#stray and/or roy can cheer him up

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Seven

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: EAT UP FOOD IS READY !!!

Word count: 8.4k

Chapter Seven

Roy had never experienced something so visceral. He read your article again, and again, and again, and each time the words stuck deeper into the different compartments of his brain. The red alert in his mind, besides your fluttering words, was how awful he’d fucking acted, how rude, how dismissive, how fucking mean. Everyone thought he was mean because of the profanity, the bluntness, the social outing aversions, but the last person he wanted to think of him as truly mean was you.

Roy didn’t want you to leave Richmond thinking the worst about him. He wanted you to leave with your head high, with multiple new people to text and call and have coffee with, with an abundance of people to send your book to after it inevitably published in a few years. Roy wanted to be on that mailing list, too, or– better yet– to meet up with you so he could get you to sign it for him.

Roy couldn’t believe how long he’d moped for. He’d never once tried to rectify the situation, while you’d been trying to keep things normal for the sake of both of your sanities, for almost a month. You painfully said hello to him every morning still, and smiled in the corridor, and kept up with your work schedule, while he’d all but fallen after his own actions. He was a grown man, and no stranger to spats, but this hit it out of the park– all because he couldn’t own up to his own fear.

If he’d just fucking read it sooner, then it wouldn’t have got to this point. If he’d just bit away his pride and breathed through the terror, he’d still be driving you home after work, and hearing your cheers in the stands for the team that you both loved dearly. He’d taken that solace away from you–

And he knew he had to fix it as soon as possible.

The day after he’d read your article, you were absent at another weekend match. That was four in a row, Roy counted sullenly. This simply wouldn’t do. Come next week, he’d bear his soul on his fucking sleeve. You’d done it so effortlessly during the argument, putting your feelings on the line while he’d all but smacked them away.

When he drove past your building on Monday morning, he had the most insane urge to stop and knock on your door. He had to hold himself back, instead opting to floor the accelerator just to get your apartment out of his eyeline. He parked and slammed his door strongly, dead set on his route to your office as soon as he entered the stadium. His heart was in his throat as he rounded the hallway and approached your door.

Your name was already on the tip of his tongue when he burst through the doorway, ready to lay it all out and apologise profusely, to explain how shitty he’d been and not excuse it, to spill his guts on the grey carpet for you to understand fully–

But you weren’t there.

He stopped and held his breath when he saw your empty desk. There was no laptop, no bag, no cup of coffee from the cafe or a stray pile of books that were all half read. Without trying, he could imagine you sat there, peering up at him with wide eyes that would only make him fucking melt on the spot– but instead there was nothing.

He recomposed himself, clearing his throat a little, before he turned and left your empty office. He headed to the locker room like normal, and stalled his inevitable outburst until the time you arrived later.

When you hadn’t shown up by lunchtime, Roy’s anxiety hit its peak. He tried to keep up with his workout normally, putting one foot in front of the other on the elevated treadmill, peering through the window at the tiny sliver of your office he could see from this position. Usually, you’d be tapping away at your keyboard, or leaned back in your chair looking at the ceiling, but there was nothing today.

It was one thing having you absent from games, but a whole other can of worms when you weren’t at the stadium at all. He didn’t fucking like it, and it grated on him extensively until he found himself storming into Ted and Beard’s office from lack of what else to fucking do.

He didn’t knock when he cut into their office through the locker room. Ted smiled with his teeth as soon as Roy was in the room, and Beard looked at him silently with his feet up on the desk and a book in his hand.

“Roy! What’s shaking–”

“If you finish that sentence with Kevin Bacon I will fly my fist through this fucking wall,” he cut over Ted strongly, pointing at the wall immediately to his right.

Ted recoiled instantly. “Alright, you’re definitely not one for rhymes. Noted.” He shuffled at his desk, and placed his hands together on the top smartly. “What can we help you with?”

“Where is she and why is her office fucking empty?” Roy wasted no time. He didn’t even have to say your name for them to know who he was talking about.  

Ted and Beard shared a knowing glance. Beard cleared his throat and adjusted the cap on his head. “Called in sick this morning. Got a cold, she said.”

Having a cold was the oldest fucking excuse in the book for calling in sick. Roy knew that well, considering he’d done it at school too many times to count.

“Will she be in tomorrow?” Roy asked sternly.

“Don’t know, Barry Manilow,” Ted said, and he winced immediately afterwards. “Sorry, that one just popped out without me even thinking.”

Roy clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “Fuck!” he exclaimed suddenly, loudly, but Ted and Beard were so used to it by now that they hardly reacted.

Beard pouted quizzically. “You read the article, then.” Roy sent him a pained look, but it was enough to explain everything. Beard looked back at his book and let out a sassy mhm in recognition.

“Four games. She’s missed four fucking games,” Roy said, losing some of the edge from his tone. “It’s all because of me.”

Ted nodded, humming to himself in understanding. “I think you might be right about that, Roy.”

Beard let out a sigh. “Probably got something to do with the fact you yelled and dismissed all her hard work directly to her face.” Roy shot a deadly stare at him, but Beard simply licked his finger and turned to the next page of his book.

Ted bobbed his head to the side. “And then took a month to read said work and haven’t even attempted to apologise yet–”

“I fucking get it,” Roy cut over him. “I fucked up.”

“Royally,” said Ted.

“To oblivion,” said Beard.

“Fuck!” Roy exclaimed again, but this time to the floor. He was so angry with himself. He was so sad that he’d made you so sad.

“Now, I know yelling profanity into the stratosphere might be a great coping mechanism for you, Roy, but I’m not so sure that’s going to help clean up the rest of this here mess.” Ted stood slowly, sticking his hands in his pockets, as he rounded his desk to stand opposite his team Captain. “What did you think?”

Roy forced himself to look at his coach. He clenched his jaw. “Of what?”

“The article,” Ted urged.

There were so many words that Roy would use to describe what you’d written. Lovely, passionate, the nicest thing he’d ever fucking read, and the nicest thing he’d ever had done for his sake. But the words he chose were ones that he’d slept upon since he’d first read it.

“I don’t deserve it.” He sucked in a rattling breath. “Those words in that order were something I have never fucking deserved to have written about me, especially by her.”

Ted shrugged. “Well, I personally don’t think that. Do you, Coach?” He turned to Beard.

Beard shook his head with his face buried in his book. “Nope,” he said. “But, I can definitely see why you’d think that.” Beard’s voice trailed off quietly.

“We’re in agreement there, for sure, but–” Ted turned back to Roy, and smiled at him gently. “I think all of us can accurately say that, if her opinion of you is as high as she wrote in that article, then it’s gotta be gosh darn true, now, doesn’t it.”

Roy tried to digest Ted’s words, but none of it was making him feel any better. He didn’t need people telling him he deserved nice things at the best of times, but after the way he’d acted that was the last fucking thing he wanted. All it did was cement how badly he’d overreacted, how badly he’d misunderstood your intentions and feelings.

“She isn’t the kind of person to lie, Roy– especially not about someone she regards highly. And I think you know that very well, already.” Ted furrowed his brows softly, and Roy finally relaxed his hands.

His arms felt shaky with how much he’d been tensing his muscles. His chest felt lighter when he breathed in and out, filling up his lungs with fresh air, as he tried to rationalise and believe everything that Ted was saying.

“My apology isn’t going to be enough to fix this,” Roy said lowly. “Saying sorry seems like a fucking waste after all I’ve done.”

“Maybe so,” Ted acknowledged. “But, it’s a heck of a good place to start.”

Your head pounded painfully. Your limbs ached incessantly. You didn’t think it was possible to contract a cold in the Spring, but your body had proved you wrong. All you could realistically do was lay in bed, but you did so with your laptop propped atop your duvet covered torso, just so you could still answer emails and get some work done.

If anything, the quiet of your apartment felt calmer. It was different to the quiet that you experienced at the Dogtrack, especially after the fight last month. Roy hadn’t so much as said two sentences to you in that time, but neither had you to him, so both of you were as bad as each other.

Oddly, though, you felt at peace. You’d made yourself clear, and given him the option to keep up or fall behind. When you looked at him now, all you saw were the remnants of your confrontation, playing over and over in his head constantly. You wondered if he’d read the article, or if he would never. You wondered if you’d ever get back to the way you were before all of this bollocks started.

You kept thinking before that you wished you’d never written the damn thing, but that wasn’t necessarily true. You were proud of it, even if Roy wasn’t. You were being noticed after it had been published, and it had flowered a few opportunities— post MA— for you. It had worked out in your favour. It could work out in Roy’s too, if only he’d open his damn mind.

There was part of you that didn’t even want to fix this, but whenever you found yourself thinking of that outcome you felt guilty. You knew Roy, or thought you did, and wanted to say for certain that he’d try to resolve this. But, as the days dwindled past, that outcome was getting further and further away from you.

If anything, being ill had given you a bit of a break. Sat in bed with your laptop, you weren’t overly anxious about seeing Roy’s face in the hallway, or in the locker room. You didn’t feel the need to be quiet when he was present, or felt the painful pang of your heart whenever he looked straight past you. Instead, you were comfortable under your duvet, dosed up on cold and flu capsules, and ready for a nap despite it being the early afternoon.

You were stripped from your relaxation as soon as your buzzer went off. You groaned as you got up, trying to keep yourself steady on your weak legs. When you clicked the intercom, you let out a disgruntled hello.

“Hey, it’s Eli from the upstairs flat! Sorry, I forgot my keys. Can you buzz me in?” your neighbour asked. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, because– for a split second– you’d thought it might’ve been Roy. Just maybe.

“Of course,” you breathed out. “Come on in.” You unlocked the main door with your intercom buzzer. You heard it click open outside the door of your flat, and slam closed again. Eli’s footsteps bound up the stairs and into his own apartment.

