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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Silent IV

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: John Tracy, Scott Tracy

Part 4 of my response to @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Taste challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Answering reader’s questions? Only halfway through a fic? More likely than you think.

Sleep didn’t come easily for John. It never had done, not even before last weekend, but now he couldn’t sleep at all until he knew all his brothers were safe in their rooms. That indicator was Scott; until Scott came into their room and settled down in bed, John could be sure that at least one brother was still up. As Scott would never go to bed until Virgil and Gordon were settled in the room next door, and Alan was asleep in his own bed, dragged in to their room almost as soon as they’d got home, his eventual stumble into bed was the sign John needed that the others were all as okay as they could be right now.

Even the stars had abandoned him. Sat in the window, a favourite seat of his, with a neglected book in his lap, there were no pinpricks of light shining through the darkness. Clouds had stayed gathered ever since the avalanche, blocking out both the sun and the stars. Somewhere beyond them was Dad, on a mission to the moon. John wondered if he knew, yet. Grandma had said she’d contact the space agency, but communications from Earth to the moon were difficult. It had always been a sore point between the older boys and their father – off again for months, two year old Alan barely knew who his Daddy was – but now it was a gaping wound. John had always been fascinated by space, but he swore he wouldn’t go until he knew he could keep in contact with his family. Always.

Equally as difficult as getting a message to the moon, apparently, was trying to travel when so snowed under even the cars couldn’t move, and planes refused to fly. There was no snow here, and if John never saw a snowflake again it would be too soon, but Grandma’s state was snowed in. Grandma was adamant that she’d find her way to them soon, and John knew she was doing everything she could to move in with them, but it felt as though the world itself was conspiring against them. Every day that passed, Scott lived in greater and greater fear of uninvited visitors arriving on their doorstep. John refused to admit it to anyone except himself, but he did, too.

Alan snuffled in the corner, clutching his newly inherited but tatty and old teddy bear close in sleep. The two year old didn’t understand what was going on, and John and Scott were both painfully aware that he was the most likely to bring the uninvited guests to their door with an innocent comment. From the conversation he’d heard when they’d got home, something Alan had said on the way home from playgroup had been too close for Scott’s comfort today.

Scott hadn’t been himself, either. None of them were themselves, Gordon retreating into himself, Virgil pretending everything was fine but flinching at every reminder of Mom with tears in his eyes. John wasn’t even sure what had happened to him; he could barely remember what life had been like before the avalanche now. Life and responsibility had ganged up on him and Scott all at once and now any free time he might have had was taken up with cooking and cleaning while Scott handled their younger brothers. But John didn’t think all that – Mom’s death, new responsibilities, three brothers in need of assurance and a sense of normality where there was none to be had – was the all that was preying on Scott’s mind. Not after Alan’s loud complaints about Scott being stinky and Scott’s perfectly reasonable explanation. Perfectly reasonable, except for one thing.

Scott didn’t have gym on Wednesdays. John knew his brother’s timetable, even if Scott didn’t know that. No gym on Wednesdays, just after-school basketball he’d quit at the start of the week.

Whatever had driven him to empty an entire can of deodorant over himself, it wasn’t gym, and John highly doubted it was an accident, either. But he knew Scott wouldn’t talk to him about it, even though his eyes had been red when he’d come out of his too-long shower and he’d caught the smallest glimpse of something dark on his arm when his sleeve had ridden up during dinner. Alan had jumped at him from his chair after they’d eaten, as per usual, and normally Scott could catch him with ease. This time, there’d been the flicker of pain as Alan had collided with him, before he’d covered it up with some light-hearted scolding for being reckless.

John didn’t like the theory forming in his mind, and knew that tonight he wouldn’t sleep until he put it to rest, one way or the other.

It was midnight by the time Scott stumbled into the room, assuring him that Virgil and Gordon were both asleep and put that book away and go to bed now, John. John hadn’t turned a page all evening, but dutifully obeyed, placing the bookmark back in the same place he’d retrieved it from hours earlier and setting the book on the bedside table before sliding underneath his covers and closing his eyes.

Waiting.

He heard Scott pad over lightly to check on Alan, making sure he really was asleep, before his big brother finally shuffled into bed himself, turning the lights off. He’d shared a room with Scott for years, knew how his breathing shifted as he fell asleep. The shift happened, and he counted the minutes in his head. Five of them, and then he couldn’t wait any more, the burning need to know slipping him out of bed, palming his under-the-covers reading light (a present from Scott, two years ago, after he’d got fed up of John insisting on having a light on to read when he just wanted to sleep; Mom had laughed and told him he still wasn’t allowed to read all night) from under his pillow and slipping across the room to Scott’s bed.

Scott was a light sleeper, and John shouldn’t be doing this, but he needed to know. The comforter folded back easily, and holding his breath John reached for the hem of his brother’s top, lifting it up just enough to see his fears realised.

Mottled bruising splattered across his torso, deeper and darker in some places than others. It was painfully familiar – John had had the same, last year, until Scott found him out in a similar way and dragged names out of a tearful eleven year old in the middle of the night. They’d both been in the same school then; Scott had made it perfectly clear the next day that anyone who so much as touched a hair on any of his brothers’ heads would be dealing with him and his friends, who would be delighted to return it with interest.

John didn’t have bruises any more, but now Scott had moved up into the world of high school and there was no big brother to make fearless challenges on his behalf.

A hand caught his wrist.

“Go back to bed,” Scott said flatly, tugging at his arm lightly until he let go. The fabric fluttered back down, hiding the incriminating evidence again.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” John asked instead, keeping his voice down. The last thing they needed was for any of their brothers to wake, especially Alan.

Scott scoffed, but John’s reading light caught pain in his eyes.

“Tell who?” he demanded, sitting up and wincing as he did so. John didn’t think it was a good thing that Scott hadn’t even attempted denial first. Scott always denied it when things were wrong and he wasn’t okay. Then again, none of them were okay. None of them would be okay for a long time. “A teacher? They’d just try to call Mom, and when they don’t get through they’ll be breaking down the goddamn door. Grandma? She can’t get here any damn faster. Dad? He’s not even on the fucking planet!”

“Shhh!” John hissed as his voice get louder. A sleepy snuffle came from the corner of the room, and they both froze. It was several long minutes of silence before they relaxed, assured that Alan hadn’t woken up after all. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He knew why. It was the same reason he wouldn’t tell a teacher, wouldn’t risk any adults realising that there was a family of five children living without a single guardian in the state. Scott had been trying to protect him, projecting an air of invulnerable big brother so John would relax and forget the very real fear social services might catch a whiff of abandoned children.

Scott wouldn’t admit that, of course.

“What could you do about it?” he demanded instead, remembering this time to keep his voice down. “We don’t even go to the same school, and even if we did, we can’t draw attention to ourselves!”

“I can handle Alan so he’s not kicking you in your already busted ribs whenever you pick him up,” John retorted. “I can cover for you while you get pain killers. Just because I can’t help you outside doesn’t mean I can’t help you at home, Scott.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Scott protested, and John rolled his eyes.

“I’m offering,” he pointed out. “You have taken some pain killers, right?”

“How do you think I got all of two seconds sleep before a pesky little brother stripped my bedclothes?” Scott grouched. “Yes, I took some tylenol when I was in the shower.”

“Cold compress?” John asked, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Right little rescue scout you are, huh,” he grumbled. He knew as well as John they’d had a first aid session only two meetings ago. It felt like two lifetimes ago. “Shower.” John reached for his top again, only to get batted away. “It’s fine, John. Stop fussing and go back to bed.”

John scowled at him.

“We talk about this now, or we talk about this at breakfast with Virgil, Gordon and Alan listening in,” he promised. From the flash of anger in blue eyes, it was only the fact that Alan was sleeping in the same room that restrained Scott from exploding at him.

“What’s there to talk about?” he ground out instead.

“Who.” John stated. “How long. Why now.” The glare he got promised retribution later, but less than a week ago John had watched a wall of snow crush a skiing hut with his mother inside. Maybe Scott’s glares would be scary again one day, but their ski trip from hell was still too raw.

“You don’t know them,” Scott muttered after a moment, and John knew he wouldn’t have caved if he wasn’t also raw from the loss of their Mom, and the responsibility crushing his shoulders. “I thought they were my friends, until yesterday. Apparently they only liked me because the team kept winning whenever I played.”

“They’re beating you up because you quit the team?” John wished he was surprised, but while sport had never been his thing, enough of his schoolmates were sport-mad that he could see them doing exactly that. Scott didn’t answer, but his eyes gleamed with tears in the faint light.

It made John angry. Who measured friendship by how successful someone was at a sport? Who dropped their friend right when they were needed most? Even if they didn’t know what was wrong, surely a friend would accept a change in hobbies?

He might not know them, but these unknown so-called friends of Scott were going to go down. How dare they make his brother cry?

The tears Scott turned his head away to hide could have just been grief about their Mom, but given the context of their conversation, John knew better. It was also the sting of betrayal, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Scott,” he said, muscling his way onto his brother’s bed and tugging gently but determinedly on his wrist until he caved and lay down. “As soon as Grandma’s here, you have to tell her.”

Stony silence greeted him, and he pulled the comforter over the pair of them, nudging insistently at Scott until he had enough room to be comfortable. “If you don’t, I will.”

“Don’t you dare,” Scott lashed back, rolling on his side to face away from John. “Get out of my bed.”

“You didn’t let me suffer in silence,” John reminded him, staying where he was. He wasn’t as clingy as his brothers, but right now he didn’t want his own bed. “You’re right, even when we do have a guardian here, I can’t stand in front of you and threaten everyone that wants to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let it happen. Grandma will do something.”

