#riza does it all in heels

[tsaritsa]

the cables burnt and lines flare

this fic can also be found on ff.net and ao3.

An undercover mission to stop a child trafficker goes horribly wrong for Team Mustang.

inspired by the new plot points coming out of the live action! i’m a slut for the tropes involved and i’m looking forward to the movie when it premieres in dec!!!!! it looks to be a fun romp and this fic is just one of those too – i just took a few creative liberties ahah.  riza’s dress is based upon the wonderful drawing done by abstractmouse, which you can find here.

my thanks to the four gin and tonics that helped me write this. ur contribution to terrible spelling and grammar was invaluable. (and to @the-flame-and-hawks-eye, who yelled at me in a very positive way to write this).

It wasn’t meant to go this way – they had spent weeks going over every eventuality, planning out exactly how this operation was supposed to go down. Their perp – Francis Buchannan-Kenly – had been involved in multiple cases of child trafficking into the northern Aerugean region, and this gala was their best chance to ensure that he wouldn’t slip beyond their jurisdiction once more. It had been an operation months in the making, and the entire team had spent many long nights rehearsing their roles – Jean and Kain as ‘intoxicated’ guests; Heymans and Vato ensuring that both the staff and guest list didn’t allow for any of Francis’ associates to slip in undetected; and herself posing as a ditzy socialite. Roy was technically there as himself: as a young and arrogant colonel with money to throw around, and one of Madame Christmas’ girls if Riza didn’t take as bait.

Of all eventualities, they weren’t expecting a loaded and cocked pistol, and Riza certainly wasn’t expecting to be on the receiving end of it.

The night had started off so well:  she had been given a dark cocktail dress by Roy that by all accounts she would have never worn under any other circumstances, but after trying it on and seeing his, well, reaction, she had bit her smirk down and agreed that this would certainly do the job of getting Francis’ attention. It was a beautiful dress, made from dark satin and gold thread embellishing that glinted in the warm light of the ballroom. Surprisingly, it did a good job of covering up the majority of her tattoo; but what Riza loved most of all about the dress was how short it was. Even without the heels that made Roy stare for a bit longer than strictly – and that she would admit gave her more pleasure than she really should have – the dress was a real piece of art. Short styles like these, even with the gauzy peplum that framed her calves, would be seen as practically scandalous for the annual Blackburn Charity Gala – and it was this hope that Francis wouldn’t be able to resist a – what had Jean called her?

A hot piece of sin.

It had certainly worked. Francis had made a beeline for her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, already reeking of brandy and general sleaziness. He had swept her up in at least four dances – and Riza would hand it to him, the man knew how to dance. What was less enjoyable were the daggers she knew were being stared into Francis’ back: every time she glanced over to where Roy was with Carla, he had an ugly expression marring the usually confident smirk he relied on for these kinds of events. It was wholly unprofessional; but then, both their behaviours’ leading up to this event had certainly been left wanting. Roy had been in a foul mood in the weeks before the operation was set to take place, and Riza couldn’t put her finger on why.

She had managed to extract herself from the man’s clammy grip long enough to signal to Fuery that somebody needed to check in on their superior before he had grabbed her once again, his hand drifting low on her dress and skimming the skin just under the hemline. She had swallowed her bile and disgust and smiled instead, girlishly laughing and swatting teasingly at his hands. It was surprisingly easy to compartmentalise her revulsion as he led her into another dance – this time a slow waltz that Riza knew would bring more wandering fingers and stale breath down her neck. She ducked her head as best she could against his sweating body – he no longer smelled like overpowering aftershave, it instead had mellowed into something far more sickly and saccharine.

“What’s a naughty girl like you doing in a respectable place like this?” he had asked, gripping her fingers tightly within her own.

She laughed lightly, a well-practiced smile gracing her lips that bared her teeth just so. “Oh, you know,” she began, making sure to inflect enough breathiness into her tone. “I just adore seeing all the wives’ reactions.”

He laughed loudly, twirling her out before pulling her back in even closer than before. “And do you always tart up like this, or did you know I was coming?”

Riza looked up at him through her eyelashes and swallowed. “Call it a happy coincidence Mr. Buchannan-Kenly.” She inclined her head towards the bar. “Would you care for a drink?”

It had happened so quickly – one moment she was laughing prettily with a flute of sparkling wine and batting her heavily made up eyes at Francis – the next she was facing the familiar barrel of a pistol and the screams of the gala attendees around them. Riza was a little ashamed to admit that she paused for longer than necessary – not out of fear, but rather shock that this had slipped by them – how could they have been so stupid? – before she felt herself being tackled to the ground as a shot rang out in the ballroom, followed by shattering glass and even more screams.

Francis had fled in the confusion, and she saw Jean and Kain immediately take off towards the back of the ballroom, shouting for the other undercover officers to follow them. The gunshot was still ringing in her ears as she tried to shift underneath the man who had tackled her – and with growing dread Riza realised just who that man was, the blood already beginning to pool on the varnished wood beneath them.

“You fucking idiot,” she breathed, sitting up as quickly as she could manage without moving him. She couldn’t tell where the wound was yet – why did he have to wear a black tuxedo? Why couldn’t he be his ostentatious self for once? – only that the pool was growing steadily bigger and he was thankfully still breathing. First aid training began to filter through her jumbled thoughts. Find the wound. Stanch the bleeding. Elevate. Get to a doctor.

“Sir,” she said softly, ducking her head down to his, brushing away his hair that had fallen out of its slicked-back hairstyle. His forehead felt unnaturally warm and clammy. “Where’s the wound?”

“Leg,” he groaned back, rolling over onto his back with some difficulty and hissing as his head hit the floor. “Didn’t realise getting shot would hurt this much,” he managed as she carefully parted the tear in his fabric and sucked in her breath harshly. The wound was not as terrible as she had imagined – the bleeding wasn’t constant enough to have hit a vein, but the sluggish rate that it was managing was worrying her.

“I need a tourniquet,” Riza murmured, her hands hovering over the injury, only trembling slightly. Her heart was racing and she knew she had minutes at best before his blood loss would become critical, but she was finding it hard to concentrate between the ringing in her ears and his laboured breaths. How had this gone so fucking wrong?

“My jacket-” he began, but she cut him off, shaking her head.

“Too thick, won’t be able to apply enough pressure.” She looked wildly around the now deserted ballroom, vaguely aware of the screams from outside and the familiar wail of police sirens in the distance. The gauze of her peplum brushed against her legs as she sat up properly and she felt near to sobbing as she gripped the thin fabric and pulled harshly against the stitching.

“You’re an impossible man, I hope you know,” she managed as she continued to rip at the peplum harshly, rolling it up into a single length of fabric. She tested its strength, before nodding and shifting to sit directly in front on the wound, his blood uncomfortably warm and sticky against her bare legs.

He coughed, and then groaned. “And you’re the rudest nurse I’ve ever had. Has anybody told you off about your bedside manner?”

“Plenty of times, sir. Are you able to lift your leg, or should I?”

He shook his head slightly, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. “You better do it. I’ll just injure myself further and – FUCKING HELL RIZA!”

She ignored him, adjusting the position of the makeshift tourniquet before tying it as tightly as she could on his upper thigh. She lifted his leg against to secure the tautness of the knot and he hissed once more, muttering darkly under his breath. She glanced back to where his wound was on his lower thigh – it looked like the blood was stemming, but she couldn’t be sure. The sirens of the military police were growing louder. She had to get them out of here – their involvement in this operation had been extremely under the table and any time spent explaining why the Flame Alchemist had been shot in the leg was time that could otherwise be used getting him to a doctor. The military police were fine men and woman, but Riza didn’t have time to hold their hand and patiently explain everything to them. She bit her lip, thinking. The others would already be reconvening at the safe house, hopefully finding a doctor along the way – at the very least Jean would be watching for their exit.

She had to act fast. In a matter of minutes this place would be crawling with well-to-do but meddling officers. The closest entrance that would arouse the least suspicion was a small exit used by the staff – all the way across the room. The screams and cacophony outside was growing louder. They had to leave now.

“You won’t be able to walk, will you?” she asked quickly, shifting behind him to help him sit up. He shook his head.

“Not as fast as we’ll need to be. Let’s hope one of the boys is close by.”

“We’ll manage,” she replied shortly, moving to squat down in front of him, breathing deeply as he wound his arms tightly around her neck. They had one chance to get this lift right – otherwise it would be a disaster.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I trust you Riza,” he murmured and she snorted.

“That’s Lieutenant Hawkeye to you, sir. You’re not dying on me yet.”

He had grumbled and groused the entire time she carried him out of the building, whining that she was jostling him too harshly, but Riza didn’t care. So long as he kept talking – and talking like himself, the big baby – she could let herself relax a little. They were going to make it out of this. Roy would survive to live (and complain) another day.

It had been less fun ducking from the police. The block where the gala had been held had almost been completely cordoned off by the time she had made it outside, and it was only through sheer determination that she was never going to be asked why she was piggy-backing a full grown man through the alleyways of East City covered in blood that she was able to powerwalk onto the lesser known roads. Fuery’s safe house was only a couple more blocks away – the district they were in wasn’t the worst that East City had to offer, but it certainly wasn’t the cleanest either. Riza supposed she might actually fit in here, what with her torn and ruined dress, and blood congealing and flaking on her calves.

“We’re a right sight, sir,” she said as she waited for a lone car to pass them by before stepping out onto the street.

“Are we?” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck. “I thought you looked rather pretty tonight.”

“You did pick out the dress sir,” she replied dryly, looking down to make sure to see where the curb was. “I thought the peplum was a bit much, to be honest.”

“And yet it saved my life. I’m always thinking ahead Lieutenant.”

“Were you intending to get shot?” she reproached, ducking down another dark alleyway. There was a crash from a rubbish bin further up and Riza stopped in her tracks, fingers unconsciously reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

“Probably just a stray cat,” Roy said quietly after a moment of tense silence, tightening his hold around her neck as she swayed slightly under their combined weight. “The only people who will be looking for us are the ones we want to find us.”

“What about Francis?” she spat out, slowly starting to move once more. “We’ve got no idea if the officers we stationed outside did their fucking jobs-”

“I’m sure they did,” he soothed, pressing his lips against the taut muscles of her neck softly. “Just as you did your job brilliantly as well.”

She laughed bitterly. “You got shot. I think I’ve failed as your bodyguard if I can’t even protect you from a greasy old man with an even older revolver.”

Roy sighed in frustration. “You know as well as I do that that was not your fault in the slightest-”

She rounded the corner and stumbled slightly as she saw the familiar entrance to Fuery’s safe house. Jean was waiting by the entrance, smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke drift above him in lazy patterns.

“Hello Jacqueline,” she called out.

He jerked his head to where she stood, and quickly stubbed the cigarette out. “Old Frankie got caught out by the police that Heymans had stationed out by the kitchen entrance – you were right, he had a car waiting for him to take him over the border.” He smiled brightly at the two of them. “You guys get out okay?”

Riza nodded wearily, adjusting her arms slightly. Roy huffed in annoyance. “They’ve got the documents?” he asked.

Jean nodded, grinning broadly. “Every fuckin’ incriminating one. He’s going away for a long time Chief.”

Roy nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder, awkwardly trying to manoeuvre around the ruffled fabric adornment that jutted out from her right shoulder. “You got a doctor for me Havoc?” he asked grumpily. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get this bullet out of me.”

Jean nodded hastily, quickly running down the steps to meet them at the bottom. “My car is just down the road, you’re okay to keep carrying him?”

Riza sighed and shook her head. “What’s a few more metres?”

The ride to the clinic had been quick – Jean drove like a madman at the best of times, and with the streets practically deserted at the late hour meant that Roy was quickly passed along to a doctor who muttered darkly about kids these days while accepting a thick sealed envelope from Riza.

“You did a good job,” the doctor said to Riza, not even blinking at the sight she must have made in the harsh light of the clinic. “If you hadn’t made a tourniquet for him I’m not sure I could’ve helped you.”

Riza nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly as she felt the exhaustion from the night’s events start to kick in. “Thank you, doctor. Please don’t take his whining to heart.”

The doctor gave a toothy grin.

Jean paused. “I just realised. You carried him to Fuery’s in heels from the hotel. In heels?”

Riza opened her mouth to respond, and shut it, shaking her head in bewilderment. “Would adrenaline be a good enough excuse?” she asked, running a hand through what remained of the small braids Roy had done earlier that afternoon. “I honestly wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting us away from the police.”

Jean let out a low whistle. “We’re getting married after this Elizabeth,” he said as they watched the doctor begin to cut up Roy’s trousers. “We’ll get a little shack out in the country where I can watch you running after sheep in your magnificent heels for the rest of our lives.” His arm slung around her shoulders loosely and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

Roy snorted.

She let out a watery chuckle, and suddenly she found herself being pulled properly into the taller man’s chest, vaguely aware of Roy protesting behind her. “She’s fine, chief,” she heard Jean say, his hands warm on her back, careful not to shift her hair. “You worry about yourself – we’ll go get some fresh air and clean ourselves up.”

He guided her firmly out of the small clinic, forcing her to sit down on the wooden bench outside. His face looked tired in the light bleeding in from the clinic, highlighting the deep lines of worry. He kneeled in front of her, his hands resting on her bloodied knees. “Don’t go blaming yourself for this, Riza – none of us-”

“We should’ve-” she began, but he shook his head.

“Nobody could anticipate a gun. It’s certainly not his M.O.” Jean sighed, grasping her bloodied hands in his own. “We’ll debrief tomorrow, look at where we went wrong, and learn from our mistakes. You’re in shock right now, and I need to get you clean. Is it just his blood?”

Riza bit her lip and nodded.

Jean sighed deeply. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t move.”

She felt the warmth from his body wash over him as he walked back into the clinic. No matter how Jean tried to frame it, this wasn’t a victory. Roy had been needlessly shot – she had allowed herself to be put in danger and it had nearly jeopardised the entire operation. Months had been sunk into catching this monster and it had almost unravelled for reasons she couldn’t yet understand. Why had Francis pulled the gun on her? She thought she had played her part well of the stumbling, ditzy socialite – where had she failed? It didn’t make sense.

It was hard to breathe. Hard to see – when the door to the clinic opened again she could only see blurred shapes through her tears. Jean’s hands were soft on her face as he tried to calm her down, thumbs rubbing at her cheekbones. She hated feeling weak like this – feeling useless. She could have died in that ballroom, brain matter and blood splattered around her head like some kind of unholy crown. He could have died.

Jean slowly went about cleaning her palms of the sticky, congealing blood, the small towel quickly turning an awful salmon colour. Her legs came next, Jean scrubbing them down as best he could. She sat there, and tried her best not to sob.

Jean sat down next to her on the bench and grasped her hands tightly in his own, murmuring about how none of this was any of their faults, and Francis had been caught with the evidence they needed to lock him up. She didn’t know how long they sat there, Jean rubbing her hands and continually talking in low tones. She focused on the faint sounds of traffic in the distance, trained her eyes to the haze that was the East City CBD. She focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out

The doctor poked his head out the door. “Your man is all finished. He has some medication for pain but otherwise will heal fine. Bring him back in a week so I can check on the stitches, but so long as he doesn’t do any exercise he’ll be okay.”

