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pyeonghongrie · 2 months

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Last Kiss

Summary: Nights after your last kiss with Hongjoong felt lonelier than usual, it also doesn't help that the longest night of the year happened right after.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Angst

AUs/Trope info: Break up!AU

Word Count: 1193

Warnings: references to kissing

Rating: 16+

A/N: submission for @cultofdionysusnet's winter event!

I still remember the look on your face Lit through the darkness at 1:58 The words that you whispered for just us to know You told me you loved me So why did you go away?

On a cold night one winter, you spent it with your boyfriend, must like any winter, but this was a winter that couldn't leave your head.

His face looked stern, he held both your shoulders to look hardly at your eyes, "You know that I love you, right?" He said, more to himself than you.

You laughed a this, a bit surprised by how serious he looked suddenly. "Of course, why do you think I'd ever doubt that?" you asked incredulously.

He smiles at your answer, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

I do recall now, the smell of the rain Fresh on the pavement, I ran off the plane That July ninth, the beat of your heart It jumps through your shirt I can still feel your arms

Recalling the best memories with Hongjoong, leaving to study abroad, the July you hugged him so tightly that you heard his back crack, pressing your ear to his chest, you hear it rumble as he speaks, "I'm going to miss you, I'll call often, I hope you call often too, okay?"

The warmth of his arms around you comforted you, the steady beating of his heart grounding you just as you needed.

"Of course, I love you." You say, voice muffled into his shirt.

"Yeah, me too." He said, with a tone without too much enthusiasm.

But now I'll go Sit on the floor wearing your clothes All that I know is I don't know How to be something you miss

Studying away from the people you cared about the most hurts more than you'd like to admit, Hongjoong's scent fading from the fluffy sweater you brought with you just in case you missed him. But you found yourself in them more than not. Hongjoong said he'd call you, but you haven't heard his voice since the last time he dropped you off at the airport.

You want to call him, but every time you text him to check id he was free to call, he'd always be busy with something.

Then again, that's not his fault, time zones can be a difficult thing to navigate around.

The night was longer than it usually was, not just because you were lonely, but also because the longest night of the year just so happens to fall on the day you missed him the most.

As you sit on the floor of your dorm room thinking of him, you notice droplets dripping onto the sweater, you didn't realize the hot tears flowing down your face until it soaked into through the sweater onto your shirt.

You missed him, you just hoped he missed you just as much.

I do remember the swing of your step The life of the party, you're showing off again And I'd roll my eyes and then you'd pull me in I'm not much for dancing, but for you, I did

Coming back from abroad was a day you waited for, ever since you decided to transfer to a local university your excitement hasn't quelled, you couldn't wait to see your friends, your family.

And most importantly, Hongjoong.

The party welcoming you back was the warmest welcome you ever could've had, everyone you loved around you telling you how much they missed you, you were so busy entertaining your guests you didn't notice him sneaking up behind you.

"You're back." he said, matter-of-factly.

"Of course, I missed you." You smiled at him, pecking him on the cheek.

He smiled at you, hand on your lower back leading you to the center of the room, the music slowing down as he flashes you his award-winning smile.

You rolled your eyes, he likes to show off how good he was at leading your dances. You were never one to dance by yourself, but who could reject him when the whole crowd is cheering or you to take his hand?

Because I love your handshake, meeting my father I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions

In your memory, you remember the first time Hongjoong met your father, when your dad felt his firm and sure handshake he smiled at him, instantly gaining a bit of respect for the young man in front of him.

That was the day he took you out on your first of many dates. walking confidently beside you, hands in both his pockets as you talk about everything and anything on your long walks.

One of these walks was beside a lake, you were talking about nothing important in particular, he was watching you intently, yes, watching, not really listening.

In the middle of you rambling, he leans in to press his lips to yours.

You're surprised by the rude interruption, but his cheeky smile made it hard to stay mad at him.

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are Hope it's nice where you are

Reminiscing wasn't something you did often, you found that thinking too much of the past only made it harder to move on. But looking at Hongjoong in your mutual friend's recent Instagram post, his smile finally reached his eyes, just as it used to.

Ever since the break up, Hongjoong hasn't mentioned you anywhere, and when people mention your name to him, it takes him a second to remember who you were.

You think back on the memories you shared with him, sad that they slip through his mind while you sit in your own loneliness trying to convince yourself that you're over it.

Looking back at the picture, you note that they're somewhere you couldn't recognize. You hope he had a nice time, where ever he was.

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day And something reminds you, you wish you had stayed You can plan for a change in the weather and time But I never planned on you changing your mind

The sun finally rose, it always has, but this time it was literal.

The shadow over your face lifted as you watched the last of your pictures together burn in your fireplace, keeping those picture did you more harm than good.

Some days you catch yourself still asking where it went wrong. But then again, some things are better left to ignorance.

You still miss him, he doesn't.

Even after all this time, his name lingers on your lips, just like your Last Kiss.

I never thought we'd have a last kiss Never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips

Just like our last kiss Forever the name on my lips

Tags: @kwanisms, @yoonguurt, @shinestarhwaa, @stardragongalaxy, @wooyoungmybelovedhusband, @anyamaris, @dimpledsatan, @haosweater, @starlitmark, @seongwin, @midnxght-sky, @nebulousbookshelf, @piratequeen-queenofgames, @northerngalxy, @yourfatherlucifer, @twisted-tales-of-all, @seumiley, @pocketsky

Network Tags: @cultofdionysusnet, @wonderlandnet, @kflixnet

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harley-sunday · 1 year

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Feels Like Home [05]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 6.2k (I regret nothing)

AN: First of all, thank you for all the love on the last four chapters, it warms my cold dead heart to see your comments and reblogs and just- Thank you ♥ This next chapter is a little special to me because this is ultimately where the story started. I wrote this first (which is so unlike me because I never write out of order) and only started working on the rest of the story after. I really hope you like it as much as I do :)

Masterlist

“I’m setting the timer for fifteen minutes, ok?”

It’s a rhetorical question from Michael and so Daniel doesn’t answer but instead closes his eyes, drops his shoulders, and straightens his back. His wrists are resting on top of his knees as he sits in a cobbler’s pose on a yoga mat in the middle of his home gym. He tries to clear his head, tries to focus on his breathing and the meditation exercise Michael wants him to do but he’s too distracted by the late winter storm that’s raging outside and he ends up counting the seconds between the thunderclaps instead. Who knows, he thinks, maybe that counts as meditation too.

It must, at some point, because when his phone starts ringing he startles, eyes flying open and his heart somewhere high in his throat. He lets out a high-pitched, “Jeepers,” he isn’t necessarily proud of before he blindly reaches behind him in search of his phone.

“Dan,” Michael says beratingly, still in his cobbler’s pose, eyes closed, back ramrod straight, as poised as ever. “You have a ‘do not disturb’ option on there, mate. Use it next time, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel replies absentmindedly, finally getting a hold of his phone. He can’t help but smile when he sees who’s calling and so he answers with an eager, “Hey,”

“Daniel, hi-”

For a moment he thinks she’s calling him to talk about what happened last night because God knows he would like a do-over so he could have kissed her but she sounds- Upset and so he’s on edge immediately, stretching out his legs so he can get up quickly if he has to. He has a feeling he might.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I didn’t know who else to call and-”

“Hey, no,” he interrupts her, his voice more soothing now because he wants her to know he’s there for her no matter how bad it is, all the while hoping that whatever it is has nothing to do with Ellie. Or Oscar. “What’s going on?”

She lets out a heavy sigh and he can just about see her bite her lip the way he’s noticed she does whenever she’s upset, “A tree fell down over at Eagle’s Nest and it wrecked a good five metres of fence.” She lets out a shaky breath and it’s then he can hear the wind and the rain on her end of the line, “I’m trying to keep the girls inside the paddock but with the storm-”

“They’re scared,” he offers, knowing how nervous the herd is on any given calm day so he can only imagine how stressed they must be now. He hears Homer bark on the other end of the line then and he’s never been more relieved to know she’s at least got the dog with her.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice a little shaky and he hates how desperate she sounds. “I need to get the fence fixed but I can’t get them inside the shed and-”

“Say no more.” Daniel gets up and taps Michael's shoulder to get him to join him, “We’re on our way.”

Michael eyes him suspiciously but does as he’s told when Daniel shakes his head to let him know now’s not the time to ask questions.

“Where are you?”

“You know that little creek that passes through Eagle’s Nest on the south border?”

Not even a week ago he would have had no idea what she’s talking about, would probably have gotten lost trying to find her, but now he knows exactly where she is, “Near that old gum tree?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Just-” He hesitates, not in the least because Michael is staring at him like he’s suddenly grown three heads and so he turns his back to his best friend and lowers his voice, “You got this, ok? Stay with the girls, they trust you, right?” He waits until she hums in reply before he continues, “I know it’s scary but we’ll be there soon, ok? I’m not letting anything happen to you or the girls.”

“Ok,” she whispers and his heart, oh his heart.

