#after years of every Roy having to withdraw from their feelings

[otb-mp3]

Roman and Kendall playing as antithesis to each other… two sides of the Roy coin and we see the masks they’ve put up for years around Logan and each other crumble, Roman standing up to Logan causing his own mask of apathy to crumble and show this empathy he’s always had but been forced to hide, both around his father and siblings all so he himself wouldn’t get hurt… and even after the years of hurt from Logan, Roman still wants to preserve an honorable reputation of his late father… while we also see his dedication to the company and the reputation of the Roy family name… of the same coin we see Ken, even with everything he’s been chasing for from Logan for years sits on a piece of paper in the palm of his hands, it’s all he wanted but is that enough for him… it’s a responsibility that he’s spent years to gain, to prove himself to his father and he has it… his name is on that paper, he has the world he’s desired in the palm of his hands and yet we’re taken back to Kendall, alone again in that bathroom contemplating his fathers discusión, trying to get into Logan’s iron clad sealed head, now he’ll never know what his father truly thought of him by the end of it all, the paper is real, and all the pieces have fallen in the way he’s wished for but is that really all the he wanted? or was he chasing after something much deeper? much more personal?… then we’re lead to the end of episode 4, where we see the dichotomy and demise of the Kendall we were confronted with after Shiv’s wedding, powerless and terrified in Logan’s grip… contrasted with this new revival of waystar successor Kendall Roy of Season 1, who so quickly went behind Romans back, soon to break Shivs already waning trust, completely throwing the power balance Ken Roman and Shiv had come to compromise only 10 minutes before

[kendallroydefender]

Somewhere only we know - Chapter 9 (Kendall Roy x reader)

Masterlist

Series summary: You met Kendall when you were six years old. You have spent every summer together and now years later you and him are still just as close. This story follows Kendall and his best friend through their lives. Will they realize their feelings for each other before it’s too late?

Chapter four summary: The weeks go by without you and Kendall talking - it’s especially hard when you still see him around sometimes.

Authors Notes: Thank you to everyone who’s reading this story! Means the world to me! Quick warning: this chapter mentions the ATN shooting

Wordcount: 2.7K

Kendall is doing some interview on TV - you can’t watch it. You are avoiding everything Kendall related, it hurts too bad. Just reading the tabloids and news brings tears in your eyes. He’s everywhere after the failed bear hug. You don’t know what happened and as far as you know Stewy doesn’t either. The last thing you’ve heard was that he was going to rehab again, you were glad he took this step. But apparently he’s back now, about two days after he went to get help. You would have reached out but you can’t. You don’t want to run after him after he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want this anymore. You have talked to Stewy on the phone, going through a Kendall withdrawal together brought you closer. Except from that you’ve heard from Laura, from college, who had gotten engaged a few months back and was inviting you to go dress shopping with her and her other friends. You weren’t really in the mood for that but you said yes regardless.

Looking out of the car window you feel dread instill in your stomach. Connor and Willa have invited you to their homewarming party. You really didn’t want to go but you like them both but you were a little unsure about seeing Kendall again. It’s been a stressful day at work so you could push your evening activities to the back of your mind. But now in the car with nothing to distract you from it, you can’t help getting more nervous every minute.

You walk into the big suite. A few familiar faces and some people you’ve never seen before. You talk to a few people while staying alert of your surroundings, not wanting to walk into a conversation with your former best friend.

You spot him in the other side of the room as Willa makes a speech. He looks so sad and kind of defeated. You have seen him looking sad often throughout the time but never like this. You let your eyes linger on him for a little.

His dark eyes land on yours but you look away fast, gripping the champagne glass firmer.

Kendall feels his heart hurt. You look absolutely beautiful and he wishes he could just walk up to you and hug you, feel your warmth, smell your scent. He thinks just that would make him feel a little better. But you won’t even meet his eyes and he knows it’s his fault. He deserves this. In another world would you two have attended this event together? Went home together?

”Yeah we are about thirty percent finished with the script and the stage is almost ready too.“ Willa tells you about her upcoming play.

”We have all this sand that’s going to be on the stage.“

”That’s so cool! I need to watch it once it’s done.“ you tell her

”You’ll be invited to the premiere of course.“ she smiles at you.

You stay for an hour, talking to Willa about her upcoming play and Connor tells you about his presidential plans. You see Kendall exiting the apartment, stepping out onto the balcony to smoke. If you were still friends with him you would have followed him out, make sure he was okay, sharing a cigarette with him. It hurts in your chest and you can feel that you’re about to tear up. You hurry into one of the bathrooms. After a few minutes of making sure that you won’t spill your tears in public you exit the room to look for the hosts. You find Connor talking to Kendall. ”Shit.“ you mutter but Willa is nowhere to be found. You approach them ”Hey, uhm Con. I’m sorry but I have to leave.” You tell him

”Oh no, really?“

”Yeah I’m really sorry but I don’t feel well.“ you glance at Kendall quickly. He can read you like a book, so he knows the real reason you’re leaving. It makes his heart break even more. He hates that he’s the reason you’re hurting. Your eyes are a little red and he has to stop himself from reaching his hand out.

”I’ve heard there’s a flu going around. But thank you for coming.“ Connor says with a squeeze of your shoulder

”Thank you for inviting me. This place is really beautiful.“ you tell him and he gives you a warm smile

”Thank you, y/n.“

”Goodbye Con. Tell Willa I look forward to her play!“ you force a smile before you mutter a quick ”Bye.“ towards Kendall.

”What is going on with you two?“ Connor asks his younger brother but he just shrugs ”Nothing, we’re uh, we’re good.“ before he turns to go to a bathroom to do some coke.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s a few days after the party at Connor and Willa’s and you try your best to push every thought about Kendall away. You have met Stewy for coffee yesterday wich cheered you up a little.

You’re eating lunch while scrolling through twitter when a tweet shows up telling you that there’s a potential shooting at ATN. You feel your blood running cold. Your put your fork down suddenly feeling nauseous. 'Kendall.' Is your immediate thought followed by 'Is he okay?'. You just hope he’s okay.

The rest of the day you can’t really concentrate on anything, you follow the news on your screen the whole time. You type in messages to him multiple times only to delete them again. Only when it’s confirmed that it was a suicide, you feel like you can breathe again. You feel sorry for the person, you can only imagine how the work inviromenr at waystar feels like. But you are happy that nobody else was hurt and that Kendall is fine.

Unknown to you Kendall is not doing fine at all. He thought about telling Shiv when he felt the tears coming while talking to her.

Kendall walks onto the roof. There are walls of glass now, hindering him from looking down. He leans his head against the cool material. He thinks he has never felt this lonely in his life before. He almost broke down in front of Shiv just minutes ago. He knows he has to do something. He can’t go on like this.

You come home after work. As you walk in your building the man at the front desk calls for you.

”Excuse me Miss, you have a visitor. He didn’t wanted to go up, wanted to wait here for you.“

You thank him before you turn around towards the small sitting area. In one of the chairs is sitting Kendall. You take a deep breath before you walk over to him. You can’t lie you have missed him like crazy but didn’t want to reach out to him first. He needs to apologize first.

”Ken.“ you wanted it to sound sterner than it came out and when he looks up when he hears your voice. His eyes somehow seem even sadder than usual. Even more than at Willa and Connors place.

The staff of your house is discreet but you still don’t want to have this conversation in front of them. It’s private. So you take a deep breath and nod your head towards the elevators.

”Let’s go up.“

Kendall nods, he seems relieved. The elevator ride is awkward, you’re both not talking. He’s nervous, you can tell. Inside you put your coat away as Kendall walks further into your apartment.

You find him in your living room, he seems distressed in a way you have never seen him before.

”Ken are you okay?“ you ask him. Kendall glances at you for a moment "Yeah, uh I’m- I’m fine.“ he looks out of the window before meeting your eyes again. You step closer to him. You can see tears brimming in his eyes. "Hey, hey Kenny.“ you stride over to him and wrap your arms around him. He breaks down in your arms a sob rippling through him. You feel him shake, you have no idea what had happened but you feel worried. You’re so confused as to what happened for him to end your friendship but you can tell how distressed he is right now, so finding out about that gets put on the backburner for now.

”I’m so, so sorry!“ he says through his sobs "Let’s sit down okay,“ you guide him to your couch, sitting down next to him while cradling his head in your hands.

"What happened? You can talk to me.“ you felt him shake his head. "I can’t- I really can’t.“ he says with a broken voice. He had thought about telling you when he came over, he has lost you already so telling you won’t ruin your friendship but know seeing you he can’t do it. "You can. Whatever it is.“ you reassured him. "You will never talk to me again.“ he said burying his head into your stomach. "Ken. You are my best friend. I’m always gonna be here, okay?“ you tell him honestly before bending your head to press a kiss against his head. "I love you, Kendall.“ he held you tighter hearing that. "I- I Love you too. And I’m so so sorry for the last weeks.“

”It’s okay Kendall.“

”No, no I hurt you. I didn’t mean a word I’ve said. I had to- had to do it.“

”You-? What happened?“ he’s silent except from his sobs

”Kenny, please. It’s me.“

He takes a few moments and you can tell he’s thinking about what to say

"At Shiv’s wedding.“ he starts before he has to take a moment inhaling a shaking breath. "Some- something happened. I- I killed him. It’s all my fault.“ a sob ripples through him. Your confusion is replaced by a deep pit in your stomach as you piece together what you knew and what Kendall had just said to you. That must be the reason Kendall went back to Waystar. Did anyone else knew about this? Did Logan know? Was Logan blackmailing him? You felt him hold you tighter before letting you go "I was high, looking for the next score and he, the kid, he said he knew where to get something. I drove the car and then he saw something, he grabbed the wheel and pulled.“ Kendall closes his eyes for a moment shaking his head as if the memories would go away this way, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I- uh i looked for him, I dived but I couldn’t find him.“ he lets out another gut wrenching sob. A tear rolls down your cheek ”I thought it was easier to fight with you instead of lying to you. I didn’t want to get you involved in this.. But I- I can’t do this, I need you.“

”Thank you for trusting me and tell me.“ you tell him still processing what you had just heard.

"I would understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.“ he said without looking at you. "Ken look at me please.“ he didn’t so you softly cupped his cheek "Please look at me, Kendall.“ his sad brown eyes met yours "You’re the most important person in my life. What happened was tragic but it was an accident." You tell him seriously "You were in active addiction. You haven’t killed someone on purpose. And he grabbed the wheel. It was an accident.“ he let your words sink in. He couldn’t remove his guilty feelings but what you said lifted a tiny bit of the pressure off his heart. It had also helped just to share this with someone he trusted, not having this big dark secret eating him alive.

"But I did-" he started almost choking on his words until you interrupted him "No, Kendall. You need to cut yourself some slack. You searched for him that’s more than many other people would do. And the fact that you feel bad about it shows that you aren’t some psychopathic killer." Your thumbs swipe softly on his cheeks catching the salty streaks.

"It must have been horrible to keep this to yourself all this time. Did you tell anyone else?“ you ask softly "Dad knows.“ he says "He-he helped to cover it up." You nod squeezing his hand "Is that why the Stewy thing fell through?“ this time he nods. This information was definitely helpful for you to understand what has happened.

You sit for a while, so he can calm a little. You gently stroke his back. ”Come on, let’s go to bed.“ you say, it’s not something you’ve thought much about, it’s obvious that he shouldn’t be alone right now. You can see the relieve on his face.

You grab some of Kendall’s clothing from your closet and you get ready in the bathroom while he changes in the bedroom. He sees one of his shirts laying on your bed. Its worn, you slept in it the last days. You slip under the covers and let him scoot over into your arms. His head rests on your chest and your hand softly rubs his back. You can feel tears dripping onto your shirt from time to time. ”It’s okay Kendall. I’m here.“ he sniffs a little. He had missed you so much and part of him had known the whole time that talking to you would make him feel better. When his father had ordered them all to come to the summer house to talk about the future of Waystar it had felt like a personal torture to him, having to see your house, the place that had held so much comfort in his life knowing he couldn’t see you anymore.

You wake up early the next morning. The sun was up and a glance at your phone told you it was only 5:30. You look over to your friend. Kendall was laying next to you, curled against you. He looks so small. You were a bit hungry but you knew you couldn’t get up. He would be so scared if he woke up and you weren’t next to him and you also didn’t wanted to wake him, who knew when he had a full night of sleep the last time. You trace his features with your eyes, the same face you’ve known for such a long time. His confession hadn’t changed your feelings about him, about this friendship. What had happened was bad, undoubtably, but you meant what you said yesterday it was an accident and he was on drugs.

When he wakes up you can practically see the relief that washes over him as he recognizes where he is.

”Good morning.“ you tell him, your head resting on your pillow looking at him. He smiles a little then for what feels like the first time in weeks to him. It’s really just the side of his mouth lifting but it’s better than nothing.

”Good morning.“ he answers, voice rough from sleeping, he has slept better than he had in weeks. You scoot closer to him, hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily. It has a calming effect on both of you and you stay like this for a while longer. His arm is still wrapped around your middle, like it has been the whole night.

”I’m gonna go make some coffee.“ you mumble at some point.

You also decide to make some toast for breakfast.

”I, uh i moved. I wanted to tell you the new adress but-“ he breaks off

”It’s okay. But why and where do you life now?“

”It reminded me of Rava too much.“ you nod understanding the decision

”I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t knew what to do but I, uh I know now that it was a big mistake.“

”Yeah, i was not the most glorious moment of our friendship. Had to fly home with Stewy.“

”I know, uh, I asked Greg about it.“

”Why?“

”I wanted to know that you’re save, that you got home. I felt really bad.“

You’re both quiet for a moment before he speaks again

”And uh, what I said was all just lies. Of course I trust you. More than anyone else. And uh, you’re family too.“

”I know, Kenny.“

”But I said-"

”That you told me yesterday proves that you trust me. I knew then.“ you squeeze his hand

Do you let it go easily? Yes probably. But you can’t hold what he said against him. Not after you heard what happened, he was probably in shock and traumatized and actually thought he was protecting you this way.

”Do you want to do anything today? Stay in? Motorcycle drive?“

Kendall wants to stay in and you can understand his decision. So you both just lounge in your bed the whole night, you order lunch and watch movies while cuddling. It’s nice to have Kendall close again.

Later, when it’s dark out, you go onto your rooftop. Kendall is smoking and you’re looking over the city.

You turn your head to look at him and find him already looking at you

”I don’t deserve you.“ he says seriously

”Don’t say that, Kendall. You deserve good things and friends and people that love you.“ you tell him. He gives you a small smile.

”God, Kendall I’ve missed you so bad.“ you shake your head a little

”Me too.“ he says

”At Connors, I’ve wanted to go follow you so badly.“ he admits

”I almost went to the balcony to check on you.“ you tell him

”We’re really bad at not being friends.“ he chuckles a little and you join him.

”Good thing we’re not doing that anymore.“ you answer him with a smile.

[amelikos]

Some character notes and episode notes for HZ045, writing them down for future reference.

Towards the beginning, we see the Explorers going back to Spinel who asked them to withdraw since they got to see Rayquaza's power for themselves. They all follow his lead. Spinel probably knew that Rayquaza was too overwhelming, so this plan might have simply been a way to gather data or see Rayquaza's reactions etc. Spinel likes observing and act on concrete information so he can plan better in the future, so. At least, he got confirmation that Rayquaza does react to the resonance generator, has an idea of his moveset, the way he reacts and potential weaknesses.

Liko and the others proceed to challenge Rayquaza. Really shows how far they came too, since Liko introduced herself and her goal of taking Terapagos to Rakua, Roy talked about how grateful he was to Rayquaza since he got to go an adventure thanks to him.. Rayquaza actually listened to them and agreed to battle them. I liked how formal the whole thing felt and the way they communicate with Rayquaza and how Rayquaza's feelings are taken into account too. He could just refuse to battle them at all if he didn't acknowledge them but the fact he accepted means that he is willing to test them. Rayquaza being Lucius's greatest partner really shines through.

Liko and the others start battling Rayquaza. I liked how nervous Liko felt at the beginning because she was reminiscing how she couldn't do anything last time so she wanted to make a difference this time, but was unsure on how to approach Rayquaza since he is in the sky and she is on the ground. It seems like having a Flying type will potentially be important to face Rayquaza again in the future. Amethio has an Armorga, who can fly. So, maybe something will be done with it in the future.

Anyway, the group split into two teams during the battle. Roy went with Friede on Lizardon, and Dot teamed up with Liko as Cap assisted them to help their Pokemon fly. At some point, Hogator and Lizardon launched a Flamethrower at the same time. I liked it, because in HZ002, I remember Hogator trying to mimic Lizardon when he was using this move but he couldn't use it back then. And now, Hogator can battle alongside his idol, which is really cute. Something else I found significant is when Dot came up with a plan to help Nyahoja jump even higher to reach Rayquaza, which was to have Nyahoja get on Kuwassu and then having Kuwassu fire a Water Gun towards the ground and give more momentum by using Low Kick. I'm pretty sure this is a reference to HZ017, when Roy asked Dot for advice when he trained Hogator and Kaiden and he eventually came up with the plan to have Hogator use Ember towards the ground to propel himself and Kaiden upwards, etc. I like that Dot was resourceful and quickly remembered this, and it really feels like all these moments from the first year are now paying off against Rayquaza. Dot and Liko work well together, so do Roy and Friede so I wonder if we'll see them battle together more in the future. Maybe with some changes every now and then? (maybe Liko and Friede teaming up, and Roy and Dot together etc, idk)

Rayquaza started taking everyone pretty seriously after all their attacks so he used Draco Meteor (that one move that hits pretty much everything around). It quickly overwhelmed everyone, and the move almost hit Terapagos so Liko and Nyahoja quickly went to Terapagos to protect him... and that's when Amethio's Soublades showed up to repel that move and protect them. (The BGM used during that specific scene was good too, it felt kinda knight-like to me, Soublades being a knight who protects others like Liko and Amethio...) I find it quite interesting that we don't know how Amethio phrased his sentence to have Soublades protect them... I wonder what he said exactly. Either way, Amethio protected Nyahoja back in HZ002 when she was about to fall off from the ship and now, he protects Liko and her Pokemon again. I really like that and that this is how he shows up again. He also muttered and went on about Spinel (so he used his name around Liko so maybe she heard him and knows his name now ww) and how he knew he was scheming something... Spinel keeps an eye on Amethio and seems to pay attention to what he does (as seen in HZ034), and despite not acting with the others and sometimes even being "excluded" from their plan, Amethio also pays attention to what Spinel does.

Either way, Amethio used Terastal so he mastered it in the time between HZ034 and now. I talked about his Terastal pose being the same as Friede, which I like because he probably was really impacted by their battle at the castle in HZ025, so he remembers it. His "follow your own path" is also significant (for obvious reasons). Amethio seemed much more in control this time, the way he battled and used Ghost Dive seemed much more controlled. Friede joins Amethio and uses Terastal too, and he seemed really fired up. He suggested a teamup when he asked Amethio to have Soublades ride on Lizardon, and I found Amethio's reaction kind of funny because there was a silence during like, two seconds, like Amethio was considering whether he was going to follow his lead or not ww Amethio eventually does though, and their teamwork was fantastic. I have a lot to say about it, but the inherent trust between the two of them, the way they were able to work together so seamlessly, no hesitation, no miscommunication, it really shows how much they know and respect each other. I feel like their battles during chapter 1 were also important for them to have a good grasp of each other's battle styles, which is also why they can work together so efficiently now. They were both overwhelmed by Rayquaza, but it's good they could team up and I'm hoping they team up again in the future. I feel like Zir watching Gurumin's video in HZ027 about multi battles and how battling alongside friends is reassuring was leading up to this episode and Amethio battling together with Friede.

Liko and Roy end up battling again now that Friede and Amethio can't anymore. Liko and Nyahoja seemed a bit unsure, but Hogator was motivated and learned a new move (Nitro Charge). Liko reaffirms her desire to take Terapagos to Rakua and how she wants to go farther with Nyahoja and be more helpful to everyone (I really like the way she phrases her desire to get stronger), and Nyahoja responds to her feelings by evolving into Nyarote. The growths of characters and Pokemon are intertwined in Horizons, so I knew that Nyahoja would eventually evolve (it was more of a matter of "when" and I already suspected Amethio would be around too), HZ040 cemented the fact that her evolution would be soon too (because it felt logical that the next step after Nyahoja overcame her past and feelings of doubt about where she belongs would be evolution to show her growth even further, and they did just that, which I'm happy about). Nyahoja was cute as she was and I liked all her moments so I'll miss her a bit like that (especially Liko carrying her!), but I'm looking forward to her moments as Nyarote. I hope she has more opportunities to be protective of Liko, Mibrim and Terapagos since she has grown now. Maybe she'll be able to carry the Pokemon too.

Anyway, Liko and Roy managed to land some moves on Rayquaza and made him wince a bit. Nyarote caught Hogator with her yoyo (or vines?) and protected him, which was cute. Terapagos called out to Rayquaza and they talked a bit, but he eventually went away. Rayquaza looked intently at Liko though. I felt there was lots of focus on Rayquaza's eyes this episode (it shows his resolve, feelings, etc). It's still too soon for Rayquaza to join them, but this was a step in the right direction because he is testing them and properly battling them.