“Thank you doctor,” Jean replied, standing up and shaking the doctor’s hand. “We’re very grateful to you.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you are. Now bugger off, I’ve got a warm bed I want to return to.”

They helped Roy back into the car, and Jean quickly made his way through the deserted city to Roy’s apartment. The street was deserted as they helped him up the steps, and Riza mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the blond man as Roy unlocked his front door, extending a hand for Riza to grasp.

It was quiet in his apartment as they shuffled around in the dark, trying their best not to wake Hayate who was asleep on the couch. It didn’t matter – the dog immediately perked his head up when they walked past but instead remained on the couch, watching the two of them slowly divest their clothes. Roy disappeared down the hall to his bedroom and Riza made herself a cup of tea, curling up on the couch and absently rubbing Hayate’s head. She was about ready to drop dead on her feet – quite literally, she wasn’t looking forward to the blisters that would undoubtedly appear on her feet tomorrow. Tomorrow would present its own challenges: finding out exactly what went wrong in their reconnaissance to grossly miscalculate a fucking gun. Riza sighed, and placed the still-warm mug on the coffee table, careful not to topple any of the paperwork piled up on the small table. Dropping a soft kiss on her dog’s head, she padded her way down to Roy’s bedroom, and began to undo the zip on what remained of the dress – most of it was certainly beyond repair now. She draped it over the chair next to the dresser, and quickly threw her bra onto the ground.

“Don’t bother with a shower,” Roy said lowly, already hogging most of the blankets on the bed. “I already smell like a hospital. We’ll even each other out.”

Riza snorted, taking off her earrings and placing them on the overcrowded dresser. “And the girls say you’re nothing but charm,” she teased, grabbing an old t-shirt from his laundry pile and putting it on. She sat next to him on the bed and started to undo what was left of the intricate hairstyle she had begun with that evening: her fringe was already beginning to kink in the worst ways as she took out the pins and untangled the knots left behind.

“I don’t care about what the girls say,” he replied, pulling at the edge of her shirt. She slid into bed next to him and she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply as his hands drew lazy patterns over her hips. “I have you,” he murmured quietly, kissing her head softly.

fin

[aquietwritingcorner]

Sicktember Day 26: Strep Throat/Laryngitis Word Count: 1176 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, Team Mustang Warning: Summary: Hawkeye has Laryngitis. A general is expecting her to give a demonstration speech, or it will reflect poorly on Mustang. Luckily, Havoc has an idea! Notes: AO3 || ff.net

__________________________________________

Laryngitis

Hawkeye coughed, and then tipped up the glass to drink some more. She made an awful face as she did, but kept drinking it, stopping halfway through. Then she cleared her throat and opened her mouth.

“Hhhhh…”

The men in the room all sat back, frustration and disappointment clear on their faces.

“Well, that’s it, then. We’ve tried every quick fix that we can,” Mustang said. “Hawkeye’s laryngitis isn’t going to clear up.”

“What does that mean about her presentation, sir?” Falman asked.

Mustang frowned. “We’ll have to cancel and reschedule or get someone else to do it.”

Breda shook his head. “That’s not going to work, and you know it. General Wallace has you in his crosshairs. He expects Hawkeye to give this class to the sniper corps and no one else. If she doesn’t, or it has to be rescheduled, he’s going to take it out on you.”

Mustang huffed. “I know, but what else can we do?” He glanced at Hawkeye, who looked apologetic, and shook his head. “No, don’t feel bad, Lieutenant. It isn’t as if you had any control over it. We’ll just have to figure out what to do.”

No one said anything, no solutions to the problem jumping to mind. General Wallace was one of the higher ranked generals. He wasn’t high enough to be on the council, but he was well placed. He happened to be friendly with General Hakuro, which meant that neither of them was especially fond of Mustang. They took any misstep, any slight, and blew it up as high as it would go. He was here in Central, and had decided to throw his weight around a little, bullying a situation into Hawkeye giving a demonstration and talk to the sniper corps. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but she knew when she had no choice, and would do it to maintain Mustang’s position.

An unfortunate bought of laryngitis was putting all of that into jeopardy, though.

“It’s too bad there’s not a way to transmit your thoughts to them,” Fuery said with a sigh.

Havoc sat up straighter. “Wait—actually, that might not be a bad idea.”

All heads swiveled to him.

“Look, one of the key components of working on the field is non-verbal communication, right? You can’t always hear your teammates. We all know the standard codes that they teach us, but once you’re in the field, one of the biggest differences is how well you can read your team, right? What if, instead of Hawkeye speaking, she stays quiet and brings in someone else on the team to translate for her—showing that getting to know your teammates is paramount in doing your job well.”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Mustang said, rubbing his chin. “Of course, I would be the best—”

He cut off as Hawkeye swung her arm up, pointing at Havoc.

“Hey—what! No way! You know that you and I read each other very we—”

She turned on him, hands on her hips, jaw set, and a glare in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly and sunk her head down just a bit as if emphasizing something. She moved her head around a bit and let out a huff through her nose.

“Yeah, well…” Mustang trailed off, and then he sighed. “Yes… yes, of course, you’re right. It would make things too obvious.” He glanced at Havoc. “Think you can do it?”

Havoc grinned “If I don’t, I’m sure she’ll shoot me to tell me I’ve got it wrong.”

Hawkeye rolled her eyes and spun on her heel go back to her desk.

Havoc didn’t have to be a genius to know an exasperated yes when he saw one.

The day of the presentation dawned a bit cool and cloudy. Havoc and Hawkeye were already waiting on the shooting range, Havoc a bit nervous that he’d agreed to all of this. She smiled at him, though, patting his shoulder for reassurance.

It helped a little.

All too soon, General Wallace and the group with him came pouring onto the training grounds. Havoc and Hawkeye both saluted and, as soon as he allowed them to release their salutes, Havoc started talking.

“Good morning, General Wallace. We’re going to—”

“What is this!” Wallace demanded. “We’re here to be taught by the legendary Hawk’s Eye, not you.”

“Yes, sir,” Havoc said. “But if you’ll just—”

Wallace’s attention switched to Hawkeye. “Lieutenant, I demand that you take over teaching this class immediately, as promised.”

Hawkeye, her gaze, cool, sure, and steely, held up a finger, as if asking the general to wait a moment, the gestured to Havoc. The general looked ready to blow again, but Havoc took over anyway.

“As I was saying,” he said, “Lieutenant Hawkeye decided to take a bit of an unorthodox approached to teaching this class. She’s not only going to talk about the fundamentals of being a sniper, of care for your weapon, of common knowledge that you learn on the field, but she’s going to put an emphasis on how knowing your teammates can help a sniper function better. This will be demonstrated in the way that we have learned to read each other. I will be speaking for Lieutenant Hawkeye, and she’ll let me know if I miss anything or mess anything up.” He glanced at her. “But hopefully not by shooting me.”

The assembled students laughed, and Hawkeye shot him a look.

“Ah, yes… She’s currently reminding me of rule number one: Never aim at a target if you’re not willing to shoot said target. That’s followed by rule two: If you’re willing to shoot a target, accept that you can kill the target.”

Hawkeye nodded, pleased, and then turned around, sniper rifle in hand.

“Alrighty,” Havoc said. “Who’s ready to start with general gun knowledge, care, and safety!”

The lesson took up all of the morning and stretched into the afternoon, Havoc spoke for Hawkeye the entire time, and not once slipped up. Hawkeye, for her part, demonstrated things extraordinarily well. Even their demonstration of being able to read each other in the field went swimmingly. They could tell that General Wallace wasn’t pleased, as it wasn’t what he was expecting, but it was hard to deny that teaching the lesson that way had done good. The students walked away with a new appreciation of reading body language and their team.

By the time it was over, they were both tired and hungry, and more than ready to pack it up.

“You know,” Havoc said as they gathered their things and started walking. “That wasn’t so bad. We’ve got a real rapport going on!”

Hawkeye glanced at him, smiled, and nodded.

“…If you ever wanna leave Mustang, I think you and I could—”

Hawkeye gave him a sharp shove, hard enough to send him stumbling, but Havoc just laughed, knowing that Hawkeye knew that he was teasing.

Sometimes it was nice to know that your team could read you and had your back.

[honkytonkdyke]

"Cough the hospital one in the last row" 👀 Please can you do that prompt? I would love to read your take on it 🤩❤️

ANON!!!! i was so glad you and @klainelynch requested this one, i had to get my fill of hospital royai!!

sharing a bed trope bingo - it was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night (these are still open btw!!)

also on ao3

The night starts with the loud clunk of an empty metal bedpan. Riza’s eyes are shut, but she’s not asleep, due to being elevated on a stack of three pillows to keep fluid from accumulating in her neck. She hears him curse under his breath.

Riza sighs and opens her eyes to see the Colonel as he stands from his hospital bed and shakily grabs the bedpost. He tests out taking a step forward and quickly moves his hand from the post to the table between them to steady himself.

“Colonel,” she says, her voice slightly strained, “what are you doing?”

Roy takes another step forward and moves his hand to the rail on her hospital bed. He slowly turns on his heel and lowers himself onto the mattress, letting out a deep exhale as he relaxes his weight.

Riza’s eyes go to the door. While she’s sure the colonel won’t cross into the line of legality, she doesn’t want a nurse entering and interrupting. She shifts over in her bed very slightly to give the colonel room to lay, but, in the small hospital bed, her accommodation doesn’t make much of a difference.

“You aren’t resting, Lieutenant,” Roy says and moves to lay against the pillow. He’s sandwiched between the metal rail and Riza’s body. “Are you in pain?” His voice is quiet, concerned.

The lieutenant shakes her head. “They gave me medicine about an hour ago,” she whispers, unable to speak any louder. “It’s slowly starting to kick in.”

Roy brings his hands from his sides to rest over his stomach, and as they shift closer together, she groans ever so softly. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” she answers immediately, “No, sir. You aren’t.” Due to her incline, she’s higher up on the bed than Roy is, and she’s got a perfect view of the top of his head. His hair is slicked with oil and in desperate need of a wash. Without thinking, she lifts her hands out from under him and touches the strands, working through each knot with her fingers.

Roy hums as he relaxes. “How bad does it look, Lieutenant?” he asks. “And be honest with me.”

“I’ve never seen your hair in such a matted state, or at least not since you went eight months without a cut while you were staying with my father.” Her arms tire and she brings them from his scalp, letting her arms fall against his. “I’ll have to wash your hair for you tomorrow.” She pauses for a moment and adds, “As long as that’s what you want.”

Roy looks up, his sightless eyes lingering around hers, never once making true contact. “I’d love for you to,” he says and smiles.

Her heart feels as though it might beat out of her chest, and she’s sure he can hear it. After a moment of stillness, Riza almost jumps out of her skin when he takes her hand, the one that’s resting against his forearm.

Roy moves again, and this time he rests his head against the lower part of her ribcage, his chin resting atop her stomach. “Will you be able to rest like this, Lieutenant?”

Riza grazes the side of his cheek with her free hand before she rests her hand against his head, tangling her fingers in the strands of his unwashed hair.

“Yes,” she says, closing her eyes. “I think I will.”

And just like that, the night slips away.

[existentialspacecowboy]

Deadeye

A Royai Cowboy/Western AU inspired by @5hio and written as a part of @wastelandwolff’s Cowboytober 2020.

She’s the sharpest shooter across the whole frontier, and he starts bar fights for fun. 

Roy Mustang props up the bar like he’s a permanent staple. At this point, he might as well be. He’s spending money he cannot afford to all in the pursuit of futile pleasure and, well, being blind drunk is about all the fun a disgraced ex-sheriff can have.

He’s been in this town for a little while now, he’s not sure just how long but his position at the bar is a well-worn groove, the knot in the mahogany bar-top his familiar propping post.

He frowns when a sudden, un-characteristic silence befalls the saloon. Blinking a few times to regain some semblance of concentration, he throws a scant glance in the direction of the woman who has caused such a stir.

Nearby, Roy can’t help but overhear the muttered musings of two fellow drunkards; “Hawk in name and hawk by nature, she’s the deadliest sharpshooter there is. A real deadeye.”

Looking at her, Roy never would have guessed. He supposes there is a severeness about her, an intensity in her amber eyes, but there’s a softness in her face too and a gentleness in the curve of her jaw.

He realises he’s staring.

Turning back to the neck of his bottle, he swallows a hefty mouthful. The moonshine always hits his stomach like a freight-train, but that’s just how he likes it. It helps him to forget who he is and feel something besides the shame he shoulders each day.

Roy hasn’t shaven in days and hasn’t washed in even longer. There’s no way someone like her would ever pay him a second glance. He smells of booze, and reeks of disappointment; he’s not even sure that his aunt would look him in the eyes at this point. And even if she did, he’s not sure that she’d like what she’d see in them.

As the woman moves through the saloon, settling on a bar stool just a few feet away from him, Roy notes the way the room once again fills with the sound of casual conversations and the dulcet tones of a poorly tuned piano. 

Stroking a hand down his face, the four-day stubble scratches at his palm whilst he shakes the bottle in his free hand.

Almost empty.

Sighing, he takes his final mouthful, eyes once again on her. So engrossed, the man hardly notices when his bottle runs dry.  

But it does run dry.

In what is a familiar motion, Roy reaches into his pocket fumbling around for the necessary coin to fuel his next round, but he stops when his fingers don’t brush anything cool.

His eyes grow wide.

“Shit.”

Roy is faced with two choices; accept defeat and embrace sobriety, and its associated hangover, or find some way to keep drinking. He knows which choice he should choose, but he also knows which choice he wants to follow. 

And the barman’s back is turned.

Craning his neck over the bar, Roy slots his mouth beneath one of the pumps, his hand clumsily reaching for the tap and tugging on it. He sighs, relieved, as ale gushes into his mouth, and it’s the closest thing to ecstasy he’s experienced in a very long time.

But like all other joys in Roy’s life as of late, it’s short-lived.

Roy’s stupor is rudely interrupted by a pair of large hands that grab him roughly by his collar. He swallows, looking up at the barkeep with doe-eyes. He’s reminded of all the times his aunt had scorned him for swiping dessert prematurely, and how he’d used these same innocent eyes to wrangle himself out of trouble every time.

Except, on this occasion, it doesn’t seem to work.

Roy swallows more thickly this time, forced bravado on his face, “Hey, I’ve spent days keeping this place in business, and I don’t even get one free drink? Talk about poor hospitality.”

Big mistake.

The barkeep’s face flushes a furious red, his jaw clenched and his hold on Roy’s collar intensifying.

“All you’ve done is stink up my damn bar for the past week, and now you’re stealing from me?”

Roy relents, immediately on the backfoot, “Look, I’m just a little low on funds right now. I’ll get the cash and –”

Ouch.

