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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

All-New Halloween Spooktacular

Wanda x reader x Vision

"Halloween's a magical holiday," Billy told someone unseen as he walked into the kitchen dressed in a cape. "All about family, friends, and the thrill of getting to be someone else for the day."

"Wrong! Halloween's all about candy!" Tommy informed his brother.

"You're both wrong." Luna piped up from where she sat, eating toast. "It's about scaring people."

"That too." Tommy agreed. "But mostly about candy." He added.

"Where's your costume, Tommy?" Billy questioned, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

"This is my costume. I'm the cool twin." Tommy told him in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Lame." Luna shook her head.

"What does that make me?" Billy asked, tilting his head to the side.

"A dorkasurus rex," Tommy said, smirking as he remembered the time Billy caused himself to fall playing Dance Dance Revolution.

"Not a real dinosaur." Billy rolled his eyes. "What's your costume, Luna?" He asked, glancing over his sister's grey jacket and pink dress.

"I'm a spy," Luna said, pulling on a pair of sunglasses. "Duh." She added, picking up her plate as the three kids moved into the living room.

Quickly the three ten-year-olds noticed their usual seats on the couch were occupied by their uncle, who was fast asleep and snoring loudly.

"Man, he even snores cool." Tommy quietly exclaimed, Pietro on the couch. "I'm gonna wake him up."

"Don't!" Billy snapped, grabbing Tommy's arm.

"You scared?"

"Why would he be scared, Tommy? He's our uncle." Luna asked, tilting her head.

"'Cause it's four o'clock in the afternoon, and Billy's secretly afraid he's a vampire." Tommy teased.

"No, I'm not!" Billy denied.

"Yes, you are!" Tommy smirked.

"Both of you, be quiet!" Luna hissed.

What none of the kids had noticed was that while they were arguing, Pietro had woken up. Pietro watched the three for a second before he flashed in front of his nephews and niece.

"Blood is thicker than water! I show you!" Pietro roared, causing the kids to scream.

Pietro began to chase the still screaming children around the living room before a loud voice interrupted them.

"Oh! Somebody better be bleeding, broken, or on fire." Wanda said as she rushed down the stairs, all dressed for Halloween.

"Whoa, Mama. Are you old Red Riding Hood?" Billy wondered, causing Wanda to frown.

"I'm a Sokovian fortune teller." His mother told him.

"Wow, that is so,"

"Rad!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Lame," Pietro said, causing Tommy to frown.

"Lame." Tommy agreed.

"Well, think it's cool, Mama," Luna said, smiling at the woman.

"Why, thank you, favorite child," Wanda said with a teasing grin to her other children.

"That costume is worse than the ones mom made us the year we got typhus." Pietro grimaced, staring his sister up and down.

"That's not exactly how I remember it." Wanda frowned, recalling a faint memory of herself, her brother, and an old woman with a fish.

"You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma." Pietro guessed.

"Mom has been weird since uncle Pietro got here," Billy announced, once more talking to someone unseen. "I think it's because she hasn't seen him in a long time, and he's what you call 'a man child.'"

"Want to talk about trauma? Someone drank my coffee this morning." Y/N said as she descended the stairs. "I'm looking at you, Pietro."

"What are you dressed as, Mom?" Tommy asked, looking at his mother.

"I'm Artemis," Y/N told him, pulling a fake bow off her caped back. "She's the Greek Goddess of the Hunt."

"Whoa! Sweet costume, bro-ham-in-law!" Pietro cackled as Vision appeared behind Y/N. "Let me guess, traffic light!" He said, causing Vision to sigh. "Half shucked corn! A booger!"

"Yes." Vision sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes!" Pietro exclaimed with a grin before making his way over to the couch.

"Well, thank you two for humoring me," Wanda said, giving her partners an apologetic smile.

"I love Halloween. No-one had to ask me to dress up twice." Y/N shrugged, throwing her bow back onto her back.

"At least you got to choose your costume. I simply had no other clothes in my closet." Vision said before grinning at his wives. "You are incorrigible, darling. I know you have a secret thing for Mexican wrestlers." He told Wanda.

"Mi gusta mucho."

"Ellos son bastante buenos."

"Chili con carne." Vision said, causing his wives to laugh. "What do you say, kiddos? Who's ready for that first hit of high fructose corn syrup?" Vision asked, turning to the kids who were playing a video game with Pietro.

"Yes! Headlock!"

"Get out of here! Get out of here!"

"You never really told us anything about your brother," Y/N said, watching the three with a smile. "He's not what I expected."

"Yes. I had no idea that he'd be so,"

"Go!"

"Great with kids." Vision summarised, throwing his thumb up.

"Yeah, he's just full of surprises." Wanda shook her head.

"Well, I hope the two of you have fun tonight, darlings." Vision said, moving towards the door.

"What? What do you mean? You're all dressed and ready to go." Wanda asked, staring at Vision with wide eyes.

"I'm undercover," Vision told her. "Halloween is a bacchanal for adolescent trouble-makers, and the neighborhood watch is the only thing that stands between the trees and toilet paper." He explained.

"Ah yes, the age-old enemy. Children with toilet paper." Y/N teased her husband with a smirk.

"No. That's not what you're supposed to,"

"What?" Vision cut her off, causing Wanda to cross her arms and sigh.

"Well, you didn't tell me you had plans."

"Vis told me last night, Wand," Y/N announced, causing Wanda to narrow her eyes.

"And you're okay with this?"

"Mama, Mom, and Dad have been, well, not fighting, just different," Billy announced to the unseen person.

"Okay with it? Vis is going out with the neighborhood watch. What's there to be okay about?" Y/N wondered.

"It's the kid's first Halloween. We all have to be there with them." Wanda demanded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's the big dealio?" Pietro whispered as he came to stand with the three. "The big guy has conflict. The kids need a father figure for the night. Don't sweat it, guys. I got the old XY chromosome. Uncle P to the rescue! Huh?" He suggested.

"There you go. Problem solved." Vision agreed, lightly punching Pietro in the shoulder. "You have a spooky time tonight, kids."

"Goodnight, Dad!"

"Bye, Dad!"

"Love you, Dad!"

"Sweethearts, be good." He said (mostly to Wanda) as he kissed both women's cheeks. "I smell crime."

"Oh, hang on, I need to put the pumpkin out," Y/N said before Vision left the house.

She grabbed the jack-o-lantern from beside the door and followed Vision outside, shutting the door behind her.

"You understand your part of the plan?" Vision whispered.

"I'll keep Wanda distracted and keep my eyes open," Y/N whispered to her husband. "Be careful?" She asked.

"Always, darling," Vision promised, quickly pulling Y/N into an embrace before taking his leave.

"Where do you keep your water balloons?" Y/N heard as she re-entered the house.

"What? We don't have water balloons." Wanda said as Y/N locked the front door.

"Not anymore. Wanda won't let me keep them in the house." Y/N teased, coming to stand beside her wife.

"Then where are we gonna put all this shaving cream?" Pietro asked, holding up two cans. Cans Y/N had no idea as to where they'd come from. "It was Luna's idea!" Pietro defended himself.

"I'm Tommy," Tommy said, holding a shopping bag in his hands.

"And don't you forget it!"

"You two don't even have costumes," Wanda said, looking between her brother and son.

Pietro let out a scoff as he held a hand out towards Tommy. When the boy took it, Pietro sped the two out of the house, and when they reappeared, they were in matching costumes.

"Okay, but just remember that this is a respectable family." Wanda sighed. "If I see any funny business, I am going to magic you into a pickled herring." She said, causing Pietro to cringe.

"C'mon Billy, Luna, let's get your pillowcases," Y/N said, causing the kids to jump to their feet. "It's T-minus ten to our Halloween spooktacular!" She grinned.

Back at SWORD headquarters, agents were in a flurry after Wanda's appearance.

"I wanna see a full work-up inside the hour," Hayward demanded of the agents examining the missile that was still glowing with Wanda's power.

"Yes, sir."

"Hayward. Hayward! You cut us off at the knees sending in that missile." Monica snapped, rushing after the director.

"Now we know who we're dealing with." He shrugged.

"There he is! The man who almost got murdered by his own team." Clint clapped, causing Hayward to snap around.

"Why are you still here?" He demanded.

"Because that's my family in there," Clint told the man.

"And he's with us," Darcy said, standing beside Clint with Monica on her other side.

"I see, so if he's the struggling father, which of you is the sassy best friend?"

"There is no time for you to diminish your colleagues when you're about to start a war you can't win." Jimmy admonished, standing on Clint's other side.

"Maximoff was never going to negotiate with us." Hayward waved him off. "We take her out, and this whole nightmare ends."

"We don't know that," Monica told him.

"And we're never going to now." Clint scoffed.

"We have no idea what will happen in there or out here if Wanda dies." Monica reasoned.

"So what? We just surrender to that?" Hayward exclaimed, glaring at the red energy field behind him. "Not happening."

"We can't outgun her, and clearly antagonizing her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, then she has to be our solution!"

"Captain Rambeau, Agent Barton, the two of you have become an impediment to this mission," Hayward told the two, causing Monica to sigh heavily.

"Technically, I was never assigned to anything." Clint shrugged.

"Constantly advocating on behalf of super-power-based individuals. Yes, I know your history with Carol Danvers. You know, you people who left still have the luxury of optimism. You have no idea what it was like what it took to keep the lights." Hayward shook his head.

"Monica might not have been around, but I was," Clint spoke up. "I remember what it took, and I can never forget. Wanda dusted. Y/N dusted. The two came back to a world where nothing was the same, and Vision was dead. Vision who had to die by Wanda's own hand."

"That's not an excuse for what Maximoff's doing. And the snap wasn't an excuse for what you did during those five years either." The director said, causing Clint to flinch.

"Don't use the last five years to be a coward, Tyler." Monica snapped, causing Hayward to direct his attention back to her.

"Maybe it's a good thing you weren't here when your mother died. Because clearly, you don't have the stomach for this job." Hayward said, causing the air to knock right out of Monica's lungs. "Get her off my base. Get them all out." He demanded the agents, who immediately surrounded the four.

"Yes, sir. All right, come on. Let's go." One of the agents said, pulling Monica out of the room, the other three not far behind.

"Hayward is way overstepping his provisional authority," Jimmy complained.

"He was looking for a reason to sideline us," Clint commented from his side.

"He's up to something." Monica agreed as they came to a stop at a van.

"Let's go, everybody in." An agent demanded.

With a second's hesitation, Jimmy punched the agent holding him. Monica and Clint quickly followed Jimmy's lead and attacked the guards holding them. Slamming the men into the truck and the ground, the three made quick work of the agents while Darcy watched in shock.

"Why didn't anyone tell me the plan?" Darcy demanded once all the agents were dispatched.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked Clint and Monica.

"Always am," Clint grunted, rolling his shoulder.

"Yeah, let's move." Monica sighed. Quickly the four found themselves SWORD ponchos and dragged the agents into a storage shed, far out of the way.

"This is it. Game time." Tommy told the same unseen person Billy had spoken to.

"It's not a competition, Tommy." Billy sighed.

"Everything can be a competition, Billy," Luna said with a grin.

"Luna's right. It's even better when you're the winner." Tommy said before running off.

"Tommy!" Billy groaned before running after his older brother, with Luna in tow.

"Unleash hell, demon spawn!" Pietro cheered.

"Someone's got to follow after them," Y/N said, pressing a kiss to her wife's cheek. "God knows how many bones they'd break without someone watching." She added, following after the kids.

When Wanda and Pietro were alone, Wanda gave her brother a smile before taking a step towards him.

"Do you remember when we were at the orphanage after Mom and Dad died? What was the name of the kid who was always trying to steal your boots?" Wanda asked him. "You know, he was the one with the. He had the, he had the skin thing."

"You're testing me," Pietro said, pointing at his younger sister.

"No, I'm not." She immediately denied it.

"Hey, it's cool. I know I look different." Pietro said, gesturing to his hair.

"Why do you look different?" Wanda wondered.

"You tell me." Pietro shrugged. "I mean, if I found Shangri-La, I wouldn't wanna be reminded of the past either." He said, causing Wanda to freeze.

"Next house, Mama!" Tommy said as he and his siblings rushed over to the Maximoff siblings with Y/N right behind.

"Junior entrepreneur, over here!" Pietro grinned. "How about you let Uncle P help you maximize your candy acquisition, huh?"

"That'd be so cool!" Luna grinned.

"Yeah! Kick-ass!" Tommy agreed.

"I feel the need," Pietro stated, holding his hand out to Tommy.

"For speed!" Tommy cheered, taking Pietro and Billy's hand. Billy grabbed onto Luna's hand, and with that, the four were off.

Speeding around the neighborhood for candy.

"Kick-ass," Wanda murmured as Y/N chuckled.

"I certainly didn't teach them that word," Y/N said as they began to walk down the street.

"Sweetheart, you swear more than anyone else I've ever met," Wanda told the woman.

"Lies and blasphemy!" Y/N gasped, causing Wanda to giggle.

"Oh! Hey, Herb!" Wanda said upon spotted their neighbor dressed as Frankenstein.

"Hey, guys!" Herb smiled as the two approached.

"How's patrol going?" Wanda asked politely.

"Any trees meet the dreaded toilet paper yet?" Y/N smirked.

"No, not yet." Herb chuckled. "It's been quiet so far." He said before his com began to chatter. "Hold up, will you? Say again?" He asked his com. "All the candy has disappeared?" He asked, causing the two women to freeze.

Behind the man, Wanda and Y/N could vaguely make out the blue blur of Pietro speeding the kids around and causing hijinks.

"And now all the jack-o-lanterns have been smashed?" Herb asked as the kids let out a loud cheer. "And now everyone's covered in silly string?"

"Whoo!" Pietro cheered loudly.

"Sorry, girls, but I gotta bounce." Herb apologized.

"Well, maybe Vision can help you out," Wanda suggested.

"Vision? He's not on duty."

"Oh, isn't he?" Y/N asked, playing along with Wanda's confusion.

"We just thought,"

"Is there something I can do for you, Wanda?" Herb asked, sensing Wanda's confusion. "Do you want something changed?" He questioned, causing Y/N to frown.

"No, it's fine." Wanda shook her head, grabbing Y/N's hand and squeezing it comfortingly. "Never mind."

"All right. Peace." Herb smiled before walking away.

"That was good, sweetheart." Y/N complimented her wife.

"I'm always good." Wanda shrugged, giving Y/N a smile.

Vision was on the other side of town while his family trick-or-treated.

The further away Vision got away from his home and family, the stranger Vision noticed the town's people were.

He had noticed people robotically repeating their actions with blank expressions.

Vision stared at a woman and her husband for several seconds before he had to tear his gaze away when the woman shed a single tear.

Meanwhile, the group of six had made their way to the town's center, where the committee had set up a festival of sorts.

"This is so lame. I can't believe you're making the kids return all the candy." Pietro groaned as Y/N led the kids away.

"I can't believe what a bad influence you are," Wanda said, turning to Pietro with crossed arms.

"Who beefed in your borscht?" Pietro asked, causing Wanda to tilt her head. "I'm just doing my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the in-laws, stir up trouble with the rugrats and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?" He asked her.

"What happened to your accent?" Wanda questioned, pointing a gloved finger at her brother.

"What happened to yours?" He fired back. "Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all, and the next thing I know, I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me." Pietro admitted as Y/N came back over.

"Alright, candy is returned, the kids are still being sourballs about it, but it's done." She clapped, standing beside her wife.

"Thank goodness for that." Wanda smiled.

"Uncle P, guess what?" Tommy exclaimed as he and his siblings ran over.

"They've got full-size candy bars a few blocks up! Mama, Mom, can we go?" Billy begged before his brother rushed away.

Tommy rushed away in a blur of blue.