“Grandma has the four of you to worry about,” Scott mumbled, and John rolled his eyes. Whoever said older was wiser had clearly never met his older brother.

“Grandma has five grandsons and she’ll worry about us all,” he reminded him. “She’ll find out somehow, even if we don’t say anything. You know she will, and then she’ll be sad you didn’t tell her straight away.”

Scott groaned in defeat, then rolled back over with another, pained, groan. How long did Tylenol last?

“I know,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves. “I know.”

John shuffled a little closer, pressing their shoulders together. Once they got bigger – Scott was already hitting a growth spurt – they wouldn’t be able to fit easily on the same bed, but for now, they both fit well enough side-by-side. After a moment, Scott’s head rested against his on the pillow, and fingers tangled with his own where their arms were pressed together.

“We’ll survive,” Scott muttered, squeezing lightly. John nodded, and squeezed back. “Grandma will be here soon.”

It was both a promise and a plea.

Part V

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #silent

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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So hey guys, I really really really need help paying my insurance premiums this month. My premiums are $787, because I got this insurance specifically to make the surgery I need even possible at all, and I literally can not do it without it.

After two years of dealing with my health situation which pretty much makes life fucking unbearable and leaves me functional like maybe five to six hours a day (chronic pain, two year long headache that never goes away, vertigo that makes driving impossible and walking hard, random bouts of my vision totally whiting out, jaw that hangs at 45 degrees, is hellishly unnaturally uncomfortable, and so much trouble sleeping with it I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in two years, etc), I FINALLY have a timetable for the surgery that will fix my issues completely. I just have to make it three more weeks til then, but in the meanwhile I am flat completely broke. The surgery is $24,800 in total. My insurance is paying $10,000 and I managed to come up with the other $12,400 between taking out a personal loan, raising my credit card limits and basically funneling every single thing I had towards that.....

But that means now I have literally nothing left, that took everything I had and then some. And it will all mean absolutely nothing if I can’t pay my insurance for next month and I lose it. I won’t be able to do the surgery if that happens. Flat out, no way around it. And everything I’ve spent the last two years hanging in there and working towards will put me back to square one, IF that. And I can’t do that again. Ive barely lasted this long, it gets worse and worse every day, and a setback of this magnitude.

Yeah. I just REALLY need to be able to pay my insurance and keep a roof over my head for three more weeks. The motel I’m living out of right now is $90 a night, I only have ten bucks on me as of now to go towards today’s rent and he’s already looking for it, lol. So. I really need help guys, for what hopefully will be the last month I have to do this before I can get my old quality of life back and have SO many more options for work and affordable housing and transportation again. I just flat out can not make it there on my own, I’m completely tapped out. I’m exhausted and spent and I barely manage a few hours a sleep a night cuz of the pain sitch and the fact that I’ve pretty much plateaued on every increasingly more potent painkiller they’ve put me on and they just barely do shit anymore, lol.

I know this is a lot, I know you all already give so much to so many, but I have to ask, so please if you have ANYTHING you can send at all, anything helps. Three more weeks. This has been my day to day life for almost two years and I only need to hang in there three more weeks. Please please please help me make that happen if you can, even if its just my reblogging! You will be saving my life and helping to ensure that the money people have already sent my way throughout the past six months will not be in vain and I will be forever grateful.

I really truly honestly just want to be able to have a day without pain again, it has been so long since I didn’t have to think through every move I make so I don’t jostle my jaw and get what feels like an ice pick jabbing through my skull, when I’m just trying to go to the bathroom, lol. Thank you so so much, and again, I totally understand if you can’t afford to send anything, but if you could PLEASE just signal boost this and help it get in front of someone who maybe can, that can still make ALL the difference in the world. Thank you again guys for everything!

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

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swordshade · 4 years

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Probably going to fail two college classes due to executive dysfunction and cumulative stress keeping me from completing two major assignments that make up 20+% of the grade. Advisor and counselors tell me just to pick one and focus but if i could do that they'd have been done weeks ago when they were assigned. Now ive got less than a day.

Guaranteed to fail a third due to professor refusing to actually teach the class and treating all students like morons. Disability office says this happens to everyone who uses their services that takes the class and a large percentage of "normal" students but they still cant do anything but offer extended test time.

Between a behavioural report for getting fed up with her bullshit and only completing two classes satisfactorily i dont know what my future at the school is going to look like.

At the bare minimum ifs going to impact my financial aid. The out of pocket cost im not even paying for because i haven't been able to work. Don't think I can do both and school if this is what just school is going to be like. My Grandma has been basically paying for all my expences and my car lone and I feel like a parasite no matter how much she says it doesn't bother her.

Even if I was comfortable with that I know its not sustainable. I went from two parents and four grandparents to one of each in just 8 years and i feel like everyone else I know or care about is on a short timer. She's fine now but so were half the others until they suddenly weren't

Feel like more shit for even thinking about that in terms of finances with how devastating it would be to me and my family emotionally.

Even I get though school i don't know if it will be worth it because I cycled through 5 jons in two years before this and was some combination of overworked, underpaid, generally mistreated pr fired after one mistake at all of them. Dont know if a degree will make any difference besides adding more debt.

Most recent death left family with two houses and net negative funds so I have to add moving with an uncertain timetable to everything else.

Greatly reduced contact with friends due to schedules, workload, and pandemic precautions.

Even if I got all my personal shit sorted the rest of the world continues to get worse because humans refuse to treat each other like humans and anyone with enough money or government power to change anything only wants more mony and government power.

Cant even properly distract myself with media because I feel guilty for ignoring other things and constantly worry someone that made it is abusive to the rest of the staff or otherwise slimey scum, or I already know one or more of them are and feel guilty they profit off it no matter how many other decent people worked on it (not to mention publishers who are all megacorp scum)

I just want everything to stop. Not forever. Not to die. I just want a few months to breathe.

#long post #depression

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faerieghos-t · 4 years

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Blood Tastes Like Water

The summer before your sixth year at Hogwarts had been doused in grief. Cold and miserable and utterly unshakable, you wonder whether you will ever find salvation. Draco Malfoy is caught in his own silent battle of wills. He doesn't know if he is strong enough. A diary, a secret chamber, and a mysterious dark-haired boy will bring into question all you thought you knew about the world. A tale of trust and betrayal; hurting and healing. "No matter how much we want it....some stories just don't have a happy ending."

*****

The train ride back to Hogwarts was, like the summer before it, tainted with an infrangible sadness. Since Sirius’ death nothing had quite felt real. It was as though you were a spectator - your head two feet away from your body, watching people and things and days pass you by with no end in sight. The holiday had been mostly spent in your bedroom, each day somewhere between wailing for the mercy of some- any -God, and a hollowness that you couldn’t shake away. Your exceptional OWLs results qualified you for some advanced classes this year, and the relief you felt when you had opened the letter confirming this stemmed undoubtedly from the quiet gratitude that maybe you would be busy enough to forget. Forget. That word seemed almost impossible. Dangling just out of your reach, begging you to overstretch for it and topple into oblivion. How could you possibly forget? Forget the screams and the flashes and the blistering white hot agony that choked you when Sirius fell through the veil. Tears pricked your eyes and shook you back to reality. You were alone in the carriage save for two first years comparing the sweets they had bought earlier in the journey. Outside the window, the sky was finally beginning to darken from the warm September glow into a wan purple: the hue beneath a sleepless eye - often, lately, your own. The colour washed the barely-visible Hogwarts in a sickly light, as though it, too, felt the hum of evil in the air.

The Great Hall was bright and warm and abuzz with a hundred different conversations all at once. To your left, Ron was speaking incoherently through a mouthful of jelly, ignorant of Hermione’s disdain that he was - “eating when your best friend is missing!” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this; you loved Hermione, you did, but there were moments she could be a little overbearing. Besides, her concern was unnecessary, because Harry came stumbling through the large oak doors several seconds later. He was covered in blood. Your subconscious drifted back to that day - those events now flicking through your mind like a photo album. “What happened to you?” Someone further down the table asked him; he shrugged it off. Conversation resumed, and continued in a sluggish, reluctant recount of summer exploits until Dumbledore cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

There was some calm, quiet energy about Dumbledore - one you could never totally put your finger on - that seemed all-knowing yet totally intrigued. Nobody doubted his abilities as a headmaster (at least, nobody with whom you chose to associate), but his ability to hold and maintain the full attention of every person in a room was a singular marvel. The usual formalities of his yearly speech barely registered in your mind, and you weren’t fully paying attention, picking at your finger nails until his utterance that “Professor Snape will be filling the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” It had been something of a running joke among your peers that Defence Against the Dark Arts was a post whose inhabitants rarely stayed for long. In your fourth year, Seamus Finnegan had joked that “it’s the most dangerous job in the whole wizarding world.” At the mention of their Head of House, you heard some rowdy cheers erupt from the Slytherin table. Looking over, however, your eye caught a head of icy blond hair, and skin as pale to match. If anyone else’s summer had proven excruciating, it was Malfoy’s. Several rumours had already been circulating that his father was placed in Azkaban for his involvement with the Dark Lord, and it was Harry who, in a letter he sent to you over the holiday, confirmed it to be true. Something had changed about Draco over the summer - his typical scowl of arrogant contempt had been replaced with something sadder. Something hollower. The loneliness in those pale blue eyes could not be disguised by his erect carriage and feigned nonchalance. You indulged, briefly, guiltily, in the romantic notion that maybe you were two forlorn souls amongst a sea of blissful idiots. It was when his eyes locked on you, mouth already twisted back into that disdainful snarl, that you remembered. Draco Malfoy did not care about you, or your sadness, or your foolish romantic indulgences. Draco Malfoy did not play nice.