Roy’s hands dart upwards towards his face, cradling his nose that has just been fiercely sucker-punched.

There’s blood on his hands.

Quickly, the same blood that flows through Roy’s veins beings to boil, his quick temper sparking instantaneously into a raging inferno. He surges upwards, crashing the upper side of his forehead against the underside of the barman’s jaw.

The man’s hold on him releases, and Roy wipes his nose with the cuff of his jacket, something like a real smile on his face.

“Damn, that feels good!” He declares brazenly, arms open and ready for his next attack, “Show me what you’ve really got you hulking oaf.”

But it isn’t just the barkeep this time.

There’s three men, all significantly taller than him, all with rage written across their features and they’re all skulking towards him.

Roy responds confidently, raising his hands and a wry smile plays at his bloodied lips, “Alright, gents, I’m sure we can talk about this.”

Cockily, he swings for the shortest of the men, but his fist is caught midway through its trajectory before it can make any bone-shattering contact. Colour draining from his face, Roy finds himself backed against a corner with the eyes of the whole saloon on him.

Caught by his throat, and hoisted with his back against the wall, he lashes out with his feet, desperately trying to make contact with one of the men and send them reeling, hopefully with their hands clutching the space between their legs. 

He’d stand a chance of landing a blow sober, but the cards are stacked against him whilst drunk.

A wheeze is forced from his lungs as one of the lackeys lays into his stomach, knocking the wind from him.

The grip on his throat tightens.

He can’t breathe.

All bravado gone, he scrambles desperately to try and pull the hands from around his throat, but his vision is closing in, and there’s an eerie screaming in his ears. It’s a ringing so loud that he doesn’t register the shot for a few seconds but when he does, it’s a shot that snaps him quickly into sobriety.

Spluttering, Roy drags in a deep breath, coughing on the exhale as he sinks to the floor, slumping against the wall as he cradles his throat. He lifts his eyes, noting that one of the oafs has a bullet hole-shaped chunk missing from one ear, and they’re wailing about it like a child.

It brings a sly smile to Roy’s face.

Glancing around, he seeks out the figure of his saviour. Eyes travelling up the lines of their legs, the curve of their waist and, up past their chest, he meets those honey-brown eyes; the ones that had first caught his attention when she’d stepped into the bar.

It’s her. The Deadeye.

And she’s offering him her hand.

He takes it without a second thought, and she hauls him to his feet in one smooth motion.

He smiles at her, but she’s already turned to the barkeep, her pistol once again holstered in the belt at her hip, “I’d say his tab is settled, wouldn’t you agree?”

The man simply nods, cradling his still-bleeding ear.

Roy watches as she turns to leave, unsure if the instruction is to follow her or simply make himself very scarce very quickly.

Either way, he isn’t about to hang around for half a second longer.

He follows close behind on her heels, trousers all but brushing the spikes of her spurs as she walks.

“Thank you,” Roy says, the words spilling awkwardly out of his mouth. He’s unsure how someone like her will react. She’s dangerous but she’s also the first person to show him kindness in months. And, for that reason, Roy isn’t willing to lose sight of her so easily.

She replies with a cursory glance over her shoulder and a simple shrug, “Couldn’t exactly just sit there and watch them beat you to a bloody pulp. Would’ve really put a dampener on my own drink.”

Roy chuckles.

“Even so,” he begins, “I’m just not sure why you’d step in to help someone like me.”

She says nothing.

And Roy decides it’s best to not press her about it any further.

They walk the rest of the way to the hitching post in silence. By her steed’s side sits a black and white mutt with a pink tongue which wags loosely out of the side of its mouth upon first sight of its mistress returning. The dog starts leaping up at her.

“Sit, Hayate,” the woman instructs coolly, before stooping to reward the dog with a scratch behind its ear.

Roy can’t help but smile at the scene.

“Nice dog,” he says conversationally with an easy smile.

The woman smiles at that and does something that Roy doesn’t quite expect.

She offers him her hand again.

“They call me a deadeye with a gun,” she explains. “But I prefer Riza. Riza Hawkeye.”

He takes her hand and shakes it.

“Pleasure. My name’s Roy. Roy Mustang.”

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (50/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] [40] [41] [42] [43] [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] [49] [AO3]

Summary: The citizens of Resembool take the next steps of their lives and look forward to a better future.

Characters: Everyone!

Pairing: Trisha/Hohenheim

==

“It feels like a mass exodus. I don’t think we’ve ever had so many people leave the village at the same time. Resembool’s going to be empty soon.”

Trisha can only laugh at Pinako’s summation of the day, but she has to admit that it is going to be pretty quiet around here after today. They’re gathered at the train station, ready to see off the great adventurers, and it does feel like the entire rest of the town has come to wave them all off as well. 

It’s finally time for the grand plans to be put into place. The Ishval Restoration Project has been given the go ahead, and the veterans are heading out there today to begin the first steps towards helping the region reclaim its former glory. Fahim and Imrul are naturally going too; Trisha knows that Resembool would never become their permanent home whilst there was the slightest chance of Ishval’s restoration, and she’s so happy that they finally get to go back to their birthplace and help it grow again. Trisha sees Dr Maalik saying his goodbyes to the Rockbells as well; he’s been in two minds about going back out to Ishval for a long time, enjoying the work he’s been doing in Resembool and feeling that he’s too old to be part of something so new, but ultimately he couldn’t resist the chance to see his homeland again, and make sure that his last memories of it are not of pain and bloodshed.

Ab, Alex, Tim, Roy and Riza are heading out East as well, hoping to finally be able to atone and make amends for everything that they did during the war, putting their guilt and grief to good, productive use at last, learning to live with it and make it into something rather than letting it fester away within them. Hughes has come from Central to see them off; he’ll be heading out there later but Elysia’s starting school in two months and he wouldn’t miss that day for anything. 

Trisha looks along the platform, through the gaggles of people, looking for Ed and Al as they try to say goodbye to everyone they’ve ever met. They’re tagging along for the life experience, helping out with laying the groundwork for a few months before they continue east to make the pilgrimage to their own ancestral home.

(Van is in two minds about joining them on the journey out to Xerxes, and Trisha will support him in whatever he decides to do.)

Winry is running around the platform with Den at her heels trying to say goodbye to everyone before she has to go and catch the train in the other direction, heading down towards Rush Valley to begin her apprenticeship in the heart of the country’s automail empire. She’s alternating between saying her goodbyes and giving Imrul last minute instructions for taking care of his arm in the desert conditions.

So many of them are leaving, but although they’ll be gone for a long time, Trisha cannot bring herself to feel at all melancholy. She knows that she’ll see all of them again at some point, this isn’t a final separation. She’s just so happy that everything seems to be coming around to a perfect conclusion. Everyone is leaving towards a happy and exciting future. It will be challenging, no one’s saying that rebuilding a razed country from the ground up is going to be easy and they’re all aware of the difficulties coming their way, but there’s so much anticipation and drive in the air that Trisha knows they’ll get through whatever life throws at them. 

In a way, it’s a good job that Resembool is a small station and everyone knows everyone else, and all the train drivers know Joe and their regular passengers, because the delays that are going to be caused by all of the farewells going on will be absolutely phenomenal. Trisha’s beginning to think that Joe just altered the timetable especially for today, as no one seems to be too concerned with ushering people onto the trains, or getting the trains to actually leave the station. All the same, they’ll have to start moving soon, and she hasn’t said a proper goodbye to either of her sons. It’s the first time that they’re leaving her for longer than a simple overnight stay at a friend’s house, and as happy as she is that they’re branching out and living their own lives, there’s a large part of her that feels a natural mother’s worry and has a primal need to know that they’re all right. 

She grabs Van’s hand, dragging him through the crowds and sidestepping the massive gaggle of Alex’s family who have all come to see him off. Even Olivier’s come down from Briggs for the occasion, although she maintains that it’s because she’s seeing off Miles, and Alex’s departure is completely incidental. Trisha doesn’t know Olivier well enough to make a judgement call on the truth of that statement, but she thinks that she sees some fondness in her eyes as she and Alex get in their last bout of arguing for a while. 

At last she finds Ed and Al saying goodbye to Winry before she heads over the bridge to the other train and a private leave-taking with her parents and grandma. Of course, there are well-wishes and hugs to be given, and they all wave her off as the westbound train leaves. Soon though, it’s off in the distance and Trisha and Van are left with their boys, the four of them in their own private square of platform, not paying any attention to anyone else. 

Trisha draws both of them into a tight hug, ignoring Ed’s admittedly feeble protests that he’s too old for this kind of treatment. 

“You’re never too old for a Mom hug, especially when she’s not going to see you for months,” she murmurs, feeling Van’s arms come around all of them. “Just be careful out there. I know you’ve got Tim and the others looking out for you in Ishval, but when you head out to the desert…”

“We’ll have a whole escort of Ishvalans going with us to see the refugees in Xerxes,” Ed points out. “We’ll be fine, Mom. We’ll write, you know that. And after all, you and Dad might be coming too.”

“I know. But I’m your mother. I’m always going to be worried about you.” She sighs. “I’m so happy for you both. I’m so pleased that you’re forging your own path like this. Make the most of it. We’ll still be here when you get back.”

That’s the wonderful thing about Resembool. No matter who arrives and who leaves, it will always be the same steady, dependable place. It will always be the same safe haven, its core values passed down along the generations for centuries to come. It’s always a place that people can come home to. 

Eventually, the farewells really can’t be put off any longer, and everyone and everything is at last loaded onto the train. Trisha waves them off, staying on the platform long after the rest of the well-wishers have begun to disperse and the train is well over the horizon towards Ishval. 

Van puts an arm around her shoulders and kisses her temple. 

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“It’s going to be so empty without them,” Trisha laments, but she lets him guide her away from the station nonetheless. 

“I know. It’s going to be so quiet.” Van seems to be looking forward to that part, and Trisha laughs, leaning into his side as they make their way back up the hill towards home. It’ll be strange, having the entire place to themselves again for the first time since Ed came onto the scene. It’ll take a bit of getting used to, but ultimately it’s just the next phase of their lives, just as the boys have started on the next phase of theirs. 

It’s a brand new chapter, and Trisha is very much looking forward to finding out what it will bring them.

[victoryclaimedarchived]

since a few people liked my post about her last night, i decided i'd post her info here ! ( death mention tw. )

bonus younger haruhi !

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Haruhi Makoto NICKNAME(S): N/A PREFERRED NAME(S): Haruhi ( by those she is close to and familiar with ), Makoto by those she is not familiar with / her students BIRTH DATE: July 3rd AGE: 30 ZODIAC: Cancer GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: she/her SPECIES: Human ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual NATIONALITY: Japanese LIVING CONDITIONS: apartment near U.A ( pre-dorms ), on U.A campus ( post-dorms ) CODENAME: AMARA 

BACKGROUND

SOCIAL CLASS: Lower Class EDUCATION LEVEL: U.A graduate   FATHER: Yamato Takayuki, deceased MOTHER: Ren Takayuki, deceased SIBLING(S): None BIRTH ORDER: N/A CHILDREN: Kosuke Makoto PET(S):  Ichiro, a siamese cat ( reference ) OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: None PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Kaoru Makoto, deceased  ARRESTS?: None. PRISON TIME?: None.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Teaching at U.A High ( Teacher for Heroic Defenses / 1-C Homeroom teacher ) SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Hero work through her agency  TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: N/A APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: Varies CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: Haruhi often times misses working out in the field but now only does so when necessary. However, she wouldn’t have accepted a position at U.A if she didn’t enjoy teaching. PAST JOB(S): Various SPENDING HABITS: aruhi is very careful with her spending. With it just being her and her son, she wants to make sure they can live comfortably and that means only buying what is neccessary. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION(S):  Her wedding ring that she keeps locked in her drawer at home.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 7/10 OFFENSE: 7/10 DEFENSE: 10/10 SPEED: 8/10 INTELLIGENCE: 8/10 ACCURACY: 9/10 AGILITY: 8/10 STAMINA: 9/10 TEAMWORK: 8/10 TALENTS: Cooking, baking, sewing, playing the violin, making sweaters for cats ( mostly for Ichiro ), tba LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Japanese, English DRIVE?:  Yes. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: No. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: No. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes. SWIM?: Yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: Yes. PLAY CHESS?: No. BRAID HAIR?: Yes TIE A TIE?: Yes PICK A LOCK?: Yes. POWER(S)/ABILITY(IES): Haruhi’s quirk is SOLID ENERGY. Her quirk allows her to solidify her energy and use it however she sees fit ! During her years as a U.A student, she was training to get it to work as a sword, but after her husband’s death, she switched her tactics primarily over to defensive moves. Though she can still manifest her energy into a sword, she prefers to use SHIELDS and force field type shields during RESCUES.

The time limit and strength of the shield depend on how much energy she has. Her time limits, depending on how she uses her quirk, range from 5 minutes to half an hour. If she pushes herself, she can reach an hour but risks passing out in the battlefield.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Riza Hawkeye VOICE CLAIM: tba  EYE COLOR: Pink HAIR COLOR: Blonde SCENT: Apples & watermelon HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Mid-back, straight ( reference ) GLASSES/CONTACTS?:  No/No DOMINANT HAND: Ambidextrous  HEIGHT: 5'4" WEIGHT: 120 lbs BUILD: Mesomorph EXERCISE HABITS: routine varies day to day SKIN TONE: Peachy, warm tones. TATTOOS: tba. PEIRCINGS: Ears. MARKS/SCARS: Varying in size and shape all over her body from her days at U.A and when she was much more active at her agency. NOTABLE FEATURES: Her eyes. USUAL EXPRESSION: Stern, but not unkind CLOTHING STYLE: casual ; hero gear ( reference ) ALLERGIES: None. BODY TEMPERATURE: Average.  DIET: tba ; healthy  PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None.

PSYCHOLOGY

MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE: tba ENNEAGRAM TYPE: tba MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good TEMPERAMENT: tba ELEMENT: tba PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: tba APPROXIMATE IQ: tba MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: Depression, PTSD, anxiety EMOTIONAL STABILITY: tba OBSESSION(S): tba COMPULSION(S): tba PHOBIA(S): tba ADDICTION(S): tba DRUG USE: No. ALCOHOL USE: No. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?:  No.

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: Calm, confident. ACCENT: None. QUIRKS: tba HOBBIES: Hanging out with friends, trying new foods, coming up with new ways to test her students HABITS: tba NERVOUS TICKS: goes to touch her left ring finger ( though the ring is no longer there ) DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Trying to make the world a better place so that people don’t have to senselessly die FEARS: Losing Kosuke, getting hurt enough that Kosuke would lose her POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, determined, kind, patient, protective, energetic NEGATIVE TRAITS: guarded, doesn’t like to talk about her negative emotions, stubborn, cautious SENSE OF HUMOR:  silly ; soft DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: No CATCHPHRASE(S): None.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: tba GREATEST FEAR: tba MOST AT EASE WHEN: tba LEAST AT EASE WHEN: tba WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: tba BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: tba BIGGEST REGRET: tba. MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: tba. BIGGEST SECRET:tba TOP PRIORITIES: tba

Teacher of HEROIC DEFENSES and homeroom teacher to class 1-C, Makoto Haruhi is a person who has seen, first hand, what the life of being a hero is like and how it can affect a person. Despite her hardships and pain, she continues to strive to be the best role model she can be, someone her students can turn to should they need someone to listen.