"Next stop, Cavity Town!" Tommy cheered, reappearing with three candy bars in hand.

Everyone turned to stare at Tommy in surprise before Pietro let out a cheer.

"Right on, little dude! Chip off the old Maximoff block! You've got super speed!"

"I do?"

"Yeah!" Pietro grinned, holding a hand out to his nephew, who eagerly jumped to high-five him.

"It's okay, baby. You can take it slow, and you can," Wanda started to tell the boy but was cut off when he sped away.

"That's my boy." Y/N grinned as Tommy cheered loudly.

Wanda allowed Tommy to speed around the five for a few minutes before she threw her hand out and pulled the boy to a stop.

"If you're going to break the sound barrier, please take your siblings with you," Wanda begged.

"Really?" Billy asked excitedly.

"Really?" Tommy asked sadly.

"Really, yeah. And please just remember to-"

"Don't go past Ellis Avenue." The twins chorused in unison.

"And?" Y/N wondered.

"Always stick together." They added.

"We know. We know." Tommy said as Billy took his hand.

"Luna, are you coming?" Billy asked his sister, who shook her head.

"I think I want to look at the stalls," Luna told him, glancing behind her at the stalls that were lined up.

"Oh, good idea. I'll come with you." Y/N said, taking her daughter's hand.

"Hey! be careful!" Wanda called as her family all went their separate ways.

Leaving her with Pietro.

Outside the Hex, Monica, Clint, Jimmy, and Darcy were sneaking their way to an empty tent.

"I'm just trying to do my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the in-laws,"

"Who is that?" Monica asked, staring at the man on the screen.

"Wanda's brother came to town," Jimmy told the woman.

"That's not the punk I remember," Clint said, staring at the screen in confusion.

"Yeah, he's got a new face." Darcy scoffed.

"Over here." Jimmy quietly called. Monica and Darcy quickly rushed over to Jimmy while Clint continued to stare at the screen.

"What happened to your accent?"

"What happened to yours?"

"We shouldn't stick around here much longer." Clint coughed, pulling his eyes away once his daughter appeared on the screen.

"Give me two seconds. I just need to hack into the secure network on the base." Darcy told everyone as she typed away frantically at the computer. "Donezo! Now, should be able to access the data on Hayward's devices." She said, connecting the USB to her laptop. "Oh, that's interesting. Guys, Hayward figured out a way to look into the boundary."

"And he didn't share with the group." Monica scoffed.

"Is this Wanda, right here?" Jimmy asked, pointing to a glowing dot on Darcy's screen.

"No, the program is tracking the decay signature of vibranium," Darcy told him.

"Vision."

"Why is Hayward tracking Vision?" Clint asked.

"I don't know. This is all I can access so far." Darcy told him.

"These other dots, those are Westview residents?" Jimmy wondered.

"The ones in Vision's immediate vicinity, yeah." Darcy nodded.

"So Hayward must have an accurate headcount by now." Jimmy summarised.

"Hayward's got to have some sense of their well-being. Where would that be?" Clint asked, playing around with the screen.

"Not sure."

"These people near the edge of town, they're bearly moving. Are they even alive?" Jimmy asked, looking over the dulled blue dots.

But Darcy didn't have an answer for that. In fact, she didn't have time to give him one before the laptop dinged, and the map began to move.

This was stranger than strange. Vision noted as he got closer towards the edge of town.

It seemed the closer he got to the edge of town, the less Wanda cared about the people.

The people were not moving about robotically anymore. They were simply still.

There was a blanket of silence covering the street as Vision walked past the countless people on the street.

No-one made even the faintest of sounds, not even when he spoke to them.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are those your children? Are you waiting for something?" Vision asked, but when no-one responded, he forced himself to move on.

Vision made his way to the end of the street before he decided walking was fruitless.

He dropped his disguise before he took to the skies.

He could hear the sounds of children laughing, people wishing each happy Halloween's and other pleasantries before noticed a car stopped at a stop sign.

Vision flew towards the car and lightly landed before the stopped vehicle.

There, in the driver's seat, Vision found Agnes to be behind the wheel.

"Agnes?" He asked aloud. "What are you doing here?"

"Town Square Scare," Agnes said blankly. "Where is it?"

"Oh, well, the Town Square, I expect." Vision joked, causing Agnes to laugh emotionlessly.

"Took a wrong turn," Agnes admitted, still staring out the front window. "Got lost." She shrugged as her eyes welled with tears.

"In the town, you grew up in?" Vision wondered, staring at his neighbor in confusion.

Agnes didn't respond, causing Vision's worry to grow so that he reached a hand out to her temple.

When Vision broke the wall in her mind, Agnes jolted violently and let out a loud gasp.

"It's all right." Vision soothed.

"You!" Agnes gasped, staring at her neighbor in shock. "You're one of the Avengers. You're Vision. Are you here to help us?" She asked with wide eyes.

"I am Vision, and I do want to help." Vision nodded, gently placing his hand on hers. "But what's an Avenger?" He wondered, causing Agnes to gasp.

"What? Why don't you know?" She demanded, snatching her hand away. "Am I dead?" Agnes asked, pressing her hands to her chest.

"No. No." Vision promised. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you are."

"'Cause I'm what?"

"Dead," Agnes said, causing Vision to freeze. "Dead. Dead! Dead!" She yelled.

"Agnes, it is my intention to reach those outside of Westview and make sense of our situation." Vision explained, gesturing towards the town's end.

"How? No-one leaves." Agnes shook her head. "Wanda won't even let us think about it." She laughed. "All is lost," Agnes added as her laughter began to grow wilder.

"Agnes. Agnes, please calm down." Vision asked but was drowned out by the woman's loud cackling. "Agnes! Please."

Vision knew Agnes was too far gone to hear this conversation, so with a sigh, he pressed his hand to her temple once more.

Agnes snapped upright in her seat as her laughter died in her throat.

"I will fix this, Agnes. I promise."

"Okey-dokey, neighbor." Agnes chirped, smiling widely, as she did a U-turn. "Happy Halloweenie!" She cheered, driving away.

Leaving Vision to stare into the distance, just past Ellis Avenue.

"That's it. My way back into the Hex will be here in an hour. Just got to meet my guy over the ridge. Let's roll." Monica told the group.

"You can't do that," Darcy spoke up.

"Sure we can." Jimmy shrugged. "I'm a wiz at hot-wiring cars."

"No. You can't go back into the Hex." Darcy told Monica.

"Worst case scenario, Wanda removes my free will and puts me in ultra-low-rise jeans." Monica shrugged.

"Hayward has your blood work," Darcy announced. "You've gone through the boundary twice already, Monica. The energy inside has re-written your cells on a molecular level twice. It's changing you."

"Seen enough lab results to last me a lifetime." Monica shrugged. "I've seen cells metastasizing, cells in remission. I know what Wanda's feeling, and I won't stop until I help her."

"Okay."

"But I'm staying here," Darcy told the group.

"You can't stay here. It's not safe." Jimmy told her.

"Why would you want to stay here?" Clint asked.

"Darcy, what are you talkin' about?"

"I haven't made it through Hayward's last firewall. There's something big here, something that can help us. I know it." Darcy said.

"I'll stay," Clint announced. "Just in case you need me."

"Fine." Monica sighed. "I'll drop you the location. You meet us out there as soon as you can." She told the two before she and Jimmy left the tent.

Jimmy and Monica found an abandoned truck which they quickly stole before driving away from the SWORD base.

Leaving Darcy and Clint alone.

"Seems the whole town's out tonight, huh, Luna?" Y/N wondered as she and her daughter strolled through the Town Square.

"There's a lot of people." Luna nodded, staring at the townsfolk curiously.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Y/N asked, kneeling in front of the blonde girl. "Are you not feeling well?" She pushed, pressing her hand to Luna's forehead.

"No, I feel fine, Mom," Luna promised, pulling her mother's hand away.

"What's wrong then? You've been acting off all night." Y/N commented, rising to a stand and pulling Luna over to a hay bale to sit.

"I can see things, Mom," Luna admitted, playing with her thumbs.

"Things like what, sweetheart?"

"Emotions, I think," Luna told Y/N. "There are these colors all around everyone. I can see 'em change, Mom."

"That's okay, sweetheart. We can help you find out more about your powers."

"But, Mom, there's something wrong with everyone's colors," Luna said.

"What's wrong with their colors?

"They're all blue, all sad," Luna said, staring at the people who passed her. "And when they pass Mama, they're scared."

"I know, sweetheart." Y/N sighed, pulling her daughter into her side. "But me and your Dad are trying to fix this. We're gonna fix this." She promised the girl.

"Holy shmacaroni," Pietro commented, looking around the Town Square as Wanda laughed. "Wow!"

"Isn't it great?" Wanda asked with a grin.

"Damn it, if Westview, New Jersey isn't charming as hell." Pietro complimented, watching the people mill about.

"Now, I know that you think that I've gone full soccer mom,"

"You have." Pietro cut in.

"But it really is nice, right?" Wanda asked as the two sat down.

"Yeah." Pietro nodded before letting out a sigh. "I think Mom and Dad would have loved it."

"Yeah. I think Mom and Dad would have."

"Where were you hiding these kids up till now?" Pietro asked after a gaggle of children ran past them.

"What?" Wanda asked, snapping her head to face him.

"I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds." Pietro theorized. "No need to traumatize beyond the occasional holiday episode cameo, right?" He joked.

"No."

"You were always the empathetic twin," Pietro told her.

"I don't. I didn't."

"Don't get me wrong, you've handled the ethical considerations of this scenario as best you could." Pietro complimented. "Families and couples stay together, most personalities aren't far off from what's underneath, people got better jobs, better haircuts, for sure."

"You don't think it's wrong?" Wanda stuttered.

"What, are you kidding? I'm impressed." Pietro told her. "Seriously. It's a big leap from giving people nightmares and shooting red wiggly-woos out of your hands. How'd you even do all this?" Pietro asked, causing Wanda to fall into silence. "Hey, I'm not some stranger, and I'm not your husband or your wife. You can talk to me."

"I don't know how I did it," Wanda admitted with a sigh, looking down. "I, I only remember feeling scared. Empty." She sniffed. When Wanda finally looked up, she let out a gasp when she saw Pietro grey and full of holes.

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and when she opened them, she out out a sigh. For Pietro was no longer grey and was hole-free.

"Are you okay?" Pietro wondered, staring at his sister in worry.

"I'm fine." Wanda smiled, waving him off.

"Sure you are."

"Hayward, you sneaky bastard," Darcy said as she continued to snoop through the director's files.

"You got that right." Clint scoffed, watching over the doctor's shoulder.

Darcy pulled up a new screen that showed Vision's blinking dot moving closer to the border.

"What's he doing?" Clint asked, staring at Vision's dot in confusion.

"I don't know, but we're going to find out," Darcy said, jumping up from her chair.

On the other side of the Hex, Vision had reached the edge of the town.

The closer he got to the town's border, the larger the foreboding feeling in his stomach grew.

But the closer he got, the clearer the energy field became.

Blocked from the outside world. Vision mused as he stood a nose length's away.

Vision pressed his hand onto the field, and it was immediately sucked into the energy.

Vision pushed his way through the energy field to see swarms of people, cars, and helicopters surrounding him.

But Vision could not spare them another thought as the more he tried to pull his body out of the energy field, the more pain he found himself to be in.

"He really does want out, doesn't he?" A man asked as Vision let out a loud yell.

SWORD watched as, before their eyes, Vision began to disintegrate.

"Oh no." Darcy gasped and began to rush forward with Clint right behind her. "Why aren't you helping him?" Darcy screamed, causing all the agents to turn and face the two. "He's coming apart!" She yelled when an agent grabbed her and pushed her away.

"Get your hands off her!" Clint exclaimed when he, too, was restrained.

Billy was alone when his head began to pound.

Billy was alone when he began to have images of his father in pain.

Billy was alone when he began to hear what was happening at the town's edge.

Billy could sense his brother speeding closer, and he held a hand out to stop him.

"Whoa, Billy!" Tommy cheered.

"Shh!" Billy hissed.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asked, watching his brother in concern.

Billy ignored his brother as the screaming in his head grew louder.

"Mama!"

Billy and Tommy rushed into the Town Square to find both mothers, their sister, and their uncle sitting on hay bales.

"Mama! Mom! Mama!"

"What? What is it, Billy?" Wanda asked as she jumped to her feet.

"I hear Dad in my head. He's in trouble." Billy panted.

"What? Where is he?" Y/N asked, rushing to her wife's side.

"Let me go!" Darcy snapped as she was handcuffed to a car. "What are you doing?" She yelled when she saw Clint be smacked across the face with the butt of a gun.

"Help!" Vision yelled, not caring that he was falling apart. "The people need help!" He exclaimed before he fell to the ground.

"I don't understand. What's happening to me?" Billy demanded.

"Where is he? Where's your Dad?" Wanda asked, staring at Billy with urgent eyes.

"Hey, don't sweat it, sis. It's not like your dead husband can die twice." Pietro joked.

"Excuse me?" Y/N asked, staring at Pietro with wide eyes. Before she could further question her brother-in-law, Wanda shot him with a blast of magic and sent him flying through the air. "Wanda!" Y/N exclaimed as the kids stared at their mother in shock.

"Billy, I need you to focus," Wanda demanded, ignoring her wife. Billy nodded at his mother and closed his eyes tightly.

"I can't tell. I see these soldiers." Billy said as the images flooded his mind. "They think he's dying!"

"Wanda, don't," Y/N said as Wanda's hands glowed red. But she couldn't say another word as time froze.

The last thing she saw was Wanda's eyes glowing red.

"Jimmy, do you see that? It's magic." Monica said as she and Jimmy drove away from Westview.

"It's moving!" Jimmy gasped. "Go, Monica! Go!" He exclaimed, causing the woman to press harder on the pedal.

"Go, go, go!" Hayward demanded, running away from the Hex. "Move, move, move!"

The agents began to scatter in a panic as the red energy drew closer to them.

"Are you serious right now?" Darcy growled as she was left alone, handcuffed to the car. "Clint, wake up!" Darcy exclaimed as the Hex swallowed everything around it. "Oh, fudge." Darcy sighed as she was hit.

The Hex swallowed the entirety of the SWORD base. Anything it touched changed to fit Wanda's script.

"Can anyone read me?" Hayward asked as he and three others sped away from Westview. "Can anyone hear my voice?" He demanded once more.

But no-one responded.

They were a part of Westview now.

@x-uglyprincess-x @imthedoctorlove @loveinnoya @unknownalien3388 @bindythedemon @summersimmerus @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @natasharomanoffismywife @mcsteamy4ever @monxpeet @amywinehouseisgod-blog @milleniumloki @buckybarnesplumwhore @kennedywxlsh @drpepperobsessed @madamevirgo @superbsccissorsdeanexpert @itty-bitty-witch @essenceproxima @severusminerva @okkulta @mrscasnovak @niki-is-a-thing @sunshinepower17 @pinkninja200 @iflostreturntoflynnrider @simp4mcuwomen @blackfarrahfawcett @angelicl-y @bromieeeomieee @persie33 @ambria @1awesomemeash @montygator17 @runaway-mom-friend @gengen64 @tiny-freak @abitofeverythinggg

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x vision #vision x reader #wandavision #scarlet witch x reader

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tsuraiwrites · 3 years

Note

“We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair…” for Dorian and anyone else you fancy?

thank you so much for the prompt! for @dadrunkwriting

trying my hand at Anders/Dorian with inquisitor!Anders because this group put the idea in my head and it lodged there.