Amethio was about to leave with Zir and Conia (who joined him, and they were glad he was okay), but Liko caught up to him to thank him for saving her earlier. He brushes it off and tells her not to misunderstand because Rayquaza is his prey and that's all there is to it as he leaves. Boy, your excuse doesn't make sense (what does Rayquaza have to do with you going out of your way to help Liko ww), but it's okay. There was definitely a shift in Amethio's dynamics with the group (especially Liko and Friede, with him helping Liko and him teaming up with Friede), and it'll be interesting to see how it'll change in the future. The Explorers teamed up together against Rayquaza, and Amethio was not shown with them but with the main group. Also, this episode was Dot's first time meeting Amethio (she was always in the ship when he showed up).

Liko and the others go back to the ship. Everyone is okay, but Liko and Roy are sad about losing, not catching Rayquaza, and seeing the ship destroyed. Friede gives them a solemn speech about how giving up means that their adventure will end. He reminds them of everything they gained through their adventures, and reassures them that they haven't lost as long as they don't give up. Reaching Rayquaza, who once seemed so far away, is incredible by itself. (Friede was really cool in this scene, I love when he shares his wisdom like that and it feels really effective because we know everything he's been through)

Liko and Roy decide not to give up and reaffirm their goals. Dot also joins in and says that she doesn't want to sit in the sidelines, and she wants to chase the mysteries together with Liko and Roy. (Also really loved this scene because Dot has decided she wants to be together with her friends more and it works well after HZ's first year of her trying new things at her own pace and getting used to having friends and going outside) Liko and Roy want to learn Terastal (Roy mentions how amazing Lizardon was, and Liko mentions Soublades) and ask Friede for advice, so he tells them to leave everything to him because he has something in mind (which we know is a transition to the next chapter, as Liko, Roy and Dot will be going to school to learn Terastal). Liko looked at the Brave Asagi and thanked it for taking them this far (good scene, I love that Liko thanks the ship too).

The last scene of the episode is at the Explorers' base. Agate apologizes to Gibeon for not being able to handle Rayquaza. He tells them to allow the RVT to gather the Six Heroes. Sango and Onyx seemed surprised by this decision and Onyx wanted another chance. It seems like both Onyx and Sango are devoted to Gibeon. I wonder why. Spinel deduces Gibeon's plan to have the RVT work for them. Spinel is buttering his boss up ww Gibeon tells the Explorers to monitor Terapagos and Liko (he used her name), and they agree and bow to him.

Two things to note: they specifically didn't show Amethio in the scene when the others are bowing to Gibeon, probably because Amethio doesn't bow to Gibeon? Which would indicate something about their relationship. Amethio also seemed to be at the base physically, alongside Hamber. The others were there as holograms.

Spinel also seems to have his own agenda, since he was shown smiling. He probably doesn't have any loyalty to the Explorers (even though he butters up Gibeon by calling him with honorifics and everything), so something else probably drives him. I wonder what. (I will support Spinel in everything he does. I just hope we get to know why it seems like he is detached from everyone, and that his heart seems closed off to anyone who isn't Blacky. What are his motivations? He specifically referred to the Explorers as a job back in HZ016.)

We get a glimpse of Gibeon at the end. He seems bedridden? His hair looks like Amethio's (he is probably a relative?). He talks about returning to Rakua and getting the "Rakurium" and that his adventure isn't over. He also mentions Lucius. Potential old man yaoi?? Is Gibeon still pining for Lucius after a century? Were they friends? Was Gibeon part of the original Explorers? (since Diana mentioned in HZ025 that the Explorers were Lucius's friends, but I don't know if the "friends" part referred to human friends, or Pokemon friends) Did something happen that caused a rift between them? Maybe Gibeon just wants to see Lucius again to apologize to him? (I really hope Gibeon has human motivations. So far, he has the same wish as Terapagos, which is going to Rakua.)

This episode was written by Kureha Matsuzawa btw, so he is the one who handled the climax for a chapter this time (climax of chapter 1 was by Dai Sato). Both chapters ended with a scene of Gibeon talking (last scene of HZ025 was with Gibeon as well).

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Twenty Three

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~4,300

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The budget lines were blurring together. Eva squinted down at them and couldn’t make her brain comprehend the numbers. They were nothing more than hieroglyphs on the page. Vague shapes with no meaning. She took a deep breath and tried again from the top. Her pen traced along each line slowly, but Eva wasn’t absorbing a single thing.

Distracted.

She knew she was distracted—had been for over a week. It was so hard to go about her daily life when the memory of Horacio moaning her name replayed over and over in her mind. Eva’s skin remembered the feeling of his touch. Her mouth remembered the taste of his kiss. Her body remembered the weight of him between her legs.

Fucking distracting.

Pushing the paperwork away, Eva leaned back in her chair and stared at it. She was only halfway through closing out the finances and it didn’t look like she was going to get any more done that evening. It was fine. She had time to wrap things up.

The garage door opened.

Definitely not going to get it done.

Stacking everything together, Eva slid the packet into an accordion folder. She picked up her pen and note pad, added them to the folder, and stood. Then, she moved to push the chair back beneath the table with the intent of heading upstairs for the evening.

Josh cleared the kitchen and rounded the doorway to the dining room, “Birdie! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

She did not want to talk to him. Since the day he got back from Texas, Eva had done everything within her power to avoid her husband. She couldn’t look at him without feeling absolute contempt—which wasn’t exactly new, but she was losing the struggle with hiding it from him.

Her face wouldn’t relax into careful neutrality and she had to bite down on her tongue to keep the vitriol from spilling out of her mouth.  Not that he noticed. Josh was the same as he had always been. Eva learned a long time ago to see through all his charming smiles, all his social graces. Knowing how he really felt was the only way to predict his behaviors. Concealing how she really felt was the only way to protect herself.

Lately, Josh was constantly in and out of the house. He spent his evenings either drinking in The Lounge (with or without Alexei) or at the lab. His moods swung back and forth from boyish excitement to sullen withdrawal. And, what was worse, she was beginning to think that Josh was on a path to self destruction that was going to take her with him.

Eva might be able to write off his growing mania as a celebration of solving the Texas problem. But, she’d seen him after a big win before and it never lasted longer than a day or two. The bender he was on now had gone on far too long.

“How are the books?”

She shrugged, “Um, they’re okay. We’re a little behind last year, but that’s to be expected with the reallocation of resources to your new project.”

Josh smiled, “The ROI is going to be insane. More than enough to set us up for life.”

Eva nodded along. He was slurring slightly and his hair was mussed on one side. The scent of flowers and alcohol drifted towards her. She wondered how much he had to drink and who he slept with. Lizzy, maybe? Eva guessed that it didn’t matter. Whatever kept him busy.

“I’m talking millions of dollars, Birdie,” he continued as he stepped towards her.

His hands lifted to cup her face and Eva had to fight to keep still. The touch was repugnant. It made the bile rise to the back of her throat and her stomach turn over. She held her breath to keep from gagging.

“I know you’re upset with me for leaving you,” Josh said lowly, “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long.”

She remained silent. If a single word made it past her lips, Eva would tell him to fuck off and die. His excuses meant nothing to her.

To her great surprise, Josh leaned down and kissed her. He hadn’t kissed her in what was probably years, except for the occasional peck to her cheek when they were among company. Eva’s neck ached with the force it took to keep from jerking her face away from his.

“Things are going to get better. I promise.”

He kept holding her face, kept looking at her for an answer. Eva stood there looking back at him. She didn’t know what he wanted. And, more importantly, she didn’t care.

“You don’t believe me,” Josh muttered.

Eva stumbled when he pushed her away. She caught her balance with one hand on the back of a chair and tried to think of a suitable lie.

“No,” he cut her off, “You’re right. I have been a terrible husband. I asked too much of you.”

Her hand tightened on the folder. She held it to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. Josh never apologized. She stared at her husband, took in the look on his face, and he kind of looked like he was actually sorry.

Suspicious.

“Its all for us. You know that, right?” His voice took on an entreating tone, “Once this is over, we’ll be set.”

Or, you’ll be in jail.

Josh put his hands on his hips, “You’re mad. That’s okay. But, I need you to stick the landing, Birdie.”

Eva finally found her voice, “What landing?”

His smile was not friendly, “Can’t tell. It would ruin the surprise.”

Annoyed, she shot back, “How am I supposed to stick a landing that I can’t see coming?”

He wagged a finger at her, “Very smart, Eva. Very, very smart.”

She hated the way he complimented her. Smart—with a heavy side of sarcasm.

Fixing him with a serious look, Eva said, “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

Mouth pursed, Josh made an ‘oh’ sound of intrigue, “So serious.”

“You said it, yourself. This whole plan will determine the course of our lives. I need to know what’s going on so that I can help you.”

He rolled his eyes and spun around to walk towards the kitchen. Eva followed him. If he’d had enough to drink or had taken a pill too many, she might be able to pry the truth out of him. It might not be a pretty truth, but at least she would be prepared .

With his back turned, Eva used the back of her arm to wipe her mouth.

“This is too important to keep to yourself,” she asserted, “Does Alexei know?”

The Russian might tell her if she could catch him at a good time and convince him that Josh was losing control. With the way he was swaying as he walked, she thought she would have a pretty good argument.

“He knows enough,” Josh said over his shoulder.

She watched him rummage around in the pantry until he found a bag of chips, “Josh, please. What are you planning?”

“I’m going to find the source,” Josh said around a mouthful of chips, “for the product.”

“What product?”

“The product,” he emphasized, “for the new project. I’m going to find the source—cut out the middle man.”

She stared at him in disbelief, “That’s the plan? Cut Mr. Jimenez out of the deal.”

Josh put more chips in his smug little mouth.

“How is that going to gain us millions? The price cut can’t be that different.”

Swallowing, he threw the bag onto the island and walked around Eva to the cupboard, “I haven’t told you the best part.”

Taking down a glass from the cupboard, Josh went to the fridge and got out a pitcher of sweet tea. He poured a healthy serving and drank it down. All the while, Eva waited impatiently for him to elaborate.

He set the glass down with a loud exhale, “The best part, Birdie, is that Diego has no fucking clue what he’s dealing.” A pause, “He has no idea what it can do.”

“Okay,” she said levelly, “what can it do?”

Josh grinned, “It can give you the rush of cocaine without any of the pesky side effects.”

Eva blinked, “So, an amphetamine.”

“No! You’re not listening,” he groaned, “Its hyper focus, endless energy, the ability to work through three whole days without sleep. No irregular heart beat. No headache. No hangover, and no withdrawal.” Josh held out his hands with the palms towards the ceiling, “Every office worker in the country is going to want a piece of this. Blue collar, too.”

Her mouth hung open. On the surface, Eva could see why Josh was so excited about this new discovery. If it was true and he could patent it, Josh would never have to work another day in his life. They would need the additional factories just to keep up with demand.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, “Never more sure of anything in my fucking life.”

What the fuck was she supposed to do with that information? What the fuck was she supposed to do?

A hundred different things whizzed through her brain all at the same time. The volume of variables was so overwhelming that Eva became paralyzed. She couldn’t do anything more than stare at her husband while he licked salt from his fingers.

She needed to lean into an old reliable, “Where are we with clinical trials?”

Josh tossed his head, “That’s my Birdie. Always thinking ahead.” He set down the chips, “I put in the application this morning with the FDA. If we line a few pockets, we’ll be into our first set of trials at the beginning of the year.”

That was an extremely short timeline. Josh must have lined quite a few pockets.

“Well,” she breathed, “I hope it works out.”

Resting his hands on the island, he fixed her with a focused look, “It will. I am telling you that it will.”

“Okay.”

Josh looked at her a moment longer. Eva met his gaze with one of her own. She was neither going to condone or support this kind of project. Mostly because it really wouldn’t matter. There was only one cache of money left to retrieve and, after that, all Eva had to do was have a single conversation.

Freedom was very, very close.

“Anything else?”

He shook his head.

“Alright,” Eva said, “I’m going upstairs. You let me know when I need to start preparing to take on additional staff for the trial.”

The front door opened and Alexei called out for Josh.

“There’s fresh bourbon on the bar,” Eva spun on her foot and left the kitchen. Folder still cradled against her chest, Eva climbed the stairs and went to her bedroom. After closing the door, she leaned against it and let out a long breath.

It was perfect.

So fucking perfect.

There was nothing Josh loved more than a new project, especially a new project that he knew would make money. With what he told her, it would be him that was distracted over the next few weeks. Eva could use that distraction to her advantage.

Setting down the folder, Eva sat heavily on the bed. She carefully planned her next few days around a calendar that was already packed with meetings. There would be a lot to do and Eva was more than motivated enough to do it.

But, that was a problem for tomorrow.

Tonight, Eva just wanted to relax.

A knock at the terrace doors.

Her gasp was very nearly a scream. Eva whipped around to look through the glass on the other side of the bed. Horacio. What was he doing here? Why would he come to the house when Josh and Alexei were in the house?

She rushed to the door and opened it, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

Horacio stepped inside, “I need to talk to you.”

Eva carefully closed the door so that it wouldn’t make a sound, “What is so important that you have to come here when other people are present?”

He held up his hands in defense, “I know. This is important.”

Hands on her hips, Eva cocked her head to the side and waited for him to explain himself.

“My superiors have enough to arrest.”

After knowing about the investigations for so long, Eva thought she might be a little less surprised when they came to their inevitable end.

“When,” she croaked, “do I need to be ready?”

“We’re waiting for a warrant,” he answered, “given that its Friday, you should be prepared for it to be served next week.”

Eva nodded, casting her eyes around the room in thought, “Which judge?”

“Judge Riser.”

She laughed, “That’s one of ours. I don’t think you’re going to get your warrant signed off on.”

Horacio’s lips pursed, “We have a lot of evidence.”

“We have a lot of money.”

His expression was not amused, “We’ll go over his head.”

“That’s a better plan,” Eva replied, “But you’ll have to sit on your hands for more than a couple days.”

Horacio’s jaw worked, “I’m happy to do that as long as I get results.”

“Good.” Then, “Should I prepare to be put in handcuffs?”

“I think you’re already pretty prepared,” he drawled, “Unless you’ve forgotten my lesson.”

Eva’s chin dropped. She definitely hadn’t forgotten, “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said with a smile, “But, you’re worried about nothing. They’re more focused on Dr. Moore than they are on the wife he locks up when he’s mad.”

Her eyes widened, “You told them?”

“Yes. I did,” Horacio confirmed with an edge in his voice, “I had to make them understand why they shouldn’t throw you in a jail cell next to your husband.”

Eva turned from him. She pushed her hands through her hair and tried to calm her frazzled emotions. The room fell into silence. Eva horrified that the secrets of her marriage were out in the open for others to judge and Horacio standing silently while he waited for her to cope.

“Pack a bag.”

“What?”

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, “or a suitcase. Whatever you think will hold what you absolutely need with you.”

Eva squinted at him, “Why?”

He approached, “Because I’m going to kidnap you.”

The ghost of a smile formed on her lips, “When?”

Horacio shrugged, “Soon. After the warrant, but before the arrest.”

She searched his face for honesty and found it. The sense of safety that was absent for the last week returned. As did her doubts.

“Why?”

Horacio tilted his head to the side.

“Why,” she said, “do you want to kidnap me?”

“We have been over this,” he groaned.

Eva sighed, “I know. I’m sorry. I just...I don’t understand why you’re going through all this trouble.”

For me.

She didn’t say the words, but they wandered between them all the same. Eva knew that it made her sound weak and insecure. She knew it. Over six years of hearing how she fell short as a wife and as a woman did nothing for her self esteem. All this work he was doing, the way he was putting his career on the line, its didn’t make sense that he would go this far for her.

Horacio’s shoulders dropped. His expression closed off and for one panicked second Eva thought he would turn around and walk away.

It would be better if he did.

His hand passed over his mouth and a new expression formed. It was a thunderous thing that made Eva take an involuntary step back. He charged her, had her caught up in his arms. His scent sharpened, sweetened. Eva could barely breathe as she stared, wide-eyed, at him.

He kissed her recklessly—uncaring that her moan might be heard through the door, or that her lips might bruise. Horacio’s arms squeezed the air out of her, leaving her gasping against his mouth. His teeth bit down on her lower lip. His tongue followed to soothe the pain.

Eva’s knees threatened to give out under her weight. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. A pressure rose between her legs that reminded her of how long they had been apart. She could not fight against it. Horacio wouldn’t let her.

Hands roamed her body, pulling her against him so that nothing but their clothes separated them. His mouth trailed down her neck, sucking hot, wet kisses that sizzled on her skin.

“Do you understand this?” he asked in a rough voice. “Huh?”

She couldn’t speak. Her brain simply couldn’t form the words. It had taken a step back from center stage, leaving her body to do all the work. And that body was pulling at his shirt, tugging at his hair. It was rolling her hips enticingly and drawing the taste of him into her mouth.

Horacio groaned lowly. He dragged her along with him until they were standing in her bathroom. Clumsily, he closed the door and shut them inside. Then, he pushed her against it and returned to their kiss.

Eva worked her fingers under his shirt, frustrated when he pulled away. His breaths were quick and the look in his eyes was the same one he had when he dropped to his knees before her.

Horacio’s thumb rubbed against her cheek, “You want it?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to need you to say it out loud.”

“I want it,” she said in a small voice.

He let out a slow breath, “You gonna pack that bag?”

Eva nodded. When his mouth thinned, she said it out loud, “I’ll pack it.”

Another slow breath, “Just what you need. What you can carry.”

“Uh huh.”

“Good,” Horacio replied with pride in his tone, “I’m gonna fuck you now. That okay?”

“Uh huh.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just went about kissing her deeply and getting her out of her clothes. When he had her down to her bra and panties, he maneuvered her a few steps until he could haul her onto the counter and step between her thighs. From his pocket, he threw down a condom that would wait until he needed it.

Eva finally managed to get his shirt off and his belt pulled from the loops on his pants. Her efforts to unzip his fly were derailed when he got her bra off and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Both of her hands carded through his hair to anchor herself against the arousal that was rising fast and hot.

The sound their breaths echoed off the tiled walls, too loud. Although the door was shut, it wasn’t locked. It shocked and surprised her that Eva didn’t care if they got caught. All she wanted in that moment was to feel the heat of his mouth wander its way across her chest and neck.

Horacio worked the final piece of clothing down her hips and dropped it to the floor. Palming her mound, he rotated his wrist and pushed two fingers inside. Eva bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep the whimper at bay. She could hear how wet she was, knew that he could feel it.

The muscles along his shoulder and arm flexed as he built a rhythm that was almost too fast. She couldn’t focus on what she was doing. Struggled with the button on his pants. Horacio let her push them down to free his erection before he stopped her with a deep, lingering kiss. He pulled away to tear open the condom and roll it on. And then he was setting one of her feet on the counter so that he had enough room.

It had been a long time for Eva. Long enough that she almost forgot what it felt like to have someone line themselves up and push inside. It hurt, and the pain was hot and sharp along her slit. She tilted her head back and blinked rapidly at the ceiling. He was bigger than Josh. Thicker. Impossibly thick.

Her body clamped down on him, earning a hiss from Horacio. He buried his face into her neck and eased forward another inch. Another. Another. Until his hips were flush against hers.

He paused, head lifting. Eva sat there, mesmerized, by the awe on his face. The pain was dim against the light reflecting in his eyes. Eyes she could drown in.

A knock on the bathroom door.

Eva’s whole body flinched, her knees pulling up and her hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Horacio grunted, but remained in place.

“Eva?”

Ah, shit.

Alexei.

“...Yes?”

“I need to talk with you.”

Her mouth opened and hung there. The man in her arms grinned and she could see the battle he was waging to keep from laughing. Eva swatted at him and tried to get down from the counter. Horacio pulled her into his chest and held her still, his expression clearly telling her that he was not going anywhere.

“I’m, um,” she stammered, “naked right now. I was about to take a shower.”

God, she hoped that he believed the lie.

There was a long pause of tense silence. Eva stared at the door, willing Alexei away. A hand snaked between her body and Horacio’s. She felt a thumb press against her clit.

Eva shot Horacio a murderous look that was completely ruined by a soundless exhale. Little circles. Slow. So slow. Horacio held her gaze, completely at ease with the fact that they were one careless sound away from disaster.

“Listen,” Alexei said from the other side of the door, “I’m going with you to meet the contractors. We should talk.” A beat, then, “Be careful with Josh until then. Okay, Birdie?”

She was barely hearing what he was saying. Her body was once more overcoming the insistent yell from her mind. It pushed her hips into Horacio’s hand, ignored the burn of his cock as it sank deeper. She rode a wave of pleasure, pulled along by the tide brought on by the steady circling of his thumb.

“Okay,” she replied, voice high.

Horacio smirked, kissed her lightly.

“Okay,” Alexei said. “See you then.”

Almost as soon as that final word was out of Alexei’s mouth, Horacio started moving. Small thrusts that stirred his cock inside her. Coupled with the way he kept pressure on her clit, Eva found herself lifting her hips to match him. She laid sloppy kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. She held him so tight that it felt like she would never let go.

Horacio rocked forward, until her head met the glass of the mirror behind her. His movements quickened and he hid involuntary sounds against her breast. Eva closed her eyes, shut out the world so that she could feel both the pleasure and the pain. The feelings moved within her at the same time, two sides of the same coin.

In the end, it was when he pressed his teeth to the inflamed gland beneath her ear that Eva felt herself come. Teeth bared and almost soundless. She couldn’t catch her breath. The burn in her clenched muscles mirrored the burn at her core.

He followed her down into it, groaning.

Limp-limbed, Eva nuzzled her cheek against Horacio’s. He leaned into the touch and she could hear the way he was smiling through is breaths. They shared a kiss or two before he pulled out. It was only then that Eva realized how sore she was.