You turned around and leant against your front door. You shivered as your back hit the subtle cold of the wood, and you let out a colossal sigh as you fluttered your eyes shut. This needed to stop. Thinking of him, expecting him to behave in the way you’d always thought he was capable of, because all you got from it was disappointment. Maybe he’d decided to bin this all off, just so it made his life easier. Maybe you’d utterly misjudged the situation, and he thought you were a mental case.

Either way, Roy wasn’t going to come to your front door. He wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness, or apologise, or look at you with his dark eyes like he couldn’t fucking stand the fact he’d made you sad. Roy Kent wasn’t going to do any of that.

And you just had to accept it.

You composed yourself enough to stand up straight again, and when you opened your eyes you took in the state of your fucking apartment. It had become a mess over the past month, since you’d found yourself almost unable to complete the basic house chores and tasks that you usually did. It was just too hard to do your laundry now, or run a hoover around your floor, or make yourself substantial meals. All of it proved to be entirely too much when you were reminded of just how fucking sad you felt. You knew it was silly to hold onto these emotions, but when they were further perpetuated every time you stepped into your workplace, it made it all the more difficult to shrug it aside.

You went to let out a sigh of frustration at yourself, but that abruptly turned into a shocked gasp when your intercom buzzer went off again. You clutched a haste hand to your heart, before you swivelled around and pressed down on the receiver.

“Hello?” you let out.

“Hey.” You stopped breathing when his croaking voice hit your ears. It was only made more static through the speaker, but you’d recognise it anywhere.

You gulped away the shock of it all as fast as you could. “Roy?” you asked. It was a stupid question, you knew it was him already.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

“What are you–?” you said, but stopped yourself when you realised how frantic your voice sounded. You took in a quick and shaking breath. “What’s up?” you settled on, in the spirit of seeming cool and composed, despite being the absolute opposite.

“Can I come in?” Roy asked, and you were struck by the immediate want to reject him. You and your flat were a state. You were still in your fucking pyjamas.

“I’m… not very well,” you said, but you winced as you did so. It sounded so bad, and you truly wanted to see him, just not like this. Part of you had started aching even more so after you’d realised it was his voice over the intercom.

You thought he’d growl, or swear, or do anything else than what he actually did. “I don’t care,” Roy said lowly. “I’ll take the risk of catching whatever you have, just please let me in.”

You lowered your forehead to your front door again, your heart racing. Was this really the right time for him to see you at rock fucking bottom? A mess, inside and out, ill and full of snot, as well as sleep deprived? You didn’t want him to enter only to want to immediately leave again. Not now. Not after it had been so long. Not after he’d finally plucked up the courage to make an effort.

Exhaling through your nose, you clicked down on the intercom stubbornly. “Okay, come in.” You pressed the buzzer to the front of your building, and quickly unlocked your own door, all the while trying to stop your fingers from shaking.

Roy pushed the door to your building open, and as he did, you debated whether to open the door for him, or get him to knock. You shuffled on your bare feet before your door, hearing the slow and intentional footsteps of him outside, but you still couldn’t decide–

That’s when he knocked.

And you let out an abrupt. “It’s open.”

He let himself in as you quickly launched yourself at your cluttered coffee table. You started picking up mugs as the door opened, and before you could even lay your eyes on Roy before you, you dashed to the kitchen with them in your arms.

They clattered on the worktop as you placed them down. One fell into the sink and the handle almost snapped off. You tried not to think about the fact you looked like a mess, or how entirely unprepared you were for this at the moment. This had been the last thing you’d been expecting today. Your heart wasn’t ready to be put on the line again, not after the month you’d just endured.

You hunched your shoulders to your ears as you leaned by the sink. Roy shut the door behind him and clicked the lock from habit.

“Hey,” he said again, and his voice reverberated throughout your apartment. When it hit the back of your neck, you shivered.

You gulped, and forced yourself to be as normal as possible. “In the kitchen!” you said cheerily, but even Roy knew you were lying. You got deja vu from the night of the charity ball when you heard his steps on the floor.

He strolled around the corner and stood by the counter behind you, a few metres from where you were hunched over the sink. You could feel his presence, a warm feeling on your back, that made your hairs stand up on end. Goosebumps prickled on your arms, alongside a few drops of sweat on your forehead that could have been from your raised temperature, or just from the fact that Roy was in your fucking flat.

You slowly picked up one of the mugs to your right and started washing it up. The water was cold, but you didn’t care.

“Coach said you called in sick,” Roy started.

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I’ve definitely been better.”

“I thought I’d… come and check in on you,” he said. You closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to run your mouth or say something entirely stupid.

Quickly, you dropped the mug you were holding and turned off the tap. You turned around to meet his eye, before leaning against the sink behind you, keeping your shoulders hunched up defensively.

“Thank you, but I’m just fine.” Your throat felt like sandpaper as soon as you allowed yourself to finally look at him properly.

Roy’s eyes were glassy, glassier than you’d ever seen them before. He had this almost pitying look on his face, but you knew that Roy Kent didn’t pity anyone, least of all himself. He looked chastised, he looked guilty, and the way his hands were balled at his sides made you want to take them in your own and delicately swipe your fingers over his distressed knuckles.

“I thought you were lying about being ill,” Roy explained.

You scoffed, only to give yourself an excuse to look at the floor. His stare was too intense, too exposing. “Why would I lie about that?”

“To avoid me,” Roy said immediately. You froze, and you frowned.

“Do you really think I’d do that, Roy?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, as you caught his eye once more.

Roy shook his head. “It’s something I would do,” he said, before he winced at himself. “It’s something I fucking did, your first week on the job.” Realisation slapped him around the face. “I wouldn’t blame you—,” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did that to avoid me.”

You swallowed the want to vomit. Maybe it was from the excess amount of paracetamol and ibuprofen you’d consumed over the past three days, but you heavily doubted that. It was because all that you’d thought wouldn’t happen was actually happening. Roy was here, and he was looking at you like he knew just how badly he’d fucked up and hurt you. He was looking at you like he was on the brink of confessing his deepest, darkest secrets.

And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted it. It had taken him a month to take initiative. Was that really something you were willing to excuse? Even if it was Roy?

“I wouldn’t avoid you like that, Roy,” you said gently. “Being on the receiving end of it was more than enough.”

Roy took a gentle step forward, but stopped when he saw your chest stutter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was soft and full of feeling. “I fucked up. And none of it was fair on you.”

You peered up at him, and tapped your fingers against the counter top. You didn’t know what to say, and somehow you couldn’t find the strength to say you forgave him immediately.

Roy took another step forward. “I shouldn’t have led you to believe I was okay with the article, and I shouldn’t have blown up at you after Keeley submitted it. I shouldn’t have ignored you, and avoided you. I should’ve— fuckin’— said something. I should have said that it wasn’t your fault, and acknowledged all the shit I was feeling, and not fucking—,” he stopped, and breathed in and out deeply. “I read it.”

Your heart stopped. “When?”

“On Friday night,” he said. “You didn’t come to the game on Saturday, and then when you weren’t in today, I just—,” he choked on his words, and your gut lurched. “The guys miss you.”

You didn’t care about the guys. Not right now. Not about this. Maybe that was his way of saying he missed you too.

Roy took another step forward, bridging the gap between you just a little more. “What you wrote, well it’s… not what I was expecting. I was scared, and I lashed out, and for that I can’t say sorry enough.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. “Thank you,” you croaked. You didn’t mean for it to be so, but your throat had all but closed up.

“Ted and Beard gave me a fucking grilling,” he said. You scoffed so abruptly that it took you by surprise. The faintest smile appeared on Roy’s lips. “Sam and Isaac told me to read it. I should have done it sooner. I should have done this sooner.”

This. Apologise. Put his heart on the line. All of it.

This was a step in the right direction, you knew that, but something held you back from fully accepting his words. The hurt he’d caused had done damage, and as much as you had closure now, you still needed time to heal.

You nodded again, and caught his eye strongly. “Thank you for saying so, Roy. I… yeah. Just thank you.”

Roy nodded at you, before he shuffled a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. What emerged was a bright blue and red Richmond shirt. He hovered it towards you, before he draped it open so you could see the number and name on the back.

“We had Nate make this for you,” he said.

Before you, you read the number 1, and above it read WRITER. Your heart swelled. You were part of the team in more ways than one now.

You breathed out through your nose gently as you took the shirt from his hands. You smiled, properly, for the first time in ages.

“I finally have something to wear on match days,” you said, and the smile that Roy shot your way was more than enough for you.

The moment ended abruptly when a dizzy spell hit you hard. Your face went sheet white and your gut dropped, similar to a feeling of falling. You clutched onto the kitchen counter with all your strength, just to keep yourself from keeling over.

Roy witnessed it all, and abruptly lunged at you. “Fuck,” he said quickly, as you gently brought a hand to your waist to keep you standing. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “I guess my diet of cold and flu meds and water for the past three days has finally hit me,” you let out, trying to keep things light.

“What can I do to help?” Roy asked.

You shook your head. “I just need to sleep it off.”

“Come on,” he said, as he proactively twisted himself so he held up your bodyweight with one arm. You draped your arm over his shoulder to make it easier, and the two of you gently started towards your room.

Roy could tell you were burning up. Your body temperature radiated onto him tenfold, and the clammy look on your face was enough to know you had a raging fever.

“I can’t believe I thought you fucking lied about being ill,” he said, and you let out a breathy chuckle. “You can’t even fucking stand properly.”

“I don’t like lying,” you said, as the two of you rounded the corner to your bedroom door. “I’m fine, really.”

“Doesn’t like lying but just tried to gaslight me. You’re one of those fucking sneaky ones, aren’t you?” Roy teased. You didn’t have the strength to laugh back as much as you wanted to, so you settled on a simply whispered ha. “For the record, I don’t like lying either,” he stated.

