that in mind, he turns back to head to the museum again.

Someone snaps him out of his trance. "You're up in 5, boss."

"Thanks, Andie." Ted acknowledges, flickering through his opening speech again. This wasn't the first time he'd given one but they were very nerve-wracking either way for an introvert. Dressed in an all-black suit for the first time in 2 years, he only wishes you were here to see him. You'd been trying to push him out of that yellow suit for a while now.

Adjusting his tie, he devotes one more second (okay, maybe a bit more) to thinking of you before making his way to the stage stairs. The MC for the evening, a guy by the name of William H. Macy, introduces him - and soon he's facing a room of 500 people with a mic in front of him. He hopes all that practicing with you and George paid off.

"Distinguished guests, it is my honor to unveil the new Invention of Cooking exhibit to you tonight on behalf of The Metropolitan Museum of Arts." A round of applause ensues as Ted searches the crowd for familiar faces so that he could feel a bit more relaxed. "We'd love to extend our warmest welcomes to each and every single one of you. People from every corner of the earth have flown in just to attend this event; food bloggers, world-famous chefs, historians of different specialties, and so forth. A diverse palette of company, really - but all of us, including me, are united by one thing." He pauses to draw the audience in. "None of us know what I'm going to say!"

That earns a cackle from the horde, the most distinct being George. That soothes his nerves, but it's hard to spot the monkey with all these bright lights flashing in his face. "Plans for this new extension date back to several years ago, so seeing everyone stand in it is a very special moment for all of us who have been dedicatedly working on it. We hope that you enjoy immersing yourself in how cooking evolved from the discovery of fire to the stage it's at now." His eyes adjust to the darkness a bit, and he notices George cheekily smiling at him about 50 feet away. He was on someone's head - who was that? "But please do make sure to try out the assortment of appetizers and courses that are sure to give you a taste of New York." He continues, squinting to seek out who George was on but trying to not make it too obvious. It seems like they were walking toward the stage. "They have been prepared by our very own Chef Pisghetti, his wife Netti, and my partner, Y/N L/N, who unfor-" George's mysterious booster seat finally comes to light, and Ted makes eye contact with you.

He coughs, dumbfounded, but picks his jaw up from the floor quickly. This was a professional event, the show must go on. "Who have all devoted the last few weeks of their life making sure everyone in this room gets the best experience attainable. Uh, if you have any questions, feel free to direct them to any of our dedicated staff. Otherwise, have a wonderful evening!" He reaches the end of his speech, pausing for the applause before rushing downstairs to embrace you in his arms. George scurries away, picking up cues that this should be a more private affair. "Y/N - how'd you- Weren't you-" he excitedly queries as you pepper his face in kisses.

"I'll explain everything, can we go to your office though?"

"Sure. Wait, is something wrong?" "No, no! I just don't want to be with you, not surrounded by a bazillion people."

5 minutes later, you're back in his office and he has you wrapped in the tightest of hugs. "You weren't supposed to be back for at least three days - what happened?!"

"Don't scold me, but I chugged like 4 Red Bulls to pack up my entire apartment in under 12 hours. Honestly, you should have seen me. I think I set a world record, but anyway. I brought what I could - all the boxes are in the restaurant - but my friends are going to have to sell my couch and bed and blah blah. Whatever, doesn't matter, caught a flight and ran here." Ted gazes into your eyes. "What? Say something."

"You're crazy." He says, "Why would you do that?"

"You're crazy if you think I would have missed this for the world."

"God, I'm in love with a lunatic."

You beam. "Tell me something I don't know." He grabs you by your cheeks and smashes your lips together and you savor his taste. How did every kiss with him feel like it was the first? Your fingers card through his hair as you try to breathe him in. His tongue pressed between your lips to part them, slipping inside your mouth. You don't know how much time passes before you finally part, lips wet with spit.

"I am wholly and irrevocably in love with you." He confesses.

"Ditto." You teasingly smile.

"Ugh, I take it back."

"No! Don't!" You cry. "I love you too, so much. You are my forever, I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He bites back a cheeky grin, resting his head against yours. "Imagine being so cheesy."

"Watch it, mister, or I'll kick you to Mars."

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course. We'll have to find a spacesuit for George, though. I doubt they make them monkey-sized. Speaking of suits, you look particularly ravishing tonight, Shackleford."

"I could say the same for you, chowder. Where were you hiding this little number?"

You twirl your dress for him. "Do you like it? Had to dig it out of the closet. Sorry, it's not exactly black tie,"

"Are you kidding? The only place this would look better is on the floor."

"Oh, really?" You smirk, turning and walking away from him.

He stares at you in confusion. "Uh, what're you doing?"

"You had them remove the auto-lock security feature thing, right?"

"Yeah, the day after we got stuck. Why?"

"Oops!" You say as you close the door shut and slide the bolt in place. "My hand slipped! Uh oh." He slowly catches on to your plan, a bulge already forming in his pants. You turn back to face him, a mischievous look on your face.

"Now, what happened to your promise of fucking me against your window?"

40 notes · View notes