Horacio realized it, too.

He froze in place, his eyes staring down at a condom that was red with her blood. Eva didn’t know what to say, couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Her silence, when she could have reassured him, made it worse.

With quick, perfunctory movements, Horacio removed the condom and tied it off. He threw it into the sink beside them. Eva swallowed, unsure. She picked her foot off the counter and went to close her legs protectively.

“Wait,” his voice was not much more than a whisper, “Let me see.”

Careful hands eased her open so that he could get a good look at her. Eva felt her face and chest warm with embarrassed vulnerability. She bit her lip and looked at him, looking at her.

“I hurt you.”

She almost denied it, “Only a little.”

He cut her a look, “You’re bleeding.”

Eva searched for an answer, “Its been a long time.”

Horacio shook his head, “I should have been more patient with you. Slower.”

“Its fine.”

“Its not fine,” he bit out, “I never want to hurt you.”

That last sentence was said so earnestly that all Eva could do was cup his cheeks kiss him.

Against her mouth, he murmured, “I should have been slower. I wanted you too much.”

Eva huffed a laugh, “I wouldn’t call that a problem.”

Horacio made a low, disgruntled noise, “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replied as she kissed away the frown.

Eva could tell that he was still thinking about it even after he was dressed. To keep from having to talk more, she peeked her head out into her room and found it empty. At the terrace doors, Horacio kissed her again.

“Pack a bag. Put it somewhere you can grab on your way out of the house.”

“I will.”

He nodded, clearly reluctant to leave, “Remember: between the warrant and arrest.”

“I’ll remember,” she assured him.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

When he was gone, Eva took stock of her room. Tomorrow, she would dig the duffel out of the back of her closet and fill it. Then, she would figure out a nice place to stow it away along with the money she was hoarding.

But, that was a problem for tomorrow.

[nordleuchten]

The Champ de Mars Massacre

Your back is aching, your muscles ache. The past days, no, weeks, you have helped to level the Champ de Mars, you have helped to fill up the puddles, to raise tribunes - all that hard labour for this day. The 14th of July 1790. To the day one year prior you were amongst the crowd that stormed the Bastille. Today is the anniversary of your Revolution. Thousands upon thousands of people have gathered today to celebrate. Not just from Paris but from all over France. Every Department and every Province has send its people, has send representatives and soldiers - their banners fly in the breeze. You here the people shout and roar “Vive le roi! Vive la reine!” and you join in in the jubilation as does your beloved right next to you. “Vive le roi! Vive la reine!” The members of the National Assembly stand together on the Champ the Mars, the King is there as well with his family, an altar had been erected in the middle of the field. General La Fayette rides in on his white stallion. He is the Hero of Two Worlds, the knight of the Revolution, the champion of the people - or so you fought then.

It is a hot and sunny day in July once again - but a whole year has passed. It is the 17th of July, a Sunday, a holy day. People have gathered on the Champ de Mars and this time it is not in celebration. The people are angry, they feel betrayed. This year, in 1791, thousands upon thousands have gathered to sign a petition, a petition to put the king on trial for the crimes he had committed against his people. Everything seemed orderly enough at first but then the people spotted two men hiding under the altar that still stood there from the celebration of 1790. The crowed fought there were spies and so they decapitated them and put their heads on spikes. Everything went downhill from there on. Troops of the National Guard arrived, the mayor of Paris, Monsieur Bailly arrives, martial law is declared, the soldiers are firing at the crowed and miss, the crowed throw stones at the troops, the soldiers fire again - they hit their targets this time, You see people fall, women, and man and children - god, they are firing at the children too! The crowed dispenses, all is confusion and hurry now, your beloved is no longer by your side as you start to run. There is shouting about a cannon that is supposedly about to be fired. More people fall. As you hurry to safety, you turn around one last time and see General La Fayette standing by his National Guard as they fire into the crowed. Is that what has become of the peoples hero?

Within little more than a year La Fayette went from the zenith of his influence and popularity to a record low. In 1790, during the Fête de la Federation, his carefully put together image had been approved by the people of France. In 1791 however, with the Champ de Mars Massacre, his image began to suffer severely and he had in great parts lost the love of the people. Right when it happened, the events of July 17, 1791 were used for propaganda from ever party and every side. It was played-down, blown out of proportions, made into something it was not, numbers and details were changed to make one group look more or less guilty. What remained though was the fact that La Fayette was at the centre of the events. His exact role in the massacre as well as everything that happened that day is often hard to determine, exactly because the massacre was so heavily used for political and propaganda purposes at the beginning. So here is a little overview about the things we know or at least thing we know.

What Happened? - The Context:

The officials had expected large protests on the 14th of July, the anniversary of the Revolution but the 14th passed rather peaceful. On the 17th however, the atmosphere started to heat up. Barely a month before, from July 20 to July 21, the King, Louis XVI, the Queen, Marie Antoinette, their children and other immediate members of the Royal Family had tried to flee from Paris to Montmédy. The flight failed and they were recognised and stopped in Varennes-en-Argonnne and after that brought back to Paris. La Fayette and other government officials tried to present the events as an attempted kidnapping of the King - that was of course complete nonsense, there was no kidnapping whatsoever and everybody knew that. The flight to Varennes painted La Fayette in a particular bad light for two reasons. First, there had been rumours of a possible escape by the King long before the actual attempt was made. It was La Fayette, among others, who had time and time again sworn that the King would not attempt to flee. He had accepted the constitution, he had become a monarch under the constitution and would not betray the loyalty of the French people in such a fashion. Second, it was the National Guard under the command of La Fayette who was tasked with safeguarding the King - and making sure that he would not escape. Their failure shed a very bad light on La Fayette. At best his guard was undisciplined and he had not enough control over them. At worst, he was fully aware of the royal families’ plans and aided them by instructing the guardsmen to look the other way.

On July 17, a petition had been drafted and the people were called upon to assemble and to sign the petition. This endeavour was first backed by the Jacobins but leading members later withdraw the support of the Jacobins as they had been urged by Robespierre himself to so. It was too little and too late however, as many people in the crowd that day would have identified as Jacobins.

The undersigned Frenchmen, members of the sovereign people, considering that, in questions concerning the safety of the people, it is their right to express their will in order to enlighten and guide their deputies,

That no question has ever arisen more important than the King's desertion,

That the decree of 15 July contains no decision concerning Louis XVI,

That, in obeying this decree, it is necessary to decide promptly the future of this individual,

That his conduct must form the basis of this decision,

That Louis XVI, having accepted Royal functions, and sworn to defend the Constitution, has deserted the post entrusted to him; has protested against that very Constitution in a declaration written and signed in his own hand; has attempted, by his flight and his orders, to paralyze the executive power, and to upset the Constitution in complicity with men who are today awaiting trial for such an attempt,

That his perjury, his desertion, his protest, not to speak of all the other criminal acts which have proceeded, accompanied, and followed them, involve a formal abdication of the constitutional Crown entrusted to him,

That the National Assembly has so judged in assuming the executive power, suspending the Royal authority and holding him in a state of arrest,

That fresh promises from Louis XVI to observe the Constitution cannot offer the Nation a sufficient guarantee against a fresh perjury and a new conspiracy.

Considering finally that it would be as contrary to the majesty of the outraged Nation as it would be contrary to its interest to confide the reins of empire to a perjurer, a traitor, and a fugitive, [we] formally and specifically demand that the Assembly receive the abdication made on 21 June by Louis XVI of the crown which had been delegated to him, and provide for his successor in the constitutional manner, [and we] declare that the undersigned will never recognize Louis XVI as their King unless the majority of the Nation express a desire contrary to the present petition

What happened next could have come straight out of a comedy - were it not to trigger a bloodbath. The crowed that had assembled that day spotted two “suspicious man”. Now, we do not know who this men were or what they intended - in all likelihood they just sat there and tried to relax and sleep, maybe find some shade on such a hot day, maybe all they wanted was to get a peek under the skirts of the women who had assembled as well. They hide behind the altar that had been left from the Fête de la Federation and this behaviour prompted the crowd to assume that they were spies who wanted to denounce the people present. The crowed attacked the men, beheaded them and paraded their head around on spikes. The crowed, who had previously already worried the Parisian officials, now had committed two murders. It is from this point on, that things get a bit more tricky.

What Happened? - The actual Massacre:

We start this portion of the post with an excerpt from La Fayette’s Memoirs to form a basis.

The affair of the Champ de Mars has been misrepresented with an extraordinary degree of audacity ; it became the pretext for the sufferings to which the magnanimity of the virtuous Bailly was so long exposed in that capital to which he had devoted himself during the whole course of a very difficult magistracy, with an affectionate and enlightened zeal. (…)

The 14th of July the anniversary of the confederation was celebrated. All appeared tranquil. But the 17th of July, a meeting took place in the Champ de Mars, to sign the petition drawn up by Laclos, and corrected by Brissot.

Two invalids, who, from a feeling of idle curiosity, had concealed themselves under the altar of the country, were seized ; their heads were cut off, and placed on two pikes, to be exhibited through the streets of Paris. The commander-in-chief [La Fayette] hastened to the spot, with a detachment of national guards. The rioters, with some ringleaders at their head, formed a barricade around themselves with carts ; across one of these carts a man pointed a musket at the commander-in-chief, but it missed fire. The national guards, springing over the barricade seized the culprit, and dragged him towards the commander-in-chief, who ordered him to be set at liberty. It is well known that the jacobins imputed the deliverance of this assassin to a concerted scheme, until he came forward, himself to boast of his conduct at the bar of the convention. The people who surrounded the altar, and some of those who were in the Champ de Mars, promised the commander and two commissaries of the commons to separate, after having peaceably signed the petition, for no person had ever thought of opposing that signature.

Several hours thus passed ; a detachment of the national guard had been stationed outside the Champ de Mars to watch over any hostile movements that might occur, and it was thought at the Hotel de Ville that all would pass quietly, when some persons came to denounce to the assembly the real projects of the rioters against the assembly itself. They intended doing what has been done since, on the 10th August, 31st May, and 4th prairial.

The national assembly decreed that the mayor of Paris should take measures to secure their safety, that of the Tuileries, and of the capital. It was in consequence of the unanimous injunctions of that same assembly that the mayor of Paris and the council of the commune published martial law. M Bailly sallied forth at the head of a battalion of grenadiers, which performed duty each day at the Hotel de Ville, to proceed, as a reserve corps, to the place in which public order was most disturbed ; the commander-in-chief, to whom information of this step was given, joined them on the road.

They presented themselves before the entrance of the Champ de Mars, and were received with a shower of stones ; some fire-arms were also used ; a pistol was fired at the mayor whom the ball narrowly missed, when he was on the point of making his proclamation. During this attack, the national guard fired in the air to avoid wounding any one ; but the assailants, emboldened by this moderation redoubled their attack against the municipal officers and national guards, of whom some were wounded, and amongst the number an aide-de-camp ; two volunteer chasseurs were killed ; the national guard then fired in earnest. The loss that ensued on the part of the assailants has been most grossly exaggerated ; the rioters were dispersed principally by the cavalry, who did not use their arms.

 All the events that he describes, happened that way - it is however questionable if they happened exactly that way. What also comes to mind is La Fayette’s phrasing of the events: he wrote that the National Guard did certain things but never what his actual orders were. This vague language is quite crucial in understanding his part in the whole event. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

In short, while we can be reasonably sure that somebody did indeed shot at La Fayette, we can not be completely sure if that happened during the first or second encounter between the Guard and the crowed. La Fayette would not have gained much from placing the attack on him at an earlier hour so we are going to believe him with that. It is also unsure how much time exactly passed when La Fayette wrote “several hours”. But these details are rather minor and even if they were wrongly reported, do not change the outlook on the event as a whole. More interesting is the question about the declaration of Martial Law. La Fayette presents it as if he had nothing to do with it while other sources claim that he was among the men urging Mayor Bailly to do so.

On to the most interesting part. Who gave the order to fire and when was this order given?

La Fayette claims that the he and his guard were attacked with stones and that during this attack he ordered his men to fire warning shots into the air (in his memoirs he is not as clear about it as in earlier statements were he admitted that he ordered his men to fire into the air - but solely into the air). Other accounts say that the crowed only threw stones after the guardsmen had shot at them while again different sources claim that the soldiers never fired into the air but directly at the people. Whatever happened, at one point the Guard did indeed fire at the people. Now, La Fayette was eminent that he never gave that order - and I think I believe him. Such an action would not be typical for him. But who could have given the order? Some sources state that Bailly gave the order and because he was Mayor, the National Guard followed his order. Again, other reports state that nobody gave the order and that the soldiers just fired on their own.

I find all of these reports questionable. The most logical explanation would be that La Fayette, as commander-in-chief gave the command. But as I stated earlier, I have great trouble imaging that … maybe I am biased but I just can not see La Fayette giving such a command. I also do not believe that Bailly gave the order. I could imagine that the Guard shot on its own. Maybe one of the men was frightened and pulled the trigger, maybe even by accident or in an act of self-defence, and his comrades followed suite, thinking that there had been an order - then again, what are the probabilities of that happening?

Several sources mention that La Fayette tried to stop his troops as soon as he realised what had happened. One report even claimed that he physically put himself between the crowed and a cannon that was about to be fired. He did not however mention any of these actions in his Memoirs. If there was massacre on the civilian population and you tried to prevent or at least end this massacre, you would mention that in your Memories, would you not?

Where does of all of that leaves us? In the worst case, La Fayette actively ordered his guards to fire into a mostly unarmed civilian crowed. In the “best” case, La Fayette did not order the massacre himself but had too little control and influence over his own troops that he could not prevent the event from happening. Because, as Tom Chaffin put it in his book Revolutionary Brothers:

Whatever actually happened that day, the gunfire escalated into a lethal fusillade that left many demonstrators dead or wounded.

In any event, La Fayette was judged severely by the public.

The number of victims of the Champ de Mars massacre vary dramatically. Contemporary sources state that there were several thousand victims while modern scholars estimate the number of dead between 50 and 100 and the number of wounded between 100 and 1000. It is however next to impossible to ever be able to determine these numbers correctly.

The immediate public and political reactions on and after the 17th varied widely but were generally devastating for La Fayette. I may make an extra post about the reactions because otherwise this post would get too long. As a last thought, I want to quote from the Memoirs of La Fayette’s youngest daughter, Virginie, how she remembered that day.

The Jacobins raised on the 17th of July a considerable outbreak. The brigands commenced by murdering two men. Martial law was proclaimed. It is difficult to form an idea of my mother's mortal anguish while my father was in the Champ de Mars exposed to the rage of an infuriated multitude which dispersed crying out that my mother must be put to death and her head carried to meet him. I remember the fearful cries we heard, I remember the alarm of every body in the house, and above all my mother's joy at the thoughts that the brigands who were coming to attack her were no longer surrounding my father in the Champ de Mars. While embracing us with tears of joy, she took every necessary precaution against the approaching danger with the greatest calmness and above all with the greatest relief of mind. The guard had been doubled, and was drawn up before the house, but the brigands were very near entering my mother's apartment by the garden looking upon the place du Palais-Bourbon, and were already climbing the low wall which protected us, when a body of cavalry passed on the place and dispersed them.

[hawkeyedflame]

In your head did Roy and Riza fall for each other right away or was it a slow burn? If it's the latter then when did they realize their feelings?

Literally don't even look at me, I don't know.

Rating: Gen | Words: 1,368 | AO3

They were always friendly with each other while Roy studied under her father, but they didn't define themselves as friends. She cooked, he was polite and helped with chores when he had time. He accompanied her to the market to help carry the groceries home. They talked when they were near each other, but they didn't go out of their way to make time. They didn't stay up all night deep in conversation, nor did they go for aimless walks in the woods together. They worked together if she needed his help, and chatted lightly. He did not consider for a moment altering his path to accommodate her into his future (they simply weren't that close), but he enjoyed her companionship when he happened to have it as they lived their separate lives, side by side. He is four years older than her, after all.

She missed him more than she expected to, when he left for the academy. The house felt less alive, and somewhere in her heart, she did too, although she couldn't place why.

Roy was the closest thing she had to a friend, and her father knew that. And even though he was angry with Roy for choosing to go into the military, he still told Roy that Riza possessed his flame alchemy, still stood by his decision that Roy should be his successor, if Riza found him suitable.

And she did find him suitable. It was in those weeks of Roy studying her tattoo, helping her sort out her father's estate and go through his belongings that they truly bonded. She needed a friend so badly, someone to share her grief with, and after all it's pretty hard to sit in a room with someone for hours on end and not eventually talk to them. Riza told him about her mother, about growing up in this empty house that was no longer a home, how her skin burned where the tattoo needle carved arcs and channels into her back. Roy listened, and he hurt for her. He told her how his parents died when he was young, how his aunt was his only family, how he hated the conflicts at the borders and how he wanted to protect the citizens of Amestris as a state alchemist.

Riza stood in the backyard, arms curled tightly against her chest as she watched Roy test his arrays. She knew every failed transmutation meant more hours spent sitting on the couch rifling through alchemical texts looking for anything that might help him as he pored over his notes, occasionally cross-referencing her tattoo, careful not to brush his fingers against the skin. It was dull work, but when he finally got it right, when a brilliant arc of flame lit up the late evening sky, she felt his excitement as strongly as she felt her own sadness. Because this meant he was leaving soon, and somehow he had taken up a spot in her chest that she hadn't even known was empty.

Something felt different when he left to take his exam. She felt, suddenly, like they'd meet again. She couldn't explain why. She walked him to the train station and he hugged her and it was such a natural thing even though they'd never hugged before, and in that moment she wanted something but whatever it was, he did not give it to her. He could not have.

Riza went home and enlisted in the military that same day. They made an exception for her age, because she would be 17 early in the semester. She met Rebecca at the academy, and though they became fast friends, Rebecca never managed to convince Riza to go on any double dates with her on the weekends. Riza would politely decline, and Rebecca would pout, but never push the issue.

-

She didn't expect her next encounter with Roy Mustang would be through the scope of her sniper rifle. She'd heard that the state alchemists had been brought in, but she didn't want to believe that he would be among them. She knew she was deceiving herself; she had seen the smoke, she knew it couldn't be anyone else. Still, when she shot the Ishvalan descending on Roy and his companion, she felt bile rise in her throat, and it had nothing to do with the man she'd just killed.

And god she was angry. She was so, so angry. But with whom, she couldn't say. Roy, her father, the military, this fucking desert, all of it. It didn't last long; Roy found her in camp later, and she could see in his eyes what she'd been burying in herself. The anger fell out through the bottom of her chest, and the vacuum it left behind nearly choked her with grief. That night she curled up in her cot and, for the first time since she'd set foot in Ishval, she cried.

For six long months, Riza worked adjacent to, but rarely with, Major Mustang. On the days she was assigned to watch over his sector while his unit worked, she kept her senses sharper than usual. Perched in her sniper tower, she refused to avert her eyes from the hellfire of the flame alchemist. Every day she swallowed the emotions that soldiers couldn't afford to have, and every night she laid awake in bed, trying to understand how she’d gotten here.

On the official withdrawal day, he found her again (he'd gotten really good at that), burying an Ishvalan child. She wanted to hate him, she really did. But she knew she couldn't hate him as much as she hated herself. And she still needed him. She asked him to mutilate her back, to destroy her father's life work, to set her free. It was a deception. She could never be free. Her mistakes already caused suffering beyond her capacity to atone with her short, worthless human life. But he agreed, though it caused him great pain, and she knew at that moment that he was still an honorable man.

She returned to the academy to finish her final year, and the months passed in a haze. Her back healed slowly, but her emotions fought to remain as raw as they had been for the past eighteen months despite her best efforts. Rebecca didn't even try to ask her on dates anymore, nor did she ask about the war. Riza told her only the safe things to say, and left out all the rest. She didn't bat an eye when Riza announced she planned to apply for an adjutant position in eastern command, under the illustrious Flame Alchemist, who had risen through the ranks quickly and was in want of an assistant as he built up his team. Rebecca did and did not understand this decision, and wisely refrained from asking, not that Riza would have known how to explain.

When she received Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang's summons a mere day after she'd submitted her request, she knew she had the job. Still, apprehension settled deeply in her gut as she knocked on his office door. She withdrew into the strict professionalism she had grown into so easily in the academy; it had always suited her natural demeanor anyways. She had anticipated his surprise, but she was not prepared for his forwardness: she would be in charge of his back. To protect him, or to remove him. Riza did not misunderstand the blatant admission of trust. The ache in her chest eased a little.

When Riza thinks about it years later, she doesn't really know when she fell in love with him. There was no pinpoint, no flashbulb moment. It came quiet, certain, steady and sure. She had always been his, and though it took a little longer for her to understand, he had always been hers, too. She'd never asked, because it was not the appropriate thing to do, and he had never told. But when she met his eye across the office, when he brought her a second cup of coffee on a busy morning, when they said their goodnights as he dropped her off on those days they'd worked past dark, she could feel it.

Their love, simply was.

[catxsnow]

SAME SIDE R.H.

Summary: Based on the song same side by Jessie Reyes. In which Roy Harper thinks he’s knows what’s best for you after a lifetime together

Warning: Drug abuse, withdrawals, mentions of blood, angst 

A/N: I love writing for Roy PLEASE when requests open again send some for him. 