You were ushered back to the Gryffindor common room, the hallway a cacophony of first years’ exclamations at the stairs - even you had to admit, there was some residual excitement as the heavy stone rumbled beneath your feet - and merry exultations from the paintings, welcoming every student back for another year at Hogwarts. Outside the Gryffindor common room - as was annual tradition - the students huddled around the entryway to hear the fat lady proclaim the password, to be used right until school ended in July. “Welcome back, my lovelies!” She sang. “Keep your ears peeled children; I will say the password once and only once.” A hush fell. One year, Fred and George managed to hex the doorway so that, while the password was Grindylow, the painting would only swing open at the merry exclamation of “I’m in love with Professor Snape.” It was a grand success for about a week before someone - their brother, Percy, they had speculated - reported them to McGonagall. Gryffindor did not win the house cup that year. “Anagnorisis!” Pulled you from your reverie. It was a word you were unfamiliar with. Hermione, however, wasn’t, and as you filed into the common room, she began explaining its literary significance to any unfortunate souls who happened to be in her vicinity.

You spent very little time in the common room that evening, choosing instead to unpack all your things and place them meticulously neatly in your drawers. Having already been given your timetable - free periods reduced from nine to a pitiful two thanks to the advanced potions and arithmancy classes bulking up your busy schedule - you plucked tomorrow’s books from your suitcase, throwing the rest into the bottom drawer, beneath your clothes. Afterwards, there was nothing much to do but lay on your bed for an hour or so before the others began trickling in. The events of the evening, arriving back at Hogwarts had distracted your heavy head for a while. Now, though, the dull ache of sorrow set its way back in. Maybe it was selfish of you, to be grieving so bitterly over Sirius - Harry’s godfather, and a man you hardly knew before last year - but you couldn’t help yourself. In a way, the secret pain almost felt thrilling, as though in some hedonistic way you finally had a reason to look at the world through somber, sober eyes. Your wandering mind found its way back to Draco, sitting alone - though surrounded by his peers - in the Great Hall. It had been strange, catching him in a moment of doubt - so much so that you wondered whether you really even had. Either way, it was a reminder that - no matter how hard the Ministry tried to hide it, no matter how innocent and oblivious the new students, no matter how desperately you wanted it to go away - something dark was on the horizon, and you could not shake it away.

*****

I hope you enjoyed my first foray into fanfiction (entirely inspired by the fact HP has been dominating my tiktok for you page) Ive got a brief outline for this story, but updates may be few & far between any/all feedback is welcome :)

PS here are thinks to this story on my wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/959623615-blood-tastes-like-water-chapter-one

and my ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700265/chapters/65129323

#hogwarts #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x reader #Draco x you #tom riddle #tom riddle x you #reader #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy imagine #imagine

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the-sappho-of-lesbos · 6 years

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#rambles #my classes start in a couple days and I hate it #i really dont want to go #i was so happy to finish high school last year because i thought things would get better #but alas no #im still stupidly shy and unable to make friends #so im still that loser who sits by herself with her nose shoved in a book #and catching the train so early is reslly draining #im pretty sure all my teachers hate me because im always sick and crying #argh #it sure is lonely there #and because of the new timetable my classes are more spread out which means i have to go there even more #im just glad i got accepted into the second part of my online course #hopefully that will keep my going #i just want to give up most the time #i mean everyone already thinks im a failure and making jokes about how little ive done #even my little brother makes fun of me #it is hard to stay posivtie #but ill give it my best shot #at least I have some cute clothes ti wear #lol

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imagines-mha · 5 years

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I've been hOLDING THIS ONE BACK FOR A WHILE EVER SINCE I SAW THAT SHIN CALLED HARI HIS HUSBAND IN ONE OF YOUR DELIVERIES S O; HariShin marriage proposal, extra points if either of them (or both) break into tears from overflowing joy - headcanons or writing, please, my heart needs it -Lion anon

THIS IS THE BEST REQUEST IVE EVER GOT WTF THANK YOU SO MUCH MY SON!!! HOPE U ENJOY 💕💫💕💫

Thursday, August 8th

The day was a panther. It prowled up behind him and pounced whenever it was least expected to.

He couldn’t believe tonight was the night. Was it really August already? Surely it couldn’t be....it still felt like April was barely on the horizons, let alone August!

He wanted this day to come as fast as possible, and every passing hour since he decided this would be the day, he itched it would speed up. Now that it was here however, he had an inkling his wish had come true...because time with his lover sped by so damn quickly, suddenly it was August 8th.

The day Shin Nemoto would propose to Hari Kurono

He was more than excited, to say the least. Tonight he would be engaged, after all. What wasn’t there to be excited about? Especially since he was going to be engaged to the man who made him whole, who made him happy, who made him him

Honestly he prided himself more than a man of his age and stature should have, but he very seldom cared. Everyone had thought Hari would be the first to propose (and had placed copious amounts of bets on it, thanks to Sakaki)

How could he blame them though? Hari was the more romantic one: the one who always held his hand, showered him with fluttering compliments and expressed his love like he was in a play

Shin on the other hand, was the mature one- the hardworking, stoic one who expressed a small love rather than a grandiose expansion of it. But he made sure Hari knew how much that small love meant to him

And surely after he proposed, the oversquad would know how serious he truly was about he and Hari

The latter was at work today, going about his daily duties alongside Overhaul as per usual. Shin luckily got the day off, “for being so hardworking” Overhaul stated with a smile, “you deserve it”

He was thankful his boss was on his side for once

He checked the time. 2pm

Thankfully his mind was logical and worked in a system that had a perfect timetable for everything. Hari was home at 6pm. He had 4 hours to clean, shower and make dinner. Hari often took approximately 45 minutes to prepare himself for the night, so dinner should be ready at around 6:50pm. Then, by at least 7:30pm- he would be an engaged man

Shin felt like he was keeping a secret, and it was one he couldn’t wait to share with the love of his life

////////////

5:37pm

Shin was sat on the couch, speech in hand. It had been memorised for months now, but still he spent the remaining minutes correcting any grammar mistakes (which he knew he didn’t need to do, but it helped him forget about the nerves)

With every second more nerves rose in his body. They made his heart race and his stomach do frontflips, and he wasn’t used to feeling all this emotion at once- so he didn’t know how to handle it. He focused on breathing straight, and made his way into the kitchen to finish up dinner.

The nerves couldn’t hurt him, he felt them before on his first date with Hari... he would get over them

After hiding his fears in cooking for a bit, he felt himself calm, thankfully- and he didn’t even notice the time, or hear the click of the door when it opened

“I’m hoo-ooomeee!” The adorable singsong voice of Hari sounded through, and soon his silhouette came into view

There he stood: His happiness. His Hari. His other half. His future.

And he had no idea what was coming to him...

After a quick kiss on the cheek and a small moment of love shared between the two, Hari excused himself to get ready for dinner

That gave Shin all the time in the world to ensure everything was perfect. He had the ring in one pocket, the speech in his other, the house spotless and the dinner ready to be served.

All that was left was the big moment...

////////////

7:12pm

Shin knew he was stalling. He and Hari were sat at their table for two, laughing about their days as per usual. Today, Hari was sharing a typically funny story about Tengai and Hoji, which created laughter throughout the small home

He waited until Hari was finished, the nerves kicking in like a timebomb. Thankfully, he was sat down, because his knees were weak. His palms were sweaty, face paling, and heart pumping

Luckily he hid it well through his exterior, and waited until he physically couldn’t anymore. The speech was ready to be read. The ring was pleading to be presented. His heart was craving to be claimed

“I love you, Hari-“ he began with a soft smile and vulnerable eyes, and watched as his partner chuckled

“That was random-“ he grinned, resting on a palm, “has someone gotten soft?”

“Hush, you know you’ve made me soft from the moment i met you-“

“That i do know, but hey?” Hari prompted, and Shin tilted his head

“I love you too-“ he puckered his lips playfully, an act than Shin knew all too well. He leant over the table and kissed him quickly and the smaller male grinned in response

“I can’t believe you’ve made a man so cold and emotionless turn into someone who gets excited in the mornings just to feel your warmth” Shin continued his speech and Hari only blushed with a smile, reaching down to intertwhine their fingers

“I always dreamt of living life alone.... working for Overhaul until i died...i never really had a purpose, did i?” he chuckled, “until i met you...”

“I feel the same...” Hari commented, and you could see already the glistening in his rounded eyes. He was in love.

“It’s been the greatest thing to find you dear... i thank every single God for giving me another chance at life, and to find love” he nodded, letting his heart pour out with all the sentiments he’s bottled up for so long

“I almost couldn’t imagine a life without you in it by my side....”

“I feel the same-“ Hari reassured, “i want to grow old and die right next to you Shin” he nodded, his serious side coming to head, “there’s no one else i’d rather have...or rather love than you...”

Shin heard Hari’s contribution to his speech, and suddenly it was more of a duet than a speech at all

Now Shin just had to finish the love song

He released Hari’s hand and hoped his knees wouldn’t buckle under the sheer weight of nerves, but he was ready nonetheless

He stood from the chair, then dropped to one knee, “that’s why i want to secure us...”

Before he could say or do anything else, Hari began to cry. He stood up in front of Shin and covered his face, trying to keep his whimpering and sniffles low while he held onto Shin’s every word

“You’ve made me a new person...i was so empty without you by my side and i...” he stopped to gulp, suddenly feeling a hot tear slide down his cheek. He didn’t even realise he was crying until then....

“Will you marry me, Hari?” He sniffled, smiling wider than he ever has before as his soulmate wiped his waterfall eyes, nodding with sheer excitement and confirming it with the word ‘yes’ stringing out of his mouth on repeat

Shin took the ring and placed it on Hari’s finger, before getting back to his feet and swooping him up into his arms- both of them still crying tears of utter joy

“I can’t believe you’re crying...” Hari sniffled, kissing his lips for what must have been the 8th time that second

“You make me come undone...” Shin giggled, and kissed Hari back, “i’m so in love with you...”