Caring and determined, she is also a mother of a ten year old boy named Kosuke, who is the splitting image of her, and her time as a mother, she believes, has helped her become a better teacher. Her son will sometimes sit in on her classes when his own is out of school.

Haruhi was seventeen when she met Makoto Kaoru, a promising young man, with a speed quirk, who had started working at her agency the year before she began there herself. The chemistry was instant, and though they both denied any feelings towards one another, they eventually gave in and began dating soon after Haruhi’s eighteenth birthday. They were drawn to each other like moths to a flame and they were head over heels for one another.

Within the year, they were married and moved in together, planning out their entire lives ; children, vacation spots—and all was well until Kaoru’s brother was killed by a villain a year later. Kaoru, always driven by his emotions, was swallowed by grief and revenge. Despite Haruhi’s best efforts and those of their friends, Kaoru would stop at nothing. Though she and friends showed up to help Kaoru fight, they had gotten there too late, after Kaoru had been gravely injured.

Haruhi had been the one to catch him, using her quirk to throw up a shield around them as others fought to take the villain down. It was in this moment, when Kaoru realized he would not live much longer, that Haruhi told him through her sobs that they were going to have a baby. With his dying breath, Kaoru apologized for rushing ahead, regretting that he would not be there for their child. Eventually, Haruhi had to be pried away from her deceased husband, and after the funeral, her friends helped her move from their home into a tiny apartment.

She took a break from the heroics, instead earning a job at U.A as their heroic defenses teacher, where she decided to stay even after Kosuke was born.

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 13 - sledding

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | prompt list can be found here

read on ao3

rated: g | words: 1004

The slopes were crowded with families and powdered snow was kicked up into the air as people sped past on their skis or wooden sleds. Laughter filled the air and the atmosphere was electric as the winter sun beat down on those playing and having fun.

Despite this being a small corner of the north, it was certainly busy. The location was picked so they could hide away for their holiday and venture out into the world without the need to worry about who was watching. And it worked extremely well.

Riza felt like a child again, spending time with Roy in the winter before he returned home to his family for the holidays. Speeding down the hill on a wooden sled transported her back to her hometown where they’d done the same thing. The two of them had crammed themselves onto the one sled back then and they’d made it work. Roy had gripped her tightly while Riza hung onto his arms for dear life to avoid falling off.

They tried that again today but not five seconds had passed before Roy fell off the back into a heap on the snow. Riza dug her heels into the snow to stop the sled. She turned, seeing him look very disgruntled with snow in his hair and all over his clothes.

“Shall we try that again?” Riza tried to keep her face straight and neutral as she asked her question. She really did. However a snort left her, and she was laughing at his scowl before she knew it.

He muttered something under his breath as he stood to dust the snow off his legs.

“You might need your own sled now,” Riza added as she passed by him. “I think you’re too big to fit on the back with me now.”

“Yeah,” he muttered glumly as he trudged back up the hill with her.

“You sound very sad about it,” Riza commented. Her head tipped forward so she could get a better look at his face.

Roy sighed. “I just thought it would be fun to go down together. I should’ve been better prepared.”

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her arm slid underneath his and wrapped around Roy’s back. “You prepared this trip wonderfully.”

His arm lifted to rest upon her shoulders, squeezing her tightly against his side. “I know, but…” Roy sighed again.

“Every part of this has been perfect.” She poked his stomach. “It was a lovely surprise.”

“I’m glad,” he whispered against her head. A kiss was pressed into the wool of her hat before Roy let her go and retrieved the sled from her hands.

“Do you want to go first?”

“Yeah, I can do it.”

Roy settled himself onto the wood and Riza kept a grip on his shoulders while he tucked his feet into the footholds. It kept him still and steady while he got comfortable, stopping him from rushing down the hill prematurely before he was secure.

“Ready?” She gave his shoulders a quick squeeze.

“Ready!”

Riza let go, giving him a light push. His descent started slowly before picking up considerable speed. She watched on with a smile, excited for her own turn.

But Roy hit something, making him rock violently from side to side. Then he careened through a snow drift which lifted the sled off the ground. He came back down to earth hard and tipped, falling off the sled at a fast pace and slamming into the snow on his side before rolling once or twice.

“Roy!”

Riza hurried down the slope, sliding through the deeper parts of the snow and tripping through a snow drift. He was lying face down in the snow and unmoving.

“Roy, are you okay?” Riza gave his shoulder a squeeze as her worry rose. He still hadn’t moved or uttered a sound. He remained lying there with his face buried and out of view. It was a hard tumble he’d taken so she was worried it had really done some damage.

A loud groan left him very suddenly.

“Can you move?”

“Yes,” he whined. “I just don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“It hurts.”

“What does?”

“Everything!” he cried out, eventually rolling over. His face was twisted in a grimace. Water droplets covered his face from the melted snow and the tips of his hair were plastered against the skin of his face.

Riza laughed quietly at him. However, it caused Roy’s eyes to fly open in indignation.

“Are you laughing at me?” His accusation was loud, but she could see the smile fighting to make it onto his face.

“It was pretty funny.”

“I heard the way you called my name,” Roy retorted. “You were worried about me, Riza,” he grinned.

“I was when you lay there, unmoving, like the drama queen that you are.”

Roy huffed in response. “Admit it. You were scared.”

“Now I’m regretting running over to see if you’re all right.”

A hand on her wrist made Riza pause for a second. Turning back to face him, she saw the sincerity on his face.

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course, Roy.”

“Can you help me up?”

Riza extended her arm and hauled him to a seated position. He groaned loudly again, eyes squeezing closed in pain.

“Are you all right?” She laughed again, unable to help herself after seeing his sorry state.

“I will be. My back hurts. So does my ankle.”

“Okay, old man,” she snickered.

Roy glared at her for that comment which only made her laugh harder.

“You could kiss it better?” He smiled innocently up at her, but his expression turned startled as Riza pushed him onto his back with a chuckle.

“In your dreams,” she retorted.

“Maybe you do.” His grin was wide and teasing after he sat back up on his own with no help from her.

Riza gave him another push for his troubles while she scoffed at him, shaking her head in amusement at his antics.

[animebw]

My Top 10 Anime Relationships of All Time

Happy Valentines’s Day! Tis the season to extol the virtues of love, and while I myself remain tragically single, that’s not gonna stop me from getting in the spirit regardless. Besides, I’ve been wanting to talk about my favorite anime relationships for a long time now; if you’ve been with me long enough, you know I’m an absolute slut for a good romantic subplot. Few things inspire as much joy in me as does a well-written couple with great chemistry that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So to celebrate this joyous day, here’s a list of my top 10 anime relationships of all time, the couples that have inspired the most joy in me over the years. Hope you enjoy!

Honorable Mentions:

Holo x Lawrence (Spice and Wolf), Shinji x Asuka (Evangelion), Kirika x Shirabe (Symphogear), Rin x Shiemi (Blue Exorcist), Yuu x Touko (Bloom Into You), Sakura x Li (Cardcaptor Sakura), Cocona x Papika (Flip Flappers), Shirou x Rin (Fate/Stay Night), Literally Every Pair/OT3 (Revue Starlight)

10: Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

In a medium as saturated with teenage characters as anime, it’s always refreshing when the adults get to have just as compelling inner lives and interpersonal relationships. What makes Roy and Riza such a fantastic match is that they’re both utterly confident in their own skin; they’re the mature, sensible couple to contrast Ed and WInry’s puppy love, both self-assured enough that they don’t have any bullshit hangups getting in the way of their communication. You really get the sense that they’ve spent years learning how the other one operates and attuning themselves to that wavelength, to the point where they can basically read each other’s thoughts by now. And I absolutely adore how comfortable they are with that trust. Every second they’re together, you know they’ve got each other’s backs no matter what, and the confidence they show in caring for each other is just as heartwarming as it is badass. What can I say, everyone loves a good power couple, and there are few power couples more iconic than the Flame Alchemist and his sharp-shooting lieutenant.

9: Yang Xiao Long x Blake Belladonna, RWBY

The funny thing is, I wasn’t even really on the Bumbleby train when I first watched RWBY. I was fully prepared for the dopey hetero-centric writing of the first few seasons to dominate the show and be an annoying, if acceptable, distraction. But then Volume 5 happened, and I realized that Miles and Kerry might actually be setting Yang and Blake up after all. And then Volume 6 happened, and I realized that not only were they definitely setting them up, they had somehow snuck in an absolute powerhouse of a love story without me even noticing. Bumbleby was as slow a burn on me as it was in the show, but once I realized that’s the direction we were going in, I fell absolutely head over heels. Not many adventure-series romances get this much build-up, this much care, and this much consideration put into getting you invested in just how damn good these two are for each other. Yang and Blake have something really special together, and the cresting waves of awe that define their blossoming love are the cresting waves of RWBY itself evolving from a haphazard passion project to a genuine standard-bearer for the modern animation landscape. And I feel truly blessed that I was here for this moment in fandom history.

8: Sawako Kuronoma x Shouta Kazehaya, Kimi ni Todoke

Sawako Kuronoma is the most Literally Me character I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, a pitch-perfect portrayal of the awkwardness, anxiety, innocence, optimism, and overwhelming desire for validation that defines the experience of living with Asperger’s. And Kimi ni Todoke is the show my high school self always needed, an achingly honest confirmation that even someone like me is capable of reaching out and making connections with people that genuinely enjoy my presence. In all honestly, the only major difference between Sawako’s experience and mine is that I have never been lucky in love. But hey, I’m not gonna hold that against her, because she and Kazehaya are the biggest fucking sweethearts on the planet, and they deserve all they happiness they bring each other. Any romance that can make my heart fill with this much joy is a romance well worth celebrating, especially when they share one of my favorite confession scenes of all time.

7: Rikka Takanashi x Yuuta Togashi, Chuunibyou

Some of my favorite ships have a particular reason why they’re my favorite, a certain niche they perfectly fill or a part of my experience they perfectly speak to. But sometimes, I fall in love with a ship for the simple reason that it makes me very, very happy. Rikka and Yuuta are two of the most adorable idiots on the face of the earth, and every second they share on screen makes me want to slap my cheeks in glee. How. Are. They. So. God. Damn. CUTE. In their presence, I am reduced to a giggling toddler capable of communicating my simple, childlike giddiness in little more than burbling noises and spastic clapping. And as if that wasn’t enough, they get the chance to spend more of their story actually being a couple than just building up to becoming one. We get to see them be adorable as a pair as well, and somebody get me a life alert because my heart’s this close to stopping from sheer concentrated squee. Anime comfort food just doesn’t get more comforting than this; these chuuni dorks are a big bowl of marshmallow fluff I never get tired of indulging in.

6: Taiga Aisaka x Ryuji Takasu, Toradora

Once again, I’m struck with the realization that I seriously need to re-watch Toradora to get a better sense of where it still stands among my all-time favorites. Not only was this show one of my first-ever rom-coms, it was one of my first ever anime, period, and it’s been over two years since I actually watched the damn thing. I have no idea if Taiga and Ryuji’s love story would still land at this spot on my list once I watch it again; there’s no telling in what direction my opinions might end up shifting. But I can say this much with absolute certainty: Toradora is the single most iconic anime rom-com of all time, and Taiga’s relationship with Ryuji is the quintessential ideal of the rom-com couple. Perfect set-up, perfect build-up, and perfect-payoff between two dynamic, lovable characters with fantastic chemistry, with so many iconic moments I can’t even list them all without bloating this post far too long. The legacy of the Palm-Top Tiger still looms large over the anime landscape, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

5: Nagisa Furukawa x Tomoya Okazaki, Clannad

If re-watching Angel Beats a year ago proved anything to me, it’s that I will always stan for Jun Maeda and his ability to make me feel more feels than ever I done felt before. To this day, Clannad remains one of the most enrapturing high school stories I’ve ever gotten from anime, and Tomoya’s relationship with Nagisa is the perfect fairy tale romance at its core. Their love is simple and pure and genuine and perfect, the kind of platonic ideal of love you hear sirens sing about as you wander through the mist-blanketed forest at night. And yet, by following these two characters after high school and well into their adult lives, it’s also one of the most complete love stories anime’s ever told. You get to see them not just fall in love, not just stay in love, but grow in love, change in love, go through all of life’s trials and hardships and heartbreaks by each other’s side. I still haven’t found a single other anime that’s had the courage to let its characters grow up like this, to follow them out of the simplicity of high school and let their bond expand and evolve and take on new dimensions and depths without ever losing that unbearable sincerity that made it so special in the first place. These two are truly one of a kind, and they deserve my highest respect for that.

4: Kumiko Oumae x Reina Kousaka, Hibike Euphonium

I don’t care what anyone tries to say, Kumirei is fucking cannon and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands. There’s no other explanation that makes sense, no other answer that justifies... everything that passes between these two brass players for the Kitauji High School Concert Band. The tenderness. The illumination. The shared moments in the dead of night. The hike up a goddamn mountain. The summer festival date, “After all, this is my confession of love.” Even the goddamn sequel movie where Kumiko’s awkwardly shoe-horned (Or “Shuu”-horned, if you will) into palling around with a guy friend only ends up serving as further evidence that it’s Reina where Kumiko’s heart truly lies. Even the franchise’s attempt to straightwash these two only ends up making them gayer than ever. THAT’S HOW FUCKING IN LOVE THEY ARE. Time and again Kyoto Animation defies the odds to create something that puts the rest of the anime industry to shame, and Hibike Euphonium is their most stunning, achingly human achievement yet. No other show has made ordinary life feel so meaningful and massive, and no other relationship has achieved such a joyous, defiant shockwave as Kumirei, resisting every single attempt to make it anything less than the awe-inspiring romance it is.

3: Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood was the first anime I watched once I decided I wanted to get into anime, and I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say it has continued to define my appreciation for this medium ever since. You want proof of that? I used to think I hated romance in fiction, but Brotherhood so utterly rewrote my expectations of what fictional love stories could be that it’s the only anime to earn two spots on my list of favorite anime couples. And as much as I love Royai, it was clear from the very first wrench a certain automail mechanic lobbed at a pipsqueak’s head that Edwin was going to be something special. I’ve already spilled countless words gushing about how goddamn much I love these two, and I still feel like I haven’t done them justice. I love their prickly, sweet, competitive chemistry. I love how much they support each other. I love the ways they make each other’s lives better, how they grow up alongside each other and constantly work to make each other the best that they can be. In a show that pretty much accomplishes the greatest possible version of everything it sets out to do- adventure, action, mystery, drama- Edward and Winry’s relationship is still the epitome of everything that romantic subplots can be at their best, and all the ways they can make you fall in love yourself with the possibilities they offer.