Word Count: 4.1k

How come I can't leave ya? Talk to myself at night, wonderin' why I feel like I am tied down to someone Who's makin' me cry more than makin' me smile

Roy Harper had been apart of your life for as long as you could remember. He was there when you picked up your first bow. When you had your first night out along side him and Oliver. When you had your first victory and your first defeat. There was no one you would rather have by your side than Roy.

When he was Speedy and you were his partner, there seemed to be nothing that the two of you couldn't accomplish together. Oliver might not have loved either of you going off on your own, but side by side he couldn't have a worry in the world. He trusted the two of you to keep each other safe, and for the longest time, you did.

No matter what situation you got yourself into, Roy was always the one to give you a hand. There was never a time that you doubted his ability to save you. He saved you from broken arrows, but he never seemed to be able to save you through broken hearts. He couldn't save you from himself.

Growing up, it was impossible not to fall in love with your best friend. Roy had a charm to him that was impossible to ignore. A classic tale of friends to lovers. You became inseparable on and off the field. Late nights taking bad guys down and even later nights stuck between the sheets of your bed.

Roy was a lover - and for the longest time he was a damn good one too. He was selfless to strangers, and to you he would do anything to make you happy. With him it seemed like forever wasn't long enough. Forever was your always with him, until it wasn't. Until Roy wasn't your always.

He couldn't save you from the times that he fell into a dark hole. He couldn't save you when his life became too preoccupied with drugs and alcohol. Most importantly, you couldn't save him from himself either. No matter how hard you tried, Roy always fell back to those roots.

No matter how many nights you were left yelling and crying over him coming home do you so high he could barely walk, you couldn't leave him. Roy had been part of your life for as long as you had known, leaving him seemed harder than anything you ever had to do. You couldn't, not when he needed you. Not when you still loved him.

Night after night he came back to you crying at how you had lost him. Roy no longer thrived to save the innocents. He didn't care what happened to himself, and not in the selfless kind of way that you once admired. The Roy that you had fallen in love with was gone, and you weren't sure if you were ever going to get him back.

It broke you to see him fill you with broken promises of trying to fix himself. Pleads and cries that he would always need you more than he needed those stupid drugs. No matter how many promises he made, he never could fix himself. He never wanted to fix himself. It was easier to feel nothing that the pain of memories of the life you lived together.

The life that you had to bare just as badly as he did.

Just make it through the night Lyin' to myself, sayin' I'll be fine I don't want you, I hate you, I think But I don't wanna be alone either

"I'm tired of this Roy! I can't keep going on like this!"

He promised he'd quit for good this time. After years of ups and downs you knew not to believe his promises. For some damned reason you did this time, only to be disappointed again. It was weeks that he was clean. Even if it was hard, you started seeing tiny glimpses of the Roy you once knew.

You spent every moment with him as he tried to better himself. Early mornings of finding him heaving over the toilet. Mid-day shakes that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he focused on them to stop. Night after night of his tossing and turning, unable to sleep or stay still. Every step of the way, you were there.

Roy seemed to bet getting better. He fell asleep at night holding onto you without the hours of endless insomnia. The shaking in his hands and legs had improved so much that he could hold his bow again. He was good, he was getting there. Most importantly you were proud of him and happy to have him back.

Until you noticed that the reason he was getting better, was because he wasn't getting better at all. Roy had been in a good mood - one that had got him dragging you to your bathroom and filling the tub with water. He had been having a lot of baths lately - the hot water helping with his tensed muscles and clouded mind.

Sitting in the bath with him filled you with a happiness in your chest that you hadn't felt in years. As simple as that moment was, it meant everything to you. But Roy's everything stemmed from the piece of packaging you found forgotten behind the toilet. Packaging for needles.

His faced drained of everything as you reached for it. The happy smile on your face fell to a cold look. Roy didn't have time to explain himself before you were out of the bath and reaching for your towel. He was only strides behind you as you marched to your room. Fury ran through you. He lied.

Roy wasn't getting better, he was falling right back to his old routine after weeks - months - of torture. No matter what, you told him that you would be there right by his side as long as he stayed honest with you. Instead, he lied to your face - for god knows how long too.

"(Y/N)-" Roy tried. The towel was tightly wrapped around his waist, pathetically watching as you reached for clothes to throw on. "Please, just..."

"Just what, Roy?" You snapped. The hoodie you pulled over your head belonged to him and you couldn't have even been bothered to notice. He did. "I asked you to be straight with me this time! No lies, no deceit, just the truth. With everything that we've been through together I thought you would understand. I know this is hard bu-"

"But you don't know!" Roy suddenly blew up. It was a cycle that you were constantly thrown into. Someone lies, someone gets mad, everyone gets frustrated. Years of heartbreak with him but refusing to leave each others sides. It always seemed easier to stay, and now... now you weren't so sure. "You're not the one who has to go through all this shit! You're not the one who's so fucking dependent on this.. this toxin!"

"You did it to yourself! You did it because you hated the person you were becoming and you couldn't fucking accept my help!" You countered. The words hurt you as soon as they left your lips. Blaming Roy was never something you did because you knew how guilty he felt for getting to the place that he was in. "Fuck, Roy... You know I didn't mean it like that."

You reached for his hands, sighing as he flinched away from you. Your arms dropped back to your sides, head tilted to the ground and ashamed too look up at him. All your years together, you never accused him of putting himself in this place - truth was, he knew you were right. It only hurt him more.

"I didn't want to lie to you," He whispered. It physically hurt him to lie to your face. You deserved the truth, and he just couldn't bare to see your disappointment again. He had seen that look too many times. "I'm tired of putting you in this position. You deserve better than me. You've always deserved better than me."

"Don't say that," your gaze turned to the shake in his hand. Roy clenched his fist trying to get it to stop but with no avail. You threaded your arms around him, tucking your head into his still wet chest. He was thinner than he was when you first left Oliver to become your own team. "You've always been the one."

You're such an asshole, but I see a prince And I'm a good girl, but you see a bitch I wanna make love, you wanna burn a bridge

Roy knew better. He knew that you deserved a life outside of his. He wanted that for you. Happiness everyday, not having to worry about him or even the life of a vigilante. If anyone in this world deserve freedom from the weights dragging them down, it was you.

So, as he tried to better himself - for what felt like the hundredth time - he tried to make it easier on. Unfortunately, he did it in the only way that he knew how. Roy pushed you away, just like he pushed Oliver and the Titans away too. You never thought he would stoop low enough to get rid of you.

Late nights out on his own - sometimes as Arsenal, sometimes as Roy. When you woke up in the morning he was already gone. You never saw him during the day and unless you woke in the middle of the night, you didn't see him in the evenings either. Roy was pushing you far away from.

His disappearance led to more fights. Fights that he edged on for the sole reason that it seemed easier to let you go if you hated him. The only flaw in his plan was that no matter how hard he tried, you couldn't hate him. If you did, you would have left him years ago.

Instead, he had to leave you. Roy was gone one morning. His bow and arrows packed up, the few possessions he cared about. The chain that you had given him that he couldn't bare to wear unless he was clean. You woke up to a cold bed and a broken heart.

You knew this was coming. Roy had been hinting at it for days without having to say anything at all. Sometimes he forgot how well you knew him. Sometimes he choose to forget to make it easier on himself. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but in the long run he knew it to be worth it.

It was the first time in weeks that Roy had gone to bed the same time as you. He wore only his boxers to bed, arms tucked behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Weeks of not talking to one another. Weeks of missing him, missing his touch. Roy hadn't been the same since that night you caught him lying.

Maybe that night, maybe he was ready to go back to himself and try again. Maybe he was ready. You rolled over in your bed, cuddling into his side and embracing the little amount of warmth he had. Roy didn't tense up at your touch, but he didn't make a move to accept your embrace either.

Feather-light touches dragging along his chest, over his scars and flaws. He didn't seem to mind you doing it, so you continued. You leaned into him more, kissing the places you once trailed your fingers again. Legs pulling over to straddle either side of him. You left a line of kisses up his chest, his neck until finally reaching his lips.

Before you could even brush yours against them, Roy gripped your hips. You expected him to urge the movement of them. Instead, he guided you off of him, going back to his original laying space. He couldn't look you in the eye - why did you expect him to be able to kiss you as well?

That was the night you knew

Leaving you was impossible for him. You were all he ever knew for his whole life. Leaving you meant losing a part of himself. 

"Roy you can't keep coming home like this." Barely able to stay awake, blood dripping from what seemed like every inch of skin that was visible. Bruises littered his face and you were sure his torso was the same as well. There had been several nights where he had come back to you like this.

He sat silently as you stitched him up. Silent as he had been all week. Avoiding your calls and texts of wondering when he was going to come home. Roy hung his head low, unable to speak, or to look at you. Whatever was running through his head, you would never get to know.

As soon as the last stitch was done you stood up from your chair. Roy remained where he was. You stood in front of him, placing your finger under his chin to get him to finally look up at you. Tears brimmed his eyes and you knew it wasn't from the pain of the stitches or the wounds.

You kissed his forehead, lingering against his skin for what felt like the first time in months. To your surprise, Roy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His head nuzzled into your torso and he suddenly couldn't bare the thought of letting you go. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Go shower baby," you instructed. Roy's arms dropped to his sides and he nodded at your request. You waited in bed for him that night. Through the sound of him standing in the shower for nearly an hour. Hearing him shuffle around - but never making his way to your bed. To you.

So I wish I was a bad guy So we could just be fightin' on the same side

Patrol had become a lot more dangerous. No one to watch you back, no one to save you if you were to fail. It pained you at the thought of going back to Oliver to ask for his help. That bridge had been long burned when you left with Roy. Now that Roy had left you... it felt natural to go back to your mentor.

As badly as you wanted to, Oliver wouldn't want to see you. He made that clear last time you saw him. Maybe he deserved to know you and Roy split ways - maybe he just didn't care at all.

It took a while getting used to being out there without Roy by your side. It seemed to get easier as time passed until stumbling upon his broken arrows every once in a while. Broken arrows, tried up blood, torn pieces of his suit. He was getting himself into more trouble than ever before and he didn't have you to pick him back up.

Years and years you were always fighting on the same side, not it felt as if he had pitted you against one another. Fighting to stay alive and stay apart. It was eating him alive having to do both.

Some days you wondered if it would be easier to be just like him. Endure the same struggles just so he wouldn't have to alone - or deal with the pain that you had because of his. Maybe if you were the same, he'd still be with you. Maybe you could have worked together to be better versions of yourself.

Maybe you would have dragged each other farther down the endless pit that never could be crawled out of.

Roy didn't have your hand to reach for anymore, he was in that pit all by himself.

You said all your goodbyes You said that you would be out my life If I could just let you go, let you be on your own But, love, I need ya

Roy Harper had been in your life for so long that you didn't know how to live without him. Years of relying on him with everything and through everything. He was always there to help you, no matter what. You were there for him - it was the basis of your relationship. No one left to fend for themselves.

So, why did he leave? Why did he feel the need to abandon you when he needed you the most. Always. Always you stayed by him - why did he think you wouldn't want to do that now? He was the one who pushed himself away, he was the one that decided he didn't need you anymore.

Roy had done a damn good job of making you hate him - or at least making you think you did. He burned his bridge with you long before he left. Maybe to him it seemed easier. Or maybe he was just a damn fool who thought you were better off without him. Roy was a cinderblock on your ankle in the middle of the ocean.

But he wasn't. He was far from that. Roy was your life craft. He was the one that kept you afloat and safe from the unknown depths of the water. He kept you sane, even if he drove you insane with his actions. The world that you lived together, the horrors you saw - he was the only one to understand.

Without him you had no one. What was left to fight for when your home was empty. He didn't need you anymore, but that didn't mean that you didn't need him. It was a time of bottom of liquor bottles and reckless behavior. No longer caring if you had gotten an extra hit or cut on you.

Roy watched over you. He always kept an eye out to make sure you were alright - and as time went on he only saw you get worse and worse. It pained him to see you like this, so broken and so lost of hope. Watching you made him realize just how much he had put you through.

The line of whether or not he would be helping or hindering you by coming back began to fade. He wasn't clean, he wasn't back to the man that you fell in love with. But watching you continue down this path? He couldn't bare the thought of having you fall to the same level that he was in.

"Roy..."

He couldn't let you fail like he did. No matter what he put you through, all the shit he had done to you before leaving - he knew you hated him for it. Roy didn't care how much you hated him, he couldn't let you do this to yourself. Even if it meant that you would hate him for good for coming back - he didn't care.

Roy loved you too much to see you suffering like this. Which was why he stood at your front door, months after leaving it for the last time. You both looked awful - bags under the eyes, an evident loss of muscle, ratted hair. Being away had harmed you both, something that you had known that would happen.

"You can't do this to yourself," he spoke as if you hadn't been months apart. As if he still had the right to tell you how you should take care of yourself - as if he ever had that right. He looked at the stash of bottles littering your table, counter, even scattered on the floor. "You're going down a path that you're not going to get back from."

"Fuck you," you tried to slam the door. He stopped it with the palm of his hand, pushing himself into the place he called home with you for years. "You're the last person that's allowed to come here to tell me how to live my life! Of all people-"

"Of all people I'm the one that you should listen to the most," Roy cut you off. "Of all people, you should know exactly what it means to follow this path."

"You left Roy," You turned away from him. It was harder than you ever expected to see him again. Nights of craving for him to be back with you, yearning for his touch. None of it seemed to matter now that he was really here. You were just reminded of the pain he induced to you. "You left me."

He did. And fuck was it hard. Not having you be there to remind him what life was worth living for tore him to pieces. He knew that his journey ahead of him was going to be a hard one alone, but if it meant not making you suffer anymore... it had to be worth it. He never expected you to fall like this.

You were always the strong one. Always the one to be there whenever he needed for whatever fucked reason. Maybe he was too preoccupied in his own struggles that he never noticed yours. Truth was, it was easy to ignore them when you could focus on him instead.

"I thought..." He tried to say that it would be easier. Obviously, it wasn't for either of you. "I know you deserve better than me. You weren't going to make that choice, so I did."

"You had no right to make that choice!" You spun around to face him. Hot, angry tears strolled down your cheeks. "You pushed me away and never told me why! How... how was I supposed to live with myself not knowing why the person that's been at my side through everything just picked up and left me."

"I'm sorry," Roy dropped his head. You knew his guilty look. Caving into himself, making him look smaller than he already was. Refusing to meet your eyes but so desperately needing to. Hands in his pockets because otherwise he doesn't know what to do with them. Lips in a thin line.

This was by far the worst look you had seen him give. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him. You could see the shaking in his limbs but that easily could have been from the withdrawals he was forcing himself through. It was hard before, but it was near impossible without you at his side.

"I told myself I wasn't coming back, not until I was clean for good."

"And are you?" Obviously, he wasn't. You could see that he wasn't good yet.

"I'm trying," Roy's voice cracked. He looked up at you beneath the brim of his ball cap. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from sobbing. "You always tried so hard with me and I could never prove myself to you. I hoped... I hoped that if I could do it by myself that maybe you'd be proud of me for once."

He watched you cross the room to stand in front of him. Your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears. It was easy to understand the reasoning behind why he left, you just wished that he wasn't stupid enough to believe that it was true. Stupid enough to think that after a lifetime together that you could be pushed away in only a few weeks.

"I've always been proud of you, Roy," You whispered. "I've always been here for you. You didn't have to leave, or push me away, to try and better yourself to make me proud. I didn't want you to."

Roy couldn't take the separation any longer. He flung into your arms, nuzzling into the cook of your neck. The faint smell of liquor rolled off your skin, but underneath he felt back at home with you. You were his home, not this half-ass apartment or under any roof. It was you.

"I'm sorry," He repeated. You felt him relax as you wrapped your arms around him. Suddenly, all that anger that you had at him for leaving, it washed away. Roy needed you, and you would be there for him whether he wanted you to be or not. "Please..." He tried to get the words out but his voice got caught in his throat.

He was home in your arms, just as you had wanted it to be. Roy quickly realized his mistake of leaving you. Months of working back up to gain your trust again, of doing his best to finally quit for you. He was going to be the best version of himself being back with you because that was what you deserved.

It didn't matter what version you had - all you needed was him.

"I'm here, my love, I'm here."

I'm sorry, made this world in my head I'm sorry I don't wanna quit this yet I'm sorry, I swear that I tried my best I'm sorry, can you be sorry instead?

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

World War Z was published in 2006, but takes place in 2009 at the earliest.  Late in the book, astronaut Terry Knox states that the International Space Station took over 10 years to complete; it started construction in November 1998, and Chief of Staff Karl Rove Grover Carlson says that the Republican party barely eked back into power after a disastrous 2-termer who started a “brush fire war” in the Middle East (George W. Bush).  He mentions an election year, but he doesn’t specify if it was the new president’s first or second term, so it’s either set right after 2008 or 2012.  This was written before the Nintendo Wii was announced, but one chapter mentions that people brought their GameCubes with them as they fled their homes in search of safety in the frozen Canadian wilderness.  This same chapter also mentions that they didn’t know how to pick survival gear; a park ranger finds a SpongeBob SquarePants sleeping bag frozen in the mud because its owner didn’t know the difference between a child’s indoor sleeping bag for slumber parties and a real insulated survival bag for camping.

The new president is never named, he’s just told be be pro-big business and anti-regulation, pushing a placebo zombie vaccine through the FDA to jumpstart the economy.  When shit hits the fan, he is “sedated” and his vice president takes power; we’re never told what happened to the president, whether he was bitten or had a stroke, just that he was “sedated.”  His Vice President is directly implied to be Colin Powell; he’s former military with family in Jamaica and black.  He appoints Howard Dean to be his vice president to form a bipartisan coalition; he is never referred to by name, but it is clearly supposed to be Howard Dean.  He was a rising star in the Democratic party from Vermont whose wife is a doctor and whose career imploded after he had a passionate outburst.  In 2004, Howard Dean gave a speech where he started passinately screaming about how he was gonna start sweeping state primaries and ride a wave into the White House, punctuating his point by going “HHEEUEAHHGH!!”  This was political suicide in 2004, and he was laughed out of the race.  In the book, he is referred to only as “the Whacko” because of this.  It is implied that he was Powell’s second choice for VP, his first being Barack Obama; the Whacko says that the Democrats wanted somebody else, somebody of the same skin color as the president, but that the country wasn’t ready for that.  In 2004, Obama was a candidate for senate in Illinois, so popular and so well spoken that he gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention before he even won his seat; then and there, pundits already had him pegged as the first black president, they could see the writing on the walls.  The Whacko becomes president when Powell dies of stress, but he is consistently referred to only as the wartime Vice President, out of respect for his boss.

Also, the Attorney General is implied to be Rudy Giuliani; all that is said about him was that he was the mayor of New York and once tried to give himself emergency powers to stay in office after his term.  Giuliani did exactly that after 9/11.

Other real life figures mentioned in the book

Fidel Castro; a ton of Cuban Americans flee the continent and return to the island during the zombie war, and he jumpstarts the economy by putting them to work as cheap laborers and slowly integrating them back into Cuban society.  He rehabilitates his image by stepping down as dictator and democratizing the country, voting himself out of office before the “nortecubanos” could hang him for decades of war crimes.

Nelson Mendela, referred to by his birth name Rolihlahla, the father of modern South Africa, he personally invites Paul Redekker, a former apartheid era political analyst, to solve the zombie problem; in the 80s, Redekker created a plan for the white minority government in case the black majority ever rose up against them.  In real life, Mandela lowered the temperature when he was elected president, saying that revenge against the apartheid government would do more harm than good.  In the story, Mandela uses this as justification to reuse the apartheid era plan to handle the zombie outbreak instead.  Redekker is so overcome by his compassion and forgiveness that he has a mental episode and dissociates, believing himself to be a black South African.

Kim Jong-il, the dictator of North Korea, he withdraws all troops from the DMZ and shuts the entire country down.  After months of radio silence, it is revealed that the entire country’s population has vanished; all satellite imagery shows a desolate wasteland, no zombies, but no humans either. He presumably moved everyone into subterranean bunker systems where he not only control their lives as on the surface, but now their access to food, water, and air.  He presumably became the god emperor he always wanted to be; either that, or the entire tunnel complex has been overrun, turning every man woman and child in North Korea into zombies.  The South Korean government refuses to send a expedition into the North to figure out what happened, lest they open up one of the tunnels and unleash millions of zombies onto the surface.

Martin Scorsese, mentioned in passing only as “Marty,” a friend of world famous film director Roy Elliot, who himself is a thinly veiled pastiche of Steven Spielberg.  Interestingly enough, the audio book features Martin Scorsese doing the voice of the conartist who created the placebo vaccine

One chapter has a ton of vapid celebrities hole together in a fortified mansion on Long Island, and takes great care to show each of them getting torn apart not by zombies but by regular people who storm the facility because they were stupid enough to broadcast their location on reality television.  A redneck with a “Get’er Done” hat (Larry the Cable Guy) and some bald guy with diamond earrings (Howie Mandel) blow themselves up with a grenade.  Rival political commentators, an annoying guy who talks about feminization of western society and a leathery blonde (Bill Maher and Ann Coulter) have end-of-the-world viking sex as the facility burns to the ground.  A dumb starlet (Paris Hilton) is killed by one of her handlers and her little rat dog escapes on foot.  A radio shock jock (Howard Stern) actually survives the war and restarts his show.

Michael Stipe of REM joins the army to fight the zombies

Another war veteran mentions how his brother used to have a bunch of Mel Brooks’ old comedy skits on vinyl record, and how he and his squad acted out the “Boy meets Girl” puppet skit with some human skulls.  Mel Brooks is author and narrator Max Brooks’ father.