Fic: At Grey Dawn

When Anders wakes, it’s to the ever-present noise that catches like serrated knives behind his forehead. Justice stirs under his skin, a rumble of discontent that he is only just able to make out over the Calling. Those shrieking notes scratch at the back of his brain relentlessly until Justice presses it down again, smothering most of the tumult down to a dull roar – though one he can never be entirely rid of. Anders sighs lowly, opening his eyes to the tent ceiling as the first grey light of dawn starts seeping through the heavy cloth. His entire body aches, his mana only just recovered enough to finish healing himself last night. His left hand, as always, burns with the tug of the Mark.

Anders shudders, finds his eyes wandering in an effort to distract himself from the pull of the raw Fade in his own hand, and invariably they land on his companion.

Truth be told, Anders hadn’t relished the idea of sharing a tent with anyone. With the mages from Redcliffe trailing along behind them, he’d done his best to see everyone properly outfitted with at least the basics, including any extra tents the Inquisition scouts brought along.

That unfortunately left few to go around. When presented with the choice between sharing with the Seeker who still has to curb her homicidal impulses around him, a Qunari spy, or Varric (who snores like a bellows at the best of times and still can’t always look him in the eye), Dorian Pavus isn’t the worst person to be crammed in with. His only other option had been to sleep out in the open as Solas and some of the scouts had chosen; Anders is used to roughing it but he isn’t a masochist. He likes a nice, warm – if cramped – tent and not waking up covered with dew.

That, and he likes to think he’s built up a rapport with the Tevinter mage over the last days; enough to trust the man not to slit his throat in the night. That horrendous jaunt to the future at least ended with a powerful ally on the Inquisition’s side, and that’s all Anders can really bring himself to say on the matter.

He’s already had to recount those nightmarish events for Pentaghast and the others; no doubt he will have to repeat himself to Josephine, the Nightengale, and Rutherford when they return to Haven.

Pavus will help, certainly. He had filled in some of the blanks for Anders’ companions when Anders couldn’t find the words to explain the horror of their time travel – let alone the technicalities.

One day, Anders will ask him to describe how time magic works… the theory must be complex.

When the man is awake, of course.

The Tevinter is lying on his side with his bedroll tucked tight around him, covering everything but his head, his face cushioned against his pack. As Anders watches, Pavus snuffles, turning his face into his makeshift pillow and rather neatly folding the left side of his mustache in half against his cheek. Anders’ lips twitch up against his will.

Between the disarray of his mustache and the smears of kohl around his eyes, Pavus looks far… softer. Less the haughty Tevinter nobility, and less hunted, too.

Anders recognizes the look of a runaway when he sees one. He doesn’t know Pavus’ story yet, but Anders finds himself wondering, taking in his ruffled appearance, if the man will deign to tell him. Maker knows he could use a few more people to talk to, to take his mind off this forsaken mess if only for a minute.

Anders only realizes he’s been staring when the Mark tugs, hard enough that his hand spasms. He doesn’t hiss but he does shut his eyes, right hand wrapping around his wrist as if he can stave off the pain that way. Touching the Mark itself or trying to heal it only makes the tugging worse, so all he can do is clutch at himself and wait for it to subside.

Justice rumbles again, angry at his inability to do more to help.

It’s fine, he assures the spirit. We’ve both weathered worse.

“Does it hurt?”

Anders nearly jumps out of his bedroll, unable to suppress the surprised noise he lets out as he turns to meet Pavus’ eyes. The smears of kohl around them only add to his bleary look, and Anders desperately stomps down on the part of him that starts going on again about the softening of Pavus’ face by the watery light.

“What?” he asks, the question flying over his head entirely.

“Your hand, does it pain you?” Pavus’ voice is quiet in deference to the early hour and the small space between them, but the words are filled with a concern not entirely in line with what Anders has observed of Pavus so far.

That makes Anders hesitate. Pavus has shown himself to be brash and confident – rightly so, considering his command of time magic and necromancy. The man hasn’t lied to him yet, and he’s also taken up firmly against whoever the “Elder One” is, to the tune of saving Anders’ life. Surely, Anders can afford to let slip a little of his own doubt, if Dorian is willing to hear him out.

“It hasn’t stopped hurting since the Breach opened,” he admits, watching the Tevinter’s eyes widen and flicker down to Anders’ hand. Pavus’ brow wrinkles, and Anders tears his gaze away. “I’m not sure even closing it will make it stop, at this point.” He flexes his fingers and Mark flares, crackling with Fade energy. It also sends a spasm of whire-hot fire through his palm that makes his whole hand convulse.

Dorian hisses between his teeth, and Anders isn’t sure if it’s in sympathy or censure when he asks:

“Should you be doing that? It looks… painful.”

Anders snorts as the spasm subsides, letting the Mark go as dormant as it ever gets.

“True. What would my healer say? Oh, wait...” He raises his eyebrows.

Pavus chuckles, himself already the beneficiary of Anders’ magic after one of the Venatori in the future had gotten a lucky strike.

“Does your spirit healing not work on it?” he continues, evidently unable to hold back the curiosity any longer.

“Not really. As far as Solas and I can figure, it’s a direct link to the Fade. It just sucks up and reflects any magic cast directly on it.” He sighs. “It’s why Josephine and the Nightengale wanted to recruit the mages in the first place.” Pavus’ eyebrow quirks and he explains. “Ah, they’re… advisors? Part of a council, I guess, if we include me.” And he’s not looking forward to the absolute fucking fit Rutherford is going to throw when he hears what happened; how Anders gave the mages a place in the Inquisition as allies.

As if Anders would ever do anything else.

“Anyway, we think with the boost in power it should be able to close the Breach.”

“I see. You have no way of testing this beforehand, I assume?”

“No. But we saw what’s at stake if it doesn’t work.”

They share a look that goes on for moments longer than Anders really means it to.

Pavus breaks their stare, and Anders isn’t sure if he imagines the way that he swallows before sitting up with a stretch.

“Aren’t we both delightful this morning? Shall we change the topic to something less heavy. What’s for breakfast, perhaps?” He sits up as much as he can in the tent’s cramped confines, dragging his pack around to rifle through it.

“Pavus,” Anders says before he can think better of it, and the man’s head whips back around.

“Call me Dorian, if you please. ‘Pavus’ is what I hear right before one of my old Circle peers or instructors descends on me,” he says, a wry smile blooming across his lips, and Anders catches himself staring again.

“Dorian, then. I just wanted to say thank you – for everything that happened in Redcliffe. I wouldn’t have made it out without you and I don’t think I’ve said it, yet.”

Dorian blinks, but the edges of his smile become less sharp, a tension disappearing that Anders notices only in its sudden release.

“You’re very welcome.”

#fic #dragon age #anders/dorian pavus #dragon age drunk writing circle #inquisitor!anders #finally I finished a thing asdhaihdsfk

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lizzy-williams · 4 years

Text

𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

((Howdy there, this is my first time writing on here, so I hope you enjoy!))

Masterlist

Summary: You accept a job as an assistant to the now world-famous Colson Baker, who shattered the charts with his album Tickets To My Downfall, and an Oscar winner for his success in the award-winning film titled Midnight in the Switchgrass, which also starred his ex, Megan Fox. But once you are accepted for the job, you seem to get closer than anticipated with Mr. Baker.

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑫 graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, you had never expected to be getting a job like this. Sure, you had heard about your employer. He had won an Oscar for christ’s sake. Not to mention a Grammy-winning album. You had to say that personally, you were a fan, which was one of the main reasons you interviewed for the job. But never in a million years did you think you would land it.

When you were employed, you were expected to start right after you had applied, which you obliged, even though his house was a thirty-minute drive away.

So now, there you were, sitting in your car, taking deep breaths. You had arrived several minutes early. You had pulled into the driveway, breathing in and out as you prepared yourself. You were excited but scared out of your mind.

“Come on, AJ, you got this, just go in there and try to not be a nuisance,” you spoke to yourself. With a deep breath, you exited the vehicle brushing yourself up, walking up the long, intimidating stairs.

You raised your hand up, taking hold of the lion-shaped knocker and knocked three times, the echos being heard even from the outside. The door was large and almost looming over you with its height. You took the waiting time to look around at the garden out front, trimmed to perfection and colorful pink roses littering the gravel. It was nothing less than stunning.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked, making you jump, your eyes shifting around.

You then realized the voice was a Ring doorbell system, and you mentally slapped yourself for not just using that. You leaned down slightly, trying to meet the camera’s eye, giving a warm smile.

“Um, I’m Adeline Williams, I’m the new assistant for Mr. Baker, I was instructed to start today,”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

The voice was deeper then what you would think Mr. Baker would sound like, having seen plenty of interviews. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall African-American male. He had to be at least six feet tall.

“What’s up, I’m Slim,” He held his hand out for a handshake, which you quickly took.

“Yeah, I’m Adeline, but you can just call me AJ,” you responded, “Where is Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. His manager made you a binder for your duties and other stuff. It’s good to meet you though, just feel free to come in and grab your stuff in the kitchen.” He stated, stepping aside and motioning for you to enter.

You walked in, taking in the entryway. The walls were littered with gold record plaques for collabs he had done with other artists. Paintings of him were scattered around, some furniture almost automatically spotted that looked more expensive than your entire apartment. The ceiling was high-up, light fixtures illuminating the space, giving off a warm feel to the area.

You slipped off your flats, Slim already slipping away into the maze of the house, leaving you to find the kitchen by yourself. Your sock-clad feet patted across the hard floor, your eyes wandering around, trying to find the kitchen in the stupidly large house.

You walked down a hallway, reaching another large room, but now the walls were covered in posters and guitars, a drum set in the corner, recording systems, speakers, and even a Monster Energy Drink sponsored mini fridge which was fully stocked, drawings and art above it, the window next to it letting a fair amount of light in, the curtains drawn. You walked over to the drum set, running your hand on one of the symbols, which had sadly had a light coat of dust on it. Come to think of it, so did most of the other instruments.

“You could play them if you want,” another voice said behind you, making you jump and whip around, your eyes instantly meeting the eyes of your employer.

He was tall, six foot four according to Google, his exposed chest littered with so many tattoos, you couldn’t possibly count them all. His bleach-blond hair was long and shaggy on top of his head, meaning he had probably just woken up, grey sweatpants covering his bottom half, the hem of his boxers peeking over the waistband of the grey material, making you blush and meet his eyes again.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t play,” you then mentally slapped yourself once again, “Sorry, what am I saying. I’m Adeline - Um, Williams, I’m here as your new assistant.”

He looked you up and down, taking in you attire, a slight sneer appearing on his face, only for a second. You guessed by his reaction that you were over-dressed.

“You look like a kindergarten teacher.” he laughed.

“Uhm, noted, do you... want me to take off my sweater or something?” you asked.

He scoffed, biting his lip and turning away, holding back from saying something that you were guessing would piss you off.

You sighed, slipping off your sweater and messing with your hands, “Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Your friend, Slim told me that your manager had had something in there for me,”

“Yeah, follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, your own small feet scuttering across the floor, following him.

And of course, the kitchen was as stunning at the rest of the house, the size, making it look like a gourmet kitchen. And there on one of the granite countertops was a .5 inch pale white binder. Colson walked over to his coffee machine, starting it up and watching you walk over, opening it up.

It listed normal duties like setting up venues for tours, making appointments with the production company, merchandise shipment, and payment, normal duties for Colson himself, (Making iced coffee, booking flights, rides for Casie, his daughter, for school, etc.), and traveling with him to the recording studio for sessions, along with renting time for the studio itself.

“So, what do ya think. The list gonna scare you off?” he asked, a sly smile on his face.

“Well, seems easy enough. It just seems like a lot of booking things.” you smiled, “But it shouldn’t be a problem at all, Mr. Baker.”

He grimaced, “Yikes, just call me Colson. You make me sound like an old man. And if I’m going to be seeing you every day, we kinda need to be on a first-name basis.” he said, opening one of the hundreds of cabinets on the wall, pulling out a mug, “What’s your name again?”

“Adeline. But you can just call me AJ.” you looked back down at the papers, turning to a page to all the numbers needed for your position.

“What’s the J?”

“Huh?” you asked, not looking away from the page.

“Well, in AJ I already know what the A is, so what’s the J?” He smirked, pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker, pressing start.

“Oh, um, Jane.” you shrugged off.

“Adeline Jane Williams,” he repeated to himself out loud.

Your heart unintentionally fluttered. Never in a million years did you think that Colson Baker, Machine Gun Kelly, would ever say your full name.

The day went by smoothly, your brain soon catching onto the rhythm of things, you and Colson making small talk as you typed away, sending emails to the publishing companies, his agent, manager, and PR team. Colson would occasionally text you to make him a drink, which you did, always getting right back to work afterward. People came in and out, paying you no mind. The only one you honestly recognized was Rook, his drummer, who only came in to grab a beer from the fridge. Soon enough, the time reached 5 o’clock.

“So, what do you wanna eat?” he suddenly asked, walking into the kitchen area, leaning over the counter you were working at.

The sound of the TV played as you heard the laughter of a group of people in the other room.

“Oh, I honestly have no preference,” you answered honestly, looking up from your Chromebook.

“You sure? Me and the guys were gonna Postmate some stuff, but they can’t decide either.”

“Ummm, I heard there’s a really good restaurant downtown called Beau Jo's. Hear they have a mean menu of Cajun food.” you perked up,

“Alright, Beau Jo’s it is.” He responded, picking up his phone and walking away.

Even though you two had small talk, you still felt like he was so cold to you. Like he didn’t like you, or he didn’t trust you. But you really needed this job. After you finished with your work, you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

There, you were greeted with glancing eyes of 20 or more people, who were scattered throughout the space.

A man walked up to you, looking eccentric as ever. You only knew him because you knew he dated Bella Thorne, but you would never tell him that.

“Heyyyy, you must be the new assistant. Welcome to the best years of your life!” he greeted, slinging an arm around your shoulders, a cola in his other hand. The smell of expensive cologne.

“Modern Sunshine, I presume?” I asked in a snobby British accent, making him laugh.

“Yo Kells! I like this chick!” he called out to Colson, who was across the room talking to some blond broad in short shorts and a crop top.

“Why don’t you come meet the rest of the guys.”

Well, you knew it was coming. It was the end of the night and everyone had gone home, and it was your job to order Ubers for everyone who wasn’t fit to drive. (Which was close to half the people there).

You gathered up your things, sighing as you grabbed your kindergarten teacher sweater, packing it in your bag along with your computer and everything else. Finally, you tucked the binder into the back pocket.

“You heading out?” Colson asked from behind you, his hand on your shoulder.

Your arms formed goosebumps as you looked back smiling, “Yeah, I think it’s that time.”

“Cool. Well, have a good night.” he said while you slipped on your flats, “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

You turned your head to look into his eyes.

“Tomorrow wear something more... spicy,”

#machine gun kelly #mgk #mgk smut #mgk imagine #tickets to my downfall #hotel diablo #megan fox #rookxx #slimxx #colson #colson baker #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #love #romance #imagine #fanfiction #alpha omega #lace up

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wardenari · 4 years

Note

"Come and find me." for Ari?

OK, Maker this got away from me and turned into something super long. Sorry about that. Hope you like it:

"Come and find me. -A"

That's all the note from Ari said. Alistair had found it on his door when he awoke this morning. He'd been in a funk since the disastorous reunion with Goldanna the night before. He hadn't even joined the others for cards, preferring instead to hole up in his room and lick his wounds.

Alistair ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He supposed she was going to try to get him to talk, but he really didn't want to talk. She just couldn't understand, he didn't even fully understand. Fergus may be missing, likely dead, but she at least had happy memories of her brother. They'd cared for each other and loved each other. Goldanna, she saw him as the reason for his misery. Just one more person to blame him for being born, something he'd had no control over. Something sometimes he'd wished hadn't happened.

Still, he knew if he didn't look for her, she'd come looking for him, likely with her temper for him ignoring her request. Since she'd only signed it "A", Alistair was unsure if it was a formal request as the lead Warden, or just a friendly ask as his best friend. When it came to her temper, always better to err on the side of caution.