“Ok.” He motions for Michael to follow him downstairs. “I’m on my way.” He’s about to hang up when he hears her call his name and so he puts the phone back to his ear, “Yeah?”

“You should-” She clears her throat, “Can you check on Granddad and Ellie first? I’ve been here for a long time already and-”

“Yep. I’ll stop there on the way over, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Babe-” the term of endearment slips out almost effortlessly and he hopes he’s allowed to use it- “you got this. Homer’s with you. You got this.” It’s then he walks into the kitchen and sees Blake look up at him from where he’s working on his laptop at the kitchen table. Daniel shakes his head to the question he knows Blake was going to ask and he can see Blake shift his focus to Michael, looking at him for answers but Michael just shrugs and Daniel knows he has some explaining to do. Not now though. Now, he tells her, “I’m going to hang up now, ok? We’re on our way.”

“Ok.”

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and pockets his phone and before Michael or Blake have the chance to say anything he rattles off a list of things they need, “B, I’m gonna need you to put on some of my boots and a rain jacket, get the truck and see if the chainsaw’s still in the back. If not, it should be in the garage. Make sure to grab a can of diesel as well and then meet us back here.” He turns towards Michael next, “Mikey, I need you to gather some dry clothes, sweats, jumpers, take whatever you need from the merch samples in my office and then get dressed as well. We’re going to be outside for a while and it’s shit weather, so both of you dress warm, ok?”

Blake and Michael look at him as if they’re still trying to process what is happening but then Daniel spurs them on by clapping his hands a few times and watches them do as they’re told without asking any questions and Daniel’s not sure he’s ever loved his best friends more than right at this exact moment.

It takes them no more than five minutes to get everything they need and then they’re off, Daniel quietly cursing because the bad weather makes him drive slower than he’d like but he knows it’s better to be safe than sorry right now.

“Where-” Blake starts from the backseat but then lets the question die down, as if he knows he won’t get a straight answer anyway.

Daniel looks at him through the rearview mirror, “I’ll explain everything later, ok? I just-” He looks at Michael then, “It’s a long story.”

Michael nods and pats his knee, “It’s ok, mate. Just tell us what to do when we get there.”

Daniel nods and tries to at least explain where they’re going but the words seem stuck in his throat and so he focuses on the road instead, the rain hitting the car and the frantic squeaking of the windshield wipers the only sound until he puts his blinker on and turns into his neighbour’s driveway.

Next to him he hears Michael let out a quiet, “Ah. Ok.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything because all of a sudden he feels nervous, something tightening in his stomach as he pulls up to the house. “I’m gonna check up on Oscar real quick, ok? Stay here.”

“We’re not helping Oscar?” Michael asks, a little surprised.

Daniel shakes his head but doesn’t say anything and he can feel both Michael and Blake stare at him as he unbuckles his seatbelt, puts on his hood, and steps outside, but once again he decides not to waste any time. He’ll explain later. They’ll understand.

The rain is relentless, pelting down on him and making his face tingle and so he jogs towards the front porch, letting out a relieved breath when he’s out of the rain. He tries to shake off as much water as he can before he pushes his hood down and kicks his boots off. He knocks three times, hoping Oscar can hear him over the howling wind so he doesn’t scare the old man, and then opens the door and steps inside, shrugging off his raincoat and leaving it on one of the hooks on the wall.

He finds Oscar where he expected him to, in the living room, except there are no old reruns of the Price Is Right playing in the background this time, and Daniel tries to smile so as to not upset the old man, “Hi mate, how’s it going?”

Oscar looks up at the sound of his voice and Daniel can see his eyes light up, “Danny, thank God.”

“Did she call you too?”

Oscar nods.

“Ok. Good. I got two of my mates in the car and we’re heading over there right now, but she wanted me to check up on you and Ellie first though, so here I am.”

“Ellie’s been awake for a while,” Oscar says, sounding incredibly guilty. “I think she only slept for thirty minutes before the thunder woke her up. I’ve been trying to get up to get her but-”

“Hey,” Daniel puts his hand on the old man’s arm, “it’s ok. Ellie will be fine. I’ll go get her, ok?”

Oscar nods again, “Thanks, Danny.”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Daniel says as he stands up. He hurries up the stairs and all but runs to Ellie’s room, relief washing over him when he finds the little girl sitting upright in her cot, quietly babbling to herself as she hugs a stuffed koala close to her chest. Daniel moves slowly so as not to startle her, “Hi Ellie.”

The moment Ellie sees him she starts to smile, holding out her arms to him, her voice still a little raspy, “Danny.”

Something tugs on his heart then, not only because she remembers him but also because she seems genuinely happy to see him, and he’s not sure if it’s love just yet but it comes awfully close. “Hi sweetheart,” he says as he reaches into her cot and picks her up. “Hey sleepyhead.”

She looks at him intently, little brows furrowed in an adorable way, and then looks past him as if she’s searching for something. He guesses she is when she says, “Where momma?”

“Momma’s outside,” he tells her with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He can see her bottom lip start to tremble and so he quickly adds, “She asked me to come check up on you and Pop-Pop before I go to see her. A tree fell down so she needs some help.” It feels important to add, “But as soon as we’re done we’ll come right back, ok? I know momma misses you too.”

Ellie seems to think about that for a second but then she settles into him without hesitation, head resting on his shoulder as she lets out a content sigh and he swears he feels his heart grow at least three sizes.

“Let’s get you downstairs, huh? Go see Pop-Pop,” he whispers before he presses a kiss to the top of her head. When he turns around he sees the changing table and he knows from when his sister’s kids were smaller that he should probably check if her diaper is full but he’s not sure he’s allowed yet and so instead he grabs what he thinks is the diaper bag and takes it downstairs with him.

“She was very much awake,” Daniel says as he makes his way back into the living room and drops the bag next to where Oscar is sitting. He bows down so he can hand Ellie over but the little girl clings to him even more and shakes her head, “With you.”

“You gotta stay here for a little while, sweetheart,” Daniel explains but Ellie doesn’t seem to want to let go and looks away. Daniel looks at Oscar for help but knows there’s not much he can do either and so he stands back up and tries again, “I have to go help momma, bub.”

“No.”

Daniel has to suppress a smile, admiring the little girl’s stubbornness that she’s definitely gotten from her mom.

“Come with,” Ellie whispers.

He knows he doesn’t really have time to try and convince the girl to stay here, plus he’s got Blake and Michael with him so surely one of them could watch Ellie while they fix the fence. Daniel looks at Oscar and shrugs apologetically, “Is it ok if I take her? Might be easier that way.”

Oscar nods and leans over so he can grab what seems to be Ellie’s clothes from the couch next to him, understanding the urgency, “Put these on. Take the bag. Her rain suit is in the mudroom. Boots too.”

“Mint,” Daniel says with a smile as he takes the clothes from him. “Come on, bub. Let’s get you dressed.”

Somehow he remembers to warm up a bottle of milk for her before he stuffs a banana in his pocket and hauls ass to his car. He doesn’t have a car seat and so, when he opens the passenger’s door a few minutes later, he hands Ellie to a very bewildered looking Michael instead, “Say hi to your uncle Michael, El.”

“Mate, what?”

Daniel doesn’t answer, gives the little girl her bottle and closes the door because he knows they’ve been here far too long already and he really, really wants to make sure she’s ok. When he slides into his own seat he takes his hood off and grins at Michael, who's still looking confused as fuck but now with a toddler in his lap, “Not mine. Promise.”

“Ok,” Michael draws out, pulling the zipper of Ellie’s rain suit down a little so it doesn’t dig into her skin. “Whatever you say, mate.”

From the backseat Blake lets out a cackle, “You’ve got some serious explaining to do, mate. This is all confusing as f-”

“Oi!” Daniel reaches back and flicks Blake’s forehead, “Watch your language, will ya.”

This time it’s Michael who laughs, “I don’t even know what is happening right now but-”

“Just-” Daniel starts the car and heads past the sheds and onto Coopers Lane, knowing it will get them to Eagle’s Nest quickest. “Later, ok? I promise.” He pulls the banana out of his pocket and puts it on the dashboard, “Give her this once she’s finished her bottle, will ya?”

“Uhu,” Michael says as he tightens his grip on Ellie who is quietly singing her made up ‘Danny Banana’ song to herself and seems to be perfectly happy to be here. He doesn’t say anything else and Daniel is thankful that both Michael and Blake seem to understand the urgency of him wanting to get wherever it is they’re going, instead of wasting time answering their questions.

It takes them about ten minutes to reach the creek and he spots her red ute easily enough, parked haphazardly in front of the fallen tree. He pulls up behind it and tells Michael and Blake to stay put while he checks out what’s going on before he looks at Ellie and says, “I’m going to go find momma, ok. You stay here with uncle Michael and uncle Blake?”

The girl nods enthusiastically and above her Michael absolutely beams, “She likes me.”