Queen Elizabeth II, refuses to evacuate England when the island is overrun by zombies.  She intends to remain in Buckingham Palace “for the duration,” mirroring the fact that her parents refused to evacuate to Canada during World War II.

Vladimir Putin declares himself Tsar of the Holy Russian Empire, an ultra-orthodox religious state that has armed priests execute political dissidents under the guise of mercy killing people who have been bitten by zombies.

Yang Liwei, the first “taikonaut” (Chinese astronaut) has a space station named after him

While the main conflict is about government responses to the zombie pandemic, we see glimpses of a greater war torn planet.

A major plot line involves a Chinese Civil War which sees the entire communist politburo nuked out of existence by a rebel sub commander, as well as an attempted “scorched space policy” where the government planned to blow up their space station with scuttling charges to cause a cascade of space debris to encircle the Earth and prevent any other countries from launching missions in the future (this is known as Kessler Syndrome in real life, and was featured as the inciting incident of the 2013 movie Gravity).  The People’s Republic becomes the United Federation.

Iran and Pakistan destroy each other in nuclear war; everyone thought it would be India and Pakistan, but they had very close diplomatic infrastructure in place to prevent such a catastrophe; Pakistan helped Iran build a nuclear arsenal, but as millions of refugees fled from India through Pakistan to the east, Iran had to blow up some Pakistani bridges to stem the flow of zombies, which led to a border war and eventually total nuclear retaliation.

Floridians flee to Cuba, Wisconsinites flee to Canada, the federal government flees to Hawaii.  Everything east of the Rockies is abandoned and ruled by warlords until the government sorts itself out and mounts an expedition to clear the continent of zombies by literally marching an unbroken line of soldiers stretching from Canada to Mexico across the wasteland to the Atlantic.

Israel withdraws from Gaza and the West Bank to become super isolationist, building a wall around the entire country to stop the zombies getting in (they were the first country to respond to the pandemic, and the most successful), but the religious right rebels against the secular left in a civil war that sees Jerusalem ceded to a unified Palestine.

It is an amazing, multifaceted story with so much going on that nobody recognizes.  It was written as a response to the end of the Cold War and the start of the War on Terror.  It’s about a geopolitical shift, a change in the status quo, a disaster from which the world never recovers; America before 9/11 was a very different place than American after 9/11.  Iraq and Afghanistan changed everything, and we’re still feeling their effects to this day; the story uses the zombie apocalypse as the next big international disaster the world must adapt to.  World War Z is World War III with zombies, and I think it would do a lot better if it were published today, now that we’ve had several decades to respond to the fall of the Soviet Union and the endless wars in the Middle East and a global pandemic.

[screensirenfic]

The Grandest Of Sins - Chapter 5 - That Which Burns Brightest

COLONEL ROY MUSTANG

THE FLAME ALCHEMIST

AGE: 29 YEARS OLD

To see his face staring back at her so blankly was strange for her. 

She had vowed she wouldn’t do this to herself - wouldn’t keep letting herself open old wounds so they bled all over, renewing that same pain she thought had forgotten long ago.

They were all in there; Breda, Havok, Fuery, Valman, Hawkeye. She’d even managed to dig up Abrams old file; though that was more for sentimental reasons than anything practical.

She shouldn’t even have these files. 

It was a risk even stepping foot back into Eastern; let alone breaking into the records room, but it was something she needed to do if she was going to do this thing right.

It had almost been too easy to don her old blues and just walk in the front door. Security was lax away from Central and the few guards they did have stationed there were green recruits who were still wet behind the ears and afraid to ask questions.

It had been even easier to just walk down those hallowed halls; memories hiding behind every corner as she retraced the steps she’d taken a thousand times before.

It would have been easier still to just keep going; to make her way to the end of the hall and into his office.

He’d probably still be working at that time; toiling away on paperwork he should’ve done hours ago, but had ignored anyway.

It would have been the easiest thing yet to cross that room in five long steps; to reach out and feel his soft skin under her fingertips, the slight scratch of stubble from where he’d forgotten to shave.

She’d let them trace the sharpness of his jawline, trail down to the hollow of his throat, then she’d wrap her fingers around his neck, feeling him begin to struggle as her tendrils started to squeeze-

“-This one looks like an easy kill…”

Her mind was jolted back to the present, Scar presenting a new file for her inspection; a head of long blonde hair and unusual golden eyes staring up at her.

EDWARD ELRIC

She swore the Alchemists were getting younger every year, or maybe she was just getting older..?

THE FULL METAL ALCHEMIST

Well; at least it wasn’t another Weapons Specialist.

AGE: 14 

“He’s a child.”

She remarked, almost stunned that the military had grown so desperate, it was recruiting mere babes into its ranks.

“He’s a State Alchemist.”

Scar replied; the clear differentiation between soldier and adolescent meaning nothing to the Holy man.

“He wouldn’t of even remembered Ishbal; let alone served…”

She shook her head; a large part of her refusing to allow the lives of children to be dragged into their quest for vengeance.

“How many children died because of what those military dogs did?”

Scar asked, and she knew he was right. 

There were no innocents when it came to the uniform. Even those who could not remember had a part to play in the war to come.

“Still; there’s no reason we should go after him now…”

She objected, moving his file to the back of the pile so she could withdraw another.

“What about this one? Shou Tucker; The Sewing Life Alchemist?”

She asked, pulling out a file of a creepy looking man with short hair and glasses.

“Was he in Ishval?”

Scar asked; his mind sent back once more to the horrors of their shared past.

“Says he’s only been instated for the past two years…”

She read; eyes scanning over a glowing commendation for his initial assessment. 

“He’s a researcher of some sort... with a background in Bio Alchemy… One daughter… No wife…”

She skimmed over the details of his experiments, much of the information redacted from the less classified archives, until she reached one particularly interesting piece of information.

“It says he was successful in making a talking Chimera..!”

She exclaimed; the odds of failure in such a dangerous and unpredictable transmutation far too risky for a family man to take.

“An abomination against God…”

Scar muttered, and she could tell he liked the thought of ending his life already.

“Let’s pay The Sewing Life Alchemist a visit and put an end to his research permanently.”

—————————————————-

“I swear if we have to ride any longer; I’m going to have a permanent indent in the shape of a saddle on my a-“

Moaned Breda from the back of his horse; the red headed Sergeant loudly stating his displeasure of travelling on horseback for the past 8 hours.

“Enough complaining ; Sergeant Breda..!”

Barked Captain Mustang; his temper running short having listened to the Sergeant complain for the last half a mile. 

It was true that the hard riding across sand dune after sand dune was grating; the harsh desert sun particularly punishing as it glared down from overhead, but complaining would do little to change that.

Usually it would be Havoc that would temper the redhead’s intense dislike of travelling by anything that didn’t have wheels; the overgrown farm boy more comfortable with animals than most military men, but the blonde haired Sergeant’s attention was fully absorbed by the small and pretty passenger sat in the saddle in front of him.

Mustang hadn’t planned on transporting any extra bodies; live or otherwise, so the presence of their violet eyed stranger had proved to be a problem in terms of logistics.

They couldn’t well leave her in the desert. 

She was their sole witness and a possible suspect to boot; it wouldn’t do to leave behind their only possibility at answers, even if she’d had transport and a place to go.

So; instead it was decided someone should double up, and the infatuated Sergeant had been quick to offer her a seat on his saddle.

Now she was braced between the long arms of the smiling blonde, dressed head to toe in his borrowed clothes like some sort of distressed damsel he’d rescued from some long forgotten tower.  

The sight was almost domestic; Havoc puffing his chest out with some sort of misplaced masculine pride every time the girl leaned back into him; which was becoming increasingly common considering the skittish nature of his mount.

That was another thing that concerned the Captain.

Usually horses were happy around Havoc; the Sergeant’s familiarity around working animals putting the beasts of burden at ease with a matter of whispered words and gentle fingers, yet Havoc’s mount had almost been at the point bolting since they’d left.

Almost as if it didn’t like its newest passenger.

“Captain; up ahead.”

Called Hawkeye; drawing Mustang’s attention away from the happy couple, and onto the sight of black smoke billowing like hellfire up ahead.

[lastwagontrainhopper]

The tapestry of their skin

Written (late) for Royai Week 2020, prompt : Old wounds.

Summary: One day, when all this mess is behind them, Roy and Riza will have to explain to a curious kid how they managed to get so many scars.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24674746 (French version - the original one - also available on AO3)

--------

The Mustang’s house, with its two floors and its front garden, was surprisingly small considering the position Roy had held, but neither he nor Riza wanted to display their new fortune ostentatiously. They both knew the way Amestris had acquired its wealth, and using that blood money to buy something as superfluous as a mansion wouldn’t have sat well with them. Besides, what was the point of having a huge villa if it was for only two people?

They had moved in together as soon as they had been married, and had married as soon as they could; Roy had made sure of that. On the last day they had descended HQ’s main staircase, both ordinary citizens for the first time since their teenage years, he had got down on one knee and proposed, amidst the flow of working officers and traffic noise of the street close by.

Riza had raised an eyebrow, amused by the situation.

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?”

He had shrugged his shoulders with a grin.

“Maybe”, he had admitted sheepishly. “But I figured we’ve waited long enough.”

Riza had let out a chuckle. “Yes, that’s for sure.” Her eyes were shining. “And yes.”

They had kissed and embraced, enjoying the pleasure of doing it in public, and especially of doing so before the symbol of what had kept them apart for so long. And, just like that, they were gone, one arm wrapped around the other’s waist, before any officer passing by could realize that something incredible had just happened.

Their marriage had been equally modest, celebrated a few weeks later in a small country church. The event had not been kept secret, of course – they had had their fill of secrecy – but Riza loathed the idea of an official ceremony with great pomp and circumstance, and Roy had had enough of playing the public figure.

The newspapers had made mention of the event, but only the people on the short guest list had been able to attend the ceremony. For them, the wedding was no surprise – everyone who mattered to Roy and Riza already knew about their relationship – but it was rather a way to make it official, and mostly to celebrate their long years of work and patience. Weddings are usually the beginning of a journey ; this one felt more like the end of a story.

A perfectly happy ending, if it wasn’t for one detail.

They wouldn’t have dared to dream of it at the beginning of their relationship, following the Promised Day – even getting married seemed impossible back then – but as their lives progressed toward something almost normal, the idea of having children came up more and more in their minds. Of course, it would have to wait: a pregnancy would force Riza to withdraw from the military at least for a time, and it could lead to some troublesome questions if the baby turned out to look like a certain colonel. But above all, their careers were demanding and dangerous, and both had suffered too much from absent parents to risk inflicting this on their child. Therefore, they had agreed that if it were to happen, it would be at the reasonable moment, after Roy’s Führer reign.

Unfortunately, not all things in life can patiently wait for the right time.

By the time Riza reached her thirty-fifth anniversary as Roy was still only general, they realized that the reasonable moment might come too late.

Nonetheless, they kept hanging on to the small hope that it could happen. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time they would see something impossible happen before their eyes. Besides, they told themselves, some of the problems could be overcome – the Elric had offered to take care of one more kid, if necessary – and others would be worth it. If Riza ever got pregnant, they finally decided, they would make the decision at that time.

But that moment never came.

Maybe it was because of Riza, maybe it was because of Roy, or maybe they were just incompatible; neither of them bothered to find out. They saw a sort of poetic justice in the idea that their couple, which together had taken so many human lives, was not able to create one. Of course, they didn’t share that thought with anyone, not even with each other – but if there was one thing they shared, it was their love of mystical punishments.

So by the time they moved in their little house not far from Central, they had long given up on their dream of amber-eyed and black-haired children.

But after a few years spent tending to their wounds as best as they could, what they had thought impossible finally happened, though in a vastly different way than they expected. It took the form of a six-year-old boy whose mother, an Investigation officer, had died from a bomb in her apartment, and whose father had never been in the picture. No one from his maternal family had come forward to take him in, and his chances of adoption were slim : he was already too old for the taste of most couples, and the explosion that killed his mother had left a nasty scar on his face and arm.

A scarred child, orphaned by military service, with an absent father : the symbolism was so strong it seemed made on purpose, and Roy and Riza didn’t fail to notice it when they read the notice sent by HQ. They did not trust themselves enough to be good parents to have voluntarily tried adoption; but no one, no one, would want this child, they were told. Surely, they would be better than nothing?

And so Adrian – the boy’s name – came to live in their house not far from Central, which suddenly seemed even smaller.

When he first arrived, the child was silent and withdrawn, undoubtedly still in shock at the brutal way he had lost his mother. But Roy and Riza were better with kids than they gave themselves credit for : after all, they came to see Edward Elric’s children so often that they were seen as aunt and uncle – which had always had a bittersweet feeling to it. But above all, they understood the boy’s wounds better than anyone else. And so, over the course of the next months, thanks to the patient and attentive care of Roy and Riza, the kid started to open up.

His parents taught him many things. He learned that not all wounds were worn on the skin ; he also learned that none of them, visible or not, defined who he was. And he was surprised to discover that his parents had even more scars than he did.

One day where Riza was carrying him to bed, when he was eight years old, Adrian put a finger on the long white line that ran across her neck.

“Mom, how did you got that?” he asked curiously.

Riza simply smiled.

“Oh, that’s just an injury I got when I was in the military. It happened when I was fighting along with your dad.”

Adrian frowned, no satisfied. “Yes, but hooow?”

She sat him on the bed and crouched to be at his level.

“Adrian”, she started softly, “it’s not very polite to insist like that. Some people don’t want to say how they got their scars; that’s personal. “She tapped the lumpy mark that stretched across his left cheek with affection. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “But I don’t mind talking about it. You and Dad always say I should be proud of it and proud of what Mama was doing. And I prefer the people who ask.” He frowned, looking grouchy. “The people who don’t ask just stare at it, and I can tell that they want to know, but they don’t ask. That’s even more annoying.”

Riza tilted her head to the side, her expression softening.

“Ah, but you know that not everyone is as wise of you are, sweetheart.”

She kissed his forehead, put him to bed, and wished him good night. He never asked about it again.

But as Adrian was growing up, he began to realize that his parents had way more scars than the norm, even for people who had been in the military. Riza had her white mark across the neck, but there was also her right hand, with its stiff fingers who couldn’t properly bend and its painful joints. Roy’s hands weren’t much better, with their identical wound in the middle of the palm; and when he went bare-chested, the large burn on his left flank was impossible to miss.

But the worst one was the thin vertical gash he had on the right side of his torso: it was the worse, because it was the most painful one – preventing him from running and jumping comfortably – but also because every time it caused Roy to flinch in pain, Riza couldn’t hide her guilty expression. The remorse on her face was so powerful that Adrian almost started to believe that she was the one who stabbed him (could she be the one who stabbed him? His parents fought from time to time, but never to that extent…or so he thought).

And then, there was Riza’s back. Adrian had never seen it, and that was the strange part. Even when they went to the beach, she always kept a shawl or a sweater to cover it. Knowing his parent’s history, he couldn’t think of any other reason to hide it than the presence of yet another scar, surely a particularly repulsive one.

Despite his curiosity, he never asked about any of their wounds, and they never brought up the subject. He had a vague idea of what his parents had lived through, like everyone in the country – Ishval’s civil war, the Promised Day, the Aerugo Invasion. And his parents liked to reminisce about their time in the military, but it was always about the mundane moments : the discussion with their squad, the Elric brothers’ visits, the mountain of paperwork Riza had to threaten Roy into signing.

But Adrian knew his parents hadn’t received all their injuries by filling out paperwork.

And yes, he knew that Roy and Riza were more than just their scars, but those injuries were still part of them, part of their lives ; not knowing where they came from, or not being trusted to even see them sometimes made him feel like he didn’t know his own parents.

And he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Roy and Riza would have been more open about their past had he been their real son.

When he was 14, Adrian touched on the topic with Edward, during one of their visits to the Elric. Even though his children were about his age, Edward was much younger than his parents, and often acted like an old cousin rather than an uncle. More importantly, he loved telling the stories he and his brother had lived, even though Adrian suspected him of omitting certain details.

Edward didn’t have much to say at the time ; but a few weeks later, his parents called him in the living room with a serious look on their face, and Adrian suspected that Ed must have had something to do with it.

They had a heart-to-heart discussion like they rarely had in their family – Adrian had certainly inherited their tendency to keep his real emotions far below the surface – and when they were finished, the three of them with tight throats and slightly watery eyes, Roy coughed a few times and finally put his joints hand on the table.

“So…which story do you want to hear today?”

“We would probably point out,” Riza added while attempting a smile, “that we’re certainly not as good at storytelling than Edward.”

Adrian thought about it for a moment. He knew his father would be more willing to share than his mother, and wanted to start out with something light. His hands’ wounds had always unsettled him – a scar could be accidental, but two of them, exactly at the same place, had something more sinister, more…deliberate. He wouldn’t dare to ask about the gash on his torso: he could guess it was related to a particularly painful memory for the both of them.

“Your burn, on the ribs,” he finally chose.

To his relief, Roy grinned.

“Well, I must say that you, my son, have a taste for the spectacular.” (Riza looked up at the sky : “I wonder where he got that from”.) Roy glanced at her mischievously. “This story is also the first time your mother shed tears for me.”

“And certainly, the last one”, she completed in a neutral tone. “Come on now, start, or we’ll be here all day.”

[halictus-writer]

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 4 of 5)

Remus woke early the next morning, feeling energetic. He brewed a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at his table/desk combination to work on his novel. Safely wrapped in an oversized sweater, he opened the window to let the fresh cold morning air in. It wasn’t until he had settled comfortably into a workflow and even lit a cinnamon-scented candle before he remembered that he should probably still be upset over being blown off from a dinner date last night.

Instead, he felt strangely at peace. Going to the Italian restaurant, laughing with Sirius, and eating pizza had seemed to wash away his troubles, and he wasn’t going to complain if it took a surprisingly short amount of time to feel normal again. After writing a chapter and a half, it was time to leave for his breakfast with the girls.

As Remus walked out of his apartment building, he tossed his jacket over his shoulder and almost skipped down the sidewalk–– tiramisu safely in hand–– with joy. Something about the day just felt good.

Walking into the breakfast nook, he spotted his friends already seated at a table.

“Marls! Dorcas!” He greeted them warmly, giving each of them a side-hug.

Dorcas responded with a “Hey, babe!” While Marlene fixed him with a look.

“You,” she said, index finger pointing at his chest, “are absolutely glowing.”

Remus’s cheeks began to turn red, a lingering side effect of any attention whatsoever being directed towards him. His smile stayed in place though. “What, no I’m not.”

“Why do you look so happy?”

“Also,” he drew out the word, talking over Marlene, “I brought you a gift!” Remus handed over the box containing last night’s tiramisu, previously concealed by his jacket.

“Oh my god, this looks so good.” Dorcas said, eyeing the dessert.

Marlene started to close the box again when Dorcas made a noise of protest. “What?” She asked, laughing. “We have to wait until after we eat breakfast.”

“No we most certainly do not, we are adults!” Dorcas protested, and reopened the box.

Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of them, updating each other on the events of the past week. For every minute of serious conversation, there seemed to be two more of random banter, staccatoed with flicking straw wrappers and play-fighting when Dorcas or Marlene wanted to prevent the other from telling a funny story at the expense of her girlfriend. After Marlene all but tackled Dorcas to successfully pass her phone to Remus–– displaying a video of a wine-drunk Dorcas driving backwards in Mario Kart, her face dropping in shock when Marlene’s voice from behind the camera points out that she is in last place–– they got disdainfully frowned at from a tourist family and an old married couple. James would have been proud.

Eventually, Dorcas brought the conversation back to Remus’s cancelled date. “So, Marls is right, you are glowing, and I love that, but tell us about last night. You don’t seem upset about it?”

Remus shrugged. “Well, yeah, I mean it sucked waiting around for the dinner date that never happened, but if it wasn’t meant to be then there’s really no use losing sleep over it, I suppose.”

Dorcas looked mildly impressed by his answer.

“Plus, I salvaged the evening by treating myself to pizza at the Italian restaurant right by my apartment. That’s where your pre-breakfast dessert hailed from.”

Marlene looked at the now-empty to-go box in surprise. “Wow, I love how we just devoured that and didn’t even ask you where it came from. I don’t think I even said thanks?”

“Don’t worry babe, we were doing him a favor. Remus hates soggy cake.” Dorcas stated confidently.

Remus laughed. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking only at Marlene. “But yeah, I wish the waiter knew that about me. I would be totally happy with any other free dessert, but I guess tiramisu is their specialty or something.”

“Wait, hold on,” Marlene paused. “Are you saying you didn’t buy this for us? I’m withdrawing my belated thanks.”

“No, no, wait hold on, but to the other part of that sentence,” Dorcas said. “Are you saying a waiter gave you a free dessert?”

“Yeah, he kind of always does.”

“Wait, is he like, flirting with you?”

“No!” Remus said, assuredly, but his cheeks turned warm anyway.

“He gave you a free dessert. He has given you multiple free desserts? That is definitely flirting.”

Remus wanted to protest this statement, somehow, but all he could come up with was a strangled sort of noise.

Marlene seemed encouraged by his obvious embarrassment. “Oh my god, you’re going to fall in love and make babies with the help of modern science. Your baby is going to like tiramisu and be born with the personality of an old man. Half you and half waiter boy.”

“What’s his name what’s his name what’s his name,” Dorcas parroted, poking him in the arm with each question.