He headed downstairs to the Gnawed Noble's main room. Looking around the only member from his party he found was Zevran. Alistair tensed a bit. It wasn't exactly that he didn't like Zevran. He just didn't like him with Ari. He knew men like Zevran, and worried that he was a heartache waiting to happen for Arianna. She'd already been through so much, that he couldn't help but want to protect her from more pain if he could. Alistair just didn't see anyway things didn't end in hurt between those two, intentional or not.

"Zev," Alistair nodded to the elf.

"Ah, Alistair," Zevran looked up from the book he read, no doubt something dirty. "Did you sleep well, my friend?"

Alistair shrugged, thankful at least that he wasn't bringing up Goldanna. Zevran had been there for that embarrassment. "Only mildly. Any chance you know where Ari is? She asked me to find her."

Zevran gave him a knowing grin. "I do not, but my lovely vixen did order me to present you with this should you ask."

He handed Alistair a folded piece of paper and a small bag.

"I do so love when she get's bossy," Zevran chuckled as Alistair blushed. He did not need those ideas in his head.

"Yeah, uh thanks," Alistair shuffled away. He opened the sack first, in it was a sweet roll. He sniffed it, cinnoman, his favorite. Alistair bit into the roll, feeling slightly, only slightly, lighter as the sweetness of the roll delighted his tastebuds. He opened the note.

"Did you really think I'd make it that easy for you? Come look for me someplace 'Wonder'ful - A"

Ok, so she it was 'friend' Ari sending him on this quest. That at least took some pressure off. Alistair tried to figure out where she could be. He looked on the back of the note, nothing there. The bag was empty. He read it again, surely there was a clue. He walked as he tried to figure out just what she meant. When he came upon the "Wonders of Thedas" shop he figured the clue out.

The Tranquil behind the front desk watched Alistair as he entered the store. Alistair searched around for the familiar bushy red hair but didn't see his fellow Warden anywhere. He did, however, see Morrigan. Ugh.

"Morrigan," he nodded as he approached the witch.

"I do not see why you two think we should stop to play games when there is work to be done," Morrigan sighed as only she could and handed him a book and another note. "Be gone. Templars scare away the other mages."

Alistair was all too happy to get away from her. He exited and looked at the book. "Illustrated History of the Grey Wardens". Alistair smiled, but only a little. He put the book in his pack, finding he was feeling eager for when he had time to look through it. He opened the note.

"Sorry. I hope she wasn't too awful to you. I'm still 'Wading' around for you. -A"

Alistair rolled his eyes. Her puns were awful. At least this time he knew where to look, and headed off to Wade's Emporium. It was impossible to not notice Sten when he entered. The Qunari seemed to take up half the room as he looked over the weapons on display. The shopkeep looked more then a little uneasy at the giant in his store.

"Sten," Alistair hoped using his name might set the shopkeep at ease, upon seeing that he was friendly.

"Warden Alistair," Sten nodded. "I am considering a weapon, until we find mine."

Alistair looked over the swords and picked up a rather large one, one that even he struggled to hold up. "Try this," he grunted.

"You are Alistair," the shopkeep called.

"Er, yes," Alistair answered hesetently, well aware that they were still wanted posters around Thedas of them..

"I am Herrer," the man introduced himself. "Something was left here for you." He handed Alistair a rune and another note.

"What is the rune?" Alistair looked at the odd symbol on it.

"It is not one of ours, but it appears to be Master Cleansing if I'm not mistaken," Herrer answered.

"Uh, thanks," Alistiar waved goodbye to Sten and attached the rune to his sword. It lit up for a moment, embuing the weapon with extra skills against Darkspawn. That must have set her back a pretty silver, he thought as he placed the sword back in it's sheath.

"Look for Try to find Look I can't think of anything clever, just go to the Pearl. - A"

Alistair chuckled. Then blushed as he realized she meant for him to enter a brothel. Alone. Maker.

He entered the, well he was just going to pretend it was a regular tavern. There just happened to be a lot of barely dressed, good looking people in this particular tavern. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Nope.

He looked around and spotted red hair. Trying not to look around because... Oh, that was definitely a breast... he knew he was blushing. He was going to kill her. He arrived at the table, and sighed with disappointment to find that it was Leliana and not Ari whose hair he had spotted. She was playing cards with a few others.

Leliana handed him a key without looking up. "Third door on the left, through there."

Andraste's ass, please tell me she didn't get me a whore. Alistair had never felt like running as much as he did at that moment. He walked in the direction he'd been told, his hands shaking. I'll just tell the nice woman thank you so much but no. I'm sure that's ok, she'll be paid anyway, right? He really didn't want this to be how his first time went.

He opened the door, ready to turn tail and run when he stopped in shock. What was before him was definitely not what he had expected. Ari sat at a table, reading something. On the table was a large plate filled with nearly every type of cheese imaginable. A carafe of wine beside it, and she took a sip from her glass.

"Ali!" she beamed up at him. "Come on in."

Alistair blinked a few times and then nodded, closing the door behind him as he took his chair. "Ari?"

"I wasn't sure which kind was your favorite so I panicked and got them all," she indicated the plate.

"I uh...Any cheese is fine really," he picked out a piece of Nevarran blu.

"So," he spoke around a bite, "what was with the having me running around town? Why not just bring the cheese to the tavern?"

Ari chuckled and shook her head, "Because that would have defeated the point."

"The point?" he thought back, but couldn't figure out what she meant.

"Since you got the note this morning, did you even once think about that bi... the unpleasantness from yesterday?" Ari raised an eyebrow.

Alistair's face broke into a wide grin as he realized she was right. "No. No I didn't."

"Well there you go. And now there's cheese and wine and we don't have to share it with anyone else," Ari laughed.

Alistair grinned and helped himself to the treats. He really was amazed at how something as awful as the Blight could bring him something as wonderful as a friend like Arianna Cousland.

#Love and Darkspawn #Zevran Arainai #midnightprelude

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shannaraisles · 5 years

Text

Midwinter Roses

A commission fic for @lechatrouge673, who asked me to write something that made me happy. :)

[Read on AO3]

***

Wintermarch, 9:43 Dragon

Swords clashed, sending a shudder up along Alistair's arm that almost rattled his teeth. Too tense, he told himself, pushing away to take better stock of his opponent.

He absently rolled the shoulder that had taken the impact, trying to convince his taut muscles to ease themselves, willing his body into a more natural fighting stance. Across from him, he could see Fergus grinning at his retreat, rolling his eyes at the other man's obvious enjoyment of the king's distraction.

"Too much already, your majesty?" the teyrn teased him, laughter clear in his tone. "We've only been at this an hour."

Alistair's eyes narrowed, bringing his sword and shield to bear as he charged his friend across the training ground. He bent his shoulder into the barge, satisfied by the way the press of shield against shield forced Fergus to give ground a few steps before the other man could bring his own strength to bear against the driving force pushing against him. Unfortunately, he was too focused on that push, missing the way the teyrn's feet shifted until he felt the hook of one foot behind his ankle.

Pulled off-balance, he staggered, cursing, and tripped over the lowered tip of his own sword, sent sprawling onto the snow with one well-timed slap of Fergus' sword flat against his backside. Pride hurting more than his body, Alistair rolled over onto his back, wheezing slightly.

"It's been hours," he complained. "Surely it isn't supposed to take this long?"

Fergus chuckled, passing his sword into his shield hand to offer his king help in rising.

"Well, there's more than just the arrival to deal with, isn't there?" he pointed out, heaving his friend to his feet. "I shouldn't worry so much, Alistair. You're worse than Maria this afternoon."

"At least she's allowed to be there," the king muttered, swiping a hand across his brow.

"Ladies only, you know that," his friend reminded him. "And it's just as well. With everything we've done today, can you imagine taking that kind of energy into that room?"

Alistair winced. He knew perfectly well why he wasn't allowed to attend the event taking place - Fabs had been very clear with him. She knew her husband better than he sometimes knew himself; it seemed obvious now that she had known well in advance that he would not be able to behave himself in the circumstances.

Despite himself, he felt a familiar smile touch his face at the thought of his beautiful wife. It seemed like only yesterday that he had spoken his vows and laid the crown upon her head, and yet three years had flown by. Three very eventful years, not just for Thedas at large, but also for his small corner of it. Behind the larger issues of the elven army that appeared to be gathering out of sight, the threat of Fen'Harel, the disbanding of the Inquisition, the idiotic attempt at a civil revolt that had originated in Redcliffe, the discovery of griffins still living and being trained to Grey Warden hands ... behind all those were advances of a far more personal nature.

Demelza's success in her quest trumped it all. After years of searching, of tracking down leads and journeying into the furthest reaches of the back of beyond, his merry-tempered elven friend had stamped her way into Denerim in the dead of winter barely a year before, and delivered to him the cure she had been seeking. She had already taken it herself, and even Alistair had been able to see the changes in himself just a few days after he imbibed. The Blight was gone from his body and being, the tell-tale aches, the nightmares, the sense that his time was running out ... all gone. It had been nothing short of a miracle, and today he stood tall and strong, proud to be the King of Ferelden with many more years left to shape his country as he saw fit.

The sound of a door opening brought his head around with a snap that wrenched his neck, making his vision spin for a moment. He focused on Andra, one of Fabs' personal maids, feeling cold sweat break out over his skin, sticking his shirt to his back.

"Yes?" he asked, not waiting for her to finish her greeting and curtsy.

The elven woman bit down on a smile at his terse eagerness.

"They're ready for you, your majesty."

With a crash, Alistair dropped his sword and shield, hands moving to undo the buckles of his training leathers as long legs bore him hastily past the woman and into the palace. He paid no attention to the startled shriek of the steward he almost ran over in his haste, simply pushing his leathers into the man's hands before accelerating into a loping run, ignoring the half-hearted attempts of the nobles in the hall trying to get his attention. He burst through the double doors, tossing his gloves and mail coif onto the floor as he went, skidding around the corner and taking the stairs three at a time to the royal floor.

He was breathing hard by the time he arrived outside the Queen's chamber, pausing a moment to compose himself before raising a hand to push open the door itself. The scene he found there was almost enough to drive him to his knees.

There was Ceri and Ciara, fussing around the end of the bed, giggling quietly together in the strangely content stillness of the room. There was Maria, still growing into the beautiful young woman she would some day be, sitting on the bed itself, looking exhausted and happy. And finally, there was his beloved Fabs, sitting up in bed, flushed but smiling, and holding in her arms another small bundle from which one tiny hand flailed. She raised her eyes to her husband, speechless and unmoving in the doorway, and carefully brought one arm out from beneath the bundle to open her hand to him.

"Come, mi amore," she invited him, her voice weary but bright with the warm delight he so loved to hear from her. "Come and meet your daughter."

A daughter. For a moment, Alistair stood paralyzed in the doorway, his mind grasping at the words before they could fly away. Then his body was moving, without conscious thought, lurching him across the intervening space to crash down on his knees beside the bed. Fabs laughed softly, letting her fingers comb tenderly through his hair as he dared to look on the screwed up little face peeking out of the blankets.

"She's so small," he whispered, girding himself inwardly to lift his hand and delicately touch that flailing fist with one callused finger.

And abruptly melted from the inside out, as that tiny hand wrapped tightly about his finger, holding on with far more strength than he could possibly have believed a newborn baby could muster. He heard himself let out a sound that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, lifting his gaze to the lovely face watching him with a familiar smile.

"She's all right, is she?" he asked, vague concern rising for a brief moment, quashed when Fabs nodded in answer.

"Amara has checked her over," she promised her husband, the rich sweetness of the Antivan accent he had grown to prefer to any other female voice soothing the last prickles of his concern. "There is no Blight in her, Alistair. She is as you see."

"And you?"

Again, her smile was all he needed to feel relief coursing through his veins. It had been a long day, filled with black thoughts and worries alleviated only when Fergus provided him with distractions. Even with a mage healer on hand - and he would have to find some way to personally thank Amara for her work today - there were so many ways the birthing bed could become a deathbed, for the mother or the child. But not today. Today they had both come through hale and well, and he thanked the Maker for it.

He rose shakily onto his feet, easing down onto the bed beside her, only just aware that he was now the only visitor in the room. The ladies must have left to give them some privacy, he realized, determining to set time aside after dinner to spend some time with Maria after the events of the day. One arm curled automatically about his beautiful wife, tucking her close beneath his shoulder as he kissed her brow.

"I love you," he whispered, never tired of saying those words.

"As I love you, mi amore," she promised him in return, nestling close as they both turned their eyes to the wriggling infant in her arms.

"I can't believe she's here," Alistair said, keeping his voice low as though any untoward sound might rip his daughter from existence before his eyes. "What shall we call her?"

"I would like to give her a name that connects her to her family, our family," Fabs murmured, her head tipping comfortably onto his shoulder. "We never really thought of names for girls."

He heard the faint sense of failure in her voice, his arm tightening about her shoulders in response. They both knew there would be some voices raised in disappointment that the king's firstborn was not a male, but Alistair did not give two hoots for those voices.

"She's perfect," he told his wife firmly. "Let the idiots complain if they dare. You are the queen, you are my wife, and you are a wonderful mother. And if, for some reason, we aren't blessed with sons, I'll change the bloody constitution if I have to."

He felt Fabs relax under his arm, glad she trusted him to believe what he said. And he meant it. If they had no sons, he would change the constitution that stated only a man could rule unmarried. His daughter was not going to be pushed aside or forced to wed just because of a stupid law.

"I was wondering, though," he ventured, softening his voice once again. "Could we ... I mean, she's your daughter too, but ... could we maybe give her Dem's name in the middle there somewhere? Royal babies have lots of names, so I hear. Fabs."

Her nickname on his tongue at that point made her laugh - that first, fumbling attempt at speaking all her names distilled down into a single nickname that now she was known as across Ferelden. Everyone in Denerim seemed to have known her as Fabs before learning she was actually Felicita, and Queen Fabs had stuck in a big way. But still, she loved to hear it most from her husband's mouth.

"Yes, of course," she agreed with a nod. "I had thought as much. But ... I would like to suggest Cailynn, for your brother. Demelza, for our friend. And Mariah, for her sister."

"Cailynn?"

Alistair blinked, surprised and yet strangely touched by this nod to the brother he had only known from a distance. His last memory of Cailan had been his brother's funeral pyre, of watching the flames take the befouled corpse and cleanse the defilement the darkspawn had enacted upon it. Yet, for all his lack of common sense when it came to battle strategy, Cailan had been a popular king, and he had been mourned sincerely by the people. Alistair had mourned for him, for the brother he had never been allowed to know. This was a good way to honor the man, and the good memory he had left with those he had left behind.

"Cailynn Demelza Mariah," he repeated, looking down at the baby girl who still held his finger in her grip. "What do you think, hmm? A pretty name for a pretty princess?"

The closed eyes blinked open, newborn blues gazing up at him with an adorable lack of focus, and Alistair felt something in his heart snap. She was beautiful, as beautiful as the woman he loved, and he didn't care that his firstborn was a girl. She was his, and he was hers. Unconsciously, his arms tightened about both of them, holding his wife and daughter close as a slow tear trickled down his cheek.

"I swear to Andraste I will never let anyone or anything hurt you," he promised, his voice hoarse through his whisper. "Either of you. I love you, so much."

Fabs' hand rose, gently stroking his cheek as he kissed her palm.

"We love you," she answered in a tender tone. "Te amo, papi."

Father.

He was a father. He had a daughter, a beautiful little bundle who would grow up knowing she was loved and wanted. He would not be the father Maric had been, nor the guardian Eamon had been. Alistair's children would never know what it was to be unwanted.

He looked down at the sleeping face, easing his finger free to stroke the pad tenderly against one round cheek.