2: Hitagi Senjougahara x Koyomi Araragi, Monogatari

To this day, I still don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed I watched the Monogatari series before starting this blog. On the one hand, I can’t imagine how punishingly hard it would be for me to parse out all my wild, conflicting feelings on this franchise on a regular basis, all the ways it inspires and disgusts me in such contradictory and densely layered ways. On the other hand, not talking about the Monogatari series means I haven’t gotten a change to gush about how fucking much I adore the romance at its core. Sejougahara and Araragi start going out in episode goddamn five of this almost hundred-episode series, and every single step they take from there develops them into anime’s most dynamic, explosive, entrancing, exciting couple ever. They’re both severely flawed people, struggling with so many hangups and unresolved issues that constantly clash up against each other, and yet somehow, they always find a way to keep moving forward. They’re dysfunctional yet perfectly functional, a hot mess yet completely stable, two completely contradictory pieces that somehow fit together just right and bring out the best in each other, forging them both into better, kinder people every step of the way. If I’m ever lucky enough to fall in love, I’d want a relationship like this one, one that’s messy and crazy and perfect and inspires me to be a better person, one that lets me share a life with someone just as ridiculous, unstable, passionate and courageous as me.

And had I made this list a year ago, that would’ve been the ball game. I would have listed Senjougahara and Araragi as my #1 anime ship of all time, an exemplar of everything I value in romance on both sides of the screen. It would have been a perfectly suitable finish.

But pretty much exactly a year ago, something changed.

And that something was that I started watching a surprising, astounding, utterly-out-of-nowhere show by the name of Symphogear.

1: Hibiki Tachibana x Miku Kohinata, Symphogear

I’ve been tossing this opinion around in my head pretty much ever since I finished XV. I wondered if there was any other conclusion I could reach, if recency bias was affecting my judgement, if I could really compare this one to the countless other fantastic anime relationships I’ve experienced and broken down over the course of my love affair with this medium. But in the end, nothing, nothing, nothing in anime romance has gives me such sheer, unbridled bliss as Hibiki and Miku. Nothing has made me smile wider than Hibiki holding fast to the sunshine she’ll always return to. Nothing has made me squeal louder than Miku’s tender, beautiful faith in the gentlest fist in the world. Nothing has made me sob happier tears than how utterly, how unapologetically, how honestly these two support each other in every quiet promise, every triumphant embrace, every heartfelt declaration that no matter what trials await them, no matter what conflicts threaten to drive them apart, they will always find a way back to each other’s light once more. It’s the supernova core of one of the most blisteringly beautiful shows I’ve ever experienced, a shining beacon that doesn’t just fill my days with joy for their joy, but redefines everything I know that joy to be capable of. It forges a connection stronger than the strongest titanium, writ large in the unbreakable promise of Symphogear as a franchise: that every ridiculous, wonderful idea it comes up with is something honest and true and everlasting.

Because as much praise as I can level at other anime relationships, as subjectively “better-written” as some of them might be, the raw, staggering sincerity of these two is everything that I want romance in fiction to be. I want every fictional relationship to be this triumphant and giddy. I wish every romantic subplot had this much trust in the love its participants share. HibiMiku stands as the unshakable pinnacle of why I’ve come to love stories about love so goddamn much, the apotheosis of the sincere, hopeful, inspiring conviction that fuels my adoration of everything that anime is capable of. It astounds me, it amazes me, it bowls me over, and it leaves me utterly enraptured at everything this incredible medium is able to accomplish. They’re the first and only couple I’ve ever loved so goddamn much that I wrote completely unprompted fanfiction about them, solely because I wanted to pay tribute to a story that had touched me so impossibly deep. And that’s all the evidence I need- even though there’s so, so, so much more- that Hibiki and Miku are unquestionably my single favorite romance in all of anime.

[almea]

You ship Naegiri?

lmao yeah. I get the impression that it's viewed as a pretty "basic" ship and I'm not really equipped to write meta about it since I only have the knowledge that I shipped it intensely when I watched the anime with no exact memory of why since it's been so long, some secondhand knowledge from whatever the wiki says, and the 3 out of context episodes of DR3 I watched in the last few days, but I still really like everything about it.

Like, from what I remember, it fits one of my favourite dynamics for m/f ships of "very skilled, stoic woman and the soft boyfriend who is in awe of how amazing she is and also makes her a little soft." And the whole "emotionally stunted detective and the love interest that gets them to open up to people" is a little boring to me if it's a male detective and a female love interest, but make it a female detective and a male love interest (OR MAKE IT GAY) and it immediately feels fresh and I'm all over it.

Apparently Kirigiri is Naegi's boss after they escape the school and that sounds like a delight.

And I'm still fucking reeling from how Kirigiri "died" in DR3. I've gathered that all the forbidden actions were deliberate, but hers somehow feels the most deliberate because it almost literally tells her to choose whether she lives or Naegi does. And narratively, it feels like it gives her a way to fully make up for sacrificing Naegi in DR1, even if she did end up saving him back then. I don't think Naegi ever held it against her, but NARRATIVELY.

I'm also in a perpetual state of swooning over Kirigiri telling Naegi "I shall always be by your side." She's just... so fucking gallant about it.

They're kind of like Roy and Riza from FMA for me where there's nothing explicitly romantic between them by the end of the story, but the narrative still made it clear that they're exceedingly important to each other in a way no one else is so I'm already satisfied because it feels like they're basically canon. It's definitely Significant that Naegi's by himself for the reveal that Kirigiri's alive so his reaction is the only one we get (that shot of Kirigiri stepping behind Naegi and him turning around and looking at her Like That was some High Romance bullshit...), and that the entire story ends on a scene between just the two of them.

Also, Kirigiri's three inches taller than Naegi and always wears heeled boots so I'm All About that height difference.

[must-hate-dogs]

🚑 – an injured kiss

   It's always the stupid things, isn't it? It's never an enemy soldier that gets you, never a fair fight. No. It's the stupid fucking scorpion hiding under your pack when you're out in the middle of desert-ass-nowhere.

   Riza's had a fever for four hours, and been delirious for the past three, crying out and tossing violently on her cot. If she weren't so weak, he'd worry about her hurting herself. They've been out of water for two, having spent it all trying to get Riza's fever down. This far out of radio range, all they can do is wait for their scheduled pickup. Which should be here any minute now. Any fucking minute now.

   Riza moans. God, she sounds terrible. If they can just get her to a hospital in time, she'll be fine. Right? He watches her with knit brows, but there's nothing he can do.

   "Colonel," she rasps. Breda grimaces.

   "Mustang's not here, Riza," he says as gently as he can.

   "Roy. I'm dying."

   The words stab him right in the heart, but he counters gruffly: "You're NOT dying. Hang in there."

   "...hurts."

   He shuts his eyes. "I'm sorry."

   "Roy. Kiss me."

   And his eyes fly open again. "What?"

   "Just... one more... before..." a spasm wracks her and she cries out.

   ANY FUCKING MINUTE NOW. WOULD BE GREAT.

   "Roy!" She begs. "Kiss me... before..."

   Breda quickly does the weirdest risk/reward analysis of his life. She THINKS she's dying. And, shit, maybe she is. She THINKS you're Mustang. Maybe it will bring her some peace. She won't remember.

   She better not remember.

   "Forgive me," he mutters, crouching beside her. He reaches out, pulls his hand back, reaches out again and brushes her bangs aside. Her forehead is on fire. She turns toward his hand, eyes still closed.

   So. He. Kisses her. Ever so tentatively, barely brushing his lips against hers. They are as hot and dry as the desert outside.

   But... it works. Her ragged breathing calms. The tension around her eyes evaporates. A soft smile spreads across her face. Within moments, she seems to be sleeping peacefully.

   Breda rocks back on his heels and drops his head into his hands. Where the fuck ARE they?

[firewoodfigs]

Summary:

“Fate must be so kind to reunite us like this -”

Riza grips his hand so hard, he can almost feel an incoming fracture. Her stiff upper lip makes it clear that she’s not interested in idle chatter. “This is a fate worse than death, if I do say so myself.”

(a/n: this was the piece I originally wrote for the @royaiweek prompt ‘old wounds’ (aka the high society au no one asked for), but I got hit with the angst / hurt & comfort truck xD it’s meant to be a prologue of sorts to a multi-chap which I'm not too sure about atm. feedback & concrit are always welcome! <3) 

prologue: of old flames and old wounds 

~x~

It’s impossible to miss Roy Mustang even amidst the crowd of handsome bachelors sprawled out like chess pieces on the tessellated ballroom floor tonight. He sticks out like a sore thumb; five feet eight inches of saviour complex wrapped in corded muscle, armed with a damnably dashing smirk and a lascivious glint in his eyes as he scans the crowd for a particular someone.

Ordinarily, he might've been content with another run-of-the-mill socialite hanging off his arms, but tonight’s debutante is special - because it is finally a certain lady’s turn to make her official debut in high society."

As if aligned with the stars, the lady enters, dressed to the nines in a stunning blue number; aureate locks done in a tasteful up-do to reveal her pretty countenance in its full glory. Independence hangs off her shoulders proudly, the way diamonds cascade down her neck. Her lips are painted a bright, bloody scarlet, and a subtle blush adorns her cheeks like the genesis of tulips blooming in spring. She’s exquisite - dangerously so - and even as she trails behind the other girls with the smallest hint of awkwardness in her gait they fade into the background like shadows.

Elizabeth Hawkeye bows courteously as her grandparents introduce her to the eager audience. Raucous applause envelops her being, and cameras everywhere are quick to go off. She grimaces subtly at the attention, but just as quickly schools her expression and returns to her seat along with everyone else.

And - quite unfortunately, Roy thinks - they’re seated on opposite ends of the dining table tonight.

Notwithstanding, his eyes continue to linger on her, and Roy can’t help but notice just how much she’d grown from the last time he saw her. Any childlike roundness that might’ve once rested on her lovely face was replaced by distinct angles and prominent cheekbones, and her delicate, cuplike bosom made her maturity very, very evident.  

Before he can continue his observations, though, he’s interrupted by an inviting, outstretched hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Mustang,” says the girl seated beside him. “I’m Juliette Astor.”

Juliette Astor is attractive, as all upper crust socialites generally are, with a soft smile that beguiles hidden insecurities and vanities. An innate thirst for approval makes its presence known from under fluttering eyelashes. Roy manages a half-hearted smile in response as he shakes her hand politely, forcing himself to make eye contact.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Astor,” he pauses, contemplating his next move. “That shade of blue compliments your eyes very well, I must say.” Juliette grins widely this time. It’s concealed behind a carefully-positioned palm and well-manicured nails, but it’s all very deliberate. All part of the game.  

The other girls seated within his vicinity begin to do the same. They introduce themselves to him, to the other women around the table with all the enthusiasm of old friends reuniting despite any underlying tension that might be there.

The sea of names are lost on him eventually, but Roy smiles all the same, and they’re disarmed by his charm.

Dinner is finally served after all the frivolous formalities, the first appetiser of the night being a luxurious beef carpaccio. Chateaubriand, to be specific. There’s certainly no scrimping on a grand affair like this tonight (thousand dollar wines are poured with largesse as a live orchestra plays), and neither would Roy Mustang be skimping on his efforts to rekindle the old flame between them. 

~x~

It’s all very methodical, really, like simple geometric progression. Every so often, a girl will reach out to check her reflection on the back of a silver spoon before puckering her lips in an attractive pout, desire seeping from beneath. Another will bite down on her appetiser slowly, careful not to smear her crimson lips, and chew daintily before flashing a set of pearly whites invitingly at Roy - a dance, and then a kiss or two? Finally, yet another will shyly refuse any dessert on the menu and look at him as if he were the intended substitute of the night.

Once in a while, Roy responds with an appreciative, crooked grin as his eyes take in the creamy expanse of milky thighs gleaming from the slits of their dresses. But he finds himself getting bored easily, mind wandering back to the girl who’d stolen his heart since time immemorial.

(Riza, however, doesn’t do any of this, doesn’t dabble in any of this needless seduction - but she doesn’t need to, not when she already has him, amongst many other gentlemen tonight, wrapped around her fingers.)

He continues watching Riza quietly now and then while trying to keep the girls around him entertained with senseless talk. Her back is ruler-straight the way all girls in high society had been taught by their governesses to do so, but the slightest hint of discomfort mars her sharp features - such things had never been her cup of tea, after all.

Perhaps somewhat ironically, despite their differences Roy had always been more accustomed to such events than Riza. Despite being the Grummans’ - who were practically royalty, even in the world of socialites - heiress, she’d always been disinclined to make an appearance at such events, which to her mind were honestly just riddled with false niceties and fake pretenses.

Neither made for a particularly comfortable night for her.

Roy, on the other hand, fits in with unnerving ease, despite the fact that he didn’t descend from a long line of aristocrats like Riza, and was perhaps way too good at playing the role of a shameless flirt whenever the need arose. The ladies, of course, enjoyed this terribly. With every crooked grin, every deliberate wink they’re quick to fall head over heels for him.

But of course, it’s impossible for anyone to be universally loved. For every woman who was head over heels over his debonair charm there was someone speaking of him with decided malice, disguised envy. Unlike the others in the room, Roy Mustang was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth - he was raised in a bar (occasionally turned brothel), for goodness’ sake!

Relative to the people of this perfectly manufactured world, therefore, he’s practically made from nothing. An anomaly amongst the crowd of corporate darlings who’ve always had the backs of their disgustingly wealthy families to ride on.

Which, of course, made him quite the topic of discussion.

Once upon a time, the yammerings and yakkings might have bothered him, but he’s learnt to disregard the irrelevant thoughts of others. It’s all background noise to him, and if he’s being unabashedly honest he would even admit that he’s come to even revel and relish in such gossip. For he’s made his way here, to this exclusive circle, and being able to unravel the insecurities of the rich with his mere dastardly presence certainly did wonders to his ego.

“Are you alright, Mister Mustang?” The girl sitting across him (what’s her name again?) asks pleasantly, but there’s a hint of well-disguised jealousy to her honey-sweet voice.

“Why, of course,” he replies distractedly, placating her with a reassuring smile before turning back to observing a certain blonde.

Finally, Riza turns to meet his gaze - but it’s met with a baleful glare, as if she’s admonishing him for even existing .  

Despite her infuriation, though, she’s quick to resume her role as the civilised, well-bred lady. Riza turns back to the other bachelors sitting with her after that moment of self-indulgence, keeping up her semblance of perfect calm amidst bubbling champagne and scandalous gossip and julienned vegetables.

Roy grimaces internally. Of course she would be angry at his sudden reappearance, after his equally abrupt disappearance.

The girl - ah, yes, Cornelia - tries again, resting a palm atop his knee under the table. “So, what are your... preferences?” she asks coyly.

Roy observes her for a brief moment. She’s a waifish lady with splendid brown curls, styled to perfection.  

“Brunettes,” the lie slips from his lips naturally.