You gently placed your hand on his chest to stop him from walking you straight to your bed. You didn’t want to seem utterly pathetic.

“I’m alright, really. Just had a moment,” you said. Roy nodded, but he still stayed close after he let you go. You leaned against your door and peered up at him softly. “I’ll try and be back at work tomorrow, anyway.”

Roy furrowed his brows at you intensely. “If your arse shows up at Nelson Road tomorrow, I will personally shove you in my car and drive you straight fucking back here,” he said sternly.

You tried to stop yourself, but your lips curled upwards into a small and mischievous smile. It was funny when Roy got angry for the sake of your well-being. It was even funnier when you remembered you were still in your fucking pyjamas.

You raised your hands in defeat. “Alright,” you agreed without a fight.

“Okay,” he said, backing down. He took a few steps back towards your front door, but you stopped him by standing up straight.

“Wait,” you said, as you shuffled towards him and reached out behind him. You plucked his jacket from the peg on the wall to his left, and hovered it in front of him. “Just before I forget.”

Roy took his jacket from you gently, and folded it over his arm, imitating the football shirt over your own.

“I wonder how you even dealt with the fact I had that for more than five fucking months,” you said jokingly.

Roy shrugged. “I bought another one to match my suit.”

You widened your eyes at him, astounded. He’d known you had it all along. Maybe there was something to be said about that, about wanting you to always have a part of him.

“Fucking idiot,” you breathed out.

Roy smiled at you like the sun. “Go and rest,” he said, as he gently grabbed the door handle and opened it up.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay.” He nodded.

And then he was gone. After you locked the door behind him, you crawled back into bed. You could still feel his presence as you wrapped yourself in your duvet, and as you closed your eyes, all of his apologies replayed themselves beneath your eyelids.

As you recovered from this fucking flu, Rebecca let you work from home for the rest of the week. It was needed, and you still managed to stay productive in the daytime, without the need to be exhausted by social interactions. Sam texted you everyday, sending you well wishes and updating on what the guys were up to. They had another match coming up that Saturday, and the threat of relegation was even more so. With less than two months until the end of the season, and their final match being against Man City, you knew that they were all feeling the pressure.

You felt bad that you hadn’t been there to spur them on over the past month, but you realised almost reluctantly that you’d needed the time away. To reflect, to manage your emotions, to not hold back when Roy eventually apologised. Despite his kind words and accountability, you felt like you were almost back at square one with him–

Back to those first few months, before the charity ball, before that unspoken something had begun, but it was ten times worse now; because both of you knew that there was something there, but neither of you dared cross the line after the fight. The threat of losing the other forever was far too prominent, but you still felt yourself melt at the small things.

Roy texted you during the week at random times, with the most random of things.

Ted just told the team he thought bangers and mash was a famous porno film.

Just told the guys you’ll be at the game on Saturday and Isaac pulled down his pants in excitement.

Nate’s getting promoted to coach but he thinks Rebecca is gonna fire him. It’s fucking hilarious.

You replied accordingly, but that last one got you pumped up. Nate had always been a funny one. Too shy to properly open up to you, but sweet and kind in his own way. The amount of awkward interactions you’d had with him were enough to indicate his skills with women (or lack thereof) but you still enjoyed his company. He’d helped you during countless visiting sessions with the Diamond Dogs, and definitely liked gossip just as much as Higgins.

When you walked into the Dogtrack on Saturday, Richmond shirt donned and a skip in your step for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were coming home. It was that mixture of nostalgia that you got when you visited your family at Christmas, or when you saw someone you knew from secondary school. Excitement, but also the knowledge that you were stepping into an environment where you were properly known. Properly loved, even.

That’s what the Dogtrack felt like to you now, in all of her glory, with those creepy fucking pictures of the guys that dotted the walls on the stadium; the one of Roy always caught your eye when you entered the manager’s office. It was right by the door, and from Ted’s desk, you could see it if you turned your head to the left. It was like he was looking straight at you through the glass, arms crossed, jaw tensed. Roy fucking Kent.

You followed the familiar hallways of the lower level, headed to the locker room. There was a buzz in the air that you’d become accustomed to after multiple games, and you knew you’d arrived right on time for one of Ted’s pep talks. You heard his voice as you approached the door, and knew that you’d enter into the guys sitting on the benches, listening intently to their coach.

“Now fellas, I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here. That’s not what I’m here for, and that’s the last gosh darn thing I need to be telling you, when I bet you’ve all been thinking about it in your own time,” Ted said, and you caught a glimpse of him through the door. Hands in his pockets, a small smile making his moustache look like an upturned moon on his face. “You all know that you’re capable. When you’re in the flow, well… that’s some of the most beautiful football I’ve ever seen in my, albeit small, time as your coach.”

“It is like a modern dance,” Dani said from within the room. You could practically sense the nods of his teammates around him. “Let us play like we are on stage at the ballet, yes?”

“Well said, Dani!” Ted encouraged. “You know you can do it, and all I’m asking y’all to do is–”

“Believe,” you said suddenly, raising your voice, before you turned the corner and revealed yourself in the doorway. Your own confidence took you by surprise, but it paid off as soon as you saw the faces of the guys.

The energy in the room tripled, and their smiles shone on you like a goddamn spotlight. Ted was the first to approach you, placing a hand on your shoulder gently as he guided you further into the room. He didn’t need to say anything for you to feel the love they were exuding. And as much as you wanted to yell support at them, you knew you had an apology to make.

You turned to guys, urged on by Ted’s hand on your shoulder. “I know I haven’t been to a game for a while, and I’m sorry for that.” You shot the smallest of stares at Roy, only to find his gaze stuck on you already. You breathed out and continued. “But, I’m here now, and–” You turned around quickly, and pointed at the number and name on your shirt. “I’m Richmond till I fucking die!” you yelled, and Nate flinched next to Beard.

The team erupted like young volcanoes. Isaac jumped up first and fast, and bombarded towards you before you’d even fully turned around. He wrapped his arms around you strongly, and lifted you from the ground in a hug of epic proportions. Your feet dangled above the floor, but you simply accepted your fate and hugged him back.

They broke out in song– Richmond till we die, we’re Richmond till we die. We know we are, we’re sure we are, we’re Richmond till we die.

When Isaac finally dropped you to the floor, you stayed back to admire them. You did this whenever you could, just watched them as they pumped each other up, as they intertwined their emotions and got ready to fight a battle on the football pitch. It was a sight to behold, and one that you felt privileged to be able to see.

Just like at Everton, you were thrust from the scene by a tap on the shoulder by Roy. You whisked yourself around to face him, and regarded him thoughtfully. His eyes flicked back and forth between your own, before he peered down your shirt.

He raised his brows subtly. “It suits you,” he said.

You chuckled silently through your nose. “Liar,” you joked.

“It really brings out the neon glow on your face,” Roy said, sticking a hand out to gently prod one of your cheeks. You swatted him away, smiling to yourself as you did so. “Really though, have you run a fucking marathon or something?”

“Fuck off!”

“You’re sweating like you’ve just played ninety-minutes,” he teased.

“I was nervous, okay?” you chuckled out, and Roy’s own laughter melded into the mix.

He dropped his hand to his side, but you almost wished he’d kept it close by. As the last of the laughter trickled between you, a tense feeling hit you in the gut instead. You were reminded of his impromptu visit on Monday, and it all came flooding back to you before you could dam it up. There was something soft that transcended words between you, full of all the prior laughs, the yells, the stares that neither of you ever noticed from the other. The secretive ones, the ones that you were certain were private, until the other abruptly turned around from the feeling of being seen.

Roy cleared his throat, adamant not to blow his fucking cover. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, but as the words fell from his lips so too did the rest. The want, the need and everything in between.

You gulped down his words like you needed them to survive. “It’s good to be back.”

Everything fell back into place after your return. Richmond won the match that Saturday, and drinks were shared in the locker room until the early hours of the morning. You spent the Sunday after at your flat, writing your novel non-stop as a tsunami of inspiration struck you from out of the blue. Typing on your keyboard, you lost sense of time entirely, and found yourself writing for more than five hours before you got up to do anything– eat, drink, take a piss. Bursts of inspiration were a rarity for you, so you knew you had to bleed yourself dry before it lapsed.

As the last of your assignments were due, you took pleasure in the peace of your office at the stadium. You tried not to think about how fast time was running out. As the weeks rushed by, the inevitable end of your placement was fast approaching, but you weren’t going to let it get you down. You knew that, despite leaving Richmond, you had made friends for life. You’d be damned if you and Sam didn’t share book recommendations beyond your time working there, and you were determined to be a true Richmond season ticket holder from here on in.

They were your team, your family, and deep down you knew you’d always be welcomed back with open arms. You could already imagine yourself strolling the corridors after a game, or randomly dropping in on the guys during a lunch break. That craving wasn’t going to fade away anytime soon. You would embrace it.

Richmond’s match win upon your return was joyous, yes, but it wasn’t enough. As the final month of the season hit you, whispers whittled around the corridors of the lower levels of the Dogtrack. You knew the rumours, the whispers, the mutters, and it wasn’t just because of Higgin’s love of gossip–

It was written all over Roy’s face.

There wasn’t anything that triggered it, so to say, but his form was becoming more noticeable with every game that the guys played. For years, Roy had been a staple of AFC Richmond, but as Coach Lasso finally spread his wings across his players, it was clear to see there was a difference in performance when it came to their team Captain.

You noticed it alongside everyone else, one practice, when you’d decided to take your laptop outside and sit in the stands. As the guys ran drills, Roy’s abrupt curse words and incessant effing and blinding only exacerbated the levels of his struggle. This was exactly what he’d spoken about in your interview– the inevitably that he was slowing down, that he simply couldn’t catch up with his younger teammates anymore.