“Yeah, she does.” Daniel smiles and gently squeezes Ellie’s cheek, “I’ll be right back, ok?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and jumps out of the car, trying to see if he can see where she’s at. It’s still raining and so he holds his hand over his eyes, squinting as he lets his eyes roam along the fence line until he sees something bright yellow a little further down. He wants to rush towards her but he knows it’ll scare the animals and so instead he starts quietly talking so they know there’s someone coming.

When he’s only a few metres away from where they’re standing he stops because for now the situation seems under control and he’s not sure it’ll stay that way if he comes any closer. He raises his voice so they can hear him, “Hello ladies.” The dog lets out a whine and so he quickly adds, “And Homer.”

“Oh, thank God,” she whispers and he can see the relief wash over her. The three alpacas she’s trying to keep from escaping are absolutely drenched but are at least staying in their spot and don’t seem to be planning going anywhere else just yet.

He gives her a small smile, “Sorry it took us so long, we-”

“Us?”

“Yeah, uh-” he scrunches his nose, “Michael and Blake were over at my place so- They’re here to help.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything else and he figures she’s probably exhausted and cold and he wants nothing more than to tell her to take Ellie and head back to the house, that he’ll take care of it with Michael and Blake but he knows they’re nothing without her knowledge and so he offers the next best thing, “What do you need us to do?”

She takes a deep breath and nods towards the pack, “If we can get them into the shed? That way we don’t have to worry about them escaping.” When he nods she continues, “There’s rope in my car, take that, and also- Grab a bucket and put two or three scoops of the grain pellets in there, it’s all in the trunk. Might be easier to lure them that way.”

“Ok.”

“I only need you here, Daniel,” she adds then with a hesitant smile. “The girls know and trust you but if we bring two other people in-”

“They might get spooked.” Daniel nods, trying to act cool even though the way she just told him she only needs him makes him feel all sorts of things, and so he does what he does best and acts goofy, pointing his fingers at her and clicking his tongue, “Gotcha.” It makes him feel like an idiot.

If she feels the same way she at least is graceful enough not to cringe at his antics. “They can help after,” she says and he knows it’s because she feels guilty. “With the fence?”

“Don’t worry about them,” he’s quick to reassure her as he waves to where his car is. “They’re watching Ellie, so I’m sure they’re on their third rendition of ‘The Wheels of the Bus’ anyway.”

“Ellie?” She narrows her eyes at him and for a moment he’s worried he’s fucked up but then she nods, “I guess it’s probably better you didn’t leave her with granddad. Who knows how long this is gonna take.”

“I’ll go get everything we need,” he says. He throws her a wink then, “‘I’ll be right back.”

***

The feed proves to be a lifesaver and you’re able to lure the pack to the shed within seconds.

“It’s ok,” you tell the girls, who are huddled together in the far corner. “You just stay here for a while, ok? We’ll go fix the fence and then I’ll be back to check up on you later.” You tell Dan to step outside before you follow after him and quietly close the door. You can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes you once you let yourself lean against the shed, shielded from the rain by the overhanging roof, “Holy shit, I’m glad that’s over.”

“Come here,” Daniel says and holds out his arms to you, pulling you close when you step into his embrace, and presses a long hard kiss to your temple. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You shrug but wrap your arms around him a little tighter anyway. It's the first time he's holding you like this and it feels- Nice. Part of you wants to stay here, wrapped up in his arms with his chin resting on the top of your head and your cheek against his chest, but, “We should probably go fix that fence, huh?”

Daniel smiles then, “Wanna go say hi to Ellie first?”

You nod and Daniel lets go of you, taking your hand instead, and leads you back to his car. You can hear Ellie’s high pitched giggle coming from inside and can’t help but smile when you see one of Daniel’s friends, Blake he tells you, make silly faces at your daughter who’s sitting in what then must be Michael’s lap.

Daniel knocks on the hood to let his friends know you’re back and seconds later two grown men and a toddler tumble out of his truck and you make a conscious effort to remember this moment forever because it’s too precious not too.

Ellie wriggles in Michael’s arms and when he puts her down she rushes over, “Momma!”

“Hi baby,” you pick up your little girl and pepper her face with kisses. “Momma’s missed you.” You look at Daniel’s friends then, “Thank you, guys.”

“No worries,” Michael tells you. “That’s easily the happiest, most easy-going kid I’ve ever seen.” Next to him Blake nods in agreement.

“Just like her mom,” Daniel adds with a wink before he introduces you to his friends.

Blake and Michael share a look but don’t say anything and you doubt Daniel has even seen it, too busy blowing a raspberry at Ellie, but before you have a chance to ask if they even knew of your existence Michael looks at you and nods towards the paddock, “What can we do to help?”

“I think we need to start by cutting down that tree,” you tell them as you point over your shoulder. “It looks like only a few branches hit the fence so if we take those now I can do the rest later this week.” Daniel starts to protest but you shake your head, “That’s for another day, Daniel. I can always ask George Yanos to come help out. I just really want to get that fence back up as soon as possible so we can all go home and warm up.” You look at Blake and Michael then, “You two are staying for dinner, by the way.”

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” Blake protests.

“Oh,” you reply with a wicked grin, “just you wait.” You turn to Daniel, “Can you head back to the farm and get the chainsaw? It’s in the shed next to the chicken coop.”

Daniel grins wickedly and nods towards his truck, “I already brought mine.”

“Ok. Perfect.” You look back at Michael and Blake, “Blake, could you help Daniel with the tree? If you cut the branches off first you should be able to cut down the trunk a lot easier after. It doesn’t have to be pretty and you can just leave it where it is, as long as the fence is cleared.”

Daniel nods and Blake salutes you with a grin, “Yes ma’am.”

“Michael? Would you mind taking care of Ellie? I’ll get started on the fence but I can’t really watch her at the same time and-”

“Of course,” Michael says with a wide smile. He squats and holds out his hands to Ellie who walks over to him without hesitating.

You look up at the sky then, a little relieved to see some lighter patches in between the clouds, “The rain should die down a little over the next hour or so, but I don’t really want to wait on that so I think we might as well get going now.”

Without having to say anything else the guys spur into action and you press a quick kiss to Ellie’s cheek, “Let’s get to work, huh bub?”

***

It takes them almost thirty minutes to cut all the branches off but at least by then the rain has changed to a light drizzle and the wind has dropped considerably.

“So,” Blake starts all of a sudden, after he’s picked up a piece of the branch they’ve cut up earlier so he can drag it away from the fence, “how long has this been going on, mate?”

“Blake,” Daniel warns him, not wanting her to overhear his dumbass best friend making smart remarks.

“What?” Blake feigns surprise but grins, “Seriously mate, what is going here? Is this why you wanted me to clear your schedule? So you could hook up with your neighbour?”

Daniel picks up a branch as well and joins Blake to where they’ve started a pile of sorts, a little further into the paddock, “I’m-” he starts, not sure what he’s going to say because he doesn’t even know. He glances over his shoulder to where she’s repairing the fence then, Michael standing next to her with Ellie on his shoulders, and when she looks up and catches his gaze, and his entire body heats up because she smiles at him, he knows he’s officially done for and so he tells Blake the truth, “I really like her, mate.”

“Dan-”

“I know,” Daniel says, holding up his hands in defence, knowing exactly what it is his best friend is implying. “I know, ok?”

Blake lets out a sigh as he pushes his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose, “It’s just- We can make this work after the season, ok? Not now.”

Daniel scoffs, “I said I like her, mate. Not that I’m thinking of proposing to her next week.”

“No, I know but-” Blake shrugs, pushing his glasses back down. “If this comes out before we’ve finalised the Red Bull deal we’ll have a hard time telling everyone they had nothing to do with each other.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at his best friend and for the briefest of moments he hates that Blake is also his manager and always has to think five steps ahead and can never just be happy for him.

He knows the PR-game is always a tricky one, even more so whenever he dates someone he actually likes, but it’s not like they run a risk here. There’s no paparazzi around, no Kym Illman to try and sneak pictures of drivers’ wives and girlfriends without asking, and, except for dinner on Friday, they haven’t been anywhere public yet. Besides, he doesn’t even know if what they have qualifies as a relationship. Yes he likes her, very much, and yes, he wants to spend more time with her, but he’s known her for a grand total of ten days. In the end that’s what he tells Blake, “I’ve only just met her, B. Let’s take it easy, ok?”

“Ok,” Blake agrees with a curt nod that Daniel feels is more to please him than it is because Blake agrees with him. “Let me know if anything changes, ok?”

“Yep.”

Blake looks over to where Michael is standing then, a mischievous grin on his face, “Is there any way you’ll let me mess with Talzo a little longer? Tell him she’s your cousin or something? Make him freak out a little?”

Daniel lets out a honking laugh and pushes Blake back towards the fallen tree, “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but will you let me?”

“No.” Daniel shakes his head, “Not this time, mate.”

“Oh God,” Blake mutters then, flicking Daniel’s forehead, “you really like her.”

“I really do,” Daniel agrees easily enough.