It works like a charm. Cornelia Adler lets out an easy laugh, spilled with prodigality; a blush gracing her delicate features as she sends a coquettish wink his way and sits a little more upright to better display her willowy physique.

Roy smirks appreciatively in response, if only to mask the guilt beginning to flare up his throat.

The wine quells it, but only slightly. Despite the chatter and laughter around him his mind continues to wander back to a certain blonde incessantly (of course, blondes were his definite preference, but Miss Adler didn’t need to know that). For as much as he wanted things to go back to how they were, he knew he’d done wrong by Riza. Terribly, terribly wrong.

And though he was inclined to think that his departure was… explicable, he wasn’t sure if she would even be willing to hear his explanations.

In the end, Roy simply resigns to playing the role of a conceited flirt to belie the turmoil stirring within. The other ladies on the table make his job exceedingly simple, and he does his level best to keep up with Miss Adler’s mindless chatter with well-timed laughter and rakish smiles.  

~x~

As was tradition at every debutante that marked the official joining of society, females were required to dance and socialise with the eligible bachelors lined up before them after dinner. Elizabeth Hawkeye, now a stunning lady of twenty-one was no exception.

She queues reluctantly behind a slender brunette as she awaits her turn, feeling every bit like a lamb about to be led to the slaughterhouse.

Her first companion whisks her into a slow dance eagerly. The first song of the night is a traditional waltz - rather unfortunate, if Riza said so herself. Slow dances were, in her opinion, one of the worst inventions of mankind, because it was the perfect opportunity for mundane, aimless conversations.  

“So, Miss Hawkeye,” her partner says, in a husky voice which he must have wrongly assumed to be - seductive? “Has anyone had the good fortune of catching your eye yet this lovely evening?”

“No,” she replies curtly. Most certainly not you, if that’s what you’re asking.  

“What a pity, Miss Hawkeye. You’ve caught the eye of many gentlemen, myself included.” She shrugs casually, unimpressed by his flirting.

“How are your shares faring?” Riza asks disinterestedly, but he takes to the bait like a fish. Almost immediately he launches into a speech about how they’ve never been performing better - with the recent acquisition his company has only expanded in size, and the share prices have only been going up ever since.

Surely, a remarkable feat for someone who’s not even thirty yet -!

“All in a day’s work,” he quips. Riza doesn’t even remember his name, but she manages a dry chuckle.

His ramble continues, peppered with a witty joke here and there; an eloquence reeking of opulence. Riza’s lips tug upwards with practiced politeness, but if she’s being honest she doesn’t care at all. Regardless, she’s content to listen to white noise instead of having to do any further unnecessary talking, and he’s more than happy to stroke his own ego in front of the blonde.

Finally, the song ends, and Riza manages to get a momentary reprieve when he finally lets go of her hand.

It doesn’t last for long, though. From her peripheral vision she catches a glimpse of a certain - damned horse! - again. It’s an unwelcome barb at an old wound, one that could’ve been easily avoided if she had just been a little wiser.

Ah, the folly of man.  

Because, god - it’d been so easy at the start, when they were just somewhere in between acquaintances and friends, back when she was still just Riza Hawkeye. Eventually, though, his aunt had pointed out that she was the perfect girl with the perfect family to raise his social standing, to turn his pipe dreams into a reality with their wealth and power and connections.  

And Riza, naive, silly Riza had agreed. He'd been the ideal candidate to stave off the many bachelors who looked at her with yearning and desire, and suited her purposes just as well.

So really, it was a win-win for the both of them.

Riza had thought of him as tolerable, at the very least. He was someone whom she could sustain a conversation with, and was most certainly preferable to another loaded chauvinist who just wanted her to look nice at galas and giggle prettily and flutter her eyelashes.

Eventually, it became a rather - dare she say, enjoyable? - companionship. Between dinners under crystal chandeliers and brunch at posh cafes, it seemed like something more than what either of them had bargained for had developed - trust? - a luxury that the wealthy darlings of their world sadly could not afford. Everything was going fine, though there was nothing to make the relationship ‘official’ (because the term girlfriend sounded disgustingly juvenile to Riza’s ears, as did its counterpart).

And then, Roy had left without a word, jetting off somewhere to pursue his lofty dreams with the financial backing from her family. Her family, of all things. It made her feel like she’d been nothing more than a pawn on his chessboard, and it didn’t take long for her to come to loathe him in his absence.

Riza Hawkeye had her pride, after all, and she was not going to let herself be used by some manipulative bastard who conceived of her as nothing more than his one-way ticket to high society. So excuse her if she was affronted, angered by his sudden reappearance; if she couldn’t keep up with all the niceties and gaieties, because - damn it! - she had every right to be.  

She feels his gaze lingering on her again, but before he can so much as utter a word she’s ushered to another bachelor again.

The torturous cycle repeats itself.

It’s a welcome distraction for once, though. Riza would rather dance with the sandy blonde droning on about his investments and yacht parties and how beautiful she looks, than the raven-haired bastard inching dangerously closer towards her.

Patience, Roy thinks, as he waits for his turn to finally dance (and talk) with Riza. There’s an uncomfortable lump in his throat, and though he tries to attribute it to the cool, dry air and the countless conversations he’s had to sustain for the night it’s undeniably because of nervousness.  

Nonetheless, he plays it off suavely. The ladies are absolutely enthralled by him. Roy allows a pleased smirk to grace his handsome features before switching partners again.

~x~

“A dance for the lovely lady?”

Riza rolls her eyes, but not wanting to cause a scene and draw any more attention to herself she obliges. Very begrudgingly.

Roy takes her hand gently in his, resting the other on her cinched waist as they glide smoothly across marble like old lovers dancing to a familiar tune - but he can almost feel the displeasure radiating off her skin, despite the gloves separating their palms.

“Fate must be so kind to reunite us like this -”

Riza grips his hand so hard, he can almost feel an incoming fracture. Her stiff upper lip makes it clear that she’s not interested in idle chatter. “This is a fate worse than death, if I do say so myself.”

He ceases the fruitless flirting and keeps his mouth shut. Roy’s lips are pursed in a tight smile as he continues to lead her in the dance.

The tension between them feels like a violin string strung far too tightly, waiting to snap and slap him in the face at any moment. It’s an unsettling, almost eerie silence, and he scrambles for something appropriate to say in order to break it.

Nothing comes to mind. The quietness lingers, along with Riza’s frown. He swallows, guiding her awkwardly as they continue to dance.

Mercifully, the orchestra begins to play a faster-paced waltz. Five steps per measure. The words lay unspoken on his tongue as they concentrate on the steps, adjusting to the rhythm. Roy spins her once, twice. Her dress flutters gracefully as she twirls, a lovely shade of blue that matches her hair, the way the sky complements the sun, and is -

Coincidentally, the exact same shade as Roy’s tie.

Riza blanches visibly when she realises this. Any fondness for the dress she’s wearing (which, even then, didn’t amount to much) disappears into thin air immediately, and Riza finds herself suddenly overcome with the overwhelming desire to change out of her gown and perhaps incinerate it afterwards.

Roy, on the other hand, thinks she looks positively divine, and is somewhat pleased that they match even without any prior planning. Before he can control himself, the words pour out like a gushing stream. “You look stunning, Riza.”

The string snaps.

“Who said we were on a first name basis, Mister Mustang ?” she asks, hostility clouding her vision.

For the first time that night, Roy feels his confidence beginning to crumble, but he keeps himself in check. “I do apologise for my impoliteness, Miss... Hawkeye...” he trails off unsurely, but decides that it’s now or never. “Amongst many other things.”

She doesn’t respond. Roy tries again, waltzing her in time with the tempo. “I mean it, I’m really sorry, Ri -”

“The fact that you vanished for years without a word after using me for your dastardly plans is really helping your point, I’m sure,” Riza remarks drily before he can finish addressing her by her first name - the bloody temerity of him to do so, really - once more.

Silence falls upon them once more as the elephant in the room finally makes its grand appearance. Riza feels the familiar jabbing of the old wound that she’d buried deep within her heart once again. It’s uncomfortable, almost painful, but she purses her lips tightly instead of making her hurt known.

“You… you have every right to be angry with me.”

It’s the first thing he gets right the entire evening. “You’re right on that front, at least.”

Roy, at least, had the decency to look shamefaced. He’s speechless for a moment, but he lets his yearning, his longing for her make itself known. “You can’t deny the chemistry we have, though,” he murmurs under his breath, leaning closer to her.

“Had,” she corrects sharply. “And the last I remembered, you managed to blow up quite a number of things during your chemistry experiments.”

The insinuation behind her witty comeback is clear. You’ve blown this one up too.  

Roy swallows, choosing his next words carefully. “Look, I’m… well, I’m aware that whatever I did wasn’t the nicest -”

“Lovely to know that your self-awareness has improved, but I’m not some piece of garbage you can recycle after you’ve realised what it’s worth.”

It’s a bit of a struggle for him to keep up with the beat now, but they continue their dance nevertheless. Being accomplished social dancers themselves, it’s easy to make their movements look natural, graceful like flowing water despite the ongoing argument.

Roy doesn’t have an answer. No matter his explanations, there’s an undeniably painful truth to her acerbic words.

Nevertheless, he’s always had a bit of a short fuse - one that only worsens whenever he doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions. The guilt that’s been lingering in his throat all night finally makes itself known in the form of an indignant retort. “I never said that you were a piece of garbage,” he bites. “And… I’m genuinely trying to make amends here, but you’re not even giving me a chance, Ri -”

“What’ve you done to even deserve one?” Riza counters angrily.

“I’m back now, aren’t I?”

“And how, pray tell, is that supposed to make anything better?”

Their steps slow down as the orchestra’s playing draws near to a close. “Because…” Didn’t you miss me while I was gone?  

“If you thought I’d just wait around, pining for you during your absence…” There’s a traitorous spark of hope that lights up in Roy’s heart, but it’s instantaneously trampled upon. “You’re terribly wrong.”

The song finally ends, as does their dance. “Well, have a wonderful evening.” Riza flashes him a beatific smile before kicking his shin with the pointed tip of her stiletto. Hard. “And break a leg.”

“I think I just did,” Roy manages to sputter out weakly.

Riza gives him a patronising, unsympathetic pat on the shoulder before storming off, leaving him alone on the dance floor with a bruised leg and an equally bruised ego.

[made-me-deep-blue]

the smell of vanilla.

Pairing: Aurora Emery x F!MC (Riza Hawkeye)

Words: 2114

Rating: Trigger warning (mentions of depression, starving one’s self, death), there’s fluff at the end don’t panic-

Tags: @drethanramslay (Thank you for helping me through this tough period of time! Much loves x)

-

Aurora had been watching Riza for a while now.

After the funeral, it was as if Riza became a totally different person. The bright, humourous, flirtatious self was gone. Whenever she smiled, it was a tired one. A smile that did not reach her eyes and those green flames did not flicker anymore. It was just dull green. There was also a hidden melancholy behind those emerald eyes, one Aurora couldn’t touch on. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Whenever they have passed by in their apartment, Riza merely gives a smile and a small little wave, before disappearing behind the door to her bedroom. Aurora would come back from late-night shifts, laughing softly at Jackie and Sienna asleep on top of each other on the couch still dressed before making her way to Riza’s bedroom, slowly opening her bedroom door.

She would slowly watch the gentle rise and fall of Riza’s form under the covers, leaning against the door frame.

“Worried about Riza, huh?” Elijah wheeled out from his room, in his casual clothes, drying his hair with his towel.

Aurora had nearly yelped in surprise but had the decency to keep her mouth shut. Her hazel brown eyes turned wistful, still lingering on sleeping Riza.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s like she changed, you know?”

“Trust me,” Elijah said. “It’s like she’s working as per normal with the diagnostics team, but there’s just...something I can’t grab on. Something’s definitely going on, can’t be just the...funeral and with everything surrounding that that made her like this.”

So, when Aurora got the message from her Edenbrook roommates that Riza had collapsed at the hospital during her shift, it had confirmed her suspicions on what had been truly going on.

-

It was like any other regular day for a hospital which was down in the dumps from a pulled fund. Perks of being a hospital dependent on funds from the government, really. 

Jackie, Sienna, Elijah, Bryce were all gathered at the nurses’ station, along with Danny with his arms propped up against the counter, watching Riza conversing with Esme about the intern’s patients for today. It was the usual neutral-looking expression, eyes scanning through charts as she explained what Esme needed to take note of.

When Riza was done, she gave a curt nod to her intern, before making her way to the diagnostics team’s meeting room, the door clicking shut. The residents and the one nurse at the station could practically see Esme trudge her way to where they were standing.

“So,” Bryce broke the silence. “Figured out what’s wrong with her?”

Concern etched along the lines of Esme’s face, her lips pressed into a thin line. “She looks paler than usual, and her lips kind of lost their colour? She looks alive though, cheeks still pink and all. There was sweat forming at her neck and hairline, plus I could practically feel her body heat from where I stood…”

“Should we ask her-” Before Elijah could even finish his sentence, Jackie sighed and shook her head.

“We’re going to get nothing out of her if we keep on pressing her for answers,” Jackie eyed warily at the meeting room of the diagnostics team. “Even Ortega’s got nothing from asking her, she’ll just deny again and again.”

“And from what Aurora told me and our personal observations,” Elijah added. “When we asked her to join us for breakfast, she kindly rejected our offer and headed to the hospital early. Same goes for dinner, she just smiles wearily and says that she’ll have the leftovers once she was done studying, but she was already asleep when we checked if she had eaten the food we had left for her.”

“Anyways,” Sienna said. “We should all be all eyes on our girl today, be on a lookout for anything out of the ordinary, okay?”

Everyone in the circle nodded, including Esme.

“What’s the gathering for, doctors?” Harper asked as she stepped out of her office and walked towards them. “Is it anything I should know about?”

“Well, you see,” everyone swivelled their heads towards Esme when she started to speak up. She flinched at the amount of attention at first, but she took a deep breath and continued with resolution in her eyes. “It’s about Dr. Hawkeye…”

“Oh?”

After explaining the situation to Harper, she nodded and was surprised when Esme bowed slightly to her. “Please help us be on a lookout for her, Dr. Emery...Dr. Hawkeye means a lot to me, and to this group of people here.”

Harper nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, if peers can’t get her to talk, maybe superiors would. But I won’t do anything to pressure her, of course.”

“Thank you.”

Long after the others had dispersed from the nurses’ station, true enough, Riza started to falter, nearly tripping on her heels (which she never does). She pressed a hand to her forehead, the other holding onto the wall, before losing all the energy in her legs and collapsed onto the floor.

Jackie happened to be exiting a patient’s ward when she heard a crash and saw her roommate on the floor. “Riza!”

She nearly skidded (god forbid, she did not or else she would be dropping her job as a doctor for the rest of her life) while running to Riza, and flinched when she touched her friend’s arm. “God, that’s scorching hot! Stretcher! I need a stretcher here, stat!” 

Riza’s eyebrows were tightly knitted together, breathing as if she was out of breath, cheeks flushed and cold sweat licking at her face and neck. She could barely keep her eyes open while trying to squint at Jackie.