This, I swear.

#lechatrouge673 #commission fic #alistair theirin #fergus cousland #queen fabs #alistair x fabs #just a little fluff #kind of domestic #very family vibey

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bonfire-at-the-crossroads · 5 years

Text

Rutger Hauer has passed, and is on his way through the stars, toward the shoulder of Orion and the Tannhauser Gate.

He gave himself to the world of film and created characters which will continue to inspire the people lucky enough to share in the dreams he left behind.

I wrote this a couple years ago - and maybe it’s time to look at it again.

Thank you Mr Hauer for leaving this place a little brighter for your having been here.

Good journey, peace at last.....

————————————————————————————————————-

January 8, 2016

It's Roy Batty's birthday.

Ridley Scott's 1982 movie - Blade Runner - cast Rutgers Hauer as the renegade Replicant in search of his maker.

The film was a brilliant adaptation of Philip K Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Roy and a small group of Nexus-6 Replicants, have stolen an off-world transport, killed the crew, and returned to earth - in an attempt to coerce their designer to extend their programmed four-year lifespan. January 8, 2016 was the day of Roy's inception, and also the day his genetic coding has scheduled him for death.

He is being hunted by Harrison Ford, as hired-gun Deckard - a Blade Runner - paid to track and kill escaped Replicants.

----------------------------------------------

In 1982 - the idea of the year 2016 was a mind-numbing distance away.

"The Future" was a place where anything was possible, and our wildest dreams would come true.

It seems like yesterday.

And yet, when I started thinking about the world I inhabited in '82, and where I've washed up on the shores of 2016 - it's been quite an extended sea voyage.

I was married to somebody else.

We walked into town to the little movie theater on Central Avenue, and as we moved to our seats, were told by the usher ( yeah, that's right - there were still ushers ) -"You shouldn't even bother with this movie. It stinks. Four people at the last show actually asked for their money back."

We loved it.

Minds were blown - and we went back two more times, bringing friends.

That Christmas Eve - I had a small stroke. I was 26.

At the time, I was more worried about how the news would affect my husband - and did not fully appreciate my own predicament. He overheard the doctor on the phone making arrangements for what was then, the only echocardiogram machine in the New York area.

"Is that about you?" He asked. I nodded.

My husband passed out cold on the waiting room floor.

I survived. Had test after test after test, and slowly got my left side back under my own control.

Time passed.

We tried for the baby - and a series of horrors led to the loss of pregnancy, and culminated with a 3:00 AM visit to the emergency room.

The husband was so upset - he left me by the hospital entrance, and drove home.

When he inevitably decided that he needed "space" and wanted to "take a break" -(clearly, his office-affair had nothing to do with this decision ) - I used the time to take a good long look at the marriage.

When he came back three months later - I was not the girl he had walked out on.

The world had changed, and so had the locks.

-------------------------------------------------

I moved into the West Village with a girlfriend. It was awkward having a roommate after having a husband, home, and mortgage - but I made it work.

An unusual boyfriend followed, and several years of actors, artists, and cabaret performers filled my days and nights.

It was Manhattan in the '80's. There were nights out spent dancing at the clubs til dawn.

The Met was open late on Friday nights, and my group of fellow oddballs wandered the museum halls every week for over a year.

Art and illustration was my livelihood. I knew everyone in the Village ( at least by sight) and was completely comfortable in my element.

But my friends got sick.

And my friends started dying.

AIDS ravaged the world.

The Village was ground zero, and everyone was terrified. We didn't know where it was coming from, didn't know how to cope with the skeletal friend, the friend covered with sarcoma blotches - was it the end of the world?

In many ways - yes. It was.

The best, brightest, most talented people on earth were dying out - and all I could do was hold hands at the bedside, and attend memorial services.

There was a three month period when I went to a service EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

My dearest friend, Bruce - I never even knew when he was well. We were fellow illustrators, and spent hours a day with phone cocked between shoulder and ear - talking while we drew in our separate studios. He was in Chelsea, I was on the corner of Perry and West Fourth.

We brought children's books to life, and loved the work.

As AIDS ravaged his body, he needed to take long naps in the afternoons. His fever would spike uncontrollably - he called it "Shake and Bakes."

He fussed over the ugly sarcoma lesions which appeared on his arms and hands - he found a theatrical makeup which he swore would cover them up so that nobody would know.

Everybody pretended that it worked.

"Well, my sweet darling angel - I took a shower this morning, and guess what? I watched all my hair go down the drain."

Some medication he was taking, combined with what may have been a chemotherapy cocktail - took every hair on his head.

He entered the shower - with.

Exited - without.

He had been told this might be a possibility, and had already purchased a wig from a professional Broadway wig-maker.

It was awful looking, but we continued to pretend.

He slipped farther away, and was hospitalized on a closed floor reserved for AIDS patients.

I visited every single day.

I brought tiny gifts, saved up stories to make him laugh - and built my day around spending time with him.

His family wouldn't come and see him. Friends did their best, but simply couldn't be with him when push had finally come down to shove.

I remember shouting at his brother on the pay phone in the hospital hallway "I can't make this better. I'm not allowed to make decisions for his care, because I'm not a family member. He is dying, and you need to be here."

He wasn't.

I held Bru's hand, and wiped his forehead. I asked the nurse to turn up his oxygen because he was struggling and begging for air. "It's as high as it will go." she said - and even though it was time for all visitors to leave, she said I could stay.

The day before, he had spent time with a priest who had given him what I now believe was last rites. He seemed comforted, and we said what needed to be said.

"You know Bru....I will ALWAYS love you."

He smiled and said. "I know. And I will always love you too."

He took his last breath a little before midnight.

I closed his eyes.

Twenty seven years have passed since that night.

-----------------------------------------------

The unusual boyfriend fell victim to his own silliness. He convinced himself that another woman was sending him messages about being attracted to him - and he needed "some space" to explore the magic.

He did.

She didn't

And I was magically single again.

As 1990 dawned - the Internet had not been invented.

The cell phone - wasn't.

Video rental stores were visited daily, and made money hand-over-fist.

Blonde, Madonna, and all that wonderful 80's music that my kids now think is divine - were the sounds of the decade.

And I didn't quite trust CD's.....

Times Square was just beginning to shed the peep shows and adult movie houses.

It was gritty, and how I loved it.

July 4th of 1990 I found myself eating in the diner downstairs from my apartment on the corner of 14th St and Seventh Avenue.

It was empty.

I ate my bluefish dinner and went back upstairs to the drawing board.

One single red rocket cleared the rooftops and the stars rained down.

I was bored.

Decided to place a personal ad in The Village Voice. "Looking for an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee....." and some other minor nonsense.

Over 350 people responded in the three days I checked the answering machine.

"I've never answered a personal ad," said the voice on the phone."I live with a grey cat. And I'm reading DUNE. Maybe you could call me, and we'll get a cup of coffee?"

On our third date, he never went back home.

"You know what? It's getting kind of silly to keep paying for an apartment to keep my cat in...."

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "Are you asking to officIally move in here?"

" Nope. Let's get married. It'll be fun. I'm not exactly getting younger - either are you. Why not?"

"It'll either work - or it won't. What's the reason that we shouldn't at least TRY?"

He talked me into it.

Brian and I were married in the Cathedral of St John the Divine, three months after our first date. Twenty five years ago, last October.

Babies happened. Three in a row. "Irish triplets" as my obstetrician called them.

Quinn.

Morgan.

Maddie.

They were (and are ) the three finest people I have ever known - and are the center of my soul.

Brian and I survived critical fulcrum points where the smallest waver would have plunged all of us into hell.

We stared death in the face - death blinked, and looked away,

more than once.

We walked away from alcoholism.

Left cigarettes behind,

Did battle with depression,

and kept walking....

We've skated on the thinnest of financial ice for YEARS.

We've worked and worked and worked some more - and it was never going to be enough to keep the ship afloat.

The kids, as we've laughed over the years have "Never missed a meal."

Nothing was easy, but our youngest will be the third to graduate from college in the Spring. Yes, there are loans to be paid - and we'll do everything we can to help them gain traction in their lives.

About a year and a half ago we took a good hard look at where the road was leading us. Our ability to maintain the income necessary to support our lives in Westchester county, in a big house with a big mortgage - huge utility bills, and a dwindling job market - we came up with a plan.

The bank was unhappy with our syncopated mortgage payment schedule - and really wanted their house back. Things were sliding downhill, and we simply couldn't stop it.

"Let's take the money from my last free-lance job, and buy a house in Ireland."

Found one.

And did.

Sold the house in Westchester.

Packed up everything we could.

Got on the plane.

And here we are.

January 8th, 2016, and it's 1982 all over again.

The Replicant is out of time.

He sits high on the rooftops above the city, rain is pouring from the black skies - and Roy Batty,- in his last moment of life - knows what it is to be fully human.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

We all go through the motions. We get out of bed every day, and do our best to keep our lives and our families moving forward.

We work.

And plan.

And strive for happiness.

I'm no Roy - but I too, have seen things that will pass away with me when I go.

I, too, have learned what it is to be fully, and completely - human.

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linguisticswithlester · 6 years

Text

Let Me Memorize Your Eyes - Chapter 5: Empty Name Tag

Rating: Not Rated

Word Count: 2734

Warnings: VERBAL/MENTAL ABUSE MENTIONED AND A BREIF MENTION OF HOMOPHOBIA

Note: So sorry for no upload on Thursday. I have so much stuff going on with school and work that uploading twice a week is not a good idea. So instead, ill be uploading every Monday (or I'll try too). I hope you all enjoy this chapter, its a little longer and I actually enjoy this one. Im going to try and speed things up from now on in the story so prepare for that because im ready for the dnp angst.

Summary: Phil is a struggling artist with bruised trust and Dan is a talented baker working in a coffee shop trying to forget his smoldering past. When their paths cross will Dan end up being Phil’s new muse? Or will he be the one thing keeping Phil from putting brush to canvas ever again?

[Read on AO3]

[Read from the beginning]

Phil was laying on top of his unmade bed trying to fall asleep in the heat of summer but, sleep wasn’t going to make its appearance tonight. Rolling over, Phil let out a sigh; today was rough. It started out with an email that may change his life, he actually drew something so that was a start; he saw a cute boy and didn’t completely make a fool of himself. So that was an upside. That café has been in his life for a while so it’s just about time something embarrassing happen. Phil’s just waiting for it to hit.

Phil has been going to that café for just around two months. His coffee maker broke around that time and going to the shop to replace it wasn’t on Phil’s list of most important to-dos. He always passed by it on his way home from work throughout the week anyway. So he figured he’d give it a go after day three without coffee.

He knew Becca and Will, well he knew their names but, that still counts. He would talk to them from time to time and they had his order down to a science. They were the only two employees that have worked there since Phil started going. The other employees always end up leaving after a few weeks for reasons Phil had no idea about.

The café was cute and quaint. It had a homey feel to it; it looked as if a grandma decorated it and the owners never bothered to change it. It reminded him of home, with his parents, before he decided to move out and move in with Andrew all those years ago. That move was the spark of his creativity but, it also was the destruction. Everything that made Phil, stemmed from Andrew. The way Phil wore is hair, the clothes he wore, the shows he watched. Everything that Phil knew was because of him.

They had met when Phil was right out of high school. Phil was naïve and still figuring stuff out but, Andrew swept him off his feet and never set him back down. He was a sweet talker and made Phil feel things that no one ever has. He made him feel safe and secure and when people would pick on Phil for his sexuality, he stood up for him and made him feel like nobody matter but him. Until, that trait made a turn for the worst. Everything Phil did had to revolve around Andrew. When Phil woke up, when he went to bed, how he did the laundry. Andrew wanted everything to be perfect, even Phil. He would scold Phil if anything was out of place.

And that was the thing, Andrew would say the meanest, rudest things to Phil, yet he thought he deserved it. Andrew was Phil’s first love and Phil wanted to keep him as long as he could. After fights, Andrew would come back and apologize; making Phil feel special again. He would cry and say sweet things trying to make up for what was said previously. Phil tried his best to be everything Andrew wanted but, being something you’re not is a lot of unnecessary work.

Towards the end of their eight-year relationship, Phil finally saw what Andrew was and everything he had done to Phil. Andrew would never lay a hand on Phil in a violent manner, but Andrew tried his best to ruin Phil’s brain. Phil wasn’t a puppet, where one could grab his strings. He wasn’t a science project that needed revision. He was Phil. He was imperfect and messy; he made stupid puns that no one laughs at and cries watching animal planet. But that is okay, because that is Phil. It took him such a long time to realize that but, once he did. He knew he had to leave.

A single tear fell from Phil’s eye landing on his pillow in princess fashion, wiping away the trail it left on his face, Phil dug himself out of the hole that he crawled himself back into. It was hard not dwelling on memories that took up so much of your life. It took Phil so long to realize to that he was worth fight for. He began seeing a therapist that helped him through some of his doubts after he left Andrew. Phil still sees her from time to time, when he thinks he needs to. Five months isn’t a long time to get over an abusive relationship, but it was a start and that’s all Phil needed; a start. Painting used to be his release because he could see the light at the end of the tunnel but now, the light is gone and all there is grey. He can still make out shapes and some memories but there is an overcast refusing to move. Picking up a paintbrush was hard but, letting the dark memories of his past control him was harder.

Refusing to let another memory cloud his eyesight, he got out of bed. Leaving the covers ruffled and the pillows thrown about, Phil slipped into an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts he didn’t really care about and set out on a mission. Five months may not be a long time to get over an abusive ex but it sure was enough time to lose everything you once thought you could place. Checking under the bed, the bathroom closest, the lounge, and finally on the top shelf of the hallway closet, Phil found what he was looking for; his canvas.

Grabbing one down from the shelf, he also grabbed his easel that was propped in the corner, and headed back into his room. Phil laid down an old sheet across the floor and set up the easel placing the canvas delicately on top. Rushing about, Phil, gathered up paintbrushes, paint, his color tray, and anything else that he thought he might need. Grabbing his apron that hung with his jackets that he hasn’t needed in months, Phil loosely tied it around the back.

Staring at the blank canvas, with a paintbrush in hand is something Phil hasn’t done in months but, to back in this position felt right. It was like everything that he had been suppressing and hiding away was diminishing. Every swipe of the brush that touched the canvas erased another memory of Andrew yelling. Every changed color made every foul word that Phil ever thought about himself because of Andrew, vanish. Every time he blended and added dimension to the picture, his past blurred and a brighter future came forward to say Hi.

Furiously brushing the paint back and forth; blending here and adding shadows there, Phil had finally finished his painting. Taking a step back to see what became of his sleepless night, Phil gasped. He didn’t really pay much attention to what he was painting, or more like who he was painting. His thoughts had taken over and his hands did the rest.

The mystery boy with no name became what the canvas was showcasing. A chipped smile, unruly Hersey curls, and an outdated purple apron filled the once empty piece of fabric. It was beautiful for only having seen the man for a brief passing of time just that morning. Was Phil really staring at him? He could have sworn he only glanced up occasionally… right?

Inspecting the portrait, the boy was looking down at his right shoulder, curls flowing over his eyebrows. On the right side of his chest was an empty name tag tugging on the strap of his apron that had been worn by many. The boy was sporting a smirk that showed his top teeth but, his eyes just weren’t right. There was something off about them. Phil tried remembering how the boy looked at him handing him his coffee that morning but, all Phil saw was a missing name.

How could he have memorized that boys face so well but, not memorize his eyes?

______

Dan has been at the café for a little over a week now and it’s not as bad as it was in the beginning. He is getting along well with his coworkers; Becca still talks a lot but she’s running out of new information to gossip about and Will, well, Will’s still an idiot. Dan clocked out of his shift a few minutes after he was supposed to; they always have a rush right at four o’clock. He can’t seem to understand why April always has him leave at such an odd time. It gets a little chaotic trying to switch over current orders to the next person.