You saw it when he urged himself forward, through pain and stiff joints and hurt. You saw it when he avoided team outings after more failed plays during games. Eventually, there had to be a final straw, and it came in the form of Roy causing the team to lose during the penultimate match of the season.

It was too much to be ignored, and everyone knew it.

After the game, you entered the locker room as players started trickling out to head home. You hadn’t wanted to bombard them afterwards, least of all Roy. You sent Sam a small smile as he called it a night, and you found yourself sitting in the locker room with your back against Roy’s cubby. He was nowhere to be seen, and you’d heard mutters about him taking an ice-bath in the treatment room.

Ted strolled towards you from the manager’s office, and sent you a stellar smile as he sat next to you on the bench.

You breathed together in understanding. It was impossible not to feel the realisation of it all, and as much as you wanted Roy to keep going, you were afraid he was going to kill himself trying, instead.

“What’re you thinking about, writer?” Ted asked, and you huffed through your nose.

The team had been calling you writer after Nate had your shirt made. It was their nickname for you, despite it sounding like nothing affectionate. To you, though, it meant a lot.

“I don’t know,” you let out. “What’re you thinking about, Coach?”

Ted leaned back into Sam’s cubby, and sighed deeply. “I’m thinking about far too much to be able to pick just one thing, if I’m being honest,” he said in his familiar Southern drawl. You’d grown fond of it over the past eight months. “It all comes down to next week.”

“Relegation, you mean?” you asked. It was pointless to, but it was almost like addressing the elephant in the room.

“Relegation, indeed,” Ted said lowly. “Lemme ask you this.” He sat up straight, and turned to face you on the bench. “What would you do if you had to choose between the– objectively right– opinions of your fellow coaches, or the dignity and pride of one of the greatest football players of your generation?”

God, he was fucking talking about Roy. In any other moment, you’d be happy to talk about Roy until your voice was nothing but a crack, but if it was about benching him; you didn’t want to talk about it all. It was impossible to navigate, and even more impossible to accept that reality. Benching Roy before the final game of the season would affect more than just his feelings, and you were glad it wasn’t you that had to make Ted’s decision for him.

As much as you wanted Roy to play, there was part of you that wanted to scream at him to look at the bigger picture. This game wasn’t worth that pain. It wasn’t worth hurting himself to keep up with his teammates. If it was too much, that wasn’t anything to be ashamed of in your eyes, but you suspected that was very different on Roy’s part.

You sighed deeply, stuck at a crossroads. You suspected Beard and Nate had already been on Ted’s ass to get him to pull off the bandaid, to just say it to Roy and get it over with, but you didn’t want to add anything to the mix that would sway Ted’s decision further. It was hard enough as it was.

“That’s a decision I couldn’t possibly make, Coach,” you said finally, and shot him a knowing smile. “I’m not in your shoes, and if I was–” you stopped, struggling to get the words out. “Well, that’s just it. I’m not. I wouldn’t be able to decide. Not when I love them all so much.”

“The guys, you mean?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Amongst others, yes.”

Ted smiled at that, getting what you were hinting at. You loved them all. The guys, the coaches, Rebecca, Keeley, Higgins. Ted’s smile quickly turned into shock and realisation. “Oh, heck! I totally forgot about you.”

You squinted at him in surprise. “What about me?”

“Your placement finishes next week, don’t it?”

You gulped away the want to cry. “It does, indeed,” you mimicked his Southern drawl to break open the sadness and tension you felt, but Ted saw straight through you.

He leaned in gently, and bashed his shoulder against yours. “You really think they’re all gonna let you go that easy, huh?” he said jokingly, but the knowing look in his eyes made you feel seen. You suspected he felt it himself, too. With the threat of relegation mere days away, you didn’t doubt that the subject of Ted resigning had come up before.

He was actually thinking about it then, as the two of you shared a look that was impossible to ignore. In one glance, you both said the same thing– you’d both miss Richmond beyond belief when your time there came to an end.

“He’s in the treatment room,” Ted said suddenly, changing the subject. “Roy.”

“He probably wants to be left alone,” you said, staring off to the manager’s office door. Above it, Ted’s believe poster lit up the room.

“Oh, he definitely does, don’t get me wrong,” Ted said, before he stood up from the bench. “But, I bet he wouldn’t be opposed to you keeping him company for a little while.”

As Ted strolled back to the manager’s office, you got up yourself. You breathed deeply a few times, before you slowly crossed the hall to the treatment room. The lights were off, but the large bin for ice-baths was set up inside, with the glare from the TV screen on lightening it. Through the window, you spotted Roy’s eyes just over the lip of the bin, and you gently entered through the door.

He didn’t say anything as you pulled up a stool and sat next to him. Only after a moment did he stir, and sit himself up so his head poked out of the ice cold water. You both sat and watched the TV for a bit, as a broadcaster whittled on about Richmond’s latest match.

You winced when they mentioned Roy’s fuck up. Pundits on screen discussed his plays, and his losses. You hated how they were talking in past tense– Roy was, instead of Roy is. It made you angry enough to grab the remote quickly and turn off the screen, before you dropped yourself back onto the stool next to him.

Gently, he turned his head towards you. You stayed frozen, not wanting to meet his eye just yet, because you didn’t want him to gauge your expression. As much as it annoyed you, Roy’s ability to read your face like a fucking book was also a sign of something more. It started after the night of the charity ball, when he’d calmed you down in your kitchen, and had only grown since then. As much as that invisible wall still stood between you, even after you made up from your fight, you knew he’d still be able to know everything about you in a single stare.

Roy flicked his eyes over your profile. You felt every hair on your body stand up,

“Just tell me to fuck off, if you want,” you said, breathing out deeply.

“Okay,” Roy said plainly. You thought that meant yes.

You turned to him and caught his eye bluntly. “Go on, then.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off,” he said, furrowing his brows at you questioningly. “Do you want me to tell you to fuck off?”

You huffed in frustration. “No,” you said. You didn’t know how to tread this, didn’t know what to say. Maybe the guys thought you were good, empathetic, a great listener, but when it came to Roy you didn’t know what you could say to make it better.

Probably nothing, which was what you struggled with.

“Okay, then,” he said, before he turned back to the blank screen.

You both stared at it together, sitting in each other’s silence with an understanding that floated through the air. You didn’t want to bring it up, and Roy knew that. He also didn’t want to bring it up, which you were perfectly fine with. So instead, you simply sat, and you said nothing. The air felt warm despite the ice cubes floating in Roy’s ice bath, or maybe it was just you.

You hadn’t been alone like this since he’d shown up at your apartment, and after something as severe as his last game, you were under even more pressure to say and do the right thing.

“What are you thinking about?” Roy croaked out gently.

You sighed. “Everyone’s been asking me that today,” you let out.

Roy shuffled in the ice bath, hoisting himself up so he could drape his bare arms over the back of the bin. “What did you tell em?”

You met his eye finally, and shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I have no fucking idea what I’m thinking about.”

“All the time?” Roy asked, and you ignored the way his gaze flicked up and down your face, just for a second.

You huffed gently. “All the time.”

“Ask me what I’m thinking about,” he said.

You flicked your gaze over his stoic face, only now, it didn’t look so stoic. It looked raw, emotional, and soft. All the things you knew that Roy Kent wasn’t on the outside, but what he’d been like to you after that night.

“What are you thinking about, Roy?” you whispered, and his lips upturned into the smallest and most imperceptible of smiles.

“I’m thinking about how much that fucking shirt suits you,” he said, referring to the Richmond shirt that you wore. “It suits you more than it’s ever suited me.”

You turned away quickly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Oh, fuck off,” you breathed out, trying to hide how flustered you were.

“I mean it,” he said gently, and you allowed yourself to peer back at him. “It’s going to be strange without you here.”

You’d been counting down the days. Only six remained until your final Friday working in that office, next to the gym, with the guys laughter, and tears, and hurt, and pain, and all the rest.

“I’m going to miss it,” you let out, and your voice almost cracked.

Gently, Roy hoisted an arm out of the ice bath and reached towards you. Gently, he prodded a careful finger onto one of your warm cheeks, just for a second, hardly felt by you apart from the immense cold that rushed over every inch of your body. A shiver of him.

“Me too,” he said with a finality, before he retracted his arm.

The two of you looked back at the blank screen before you, sat in darkness, hearing the soft huffs of your breathing as the room stayed stuck in time.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @royalestrellas​ @weakmoony-stuff​ @ironmanmagnetfridge​ @lemonpiegurll​ @hellomagicalsouls​ @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @djarindroid​ @afraidofshrimp​ @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses​ @sogoodtoheritsvicious​ @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke​ @onceuponaoneshot​ @jamieolivia27​ @dadbodfanatic-x​ @kelp-dreaming​ @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist​ @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming​ @toomany24s​ @kashee-h​ @infinetlyforgotten​ @secretnook​ @cluelesslilsharkie​ @callmecasey81​ @deepdarkvelvet​ @twiceinabluemoon​ @cardeegans​ @golden-hoax​ @kingleahhh​ @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6​ @ellouisa17​ @thesestrangerslikeme​

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Something Sweet; Chapter 3

Kendall Roy x Reader

a/n: read the prologue here, chapter 1 here, and chapter 2 here! as per, please enjoy and leave your thoughts x

anyone sick of this picture of jermey strong yet? i’m not

Word Count: 2,203

Over the next week, Kendall drops by the bakery every day. He comes in, heckles you while you work, and then makes you take a break to give you lunch. You don’t know why he brings you food- he’s literally visiting you at YOUR bakery -but he does.

Every Sunday, you’re closed- it’s the only day you can get away with taking off. Even though you’re not open, you’re working anyway, doing a run through of the menu that Marcia sent over.