So much for keeping it together, Riza had thought, before darkness consumed her vision.

-

Aurora was still on her shift when she received a text message from their group chat. 

She nearly fainted at it but cursed mentally when she realised that she could not leave early due to her superior (curse him), so she quickly sent off a message that she would be coming over to Edenbrook once she was done with work.

Soon enough, Aurora literally ran for her life to the entrance of Edenbrook, ignoring the surprised and curious looks of the onlookers as she brushed past them and met up with Sienna at the nurses’ station. 

“You ran here?” Sienna asked, holding Aurora by her arms.

“O-Of course, this is Riza Hawkeye we’re talking about,” Aurora said in between breaths. “Obviously I had to run here. How is she?”

“See for yourself,” Sienna gestured to the window of Riza’s ward.

There was some colour coming back to Riza’s skin, compared to the horrendously pale expression that she had been having. Aurora sighed in relief but clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

“Turns out that she had been surviving this shift with a very high fever with slight malnutrition,” Sienna looked at her friend through the window. “We gave her fluids to cool down her body temperature, and thank god it went down. She hasn’t eaten yet since she was out cold throughout-”

“I can enter...right?”

Sienna was surprised at the sudden interruption but smiled gratefully. “Of course you can,” she checked her watch, before walking to the locker room, giving a small wave at Aurora. “It’s the end of my shift now, I’ll see you back at home, yeah?”

Aurora returned the gesture, before shaking her head and scoffed. “No promises.”

The ward was quiet, except for Riza’s breathing. Aurora set her bag down by the bedside table, and sat on a chair by Riza’s bed. When she tentatively slid her hand into Riza’s, it was cold but with a bit of warmth. To be honest, she was shocked right to the core when she read that Riza had collapsed from a high fever, and that they had to be quick or else their hands were going to be scalded from the body heat.

Riza Hawkeye would never be in this kind of a pitiful state on the job. Heck, in front of her mentor Dr. Ethan Ramsey too.

But…

Aurora shook her head, slowly giving Riza’s hand a small squeeze.

“That sad face does not look cute on you, Emery.”

Aurora’s head immediately faced Riza’s weak smile, her emerald green eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Damn you, Riza…” She choked on a sob. “Do you have any idea how worried I was for you when I received a message that you had collapsed in the hospital? I even ran my way here from work to see you!”

“Even faster than your performance during the baseball game?”

Aurora hesitated, before nodding.

“I see,” Riza said, before leaning further back into the pillow. There was guilt lying behind her eyes, and Aurora could see it etched into the beautiful lines of her face.

“I...I’m sorry, Aurora.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Aurora didn’t know what to think of her answer. Sure they started off rocky when they were still interns, then they started to build on their friendship, to the point where she had gained the courage to stand up to her aunt for being used as an outlet to vent because Harper missed neurology during her job as Chief of Medicine in Naveen’s absence. At the end of their intern year, she was then offered a vacancy at Riza’s shared apartment since Landry moved out.

Then came that med school reunion dinner that Riza accompanied her to. It felt as if that changed the way she viewed the relationship between herself and Riza Hawkeye. When she cheekily introduced herself as Aurora’s girlfriend, the gears inside of her shifted.

Was that what she felt all along? Did she...like Riza?

Not as a friend, but something more?

Aurora didn’t know what to answer the bedridden Riza, only for tears to start welling up in her eyes and choked on a sob as she spoke.

“Everything?” She asked. “Really? Everything?”

“I know I apologised to you prior for being such an ass to you during our intern year,” Riza started. “And then came the baseball game, which I still feel guilty for. Dang it, it feels like all the apologies in the world can’t erase the damage I did to your heart. And...after the funeral, after a loss of Edenbrook’s family, it felt like it was the final straw to all of my sufferings.”

It was true. Starting out at Edenbrook’s elite diagnostics team as the youngest and a junior fellow was something that she could handle, but the package that came with the job was something that Riza struggled to grapple with. Especially when the sudden pull of the fund happened, and the competition for funds began to arise between Edenbrook and Mass Kenmore, the longtime medical rivals in American history.

Riza Hawkeye, a junior fellow and Edenbrook’s golden child, couldn’t have possibly handled the complications that followed her career with the hospital’s diagnostics team. 

No one should.

“I was nothing but a nobody to all of you during this time in order to cope with myself and my crippling mental health,” Riza’s eyes turned wistful, as she looked out of the window, at the night sky. “I even slowly stopped communicating with you at some point, but you just kept persistently checking up on me. And I really appreciate that.”

Aurora’s chest swelled with emotion at Riza’s words.

“But still, I regretted how I acted on the woman I like a lot..”

The vinyl in Aurora’s head had scratched to an abrupt stop.

The woman...Riza liked the most?

“I…”

“I like you, Aurora Emery. A lot. A lot, a lot. And if you would have me, when things settle down, let’s go out together?”

Aurora, yet again, didn’t know how to respond, but to chuckle through her tears. Riza reached up to her cheek and wiped them away.

“How romantic of you to ask me out when you are in bed like this.”

“Guess I’ve been binging on too many korean dramas for this moment.”

Riza scooted over to one side of the bed, then patted the empty space. “Come sleep with me? I don’t wanna be all alone tonight.”

“One of your many schemes to make me yours, I’m assuming?”

Riza feigned defeat. “Oh, no! You’ve seen through my schemes, whatever shall I do?”

“Dork,” Aurora scoffed, before sliding off her flats and getting comfortable under the covers, sliding her body against Riza’s. Warm, Riza thought to herself, wrapping her arm around Aurora’s waist and tucking her chin on top of her head.

Riza Hawkeye was then lulled to sleep, despite her growing hunger, embraced by the smell of vanilla.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Market Research: A Collection of Random Ideas

From canon-compliant to out-there AUs, from main characters to that one guy watching things in the background, this is a dumping ground for any idea that crosses my brain long enough for me to catch. Maybe they'll turn into complex multi-chapter AUs, maybe they'll only ever exist here. Come check them out, and spur along any you'd like to see more of!

Market Research: Riza/Hughes AU Story, Exploration One       Word Count: 631   Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T   Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes     Warning: Character Death (its Hughes, guys, we expected this)     Summary: Roy watches Riza as she stands alone during Hughes’ funeral—and offers her a way to find her husband’s killer.   Notes:  This is part of an AU idea where Hughes and Riza grew close in Ishval and fell in love afterwards. Unfortunately, canon being what canon is, Hughes still dies. But how does their marriage affect the canon? How does it affect Roy and Riza’s relationship? What’s the same, what’s different, how are the end goals met? If the idea of this interests you, say so down in the comments or send me a message on my tumblr, aquietwritingcorner. It just might spur me to develop this idea further! AO3 || ff.net

Riza/Hughes AU Story: Exploration One

She stood alone. She stood in a position of honor, but it was alone, nonetheless. She was the only military member here allowed to be in civilian clothing, but that was because her role as his wife overruled her role as a member of the military.

Roy couldn’t help but look Riza over as she stood there, alone, while a salute was fired off. She had black heels on, a long black skirt that played around her calves as the wind blew, a black, long-sleeved sweater over a black blouse, and a black hat with a black veil covering her face. It was the third time that Roy had seen her before a grave. The first time had been at her father’s grave, where he had told her his dreams. The second time had been in Ishval, where she had told him what she wanted. And now this, the third time, as she stood before the grave of her husband and his best friend.

The salute ended; the grave was completely covered. The flag had been presented to her. The Fuhrer had spoken to her. Several people stopped to speak to her. Roy lingered in the background, waiting until she had finished speaking to her best friend, and until everyone had walked away. She stayed, standing in front of the grave, staring at it. Roy gave her a few minutes, and then he quietly approached, coming to stand beside her, not willing to break the silence before she was ready.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. Time seemed to not have any particular meaning. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Roy didn’t check. Finally, though, she spoke.

“…Who did this?” she said without taking her eyes from the grave. Her voice was filled with grief and with anger. “Who did this, Roy? Who killed my husband?”

“I don’t know,” he responded. “But I plan to find out.”

She turned to look at him then, her chin trembling, although Roy couldn’t tell if it was from anger or grief. “I want in,” she said, and her voice was firm, filled with emotion. She met his eyes. Hers were blazing, full of such an intense mix of emotions that he couldn’t looked away from them. “I want in on finding my husband’s killer.”

Roy felt his expression smooth into one of resolve, as her emotions fueled his own. This was not a good idea. To let emotion guide him like this, to let her emotion fuel his, to let their emotions push them on to ideas of revenge—it was a dangerous thing.

And yet, he didn’t fight it.

“Of course,” he said. His jaw set. “I’ll be coming to Central soon. I’ll need an adjunct. Someone I can trust. Someone who can help me navigate Central.”

“Offering your late best friend’s wife a job might seem like pity to some,” she said. “But I accept. I don’t care what people think. Maes and I were all in with you already. I’ll carry the torch for him and me.”

Roy nodded. “Good. I’ll make sure it works out.”

Riza reached out and put a hand on the grave. “The dream won’t die with you, Maes. That I promise you. We will find out what you died for and use that knowledge against your killer.”

Roy waited until she took her hand off of the grave. “…Let me take you home,” he said.

Riza took in a breath, and then gave one, terse nod. Roy put his hand on the small of her back and led her away. But both of them knew that they were no stepping away from anything, but into the mire of what had taken the life of the best man they both knew.

[snowdog49]

Hayate’s First Snow

General Audience

1784 Words

For @by-nina Merry Christmas from your secret Santa.  She got up from the bed, rising as her routine dictated. Groaning at the cold floor, she made her way to the hot shower. As she turned on the hot water, steam billowing out of the bathroom, she looked out to see her dog whining in his bed. He was antsy, still a puppy, but determined to stay where it was warmest. Almost grown, Hayate was still a puppy-like. He’d proven entertainment for Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye for the first year as well as most of the department. He bounced from one end of the office to the next, learning how and when to play. At home, he learned to be obedient and calm. In less than a year, he’d grown into quite the dog, if Riza said so herself. His black and white fluffy tail wagged as she looked at him, appreciating the attention she was giving him before getting in the shower. But Riza knew he’d stay in his bed till she returned. 

He still jumped up and down a bit, wagging his tail with an open mouth as they got ready to go outside. His food routine was pristine and worthy of Riza’s reputation. He walked by her side, flawlessly heeled. But putting his leash on in the mornings? He still danced around a little bit. That was something still something to work on. “Sit,” she ordered firmly. Hayate did immediately, his tail still thumping against the floor. Her fingers carefully clipped the leash onto the collar. “Now, wait.” He sat still, tail wagging, as the door was opened and Riza stepped out. “Okay, Hayate. Heel.” 

She could see the snow falling through the door’s window of her apartment complex. “Oh,” she said in surprise. But Hayate would have none of it. She opened the door and stepped out the feel a tug on her leash. He growled, looking up at the sky. It was a curious growl, unsure of what was going on. “It’s just snow,” she said with a chuckle. He relented, stepping out into the fresh snow. He lifted his paws, looking at it and the print in the snow, then up at her, back down at the snow. His tail began to wag once more and he looked around to see it falling around him. 

Riza waited patiently for him to adjust to the white surprise. She wasn’t in any rush. It was her day off and now she was open to the idea of watching her faithful dog bounce happily in the snow. He bit at it falling, looking upset that he wasn’t catching anything. Then sniffed the ground before biting it. She surmised that he was taken aback by the cold sensation on his tongue. He seemed to want to spit it out, only to feel it dissolve in his mouth. His tongue slipped in and out, looking disgusted, before turning to bite it again. Riza tried not to laugh. “Come,” she chuckled. “Let’s go to the park.” 

His ears pivoted as the sound of boots made a soft crunch on the snow. His own feet were making it too. He turned behind to see his footprints, trailing from where he’d been moments ago. Riza knew it wasn’t something he’d ever seen before. He was used to the grassy fields of the headquarter’s courtyards, or the rough carpet of the office as far as his normal environment. She could also see that he was doing his best to adapt. It didn’t snow very often in East City, a special treat for both her and Hayate. Within a couple days, she was sure it’d turn to rain and the season would be less than amusing to her Colonel. 

The children of the city were celebrating the snow, considering it was the weekend, at the park. There were snowball fights, a giant snowman being built, and snow angels decorating the hills. By this point, Hayate had refocused on his owner’s side, and Riza was amused at the children. It was always good to see children in their innocence, playing and enjoying something before adulthood took the joy away. Even Hayate, who in his animal innocence, offered her peace of mind that things could be simple. Her steps were lazy, her eyes watching as two children made snowballs to throw at their friends. Her hands buried themselves in her pockets the leash hanging slack on her wrist. She walked slowly, smiling as she felt the snow peck her nose. Riza should have grabbed a scarf in the chilly air. She supposed she’d start making her way home soon. 

A tug and yip from Hayate made her look down. He was barking at the snowballs. Her eyes darted from him to the balls being thrown. His tail wagged happily, his tongue out as he watched the snow being thrown. 

“Does your dog like balls?” A child nearby asked. 

“He does,” Riza smiled. 

“He can play with us.” The kid made a ball, tossing it in the air at Hayate. The dog jumped up, only chomping down on it to see it disappear. He stood there, aggravated that the ball was just a cold impact in his mouth. He barked again before Riza bent down and unclipped her dog. He was still a puppy and a great dog, there was no reason he couldn’t go play with the kids for a while. When she called, he’d come back. 

“You’re going to get sick if you don’t wear a hat, Lieutenant.” 

Riza looked next to her to see a handsome man holding a pair of gloves out to her. He was wearing a hat with a heavy black wool coat. “Colonel,” she greeted with a nod. “Are you out to see the kids play too?”

“And a dog,” he grinned. 

She accepted the gloves, putting them on with a smile. 

“At least it’s not raining,” he chuckled. “It’s not like East City to snow. Maybe it’s a sign of good luck.” 

“I think so, Sir.” 

He stood next to her, his hand brushing hers. “It seems that he doesn’t understand snow.” He nodded towards the black and white dog pouncing in the snow after a snowball had landed there, disappearing. She felt another brush, his pinky finger rubbing against hers. 

“No, Sir. This is the first time he’s seen it.” 

Hayate rolled in the snow after a child making a snow angel, jumping up to shake it off before chasing the next kid behind the snowman. 

“I think he will sleep well after this,” Riza said, reaching out as her finger touched his in return. “It will be good tomorrow when I have more work to get done at the office. 

“It’s our day off, let’s not think of work.” She watched as the white the puff of breath dissipated into the air. 

Hayate barked and broke her imagined dream of them not at work but in her living room sipping a warm tea or a cocoa. He barked and snarled as the children put a hat on the snowman, the eyes already in place. Two other children stuck sticks in the sides, laughing. Hayate backed up between Riza and the evil snowman, barking angrily. The children only laughed, twisting the arms so the branches moved, making it look as if he was waving. Hayate didn’t like that at all. 

“Black Hayate,” Colonel Mustang called. 