“And i’m so in love with you...” Hari reiterated, wrapping his arms around his soon-to-be husband

And everything fell into place

#my hero academia #shin x hari #shin nemoto #hari kurono #oversquad #eight precepts of death #shie hassakai

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 5 years

Text

Dreams of Our Past - Chapter 27

*flails around* The chapter is done! It’s the second longest so far and the second half was fighting me until the end. But I prevailed! Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which Gladio invites Ignis to dinner and he finds a dearly missed person because of Iris.

Featuring: Ignis' brand of awkwardness, the starscourge, the tempers of Gladio and Hiemi, Noctis being so very close to a mental breakdown and Somnus and Bahamut being dicks through history

Warning: vomiting, mentioned child murder

Gladio IV

8.5.755 ME

Insomnia, Ghetto

Kingdom of Lucis

The days since their meeting at the Black Saffron had been nerve wrecking and uneventful. It grated on him like nothing else. He had thought, after they had all finally decided – more or less, he was aware enough to admit – on a course of action, things would start to move again. They hadn't. And Gladio didn't like it. At all.

He stood near the door to the pitiful office of Camp No. 5 and watched the people mingling about. More specifically was he watching Prompto, who sat grinning like a loon on a camping bed, a laptop in his lap and... did something while a group of people watched over his shoulder. Gladio really hoped the blond didn't play some kind of game. He was supposed to search through the pictures he had taken over the last few days and upload them on a dummy account by the end of the day.

Here was to hoping the whole crazy plan was going to work. It was a shame Pelna wasn't here right now, but he had finally found the time to talk to his contacts, and had gone to get the ball rolling on that whole facial recognition thing.

It wasn't that things weren't being done, really, it was just that they were moving along so slowly.

Gladio felt like he was treading on the spot, not moving forward no matter how much he wished to. It was frustrating beyond belief.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had fished his phone out of he pocket and weighted it in his hand. It couldn't hurt to call Ignis, making sure the man didn't overwork himself like he was prone to do. Maybe he had managed to find something that would help Gladio figure out what he could be doing in this stinking mess. Not that is was very likely, but a man could hope.

The phone rang once, twice, then a click sounded and a cultured voice drifted through the speaker: “Good morning Gladio. Was there something you needed?”

“Barely morning anymore, Ignis”, the older snorted.

A non-committal hum could be heard. The former advisor could be very peculiar about his greetings. A voice sounded in the background on Ignis' side. It was decidedly feminine, even if Gladio couldn't make out any words.

“Oh no, it's perfectly alright, Miss Aster. I am talking to a friend. Thank you for your wonderful help”, Ignis said.

Gladio couldn't help the grin blooming on his face. “Should I call you later, lover boy?”

Ignis gave an undignified snort. “I am at work, Gladio”, he said, stressing the word work like that was the important part. “Miss Aster is a secretary within the Ministry for Civic Affairs and Immigration. I met her yesterday, when I was looking into how far along they are with evaluating the houses in the Immigration District for damages. Apparently there seems to be a filing issue of some sort. Miss Aster has been looking into it since it came to her attention. She says it goes against her pride to have messy paperwork.”

“Tampering?” Gladio couldn't help but ask.

“Very likely.”

“Damn.”

“Whoever did it was very careful. The papers are listed as filed, they obviously went over all the right desks, but they aren't where they should be. I have never seen this amount of misfiling in my entire life.” Ignis' obvious indignation would be funny, if the situation wasn't so serious. “Mrs. Custodela cannot help us with this. She has her hands already full trying to keep abreast with the camps she is looking over. After this, would you please call Camp 7 for me? Mrs. Custodela has found a plumber who is free and can take a look at their showers.”

Something in the pipes in the showers of Camp 7 had broken and now the water there had turned a muddy brown. It couldn't be very healthy.

“That's good. I'll do that. Anything else?”

“Make sure to note down who is using the vehicles you got provided with, and where they drove and how long it took to get there. Certain people have been making noise about rationing petrol. Records of the use of the vans you have at your disposal would go a long way to work against this”, said Ignis after a few moments of consideration.

Gladio jerked in disbelief. “Rationing petrol? That's bullshit! The oil production in Leide is still under Insomnian control.”

“I know, Gladio. Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck, this whole situation is a stinking mess”, he complained and carded a hand through his hair.

I need a shower, he thought with a grimace. Ignis didn't answer. He didn't need to. Somewhere in the hall a baby started to cry, followed shortly by a second. Gladio sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. He needed to get out of here. At least for an evening. Breath some air that didn't smell of exhaust fumes or like too many sweaty people cramped into a place too small.

“How... how is Iris doing?” Ignis sounded like he wasn't sure at all, if he should even ask.

“She's not doing worse for now”, he choked out, his stomach plummeting like it was suddenly filled with lead.

“Gladio. I am- I'm so sorry.”

That sentence sounded heavy. Full of hidden meanings and implications and Gladio didn't want to hear any of it.

“Don't you dare talk like she's dead already! Because she's still very much alive”, he snapped.

A tightly controlled intake of breath sounded over the speaker. Gladio couldn't muster the will to feel bad about it. Iris wasn't dead and she wouldn't die. He was her older brother and he would protect her, damn it!She was barely fourteen, for Bahamut's sake.

“You are right, Gladio. I apologize”, Ignis said after a maybe too long pause.

“It's alright”, he sighed and deflated.

No, it wasn't alright, not at all. But Ignis was a friend – or had been a friend once – and he didn't deserve this. Pitioss, Iris didn't deserve this most of all. Why ever were the Gods punishing her like that? It had to stop.

He cleared his throat and asked awkwardly: “I'm going back home for the night to spend some time with her. Do you want to come over for dinner? Iris would love to see you again.”

“If you are sure.”

Ignis sounded so high-strung that Gladio just knew he was feeling as awkward as he himself was.

“Don't worry. I wouldn't ask, if I wasn't.”

“Then I will gladly come. Which time would be most convenient?”

“We normally eat around six since Iris gets tired early”, Gladio shrugged.

Ignis hummed in thought. “Five thirty then.”

“Fine by me”, he answered after mentally running through his to-do list again. “Just... be gentle with her, alright?”

“Of course, Gladio”, agreed Ignis. “I need to go back to work.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, of course. I'll see you later.”

“Until later.”

The call disconnected. Gladio listened to the silence of his phone for a few seconds before he sighed and lowered it from his ear to stare at it. Social graces and impulse control. He needed to work on his temper more. But for now he had a few calls to make. First Camp 7 about that plumber and then Jared to tell him that he and Ignis would be there for dinner. He had been trying to come every evening since the earthquake happened, but he hadn't always managed it.

On his first call he managed to reach Libertus who sounded just as grouchy as he had expected the man to be. Gladio had to bite the inside of his cheek as to not snap back. Instead he managed to make his way through the conversation with all the grace of a garula in a china store. Luckily Libertus didn't seem to notice. Something about two feuding Clans in one room, he had heard Crowe and Pelna say.

His second call went a bit better. He could practically hear the retainer smile as he announced his and Ignis' presence for dinner.

Now he could go outside and see how far along Tredd and Crowe were with checking over the newest delivery. Then there would be another round of phone calls between Centres 4 through 8 to see who was lacking what and to pool their resources. After lunch he would write out new timetables for those who had volunteered for various duties around here. And he would need to find someone who had experience with the whole giving birth thing, since one of the women here looked just about ready to pop.

Dinner could have been definitely worse. It had been decidedly awkward, but between Ignis practically doting on Iris within the first few minutes of his arrival and Jared's efforts to keep the conversation flowing, it had been a very pleasant meal. Everything had been fine, Iris had been laughing and moving around more than she had in weeks and Ignis had been sharing recipes with Jared.

He should have known that this wasn't going to last. Nothing good had for a long time now.

The screaming woke Gladio in the middle of the night. It took his sleep addled brain long precious seconds to realize that they were coming from his sister's room. He practically leapt out of bed and ran into her room that thankfully was right next to his. Light spilled into the dark room and for a moment his sister's shadow seemed to froth and seethe, but Gladio ignored it in search of any attackers that he could painfully eviscerate.

No one was there. No one but Iris and him.

Her screaming stopped once she saw him.

“Gladdy”, she whimpered and reached out towards him.

The sleeves of her pyjama slid back and exposed dark splotched on her skin that hadn't been there during dinner. A thin line of blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth. It was black.

“Iris!” he cried and lunged towards her, cradling her small form carefully against his muscled chest.

“Gladdy, it hurts. It hurts so much.”

She grasped weakly at his arms, sobbing. Then she went limp, her breath coming in nothing but weak bursts that ghosted over the naked skin above his collar bone.

“No”, he breathed. Desperation roared in his chest like a wild beast and stole his breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”

What should he do? No doctor or hospital they had visited since she had first gotten sick, had been able to help. There was no one here that could help her.

Oh, by the Gods, she was going to die.

The realization hit him like a slap in the face. His little sister would die before morning came, because there was no one in this damned city that...

Gladio's breath stuttered in his chest when he remembered what the innkeeper of the Black Saffron had said about his son and the woman that had come by during the meeting, when he remembered what that prostitute had told him last week.

Without stopping to consider what a colossally stupid idea this was – he could not afford to think about it, not now when his little sister was dying – he wrapped her blanket tightly around her frail body and lifted her up in his arms. She was so light he barely noticed her weight.

Why was it getting so much worse? Why now, of all times? She had been fine! Or at last not worse than the last time he had taken her to a doctor.