Groggy and mad at yourself for getting up so early, you sit in the walk in freezer for a moment before getting started. Marcia’s requested all sorts of things- tarts, cheesecakes, pies, cookies, brownies. It’s a ridiculous amount for you to make yourself, but you’ve done more in less time.

As you’re whisking together a batter for a carrot cake, your phone rings. You wipe your hand on your apron and pick up the call.

“Open the door,” Kendall says flatly.

“What happened to ‘Hello, Y/N, how are you’?” You go back to whisking.

“Hello, Y/N, I know you’re having a fantastic time in there. Now let me in, please.”

“We’re closed. Sorry, you’ll have to come back later.”

“Are you always cranky in the morning?”

“Just this one.”

“I have to go to work soon. I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Hold on.” You hang up on him then make your way to the front to let him in.

“Thanks.” Kendall’s nose is tinted pink from the cold. “What’re you covered in flour for?”

“Carrot cake.”

“How’d you get it on your face?”

“Who’s the professional baker here, me or you?” He follows you back to your workspace and doesn’t respond. “I thought so.” You spray the pan you plan on using with oil and look at him over your shoulder. “Not that I don’t love your company, but why are you here so early?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

You snort.

“I wanted to ask if I could help with anything,” he amends, adjusting his scarf. “Can I? Later?”

Kendall watches as you pour the batter into the pan. “You? Do work in a kitchen?” you tease.

“I want to help.”

“I’m going to be doing this all day, so probably. You’ll be on oven duty. I’m paranoid of burning myself.”

“Promise to let me in next time? Before I get hypothermia, preferably?”

And you do. He comes back at 5:30 with two paper cups of hot chocolate.

“Kendall, do you just forget that I own a bakery?”

“I like bringing you things.”

You take the cup and take a sip. “Well, don’t stop.” You drag the back of your hand over your eyes. “There’s a tray of cookies and a pie crust baking. We can start on a cake together.”

“Y/N, you should take a break.” He watches as you repeatedly try to untie your apron and fail. “How long have you been doing this for?” He approaches you absentmindedly, single-handedly untying the knot that kept your apron up and pulled it over your head.

“Since you left this morning.” You sigh. You knew you weren’t pacing yourself correctly, or at all, really. But this was important to you.

After shucking off his coat and dropping his scarf on a table somewhere, Kendall returns with a barstool and sets it by your counter in the back. “Sit.”

You clutch your apron in your hand. “But I still-”

“I’ll do it. Sit down, please. You’re stressing yourself out.”

Sighing, you drop yourself into the stool. Kendall gives you a hesitant pat on the shoulder before the oven timer goes off.

“Don’t you dare,” is all he says before finding a stray towel to take out what’s in the oven and set them on the counter to cool.

“Wanna try a cookie?” you ask him, gesturing to the tray. “They’re always better hot.”

Before he does, he drags another stool up next to yours and hands you a cookie. He sits down with one of his own held in a napkin. “Cheers.”

Out of all the sweets you bake, cookies are both the easiest and one of your comforts. This batch is no different. The chocolate melts on your tongue, and the cookie itself is soft and sweet and you wonder why you don’t make these for yourself every day.

“Y/N, you’re going to make me fat.” Kendall all but inhaled his cookie. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You give a little smile, feeling your face heat. “That means a lot to me.”

He gives your knee a nudge. “What’re you doing here in New York? Why aren’t you in France or some other Michelin country?”

You shrug. You don’t really know, yourself. “I dunno. I guess I don’t really like the idea of being a private chef or some jackass in a restaurant that serves dollops of cream and calls it classy.” You meet his gaze. “I like the idea that good food brings good times, so that’s what I try to do. For everyone. Besides, I have the most control over my life if I own my own shit and don’t have to work and break my back for some creep fifty years out of culinary school.”

“That’s noble. Much better than what I do, anyway.”

“What do you do? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t really want to know.”

Kendal scoffs. “I don’t really think I know what I do, either.”

“Well, do you like it?”

“Not really.”

“Then why do it?”

He abruptly stands. “What was that you were saying about cake?”

You frown, miffed at the obvious pivot in conversation, but you decide not to say anything. You clearly hit a nerve.

“Would you mind getting a fresh bag of sugar from the pantry?”

He obeys, setting it next to you on the counter. You toss him a spare apron, hooking yours over your head. “Wouldn’t want your fancy clothes to get dirty.”

“Do I have to?”

“You’re not going to die, Kendall. The paparazzi isn’t secretly in the oven hood waiting for you to look like a blue-collar man.” You tuck a clean towel into the waistband of your pants, letting one end hang out.

After you both wash your hands, you find a bowl to mix your dry ingredients in and hand it to Kendall. “The ingredient measurements are on a sticky note on the cabinet above your head,” you tell him, pulling out another bowl for wet ingredients.

“What’s a ‘wee bit of salt’ supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t think it could get simpler than that.”

“Y/N, how the fuck do you make anything edible like this?”

“Just listen to the sticky note, Kendall.” You crack a few eggs into your bowl, throwing him a glare. “Baking is about heart, not numbers.”

“Cheesy,” he mutters.

“You’re in my kitchen, Kendall. Have some respect,” you tease.

“I will if this thing doesn’t end up hot garbage.” He slowly fills the dry bowl, making sure to follow the instructions scrawled on one of the many sticky notes you pasted on the row of cabinets above you.

“You don’t have faith in me?”

“I have faith in you, not me, and last time I checked, this was a team thing.”

You whisk together the eggs and the buttermilk, oil, and vanilla you added while Kendall was whining.

“You’re good at this. This is like your sixth sense- it’s your thing. I feel like I’m making a bomb.”

You roll your eyes. “Quit being a drama queen and dump your bowl into mine. You get to whisk while I find something to make frosting with.”

“How benevolent of you, Your Majesty,” he says flatly. “Do we need to take a trip to the store?”

“No, it’s fine. We can just use bought frosting. I’m too lazy.”

You toss him a whisk, and he fumbles before sloppily catching it. “Don’t standalone mixers exist now? Or are we living in the twentieth century?”

“What fun would it be if I didn’t make you put elbow grease into it?”

Once the cake is out of the oven and you’ve lathered it in frosting, you scoop out more premade frosting in a different color into a piping bag. “This is the fun part,” you tell Kendall.

“Maybe you should do it, then.”

“No, you have to! It’s your first cake.”

“Um, if I have to.” He takes the piping bag from you. “What do I…?”

“Do whatever feels right. It doesn’t have to be fancy or anything. This cake’s for us.”

“Okay. Don’t look.” Kendall stares at you until you’ve averted your eyes. You look at him instead. He’s gripping the bag way too hard, his knuckles turning white. His tongue pokes out of his mouth, his focus unwavering. “Quit staring,” is all he says for several moments.

You snort, lean back against the counter, and stare down at your feet. A few more moments pass, and he sets down the bag and stares at the cake for a moment.

“I don’t think I want you to look.”

“What? Why not?” You begin to turn, but he gently nudges you aside so that he’s in between you and the cake. “Kendall!”

“Okay. Listen.” He looks up at you. “I don’t actually think your head is that big. I just ran out of space.”

When he doesn’t move, you brace your hands against his torso and rise onto your toes to peek over his shoulder. Once you catch a glimpse of the cake, you burst into laughter.

“Y/N!”

“It’s beautiful!”

It’s a stick-figure drawing of the two of you. Your head is lumpy and misshapen, neither of you have hair, and Kendall’s cross eyed. The frosting came out inconsistently, some lines thicker than others because of his death grip on the piping bag.

You nudge him aside and use your phone to take a picture of his work of art.

“Let’s not talk about this again, okay?”

“I think it’s great. Should be in the Louvre.”

You’re both standing with your sides flush against each other, making it easy for him to bump your shoulder with his. “I look like I eat glue.” He gestures towards frosting-Kendall.

“At least you don’t look like your brain is about to leak out of your ear.”

You both laugh loudly, the noise echoing through the kitchen. It’s a few hours after dark, and your eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of their sockets.

Kendall helps you put the various assortment of sweets you’d made during the day into the freezer so you can reheat them and sell them tomorrow.

Somehow, you both end up sitting on the floor talking about nothing and everything. Conversation goes from whether you’re both cat or dog people to a game of never have I ever. You sit there for a couple of hours, until Kendall glances at his watch and quietly says that he should go.

He helps you to your feet, taking both of your hands. “My place next time, since I wrecked yours?” he asks, gesturing around you at the kitchen. “I have a bunch of old movies on CD. I’ve been meaning to take a day off, and… it’d be nice if you were there.”

“Tell me when you get that day off.”

You smile up at him, and he just stares straight back at you, a tired longing etching the lines of his eyes.

He leans down towards you, stopping when your lips are barely touching. You don’t move, hoping he does something. Anything.

Instead of bridging the gap between your mouths, he pulls away and disappears into the dark street, calling a soft ‘goodbye’ over his shoulder.

You stand there, dumbfounded. He clearly likes you, you think, but there are some moments you share with him that make you think the opposite.

You think back to when you kissed him on your porch. That’s all it was, really- you awkwardly pecking him on the lips while he stood there ramrod straight- then leaving.

Those couple of moments give you a queasy feeling.

You decide to stuff it away and instead shut down all the machinery and lights in your bakery. Kendall, at some point during your conversation on the floor, had insisted he cleaned while you sat there and continued to speak to each other. You could just go straight to bed after your nightly routine.

As you’re brushing your teeth, your phone pings with a message. It’s Marcia. You’d given her your number before leaving that day.

Y/N,

I hope all preparations for Christmas are going according to plan. I’d like to invite you to tea a few days from now. Please, allow me to treat you for your hard work.

Regards,

Marcia

You stare at the screen. Inviting the pastry chef to tea? Was this normal in the upper tax brackets? You wouldn’t know- you’d never been a millionaire before.

It made sense that she sent text messages like they were emails, though.