It takes another hour but then the tree is cut up into what seem to be at least a hundred pieces and the fence is repaired and looking as good as new and so Daniel beams at his best friends, “Thanks guys. That was-”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” both Blake and Michael say at the same time with an almost identical shrug.

Daniel throws his arm around her shoulders then and presses a kiss to her temple, “Ready to head back? Oscar must be getting worried what’s taking us so long.”

“Yeah,” she says as she leans into him. “I think we all deserve a warm shower and a cold beer.”

“Come on,” he says as he nods towards her truck, “I’ll drive.”

She takes Ellie from Michael and walks to the passenger’s seat, where he’s holding the door open for her. Once she’s seated, Ellie in her lap because it’s too much hassle to put her in the car seat, he closes the door and rounds the car to the driver’s side.

It’s a bumpy ride back to the farm, lots of fallen branches he hadn't noticed before littering Coopers Lane and so it takes them a good ten minutes to reach the house, both of them letting out a sigh of relief when he turns the engine off. Daniel turns in his seat and teases Ellie’s hair, “You’re a superstar, Miss Ellie.” He looks up at her then, “Just like your momma.”

“Thank you,” she says with a warm smile.

***

The warm water runs out when Blake is taking his shower and you can hear him curse all the way in the kitchen, drawing laughs from you and Michael, both of you already showered and changed into warm clothes already, working on putting some dinner together. Daniel’s in the living room, chatting to Granddad while he waits his turn for the shower, even though you’re afraid he’s going to have to wait a little longer now that the boiler has to fill itself up again first. Ellie’s in the kitchen with you, sitting in her high chair and watching your every move intently as she munches on a breadstick.

“So,” you start, drawing out the word as you turn towards Michael who’s on your left, cutting up some toast to go with the vegetable soup that’s almost ready, “Daniel tells me you guys work out every day from nine to twelve. Is that true?”

Michael nods, “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“I know it sounds like a lot but we also include yoga and meditation and-”

‘Oh, ok.”

Michael throws you a cheeky smile then, “If you want to you could join us tomo-”

“Hahaha,” you reply with a fake laugh. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Bummer,” he shoots back with a grin. “Might have been nice for Dan to have someone to show off to. It would definitely help with the whining.”

You can’t help but laugh but before you can say anything a rather bewildered looking Blake walks into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and a red colour on his cheeks that you know isn’t because he’s nice and toasty. “Here,” you tell him as you hand him a cup of coffee, “this should warm you up.”

He lets out a ragged breath, “Turns out cold water is really cold. Jeepers.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I could make you a hot water bottle if you want? Help you warm up a little?”

“Nah, that’s ok. I’ll just sit here for a while,” he replies, nodding to a chair next to the wood stove that’s been burning ever since you got back.

“I’ll go see what Daniel and Granddad are up to,” you tell Blake and Michael, “I think the soup’s almost ready and the lasagne should be done soon too, so-”

“I’ll set the table,” Michael offers. He points at the kitchen cabinets, “Is it ok if I just open them and see what I can find?”

“I’m not hiding any secrets in my kitchen cabinets, Michael,” you shoot back with a laugh. “Have at it.” You find Granddad and Daniel gossiping about Mrs Mackenzie's supposed date with Mr Maxwell last week and so you gently flick Daniel’s shoulder, “Oi, you two. It sounds like Soap Opera’s Digest in here.”

“This is important information, ok,” Daniel shoots back with a grin as he looks up at you. “The last I heard Mrs Mackenzie was still dating Kevin Holmes from down the road, so-”

“That ended months ago,” Granddad adds, leaning closer to Daniel. “Apparently he ran off with Mrs Clement.”

“The dentist’s wife?” Daniel seems shocked, “Did their divorce go through already? That’s quick.”

Granddad shakes his head, looking awfully pleased with himself, “It didn’t.”

Daniel gasps, clutching his chain necklace for full effect, “No!”

“Yes,” Granddad nods. “I think old Kevin will have to find himself another dentist.”

“While this has all been very entertaining,” you interrupt with a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, to keep him from saying anything else, “I came to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” You look at Daniel, “We can wait if you want to take a shower first, I think the boiler should be full in another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Nah,” Daniel shakes his head, “I’ll shower after. It’s fine. I’m not that cold anymore anyway.”

“Alright, let’s go eat then.”

Dinner is- It’s fun. Granddad’s sitting at the head of the table, with you, Ellie and Daniel on one side and Blake and Michael on the other. Blake and Granddad are discussing the Manchester United game from last week while Michael keeps making faces at Ellie, who’s giggles fill the kitchen at steady intervals, while Daniel keeps feeding her pieces of his lasagne.

By the time everyone’s plates are empty, Ellie’s giggles have turned to yawns and so you get up and pick her up out of her high chair, “I’ll go put this one to bed, it’s been a long day for her.”

Ellie’s not too tired to insist on saying goodnight to everyone and so she gets passed from Granddad to Blake to Michael to Daniel for a goodnight hug before she’s returned into your arms and Michael tells you they’ll take care of the dishes in the meantime.

“Come on, bub,” you tell her as you head upstairs. “Let’s go see if Mr Koala’s waiting for you.”

Ellie’s asleep before you even make it to her bedroom and you figure there’s no harm done in skipping brushing her teeth for once, instead gently lying her down in her cot, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you quietly whisper, “Goodnight my sweet girl. Momma loves you very much.”

When you get back downstairs the kitchen is spotless and you can see Blake drying the last of the dishes while Michael wipes the counter clean and then Daniel steps into view, “We’ll check up on the girls before we head home, ok?”

You start to protest, “Daniel-”

“Nope,” he counters with a smile “You stay here. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You smile at him, “Yep.”

Daniel waits until Blake and Michael have said their goodbyes and made it past him to the mud room before he takes a step forward and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, "I'll text you the address when I get home, ok?"

"You do that," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper because God, you really want to kiss him.

***

“Watch out for that brown one,” Daniel tells Michael with a nod towards Betsy, “she bites.”

“Good to know, mate.”

Daniel chuckles, “The white one is alright, you can pet her if you want.”

“Yeah, nah, I’m good,” Michael shoots back with a grin, focusing instead of filling the feeder with the bucket of grains Daniel handed him earlier. He clears his throat then, “So tell me again how we ended up here? Offering to check up on some spooked Alpacas? You playing house with Oscar’s granddaughter wasn’t exactly on my bingo card for this year, mate.”

Daniel laughs, “Wasn’t on mine either to be honest, but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel offers with a shrug. “I like it.” He corrects himself then, “I like her. A lot. So-”

“Daniel,” Michael starts, hesitating a little then, which tells Daniel his best friend is going to say something serious and maybe important. “You know I’ve always got your best interest at heart, right?” Michael waits for Daniel to nod before he takes a deep breath and continues, “You’ve got a lot going on right now and I don’t know if this is-” He holds up his hand when Daniel wants to interrupt, “I’m worried it’s going to cloud your judgement, ok? I can tell you like her very much and I haven’t seen you this settled-” he air-quotes the word, “-in a long time but you’ve only known her for what? A week-and-a-half? You’ve been in this sport for much longer than that, don’t-”

“I won’t,” Daniel says, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral and not make it sound like he’s defending himself. He knows Michael’s right, of course he does. After all, he came to the same conclusion earlier today. Yes, he likes her, and yes, he would like to see where this goes, but he also knows it wouldn’t be fair to her or himself to take that into consideration when it comes to his future in Formula One. He looks up at Michael then, “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, right?

“Maybe you should talk to her before you leave,” Michael offers with a kind smile. “Just to see where you both stand and to make sure you go into this with the same expectations, you know?”

“Yeah,” Daniel rubs his face. “Yeah, I should.”

Blake walks into the shed then, soaking wet and looking as miserable as ever, “So I checked the fence-.”

“Uhu,”

“-and it’s still standing.” Blake deadpans with a blank stare.

Daniel chuckles, “Thanks, mate. Let’s go home, eh?”

#Daniel Ricciardo #F1 Fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo x reader #F1 Imagine #DR3 #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo #Feels Like Home

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lixxen · 5 months

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Danny Fenton and his gas station job

This is a joke I made in the Ecto-Implosion server and had made pictures for. This is a Headcanon list for that.

Specifically made for @lavendarlily

---

Danny got the job originally because he did not want to get a job at Nasty Burger with Valerie. He needed money to pay for things, as his parents were starting to take away his allowance.

Danny doesn't actually hate working at the gas station. It's not horrible pay and not a lot happens at certain times of the day.

He can't use the trash compactor, since he isn't 18. But he enjoys doing trash. It gets him off register and his coworker can cover reg until they have to work the compactor.

He hates making coffees. They take forever and Danny simply doesn't have the attention span to remember that he had coffee running.

He forgets to pull the coffee a lot.

Danny gives out free slushies to his friends and family. He doesn't get the point of charging them, especially if he gets them.

He likes to mix banana and mountain dew flavored slushie. He did it originally to make Sam pissed, but now he genuinely likes it. He committed too hard to the bit.