He didn't even stop to get dressed in something other than his sleeping trousers or to put on some shoes, and instead ran right out of the door, into the dark streets of Insomnia. In the privacy of her bed, the prostitute had described to him how he could get to this Healer, if he ever needed to.

Sweat ran down his face and back the further he ran, his breath burned in his lungs, but he didn't dare to stop. He didn't dare to do so as he ran past buildings the earthquake had destroyed, deeper and deeper into the city, through neighbourhoods that were getting more and more run down.

Iris began to shiver, despite the warm summer night. Gladio only tightened his grip and hastened his steps.

Despite the growing lack of functioning street lamps, he could see the great, broken pillar. It rose out of the shadows like a great, stony needle as he hurried past it and then turned left into a narrow alleyway. It didn't take long to reach the other side. It was nearly pitch black now. Only a few weakly glowing lanterns showed him the way, forcing him to slow down, lest he stumble and fall. He found the staircase Viti had talked about through sheer luck. There weren't any handrails, so he had to be extra careful. He did not dare hurry since some of the metal stairs creaked ominously.

Follow the lights, Viti had said, and so he started to run again towards the nearest light he could see. It was a single lantern glowing like a lonely star at the first house on the right. It hung from the ceiling in a room that was entirely open on one side and illuminated a group of chairs, metal drawers and a long table. In a corner there was a part of the wall that looked like it could possibly be a door. He just about kicked it in.

“Hello! I need help!” he bellowed into the darkness of the house, honestly not caring who he might wake.

Not a second later hasty footsteps sounded to his left. It was a teenager, his skin paler than he had ever seen a human being be, with big blue eyes so light they looked white near the pupil. In his hand he carried a lantern, its light cast a cheerful glow on everything it touched.

The teenagers eyes grew even larger when he saw the bundle in Gladio's arms, then his eyes dropped to his feet and back up again.

“My sister needs help”, Gladio repeated, pleading.

That seemed to do the trick, as the teenager gestured towards a staircase with a hasty “Follow me!” and practically leapt up the stairs.

“Healer! Healer wake up! There's an emergency. Quick!”

Gladio followed the teen down the hallway to his right until they came to the last door. Behind it was a small room with a rickety bed, a bedside table, a stool and a chest of drawers. Another lantern, it had been hanging from a hook next to the door, was lit and the teenager motioned for Gladio to lay his sister on the bed before he vanished down the hallway again, calling for Healer.

Now here, where he could finally focus on something other than running, running, running, he noticed he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. His heart beat like a fast paced drum and his breath shuddered with each intake of air.

His gaze settled on Iris. Her skin was a pasty, unhealthy white and the dark splotches had spread up her neck and onto her cheeks. Each laboured breath sounded wet and rattled within her chest. Carefully, as to not hurt her any further, he settled her down on the lumpy mattress of the bed. The frame gave a high pitched sound as her weight was added.

From outside the room he could hear doors opening and closing, sleepy voices were asking questions and hasty steps were making their way towards them. A young man appeared in the doorway. He had clearly just woken up, his startling violet eyes squinting against the light of the lantern and his long black hair a mess that hung in his face.

When the man – he couldn't be older than 20 – saw him he froze. His eyes grew large in surprise and fear, his mouth opened and closed like he was a fish on land. Gladio glowered. If he had only come to stare, he was going to beat him within an inch of his life.

“Help her!” he bellowed.

The man jerked. His gaze fell on Iris and all expression vanished from his face. One moment he stood by the door and the next he was next to the bed, leaning over his sister and looking intently at her gaunt face.

“Casto, get me a bucket and take the bedsheets for winter out of the closet. Go to Hiemi and tell her I need some of her purging tea, and bring me a bowl of hot water and a washrag”, he said with an air that made it clear he was used to be listened to and obeyed.

Not bothering to turn around and see if the teenager was listening – which he did; he ran out of the room like the Infernian himself was after him – the young man started to gently unwrap the blanket. She had grown even paler and the black splotches covered large parts of her visible skin.

Gladio would love to ask who this guy even was and what he was doing as he released a hissing breath and started cussing quite creatively, but his voice refused to work. Each new gulp of air took more effort than the last and slowly he began to realize that everything hurt. From his muscles to his feet. Especially his feet. They felt like two big, raw lumps of meat that did nothing but hurt. He ignored it as best as he could for now.

A thin hand with long, elegant fingers was lain on Iris' forehead, golden-violet sparks danced across the digits and over her skin.

Wait, this was the famous Healer?

“For how long has she been sick?”

Gladio's tired mind barely registered the question. “What?” he managed to utter after his second attempt at articulating.

“How long, Gladio”, Healer barked.

How...? That wasn't important right now.

“Nearly two months”, he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. By all the sulphurous fires of Ifrit's den. By all rights, she should be dead by now.”

That made Gladio's tired brain pay attention again. “Excuse me?”

Healer shook his head and reached for the bucket a huffing and puffing Casto held out towards him, bedsheets under his other arm.

“No time for that.”

He gently sat her upright, her weight lying awkwardly in his arms, and sent a wave of softly glowing magic through her. The golden and violet light washed over her like water. Without warning her upper body jerked forward and she vomited her dinner mixed with black blood into the bucket. It stank sickeningly.

Iris took big, heaving breaths, occasionally dispelling mouthfuls of junky black sludge. After nothing new came up, Healer set the bucket down beside the bed. He didn't seem to care for the splatters that had hit the naked skin of his arms and torso. They slowly turned into wispy smoke and then vanished entirely. Her eyes fluttered feverishly without seeming to notice her surroundings.

“Yeah, that's it. Everything's alright now. In and out, in and out. Yah're doing great, Iris. Everything's gonna be alright.”

While Healer was gently coaxing his barely lucid sister into regaining her breath and Casto put a garish monstrosity of a pillow beneath her head, Gladio leaned against the wall to ease the pain in his feet and to regain some kind of equilibrium. Because this Healer knew his sister's name. Gladio knew he hadn't told him and he had known his name, too, without needing an introduction. Just who was he?

“Tata?”

All eyes turned towards the door. There stood a girl. She looked to be around seven with wild, sleep mussed red hair and honey coloured eyes that gleamed golden. She looked drowsily at them and yawned.

“Solaris? What're yah doing out of bed?” asked Healer without taking his glowing hand from Iris' forehead even once.

“It's loud”, the girl complained.

Gladio's gaze wandered from one to the other and he wondered.

Healer nodded. “Ah know, little sun, but Iris needs mah help for now. If yah can't sleep anymore, could yah go down and ask yahr mati for a big glass of water? Casto, could yah look after Astra, please? Ah don't wanna've him running 'round alone and in the dark.”

Both nodded and left the room, the girl taking the teenager's hand. Gladio stared after them. He had heard this accent before, he knew he had. If he could just place where. He felt like he was missing some very crucial things right about now. Sleep. What he needed now was sleep and for Iris to not die.

His gaze settled back on her. A flittering net of golden-violet magic covered her from head to toe. It looked more like mist than a tangible thread. How was such a thing possible? Only the royal family should be the one harbouring powerful magic in this city, even the whole continent. And now here was this Healer, whose magic prickled against his skin like a Lucis Caelum's did. It would probably be more upsetting, if he was fully awake.

“What does she have?” he asked instead of all the other questions burning on his tongue.

Healer blinked at him, as if he had forgotten that Gladio was also in the room. He made a passable impression of a bowstring drawn tight. In an obvious nervous tick, Healer tugged at his hair and wet his lips.

“She's scourge sick”, he said at last, his voice barely more than a quiet whisper.

“Scourge sick”, Gladio repeated tonelessly. “You mean the black plague, curse of the Gods, the starscourge? That kind of scourge sick?”

“Yes”, came the careful confirmation.

Gladio felt his fingers flex like they wanted to hit something, if he had just a bit more energy left. “That's a load of chocobo shit”, he rasped. “The starscourge does not reach within the Wall. Everybody knows that.”

Near glowing, violet eyes shot him a deadpan stare that felt achingly familiar. He suppressed a shudder creeping up his spine. Damn, those eyes were eerie.

“Two months ago yah said? Has she been anywhere near the old crypts at tha' time?”

The broken shield opened his mouth to instinctively deny the question, but he hesitated. “I... I don't know”, he admitted at last. He tried to remember, but his head started to feel like it was packed in wool.

“Doesn't matter anymore. It's good that yah came now, but yah were cuttin' it very close. She wouldn't 'a' made it through the night. Ah can barely believe tha' she made it this long.”

With a shuddering breath Gladio leaned more of his weight against the wall. The rough plaster dug uncomfortably into his shoulders.

Steps sounded from the hallway and shortly thereafter the girl was back, two cups in her hands. One was steaming and emanated a strong smell that made him wrinkle his nose. She gave the one with the foul smelling liquid Healer, the other one she cradled between her hands.

“Thank yah, little sun”, the young man smiled. “Now, yah remember what ah taught yah? Reach for the power resting in yahr bones. No more than a spark. Take it and guide it, it knows what it's got tah do.”

The girl's face scrunched up in concentration, in a way Gladio had seen a hundred times before, in the way Noctis had looked when he had wanted something to go exactly right. What Gladio hadn't seen before was the reddish glow of her hands.

“Not so much, little sun”, corrected Healer gently.

Solaris' brow furrowed even more and after a few seconds the glow dimmed until there was only the barest sheen of it left. It seeped into the cup and the liquid it contained, until it glowed, too.

“Very good”, praised the young man and Solaris beamed. “Would yah be a dear and give it tah Gladio over there?”

“Yes, tata”s she said dutifully and held the cup out to him, standing as far away as she could manage while doing so. She was clearly skittish around strangers.

“No, thank you”, he said while looking at the glowing cup in healthy scepticism. As long as he had no idea what it was he wouldn't drink it. He swallowed, and that made his parched throat just more noticeable.