Dan hung up his apron and walked to his locker. There wasn’t much he kept in there; just his phone, wallet and, keys. Grabbing his belongings, he headed for the door. Shouting goodbyes once again to other workers he could finally call acquaintances, he pushed open the old wooded door making the bell above it chime in goodbyes. Turning left out of the building, Dan clicked the home button on his phone, lighting up the screen. No new messages.

He didn’t know what he was expecting but, something at least would have been nice. A text or phone call, just to let him know she was alright. Dan’s girlfriend had been on vacation for the last few weeks and he’s only heard from her a couple times. Her friends are better at letting him know she’s safe than she is. She can update Instagram just fine but, sending a text to her boyfriend was apparently too hard. Dan punched in her number on the dimming screen and raised it to his ear.

Ring.

We’re sorry but, the person you are trying to reach right now ca-

Click.

Wow, how surprising…Shoving his phone into his back pocket, Dan let out a breath. Relationships were hard but, they were even harder when one half of it forgets they’re in one. Thinking of all the things he was going to say to her when, if, she calls, Dan pulled down his long-sleeved shirt he had rolled up by his elbows and wrapped them around his hands. It may have been summer, and it may have been hot but, Dan was going to wear whatever the hell he felt like wearing.

Scrunching his hands into fists to keep the sleeves in place, Dan picked up his speed. He didn’t live too far from his work place; just a few blocks down actually. He recently moved to the area after what had happened back home. The memory still burned but, he was healing, mentally and physically. Clinching his fists tighter, as his hidden scars started to sting as if on que, he looked up.

Just when his eyes started to focus after his quick head lift, he spotted a fringe. It was black and looked smooth to the touch. Headphones around the owner’s ears with the cord running over the man’s chest, splitting in half the yellow star that took up most of his red shirt, created a ruffle in the otherwise tame hair. He wasn’t walking particularly fast, nor was he walking slow. He was walking with a sway of his hips and his hands twitching to what Dan assumed was with the rhythm of the music he was listening to through the headphones that canceled out the rest of the world.

“Do I know him? Why does he look familiar? Those glasses look too big for his he-” Dan thought to himself as the man walked right past him without adverting his eyes anywhere but to right in front of him.

“One L!” Dan said out loud, quickly reaching up and putting a hand over his mouth, thankful that the man was wearing headphones. It was the man from earlier in the week. Dan hadn’t seen him in the café since then. In all honesty, Dan was kind of disappointed. There was something about how focused and committed that man with one “L” was about what he was working on that inspired Dan. And he wouldn’t mind seeing his face again…

Dan glanced back to get one more look at the man that put a trance on him for some reason. He has never seen someone that looks quite like that man. He has a unique face, one that Dan wanted to get to know. Before Dan started his in depth analysis of a stranger’s face, his phone started to vibrate. He took out his phone and looked at his screen.

Incoming Call: Carol

Shit.

Dan rolled his eyes, swiped right and, answered the call just as he was throwing open the door leading into the building leading to his flat. Stepping carefully up the stairs, Dan said, “Hey Carol! How’s your vacation going so far?”

“Oh my god! It’s been so much fun! The beach is amazing and I never want to leave.” Carol replied, although it was hard to hear with the loud music playing in the background. “Although, Kristen said you’ve been messaging her all week. Can’t you just let me enjoy my vacation without having to check in on me every second of everyday?” Dan heard a squawk of girls in the background all chanting in agreement to what Carol had just said, as she let out a giggle to make what she said not seem so spiteful. He could tell they have already started drinking.

Dan’s eyes dropped and his head followed. Right outside of his flat’s door, dropping his keys from the now unlocked brass handle, Dan laid his forehead against the off-white door.

“Yeah, Okay Carol. I just wanted to make sure you were all right and that you were having a good time. I care about you and wanted to make sure you were safe. But it seems as if you would rather talk to literally anybody else than your actual boyfriend. What’s up with that?”

Dan had been having doubts about his relationship for a few months now. Carol never seemed to care what Dan was up to and never asked how he was anymore. Movies were painful to watch, dinner was always half eaten, and anything past a pat on the back was uncomfortable. They didn’t have a falling out; there was no mention of cheating. Carol changed though and their interests contradicted each other.

She became more herself and for that Dan was proud. He had been trying to get her to see her worth for years, even before they started dating. However, unfortunately for him, her new found self didn’t leave time for an outdated Daniel. Dan did his rediscovery, now it was her turn. If she wanted space, he would give it to her.

Before Carol had a chance to get defensive and place the blame on Dan, he said, “Hey Listen, I know that you want to have fun and enjoy the beach. I understand that; I just want you to know I love you and I want you to be safe. I’m a phone call away if you need me. Love you and I’ll talk to you when you get back. Bye Carol.”

Click.

He hung up before she had a chance to reply. Her new found self wanted to do all these new and adventurous things that Dan would never dream of doing. She held a little bit of resentment because of it. She wanted this fun life full of Instagram worthy pictures with Dan by her side but, Dan was okay playing Mario-Kart in the living room until 1am and talking walks through the same parks. He tried to be what she wanted but, his dreams kept him in Manchester. Everything he had ever worked for was there.

Pushing his unlocked door open, a cool breeze coming from his flat brushed past him. He was one of the lucky ones to find a flat that had AC. He threw his keys on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and headed to his bedroom. Not bothering to take his shoes off, Dan fell face first into his bed, letting out a sigh. Dan’s eyes started closing and his head started to clear when –

Bzz-bzz-bzz

April: Hey Dan. Sorry to bother you after work but, I need to talk to you about your schedule. We have had somebody else quit and I need to move you to our evening shift.

Ugh.

#lmmye #i hope you guys enjoy it #i actually like this one #please be easy with me im still new to this #if you see any mistakes feel free to message me so i can fix them #phanfic #phanfiction #my first fic #chapter 5 #phan #dnp #dan and phil #daniel howell #dan howell #phil lester #amazingphil #painter/baker au #feel free to ask me questions!

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amateur-troubadour · 3 years

Text

The Nebraska Chapter

When I opened my eyes, I was laying in my bed back home. Or at least it was my bed before I’d graduated high school. We’d gotten rid of it when the basement flooded during my second year of college and the bedframe became warped. Rolling out of it, I realized that I wasn’t just in my high school bed. I was also in my high school body. I’d thought I felt a pound or thirty lighter.

Being back in high school wasn’t too surprising. The dreams tended to go that way. Something about appearing as the last you that you really felt was you. I can’t remember who told me all of that, but it sounded like a whole lotta horseshit to me. The only reason high school John wasn’t coping poorly with his problems was that he was actively ignoring them. Maybe that’s exactly who I was though, and this trend of tackling issues head-on was causing some dissonance in me.

I took a couple of groggy steps out of the room and into the rest of the basement. My basement. Not dirty and dark like the house in Iowa, rotted steps and who-knows-whats lurking around the corners. Dirty and bright. Home. Slowly, testing out the limitations of my newly awakened body, I made my way up the stairs. Reaching the top, I heard the familiar “DING!” of our Pizzazz pizza maker. Two Jack’s pepperoni pizzas a day were made on that baby.

My mother rushed over to take Steven’s pizza off so it didn’t burn. Deftly, she cut it into eight, mostly equal pieces. It was a skill she’d honed every day since Steven had turned 12. He rarely ate anything besides Jack’s pizza, except when he had breakfast. At breakfast, he had six Oreos (or Chips Ahoy if Oreos weren’t available) with milk and a glass of pink lemonade. Steven was a man of routine. After cutting his pizza, my mother added a generous dose of salt and pepper to help the grease go down. She brought him his pizza, still on the cardboard cutting circle, with a cold Dr. Pepper, which she opened for him.

“When did you start giving him the full pizza?” I asked, announcing my presence.

They both turned to look at me, and my mother decided that, of the two of them, she should be the one to answer. “You startled me,” she said, beginning to compose herself a bit more, “When did you decide that you were going to wake up?”

“Right now, I guess. When did you start giving him the full pizza?”

“I don’t know. Probably around the time you went to visit your friend in Nebraska,” she said, walking back to the kitchen. She’d been cleaning before making Steven’s pizza, it seems. “Why do you ask? Do you think he’s getting fat?”

“Am I getting fat?” Steven chimed in. Since entering high school, I guess he’d gone down the path of every other high schooler, growing self-conscious about his body. He’d slimmed down a lot. The mandatory exercise classes probably helped. He’d started working out at home too, or at least making an attempt at it. My parents even brought the old exercise bike upstairs into the living room for him.

“No,” I said, “despite Mom’s best efforts to change that.”

“Will you leave him alone? You know he only eats pizza.”

“You never tried to give him anything else.” I knew how this argument would go. I’d had it so many times before with her and, given that I knew I was dreaming and that the whole world around me was based on my mind, I couldn’t imagine it going any differently. Still, it was fun to be antagonistic to her. Small acts of revenge for my childhood.

“That’s not true. Remember when we tried to tell him we weren’t giving him any more pizzas?” “And then you caved immediately? Sure.”

“What’s your solution?”

“Actually follow through on the threat. Don’t make him pizza. He’ll eat something new, or…” and I turned to Steven, pausing for dramatic effect, mustering the most sinister grin I could, “…he’ll starve.”

My mom ignored me, but a look of genuine concern flashed across Steven’s face, and I felt guilty for a moment. I wanted to feel guilty about being mean to him sometimes. It had become hard for me to separate him from my parent’s babying though, and I hated the babying. Giving him a good scare was like pushing back a little bit, like teaching him his first swears or where to safely watch porn online.

I walked over to Steven and sat in the recliner beside him. He had his little setup in his own recliner beside the window, looking over the fenced-in backyard. Two TV trays: one for his laptop, permanently on, usually browsing YouTube or DeviantArt; the other for anything else he might need at the time, like notebooks for drawing his comics or, as was the case right now, an entire pizza. Steven more or less owned the living room, forcing my parents to watch TV upstairs. He went on kicks of watching and then rewatching the same movie or show all day, and the big TV with surround sound was the best place for him to do it.

“What’re we up to today bud?” As per usual, Steven immediately closed all his tabs when I approached. I knew what he was doing. He was looking up drawings of cartoon women with large waists in the middle of the day, in front of God and everyone else. On the times that I looked through his notebook like the nosey older brother I am, I saw that he’d begun drawing his own cartoon women too.

“Nothing.” He stared at me for a bit and realized I didn’t plan on going anywhere. “Say John,” he began, firing into his question voice, “have you seen the Rise of the TMNT on Nickelodeon?”

“I can’t say I have. I don’t watch too much TV.” I gave him the same smile as earlier, “It rots your brain.”

“Well,” a pause as he processed how to take my joke, “you should watch it. It’s funny.”

“I’ll get around to it, I’m sure.”

I’d been led to believe that, when you realized you were dreaming, you could do anything you wanted. I never had that kind of luck. Anytime I realized I was dreaming, like I had now, it was always because whatever demons leading me on a goose chase had something new to show me. Well, what is it? Where are you sending me next? Get to the fucking point already. I hadn’t done much scavenging yet, but they’d already dragged me halfway across the country. How long would it be before I had to make an effort at renewing my passport?

“John,” I heard my mother calling, “would you come here for a second?” She was in the laundry room right off the kitchen. Standing from my chair, I marched my way there like a prisoner to the electric chair. Slow, slouched, resigned. She was folding my clothes in her own system that I’d never quite understood. She was really picky about it though. When she saw I was there, she held up a plaid crew sock. Along the side of it was the phrase “busy making a fucking difference” in all capital letters. I couldn’t imagine someone actually making any kind of difference wearing those.

“Where’d you get these?” she asked. It was a weird question considering I’d had them for well over a year now.

“I got them when I went to visit Taryn a while back. Some festival or something.” “Yeah,” she said, “but where did you get them?”

“I’m not sure I’m understanding the question.” This is what the demon-sent dreams were like. Boring, mundane, but just a little bit off, like the entire world was shifted just three inches to the left. If I didn’t think about it, I might not notice, but I’d been thinking a lot for a while now. I took a good look at my mom now. Sure, her line of questioning was strange, but I realized now that her face was even stranger. Her eyes were too big for a human face by the tiniest amount, and her pupils were just a bit too long horizontally. She always had a thing for frogs.

“It’s a simple question,” she said as she stepped forward, still holding the sock up for me. “Where did you get the socks John?”

I began to back up, back into the kitchen. The sun was hidden by clouds, so the light felt very grey. Her legs looked like they were growing longer and blending together, becoming something rather snake-y.

“Well, Taryn lives in Nebraska, so if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say Nebraska,” I had backed up against a counter now, but she was still coming closer. She was definitely half-snake now, and she was very slowly slithering towards me. Her arms began to grow longer, reaching down past where her knees used to be until her knuckles scraped along the floor. It didn’t seem necessary, given the whole slithering-like-a-snake thing, but I could roll with it.

“What city?”

It was only at this point that it dawned on me that the dream might be leading me towards Nebraska. Seward, Nebraska, where they threw an annual festival revolving around corn and how much they hated Idaho and their potatoes. With this realization came my mother’s shirt bursting open, revealing leathery wings on her back and a smaller, thicker set of arms beneath the spaghetti ones she used to walk. Guess I never realized how much of a monster I thought my mother was.

Slowly, one of her long arms grabbed the counter next to me, pulling her close enough for her stronger arms to grab me. I think she tried to smile, but it looked more like baring fangs. Her face had warped beyond anything human, now looking awfully frog-ish. When she blinked, you could still see her eyes, like the eyelids had become translucent. She smelled like fish.

“I got the message,” I said, trying to get my fingers between hers and my body, trying to pry her grip off of me. “I’ll just go to Seward and work it out from there. Can I wake up yet?”

“No.” Her voice had changed too. My mom’s voice was still in there for sure, but now I was getting hints of several exes and my third-grade teacher, the one that forced me to write in cursive despite the fact I could barely write in print. People I, at best, hoped to never meet again. “We are beginning to think that you might not be the one we want for this.”

“Maybe if you told me a little more about what I’m supposed to be doing, I’d be better at doing it. Hard to follow instructions that aren’t offered.”

“No. We have decided that it is better to dispose of you, be done with all of the delays, find someone stronger to free us.”

Steven was sneaking up behind the monster, dragging his blanket with him. He didn’t seem the least bit worried about the fact that we might not have a mom anymore. Before the thing could notice, Steven threw his blanket over its head and yanked down, causing it to reach up with all four hands to pull the blanket off.

“Outside John!” With that, he took off towards the front door. I followed without bothering to put on shoes, something I’d regret once hitting the pavement of the street, but desperate times and all that. We ran about a football field’s worth of dead-end street before we made it to the middle of the intersection leading to the house. There, Steven stopped and turned. Given that he hadn’t steered me wrong yet, I did the same.

Horror movies like to use the slow, determined monster to scare people. Be it a zombie or some killer like Jason Vorhees, there’s just something terrifying about seeing the inevitability of death personified, marching towards you. I do believe, however, that Hollywood has seriously underestimated how scary death can be when it hauls ass at you like a sports car, 0 to 60 in no time flat. I say this because I practically shit myself watching the frog-snake monster burst from the house and fly towards us.

Seeing it in action finally gave me a sense of its locomotion that the confined space of the house had kept chained. The monster was very top heavy, so it beat its leathery wings as a way of counterbalancing its forward lean. In addition, it used the long arms as front paws, supporting itself on the knuckles. As it raced towards us, I could see that its fists were beginning to crack and bleed because of how hard it was pounding against the pavement. I tugged at Steven’s shirt to try and get him to move, but he stood still.

“We really need to go Steven!”