“Absolutely not.” Remus answered. Having already witnessed Dorcas’s impressive online stalking skills, he wasn’t about to give her a name as unique as Sirius. “Besides, uh,” his tone softened, “honestly I think he only brings me desserts because he feels sorry for me.”

Dorcas’s playful smile dropped. “Oh, Remus,” she began, “don’t sell yourself short.”

Marlene nodded with her, but mercifully changed the subject a minute later.

***

Remus shifted in his seat as his phone vibrated once, signifying an incoming text message. He was in his daily meeting with the other writers for the newspaper. They had just wrapped up the business side of the meeting, and had moved on to the fun side: presenting the best (worst?) reader comments from their online stories.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” the room quieted as Minerva spoke up. She was one of the older writers, and had been at the paper for almost ten years now. Everyone respected (and possibly feared) her, but Remus had immediately connected with her after they locked eyes during a lunch break to discover that they were both reading the newest Margaret Atwood novel and sipping Earl Grey tea. “On my article covering the shopping mall that tried to prevent breastfeeding in public, Ken M. wrote ‘aside from being completely unnecessary, breastfeeding encourages babies to objectify women.’”

The room burst into laughter, and Remus took the opportunity to subtly check his phone. Sure enough, it was Roy, the man he had been messaging for the last few days, and had even moved from Tinder’s chat platform to real texting. He smiled, but turned the phone to Do Not Disturb until the meeting was over.

“Ken M. strikes again!” Someone else announced.

“Ken M. deserves his own column, I swear.” A voice from the back of the room chimed in. “This man comments something completely ridiculous on every post. On my piece on updated bus routes he got into an argument with someone else, and I didn’t read all the comments to know how it got there, but Ken M. ended their dispute with, and I quote, ‘God is a ridiculous myth.’”

Remus laughed along with his coworkers, and took a moment to enjoy the fun banter. He loved his job for his career, but also enjoyed the little positive moments that arose from his sudden move to the big city: meeting Minerva, discovering the infamous Ken M., and laughing along with his coworkers during a meeting. His old job had been at a small newspaper where the main source of workplace laughter was Remus silently laughing at the incompetence of his coworkers, not his readers.

As the meeting ended and people began to file out of the room, he pulled out his phone. Roy told Remus he wanted to take him to his favorite restaurant on Saturday night, and Remus happily agreed to meet him in front of the Pike Place Market neon sign at 6:30. The restaurant was a short walk from there, and Remus was glad he didn’t have to awkwardly refuse getting into the car with someone he didn’t know on a first date.

I want the restaurant to be a surprise, Roy had sent, but do you have any dietary restrictions? Remus appreciated his foresight, and answered with, I’m vegetarian, but I eat pretty much anything otherwise! Remus took a moment to smile dopily after receiving a quick response: perfect.

Remus was excited for the date. Roy was very handsome, with curly blond hair, soft blue eyes, and dimples. He was also, if his profile was to be trusted, very accomplished.  

***

The date was horrible. Roy kept most of the conversation centered on himself and his many achievements. Remus noticed that his eyes were actually brown, and while Remus had nothing against brown eyes, seeing as he had a pair of them himself, he couldn’t help but feel weirded out by the fact that Roy, or Gilderoy, as he referred to himself in the third person, had taken the time to edit or filter his eye color in all of his online photos.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Remus had already reminded himself over and over that it was just one date, and that even if it was disappointing, he would have a good story to tell later, and he didn’t feel unsafe at all. His friends had his phone’s location, and Dorcas had already assured him that she would “track down and throw from the Space Needle” any man who tried to harm Remus.

Remus tried to muster a polite smile as Roy told him about his obviously fabricated second meeting with Oprah, but his smile completely dropped when he read the front of his menu. They were at a steakhouse.

Their waitress approached, saving Remus from whatever monologue he was about to be subjected to. “What can I get started for you guys tonight?” She sounded bored, which Remus was willing to credit her for, as he understood working in the food industry was not exactly glamorous, but he still stupidly thought of Sirius’s excitement as he waited tables.

Roy had the nerve to try to order for Remus. Remus cut him off and appealed to the waitress. “I’m sorry, I realize you probably don’t get that many vegetarians here, but are there any vegetarian menu items?”

“You’re vegetarian?” The waitress said in surprise.

Remus didn’t expect that response, but he turned directly to Roy as he answered, “yes.”

***

An hour later, Remus was finally free of Roy. The aggravating man had offered to pay for the whole meal, with a public brandishing of his multiple credit cards, but Remus insisted they split it, just to ensure that no one thought he owed him anything. Remus wanted to never see this man again, and if that meant paying for half of a check that consisted of one expensive filet mignon and one cheap side salad, then it was well worth it.

Remus said goodbye in the midst of the Public Market, and then walked away. The last thing he wanted to do was get walked home by the insufferable man and have to listen to him, or worse, have to listen to him invite himself upstairs. As he walked home, he blocked Roy’s phone number, for good measure, and deleted the Tinder app from his phone. He dully realized that if he wanted to deactivate his account for good he would need to redownload the app first, but the symbolism felt nice in the moment.

Composure carried Remus inside his apartment building and up the stairs, but after finally locking his door behind him, he started crying. It was stupid really, and thinking that the idiot he wasted one evening with was making him cry only made him cry harder. His tears were out of frustration more than sadness.

He was frustrated that he couldn’t find a decent man on Tinder. He was frustrated that some asshole took him to a fucking steakhouse after knowing he was a vegetarian. He was frustrated because for whatever reason, he was alone on a Saturday night, again, and he very well may be alone on all future Saturday nights, because his ex-boyfriend decided that he didn’t love him anymore. What was even worse to think about, somehow, was that Remus didn’t even want his ex-boyfriend back. It would be so simple, he thought, to simply miss him, and hope that he would change his mind, and Remus could move back to his little college town and get his old job back at the small newspaper and compromise his life away. But he didn’t even want that anymore. Instead, he had to navigate the world not knowing if there was anyone that he could build a life with, all the while wasting his time on losers like Roy. And he was frustrated because he was hungry, having eaten only a small side salad for dinner.

Fueled by hunger and frustrated tears, he got up, grabbed his journal and pocketed a pen, made a halfhearted effort to wipe the tears from his face, and didn’t bother to change out of his date clothes before he headed out to go eat some comfort food.

He started crying a bit on his way to the restaurant, but it was dark outside and the anonymity of the large city granted some comfort. By the time he got to the restaurant, he was mostly calmed down, and just wanted to eat his pizza in silence, and process his emotions through writing them down in the journal he brought.

It was surprisingly busy at the restaurant for being so late on a Saturday night, and Remus took advantage of that fact to quietly slip into a booth as far away from Sirius’s normal section that he could. Remus didn’t think he would be able to keep up with Sirius’s banter, or familiarity, or free tiramisu tonight. Until he had taken the time to process his night on paper, he didn’t want to have to talk to anyone he knew. After a minute of solitude, a middle-aged waitress approached his table: success. He placed his order and went back to his journal.

As always, he started to feel better almost immediately after he started writing. Once he came to a good stopping point, he paused to look up, and drank some of the cold water the waitress had brought earlier. A few deep breaths later and he was feeling almost like a real human again.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Hey there.” Sirius’s voice sounded warm, as always, but slightly hesitant too.

“I brought you something, uh, I saw that your pizza just went in the oven, so it’s still going to be a few minutes.” He placed a small platter of roasted green beans to the side of Remus’s journal, and gave a tentative smile.

Remus had a quick fleeting thought of do you think I don’t eat enough vegetables? But, he realized how tasty they looked and how hungry he was. He felt his eyes water slightly as he tore his gaze from the gifted appetizer back up to Sirius.

“Do you feel sorry for me?” Remus asked, suddenly, “because I’m always alone?”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Remus was almost as surprised as he was, for having verbalized the question that had popped into his mind at the moment. He supposed he meant to say alone here, in the restaurant, because that is where Sirius sees him, but it worked in the general sense too.

“How could I feel sorry for you,” Sirius said slowly, “when you look that good, even while you’re upset.” Sirius’s confident smile crept back onto his face as he walked away.

Remus watched him in surprise, and after a few seconds Sirius turned suddenly, instantly locking eyes with Remus. Caught. Sirius winked and turned back around again.

Remus frantically texted his friends. He first had to update them on the horrible date he had gone on, and then the friendly interactions he has had with Sirius over the course of his many visits to the restaurant, and finally what Sirius just said.

Marlene: First of all, Dorcas and I are gonna find this Roy guy and kill him, probably

Marlene: Second of all, REMUS! You gave me sexy-waiter-flirtation-tiramisu! What if he had put a love potion in it or something??

James: I think I’m missing something about tiramisu… is that some kind of euphemism??

Remus updated them on the desserts that Sirius had given Remus ever since he first came to the restaurant. He also started to smile again, almost unwillingly, at his friends’ texts. He remarked how much can happen in a night: excitement about a date, frustration during said failed date, sadness afterwards, spiraling into thinking he would never date again, getting flirted with, and eventually laughing as his wonderful friends tried to cheer him up, cheer him on, and just be their wonderfully unique and crazy selves.

Lily: Remus this is a sign! I said meeting someone organically would be the best, and here we are. You’ve been getting flirted with this whole time by someone you met in person!

Dorcas: She’s right, you should totally go for it! He obviously likes you

James: Come on mate, what do you have to lose?

Remus thought for a second, before responding to his support group.

Remus: my emotional support pizza

James: what??

The group convinced him to flirt back, and Remus silenced the phone before Sirius came back with his pizza. Evidently he had taken over his table from the earlier waitress.

“And here at last, one margherita pizza. Careful, it’s pretty hot, fresh out of the oven.” Sirius fiddled with the notepad he wrote orders in after setting the pizza down. “Um, enjoy your pizza.” He turned to walk away.

“Hey,” Remus spoke up, suddenly. Sirius turned around quickly at the sound. Remus’s eyes crinkled with happy mischief. “You too.”

Sirius laughed and continued his walk back to the kitchen.

***

When Sirius brought the check, Remus carefully penned his signature and a twenty percent tip. He idled for a moment, before flipping the receipt over and writing a string of ten digits. He paused for a second again, before adding underneath in neat scrawl “should you choose not to call, we must never speak of this, because I need to be able to eat margherita pizza here on my really bad days.” On a new line underneath, he just wrote “Remus”.

***

Thirty-four minutes later, Remus received a text message from an unknown number.

“Don’t worry Remus, I would never get between a man and his pizza.”

[ya-boy-roy-toy]

i know this defeats the whole point of sending in numbers but can you just do all of them for jayroy? i so wanna heat what you’ll say!! i love your headcanons so much u.u

Sorry this took so long, but it was an awful lot of headcanons (which is awesome and I had so much fun doing this!) and I wanted to pay them all enough mind.Everything with (Dirty Boys) in front of the response is naughty!

1)Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

Roylikes to mess around just to get on Jason’s nerves (and not just on the FerrisWheel), but Jason grew up in the Wayne household, so it can really take alot to get there. Jason never “flips out” and he’s definitely the one whowill save him from nearly falling off the damn thing, but his heartrate willshoot up and his brow will crease with worry as he holds onto his partner who justlaughs it off.

 2)Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at anytime?

(DirtyBoys) They both have a pretty high libido, but Roy is moreforward with his advances. He likes to get handsy with Jason (no matter whatJason might happen to be doing at the time) and won’t stop until the otherfollows him to their bed (or the closest stable surface). But, when Jason’s inthe mood, he is very demanding and blunt; if he wants to suck off Roy, thenhe’ll go to his workshop and do it right then and there, and Roy’s pretty muchat his mercy (not that he really minds).

Jasonis also the one more likely to initiate sex while they’re on a job; seriously,this boy grew up on the streets, so he has absolutely no qualms with doin’ itwherever, whenever – and Roy is more than happy to oblige.

 3)Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxingand who tries to make it sexy time?

(DirtyBoys) Roy tends to get a little lax about takingshowers, so Jason has to remind him from time to time – and what better waythan to invite Roy to join him (which hardly every fails). Jason prefers bathsbecause he likes to relax in them by himself for a while, but he also doesn’tmind sharing baths with Roy (though those are still relaxing, but in quite a differentway).

LikeI mentioned previously, Roy likes getting handsy with Jason, and being coveredin fruity smelling soaps certainly helps with that. But Jason can calm Roy downpretty easily, just start washing the red-head’s hair and he’s at Jay’s mercy.So Jason is definitely the one in charge of where exactly bath-time will endup.

 4)Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put someclothes on?

(DirtyBoys) Roy, for sure. He does it either because he doesn’tcare or he genuinely forgets; once he has been working on a project formultiple days he starts forgetting the essentials. If it’s the first situation,Jason just gets annoyed with it (and sometimes they fuck), but if it’s thelatter, Jason will chase him around the house to dress him himself.

 5)Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Roy,because more often than not it’s Jason’s safehouse and his bed.

 6)Who takes photos of the other while they sleep?

SometimesJason will take pictures of Roy when he falls asleep in particularlyinteresting positions, or at his workbench to try and convince him to sleep ina bed for a change. Roy will take pictures of Jason falling asleep in weirdplaces around their safehouses and send them to Kori because he knows they makeher smile.

 7)Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fightwith “Because I love you”?

Royfirst said “I love you” when he reunited with Jason after the other had died;he had held him close and honestly couldn’t stop saying it. If Jason and Royare fighting over a situation or a choice that was really dangerous, Royusually won’t back down from defending himself and Jason will get soexasperated that he’ll yell: “I don’t want you doing that because Ilo-”. And he’ll stop himself when his voice cracks and won’t let the rest ofthe words come out, because he’s really afraid of Roy getting hurt – or worse –but he’s more afraid of his words sealing his partner’s fate (because that’swhat’s happened to others in his past).

 8)Who likes to wear the other’s sweatshirts?

Theyboth like to switch clothes and do it unconsciously a lot. Jason’s are alwaysreally loose in the chest on Roy, but he likes the smell of the material themost – he tends to sleep in Jay’s sweatshirts. Roy’s are almost alwayssleeveless and hug Jason’s broader chest, so he likes to wear them for workingout – then he’ll put them back in Roy’s things, because he knows his partnerlikes his musk.

 9)Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dreamthey had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after?

Royhas all kinds of ideas for inventions and plans at night, so he’ll excited wakeJason up to tell him about and then Jason will just say “Couldn’t this havewaited until, like, the sun came up?”

Jasonhas more nightmares, and it really depends on the kind of nightmare for how Roymight be able to comfort Jay and bring him back to reality. A lot of the timehe just needs to be held by Roy (and sometimes Kori too) to be reminded thathe’s not alone, but other times he actually needs to be alone and Roy will haveto figure that out (usually the hard way) and go sleep in his own room.

Roy’snightmares usually correspond with his withdrawals, so Jason already has anidea of when things might happen so he can prepare. He’ll hold Roy throughnightmares and muscle spasms so that he doesn’t hurt himself or Jason. When Royis in pain, there’s little more he can do than keep an eye on him and remindhim that he’s there.

 10)Who is more likely to cheat?

(DirtyBoys) Neither of them like to cheat on the other or ever doit intentionally, but things happen sometimes and the only thing they can do isfeel remorseful about it and move on.

Roywould love nothing more than to only be with Jason for the rest of his life,but the decisions he makes when under the influence of drugs or alcohol are nothis own, but he does have to deal with the consequences when he’s sober.Unfortunately, most of the time he doesn’t remember where he is or who he’sbeen with, he just wakes up somewhere that’s not with Jason and has to find hisway back home. At first he would beat himself up about it pretty badly, buteventually he and Jason had a talk about it and the understanding that theycame to share helped make him feel less guilty.

Jasonloves Roy unconditionally, and even though he has knowledge of Roy’s‘activities’ when he’s using, he does not use them as an excuse for his ownbehaviors. When they are apart, Jason will go through periods of wantingabsolutely nothing to do with any other human beings to needing nothing morethan a good fuck, so he’ll satisfy either of those needs as he sees fit.Throughout all of this, he never feels any emotional connection with theseother people, and certainly nothing close to the way that being with Roy makeshim feel. He and Roy haven’t openly discussed this yet, but Roy has hissuspicions but also understands that that is something that Jason just needs.

 11)Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remindthem that they are in a relationship?

Jasonsometimes like to poke fun at Roy having a crush on him since they were kids(and when Jason was “practically a baby” compared to Roy) just to watch Roy getall flustered and embarrassed (because “it was only a two and a half year agedifference, Jason. I am nOT a cradle snatcher!”).

Sometimes,if Roy ever gets drunk, he’ll get really emotional about how beautiful Jasonis, and then proceed to absolutely loose his shit when Jason says he has aboyfriend. He then has to calm Roy down explaining that Roy is that boyfriend.But that usually doesn’t sink in until Jason takes him home and snuggles withhim in their bed until Roy passes out.

 12)Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Roy.He can only do them with Kori, because Jason has no patience for it. Jason alsomakes Roy clean up everything after (and Kori always helps too).

 13)Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Roylike to start duets, but he was pleasantly surprised the first time Jasonjoined in – the rumor that Dick is the best singer in the Batfam is nottrue.

 14)Who starts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their armaround their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

(DirtyBoys) Roy will usually reach out and take Jason’s hand whenhe notices him getting a little lost in his own head.

Roylikes to smack Jay’s butt playfully, but if Jason’s feeling feisty he’ll go infor a hug and instead just grab onto Roy’s ass cheeks so he’s red-faced whenthey pull apart.

Roylikes to wrap his arm around Jay’s waist when he’s feeling possessive, or whenthere’s a bunch of men and women eyeing his man.

Jasonwill grab onto Roy’s belt loops when the other is working on his inventions,pulling him closer on his rolling chair and away from the distraction of hiswork.

 15)Who likes writes the others name on their wrist?

Royloves tattoos and they are important to him, so he actually has a tattoo ofJason’s name (it actually says ‘Jaybird’) on the inside of his wrist.

 16)Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed?(already done)

 17)Who is more protective? (already done)

 18)Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?(already done)

 19)Who drives and who has the window seat?

Mostof the time they ride on motorcycles and they each have their own (as well ascars). But sometimes they like to just go cruise around through back roads inRoy’s old, red pickup truck. Roy drives with the windows down and one arm out,while Jason reclines in his seat with his feet on the dash or out the window.

 20)Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Theyboth have a tendency to work themselves to the point of utter exhaustion, sothey frequently do this with each other. Roy will sleep like the dead when hefinally goes down from exhaustion, so Jason will gather him up and take him totheir shared bed. But when this happens to Jason, Roy just leaves him where heis with a blanket over him, because Jason is a very light sleeper and it’s hardenough getting him to go down in the first place.

 21)Who cuts the others hair?

Jasoncuts his own hair, and sometimes Roy’s too. But Roy hates having his hair cut,so it’s not as often as Jason would like it to be.

WhileRoy might not like having people cut his hair, he adores having it messed with(braided by Kori and brushed by Jason) – it’s like free therapy.

 22)Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughoutthe day?

(DirtyBoys) Roy’s sexting is usually weird puns and dick jokes,but all Jason has to do is send him the barest bit of skin and Roy is now puttyin his hands.

Jasonhas a tendency to send Roy positive and encouraging messages whenever they areaway from each other/“taking a break” because he knows that sometimes that canbe enough to keep Roy from going back to the bottle or a needle.

 23)Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraidof losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other totell them they don’t need to worry?

Theyboth definitely have times where they feel like they don’t deserve the other,but this also helps them understand the validation that each of them needs tofeel better. They are both equally afraid of losing each other – and for Roy,it would mean losing Jason a second time, which he doesn’t think he couldhandle.

Jasondoesn’t usually admit to feeling like he’s messing up (instead he begins towithdraw, with the hope of removing himself to solve any problem that might beoccurring). But Roy will have times when he just breaks down and is a messblaming himself for things left-and-right, so Jason can only try to reassurehim that it’s not his fault.

 24)Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds theother just above the ground and kisses them? (already done)

 25)Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

(DirtyBoys) Roy makes these unironically and just because he wantsto. He knows that they’ll just get and eye-roll from Jason who will then makethe decision whether or not he’s in the mood to shut Roy up right away –meaning taking him somewhere and shutting him up.

Ifand when Jason makes sex jokes, he renders Roy a speechless, sputtering mess,leaving Jason satisfied with a suddenly submissive Roy who need to be told whatto do.

 26)Who kissed first?

Roywas too nervous about kissing Jason when they were younger because of beingolder than Jay, so he waited until Jason made the first move at his own pace.He still lets Jason initiate most all of their kisses, simply because he knowsthat it means a lot to Jason to make his own choices and decisions.

 27)Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three inthe morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s toodark?

Roy.He’ll eat anything at any hour of the day, but once he’s crawled into bed it’snearly impossible to get him out of it. This means Jason is usually the one whogets up in the morning and starts breakfast so that Roy will come out of thebed to chase the smell of food.

Becauseof Roy’s lack of getting out of bed and Jason’s detesting of getting out of bedwhen he doesn’t have to, they opted to get a mini-fridge to keep drinks in, soit’s a win-win.

 28)Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songsthe write for them?

Jasonsometimes gets inspired to write things about Roy, mostly because getting hisfeelings out in words can help him to better understand his emotions. But hedoes not let Roy read them because he feels like they’re too sappy. Once, Korifound one of the little notebooks that Jason uses for this and she read throughall of the entries. She was so moved by the words but also knew that Jasonwouldn’t have kept it so secret if he had wanted it to be read, so she kept herfeelings to herself besides the soft, knowing smiles she would give Jason fromtime to time.