You send her a polite text message back, accepting and thanking her for the invitation.

No matter how much you try to convince yourself that Marcia is just a kind employer, you just won’t stop worrying that she’s not.

[amelikos]

Thoughts about Roy.

Mostly random stray thoughts about Roy I'm writing before the next episode (HZ062) airs. These are just speculations and they could turn out wrong. I'm just writing them down because I want to remember what I thought about.

Anyway, given Liko and Roy's small exchange in the preview for HZ062 ("What made you like singing in the first place?" "Well..."), I feel like this could be an opportunity to bring up Roy's family. It doesn't have to be shown or talked about in depth, but Liko's question pertains to Roy's past so this could be a unique opportunity to show something? I mentioned here yesterday that maybe singing is meant to be one of the few connections Roy has left with his family.

I am imagining that they could go about it a few different ways depending on Roy's character, or what they want to show through him..

Maybe Roy's parents were around during his childhood and suddenly passed away for some reason and his grandfather ended up being his only relative left. Maybe Roy's parents are working outside the island and left him with his grandfather because their jobs might be demanding and they wanted Roy to have company (writing this makes me think of Gou in JN, who was often alone during his childhood because his parents were working and his grandmother took care of him when this happened sometimes.. a more modern kind of writing for these characters). Or maybe Roy's parents aren't supposed to be brought up at all in the narrative because that's not what his story is about.

The last one makes me think about how Roy's story feels like a traditional male protagonist going on a journey type of narrative. Sometimes for these protagonists, their parents, or more specifically the father, aren't mentioned because the boy has to emancipate himself while on a journey (or "surpassing the father" can be an approach to it as well) etc... Lots of male protagonists like that exist. But Horizons is more of a shoujo narrative (and not a male-centered one), so it's a bit different. Roy is the secondary protagonist (Horizons being a dual-protagonist story, with Liko being the primary protagonist), and we know about Liko and Dot's families, so I can't help but be curious about Roy's family. We do know about his grandfather, but I'm a bit curious about his parents. Unless, again, Roy's story follows the pattern of not bringing up the parents because that's not what it is about. Though I'll argue against it by saying that Horizons brings up legacies and lineages / past / future a lot, so I think it wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume that Roy's parents might be brought up in any capacity in the future. Again, it doesn't have to be a deep exploration of it or a huge baggage (other characters cover that in the narrative already, such as Amethio), but it could help recontextualize things a bit and give us a new perspective on Roy. I also want to bring up that listing the first two possibilities they could explore for Roy's family made me think of some YGO protags. I remember a character whose parents passed away when he was a kid and he ended up being raised by his grandparents. I also remember another one who hid his sadness over his parents disappearing (they turned out to be alive in the end btw) under a cheerful exterior and took on some his parents' hobbies (in a way) to feel close to them. So it's not unheard of, and Roy, to me, feels like a traditional male protagonist so they could explore that.

Also thinking about how they revealed more about Amethio's family during this chapter (confirmed that Gibeon is his grandfather and that his father exists in some capacity and has an influence on him), so it could be fitting to reveal more about Roy's background in this chapter too. Roy and Amethio are linked after all. In a way, they are exploring very different aspects of male characters' journeys through their respective stories.

As for the reason it wouldn't have been brought up until now is simply because Roy isn't the type to bring up the past too much. I can't see him volunteering information by his own initiative unless asked. He is focused on the future and rarely mentions the past (the few times he did really stood out to me, like when he said he used to play with Lapras on his island back in HZ031, or when he casually mentioned his grandfather sometimes hurting his back in HZ043). Even when you're friends with someone, it doesn't mean you'll talk about everything umprompted. Dot had to be in a specific situation to reveal more about her past to Liko and Roy in HZ041, etc. (Hell, even Friede had to be pushed a bit so he would talk about his meeting with Cap in HZ018.)

These are my thoughts for now. Ending this post by saying that Liko, Roy, Dot and Amethio all explore different facets of younger characters going on a journey to find themselves and different relationships towards their families.

[angstigone]

hitting you back with YOUR question, how does the librarian’s house look right now? is there a hierarchy? who gets along and who doesn’t? what’s an average day like in house angsti? 🎤

alrightie, alrightie, I should have expected for this to bite me in the ass.

currently the librarian's house is a mess because it's either my period or depression but...

... keeping order is aki; as the older brother, he's always making sure that I don't flip out and will sternly chastise against my procrastination and lovingly hold my head while he explains to me why it isn't a good idea to go live in the woods ("angsti, you have literally no practical sense and can't live without a bidet") (he's right, he's right).

unexpectedly nagumo is his righthand man (begrudgingly); they strangely - and much to my confusion - get along and once kkami mentioned it's because they are older/younger sibling coded and I can see it. they tease each other and nagumo might have tried to poison him once, but they strangely enough are very good.

(they fight - jokingly - though about who owns my ass).

and pulling the strings we have jason tood; my original fictional crush. I have been in love with his man since I was 18 and he knows; he might let aki and nagumo play out while he suntans and reads on the border of the swimming pool - yeah we have a swimming pool - but he run the show. he calms aki when he gets frustrated with me and tells nagumo to chill out when I mention somebody else.

then we have.. the strays: kaiser and oikawa. I try to keep them separated, the divas, but they always somehow end up at each other's throats and, ngl, unless aki or souya are in the vicinities, they will be fighting (nagumo once tried to get each other off by either a whistle or a red card; it didn't work).

I love them, I don't see them often, the few times that I see them, I genuinely also feel the need to throw my hands at them (lovingly).

who isn't getting acclimated is kazutora, although that might be in part my fault; he had to be on lifeguard watch (aki and nagumo in the most obnoxious speedo, for which I thank God daily) when I introduced mikey. he literally had to be stopped so many times from jumping in the water with a toaster (baby pls quit being dramatic, I stg). though, he does cuddle very nicely and has snuck into my bed a few times, just to find big problem#2 already there.

now, obviously big problem #2 is mikey; he's having the time of his life. gets to sleep on my boobs, eat whatever he wants, kicks the others' asses when he gets bothered (aki though had a very stern lecture with him, while nagumo cheered him on).

souya, instead, is my baby; he follows aki like a little duckling (big brother plus younger brother dynamics) and is genuinely helpful; breaks up apart fights and applies the bandaids (and I apply hickeys onto him). has deifnitely a permanent "cuddled nicely" on the fridge.

for rindou... well, for rindou we had to install some new rules, and soundproof rooms, which might make you think we like getting down and dirty, but no... it's because we can't stand his djsets. now allmy faves might fight onto something but (1) thing that they agree onto is that this man has no idea of volume.

also has been on lifeguard watch because he almost pulled a kendall roy in the finale of season three in the pool, and then we had a discussion about his 'problem'. he gets me on the weekends when I think I can handle the crazy life (I can't) (I hate it) (but I love him).

with sanzu... we don't know where he is half of the time, ngl. he somehow still knows what's going. I have this inkling he might have installed camera as if I am not a full on exhibitionist with little to no shame and will change in front of windows because idgaf.

so, ahem these are the most popular inhabitants. my ocs get a whole resort aside because of all the shit i put them through and both denji and chifuyu get one as well, called *therapy* (my blonde sons)

[hughiecampbelle]

Being Connors Favorite Sibling Would Include:

Requested: could I request something with Connor and Roy!sibling? headcanons, a fic, literally anything I'm in love with their relationship and how much they love each other. I think a little sibling that loves Connor the way he deserves would be so good for him - anon

A/N: I love Big Brother Connor!!! He deserves the world 💞 Thank you for requesting my love! Hope you like it!! Feedback is always appreciated!!!! 💜

Connor was ecstatic the day you were born. He thought he was done being a big brother, that his job was kinda done. Ken, Rome, and Shiv were grown up, they didn't think they'd need him anymore. Little did he know that you would be the closest to him out of everyone, that you would need him the most

Being a big brother is his favorite job in the world. He wasn't sure what being loved, really loved, felt like until Kendall was born. From the minute he could crawl, he followed Connor wherever he wanted. So did Roman. And when Shiv was born, he couldn't believe it. He'd always wanted a sister and now he had one. She was absolutely perfect

But you? You were his everything. Neither your mother or your father were all that interested, so the responsibility fell on him, not that he would ever complain. He loved it, even when you spit up on him. The other three were grossed out, hating to change diapers and getting annoyed with your crying, but he was more than happy to calm you down, sit with you, rock you back and forth, etc.

Your first words were his name, too, which almost killed him. Seriously, he still brings it up, he's so proud

He loved watching you grow into a toddler. You were a lot more fun. You could walk and talk and play. You loved when he got on the floor with you and played with you. He even dressed up with you when he wanted to play pretend, though mostly he was too tall for the costumes, so he made do with the hats and accessories instead

"Connor?"

"Yes y/n?"

"Why is the sky blue?"

"That's a good question. . ."

He takes you to preschool every day and tries to be there at pickup as much as he can. He loves to hear about your day, what you learned, who you talked to, what you played with, the snacks you ate, etc. He only gets more interested the older you get, when you learn about the planets and dinosaurs and you read all these interesting books. When school started, he was sad to see you go. You'd been his little buddy and suddenly you were all grown up

Every presentation, award, musical, play, game, show, everything he showed up for, front row with his phone out recording, cheering the loudest

He takes you camping, to the park and the movies, wherever you want to go. He thinks it's good for you to get out of the city

"Why doesn't dad ever come with us?"

"Pops is a very busy man. . ."