“I think we should stand here.” He seemed awfully calm about it all, and that calmed me down in turn. He always had a way of making me more resolute. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was the last person in the family to still think I could do something with my life, and I had to live up to those expectations.

Still, the monster was closing distance far too fast. You know how, when you try and run in a dream, it sometimes feels as if you’re doing the cartoon run-in-place thing instead of getting anywhere? The monster was currently facing the opposite side of that coin. Every one of its movements seemed to cover more ground than any three of mine. I stepped in front of Steven and closed my eyes. The best way to take a hit is to be as unaware of it as possible.

And then there was a sizzle, a scream not quite human, the smell of frog legs, and finally the feeling of the sun hitting my face. I opened my eyes.

What had been my mother was slowly burning to ash in front of me on the ground, a single long hand laying at my bare feet, completely skeletonized. The sun had formed bright, painful blisters all over the creature’s body, and I could still hear the sizzling as it was cooked alive.

“Maybe…” it croaked, “…we’ve underestimated you. Free us.” The rest of it became ash, leaving only charred bones in its wake.

I turned to Steven, exhaled for a long time, and asked him how he knew that would happen.

“How did I know what would happen?”

“The sun. The monster. The way the sun melted the monster. Any of that would be fine.”

He thought about it for a second, really mulling it over, before he gave me a smile, the kind I gave him when I teased him. Slowly and deliberately, he said, “I don’t know. It’s your dream.”

“You’re a killjoy.” I walked closer to what had been the body of the monster, some six feet away from its outstretched arm. It had truly been some kind of hideous creature, like something you could imagine lived off of a diet exclusively composed of babies. The depravity of evil knows no bounds. I’d read that somewhere, I’m sure.

#short story #creative writing #writing

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araglas1989-writing · 6 years

Text

Lost Control 2/?

After Anders nearly killed the Mage girl, he decided to take a few days for himself, to which Hawke agreed. After all Anders promised that he wouldn't leave Kirkwall. But those 'few days' had turned to a month now and still the Apostate refused to leave his clinic.

The first days without the mage were like a vacation for Fenris. Nobody wanted to argue with him about Mage rights. Nobody except Isabela who was nagging him. Fenris wouldn’t speak with Merrill, he had some amusing conversations with Varric, Sebastian still tried to convert him, Hawke told witty stories while they were hunting and with Aveline he had some deep conversations about the pros and cons of fighting with a sword and shield as opposed to fighting with a two-handed sword.

After the first week and a half, Fenris began to get restless. His mood started to darken. He became quiet again or started small arguments with the others. At the end of the second week he broke his 'don't speak with Merrill' rule and tried to pick a fight with her. She just got scared, causing Isabela and Varric to get really protective over her and so he stopped.

After three weeks of restlessness, he couldn't even sleep well anymore. Fenris got into his first real fight with Varric because he snapped when he overheard Varric telling Isabela, 'that it seemed like Broody missed Blondie.'

It was Hawke that told him to stop and Fenris` mouth snapped shut because there was something about the tone of voice that Hawke used that triggered his slave instincts. He stared at the Mage in irritation before storming out of the Hanged Man.

Tonight was card night at the Hanged Man. They always told Fenris that he had the perfect pokerface and this was true, but when it came to this game his pokerface was only because he just didn't know if his hand was a winning or a losing hand. Oddly enough, it was more often a winning one.

They were already on their third round when finaly Hawke joined them. Garrett plopped himself down on a seat, ordered a drink and then sighed in frustration.

"He still refuses to join us! I don't understand him anymore. Sure, he did nearly kill the girl, but he didn't! I understand that he needed some time to himself, but this long? I don't think it helps him much to lock us out..."

"He lost control. A Mage without control is a danger for everyone around him and for himself" Fenris snarled, looking at his cards. "You should have let me put him out..."

"Fenris! He’s our friend! He just slipped up one time, that's no reason to let him down! And by the way, he isn't the only one who loses control from time to time."

Fenris dared to look up to Hawke before glancing at his cards again.

"As you say."

Again Hawke sighed. His drink arrived and he took a deep gulp, sighing in relief when he put it down. He ran a hand though his beard. "I really don't think he takes the isolation well... He looks awful but he doesn't want to speak with me. Has he spoken to any of you?"

A collective shake of heads gave him the answer.

"The only thing, I can do is keep the templars away", Varric sighed, "Anders always sends me away, when I try to help."

"He even sent me away! Me! Though I offered him some nice little distractions", Isabela pointed at her body. It seemed like she was indignant about the thought that someone turned her down.

Garrett noded. "If it wasn't for Justice, I would be concerned that he might harm himself. But the spirit wouldn't allow that."

Fenris ears began to ring and his eyes stared blankly at his cards when a memory surfaced:

'Fenris, did you ever think about killing yourself?'

'I could ask you the same thing.’

'I'm serious. To get out of slavery, to escape Danarius... don't tell me you never thought about it.'

'I did not. To kill oneself is a sin in the eyes of the Maker.'

' You... believe that?

'' I try to. Some things must be worse than slavery.'

' Some things are worse than death.'

Suddenly Fenris tossed his cards on the table.

"I have had enough" He stated, standing up and leaving without looking at anyone. Leaving them baffled. But then again, it was still Fenris and so it wasn't too uncommon for him to behave like that.

In the fresh air he stopped, taking a deep breath before he started to walk again. His steps didn't lead him to Hightown but into the darkness of Darktown. He stopped at a store to buy something before making his way to the clinic.

Reaching it he knocked.

Nothing happend.

He knocked again.

Still nothing happened.

"I know you are there and this little piece of wood will not stop me. So if you like having a door, I recommend that you open."

Fenris could hear movement behind the door and about a minute later it opened a little.

"Are you here to kill me? I hope so" the voice of the Mage sounded hoarse but unpleasantly hopeful.

"No I am not... Not yet anyway" Fenris answered, sniffing because of the bad smell coming from the darkness of the clinic. "Now let me in."

Anders opened the door a bit more but didn't move away. He glanced up and down at Fenris, hesitating when he saw a bottle of wine in his hands.

"You... are here to drink wine with me? Justice still doesn’t allow that. Are you here because Hawke made you come? I don't want to talk! I want to be alone!"

The Elf frowned. The man infront of him appeared not to have washed himself in days, maybe weeks. His skin was pale, his eyes dull and his hair oily. Not to mention that he had a messy beard. Hawke was right, he looks awful.

"The wine isn't for you. Are you really thinking Hawke would send me to you while you are this weak? And now let me in."

Anders winced at those words. Especially hearing himself referred to as weak. "And if I don't?"

Fenris opened his mouth to respond, then he dropped his gaze. The former slave still had problems with looking in the eyes of other people . Oddly enough he’d always held most eye contact with Anders as when he was angry it was easier to maintain it. But now he didn't want to argue.

"Then... I will have to come back again and again till you let me in..."

The Mage looked puzzled and took step back, letting the other man in.

The only light in the clinic came from behind the curtain that separated Anders bedroom from the rest of the clinic. So Fenris went there whilst Anders closed the door and followed slowly.

The Elf noticed when he got into the separated area that this part was a mess while the patient area was clean. He sat down on the only chair, waiting till Anders sat on his cot.

"It is a month now. The others are really worried about you" Fenris stated, trying to open the bottle of wine still in his hands.

"I didn't ask them too" Anders answered weakly, looking at the Warrior attempting to understand why he would come here. Why would the elf bother to come back if Anders sent him away? And why by Andrastes Tits would the elf want to drink his wine here?

"I know. I think that’s what friends are supposed to do. Not that I have much knowledge about this. But I know they consider you a friend. For whatever reason..." Fenris finally opened the bottle, taking a deep gulp of the wine.

"Yeah. For whatever reason... I don't deserve their concern, their friendship." Anders was still watching the elf, eyeing the movement of his Adam’s apple as Fenris drank.

Fenris wiped his mouth after finishing drinking.

"Yeah my thoughts exactly" He still didn't look at Anders' face.

The Mage closed his eyes. "So you are here to make me feel even worse? Or is there actually a reason for you to be here?"

"You should come back" Fenris glanced at Anders, noticing the slightly shaking hands of the Mage. I wonder if he’s eaten anything... Fenris looked away again and fidgeted with the wine bottle.

"I..." Anders shifted nervously. "I can't. Not after what happend. I lost control! I nearly killed her. I'm dedicated to save Mages but I nearly killed one of my own kind! No... I can't be sure that this wouldn't happen again..."

Fenris drank some more wine, closing his eyes as he did so. He wiped his mouth afterwards and stared at some point on the cot but not at the Blonde.

"After I got my markings," He started with a soft, dark voice, damped by memories. "there was a time I couldn't control them. I phased and materialized unintentionally. So Danarius made a collar and put it on me" Fenris’ empty hand touched his throat unconciously.

Anders watched spellbound. It was the first time Fenris had spoken openly to Anders about something from his past. At least, without using the memory to insult Anders in some way. He nearly forgot to breath simply because he didn't want to make a sound for fear the Elf would stop speaking.

"With this collar he had the power phase and materializeme at his will. You would think it would help me to get control over what was happening, but it was an awful feeling. He started to kill slaves or lesser Mages who angered him with my hands so that I would learn how it works. Bit by bit he gave me back some of the control so that I could do it on my own. At last he put the collar away because I knew how to use my new abilities. At that point I would kill anyone he wanted me to. Mages, Magisters... fellow slaves..." Again Fenris took a brief gulp of the wine.

"How awful! But it wasn't your fault." Anders voice was compassionate. Now that he’d spoken more he didn't sound as hoarse as he did at the beginning.

Fenris faced the Mage, nodding at him. "I think you, also, have such a collar."

"What?"

"Yes. Mine was an actual collar but yours is named Vengeance… It wasn't you."

"You... an absolution from you? How ironic! Yes Vengeance was involved, but I'm the reason he exist! I did this to Justice."

Again Fenris gaze shifted away. "Always so quick to judge yourself. Did it ever occur to you, that he did that to you?"

"I... don't understand what you mean..."Anders looked at the Elf in irritation.

"What I mean is, you were already in danger as an Apostate but as an Abomination the templars will definitely kill you. You are unstable... And I don't know why exactly you fleed from the Grey Wardens but I think I overheard you telling Varric that you felt at home there. Free for the first time in years. And I might be wrong, but wasn't it Justice’s fault you left?"

Now Anders gaze dropped into his lap where he played with his fingers. "Sure I was free there for some time... Till they got a Templar through the ceremony to watch me. Then it was the fucking circle all over again...! At that time, Kristoff's body was dying so I offered myself to Justice as a host. First he refused but later, we were on patrol together with two other Wardens and that damn Templar… Anyway, we merged but my anger was too much... it twisted him... and... we killed them all. Even my friends... after that I could only run." A choking noise made him look up again.

Fenris choked on a sip of wine, coughing to get rid of it. After a minute the elf had caught his breath again.

Anders misunderstood the reason why Fenris choked and looked away in shame.

"Yeah I know, it's disgusting and pathetic. I killed them though we fought and laughed so often together. I'm a monster. Do you see? You were right all along..."

"Don't babble Mage."

The strange tone in the voice of the Warrior made Anders look up at him again, despite fearing what he might read in the elf’s face. Anders did not expect to see understanding nor compassion there.

The Elf watched the Blonde for a moment, strangly reminiscent of himself. Fenris looked away once again, like he had so often this evening.

"I never told you why I fled. I was on Seheron with Danarius when the Qunari attacked. As his bodyguard it was my duty to bring him safely to the port, and I did although I got badly injured on the way. Danarius boarded the last ship leaving Seheron but he needed to leave me behind as there were no slaves allowed on board" He said, trying to to say as little as possible whilst still making his point clear.

"A group of Fog Warriors, they are feared rebels, fighting Qunari aswell as Tevinters, took me in, treated my wounds and for a few months I saw, what freedom meant. But then Danarius found me again and the Fog Warriors refused to let him take me, so they fought in my defense. Danarius just grinned and commanded me to kill them. So I did.

After they lay there, I somehow snapped and ran away. Not really from Danarius at first. I ran from myself, from what I did..."

Fenris emptied the bottle then put it away. "What a shame, I should have bought more..." Fenris glanced at Anders. "It seems we have more in common that I thought. But back to the beginning. You need to come back. They miss you... and to be honest it is kinda boring without you. If it helps, I can promise you I will put you down if you ever lose control again."

Anders stared at Fenris. He never thought that this man would share such intimate knowledge about his past. That Fenris would tell him, Anders, his darkest secrets. But somehow Anders finaly felt understood. Something none other, not even Hawke had been able to provide. The Mage smiled.

"So you missed me too?"

Fenris sighed. "Only our arguments."

"Ok, if I have your word, I will come back."

"Good. But please, for Makers sake, take a bath! And shave off that stupid beard. You look almost as goofy as Hawke."

Anders laughed the first time in over a month.

#pre-fenders

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for-narry · 7 years

Text

On its Way to Sunrise

Summary: Niall Horan is a single father who works at a shitty gas station and Harry’s the cute professor who comes in for coffee.

Chapter 5/?

Slumped and strung out, Niall struggles to keep his wandering mind focused at the task at hand; counting the beeps coming from the broken vending machine. Really, he didn’t have much to do at three a.m. in a gas station stuck in the middle of nowhere. So, as to not get bored (he didn’t admit it, but thirty minutes into his shift he’d already started to feel extremely bored) he willed himself to count all the beeps from the vending machine in the corner for the next ten minutes. He didn’t have much to do for a few hours now, after midnight only the occasional scragglers came along. After being dropped off by Harry earlier, Niall had settled into his stool, ushered Vicky out the door, even though she insisted she stayed with him for a few minutes longer, and helped the next few customers. But that was hours ago.

Two minutes in and 100 beeps later, Niall gave up his task. Sighing he looked around the gas station looking for something to do, possibly restocking some products or a dusty spot in a corner that must be broomed right away. He came empty handed. Working these shifts were the worst, he hated them, not many people drove by at three a.m. to get gas and those who did, were rowdy crowds a little too drunk to be in public. But he wasn’t going to start complaining now, there was one thing his boss hated and that was complainers.

Turning around in his stool, he looked at the dark screen of his phone which he had placed on the counter after he bid Eoghan a good night sleep and promised to be there when he woke up eight hours ago (“Papa I had so much fun with those kids, Michael and Alaia even invited me to their house next week!”). After staring at the dark screen for a bit too long, the screen brightened and covering Eoghan’s eyes was a white message notification. Squinting a bit and leaning towards it, he didn’t feel the need to pick up the phone, Niall noticed Mary’s name in black.

Sorry I didn’t call tnite…, she texted.

He was surprised, after Mary had gotten a proper job and all, she was in bed at a reasonable time and cut off any communication till the next morning, but here she was texting Niall at three eighteen.

He wasn’t really surprised by the text messages though, Mary always forgot to call on the day she had promised she would, usually she’d shoot him a text about a week later apologizing. Again, there was nothing shocking by the text, albeit he was a bit relieved over the fact that Eoghan had clearly forgotten his mother was supposed to call him, it saved him the extra tears and blubbery statements.

Scoffing to himself, Niall angrily grabbed at his phone and tapped the notification; mary ur shite at this callin bck thing ,, nxt time don’t promise u’ll call . .

Just after sending it, the grey bubble and three dots immediately appeared, mentally preparing himself for a resentful conversation over text. They hadn’t always been like this, the constant arguing that occurred every time they talked (read: rarely) was a new development.

It’s nt my fault, nail l i, smthin cme up.

This was really getting tiring, Niall thought to himself. Something always came up with Mary, something always stopped her from calling back, something always stopped her from visiting Eoghan the few times she was supposed to. Something always got in the way of her actually being around her son.

The irritation that he’d originally felt before Harry had come in, came back in a wave. He felt childish punching in letters onto the screen, the irritation soon developed into anger and Niall couldn’t do much but tap harder on the screen.

smthing alwys comes up???