Healer clucked his tongue in disapproval. “It's jus' water with a bit of healin' magic. Sit down and drink tha'. Yah look like yahr abou' tah keel over. 'Specially with yahr feet.”

Gladio made a face, but in the end he took the cup from the girl. The liquid in it looked like plain water hit by sunlight during noon. It was kind of fascinating, he had to admit. The little girl scampered off towards the bucket and glanced into it, curiosity clear on her face. She clamped her hands over her nose and mouth with a disgusted sound. Gladio frowned. A child as young as her shouldn't see these kind of things. Healer seemed to be of a similar mindset.

“Solaris, would yah please go and get Ardyn? And after tha' ah need yah tah do somethin' very important. Can yah do tha' for me?” Healer looked at her with serious eyes. The girl nodded, face solemn. “Yah need tah go tah the other patients and tell them tha' everything's alrigh'. They don't need tah worry.”

“Ah will, tata”, she said and carefully stepped closer to give Healer a kiss on the cheek before she left the room.

“What happens now?” asked Gladio and took a tiny sip of the mystery water, as he had dubbed it in his mind.

At once he could feel some of his exhaustion leave and the soreness of his muscles easing off just a bit. He blinked in surprise. This was a bit like the potions he knew, just far more gentle in the way the soothed things. Potions and ethers made by Lucis Caelum magic were always accompanied by an unpleasant burn.

Healer answered while he carefully, drop by drop, made Iris drink that foul smelling tea. “Now ah'll start tah heal her. The scourge has been burrowed in her body for too long for me tah heal it all at once, but ah can do it. Yah needn't worry.”

“You can really heal her? How long will it take? There is supposed to be only one person who is able to heal the starscourge, and I kind of doubt that you are the Oracle in disguise.”

The deeply buried seeds of hope started to grow into a warm feeling pooling in his stomach. Or maybe that was just the mystery water.

“Yeah, but like ah said, it'll take me some time. A week at least. Ah don't just need tah rid her of the scourge, but also repair the damage it caused and tha's the truly tricky part.”

Gladio became light headed in relief. If he hadn't been sitting on the floor already, he would certainly do so now. But he couldn't help but wonder how it was even possible. The Fleurets had been blessed by the Astrals with the power to cleanse the scourge from its victims. There were no others.

“My, my, nephew. You have all of the clinic in a right tizzy.”

A man stood in the doorway with wild reddish hair that had an odd violet sheen and golden eyes. He leaned on a cane the same way King Regis did, and Gladio didn't know why, but he found that quite disturbing. Despite the stuffy and hot air he wore a long pair of trousers and a high collared tunic with sleeves that fell down over his wrists.

“She is scourge sick”, the man stated. His eyes bore a strange glint that Gladio didn't like.

Healer nodded. “Yes”, he affirmed and motioned towards the bucket sitting at the end of the bed. “Could yah get rid of tha'? Ah made her drink some of Hiemi's purging tea, so she'll need tha' bucket 'gain soon.”

“Of course, dear nephew. But if you don't mind, I would like to see how you handle this one. It's the first time I see you treat someone afflicted with starscourge, after all. Not to worry, I'll keep myself well out of the way.”

Healer's answering shrug clearly said suit yourself.

Gladio watched as the man – who was most likely this Ardyn the little girl had gone to fetch – gathered the bucket, keeping a straight face at the sickening smell, and retreated back towards the door.

“I'm ready”, the man announced with a grin.

Healer huffed, but he turned his full attention back to Iris who now looked like she had gone back to sleep. He gently rested his free hand on her stomach, right over her navel, the other still being on her forehead, and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed in obvious concentration. For a moment there was absolute silence. Then the glittering net over his sister's body retreated, leaving the room strangely dim. Not a moment later however, Healer's whole body started to glow in a golden light. It looked like a sun was trapped under his skin.

The black lines on his skin, that Gladio had thought were tattoos, started to crack open and released a burning violet light. It looked utterly otherworldly. Suddenly Gladio could believe every story Viti had told him about Healer. That he was a fallen star or an Astral, forgotten by humanity and time. There was so much power. It made his skin prickle and the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. And it seemed like Healer himself could barely contain it, he looked like his human shell was going to shatter at any moment.

Magic pulsed in time of an invisible heart, lapping over Iris and through the air like it was water breaking on a shore. The light seeped into Iris' skin, concentrating where the black splotches marred her, and with each new wave that washed over her they grew a tiny bit smaller. A fine black mist rose and dissipated within seconds.

Gladio couldn't do anything other than stare at the spectacle in front of him, even as it made his eyes burn to look directly into the pulsing light. He didn't even look away when he heard a violent hiss from where the red haired man was watching.

An especially large wave made the air shudder, caressed his skin like the softest silk and eased the pain in his bloody feet. There were quite a few cuts and a broken toe nail. He hadn't even felt it as he had been running to get his sister the help she needed. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him. The magic teased over him like a long lost friend. It made something in him that had been sleeping for a long time, suddenly sit up and pay attention. He knew the feeling of this magic, had felt it quite often when Noctis had been made to practice his elemancy, even if he had never been connected to it like a proper Shield should be...

He jerked upwards. By now the magic had turned into a bright supernova with the young man and his sister at its centre. It couldn't be.

“Noctis”, he breathed, stunned.

He stood there, frozen and having no idea what he should do. This couldn't be possible. He had searched for his prince high and low and the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive both had searched outside of Insomnia. If Noctis was still in the city and not dead they should have heard something by now. Shouldn't they?

On the other hand there clearly were people down here. Gladio hadn't even known that this place existed, and it was part of his job to know about the city's layout. It would also explain how Healer had magic. But why hadn't he recognized him then? He knew what the prince looked like! Then again, Healer had long hair and what he had thought were tattoos covering a large part of his body, including his face. And even if it turned out that Healer wasn't Noctis – which became more and more likely the longer he thought about it – this was a place he could potentially be, because no one had ever thought to look.

Had Noctis hidden here this whole time?

Why?

As if he had been heard, Healer opened his eyes. Even in the bright light of the magic they glowed like a pair of newborn stars. Gladio had to look away. White spots danced in front of his eyes. A high pitched whine sounded from where the door was located.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the pulsing light became weaker, the pressure of powerful magic in the air grew lighter. With each new wave it retreated further and further, like the changing of the tides until it was mostly gone.

The black splotches on Iris' skin had turned into mere shadows beneath skin still pale from sickness. There was a bit of colour in her cheeks now.

Healer's hands retreated and the last of the glow died, leaving the room in a strange half light until Gladio's eyes had adjusted again. Only the black lines on Healer's skin still gave off a dim iridescence, and Gladio swore there was a new one slashing across his cheek close to the nose. It made the impression that the man's humanity was nothing but a thin veil that could be ripped away to show what really lay beneath at any time. And wasn't that disconcerting?

Reluctantly, like he needed to remind himself how to move his limbs, he stood up and carelessly let the blanket Gladio had carried Iris in, fall to the floor, before taking up the one the teenager had brought in and spread it over Iris' still sleeping form. His breath came in quick bursts and he was covered in sweat like he had just completed a taxing workout. With a quiet groan he stood up straight. Finally the shimmer beneath his skin was completely gone.

“Fuck. Ah think ah overdid it”, he mumbled barely loud enough for Gladio to hear.

“You can say that again, my dear nephew. Please warn an old man the next time you want to set off the magical equivalent to a Nifasi firebomb. It would be much appreciated. You can never be sure of the consequences otherwise”, stated the red haired man before Gladio could even think to open his mouth.

There was a caution in Healer's gaze as he nodded, that set Gladio's teeth on edge and made him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably the guy who used a cane exactly the same way his King did but moved like a was an actor playing out a drama.

“Now, go downstairs to your wife, eat something and drink some of her truly amazing tea. You look like someone who dearly needs a break and some extra energy. I dare say, it's too early already to go back to sleep again. I will look after the girl for the time being. Do not worry, I have some experience in looking after the scourge sick and know what I'm doing”, he continued as if he hadn't seen Gladio's glower.

Which he clearly had.

Healer – who was quite possibly Noctis and Gladio wasn't really sure if he wanted him to be or not – just rolled his eyes, but he took a step towards the door before he stopped and turned towards him, a guarded look on his face.

“Come”, he mumbled. “We need tah talk, and best do it now.”

Gladio didn't say anything as he followed Healer through the still mostly dark house. To be honest, he had no idea what to say. For all the questions tumbling through his mind in a never ending whirlwind since he had first seen the young man.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to rage.

He wanted to shake the answers out of the man leading him down dark stairs.

But he didn't. If this whole mess had taught him one thing, it was that raging at it all didn't help a thing. So he swallowed the anger hissing in his mind down and sat in the chair in the warmly lit kitchen he had been indicated to.

The kitchen was a large room that was clearly well lived in and cared for with a loving hand, if cluttered to a point where there was nearly no free space left. Despite the warm summer night there was a new fire burning in the hearth that was old enough to belong in a museum. It made the air near uncomfortable hot.

Most of the kitchen appliances looked like they belonged into the 5th century ME at least. Well, there was an electric tea kettle and a few other bibs and bobs that clearly belonged into the modern age of electricity. How could anybody live like that?

As he examined the kitchen he noticed the woman standing at the counter. She wasn't very tall with a thin face and very pale skin that contrasted heavily with her long black hair. Her big eyes were of a green that reminded him of shadowy forests outside Insomnia. The long and thin tunic she wore was of a russet colour and looked more like a nightgown to his eyes.

He knew her. It was the woman that he had met at the Black Saffron the day before yesterday. Well, three days ago by now, he supposed. What was her name again? Hiemi? Wait, so the little girl had been...