Connor is constantly sticking up Logan despite the fact that he's never really shown an ounce of love or attention towards either of you. He wants to protect you from that unloved feeling. He needs to, like he has with your siblings

No matter how small it seemed to you, it meant the world to him. Eventually you stopped inviting your mother and father, going straight to him. He'd tell the president to fuck off if it meant he got to spend a second more with you

He helped you with homework, staying up late at the kitchen table going over the same math problem again and again. He never got mad or frustrated, though. He'd take as long as you needed

You could do no wrong in his eyes. When you fought with Ken, when you argued with Shiv, when you pushed Rome, none of it was your fault. None of them could stand it

When you cried he was the first person you went to. When you got your heart broken for the first time, when you wondered why your parents even had you if they were never around, when you had nightmares as a child and when your worst fears came true, you cried to him

The older you got, the more distance you put between you and him. Kids strayed from their parents once they became teenagers, that's just how it worked. Still, he felt unprepared for the days when you wouldn't need him so much

He taught you how to drive and study with you before your test. You weren't very good, but you had no idea. He was ecstatic when you parallel parked the first time. He made you feel proud, even if at first it felt silly

He was there when you walked across the stage for your diploma for both high school and college, cheering the loudest. He made a rule that you'd call him once a week in college and you never missed it, not even once. You'd tell him about your friends, the parties you went to, to the people you were seeing. He wanted to hear everything

Everything you've accomplished, he couldn't be prouder

You go to his ranch as much as you can, enjoying the distance between you and your father. The older you get, the more you realize how he was never in your life and how much Connor was. It makes you sad, thinking he had to step up, take responsibility for his baby sibling. He is adamant that raising you was a pleasure, the best thing he's ever done

He has pictures of you everywhere. Of the others too, but mostly of you. You can't help but find them embarrassing

"I look like an idiot."

"You were adorable." He looks at them every single day, proud as ever

He visits you in the office, taking you out for lunch when he's in the city. He's the only one who doesn't work for your father, but he likes hearing about it from you. He can't believe how grown up you are, how adult you've suddenly gotten. It seems like just yesterday they brought you home. Now you had meetings and deadlines and your own interns to boss around

"Look at you, all grown up. I can't believe it!"

He's the first person you call when anything happens. When Kendall's gone manic, when Dad hits Rome, when Shiv seems off, when you're getting a promotion, a first date, anything and everything. He's always there to offer advice on how to handle the situation. He's been dealing with them far longer than you have

You show him how to use social media so he can see the pictures you post, not wanting to miss out on anything. There are lots of pictures of you and him together

"Who's that?"

"I'm kinda seeing them."

"That's wonderful! When do I get to meet them?"

Forget your mother and father, it's Connor you're worried about when you're seeing someone. They're never good enough for you. He quizzes them on everything, bordering on an interrogation. In the end, no matter what he thinks of them, he's happy you've found someone that makes you happy

You and him go on double dates with your partner and Willa, who adores you. She lovingly calls you Connors Baby. She's glad someone else loves him like he should be, instead of being used and ignored and neglected like the rest do

You're one of the most well-rounded, healthy, adjusted Roys to come out of the family, or as close as you can get, because of him

He always sits by you at family dinners and vacations, between you and Logan, hoping he can be the target for his anger if need be

When you drink too much he takes care of you, especially at weddings, and always saves a dance for you at the end of the night

"Thank you, Con."

"For what?"

"For everything."

You care very little for your father, but when he dies Connor is right there offering comfort. You were never close to him. You never got the chance to build a relationship with him, no matter how warped, like the others. Connor was your dad, you thought so for the longest time when you were little, your fathers day cards addressed to him instead of Logan. You're sad for your siblings who loved him despite it all

You're the only one to attend Connors wedding, cheering and clapping when they kiss. You wouldn't have missed it for anything

Connor has spent your entire life protecting you and for that, you will always be grateful. It's something you can never repay

[allsassnoclass]

for the cuddle prompts.... “My personal space isn’t shared with just anyone.” with mashton mayhaps? 👀

Teresa I adore you. I hope you like this.

mashton: "My personal space isn't shared with just anyone."

Michael is on popcorn duty, which is arguably the best movie-night job. He gets to choose whether they go with Luke's favorite brand or his, plus he gets to pick the other snacks and make the chocolately popcorn mix that Calum likes so much, so really he gets to eat all the chocolate chips as well. Luke is on the door tonight, ready to greet each guest and tasked with monitoring his phone in case any of their friends have to bail or are running late, so Michael instead gets to stand alone in the kitchen, snacking on things and pushing buttons on the microwave and carefully monitoring how burnt the popcorn is getting.

They really should get a proper popcorn popper. They'd definitely get enough use out of it and they already need to buy kernels for Calum's snack, so they might as well go the extra step in turning their apartment into a movie theater every weekend so Michael doesn't have to watch the popcorn bags slowly inflate in the microwave, lulled by the circular motion of the turntable and the low hum of the machine.

"Hey," someone says, startling him out of his microwave-induced trance. "How's the popcorn coming?"

Ashton's hand brushes feather-light over his lower back as he leans close to Michael to peer into the microwave.

"Same as always," Michael says, too used to Ashton's brief moments of proximity to let something like this affect him anymore. "Nothing has burned yet. Extra salt and movie-theater butter are already downstairs."

"Nice," Ashton says, stepping back to open ​the fridge, letting out a few tendrils of cold air as he reaches for the cans of soda and bottles of Gatorade that Michael and Luke set aside for tonight.

"You're not going to be able to carry all those downstairs in one trip." Michael says.

"Watch me," Ashton replies, piling them into his arms precariously and kicking the fridge door shut behind him. He gives Michael a proud smile, looking entirely too cute for someone who is probably going to drop everything on the stairs and make a mess.

"If you drop a soda, give it to Calum!" Michael calls as he leaves. He can hear Ashton's laugh from down the hall, but makes a mental note to grab a sports drink when he gets downstairs, anyway. The last thing he needs is a soda exploding all over him because Ashton dropped it a few times and the carbonation didn't settle.

Luke comes in to check on the snacks as Michael is scraping the chocolate popcorn off the pan and into a bowl.

"Everyone's here," he says breathlessly, pushing some stray curls out of his face. "Are we ready? It's past eight. I don't want them getting restless."

"Luke, we've done this before," Michael says, passing him a bag of chips, a pile of napkins, and one of the bowls of popcorn to carry. "Our friends aren't going to leave just because the movie didn't start exactly at eight o'clock. People loves our movie nights."

"Right. Okay." Luke nods once. "Wait, where are the cookies?"

"Right here," Michael says, picking up the tray and balancing it on top of another bowl of popcorn. "Everyone is going to love them."

Luke nods again and takes a deep breath. He typically doesn't try to actually bake for movie nights, but he decided that October is going to be a big deal this year and Luke has been working on his skills in the kitchen for a while. If anyone makes jokes about him poisoning them tonight Michael is going to pitch a fit.

All of their friends cheer when they enter the basement, which Michael is going to take as them being excited to see him rather than hungry for the snacks, despite the way everyone flocks to take the food out of their hands. Sierra immediately bites into a cookie and gushes about how good it is while Roy takes the chocolate popcorn and tries to hold it out of Calum's reach. He can't see if they spill anything because Crystal and Bennet are reaching across him for some chips, but by the time everyone has settled again Michael is genuinely surprised that there are no kernels in their carpet yet.

"Welcome to the Second Annual Muke Halloween Movie Marathon!" Luke announces. Everyone claps and cheers obnoxiously and Luke explains what movies they'll be watching tonight. He made a schedule for all of the weekends in October to ensure they're going to hit a good collection of horror and lighter Halloween titles and tonight it's going to be Hocus Pocus and Friday the 13th. Michael puts in the first disc in and hits the lights.

Of course, being the last person down here means he's the last person to find a seat, which means that there aren't any good ones left. Their basement isn't huge by any means, so there's limited seating, especially compared to the amount of people crammed into the space. Four people are already squished onto the couch with Luke laying over their laps, a few other friends are sitting on pillows on the floor, and Ashton has taken the big armchair in the corner, sinking deeply into the cushions. Michael stands by the light switch and tries to find a place for himself amongst the crowd.

"Michael," Ashton calls softly, beckoning him over. Michael crosses behind the couch and leans down, thinking Ashton is going to ask for some snacks or maybe point out where the remote has gone, but instead he scoots over in the chair and pats the miniscule space next to him.

"We can share," he says.

"Ashton, the chair isn't made for two people."

It may be larger than the average armchair, but that doesn't make it a couch. That doesn't even make it a loveseat.

"Sierra and Kaykay have done it before."

"They're also half our size."

Ashton's looking at Michael with a particular type of earnestness that's already making his resolve crumble. He's not pouting, because Luke is the only one who is truly successful when it comes to that so the rest of them don't even try anymore, but he's close, and it shouldn't be as endearing as it is coming from a grown man in the middle of Michael's basement.

"There's no where else for you to sit," Ashton says. "Come on. You can sit on my lap if you have to. We can make it work."

Michael sighs and sits down.

They end up shifting so Michael is sitting sideways, back against one armrest and legs thrown over the other. His butt is mostly on the chair that way, but Ashton keeps one arm on the armrest behind him and the other draped over his legs. After a moment of hesitation, Michael leans into him a little, resting his head against Ashton's shoulder, close enough to Ashton's neck that he's worried he's going to be pushed off.

"Is this okay?" he whispers. Luke must've found the remote, because the movie is playing already, names appearing across the scene to bright orchestral music.

"Yeah, of course," Ashton says, shifting his hand to around Michael's waist, holding him more securely. "Are you comfortable?"

Michael nods, not trusting his voice, and tries to pay attention to the movie. It's difficult when he physically feels it every time Ashton shifts, whether it's to reach for the popcorn piled on a napkin on the side table (which he offers to Michael, of course), cross and uncross his ankles, or adjust his grip on Michael's shin, swiping a thumb over it that Michael feels through his sweatpants.