He hates IDing people. The company passed a policy where you have to ID everyone and it is the bane of his existence. Everyone argues with him, even if it isn't his fault.

Danny now judges people on what cigarettes they smoke. Oh? You smoke L&M Menthol longs? What are you. 45 and divorced? Marlboro NXT? What are you, a 28 year old frat guy? Get out of here.

When Vlad caught wind of his new job, he makes a purpose to stop in and bother Danny. He orders too much and makes Danny bring out fresh everything. It makes Danny's blood boil.

But Danny got his payback when Vlad went to buy wine and his ID was expired. No wine for Vlad. Not that he'd drink gas station wine anyways, let's be honest. He bought it to piss Danny off.

Danny has arguments with people all the time, as best as he could while keeping composure.

One time a lady complained about how the cold creamer she added to her smoldering hot coffee made it slightly less hot. He had to calmly explain 10th grade chemistry to her.

Danny has had to chase off exactly 16 birds that have wondered into the store to steal food. Six. Teen. Birds.

He's also experienced bird on bird violence that ended with a cup of ranch and other stuff on the window. They held a funeral that day in the fuel shed.

Danny has never been robbed at the gas station. The movies lied and he can't tell if he's disappointed or not.

Danny is always one fussy customer away from going intangible and knocking out a tail light if someone tells him the wrong pump for gas. Just one. He'll do it.

Danny hates the uniforms, by the way. They're itchy and he can only reasonably wear long sleeves underneath during the winter.

Also, the hats are ugly. He hates them. Why does he need hats?

His coworkers are pretty cool, though. They take smoke breaks (camel crush menthols or L&M full flavor shorts) a lot. Not that he minds, but he thinks it's ironic in all honesty.

Ghosts for some reason never show up while he's at work. He wishes they did because it can get boring.

On boring days, him and his coworkers will take pickle slices and throw them at the roof to stick them up there.

There are six pickles on the roof.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #gas station au #gas station

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

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DEUCE SPADE BRAINROT

Masterlist

Warning: I write reader as female

Imagine Deuce Spade going grocery shopping and doing his best to suppress the flinch he feels coming when he passes the hair dye section

Imagine Deuce looking at the scars on his arms and remembering when he would wear his bruises like badges of honour, his nose scrunching in disgust when he recalls how foolhardy he’d been

Imagine Deuce finding his old leather jacket during winter break and questioning whether or not he should burn it to ashes before ultimately burying it deep in the corner of his closet

Imagine Deuce having to stop himself from cursing whenever he gets annoyed because that’s not what honour students do

Imagine Deuce embracing his new, softer image. Imagine him doodling eggs and baby chicks in the margin of his notebook, imagine him trying and failing to learn how to bake cupcakes or sew a rip in his blazer

Imagine him watching romance movies, listening to love songs and reading romantic poetry and suddenly every line reminds him of you

Imagine Deuce spending every night telling his mother how much he loves you and wants to marry you and spend his future with you

Imagine Deuce treating your stuffed animals with the same amount of respect that he gives you and telling them to do their best to protect you from your nightmares whenever he’s not there

Imagine Deuce spending half an hour before every date panicking over which flowers to get you because he knows that boyfriends usually get their girlfriends roses but that’s so ordinary and your so special to him and he wants to do this right and so he just stands there, looking at all of the floral arrangements with the most harrowed yet intensive expression. It doesn’t matter if you invited him over only to study or watch a movie or play a game. You’re the girl of his dreams and a true gentleman always gives a lovely lady the most beautiful flowers he can

Imagine Deuce spending every day carrying your bags and books, imagine him always walking on the side of the hallway or pavement that is closest to the traffic, imagine him scanning the cafeteria for the safest spot to sit before guiding you there with an arm around your waist and your body pressed close to his

Imagine Deuce’s face blooming an adorable pink as he blushes in embarrassment when you coo over a small injury on his body. Imagine his soft smile as he gazes lovingly at the childish pink plaster, which is decorated with baby bunnies, that you had tenderly wrapped onto the papercut on his index finger, knowing for sure that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing such a thing a year ago. Imagine him thinking in awe about how every time he thinks that he could never love you more, you do something and he falls even deeper

Imagine every day being a struggle to keep his savage side at bay, his delinquent switch teetering dangerously at every possible moment and he often finds out a second too late that his hands have already curled up into fists and it’s an effort to keep them still, it’s a battle to bite back the snarl that threatens to pull on his lips

Imagine Deuce still feeling awestruck after every kiss, still looking like he can’t believe that it just happened even if he’s been dating you for months. Imagine him growing bolder after the first one, though, and ultimately being the one to take the lead, letting his inner id out for a few seconds so he can have even more of the touch that he craves so much

Imagine Deuce being just as adrenaline hungry as he was back when he was a punk in middle school, yet whenever he sees you all of his unruly thoughts vanish into thin air and all he can think about is how you became his salvation

Imagine Deuce doing everything he can to atone for his past and being so thankful that he has you by his side, supporting him the whole time and giving him your full trust and loyalty even when his antics get you in trouble as well

Imagine Deuce wanting to be better not just to make his mother proud but also to make you proud - because you deserve so much better than some violent thug

But imagine all of that going to hell the second he sees you get hurt

Imagine some older students going too far with his taunts and insults and picking on just the wrong nerve. Maybe you even get nudged a little. He looks at you but you laugh it off and smile at him, telling him that you’re fine. But he sees how watery your eyes are, he hears the sniffle hiding behind your words, and the second he registers a stray tear rolling down your face - all he sees is red.

Imagine him coming to when Ace shakes him out of it. The red head’s voice is frantic. He looks down and sees his hands stained red and your tormentors are groaning in agony across the floor, their faces masterpieces of blue and indigo. You are nowhere to be seen.

Imagine the look of absolute regret on his face when you find him in the infirmary after getting his bleeding knuckles patched up, his head hung low and his eyes refusing to meet you. Imagine how he would have spent the entire time beating himself up, just knowing that you for sure were going to break up with him after witnessing just how brutal his aggressive side can be

Imagine his surprise when you gently take his bandaged hands and place loving kisses on every fingertip and knuckle, asking him if he was alright in the softest voice imaginable, your eyes shining with concern

Imagine his shock when you whole-heartedly thank him for sticking up for you, when you look at him so gratefully as you explain how safe you feel to have him by your side, how you know that he would never let you come to harm, how you left to get a teacher to explain your side of the story so that he doesn’t get in trouble for being so noble and how worried you were to hear from Ace that he was admitted to the infirmary.

Imagine him feeling so loved after learning that you still love him despite seeing that the part of him that was drawn to violence still existed - in fact, maybe you love him more after learning that.

Imagine Deuce thinking that maybe his shameful past isn’t as shameful as he thought it was since it gave him the skills he needed to protect you

(Imagine Deuce using his past to teach you self defence and how to fight and making sure that you always have a can of pepper spray on your person because he knows how dangerous the streets are and on the extremely off chance you find yourself in danger and he’s not there, at least he knows you’ll have some form of protection)

#deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland

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timeisacephalopod · 1 year

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If I could go back in time in my own life events and not change anything but just show up to be like "hey what the fuck" I'd go back to when I was working at Tim Hortons and everyone kept treating my phobia of bees- and it WAS a phobia I straight up had a panic attack one day, the first I'd ever had even if I didn't realize what it was until years later, like some kind of inconvenience to THEM and I'd smack a few grown adults treating a teenager like shit for something I genuinely could not help. Like idk why so many grown assed adults felt the need to treat me the way they did but if I had the opportunity to go back I'd tell them to fuck off and if they don't understand how psychology works they should shut the fuck up and stop being cruel to a teenager because of their own ignorance. Like sorry you don't know how phobias work, stop telling me to get over it and kill the fucking 45 bees in the store stressing me out the the point of fucking panic attacks, I do not know why anyone would act like that for attention but I assume that's what they thought I was doing since no one took me seriously.

Then I'd tell Lara, Shawna, and Stephanie to stop bitching that they're the only ones who do XYZ because all fucking three of them did all that shit and everyone ELSE messed up their work and I'm tired of hearing about it especially when I've only ever seen me do XYZ thing but when *I* say it-and I've never said anything like it again- I immediately get told off because someone did XYZ yesterday so obviously I should shut up even though I never EVER saw anyone else clean the fucking dishwasher the whole time I was at that job. Doesn't mean no one did but Jesus, I say I do X thing more than anyone else once and get told off when EVERYONE knew Lara, Shawna, and Stephanie organized the back EVERY shift since all three literally never shut up about allegedly being the only ones to do that and apparently THEY never got told off for overstating their shit?? Really??