29)Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up drivingthem to the emergency room after it backfires?

Roy’salways trying to do some dumb shit, and Jason always drives him to theemergency room. It’s almost how concerning how routine this has become.

 30)Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks theylook super cute?

Roygets a little self-conscious wearing his glasses around the safehouse, whichisn’t made much better by Jason making comments about how cute he looks inthem. At first, he thought Jason was saying it to tease him, but eventuallyJason took his glasses off, kissed both of his eyelids, and told him that everyword was true. Roy turned as red as his hair and just grumbled about having toget back to work on his trick arrows.

[pollylynn]

Title: Sidestep WC: 1000

She is loquacious tonight. He’s not surprised by that in any absolute sense. He’s known for a while now that Kate Beckett, in the right frame of mind—in the right . . . position—is quite the talker. But she’s being professionally loquacious, and that’s definitely surprising. 

They have long since ducked Archie Bronstein and his hat into a squad car. The Hammer has almost certainly arrived at his next stop on his tour of Criminal Justice Land, but somehow the two of them are still caught up in the boring, end-of-case details he usually likes to avoid. 

It starts with the phone call she insists on making right there on the street in front of the studio. He wanders a few feet off and watches, amused, as the production team for Archie’s commercial, having clearly done a collective whaddayagonnado? shrug, starts rolling out lighting kits and the rest of the tools of the trade to the van taking up most of the curb space, as though the stars of their particular show are routinely carted off by law enforcement. 

She still has the phone to her ear when the last black-clad crew member gives him the hairy eyeball and emphatically turns the key in the outer door’s lock. He moseys back toward Beckett and gives her a questioning look. She gives him a whaddayagonnado? shrug of her own, but the eternal call ends a moment later, and she beckons him toward the car. 

“Isn’t the hotel that the benefit . . .?” He points back the way they were just facing when she pulls a sharp U-turn. “And the the loft is . . .” He tries to get his bearings. “If you want to change, the loft is—”

“But the morgue is . . .” She gestures through the windshield. “I convinced the NTSB to send someone to take a look at the dummy.” 

“You’re going to talk to NTSB tonight?” He’s even more surprised than he is dismayed at the prospect of what sounds like a very dry conversation. Okay. He’s at least as surprised as he dismayed. “Tonight, tonight?” 

“Yes, tonight, tonight.” She drops her voice, mimicking him. “Before Modesto can pull anything.” 

It’s a plausible explanation. Calling Modesto to accounts after five years living with the guilt regarding his complicity is what Richie the Pitbull literally gave his life for. It is on-brand for Kate Beckett to do everything in her power to honor the victim. 

But there’s the matter of timing. There’s the matter of her verbosity, which at this point, seems to be wearing out even the NTSB guy, and the NTSB guy is definitely the kind of talker one usually finds consigned to the outer reaches of an accounting cube farm. And there’s the fact that she keeps glancing at her watch, and not in a gotta go kind of way. She keeps looking at her watch, and it dawns on him that she’s stalling. The surprisingly loquacious Detective Beckett is stalling. 

Guilt seizes him at first. He thought he’d managed a graceful withdrawal for the two of them from the competition with a little help from Jimmy Kimmel and a costly favor to be named later, but maybe she still feels like her reputation is going to take a department-wide hit, courtesy of  the gauntlet he unthinkingly threw down. 

But the more she draws out the process of giving her statement, calling him over to give his statement, making the NTSB guy go over both their statements, including the second interview with Elise Resner, it just seems like . . . stalling. 

He calls her on it in the car. He hardly has to. She settles into her seat, she fastens her belt. She needlessly fiddles with the mirrors, and even after the key is in the ignition, she doesn’t turn it. 

“You don’t want to go.” He studies her profile, gives her a moment to respond, but she doesn’t seem inclined to take it. “To the benefit. Even though there’s no chance of you splitting your dress—”

“I hate schmoozing,” she blurts. She turns to him, looking equal parts horrified and relieved that she’s said it. “I’m taking the Captain’s exam. I’m trying to take the next step, whatever that is. And I should go. I should schmooze. But I hate it.” She gives him a moment to respond, but he waits her out. “It’s not fun,” she says at last. 

“So let’s not go.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “It’s late. And that NTSB guy was a talker.”  He rolls his eyes. “Who knew there’d be so much to say about a dummy?”

“Nice try.” She gives him a grateful smile. She reaches over the gearshift and grabs his hand. “But there’s still at least an hour and a half left in the damned benefit, and I’ll have to hit the precinct—”

“Then we go do something fun for an hour and a half.” He looks out the window for inspiration, but with her right hand in his left, all the inspiration he needs is in this car. “We go dancing. Hit the precinct afterward, and no one’s the wiser.” 

She doesn’t fight him on it. Not for an instant. It’s glorious and a little bit sad. He thinks about her aspirations, her role models. He thinks about Roy Montgomery and the fun he got to have as Captain. But he knows she’s wise in seeing more of Gates in her future, because she’s a woman—because he’s stood witness to the way she has to fight to be taken seriously every day in such unexpected ways. 

He makes a vow to himself as he twirls her across the dance floor to Cole Porter, George Gershwin, Glen Miller. He makes a solemn vow, as the loquacious Kate Beckett whispers and laughs nonstop in his ear, that wherever she goes, whatever path she follows, he’ll be the dummy who eases the burden of schmoozing when he can. And she will never want for fun. 

A/N: I guess the object is the dummy? I thought it was the trophy. Brain Poneh dissents. Hmm.

images via homeofthenutty

[amazingflyingdick]

treasure of the sierra madre.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick and Jason Todd @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: Dick’s apartment WHEN: Backdated to June 15th, 2020 WHAT: Dick points out something he’s noticed about Roy.

Jason: Jason had found a place that would work as a safehouse, but he was still in the process of actually getting it set up as such. It took a certain level of security, and he couldn’t just do that overnight. That meant he’d been at Dick’s place for nearly a week since the Bratva attacked the jail. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, but he hadn’t reached it just yet.

Roy had left not long before, though Jason had asked him to stay. He’d said something about work and Jason hadn’t pressed. He wasn’t thrilled about it, though, and was still sitting on the couch with a tablet in his lap mindlessly scrolling down a page of miscellaneous equipment when he heard Dick come into the room. He didn’t look up.

Dick: Even though Dick got up and went to work every morning, he was waiting for the inevitable “interview” he’d have with Gordon about the situation. His story seemed to go over without much suspicion, or at least that’s how it seemed, but he knew Gordon well enough to know that he often just chose not to ask too many questions.

He was surprised to see Jason in the living room when he walked in, but also relieved. Last night was the first time he had a chance to actually see Roy since the escape, between smoothing things over at work and Slade’s discreet drop-ins he hadn’t been around much himself, and he was shocked to see the change in him. It was indicative of only one thing. “Hey. Is Roy here?” There was a time he might have gone to Roy first, but part of Dick was still holding onto the hope that he could somehow be wrong about this. Jason: Jason glanced up. “No. He took off a little while ago, said he had work.” It seemed like a weird shift to him. He was beginning to wonder whether or not Roy had actually forgiven him for going to the SCPD, but it was difficult sometimes to figure out the reality of something against his own paranoia. Everything got fed through sort of a filter and Jason couldn’t always turn it off, especially when life was otherwise upside down.

“Why? You need me to take off?” They hadn’t talked about Slade. Dick hadn’t brought him up, but Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d been coming into the apartment, knew they’d been spending time together. Maybe Dick genuinely believed he was sleeping or wouldn’t notice, but he doubted that. Dick: Dick immediately knew that wasn't true. After hanging around Roy regularly and up until the day of the escape, he knew what his hours were. Still, it was possible he got called in... maybe. He wasn't going to count out the possibility, at least not yet, but it wasn't looking good.

Thrown off guard, he quickly shook his head and set his keys down by the door. His apartment had two floors, but even though his room was on the first and Jason's was upstairs where the guest bedroom was, he knew better than to think he was oblivious to what was going on. "Uh, no, I need to talk to you actually. About Roy." He hesitated, frowning. "Something's wrong. The shaking. Scratching. And last night... I mean, he could barely keep his eyes open." Jason: Jason kept the tablet in his hand until Dick had finished talking. He almost went back to scrolling out of defense, but even he couldn’t fully ignore how quickly I need to talk to you about Roy hit at a nerve that was already a little exposed. Jason didn’t want something to be wrong. He’d fucked up going to the SCPD, but it had only cost them a couple of weeks. He’d wanted that to be the end of it. If Dick had something to say, though, that meant it wasn’t the end.

The shaking. The scratching. I had too much coffee this morning. Jason’s jaw tensed. “What about Roy?” Dick: Jason not immediately acknowledging the problem didn't surprise him, even though Dick knew he wasn't naive to addiction. It was different when it was someone close to you. He'd known Roy for years and it was still hard to face it, especially when he knew what came next. "He's relapsed." There was still the chance he could be wrong, but most of his hope faded at Jason's reaction. "I know all the signs with him. I've seen it before."

He leaned against the chair but didn't sit. When he continued his voice was softer than the blunt way he'd been speaking. "Jay... we have to get him to treatment. I already looked into a few centers nearby, I don't think it's be a good idea to bring him where he works." Jason: Even though Jason knew that Roy had relapsed before, he hadn’t been present for any of them. Any time they’d actually been together, he’d been on the wagon. It was one of the first things he’d admired about him, because he’d always known that addiction was a beast that most could not overcome. He’d never told Roy any of that, but maybe he should have. Or maybe it would have made the guilt worse for him. It was a fine line, and not one he’d had to walk in a long, long time.

When Dick so quickly suggested sending him away somewhere, Jason finally visibly reacted. “No. I’m here now. I’ve got the time. If you’re right,” and he didn’t want him to be, “I can handle it.” Dick: The no made him wince, but Dick was ready and had arguments for the point he expected Jason to make. Unfortunately, the actual rebuttal wasn't anywhere close to what he expected. He thought Jason would be in staunch denial, and if that were the case then he'd have been prepared, but this?

He stared at him in disbelief. "What? How? It doesn't... it doesn't work like that." The first time Roy went through detox he hadn't gone to a rehab center, but Dick heard plenty of horror stories from Dinah. "He has to go through detox. He needs counselors." Jason: He knew that Bruce was aware of the circumstances that had orphaned him, that his father had been killed and the woman he’d known as his mother had overdosed. That was what it all looked like on paper once it was over. Jason didn’t talk about the years leading up to that point. He never discussed the life he’d had prior to living on the streets, not with Bruce or his brothers or Roy or anyone else. Once in awhile he might make a passing comment, but they were nearly all dry and vague, nothing that anyone couldn’t have guessed on their own. That didn’t mean he didn’t remember, though. He was still well acquainted with what it had been like to grow up the child of an addict and a drunk lackey.

“I don’t need you to tell me how it works.” It came out more sharply than he’d intended, but he wasn’t willing to listen to Dick try to lecture him. If one of them didn’t understand, it was not Jason. Dick: Dick was under no illusions about Jason's life prior to Robin. He didn't know the details, although he imagined they were all in Jason's file, but it was Gotham and he wasn't blind to what the streets were like. Maybe he should have read up on his experiences before this conversation, but he'd never felt right just going in and reading up on his own brother. It didn't feel natural. If Jason wanted him to know something then he would tell him.

"Okay." It was an acknowledgment rather than an indication that Dick was backing down. He wasn't. "Then you know what he's about to go through. Detoxing in treatment eliminates any unnecessary suffering. They make it easier." Jason: Jason sat up straight and put the tablet aside so that he could face Dick. If Roy had relapsed, he deserved to deal with it somewhere that was at least familiar, comfortable. Treatment centers might have been the answer if he didn’t have someone willing to sit through the hard parts of it with him, but he did. Jason wasn’t going to let him be carted off somewhere, out of his reach and on his own. Dick didn’t get it. He had no reason to get it.

“I know what they do in treatment centers,” he said flatly. “And I know I can take care of him. I’ve done it before, and it’ll be-“ better this time “I know what I’m doing.” Dick: Flabbergasted, Dick just stared at Jason silently. He didn't know the details of Jason's past, or what he'd seen or been through, and he wished now more than ever that he did. Now he was walking on eggshells. Whatever put the idea in Jason's head that this was something he should have to handle instead of handing the responsibility over to people who did it for a living - well, he had no idea what it was, but it was severely misguided.

"Jason, please," he began again, his voice quieter and not to the point of frantic just yet. "I know he does well in rehab. You can't watch him all of the time, and even if you could... you don't have a controlled environment. What if he gets his hands on something and overdoses? It's not worth the risk." Jason: He was no stranger to someone saying exactly the wrong thing to make him snap, but it didn’t happen often anymore. Not as often, anyway. Jason was still angry more than he wasn’t, but if didn’t sit as close to the surface as it had when he’d been younger. Recent events might contradict that but they’d all really caught him off guard, exactly like Dick did when he made that last comment.

He snapped before he completely realized he was doing it. “That isn’t fucking happening again. I told you I know what I’m doing!” Dick: Again. Dick definitely heard it and he tried not to react, at least not outwardly, but his mind was spinning. This was a bad idea. Maybe Jason could handle it, Dinah did, but that didn't mean it was the best thing for Roy. Whatever prompted Jason to take this route was linked to something in his past and pretty much guaranteed a bad outcome.

"Okay." His tone was quiet, defeated. "Then will you let me help? There's some things I should go get from the store. It'll make it easier for him." Even though Dick didn't have the experience Jason did, it didn't mean he hadn't picked Roy up off the floor and handled his withdrawal symptoms until he had a facility lined up for him. Jason: “I don’t need anybody’s help. I told you I’ve got this. I know what he needs, alright?” He’d seen his mom try (and ultimately fail) to get clean dozens of times. He’d been the one there with her when Willis had been in jail or, later on, dead. Maybe he was 16 or so years past the last time he’d watched her go through withdrawal, but all those years had done nothing at all to dull the memory. If he had closed his eyes right then he would have been able to smell the room, feel the scratch mattress (no sheet) that she passed out on.

His expression hardened further still, but his voice was a little quieter when he spoke again. “I’ve probably seen it as much as Roy has.” Dick: Dick didn't say anything. He wasn't going to agree, because he intended to help whether Jason wanted him to or not, but he also knew when arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. Right now Jason wasn't in a place where he was willing to listen to him, but Dick hoped he might be able to change his mind if he stressed that he was trying to help Roy.

"Your parents?" His voice was quiet, cautious. There hadn't ever been an opportunity to talk to Jason about his past, not with all the other issues to get through first, but he wasn't going to let the chance go by. Jason: He visibly recoiled and finally got off of the couch, unable to just passively sit there and have that conversation. Surely Dick hadn’t expected him to do that, had he? Had he really thought he’d show up with the news (no, the suspicion) that Roy had relapsed and that Jason would just agree to everything dutifully? Surely he hadn’t, even if he didn’t know exactly why.

He would have preferred arguing. He wanted Dick to push back, not start asking him questions. Jason ran his hand along his jaw and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand. “What does it matter?” Dick: "It matters," Dick replied quietly. Something was obviously on Jason's mind enough to earn the slip of speech, even if it wasn't the driving factor behind his determination to handle this on his own. "Look, Jason, I... I'm not saying you need my help or that I'm some kind of expert. I'm just thinking about what's best for Roy. I know you've done this before, but you don't know what he's like. Not everyone reacts the same way. And... if, for any reason, he decides he wants to check into rehab, then I can make sure there's a plan B." Jason: “If Roy would rather go to rehab, I’m not going to strap him to the chair and make him stay. I’m not a psychopath. But it’s his choice, not yours, not mine.” Dick had come out of the gate telling him what needed to be done, as if there couldn’t be any other choice or option, and he wasn’t going to abide by it. Not so early on, especially. If Roy really had relapsed, it had been...it had to have been while Jason was in jail.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he felt his chest get tight with it. If he’d not already been resolved to see him through it, that sealed it. If he hadn’t been a damned idiot, he could have been there with him, maybe stopped it from ever happening in the first place. Was it worse than that? Had it happened because of him?

He’d taken a step back toward the kitchen at some point and was just standing there, his eyes unfocused on some random portion of floor. “My mom,” he eventually muttered. Dick had asked, and he wasn’t going to answer but suddenly that was easier than voicing what his mind was racing toward. Dick: "I know you wouldn't do that, Jay." Dick sighed, but nodded when Jason said it was Roy's choice. "They don't take people against their will. He won't go unless he wants to." The last time this happened, Roy had been too far gone by the time Dick got to him. Rehab was the only option he could think of. It was either that or getting him committed; he'd barely been coherent at the time.

But he wasn't going to bring any of that up. It didn't do much good talking about the past, especially when it ran the risk of making Jason feel guilty for not being there. That probably also played a role in his reaction. It was a lot of guilt to carry around.

Dick was looking at his hands, but he lifted his gaze when Jason gave him an actual answer. He nodded, lowering his head and pushing his hair back when it fell against his forehead. "What happened to her?" Maybe it was easier for Jason to have the conversation if they weren't looking at each other. Jason: He wasn’t a caretaker. He knew that when people looked at him, that wasn’t what they saw, it was not his place. Jason had never been particularly good at comforting people, or at least he didn’t think so.

For the first years of his life, the story had been different by necessity. When no one else was around to do it, the role had been handed to him by default. He didn’t spend much time thinking about it anymore. On his long list of grievances, the early ones had gathered dust. His life before Batman, before Robin, was ancient history, and the part where he’d still had parents was even further out of reach. Roy needed him, though, and the reason he needed him meant he had to drag all of that forward again.

Dropping the conversation before it really got started was incredibly tempting. Jason almost waved it off again, and he glanced over toward the stairs like he might go to the bedroom instead. He didn’t, ultimately. “I took care of her while my dad was in and out of prison and after he got killed.” Not that Willis had been any help when he was around. There had been isolated moments where it had seemed like he was trying to be a decent father, but between the arrests and the drinking and the constant fuck-or-fight relationship his parents had, those had been rare. “She took pills, mostly.” Sometimes it had been whatever she could score to fill the need, though. “Overdosed on the bathroom floor and I couldn’t revive her.” Dick: Dick was more than capable of having difficult conversations and he did what he could to make others feel better. Most people just needed someone to hear them. Even though people joked about how much he talked, he knew when to shut up and listen. He was good at it. Jason wasn't most people, however, and Dick took years learning the hard way that he couldn't approach him the way he'd approach just anyone.

The past was a tricky subject, but it was something Dick thought about more than he left on - his shared past with Jason, that is, and the memories he had from that time. He never brought it up, even though he wanted to. It was hard to know how Jason would receive it. At the time, things were tense with Bruce and Dick's visits were limited to a couple times a week. He would never press Jason to go even further than that, especially when he didn't know what he was asking him to remember.

When he saw Jason looking at the stairs, he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from preemptively asking him to wait. Instead he was patient, quiet, rubbing the sides of his fingers and not letting himself fidget too much. Dick  lowered his head as he listened to Jason talk, feeling his heart sink at the confirmation that his experiences were just as terrible as he expected. Worse, even, because Jason had seen his mother die in front of him. "I'm sorry," he said after a stretch of silence, his tone heavy. It was hard not to move when he finally did look up and saw Jason standing there near the stairs, as if he weren't sure where to go, and he hesitated before standing. "You know that wasn't your fault, right? You were just a kid. You were too young, Little Wing." The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. It'd been years since he called Jason that, unless he was messing with him, but never during something like this. Jason: He was sorry. Jason didn't know what to do with sorry. He never had. It seemed like such a token thing to throw out, even when people genuinely meant it. They were sorry for what, exactly, when they hadn't been there or had any kind of hand in it? The urge to say that and deflect the whole sentiment was so strong that he'd already opened his mouth to say it when Dick came out with that name instead and distracted him.

When Bruce had taken him in, there had been a very brief period of time where Jason had actually allowed himself to give into the idea that he might have a family. A real one, even, not one that was never around or that needed all the care rather than providing any of it. Those hopes had been dashed pretty quickly when he'd realized how lonely life in the manor actually was. The worry about being able to meet basic needs was erased, of course. He'd no longer needed to wonder whether or not he'd have somewhere warm to sleep or where his next meal would come from (if there would be a next meal at all), but Bruce had always been more Batman than anything. Dick had been around so little, and Jason had quickly learned that even when he was there, he was not getting a brother so much as he was getting competition and losing to it. Worse, still, it was someone he'd looked up to once upon a time. He'd never told Dick that. He wasn't even sure Bruce realized that Jason knew who Dick was before any of their paths really crossed. It hadn't really ever mattered, except to make the disappointment more bitter.

"Don't," he shook his head immediately. "You don't know. I was the one who was there. I was the one who was supposed to help." He hadn't been able to, and even though that night on the bathroom floor had decided the course of the rest of his life for him, in some ways, the image of it was with him all the time. Dick: Dick had closed some space between them, but he immediately stopped when Jason said Don't, and his arms lowered to his sides. He knew Jason actively resisted getting close to them, but he didn't think it was impossible. He couldn't think that. They were far from an ideal family, nothing would ever be simple, but he couldn't let go of the steadfast need to understand. Jason had agreed to let him know who he was now, but this was taking it a step beyond that. He recognized it and he didn't want to do or say anything that might make Jason regret it. If he did, then it could be a decade before he told him anything ever again.