She came over towards the table with a tray in her hands upon which were three cups and a large pot that wouldn't be out of place in one of the historical romances he liked to read sometimes. Now that she stood next to Healer, who had been awkwardly hovering next to an empty chair, Gladio could see that she was a few centimetres taller than him. The woman gave Healer a chiding glance that lost its bite with the fondly exasperated tilt of her smile.

“Yah overdid it”, she stated.

“Ah know”, he murmured and gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Ah'm sorry.”

“No, yah're not. Now sit down and introduce me so tha' we can have this talk b'fore we've gotta go t' work.”

And Healer did just that.

He gave her hip a gentle squeeze and sat down on the chair across from Gladio while the woman served the tea and then sat down herself. There were a few beats of awkward silence before Healer cleared his throat and introduced the woman next to him.

“Gladio, may ah introduce to yah Hiemi, Dame of this household and mah wife. Hiemi, this's Gladio.” He hesitated, as if he wasn't quite sure how to continue.

Before he could make up his mind about it, Gladio interrupted him: “What in the name of Pitioss' cursed depths were you thinking, Noctis?!”

The young man flinched, his fingers dug into the wooed tabletop until his knuckles turned white and his mouth fell open with no sound escaping him.

In the warm light of the kitchen it had become very clear to Gladio that this Healer was in fact Noctis, despite all the changes. The facial structure practically screamed Lucis Caelum. There was also the magic – magic he had never seen or heard of before – and the fact that he knew his and Iris' name.

“Where the fuck have you been? Do you know how worried your father was? Still is, to this day? Do you know how the nobles are hounding him to produce another heir? He keeps refusing out of love for you and the late Queen and you sit here, healthy and alive, and play house! The King still hopes that you're alive and well, that you're coming home one day. Do you know what your actions did to Ignis? To Iris? To me? Do you-”

By the end he had been nearly screaming, ready to lunge across the table and beat some sense into his prince. If he even deserved that title anymore. But suddenly he was frozen in place. The words tumbling out of his mouth, halted on his tongue and his muscles refused to move. It was like time around him had been halted but everywhere else it moved forward like it always did. He couldn't even blink as he looked at the two people across from him.

Noctis had grown even paler than he already was, hunching his shoulders and shrinking into himself. Hiemi, the woman he had introduced as his wife – and wasn't that a whole other can of worms – was another story. Her eyes were blazing in fury as she rose from her chair, one arm held out in his direction. Around her wrist and along her forearm danced smoky grey chains. Sparks of green and yellow jumped between the individual links.

“Don't yah dare.” She hissed, her face contorted into a sneer. “Don't yah think he knows tha'? Mah husband knows the consequences of his actions quite well, knave Gladiolus. Yah bet there's a damn good reason for it, do yah understand me?”

“Hiemi”, Noctis said in a tone that was barely more than a whisper. At once her attention was on him. “Let him go, please. It's fine.”

“It damn well isn't, and yah know it! Shield or not, friend or not, he can't jus' walk in here and treat yah like this. Healer. Noctis. It's not yahr fault. Yah couldn't 've done anything different. Not with Him watching.”

Gladio listened with growing concern. What was she talking about? Who was this Him? The way he said it he couldn't be a nice guy. Noctis made a keening noise so full of old hurt and fear and guilt that Galdio would have recoiled, if he were able. The prince pressed his face into her abdomen, his hands grasped at the cloth of her tunic and his shoulders shook as if he was crying. She didn't say anything but carded her hands through his long, tangled hair with a tender expression on her face. Gladio dearly wanted to look away, shaken to his core at the scene before him.

“Ssshhhh”, made Hiemi and continued to pet Noctis' hair until he pulled away.

The prince's eyes were thankfully dry and he didn't look quite as much as an anak caught in the headlights anymore. His wife pressed his cup of tea into his hands and he took a sip. And then another, the action calming him down further.

“Now”, she said, her tone brooking no argument, “we're all going tah sit down and talk like the adults we all are. Am ah clear?”

Here she looked sternly at Gladio who still couldn't move. He wished he could point that out to her.

“Mah life, yah need tah take off the spell first”, Noctis reminded her with an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Due to her pale skin, the redness in her cheeks was very noticeable as she cancelled whatever she had done with one last warning look towards him. The chains around her forearm vanished. He carefully flexed his fingers and shifted his weight, to see if everything was back in working order, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and waited for either of the two to speak first. Their short exchange had made it clear that there was more going on than he had thought – than anyone had thought – and he wanted to know what it was.

It was Noctis who started the conversation again.

“Tha' night in tha' alleyway ah was scared shitless, Gladio, and it wasn't because of tha' old drunk with the broken bottle.”

“What in the name of Bahamut's blades happened to you?” asked Gladio and watched uncomprehending, as both of them flinched slightly.

“Please, don't say His name. Down here, He can't see me”, Noctis pleaded.

“What do you mean, down here He can't see you? Wait, the He you were referring to is-?”

Gladio swallowed down the name Bahamut, but the other two knew exactly who he meant. They nodded in unison.

“But why?”

He didn't understand this at all.

“The Bladed One's still one of the Six, one of the Astrals, but His standing, from what ah understand of what Healer told me, is more tha' of the Infernian up there”, answered Hiemi and motioned towards the ceiling.

Ignis would love this.

The sudden thought made Gladio realize that he needed to get the advisor in on this. Gladio himself was in over his head. But that was for later. Now...

“So Ba- the Bladed One is some kind of traitor, a malevolent deity? What does that have to do with why you're hiding in this dump?”

Both of them bristled at his words and Hiemi opened her mouth, clearly prepared to argue, but Noctis' hand on her shoulder held her back. She leaned backwards, still glaring at Gladio like he had insulted her personally.

“It's got everything tah do with it”, said Noctis. “Do yah know the stories of the Lucis Caelums tha' had a magic different from wha' was expected of them?”

Gladio hesitated. He tried to think of the old stories Noctis had liked to read in the archives, when he had been allowed down there, but none came to mind. It was strange, since this was the main reason he had started to like reading historical romance. Try as he might, he couldn't remember a single of those stories the young prince had liked to ramble about on occasion.

“I... cannot say I do, no”, he admitted, feeling strangely ashamed of it.

Noctis just sighed. “Tha's alrigh'. They've always ended violently, with the death of the Lucis Caelum in question, and more often than not with innocent bystanders dead. There're records of Kings killing their own children tah minimize the inevitable damage they'd cause if left tah live. Dad told me the last one left to live died when he collapsed a house on top of him, also killing the people within the building and most of the bystanders. Ah managed tah find records from the Founder's time, where King Somnus decreed in the Bladed One's name tha' every child not of black magic was Bad Faith.”

Gladio gave a quiet curse. He remembered now, the sordid stories Noctis had told and had given him a sour taste in his mouth every single time. The prince seemed to have noticed his discomfort at his retellings and had stopped them after some time. It hadn't stopped him from going into the archives, however.

All of a sudden he had a very bad feeling about this.

“Please tell me you aren't one of those cases, Noctis”, he all but begged, already knowing the answer to this.

Ruefully, the prince in hiding shook his head. “If he finds me it's only a question of time before something happens. Do yah understand? Ah can't go Up because for some reason we can't figure out, He can't find me here. As long as ah'm here nothing'll happen.”

“And what of the rest of Lucis? Should it fall into chaos, conquered by Nifelheim, because you were too much of a coward?”

Noctis pressed his lips into a thin line in displeasure. “And what would you have me do, Gladio? Wait for the dragon to kill me? I've wanted to just march up to the Citadel so many times, I've lost count. You have no idea how much it hurt to stay away from all of you.”

In his ire he was starting to lose that damn accent that had been starting to grate on Gladio.

“Stop!” thundered Hiemi before the argument could escalate any further, her presence backed up by the feeling of powerful magic. “We've been talking abou' contacting His Royal Majesty for some time now. 'Specially in the last few days. The children've been excited ever since they heard we've been considering it. Healer, ah think it's abou' time we finally did it.”

“I... yes”, he relented after a few moments of silence. “It's abou' time.”

#ffxv #dreams of our past #gladiolus amicitia #hiemi is an overprotective fury #two hard headed people meeting each other #well #this could have gone better #cat's out of the bag now #gladio finally finds noctis #he could have handled that better #but also so much worse #iris has the staarscourge #and because of *plot* she's getting treatment #ardyn is having a hard time believing what just happened #he needs to sit down for a minute #my fics #the spirit writes

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years

Text

ask your destiny to dance [6] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“What are you doing here?” Ash’s voice is hostile, and Roger waits with his snare in his arms, just around the corner of the building. He’s not following her, or at least, he didn’t mean to; he’s just packing up his drums, like he did after every show. Sure he was a bit earlier than usual but that didn’t mean anything.

“Sweet girl, I wanted to see you.” The voice is teasing, like she should have know this already, masculine, low, and it makes Roger nauseous. Finally he peers around the edge of the building and catches a better glimpse of the man from the bar, who is now standing less than a foot from a tense and confused Ash who leans against the door to the bar.

“You- why?” Already her voice has softened, but it seems he still makes her uncertain, if the tense set of her shoulders is anything to go by. But then the man’s reaching out, resting his hands on her upper arms. “You’re not mad at me?” She asks, relaxing under his touch, looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. Something in Roger’s gut twists at the sight.

“Of course not, baby girl.” He’s got her accent, Roger realises, and something in his chest tightens as the man places his hands on her shoulders coaxing her away from the door so he can wrap her up in a hug. Roger can see her trembling as she hugs him back, a soft confusion written all over face. “I’ve missed you.” He tells her, voice a murmur, but in the crisp, night air, it’s loud enough that even Roger hears.