The dog completely ignored him, backing up to protect his master. 

“Hayate, no,” Riza said firmly. Her faithful canine stopped barked, grumping one last time before sitting down. 

“Why does he ignore me,” the Colonel sighed. 

“He’s the only one that does.” She chuckled. “Shall we go get a cocoa then?” 

The Colonel nodded, smiling as he tilted his head affectionately towards his Lieutenant. “I know a great place on 31st.” Little did anyone know, his place was on 31st. But Riza knew. They both looked over to see her dog lift his leg to pee on the snowman. 

“Hey,” two kids yelled and tried to grab the puppy. He had no interest in being caught and barked as he evaded their little mittened hands. It’d quickly turned into a game of catch the dog, which Hayate was more than happy to play. He jumped easily over the fort walls, sliding and swinging in the snow with a grin. 

“He’s definitely enjoying this.” 

Riza nodded. “We were out last week and he and two other dogs bonded.” 

“Bonded?”

“They played a short of tag game,” she concluded. “He is quite quick on his feet.” 

“Like someone else I know,” he grinned, looking at her with a light laugh. 

“You’re funny, Sir.” 

“Let me-” 

“No,” Riza quickly interjected. “I can get Hayate.” 

“I insist,” the Colonel grinned. “Kids love me, and your Black Hayate does too.” 

Black Hayate thought it was another game. The black dog bounced from one end to the other, Colonel Mustang raising his finger to indicate to Riza that he had it before Hayate would bounce to the other end. The kids joined in on the fun, chasing him from Roy. “Come,” he called gently. “Come on, Hayate.” The dog only smiled, his tongue hanging out in a boastful grin. Roy bent down, standing wide as a kid chased Riza’s dog his way. Roy leaned forward, reaching over to catch the laughing pup, but he proved uncatchable again as he turned ninety degrees and darted between two kids. Roy was in the snow. His feet slipped from under him, landing with quite the gruff. 

It took a lot for Riza not to laugh. She sighed, recognizing that her Colonel was not only useless in rain but also snow. “Black Hayate,” she called with a pat on the thigh. 

Mustang stood up, resisting a threatening slip again as he brushed his pants off. “I had him on the run,” he joked with a chuckle. 

“I’m sure you did, Sir.” 

Hayate didn’t understand love like Riza did. He had a sense of love to her, and maybe that was the same that he saw with the affectionate gazes that were exchanged. But he didn’t understand the shoulder bumps or the light chuckles. Like him to her, there was a sense of loyalty that hung in the air with the two. Just by looks, Hayate would guess they were two were colleagues. His puppy instincts felt the air around them and they told another story altogether. He’d seen this before too. As his little puppy paws made little prints in the snow, two sets of boot prints set in the snow beside his. They were his pack. In the first snow he’d ever experienced, he also found a more amusing love than white cool puffs.

[katestrophic]

Royai Week Day 2

Prompt: Little Pistol by Mother Mother

Day 2! I struggled a little bit with the prompt, but this is what I came up with. It does contain some wacky imagery, but I hope you enjoy ^^;

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Up on my side, where it is felt

I pack a little pistol on my pistol belt

I think it might be fear

Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

Riza knew better. Riza always knew better.

She knew better than to get close to any of the apprentices her father took on. It wasn’t because of some negative experience she had with one (not yet at least). It was simply common sense and from what she had observed.

They’d always come, young and bright eyed, excited to learn everything that her father had in store for them. But, they’d always leave. They couldn’t handle the amount of research they needed to learn. They couldn’t please her father and his high demands. They couldn’t deal with his strict teachings.

No one ever stayed long enough to learn everything her father had for them. And it was because of that Riza never bothered to befriend any of them. She maintained a indifferent relationship with all of them. She kept a pistol on her and held it out in order to maintain that distant relationship. The apprentice was just a houseguest that she had to tend to, that’s all. In some cases, she never even saw their faces, only learned their names.

That all changed when he came along.

Roy Mustang. A young boy with black hair and gray eyes. Gray eyes that were just as bright as everyone else that came before him. He was a few years older than her. Riza had expected the pattern to repeat and didn’t prepare herself for the long haul. Unfortunately for her, Roy had different plans.

It was a mundane afternoon that he approached her. She was taking the sheets off the drying line when he seemingly manifested behind one of them. Riza jumped, as she did not expect Roy to be there but quickly recovered. “Yes?” She asked, drawing her pistol and held it to her chest, close to her heart.

“I just wanted to get to know you better,” Roy explained. “I never really get to talk to you, let alone see you.”

He took a step closer and Riza held out her pistol in order to maintain distance. “You’re not here to make friends,” she snapped. “Father will be furious at the both of us if he finds us hanging around. You are a student, and I am the teacher”s daughter. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Roy hesitated at first before sighing, turning on his heel and head back into the house. Riza put the pistol back in her pocket and turned back around, resuming her chores.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end to their encounters. Time and time again, Riza would run into Roy who just apparently to be around where she was. The first few times, she chalked it up to coincidence and just held out her pistol to ward Roy off as if he was some evil spirit. As these encounters began to occur more and more often, Riza slowly came to the realization that they were calculated, not unexpected. That fact alone infuriated her.

The next time they ran into each other, Riza was weeding the vegetable garden that she had growing in the backyard. Roy just happened to come out of the house the precise moment she began that task. “Hey,” he said, standing off to the side as Riza bent over, yanking the weeds out from between the growing vegetables.

Riza wasted no time. She stood straight and drew her pistol, holding it out at Roy. “You planned this, didn’t you?” She yelled at him. “All these encounters...they aren’t some mere coindences, are they? How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want anything to do with you? Go away!”

“Please don’t get upset!” Roy pleaded, stepping closer to her.

“No!” Riza shouted, stepping back as well, but still holding her pistol out at him. “Leave me alone! Go back to your studies!” It was then Riza began to dryly laugh. “Actually...why should I be telling you that?” She sneered. “It’s only a matter of time before you leave, just like the rest of them!”

“I never intend on leaving here,” Roy insisted, stepping closer.

Riza was baffled at Roy. Couldn’t he see that she wanted to maintain distance? That, she didn’t want a friendship with him? Why was he so annoyingly persistent. Regardless, she snapped back, “That’s what they all said. And you know what happened to them? They’d all left.”

“Well, luckily for you, I happen to be very stubborn,” Roy proclaimed, stepping closer and closer until he nearly closed the distance between them, the pistol practically stabbing him in the heart. “Please? I just want to talk. Have a conversation with you. Just this once.”

Riza was stunned. She’d never seen someone this persistent with something. But, perhaps she’d humor him, just this once. Just to bring some variety into this repetitive pattern she’d became accustomed to.

“Fine,” she sighed in defeat, dropping the arm that held the pistol. “Let’s talk.”

Roy’s eyes lit up.

*~*~*~*~*~

Who knew that one conversation Riza and Roy has once became two, then three, and soon the two were hanging around whenever her father was busy or resting. They made sure to keep quiet whenever they did so they wouldn’t disturb him. She had stop carrying her pistol around her, getting comfortable around Roy.

As Roy got further and further into her studies, he began to move on from the basics into Riza’s father’s studies. Roy’s bright eyes soon burned with flames of passion, determined to stick around, even though he had gotten further than any other apprentice in the past.

One day, when Riza came into the garden, she was greeted with a very strange sight. In between the patches of vegetables was a single, burning rose. It’s flames flickered, as the fire was small. As she watched the flames move around, it reminded her of the fire that burned in Roy’s eyes whenever she saw him studying.

Upon having that thought, Riza’s eyes widened with realization. She had fallen in love with Roy. She shook her head, taking a step back, the flames on the rose burning brighter with the realization. She turned and fled the garden, not even bothering to pick the vegetables that day.

It wasn’t meant to go this far. She only meant to be friends with him. She never intended to befriend him in the first place. She shouldn’t had let her guard down so easily. She should’ve been more determined to keep Roy out, just like how determined he was to further his studies...

She shook her head, ridding herself of that thought. She needed to get rid of these feelings for Roy right away.

Soon, she distanced herself from Roy just like she had with the beginning. Roy was confused with her actions-they used to be please friends, Why was Riza now giving him the cold shoulder? She even began to carry her pistol around her again to maintain that distance once more.

But, the inevitable happened. Roy left. He didn’t leave because the work became too hard, or he couldn’t meet her father’s expectations, or he was displeased with how her father taught him, oh no. It was so much worse.

He left to join the military academy.

Her father was devasted and betrayed, never taking on another apprentice again after Roy left. Riza was upset too, as she had opened herself up to Roy. But, even with him gone, her feelings for him never went away, no matter how hard she tried. She was reminded of this every single time she went into the vegetable garden and saw that burning rose. She learned to ignore it as time went on whenever she had to work there.

But, her father’s life ultimately came to an end tragically. Roy had came back from the academy to visit and witnessed to his death, coughing up blood as the life drained from his eyes. A funeral was held, with Roy and Riza being the only attendees. As they headed back to the now empty home, Roy asked, “Is it okay for me to stay at your place for a while? I originally intended to come down and visit you and Master Hawkey. But now he’s gone, and I want to help you out around the house until I have to return.”

Riza looked into Roy’s eyes before replying, “Sure, I guess. I really don’t mind.”

Roy maintained eye contact for a short moment before breaking it, thanking her briefly. Even after joining the academy, those flames of passion never left his eyes, just like the fire in that rose still sitting in that vegetable garden...

That night, Riza couldn’t sleep, tossing and turn in her cot. Out the window, she could see the soft glow of the fire from the rose that still burned. Seeing that she had nothing better to do, Riza crept out of bed and into the garden. She inspected the rose more closely, never doing so before even though it sat there for a while. Its red bud was engulfed in orange and yellow flames that flickered, along with a regular green stem that had some thorns on it.

Carefully, Riza took a finger and held it close to the flame, just enough to lick it. As the flame made contact with her skin, a warm, fuzzy feeling filled her heart and spread throughout her body. She blinked, surprised that she didn’t burn herself touching the fire. She stroked the blazing petals gingerly and those same feelings filled her once more, now stronger.

Those flames were harmless. They never burned anything. They weren’t supposed to hurt anybody or anything.

Why didn’t Riza realize it sooner?

“Riza?” A sleepy voice called out to her.

She turned around, still clutching the burning rose to her chest, close to her heart. Roy was outside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” He yawned. “Can’t sleep? Do you want to talk? I know we drifted apart before I left, but I want us to be close friends again. I really missed that.”

The flames began to hurt Riza slightly upon hearing close friends, and she knew what to do. She came into Roy’s face and placed her lips over his, kissing him quickly. When she pulled back, Roy was stunned. He looked no longer sleepy as his eyes were wide. He stood, frozen, still processing what just happened.

She snickered at his reaction. “I love you, Roy,” she stated.

Slowly, it all fell into place. Why the distance, why the cold shoulder, why everything. Roy snickered as well as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her and pecking her cheek. “Love you too, Riza,” he said. “Man, why are you girls so complicated?”

Riza laughed softly, still holding the burning rose in its hand as it flames burned brighter than ever before.

She vowed to never carry her pistol around Roy ever again.

And I, well I found what’s best for me

And now I see no tragedy

And I, I found a burning rose

And now I won’t be packing little pistols

No, no, no more

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In case the symbolism isn’t exactly clear, the pistol that Riza carries is her guard that she has up against Roy, telling herself not to get too attached to him because he’ll leave eventually, but stops bringing it once she lets her guard down around him. The burning rose is her realization that she loves Roy which develops over the course of this mini story. Roy doesn’t see the pistol or the burning rose, only Riza and by proxy, the audience can.

[prettywitchiusaka]

Royai Scene 93

So I’ve been watching a lot or rSlash Reddit videos these days, which is where the idea for this scene came from. Plus, I saw the theme for Day 3 of this year’s Royai Week and I just couldn’t resist!

.....................................

(The scene begins on a train at around sunset. Roy and Riza are sitting in a regular car with several people, having arrived late to the train station and unable to purchase a ticket for a private car.)

(Not that either of them mind; at least they’re together. Right now, Riza is reading a new book she bought earlier in the day. And Roy? He’s just sitting there, thinking about the day’s events with a smile on his face.)

(He’s still recovering from his fight with Bradley, but he’s happy he can stand, at least. Even Riza seems a bit more relaxed these days, he’s noticed. Now she actually smiles at him without a hint of guilt in her eyes, which he’s grateful for.)

(And now that he can walk again, she’s been doing her best to take him new places and get some fresh air. Today, she took him to a little sea side town where they ventured into the little shops and ate lunch at a nice cafe. They even took a walk on the beach, barefoot.)

(Granted, his leg still hurt when he walked and he had to use a cane, but he was okay with that. For the first time in (what must have been) years he didn’t feel so angry. On the contrary, he felt at peace. And why shouldn’t he?)

(It was nice living life day to day, knowing you have a faithful companion at your side. He couldn’t wait to see what was in store for them tomorrow-)

L: Won’t anybody offer a lady their seat!?

(Having been so rudely interrupted from his thoughts, Roy turns to see a young lady about his age in a fake fur coat and high heels.)

L: Come on, people! I’ve been on my feet all day! I need to sit!

(She keeps whining.)

(Roy admittedly finds the girl’s demands irritating (the car is full and so are the other cars), but he ignores it at first. He does how annoyed Riza is when he turns to see her expression. He even chuckles a bit.)

(But she keeps going on and on about how her feet are sore! How much she deserves a seat because she works for a living! It just won’t end!)

(So with a small grin on his face, Roy decides to give her what she wants.)

(He grabs his cane and slowly stands up - catching Riza’s attention - and turns to the woman.)

M: Excuse me. (The woman turns to him.) You can have our seat. My assistant and I can find somewhere else to sit.

(He hears Riza get up from her seat.)

H: General, what are you-

(He turns to her with a smile and places his hand on her shoulder.)

M: It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Besides, this woman’s been on her feet all day. I think her poor feet need it more than I do.

(He watches her turn, knowing it won’t take her long to see the exact same thing he’s seeing; people are starting to give the woman angry glares.)

(Without missing a beat, she clears her throat and stands at attention.)

H: Very well, Sir. If you’re alright with it.

(He smiles.)

(She grabs her purse and begins to walk very slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way towards the door, Riza in toe.)

L: You can just keep sitting here, I don’t need it that badly.

(Roy turns to the lady, trying hard not to smirk.)

M: You just said you really needed it, so take it.

(He turns and walks into the next car, Riza following him. A big smile on his face now that he knows he gave the lady of taste of her own medicine. Just before he left the car, he noticed that people were staring daggers into the woman, now. Some were even whispering to each other.)

(Now that they were out of sight, Roy walks at his normal pace and finds a small spot they can can both squeeze into.)

H: You’re sure you don’t mind standing for awhile?

(He shrugs.)

M: Can’t help it if someone’s being a bitch. (He turns a flashes a small smirk her way.) Besides, I think she got the message.

(They both start laughing.)

(A very harsh way to learn that life isn’t always fair, indeed!