There were times he considered trying again to talk about the past. Even though Jason might say it didn't matter, it wasn't true. Dick wasn't an idiot. The past followed Jason everywhere. It colored all of his interactions with them, with Bruce, even if he wouldn't admit it. There was no way to atone and it wasn't even the goal - but if an explanation meant he could shoulder some of the weight Jason carried day in and day out, then Dick would do it in a heartbeat. This wasn't the time or the place, but he had hope it could happen in the future. He just had to find the right way to approach it.

That Jason could blame himself for something like that shocked him, but it also didn't. It made sense and completely explained the way he was acting now. It would be easy to argue against it, but he would just be repeating himself if he did that. He didn't think Jason would stand there and listen to it a second time. "What about you?" He finally asked. "Who was looking after you?" Jason: When there was no way to undo or fix anything that was already over, Jason didn't see the point to picking at the threads for no reason. Unless he intended for them to mean something going forward, he preferred not to speak of it at all. It came through so easily with Bruce only because he was still there, everything he'd done still actively shaped what Jason did, and he couldn't ever completely be rid of it. Not when he was around him. But everything else? All the things that could never touch him again? He let those stay buried. Willis and Catherine Todd were dead. He tried not to let either of them be an active part of a damn thing, but here he was having to dig at it.

"Yours truly. I was fine." He'd handled it, just like he'd handled the years that followed when he'd had somehow even less. Jason folded his arms in front of his chest and stayed close to the stairs. He was answering Dick, more or less, but he didn't want him to think that he needed to make some kind of moment out of it. Dick: There was no conceivable way that Jason had been fine taking care of his mother's drug addiction, but Dick didn't argue. He knew it would be taken as testament to his failure if he pointed out that his mother could have survived if Jason hadn't been forced to shoulder a burden no one should be responsible for - least of all a child. "No," he said softly. "You shouldn't have been there alone. You shouldn't have had to..." Pressing his lips together, he decided not to let himself finish that train of thought. It made him angry, for some reason, but he had no idea who to direct it to.

But they were in the here and now. Dick had to force himself to focus on that. "I'm not trying to help because I think you need it. Okay? I want to help because you're my brother and Roy is my best friend. It matters to me, it..." Jason: Even if Bruce had been lacking as a father to both of them (more than Jason had realized until one of their more recent conversations), Dick had years with the Graysons before that. He’d had parents who took care of him, loved him, the whole shebang. When Jason had seen him in the circus, the reason he’d been so awestruck wasn’t necessarily because of the stunts they’d done, it was because Dick had the kind of freedom and happiness that Jason could only dream of. Dick didn’t know anything about what things had been like for him, how they should have been, or any of the rest. Jason had made do with what he’d had. “Well, I was and I did, so it doesn’t matter.” He didn’t need the judgement or the pity for it so long after the fact. Not one damn person had helped at the time, because Jason and his parents had been one more trash family in Crime Alley and then he’d just been one more kid on the streets. A statistic.

Hadn’t he just said that Jason couldn’t do it himself? Only a few minutes before? “I’m not going to let anything happen to him.” Even if Jason hadn’t been keeping his head low, he would have still stopped what he was doing to give that time to Roy. Especially for this. Dick: Dick was quiet again, biting the tip of his tongue to keep from saying something. He knew how Jason could be about the past, it was a difficult subject, and he needed to temper his own reactions. It wasn't as if it came as a surprise to hear that Jason had a less than ideal childhood, but it was something entirely different to hear it expanded upon and detailed.

He still didn't think Jason could do it on his own, but that wasn't the reason why he wanted to be here. It wasn't about that, true or not, and he shook his head. "That's not why, Jason." Dick was no better equipped than Jason when it came to helping someone detox. If anything, the opposite were true given what Jason went through with his mom. "I want to be here to support him. And you, even if you don't need it, even to just... I don't know, run to the store for something, so you don't have to leave him." Jason: His childhood and what he’d gone through with his parents had nothing to do with anyone else. Jason wasn’t prone to big, open conversations about anything, but even less inclined to put any kind of focus on what his life had been before he was part of the Wayne family and all that entailed. It had shaped him, no doubt, but it just felt like it was his to bear and nobody else’s business. In all likelihood, he would have never breathed a word of it had the situation with Roy not hit so close to it.

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “I’m talking to Roy about this myself,” he decided. “If he wants either of us around or if he wants to go to rehab...that’s his call.” He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Roy refused both, though. Jason knew from experience that people didn’t usually get clean until they were ready to do it, and forcing it had about as much chance of succeeding  as Jason had of winning a Nobel Peace Prize. Roy had to want to though, didn’t he? Jason believed that. “...If he says yes, I’ll tell you if we need something.” Dick: It was the most Dick could hope for in a situation like this and he knew it. He had already pushed Jason as far as he was willing to go, at least for now, and there was nothing else to do but watch things play out and hope that everything fell into place. At the end of the day, it was Roy's decision and how he wanted to handle it that mattered. Even Dick knew the uselessness of forcing someone to go to rehab when they didn't want to go. It didn't work.

"Okay," he agreed quietly. "But you'll... tell me how things go? Just so I know how he is?" If he didn't hear from Jason, Dick knew he would just be driving himself crazy over it. He could step back and not involve himself if it were what Roy wanted, but he wouldn't be any less worried about him in the meantime. He knew Roy had a lot of pride and that sometimes involved not telling him about things like this. It made him think it was likely that Roy wouldn't want him around. Jason: He was hoping Dick’s agreement meant they were near the end of the conversation. He didn’t want it to stretch on any longer, to have to try to summon up the reserves to talk more or explain more. As far as he was concerned, he’d done enough of both to show that he was both willing and able to give Roy what he needed, and at the end of the day Dick wasn’t the one he needed the approval from to do it, anyway. He could only push himself so far.

“Yeah, I’ll fill you in. I’ll talk to him when I see him.” He imagined it would be the next day or soon enough after. Jason could leave and corner him, but he knew the risk of that just leading to a fight. For once, that was the last thing he wanted. Dick: Dick did notice that Jason wasn't rushing out to talk to Roy right then, which he imagined was for the best. He wasn't going to give him advice on how to talk to Roy, though, especially because he doubted Jason would appreciate it regardless of the intentions behind it. Instead he nodded, slowly stepping back to sit on the edge of the couch.

It was as good a time as any to drop the subject. He was glad to do it. "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is coming on in ten minutes or so. With Humphrey Bogart. It's supposed to be good. Have you seen it before?" Jason: He probably could have thought up an actual excuse, even if it would have been a thinly veiled one, but he was sort of tapped out when it came to navigating shit. Instead, he just said precisely what he was thinking. "I don't want to. I'm going upstairs." As soon as he'd said so, he shook his head and turned do exactly that. He'd been standing right next to them for much of their conversation, anyway.

However long it was going to be before he spoke to Roy, he needed to think about how to approach it. That wasn't going to be possible with Humphrey Bogart or Dick.

[fullmetalscullyy]

chapter 11

this has been up on ao3 for a few days but i think ppl still only read this on here so here u go 💖

read on ao3

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“What are you thinking about?”

Roy’s hand felt heavenly as it caressed the bare skin of her upper arm. She shivered in response but didn’t uncurl herself from her arm’s tight hold. Hugging her knees close as she lay on the mattress, she tried to rid herself of even more uncertainty and anxiety that had piled upon her since Mrs Henderson showed her true colours. In this bed with Roy, in this room, she was safe. It was her haven. There was no space for her worries here, and yet, they continued to plague her.

Bringing Roy into her bed was more than welcome. It was stupid. It was careless. However, in a moment of weakness, she wanted to be young and naïve once more. Too much had happened in the last few hours for her not to accept the care and comfort he’d never failed to show her.

“Everything,” Riza admitted.

“Anything I can do to help?” he offered.

Riza shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“That’s okay,” he replied kindly. A kiss was pressed to her bare shoulder. “Just let me know when you do.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. The idea he’d proposed of running away together toyed with temptation in the forefront of her mind. It would save her heartache. It would save her the stress and betrayal she was experiencing now. However, Riza wasn’t one to run away from her problems, no matter how much they overwhelmed her. Anyway, if she did agree, they would be hunted down wherever they went. No, wherever she went. Roy would be guilty by association.

Her head shifted, angling it so she could speak easier. Once she opened her mouth to speak, her speech caught in her throat. Roy’s hand moved lazily to her back. He drew patterns against it lightly with the backs of his knuckles. His touch was gentle and caring.

She was frozen ion place.

His fingers danced over her back. Unafraid. Undeterred.

He knew about the scars there. He was the only one living who did.

They were the result of a hit gone wrong in her younger years. Someone from the Bradley Family had tried to burn down their house. Roy had sneaked into her bedroom one night. The two were quietly playing together when a Molotov cocktail exploded in the middle of her old bedroom. Glass shattered everywhere, cutting into the skin of her back, slicing through her t-shirt, as fire caught on eagerly to anything that burned. Roy had hugged her close – he had matching marks on the backs of his hands, but they’d faded more than hers, Riza had noticed. He’d dragged her from the room as she bled and cried. Her mother had bundled her into her arms tightly, carrying her into her parent’s bedroom while Roy held her hand tightly.

A few months after that resulted in her mother’s death, and she never saw Roy for a long time after that.

“I was just thinking…” Riza ventured.

“Yes?”

“When my mother died…” She had to pause to swallow the lump in her throat. “And they kept us apart, did your mother ever threaten my life?”

“Not her,” he shook his head. “In fact, I don’t really remember what she said about it. I remember her being incredibly quiet as the news dropped. It was unnerving. But it was one of her Lieutenants that threatened me while I was alone. I was young and scared, so did it just in case, but I had always hated him.”

Riza curled further in on herself. “I thought that might have happened.”

“Not that it kept me far.”

“That was horrible,” she admitted. “Going from seeing you every day to not seeing you for years.”

“I know,” he murmured. “Not much could ever keep me away from you, though.”

“I thought you had to be the objective party?” she teased lightly, calling back to their conversation while he was interviewing her about her father. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Recently, I decided I didn’t want to anymore,” he replied. His hand ran from her shoulder, down to her elbow. Then, it slowly made its way back up, his fingers tickling her skin. “Not if it meant expelling you from my life.”

She should have been jumping for joy, but her future was still uncertain, especially now her mentor was out of her life. “You should want to stay away,” Riza whispered. “It’s for you own good.”

“My own good is being by your side.”

“Why?” She was both curious why he was so stubborn and why he seemed to think this was the best course of action.

“Because when I’m not, I worry about you constantly. Always have. I don’t intend to insinuate that you need protecting,” he shook his head. “You’re more than capable. However, I do love you, and I worry about you regardless. I want you to be happy, and I want to ease your struggles.” Another kiss was placed against her bare shoulder as his lips travelled up to her neck. “I want to help make you happy, Riza. I would marry you today, if I could, and if you wanted to.”

She froze.

A kiss was pressed to the skin underneath her ear and Riza shivered. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a part of your life. And damn all those who have kept us apart.”

Riza loosed the grip on her knees and rolled over slowly. She almost gasped at the love and care she witnessed with his eyes.

“You’d be tangling yourself up with this life again, though,” she breathed.

“I don’t care.” A kiss was pressed to her cheek.

“I dragged you back into this,” Riza sniffed. Even as she faced him, her shoulders rounded and Riza curled in on herself further. “I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

“I was already back in it,” Roy replied gently. He’d pushed himself up onto an elbow, looking down at her face. A hand came to rest upon her cheek gently. His thumb stroked the skin of her face.

She shook her head. “You weren’t –” she whispered.

“I was. I was fired.”

She paused. “What?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Hakuro, my CO, works for the Bradleys. Apparently, I was deemed “unfit for work”.” Roy snorted. “They fired me the day I came to see you.”

“Why?” Riza asked, outraged. She pushed herself to a sitting position.

“Because I wouldn’t let the Bradleys buy me? Because I’m a Mustang? Because I was trying to help you?” That last part made Riza swallow thickly. “It could be any of the three, or all of them combined,” he shrugged.

“That’s not fair on you,” she frowned.

“Like I said, I don’t care. Not if that’s their attitude. I tried my best and got paid in dirt. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now than fighting a losing battle of injustice. That can come later. You need me first.” His eyes were determined and unafraid. Riza could only wish she could drum up the same sentiment as him.

It felt like life was pulling her in two different directions. Keep Roy safe and keep him away, or embrace the love, comfort, and support he offered her unconditionally. She was stuck completely, unsure what to do. Apparently, it showed on her face.

“What do you want, Riza?” Roy asked suddenly. It broke her from her thoughts. His hand gripped hers tightly in the space between their bodies.

“What?”

“What do you want to do?” he asked simply. “I get the feeling duty has won out more than once,” he added. “But you deserve to be in control of your own life.”

“I want you to be safe,” she whispered.

“We can do that. Together.” His tone was determined. That familiar, confident smirk on his face. It jolted Riza back to their childhood when that look wasn’t far from his face as he tried to show off for her. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

“But what if I’m not good enough?” It was a fear she’d always held within her heart. Not that she didn’t think she was capable, but because she feared he would be used against her through methods beyond her control.

“There’s no one I trust more in life than you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “What if you get used against me? Because of who I am?”

“I’ve been used against my mother countless times. It’s a risk of carrying this name. But what if…” Roy trailed off and it caused Riza to glance at him, to see what he was thinking.

“What?”

“What if we combined both families?”

“How?” Her brow furrowed, trying to determine what he meant.

“What if we got married?”

Time seemed to stand still completely. Riza couldn’t move or breathe. Her heart screamed this was what she wanted but her mind held her back.

“I – I don’t know,” she stammered.

“Okay…” Roy trailed off and she cringed, thinking she’d offended him. She didn’t want him to withdraw his offer no matter how loud the voice in her head protested it. “Well, let’s start with something simpler. What do you want, Riza?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?” His question was soft. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. His love poured out of his eyes, shrouding her in a warm blanket that made her the happiest she’d felt in a long time.

In that moment, Riza knew her answer.

“Anywhere you are,” was her quiet, truthful reply.

[lousimusician]

Cheater -- Part 2

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Reader

Warning: Sexual harassment, violence

A/N: I wanted to get this out sooner but I've been so busy recently. So sorry for the wait

______

It had been three months since you caught Tom. Three months since you walked out on him forever.

You hadn't seen him since that day. You had been relying on Tom's money for so long, you had to stay over a friend's house until you made enough money to rent an apartment.

It had been hard, but you refused to go back to him. Leaving him had its perks. You didn't have to live in fear for his or your own life anymore, you got to focus on your education, and you got to fix old friendships you lost. Overall, you felt like a normal person for once.

But at the same time, you were in so much pain. The two of you were engaged. You were supposed to get married. You loved him, you didn't believe you could ever love someone that much again. He made you feel beautiful and loved. He was a drug that you had been addicted to, and at some points you believed the withdrawal symptoms would kill you. But you were strong, and you wouldn't run back to him.

Tom on the other hand had been doing much worse than you had. Nothing in Tom's life brought him joy. You were always the one to make him genuinely happy. So with you gone from his life without a single word, he had lost himself in his work. He gained more and more enemies every day because of it. The more money and power he gained was never enough, he was insatiable, craving something that would make the pain a little more bearable. And he found that one thing that made the pain lessen, was to make sure you were safe. He had you followed, had tabs kept on you every week. He knew everything. He even knew that you had gotten a little better from the break up every week while he continued to worsen.

Tom sighed, throwing the papers down on his desk and leaning back into his seat. Frenetic knocking sounded from his office door.

"Come in," Tom shouted, annoyed.

The doors swung open revealing one of his men. "Sir, (Y/N) was kidnapped." The man panted.

Tom's eyes widened and he stood up abruptly. "Go and get Harrison."

~~~~

(Three hours earlier)

You laughed at your friend who decided to visit you at the bar you worked at.

"You actually made him cry?" You laughed.

Your friend nodded her head, "Yeah, it was so funny. Like why be in a debate class and not be able to carry your own argument. He got so frustated he literally stood there and started crying."

"I'm impressed Liza-" You noticed someone sitting down at the bar. "I'll be right back." You said nodding towards the man's direction. She nodded back taking a sip of her drink.

You approached the man nonchantly. "Anything I can get for you?"

The man seemed a little strange, and it was hard to see his face since it was covered by his hood. He lifted his head glancing at your nametag. "Nothing right now, (Y/N)." He said as an unsettling grin formed on his lips.

"Um, alright. Just call if you want something." You hurried away. You felt your heart beat quicken. 

You weren't stupid, you had met plenty of terrifying men while you were with Tom. The only question was if this man was part of a mob or just some creep. 

"You okay?" Your friend asked as you approached her. "You look pale."

"I'm- I'm fine. Uh, so what were you saying before?"

~~

The rest of the night seemed to go by smoothly enough, about an hour after you spoke to the unsetting man he had left, making you feel much better. 

It had gotten pretty late and unfortunately you were the one that was left to close that night. You finished wiping down the bar and all of the tables.

"So, Tom Holland, huh?"

You snapped your head towards the bar, your eyebrows furrowing. It was the same man from before. "How-?"

"That lock." He nodded towards the door. "Child's play. Now, I'm very interested in you (Y/N). Would never peg a girl like you to go around fucking men in the mafia. I see why he would fuck you, though." He said raking his eyes up and down your body.

You scoffed, and crossed your arms. "It was one man. And we're not together anymore so I can't help you with whatever it is you want."

"Oh, but sweetheart. I think you can." He said standing up. 

A flash caught your eye and you found a gun hanging loosley from his hand. Of course there was a gun. There was always a gun. 

He came closer and slowly began circling around you. You stood completely still. "You two were supposed to get married weren't you?" You nodded. "And it turns out Tommyboy is still in love with you."

You felt your heart jump. Of course you were terrified for your life, but Tom still had this power over your heart.

"Oh what's this? You're blushing. Do you still love him too?"

You swallowed nervously. "No, I hate him."

"Hm, I don't believe you-."

"What do you want? You're not really here to talk about my love life, so what do you want?"

"Ooh, okay, I think I'm starting to understand why Holland likes you so much. You're firey. But you're right, what I'm actually here is for leverage."

"Wha-?" But before you could finish, you felt the butt of the gun slam into your head and you were out.

~~

"She's pretty isn't she?"

"Keep it in your pants, that's not what she's here for."

"Yeah but still. Do y'think the boss will let us have a little fun with her before we have to kill her."

"Shut the fuck up and do your job, alright."

"Well he isn't wrong." A third voice interjected. "Holland was a lucky bastard."

You slightly groaned, as you blinked your eyes open, your head pounding. You lifted your head finding the three men that had been speaking, circling around you.

"Good morning, princess. How's your head?" You recognized this voice from the first man that had spoken. He was tall with black hair.

"Don't call me princess."

The two other men laughed. "I'm gonna get the boss. James come with me." The more serious one said before leaving the room with James leaving you alone with the black haired man.

"So you were really gonna marry Holland?" He asked, but you looked away from him and ignored what he said. "Tell me why a girl who seems so obviously innocent would go for a freak like Holland. Hm? Is it cause you like it rough, cause sweetheart if you like it rough, I can have you cumming in seconds."

"You're disgusting. I'd never let you touch me." You spat.

The man slowly started to approach you. Once he reached you, he gripped your chin pulled your face close to his. "Such a filthy mouth." He grinned in amusement. "Did Holland let you speak to him like that or do you like to be put in your place." He leaned in closer so his lips were by your ear. "I bet you're a dirty little slut betwee-"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you." An all too familiar voice said. 

Both your head and the man's snapped towards the door seeing Tom and Harrison standing there covered in blood with raised guns pointed at the man.

The man stood up, "Holl-" but before he could finish both Tom and Harrison shot him dead.

"T-Tom?" You choked out.

"Shh, darling, I've got you." He said, walking over and untying you from the chair you were in. Once the tape was off, you pulled Tom into you, and hugged him tightly, despite the blood that was on him.

You hated him so much but you also loved him and seeing him after being kidnapped all logic left you. You cried into him as he held you tightly to him. You hated to admit how much you really missed him.

"Let's get you out of here, darling."

~~

You sat across from Tom in the back of his car. Harrison was driving.

Neither of you said a word, as you gazed out the window and as Tom took glances at you.

"...Thanks for saving me." You mumbled.

"Of course, da-"

"But just so you know. I still really fucking hate you."

Tom sighed. "I figured as much."

"How did you know where I was?"

"I...I've had some of my men watch you since you left."

You snapped your head towards him. "You what?" 

"I had to keep tabs on you. I'm still in love with you y'know. And my business is messy, I wanted to make sure you were safe." You stayed silent understanding his reasoning. "...Just so you know, I really miss you princess. If it means anything, I haven't had sex with another woman since you've left."

You scoffed. "Nice to know you only have sex with other women when you're with me."

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "Come on darling, please. ​​​​​​I need you so much, please just come back."

"...You really fucked up Tom."

"I know, but it'll never happen again, it should've never happened in the first place. I was a fucking idiot. I love you so much, I don't know how to function without you and you're all I think about and it kills me that I don't get to see your beautiful face anymore. Please, give me one more chance."

You gave Tom a pained look. You were so confused. You sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking.

"Fine, this is how it's going to go." Tom perked up. "Basically, you destroyed the last five years we've been together. So if you want to get back together we're starting on square one again. Which means I'm not moving back in, we're not going to have sex for a long time, and we're obviously not going to get married anymore, until you can build my trust back."

Tom nodded, "Yes, please, I'll do anything you want."

"And Tom, I swear if you do anything to break my heart like that again, you will never see me again."

"I will never break your heart again. I can't live without you."

"Then... I guess we're back together."

He smiled widely. "I guess we are."

_____

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