The three grey dots appeared again, but not waiting for her response he typed quickly a ‘i dnt wnt t do tis rght nw mary,, this is not a convo we shld be hving rght nw.’

The three grey dots appeared, waving around in their grey bubbled mocking Niall with his ignorance of her next text, but after a minute, the grey bubble disappeared.

“Fecking pathetic,” Niall scoffed, placing the phone down on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest he continued in irritation speaking to no one, “Always ends the conversation when it’s getting good.” shaking his head Niall bitterly laughed.

He was getting tired of this, the never-ending fights that they had, the stupid awkwardness that arose every time they spoke if they weren’t fighting, Mary’s fucking lack of trying to meet up Eoghan. He was tired of her excuses… But he get’s it, what more takes your time and steals it from under your grasp then a child--

But Eoghan is Mary’s son, her firstborn, and it may not be with Jonah but Eoghan still matters--

Niall’s bitter thoughts were cut off by the sharp rings of his phone, the screen lit up and Mary’s name popped up in white block letters just over the green and red buttons.

Fighting any urge to not pick up, he answered the call, “So you can find the shitting time to call me but you can’t even keep a promise to Eoghan? What the fuck do you want now Mary?” he spat out angrily. The last thing he wanted to do now was talk to her, especially when he could feel the impending headache starting its banging right at his left temple.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” Mary breathed in sharply.

“Pardon, did my tone offend you? Did me reminding you that you have another son… Annoy you?” Niall said through the phone.

“Just because I missed one phone call? Look Niall, I had a busy day and I don’t need your crap right now--”

Interrupting her, Niall said, “You can’t make time for him? You talk to him twice a month, you seem him even less, and you live an hour away. You can’t spare a single second in your busy schedule to see Eoghan? What the fuck is wrong with you, Eoghan’s your fucking son too.”

“Why should I be the one having to go to you guys?! Why don’t you put some effort and bring him here--”

Chuckling mockingly, Niall rolls his eyes and with hostile quietness he says, “You sound like a fucking cunt--”

Before Niall could finish getting his sentence the bell over the door rang with the entrance of a ruffled Harry, who immediately stopped smiling when he saw the grim expression on Niall’s face.

Interrupting Mary’s angry shouts, calmly Niall said, “Call me when you get your fucking priorities straight, Mary.” and hung up.

“I… Pardon… Do you need something Harry?” Niall asked him, trying to calm down the rapid beating heart.

Clearing his throat, Harry stayed in his spot by the door, with embarrassment he says, “I… I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize you were…? I can- I can leave if you want me--”

Quickly interrupting him, Niall rushingly sat up from his seat, “No! I mean it’s okay… Uhh, nothing’s happening. I just… Do you n-need something?” he asked again.

Breathing out in relief Harry began making his way closer to the counter where Niall was stood, only taking a pause in front of the coffee maker. “Um, truthfully I came to… To get coffee. I just. I was driving home from the… From grading papers when I saw, um, that you were still here so I decided to drop by.”

Briefly glancing at Niall, Harry turned to the coffee machine and said, “I’m… I’m gonna get coffee.”

After an abrupt pause Niall asked, “You were grading papers at three in the morning?”

Even turned away from him, Niall could see Harry’s cheeks heating up.

“I- I may have fallen asleep and woken up a bit ago…”

Not able to control himself, Niall burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Harry exclaimed.

Harry’s on his way out of the petrol station in a bit, coffee in hand and plenty of fatigue to carry him all the way home. Whilst Niall’s left inside of the small store, only accompanied by the humming of the refrigerators and the constant beeping of the vending machine.

Sighing, Niall slouched in his chair and began to count the beeps from the machine once again.

One… Two… ThreeFourFive… Six… Seven…

Six a.m. came barrelling after his conversation with Mary. Stewing in his anger for the next two hours and a half, by the time six am hit, Niall was ready to head home and be with his son. Even if it would be for a bit. In the meantime, Niall gathered his stuff from the back where it was placed, and dropped it by the legs of the stool so at the moment Vicky passed through the door he’d be out in a jiffy.

More customers presented themselves around this time, most were just buying snacks or coffee because the stinking petroleum was enough to ward them off from refilling their tanks in this station. With newfound energy Niall rung up their orders and helped the next customer, trying to get them sorted out in less than a minute. Of course he understood that speeding up wouldn’t do much because he wasn’t allowed to leave the station without Vicky being there. As luck would have it, Niall was stuck manning the register for longer than he wanted, Vicky was once again running late.

After ringing up the last customer, Niall started tapping his fingers impatiently on the countertop, eyes flickering back and forth from the clock on the wall to the dark screen of his telephone.

“I’m here darling! I’m here!” Vicky said as she made her way through the door, the bell chiming after her arrival.

Resisting the urge to rush out of the room, Niall waited until Vicky made her way to the register, she walked slow but with purpose and a smile graced her face. “I’m sure you’re just dying to leave, love. Why don’t you head on out there.” She said kindly, waving to the direction of the door.

Any other time Niall would’ve insisted to stay for a few minutes until Vicky settled into her place, but today he was crawling out of his skin to get far from this place. He was ready to head home and get back to his bed… His son. Niall grabbed his bag and tapped Vicky’s frail left shoulder on his way out. He threw a “thank you!” behind his shoulder before making his way out to the bus stop where he would wait for a while for the bus to appear.

Once it did, Niall thanked up above for all the empty seats inside.

Getting back home was a blur, from exiting the bus to walking back home all faded away into the background because all he could think about was the conversation he had with Mary. Mary, the mother of his son, the woman he learned to love so dearly as a friend, the only woman who understood what Niall had felt and experienced with the birth of Eoghan… When had they gotten so distant from each other?

Thinking back, Niall couldn’t pinpoint a specific date or time, couldn’t remember when she stopped calling, when she started visiting less, it all happened so subtly he couldn’t remember it.

But it had happened and now they’re stuck in a loop of arguments that always went the same way and resulted in the sames ways. They wouldn’t talk for a few weeks, and then Mary would call again, and somehow they’d end up arguing about something.

They always do.

Dismissing his thoughts as he arrived at the complex, Niall was greeted with the sight of a tired looking Mrs. Martha waiting beside the front door of his flat, her arms were crossed on her chest once again, “You’ve got a very chatty boy, Niall.” was all she said before patting his arm and walking towards her own apartment.

He shook his head and scoffed, didn’t he know it.

When he entered his apartment, all Niall did was drop his bag and coat on the knob of the door and trudged towards the kitchen to prepare himself some tea.

There was no point in going for a nap when in a few minutes he’d have to get Eoghan up and ready for school.

He could feel the weight of sleepless nights slam down on his shoulders. All he wanted to do right now was cuddle up in his bed and sleep for long.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

The sound of the shrilling kettle woke him from his trance, he took a travel mug from inside the peeling cupboard and prepared himself some tea. “Here goes nothing.” He said to himself.

Eoghan was good to him this morning, seeing his Papa looking worn down was enough indication that this morning was not for playing around. He got up from bed without a fuss, getting up and ready without needing his Papa to tell him twice and even whilst he struggled to tie his shoe, he powered through it because he didn’t want Papa to be any more tired than he already was.

Eoghan settled himself up on the chair at the table and placed his hands on the top, “Papa can I have cereal today?” he asked, knowing that cereal was something easy to make and wouldn’t cause Papa any worry or trouble. He smiled up at his Papa who turned to him with a look of surprise and bewilderment when he said what he wanted.

Squinting his eyes, Niall asked the seven year old, “You sure you want that bud? I know you like eggs on toast better.” he could already tell what Eoghan was trying to do-- and that broke his heart.

Niall put the travel mug down and walked towards Eoghan, placing his arms around his son he said, “Buddy you don’t have to worry about me. If you want eggs on toast I’ll make it for you… I’m find O, just a bit tired, but that’s not something you have to worry about, okay?” he rubbed his hands over Eoghan back and closed his eyes.

This wasn’t what he wanted. He never wanted Eoghan, his seven year old, to worry about him. That’s why he always tried to put a front. To avoid something like this! A seven year old shouldn’t be worrying about his parent’s, not like this, not ever.

Feeling tears well up in his already bloodshot eyes, Niall blinked repetitively willing the tears away. “Baby don’t you ever worry about me.” he said hoarsely.

Niall crouched down to Eoghan’s stature and pressed his lips on his forehead.

“Okay Papa.” Eoghan said quietly.

The rest of the morning went without a hitch (and Eoghan had his eggs on toast).

Niall didn’t let himself fawn over this morning, knowing that if started thinking about this morning he’d never stop, and he didn’t want to beat himself up today. He wasn’t in the mood for self-pity and wallowing. Instead, he dropped Eoghan off with a brief hug and a promise that they’d go out for ice cream in the afternoon (“promise we’ll have ice cream?” Eoghan had asked. “I pinky promise.” Niall responded and then hooked their pinkies together.), his son deserved it anyways.

On the way up the stairs, Niall would take pauses to scroll through his phone, checking if any of his professors had put up the grades for his final exams. This was his last year and all he was taking was three classes, the only thing he needed now was to pass them and he’d finally be finished with school.

And maybe I’ll be able to get a better job.

Niall stopped once again on the bottom of the steps of the third floor, balancing the empty travel mug under his armpits he unlocked his phone once again with shaky hands to reload the empty page. For a second Niall cursed his stupid mobile for being so slow when finally the page appeared.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Niall whispered to himself.

There, on the page, was his first final grade.

An A-

“What’cha looking at?” Niall was pulled out of his excitement when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. Slightly jumping in fright, he turned to the incoming stranger.

Not a stranger at all, because there stood Harry again with his hands behind his back and a pearly white-smile.

“Jesus you scared me Harry!” Niall exclaimed.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, “You could’ve given me a heart-attack.” Niall said, biting back a smile.

In the midst of his laughter, Harry managed to spit out a, “Sorry! You were just so focused on your phone!” it took him a while to calm down, but once he did, Harry cleared his throat and tried to keep himself from laughing again once he saw Niall’s unamused expression.

He cleared his throat again and said, “Uh… Hello and good morning.” with a bright smile.

Niall rolled his eyes and cracked a small smile, “Good morning to you too. What is it you’re doing here again?”

“I am here to visit my grandmother, actually, for tea.” Harry said, and a second later added, “Would you like to come with? I’m sure my grandmother would love to see you again.” pointing to the top of the stairs.

Shaking his head, Niall said, “Thanks but I’m just going to go home and get some rest… It’s uh.. It’s been a long night.”

“Very well then,” Harry said, “I’ll just accompany you up the stairs.”

As they both walked up the cramped set of stairs in silence, Niall tried to walk up without constantly bumping into Harry. There’s only so much space at the staircase with two grown men walking side-by-side.

Once they made it up to the sixth floor, Niall slowed his walk as they approached his apartment door.

“I guess I’ll see you later then.” Niall said.

Harry nodded his head and waited until the blond man had unlocked his door (not after struggling for a few seconds) before saying, “Wait! Um… Actually I was wondering if I could, um, get your number… You know… Since, uh… You seem like a good guy and… Um--”

Hearing Harry stumble his way through an explanation, Niall spared him and held out his hand, “I… I’ll put my number in your phone.”

Surprised at the comment, Harry fumbled to get his phone out. Unlocking it haphazardly and then placed it on Niall’s awaiting hand.

With the phone in hand Niall typed in his number quickly and then returned it back to him, “Have a good day Harry.” he said before walking into his apartment and leaving Harry outside with a content smile slowly crawling onto an expression

Niall could feel the jitters working their way through his body, his hands shook as he turned the knob and his tummy fluttered with nerves that he hadn’t felt since he fancied his first ever girlfriend. Trying to ignore the feeling of excitement making its way present, he bit down on his lip to stop the smile and shook his head.

He’d only given his number to Harry, that’s it, nothing really to get excited about for God’s sake Niall, he thought to himself. Ridding his thoughts of Harry Niall gazed around the room and grunted in displeasure. The sight of his flat looking dirty and cluttered all at once reminded him of how long it’s been since he properly cleaned the house instead of just shoving things under the table and into the closet.

The floor was covered in random socks with no same pair next to it and toys that Eoghan loved to pick up and later put down on the same place he found them.

Walking down the hall, he pushed the toys Eoghan had neglected to put away and went into his room to get the cleaning supplies out.

He had a long day ahead.

By the time mid-day approached, Niall had managed to clean up the living room and kitchen, leaving spotless floors and counters, as well as organized shelves and toys out of sight. He was feeling much better with having accomplished most of the cleaning before having to go pick up Eoghan.

Niall was about to get started on cleaning the bathroom, something he was not looking forward to, when the silence of the room was cut by the sound of Niall’s shrill ringtone, his mobile shook violently inside of his pocket.. (He was really getting annoyed by the ringtone)

“Hello?” He said whilst walking into the bathroom. He had about an hour before he needed to leave the apartment to get to the bus stop in time to go pickup Eoghan, and he’d at least like to get the bathroom done before picking his son up.

“Oh good, you picked up. Hello Niall!” And on the other side was his wonderful father, Bobby.

“Hey, Da, what’s up? Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.” Niall said as he started to scrub the toilet.

“I was thinking earlier about you and realized it’s been awhile since we’ve chatted, let alone seen each other. How’ve you been, huh? What about Eoghan? Is he there with you?”

“We’ve been great Da. Eoghan’s in school right now and I’m just getting some cleaning done but I’m leaving soon to pick him up. He’s been well, he was a bit under the weather earlier this week but he’s much better now. How’ve you been Da?”

After scrubbing the toilet, Niall stood up from his knees and moved on to the next task. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the scent of cleaning supplies was kind of nice.

“Oh I’m doing well. I saw Greg and Theo a few days ago, he’s growing up so fast you know? Oh Niall, son, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you and Eoghan. When can you come over? Maura mentioned that he hasn’t seen you either.” His voice grew faint and began to sound upset.

Niall stopped what he was doing and looked down at his socked feet. It had been a long time since he’s seen his parents. He hated when his mother mentioned how long it’s been, it always served to remind him that he would never be able to afford taking the time off to visit his family, or even go on a holiday.

Missing work for more than a day was not something Niall was looking to do. Every pay meant stability for the two of them.

And of course he wanted to see his parent’s, of course he wanted to see his nephew again, Niall had always been a family man and it killed him to be so far away from them (even though the last time he’d seen them Maura had all but boasted on Greg’s “incredible” life choices of waiting to get married to have a kid, but that was besides the point). But he couldn’t, not now, not when he was barely surviving paying all the bills on time.

Softly Niall said, “Da… You know I’d like to go, but… I can’t now. I’m too busy now, a lot is going on in our lives and… You know I’d love to see you guys again.”

Bobby sighed through the other end and said, “I know Nialler.”

Feeling the weight of Bobby’s words guilt him down, Niall sat on the edge of the tub, and said, “I’m sorry Da.”

“No worries, son. I know how it is. You know… I- I just… Miss you both, that’s all. But don’t worry. Christmas is coming up, maybe I’ll be able to pay you guys a visit, huh?” Bobby said, ever the optimist.

Niall nodded his head, “Yeah.” although he wouldn’t be surprised if his father didn’t come to visit, the old man could barely stand to miss a day of work.

After a pause Bobby added, “Well, I’ll leave you to the cleaning. Tell Eoghan I said hi.”

“Sure will Pa. Talk to you later.” He said before clicking off.

And he was left to wallow and stew in silence, on his lonesome.

It was time to pick Eoghan up.

a/n: sorry for the long wait. this isn’t my best but I hope you still enjoyed it. thank you and feedback is much appreciated. x

#narry #marry storan #narry fic #until next time #narry fanfiction #professor harry #kid fic #narry au #narry storan

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