“Why are you here, Gus?” Ash is the one who steps back, out of his grip, leaning back against the door. Roger can see her hands shake when she pulls half a cigarette from her breast pocket.

“I wanted to see you again, make sure you’re okay.” And the man, Gus, takes her hands, gently taking the cigarette stub and throwing it away before he laces his fingers with hers. She doesn’t even protest.

“And Kira?” She’d asked, voice so soft that Roger almost didn’t catch it, and the man in question shook his head with a smile as he leaned in, murmuring something that only she could hear, pressing kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, my sweet girl, you look so good.” He mused, voice growing a little louder, stepping back to admire her, and though Roger wants to gag at his tone, syrupy and full of obviously fake revere. Ash actually giggles, and not insincerely. “As beautiful as the day I met you.”

“You think so?” Voice uncharacteristically young and hopeful, it’s so unlike her that Roger’s pushed to the end of his patience, and rounds the corner with his drum in hand, not even acknowledging the pair as he heads for his van, though the way Ash jumps back from the man as if he’d burned her, it does little to ease the discomfort in Roger’s chest.

“Hi!” Suddenly flustered, Ash moves around Gus to stand between him and Roger. He’s not really sure why she’s bothered, there’s so much distance between the back door and the van, but he thinks it might be so that they look less suspicious. It’s not working.

“Hey.” Roger says, tone clipped as he says it, fumbling for his keys as he opens the back doors of the van.

“This is, uh, August.” She’s aware of how strange it sounds, how guilty her words come out, and when Roger’s sat his drum inside the van, he finally turns to get a good look at the man. The man with a hand on Ash’s shoulder, making direct, unflinching eye contact with Roger, smirking.

“August, this is Roger, he’s in the band.” There’s a waiver to her voice that Roger doesn’t like, and he can’t bring himself to smile at her. Everything feels so wrong, and Ash looks so guilty, like she’s been caught red handed.

He’s handsome by any definition, but not by Ash’s usual one. High cheek bones, hair gelled up into a neat quiff with a few sparing grey strands running through it that only served to make him look more distinguished, as did the dark, well groomed stubble on his jaw. He looks to be in his late 40s, in a pressed, well tailored suit, and shoes that Roger would consider too formal for even an explicitly formal event, so out of place in the dingy, pub setting. And his hand is still on Ash’s shoulder.

Roger doesn’t want to think about why it puts him on edge, just knows that it does. August takes long, deliberate strides before he reaches Roger, holding out his hand.

“August Reid.” His smile was sharp, and when Roger took his hand, he held it a little too tight, a show of dominance. “You guys played very well.” It’s the least sincere compliment Roger’s ever received; he wants nothing more than to punch August in his smug face.

“Roger.” After a beat, he leaned against the edge of the van, crossing his arms. “So how do you know Ash?”

“Ashley.” August correct automatically, and Roger can see the way Ash flinches out the corner of his eye, still looking a little mortified, avoiding looking at both of them. August doesn’t see it, his smile widens just a little bit, all sharp teeth. “I taught her back at Saint Andrew’s, I thought I’d stop in while I was in town.”

“He was my Art History professor.” Ash confirms from behind him, and Roger freezes where he’s looking at her. He’s never seen her like this before, demure, shy; she’s always consciously made an effort to appear larger than life, to compensate for her size and sweet looks, but now she looks so young. She can’t even bring herself to meet his gaze, but he can tell she doesn’t know he saw their earlier exchange, if she did know, he thinks she probably wouldn’t be so honest about that.

“Oh,” is all Roger can say, before he snaps out of it, moving past where August is trying to be intimidating, up to Ash who’s leaning against the back door, “Rocket, can you move, I’m trying to pack up.” She doesn’t even fight him on it, tell he can walk around the front the same way as he got here. With the door opens, he hesitates, reaches out to touch her arm, and when she looks at him her expression is surprised as he tilts his head in a silent question, asking if she’s okay.

“What?” She snaps, frowning and shifting out of his grip, a spark of her old fire returning. Roger’s moment of softness receded with his eye roll and he lets the door slam closed behind him. Part of him knows that August was watching the exchange. By the time he’s pulled down the rest of his equipment and is ready to haul it out, Ash is behind the bar, cheery as ever, and August is nowhere to be found.

“I thought you were studying fashion.” Brian muses into the balmy night air. The band had stayed until last call, intrigued about the newcomer, waiting until Ash was taking out the trash for the night to ask her, the four of them chatting around the van, Mary looking quite tired and leaning against Freddie, but enjoying their company..

“I am.” Ash agreed, seemingly back to her old self now that August had left, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This isn’t my first go at uni.” She admitted, and Freddie nodded, passing Mary his lit cigarette.

“I thought he was a talent scout or something; he’s well dressed.” Brian half smiled, and Ash chuckled, shaking her head at him, smile bright. "What was his name?” He asked, and Ash looked a little shocked, looking to Roger, who was suddenly avoiding her gaze.

“Rog didn’t tell you guys?” She asked, smile fading a little into confusion, and Roger snorted out a laugh.

“Told them he seemed like a prick.” He scoffed around his cigarette, and Ash flushed, frowning at him.

“Oi, don’t be mean, Rog! It’s just how he is, he’s always been a bit of a-” and for the barest moments they lock eyes and Ash turns a hilarious shade of pink, they both somehow know what she was about to say, he’s always been a bit of a dominant one, but she can’t bring herself to say those words out loud. She doesn’t want to say it for how it would sound, how it would make the others suspicious, but she knows Roger already is, even if she doesn’t know the full extent; it would be funny if the implication didn’t make Roger’s stomach turn, “a bit of an alpha male, you know.” After a beat, she clears her throat. “But yeah, Doctor Reid is my old Art History professor.”

It doesn’t escape Roger the way she doesn’t say his first name.

“What made you change your mind?” Mary yawns, passing the cigarette back to Freddie, and Ash fixes her with a fond smile. Since Freddie had introduced the women, they’d become fast friends, and Roger had never seen anyone as ready to fight as Ash when the dudes start leering at Mary.

“This was the only place that I could do what I wanted to.” And it sounds so honest that Roger’s tempted to believe it, if not for the memory that surfaces.

It’s her, a few months ago, bathed in moonlight, her head on his chest and his arm around her, ‘I was kicked out of uni once before, you know?’ her voice is thoughtful and he laughs, a little incredulous, asks how, but she’s grinning at him with that wicked smile of hers, and does a good enough job of distracting him that he doesn’t even realise she doesn’t give an answer.

“I’m surprised you even remember his last name,” Freddie laughs, “she couldn’t name a single lecturer on our timetable this semester.” And the others laugh, but Ash just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want to know their names, it’s not like we’re gonna be friends,” but she does concede after she turns to head inside, “Doctor Reid is a friend of my dad’s, I’ve known him since I was sixteen.” And she smiles so blithely it somehow takes some of the shock out of her statement for Roger, who chokes on the smoke of his cigarette.

“How did he know you were here?” John’s question cuts through Roger’s spluttering, and Ash stops in her tracks.

“What?” She asked, suddenly confused, a little defensive, as she turns back.

“How did he know you’d be here?” He asks again, so calm and unflinching, not looking away from the sudden flicker of doubt that cross Ash’s face.

“It was coincidence, Deaky; just luck is all.” She says, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She heads back inside.

The next time they play there, he’s back, and Ash is a sweet, flustered mess, and the dichotomy of this, and who Roger knows her as, is a little shocking. Even Maureen seems concerned, though she doesn’t say anything.

“He’s too old for you.” Roger makes it out the back before Ash does during her usual post-gig break. August went home halfway through the night, and Ash had returned to her normal bright, if a little sultry, bar-persona.

“Excuse me?” She snapped as the door slammed closed, and she looked to where Roger was sitting on her usual milk crate.

“You heard me.” Roger responded, something easing in his chest at the comfort of hearing the hostility in her voice that she’d used when they’d first met. It also hurts a little, to think how he’d prefer the hostility to the cute, blushy mess that August brings out in her. “I saw how he looked at you.”

“Watch your accusations.” She snapped, but there was actual anger in her words, which surprised Roger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She growled, and it was cold hostility; it wouldn’t lead anywhere fun, and Roger didn’t know how to face this. “I’m an adult, dickhead, so don’t think I can’t make my own decisions.” And her accent’s a little stronger, but her words take a moment to process. “He’s a friend-”

“He calls you baby.”

That shocks her into silence, and after a moment, a cruel, cold smile spread over her face. They both know, now, that Roger knows exactly what’s going on between her and August. He’d never been good at anything apart from blurting out exactly what was bothering him, and this time was no different.

“Are you jealous? Were you eavesdropping on us? What the fuck?” And there’s no warmth in her harsh laughter. “This is why I don’t do casual.” She spits, and Roger’s whole face lights up with shock, and he barks out a laugh.

“Jealous? Oh Ashley,” and when he says it, she flinches again, and he regrets using the name almost immediately, but he can’t help digging himself deeper, “no, I’m just interested in what a goddamn doctor, who’s almost fifty, mind you, is doing being interested in a girl like you.”

He watches as she actually has to take a step back, her mouth falling open in shock, eyes suddenly shiny with tears, and he knows he’s fucked up.

“A girl like me...” She whispers it with a laugh, smiling sadly, before finally meeting his gaze. “He... he likes me, Roger.” And fuck, she sounds so vulnerable it’s like a punch to the gut. “After everything I’ve done, he fucking likes me.” And after a beat, she stepped forward. “He still thinks I’m good, and that’s all that matters.”

She cuts her own break short, slamming the door as she heads back inside, leaving Roger to the silence of the car park.

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee@smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings @2ptonpt@benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times @heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues@banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric

#roger taylor #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #queen #queen imagines #ask your destiny to dance fic #the angry lizard writes

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