Then I'd steal donuts because why not lmao, the owner of that Tims also sucks and should be legal to steal his stuff donuts or his houses or his cars or his wife, either way 😂😂😂

#winters ramblings #seriously though i think about that job and the way i was treated as a TEENAGER and i want to slap a lot if adults #that should have known better like what the fuck. that diesnt even get inti being CONSTANTLY berated over drive thru times #either. the goal was 24 secinds and we usually hovered around 30-32 and 6-8 seconds was enough to treat us like GARAGE #if i went back in time 200% id look rob in his stuoid face and tell him if 6-8 second will break this business it DESERVES to be broken #because it ckearly wasnt built well if 6-8 seconds if waiting for food can kill it #hell i wish i quit that job in grand fashion instead if just leaving that job fucking SUCKED and so did everyone in it

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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I watch the clock above the whiteboard as the minute hand inches closer and closer to twelve. Four seconds, three seconds, two seconds…

It’s five. My chair scrapes against the linoleum and I start running. Past Mr. Doherty’s desk, out the door, into the hallway, down the stairs, damn it why is this school so big? Another hallway, a foyer, the front entrance…

“Don’t forget to sign out!” The secretary calls after me and I huff and turn back around, yanking my student ID card out of my pocket and slamming it into the sign-in machine, and then I hurry out, down the steps, out the gate and onto the rush hour Clontarf streets.

The air is like daggers on my face and my school bag is weighed with a ton of books. My stupid trousers and my stupid blazer are slowing me down too, as is having to wait for the stupid green man at the stupid pedestrian crossing. I don’t bother in the end, I just swerve through traffic and give the woman in the SUV who blows her horn at me the middle finger.

The house is so far up the Howth Road that it might as well be in Killester, and I sprint the whole way with my bag jostling, as commuters alighting the buses onto the darkened winter streets glance at me with dull surprise as I thunder past them and shove through the gates of a little enclave community of Georgian houses concealed from the road.

I knock on the door of number two.

“Oh, we thought you’d forgotten about us,” Ivy’s piano teacher looks rightfully perturbed when she answers.

I have to cling onto the doorframe and catch my breath, “I’m so sorry, they made me stay behind at school.”

“It’s ten past five, her lesson ended forty minutes ago. I had her sitting in for the entire duration of the lesson after hers.”

“I know, I know,” I wheeze, “Is she okay?”

“Well she’s a little upset,” She goes through the hallway door to retrieve my teary eyed sister from the practice room. “We thought you forgot about her, actually I tried to phone you several times…”

“Ivy…” I hold my hand out to her and she regards me with a furious clenched jaw and a hot, teary face. She fists her hands into my blazer and shoves her face into it so that her teacher won’t see her crying and I just lamely pat her shoulder in apology. “Um, well, I’ll pay you the money anyway, I’ll give you double for the trouble…”

“No, just the usual is fine.” Her teacher says with pursed lips, “These things happen but just know I’m on a schedule, and I’m not a babysitter…”

“I know, again, I’m so sorry. Thank you for looking after her, I… it won’t happen again. I’ll be on time next week.”

“I’m certain you will.”

Ivy tries to make me carry her home on my back as reparations, but I beg her for mercy after two minutes because she is not three and tiny anymore, my bag weighs as much as her and I’m still so gruesomely hungover that I’m not sure how far I can even carry my own body without needing to crumple up in a heap on the ground. She’s merciful today and lets me away with it, possibly because she can tell I’m off, but she doesn’t let me forget what I put her through.

“I want you to make me pizza tonight,” she demands, “With pepperoni, and not chorizo like you got last time, it’s not the same. I want pepperoni. And do you remember that time you got that packet of it with spicy pepper around the outside? Well I don’t want that either.”

“Uh huh, how about you give me a break?”

“You left me at my piano lesson!”

“Yeah, I recall.”

She peers up at me, “Are you sick? You look horrible.”

“Thanks for that. Yeah, I am. I think I ate something funny.”

“Oh…” She looks troubled, “Well can you still make me pizza?”

The idea of going through the effort of the flour and the dough and the tomato sauce makes me feel slightly faint, “How about I buy you a pizza instead? Yeah? And I don’t mean a frozen one from the supermarket, I mean one from the Italian pizzeria down in the village.”

She gasps.

“But you have to eat it in the restaurant. We’re not bringing it home and getting caught out by leaving the box in the bin. And when mom and dad get home later on you can tell them that I made you something healthy for dinner instead.”

“You’re a liar,” She says with a sly smile that creeps up her face, “We’re both liars.”

“Yeah, dead right. It pays off.”

“I’m still upset about the piano lesson.”

I muss up her hair, “No you’re not, shut up.”

“Uh huh! I am. When we get to the restaurant I might need a milkshake too.”

“You’re pushing it, Ivy, you can’t push me…”

“I can,” she shrugs, and it’s a fact so undeniable that all I can do is laugh.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that milkshake when we get there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #Jude looks like an actual vampire here #usually he and Ivy have the same complexion lmao #he is not well #hope he's learned his lesson <3

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theknightmarket · 2 months

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"Who wouldn't be angry?"

In which Wilford's return has less fanfare than what he hoped for. TW: cursing, slight sexual references Pages: 13 - Words: 5,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Closing up the bar was the best part of the night. After everyone had gone home, either willingly or under attack from your broom, and the only sound left was the quiet tap, tap, tap of a faucet someone forgot to turn off – that was when you felt perfectly at peace. The adrenaline of work was fun, of course, but reaping the rewards of a 20-dollar tip and pair of earphones made the 2 o’clock chime all the more satisfying.

You unwrapped the apron from your waist and tossed it over your bag. A wayward sex on the beach meant it would need washing before you could wear it again, not that you minded it too much. It was, after all, where that tip came from, and the man who spilt it was almost too apologetic. You’d had worse.

Dimly, as you wiped down the tables for the last time, you lamented the loss of your winter-holiday themed apron.

You preferred the Halloween one anyway, so it wasn’t a weight on your conscience that drew you to breaking into your bar late at night. The work kept you busy enough that you didn’t, and couldn’t, despair over small things. The taxes, the patrons, the staff – they were all great, but sometimes you did wish you had time for yourself. A Sunday off, once a month, that would be enough. But, as you said, no time to despair. There was still work to do.

That night, the work entailed taking the cash out of the register and tip jar, counting it, and stuffing it into the safe, locking all the interior doors and windows, and, finally, flicking the light switch. The neon pink sign blinked once, twice, and died out at its third breath, while you brought out your keys to officially lock the front door. The little hole-in-the-wall that the bar was, it didn’t run the risk of getting broken into too strongly, but there was no reason not to take precautions. You’d heard your neighbors tell you that it was so much a safe town that you needn’t bother locking everything. You told them that you quite liked having money, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell that you were going to pay any more for insurance.

The night’s air nipped at your face, reminding you that you were still standing outside. Your brain, meanwhile, reminded you that you weren’t on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching random nature documentaries. It might have also said something about paying your rent, but you decided to ignore that part.

So, your frigid breath fading away in front of you, you waltzed down the four blocks between you and your apartment, watching the few other folk out and about make their own ways home. A group of teens scuttled across the road, technically jay walking but you weren’t going to say anything, while a ruffled office worker took off in a hurry in the other direction. Probably wanting to get into a safe place with the baggy of drugs stuffed into his suit pocket.

The town you lived in wasn’t a well-off one. It was two steps up from rock bottom, and only because the local deli hadn’t been closed down due to health hazards yet. You liked to think your bar made it better, but there were going to be people who didn’t agree. Those teens, for instance, who always threw crude remarks when you denied them a beer. You didn’t hold it against them. How could you, when you had done the same thing once or twice when you were a kid. It didn’t bother you anymore, so why not wait until they reached 21, or found good enough fake IDs.

You fished your keys out of your bag when you were at the stairs inside your apartment building. The little, pink bear was the only thing that distinguished it from any others, and you ran your fingers over the dimples and nicks as your legs moved for you. Fourth floor, second door on the left. Whistling the few beats of a song you could still remember from the radio, you spun the plastic toy around in the air, caught it with your other hand, and pushed it into your door.

The entry was cold. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you were always reminded of the difference between the welcoming warmth of your bar and your home’s casual wave of air. Bringing a jacket with you was a moot point since you only needed it when you were actually inside. No, you just had to put up with it until you could get out of your work clothes and surround yourself with the fluffiest blankets you could find. You had this down to a fine art at that point, there was no reason why you couldn’t do it from muscle memory alone.

Your keys clattered to the wooden floorboards.

No anticipated reason. None at all. You should have been moving into your bedroom by now. You should have been leaving the line of sight of your kitchen and heading to your dresser. You should have been doing anything except staring right at the man who had settled himself against your countertop with a bowl and spoon in his hands.

You weren’t certain if you’d have preferred a complete stranger, maybe someone with a mallet ready to bash in your head. Something told you it would have been better that the mallet he had poised to bash in your heart with.

Your mouth dropped open and you forgot about the keys on the ground. Eyes scanning his figure, you begged to find any reason that this wasn’t him, but, if there was, you were too shocked to see it. First, came the slow, creeping sensation of confusion, then a dismal sadness washed through your veins, followed within the second by a tidal wave of anger.

In a single movement, you’d scooped up your keys, singled the sharpest one out, and lunged for Wilford.

The fucker was lucky he had those teleporting, magic, screw-the-laws-of-physics powers that let him appear behind you before you cut through his arm. That didn’t stop you from whirling around and trying to get at his shoulder, though, but you missed again. And again. And again.

“Stop moving!” you yelled, skidding into the fridge. It was a poorly choreographed dance that involved the two of you going around in circles, neither graceful nor calculated. The most math Wilford was doing was making sure he didn’t end up on your stove-top, and you were barely thinking, regardless of how many times the counter drove itself into your stomach.

His response of a stern, “No!” went ignored while you flung yourself towards him for a sixth time. You were considering just chucking the keychain at him and hoping you struck gold, but luck always seemed to be on his side – if not for his evading of your attacks, then for the fact that his bowl hadn’t spiled whatever was inside it. Although, just as you cursed him for it and a bunch of other irrelevant things, he placed it near the sink and watched you fumble with the keys. Your hands were sweaty against the frigidness of the apartment, the exercise was wearing you out quickly, but you didn’t let up. He’d always liked that about you, but he was getting tired, more of the repetitiveness of the situation than the exertion.

So, what else could he do but twist your arm behind your back, hold your other hand down onto the countertop, and ignore the suggestive position it put you both in to disarm you? You didn’t stop struggling, to which he tutted and wrenched your shoulder back further. Nothing to hurt you, too much, he just needed you to calm down. If there was one thing he’d learned in your past encounters, it was that you didn’t react well to simply being verbally ordered around.

“Now, why are you so angry?” Wilford asked.

For a second, you stilled. He couldn’t be serious, but, then again, when was he ever? This was the norm for him. Both the prudent ignorance and the method of disarmament. After jostling for moment more, you let out a breath that gave you more wiggle room against the countertop.

“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years.”

Wilford apparently deemed you pacified enough to let you go, and you fell forward slightly. God, your arms hurt. You turned to face him as you rolled the shoulder that he had pulled behind you. Military man. You hated when he actually used what he was taught.

“I didn’t fake my death,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you ate all my cereal and abandoned me for three years. That better?”

“I didn’t abandon you.”

You finally met his eyes. Six feet between you, far out of arm’s reach, you hated that they didn’t betray any lies. More often than not, his emotions were masked by a haze of insanity, but the genuineness was crystal clear, like the spark of lighting across a night sky. It was the kind of purity that meant he fully believed he hadn’t abandoned you, but that just made it worse.

You forced yourself to look away.

“You still ate all my cereal.”

“For that, I am sorry.”

You believed him there, and you hated that you did. But that was the same Wilford who left all those nights ago, wasn’t it? No reason to anything, not leaving, not coming back, not a single thing.

Huffing, you gave up. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and you now had one more chore to do before you could settle down for the night. “What do you want?” you asked as you dumped the remainder of the cereal from Wil’s bowl.

“Can’t a man check in on an old friend out of the kindness of his heart?”

You levelled him with a blank stare. His grin cracked for just a second, but it was enough for you to spot, not that you changed your expression any.

“I- well, I thought we could catch up. What have you been up to for the last… what did you say, three years?”

You took a moment to try and figure him out again. Even if it would get you nowhere in the long run, you weren’t going to entertain him if he was there out of boredom. The little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that you didn’t have to play along with him, it reminded you that you had a job and a home and a life outside of whatever Wilford was swept up in. You didn’t have to jingle around the room like a court jester playing it up for laughs.

But you still sighed, ran a hand down your face, and vaguely gestured to the kitchen counter. “Go on, then.”

Wilford waltzed over to one of the stools as though that was just what he expected you to say, and, ashamed as you were, it likely was; it was some kind of routine you used to have, albeit without the giant gap in between. When you got home from working the bar, he would be there at the stove, cooking whatever it was caught his fancy in the books lately. You’d talk about your day and ask him about his, pouring both of you a drink. You couldn’t drink on the job, but your shift ended the minute you stepped through the apartment door.

Then, of course, after solid months of strange domesticity, Wilford up and vanished in the blink of an eye. Magic.

And, what, he appeared in just the same manner, and you fell into the habit, just like that? God, you really were weak.

“So, how’s the family?” was Wilford’s first question. You didn’t answer until you got the bottles out of the fridge and laid them on the countertop in front of him.

“Fine. Youngest brother graduated; parents adopted another dog.”

You turned away from grabbing the glasses only to see your guest wedging the top off the bottle of gin with his teeth. The cork pressed to the side of his mouth a clear danger, you swiped it from him, tossed it to your other hand and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer in one swift motion.

“You’ll crack a tooth,” you muttered, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t heed your warning as you watched him shrug and remove the cap of the vermouth as well.

You didn’t bother to be surprised when the martini glass you’d seen on a shelf disappeared and reappeared in Wilford’s hand. That little voice, whispering again, reminded you that the magic trick was old hat to you now. You didn’t have to be shocked at the casual manipulation of time and space.

“I didn’t think Danny-boy was still in schooling. What’s he going to be, eh?”

Ignoring the sudden pressure in your chest, you replied, “A pilot.”

“Oh, a ladies’ man, then!” His laugh was more suited to a world war general than the pink-moustached maniac sipping straight from the vermouth in front of you. “I wish him the best of luck.” To which he raised the bottle, and, with a final wink, chugged the thing until half of it remained.

You almost didn’t want to risk finishing the martini you were making for him. You were well aware of how high Wilford’s alcohol tolerance was, but that didn’t make it any healthier. Still, when you had taken back the vermouth and poured it into the glass, you slid it over to him, warily eyeing the rest of the bottles to see if they’d been opened in the meantime. The sight of them all the same as before didn’t bring you much comfort regardless.

“And how’s the bar doing?”

You nodded slightly, your brow still furrowed and avoiding looking directly at him. “It’s doing well. We got a new bartender, she’s… she’s good.”

“Maybe you’ll finally take some time off, then,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, “there’s a new roller rink opening up on Alto Street. We could go there on your next day off!”

That pressure tightened into a vice grip. “We?”

“Yes, we. I wouldn’t recommend it if I didn’t think it’s good.”

“But you want to go together.”

“Is that a problem?”

Avoiding looking at him didn’t help, but making eye contact wasn’t any good, either. You only got an expression of confusion. Nothing betrayed an ulterior motive. You squinted but found only that. Surprise, maybe. You tilted your head one way and then the other, as though an angle would let you see something you couldn’t before. It was all the same.

“What are you doing, Wilford?”

Only more surprise. He laid down the martini glass, a mere sliver of alcohol left in the bottom, before placing his head in his hand. “What do you mean?”

“What is this? What- what do you want?”

A tut broke the tension for a second until it rose again tenfold.

“You’ve already asked that one.”

“Yeah, and we’ve caught up. You can leave now.”

“Well, you haven’t asked me what I’ve been up to.”

“Oh, yeah? What have you been up to, then?”

Wilford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again with a hum. Go figure, he couldn’t tell you. Whether it was because he was bound by some contract, or couldn’t remember, or just plain hadn’t done a thing, you didn’t know, and you never had.

“Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I have to work in the morning—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Your moving away from the counter was blocked by Wilford rushing to stand and securing his hands on your shoulders. He held you in place, a new emotion appearing on his face. Desperation. The smallest amount, but it was there, and it had you changing your mind about shoving him away.

“How do I make it up to you?”

“I don’t think you can.”

You weren’t about to beat around the bush with this, even if it made you the bad guy – the kicked puppy look certainly made you think you were, but you stayed your course; you couldn’t give in so easily.

“I just… how do I know you aren’t going to disappear again?”

“I won’t!”

“How do I know, though? You don’t have the best track record.”

When he moved his hands from your shoulders, you thought he was going to leave, walk straight out the door into the night. It took only a second longer for you to realise he was grabbing your own hands. “This time I promise I’m telling the truth.”

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn him and damn yourself and damn it all. You were weak, of course, but you were weak for the man in front of you with the stars in his eyes and sugar on his lips. And if that man was asking for a second chance – for a third time – who were you to deny him?

“Fine. Okay. Sure,” you spoke slowly, coming to grips with everything that had happened in the last half an hour.

You felt Wilford’s grip tighten at your hands and then release, and that was all that you expected, but you were talking about the time-travelling maniac in front of you. His arms were wrapped around you before you knew it, warmth and his moustache tapping at your skin. You supposed this was some kind of thanks, which you still appreciated. Gently, you lifted your hands to pat his back, causing him to squeeze slightly more, until he pulled away a few seconds later.

“Alright,” you mumbled, barely getting the word out in time for a yawn to overtake you, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Goodnight! Sleep well.”

You returned the pleasantry with obvious tiredness in both your tone and your body. Dragging your feet, you made your way to your room while Wilford cleared up, the clinking of glasses and bottles only making you slightly worried about how much you’d have left come morning. It wasn’t enough to stop you from conking out the very instance that you touched your comforter, ready and poised to forget the last half hour’s shenanigans.

You woke up in the morning. Not surprising. It happened a lot. What didn’t happen a lot, though, was the smell of pancakes stirring you from your sleep instead of the blinding sun through your windows. You cracked your eyes open, only to see complete darkness. Immediately, you jumped from your bed and scrambled to stand up straight. Nothing. You couldn’t see anything. A creeping sense of dread curled in your stomach, wrapped around you heart, and pulled. Where was Wilford? Did he do something, was he okay, why did it still smell like pancakes—

You hand made contact with something covering your eyes. Oh. Pulling it off, you were slowly greeted with the light of the day, as you expected, and an unfamiliar piece of fabric in your palm. It was silky when you ran your thumb over it, something you didn’t think you’d ever touched, let alone owned.

You left the sleeping mask on your chaotic mess of sheets. Overwhelmed by the haze of adrenaline and sleep, you stumbled to get ready – which, given that you still had to figure out that smell, consisted of swapping out the uniform that you’d passed out in for a tank top and shorts. You weren’t fully awake when you got to the door, but you had nothing else to do but get to the kitchen and hope it was nothing you’d have to call emergency services about.

All three of your panic-questions were answered when you stopped at the archway between the mini hallway and the kitchen. The scene of Wilford at the stove, his back to you but clearly flipping something in a pan, quickly greeted you. Sizzling filled the air and disguised your footfalls on the wooden floorboards. They were nearly silent anyway, and yet you were caught as you got close to the countertop’s stools.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Wilford sang, turning to wink at you so that you could see the ‘kiss-the-cook’ apron he now sported. Something panged in your chest, like a string cut loose; you’d bought that for him years ago, back when he was cooking dinner for the two of you. The face of the cashier stuck in your mind, somewhere between amused and sickened, but you didn’t care. The only time he hadn’t worn it when cooking was after you’d wrestled it away from him to wash. And then, obviously, after he disappeared, it was stashed in the back of the drawer, piled onto by old cloths and semi-broken utensils. You wondered how he found it again.

“Did you put a sleeping mask on me?” You collapsed onto a seat and rested your arms on the laminate surface.

“I did, yes.” He went back to peeling the sides of a pancake off the edge and said nothing else on the matter.

“…why?”

Wilford flipped the pancake once, twice, a third time, then pressed it down in a ritual you had seen many times before. The crack of batter shocked the air around it. “Given how tired you were last night – too tired to change out of your clothes, at least – I didn’t want the sun to wake you up too early.”

“And the curtains weren’t enough?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” he tutted, “I’ve seen how much gets through those flimsy things. It’s a wonder how the stars themselves don’t keep you awake.”

He wasn’t wrong. It happened often that you would wake up in the middle of the night, drowsy and blinking, only to realise that it was ten hours earlier than when you needed to be out of bed by. It happened now, and it happened three years ago. You just never put in the effort to fix it.

So, you just sighed, giving up the debate as fast as you’d started it, and dragged your hands down your face. According to the clock on the wall opposite you, there was still six more hours until the bar opened – you didn’t like encouraging day-drinking and four o’clock was the lowest you would go – and, frankly, you didn’t know how to spend them. A routine of stupid conspiracy theories and paperwork was offset with Wilford’s presence, leaving you with the shambles of a normal morning.

You blinked back to life when he set out two plates of pancakes on the countertop, one of them in front of you and the other just to your right at the next stool over. As he rounded the jutted-out edge, he brushed the small of your back with his hand, still warm from being near the stove. You couldn’t help but tense up, entirely focused on that point of contact like you’d been called to attention by a drill sergeant.

Wilford dropped into the seat and handed you a pair of cutlery. You didn’t notice the toppings spread along the edge until you blinked some more times to rid the blur of your vision. Half of them had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard while the other half you weren’t certain you had ever bought in the first place.

Something stopped you from reaching for any of them. Something stopped you from doing anything.

It was a shared feeling between the pit of your stomach and your throat. Like you wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. Manic, you guessed was the best word for it, but even that felt wrong. Your heart thundered in your chest and raged against your ribcage, as though it were the only thing stopping it from telling you just what was wrong with you. Maybe this was just what happened what Wilford was around you, or maybe this was just what happened when he left. You didn’t think you were sure of anything anymore.

“Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

The words struggled against the rush of blood in your veins. You weren’t angry. You understood that you should have been, but you weren’t, and you weren’t bitter, and you weren’t resentful. It was another feeling on the tip of your tongue. But you held onto that feeling because it was undeniably there. You would have bashed your head against the counter if you weren’t paralyzed with…

You were scared. That was it. You were downright terrified.

“Are you,” you swallowed thickly, “are you here now?”

“Honey, whatever are you talking about?” Wilford asked, facing you with that sugar-coated grin you’d always gotten so hung up over. “I’ve been here since last night.”

Just those words made you break into an internal panic. The only way that it shone through was in the frantic movements of your pupils, darting back and forth, searching desperately for the truth in his own. Meeker than he had ever heard you before, you asked, “Are you staying?”

And, just like that, he realized what you were asking, what you were going through. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, and, as he secured his hands on your shoulders, he saw your soul shattered into pieces. He had left, and the memory of stepping out of that front door was seared into his mind. He couldn’t forget, not even under the cover of discos and murder-mysteries, the way that the click of the lock echoed down the hallway and the stairwell, chasing after him when he was out of the building and seeping into the cracks of the pavement. It was karmic justice that the thought of you prevented him from entering any bar from that day onward. He didn’t want to risk it, and, well, he’d already forgotten so much. The few sane memories that remained were ones he didn’t want to taint with similar experiences and get them muddled up in his mind.

Now that he was back, Wilford couldn’t imagine leaving again, not when you were staring at him, panicked and desperate for a response.

Slowly, gently, he brought you closer until your chest was pressed against his. The embrace was tight but comfortable. Supportive. A promise he couldn’t yet put into words. He shushed you as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your own arms tugging him even closer than that, as if you expected him to disappear at any moment – not that it was unjustified. His grip on your shoulder blades tensed alongside yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. On your part, you were too preoccupied with holding back the floods of tears that threatened to spill over at any second. A few had already escaped and dampened his dress shirt. On Wilford’s, he understood already.

The pair of you sat there for five minutes more. It felt like longer, but the clock was barely passing half ten. The most concrete thought that dragged through your head was that the hug was nice. You hadn’t been held like that since the last time Wilford was there. Sure, you’d been close to other people, but the complete relaxation of your body was a sensation you could see yourself chasing like an addict’s high.

It was practically painful to pull away, though you kept your hands secured around his waist.

“Shit,” you laughed quietly, voice clogged with tears, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

“Pish posh! I think we both needed that, and I’m more than welcome for another in the future. For now,” he rose from his seat and gathered your plates, “I’m going to make some more pancakes.”

As Wilford passed behind you, he leaned around and pecked your cheek with his lips. It must have been an unconscious decision because his eyebrows raised, and he sounded apologetic as he spoke.

“Was that too much?”

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated. You had gone from trying to stab his with your keys to crying in his embrace in less than a day, you imagined you could handle a little kiss. And, as it happened, a larger one, too.

Wilford watched as you got up from your own stool and took a step closer to him. He was almost worried you would shove him out of the door, but you did something different. Very different.

In one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. For a second, he was focused on keeping the plates steady in his hands, before he felt the oh-so-familiar warmth of your lips on his, and, had he forgotten, this was a pleasant reminder. He sighed into your mouth as his shoulders fell from their tensed position and he tilted his head for a better angle. A lopsided grin spread over his lips, only somewhat messing up the kiss, but you continued.

You lifted a hand up to cup his jawline, smoothing a thumb over the texture of his skin; the other you used to card through his tousled hair. Your reward? A light groan so quiet that you nearly missed it. Luckily, you didn’t, even as he tried to twist it into a hum. He’d missed this, and so had you. And besides, who were you to ignore the order on his apron?

Eventually, you had to separate. Time-travelers and bartenders both had to breath, after all.

“Oh, honey,” Wilford muttered, slowly but not subtly moving closer again.

You accepted another kiss, and then another when you parted, and then another after that. Each of them was slow and sweet, only half like him in that regard.

“Still making those pancakes, are you?” you managed to get out in the interim.

His chuckle was just as carefree as his other sounds, but he did step back to put the plates by the sink. You moved to start cleaning them as he prepared the next pancakes. The splash of water against the sizzle of batter warmed your chest, and the glimpse of Wilford standing next to you had you grinning ear to ear.

This was good. Making breakfast in a tiny apartment, not yet dressed for the day but content to stay like this for the rest of it – you were happy with this life.

You were certain of it.

[It's weird that this blog has been open for over a year and yet this is the first Wilford one-shot I've done. Side note: this was inspired by @valentivy-makes so you should go and check out their amazing art of Wilford, because, um, you should. Thanks for reading <3]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #writing #markiplier egos #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #x reader #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #markiplier wilford #wkm wilford #wilford warfstache #Wilford x reader #bartender reader #angst/comfort #somewhat similar to the Dark one I did

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