He lasts for half of the movie before he feels like he's going to burst. Ashton isn't exactly a cuddler. Luke's primary love language is physical touch, as seen by him literally laying on four people at this exact moment, but Ashton would never do that. Ashton will sit close to people and throw an arm around them if it's more comfortable, but he never invites them to sit on him like Calum sometimes will, and he doesn't typically cuddle during movie nights like Michael tries to.

There's no way around it though. Cuddling is exactly what is happening right now. More than that, Ashton initiated it and seems to be actively enjoying it. He could move his arms so Michael is less bracketed in. He could stop offering snacks so Michael has to shift and get them himself. He could easily adjust so there's more space between them, but he's not doing that. He's doing the opposite. It's making Michael's heart pound.

"Are you sure this is okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Ashton whispers back, looking down at him. Michael shrugs.

"You don't really cuddle at these."

"Well, my personal space isn’t shared with just anyone.”

Michael forgets to breathe as he turns that sentence over his mind.

"Oh?" is the response he ends up going with, because he has no fucking clue what else to say. His heart isn't just pounding now; it's racing as well.

"Yeah," Ashton says. "You're pretty special to me, Mike. I'm surprised you haven't caught on yet."

Ashton shifts again. Michael lifts his head up to allow them both to get into a more comfortable position, catching Ashton's eyes as he does. Ashton lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile. No, an invitation. Michael isn't sure what it's an invitation for, but he wants to take it and discuss it more when the rest of their friends are gone.

He returns the smile and cuddles a little closer than before. Ashton tilts his head to rest it against Michael's, arms circling him securely, and Michael settles in to enjoy the next few hours in his personal space.

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Fucking Automobile" -Ted Lasso

This is an accompanying piece to 2 others in this series, but I consider it an AU of the first one. The subject matter is the same, but things go down differently. This one can be read on its own.

Part 1 // Part 2

WORDS: 3482

XXX

Roy Kent’s life is fucking incredible.

For one, he has a gorgeous, wonderful wife, with whom he has a fucking wonderful son, and if that weren’t enough, they’re expecting another baby in just a few short months. But, not only does Roy have a perfect fucking family that he loves, he also has one of the greatest fucking jobs in the world: coaching AFC Richmond (a career second only to being a footballer himself).

He’s headed to work early; Sam needs him for something before practice, and apparently, Roy loves this team enough to miss part of his morning with his wife and son.

It’s one of those days where he’s on autopilot, barely needing to pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s slowing for a traffic light when it turns green, and then there is a mass moving towards him, and he jerks the steering wheel, dread heavy in his chest.

All Roy knows is that he’s bracing himself, then there’s pain, then a hot flash striking his arms and face, then the world stills and he’s opening his eyes. There’s an airbag in his face and horrible pressure against his right side. He blinks, slowly, and tries to take a steadying breath. That doesn’t hurt, at least, and he looks around.

His door is bashed in, bent awkwardly into his body. He can hardly see around the airbag, but he can feel the metal against his leg- his fucking leg, as if it weren’t fucked up enough- and the other car is rammed into his own. Roy swears, loudly, and realizes that there are people starting to swarm around the wreck. He groans and curses again- he doesn't particularly fancy making the headlines with this one.

He gives one of the pedestrians a thumbs up, then fumbles around for his phone. There's no moving until the other car is gone, and even then, Roy's not sure he'd be able to climb out of his seat without collapsing. The phone rings once, twice; long enough that Roy can feel his hands shaking.

"Keeley," he says when she picks up.

"Roy," his wife answers, and she sounds startled.

"I'm okay," Roy says, staring down a bystander, who's unabashedly taking pictures of the scene. "Whatever you see, I'm okay."

"Okay," Keeley says, and there's an edge to her voice now. "What's-"

"I was in a car accident. I'm fine."

Keeley gasps; Roy wavers, suddenly regretting his bluntness. "Some wanker hit me from the side. Airbags went off but aside from being very pissed, I'm alright."

He hears Keeley breathe in and out deeply, and more anxiety bubbles in Roy's stomach. He feels hot, uncomfortably warm, and when he raises his free hand to his head, it comes away wet with blood.

"Are you sure you're alright, Roy? Did you call 999?"

"No," he mutters. "Though I'm sure someone else did." A beat, then:

"I think I fucked up my leg."

"Does it hurt?"

Roy looks down, tries to move his leg, and bites down hard on his tongue to keep from yelling. "A little."

"Okay." He can hear Keeley moving in the background, undoubtedly getting her keys. "Where are you?"

Roy peers through his cracked windshield and finds his vision is blurry. "I don't know," he whispers, and closes his eyes. "I was on my way to the pitch, but-"

"Right. I'm coming to find you."

"Wait," Roy warns. He can hear sirens approaching. "Worry about Oliver first. I'll meet you at the hospital, okay?"

"Okay." Keeley manages to sound businesslike. He knows she's trying not to reveal her worry, and that she knows he's downplaying the circumstances. "I'll see you there, then."

Roy waits for her to end the call. There's a few seconds of silence.

"You're okay, yeah?"

"Yes, Keeley," Roy promises. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," she whispers back. "Love you."

"Love you, sweetheart."

-

Keeley stands in her kitchen and releases the kind of profanity only Roy is usually capable of. Her purse and keys are already gathered in her hands, but there's just one thing she has to worry about first.

"Oliver, love, we're going-" She bites her tongue. She can waste precious minutes asking the neighbor to come and watch him; if that fails, she'll have to find someone to come over and that could take any amount of time.

"We're going to the hospital!" She declares, and her and Roy's little terror sprints into the room and cheers.

Keeley scoops him into her arms, feeling incredibly unbalanced, and makes her exit, grabbing the first pair of baby shoes she can find. She's sure she's missing something, but at least her toddler won't have bare feet.

She calls Ted and Rebecca on the way there; Ted to watch her son and Rebecca to watch her. It'll make them both late to work, she's sure, but there are few people she'd trust more to support her family.

As expected, both of her friends drop everything to help her. Ted sobers up the moment after Keeley says hello; the worry in her words must be painfully evident. In turn, Rebecca vows to be at the hospital in a time that guarantees some horribly reckless driving, which is terrible, given the circumstances, but Keeley knows Rebecca and her best friend bribing her driver isn’t Keeley’s greatest concern right now.

Unsurprisingly, Rebecca is waiting at the hospital for them, Ted at her side. He’s white in the face, which confirms Keeley’s suspicions about their ride over, but he scoops Oliver into his arms, asking how his day has been and if he’d like Special Texas Pancakes for lunch. Keeley offers Ted a wordless smile in thanks before Rebecca takes her inside.

“All I know is they’ve admitted him,” Rebecca says, glancing at the receptionist. “They wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Right, well, you can’t bribe hospital staff all too easy,” Keeley muses. She gives her name to the attendant, who, despite Rebecca’s glowering, tells them to wait, and they take a seat.

It’s only a few minutes before a nurse is pointed towards them. He smiles at them, which Keeley takes as a good sign, though she still clings to Rebecca’s hand during the whole of the conversation.

Roy is fine; he was brought in conscious, but with a severe leg injury and a probable concussion. The doctors aren’t terribly worried, but they have to act fast.

“We understand that Mr. Kent has a previous knee injury.” Keeley nods. “This complicates things. Preliminary tests suggest that there’s further damage to his knee. We still need to do an x-ray and an MRI, but it’s likely that he’ll need surgery.”

Keeley swallows, hard; the youngest Kent-Jones gives her bladder a kick, and she shifts uncomfortably.

“We’ll let you back as soon as we find a room for Mr. Kent.”

“I’d like to see him before any surgery,” Keeley asserts, but her voice is strained.

The nurse nods. “Of course, Ms. Jones.”

-

Soon translates to an hour, but Rebecca occupies Keeley, complaining about idiot businessmen and updates on her mum and anything else asinine that Rebecca can think of. Keeley’s leg shakes up and down, but her thoughts aren’t totally captivated by worry, and that’s good enough.

A different nurse takes her back to see Roy when it’s time, and they wind down a long series of identical hallways. The air is stale with sickness and nerves, and Keeley’s boots click on the linoleum of the otherwise silent hall. Then, they round a corner and the nurse pushes open a door, leading Keeley past curtained-off beds and finally, to Roy.

His eyes are closed. Bright red skin indicates the burn of a deployed airbag, and there are cuts on his face and arm. The hospital gown does him no favors, revealing his mangled leg and the mess of bandages covering his knee.

Tears well in Keeley’s eyes. It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen Roy, topping his last game with Richmond, his retirement conference, and his reaction to the birth of his first child. He’s pale, clearly in pain, but when his eyes open, they seize her up quickly.

She breathes out his name, moves to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair, and presses a kiss to the unmarred part of his forehead. His hand captures hers, gripping tightly.

“I fucked my knee,” he whispers, and Keeley nods.

“We’re gonna unfuck your knee,” she tells him, unsure of how much she means it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Roy nods, alert, but obviously tired. His voice was shaking on their call; it’s steady now, but Roy is stuck in a grimace, and he’s barely moving as he talks to her.

“What did they tell you?”

“Not a lot. What did they tell you?”

Roy eyes her suspiciously. “Fuck all. They did a hundred fucking tests and kept their damn mouths shut.”

“Okay. Let’s wait for the doctor, then.”

“Keeley-”

They know each other so well. She’s hard-pressed to get out of this one.

She can see the argument brewing in his mind- his lips are parted, his trademark scowl graces his lovely features, and she knows that he has every right to be frustrated.

“Well, you’re not gonna lose your leg,” she informs him, and Roy snorts. Keeley bites her lip. “I think.”

“It’s fucking useless anyway.” Roy rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking playing football with it.”

“Legs have other uses, you know,” Keeley points out, and Roy snorts again.

“Fuck that."

A smile is tugging at her lips, and Roy is about to mirror the expression despite everything fucking hurting when metal scapes against metal, and the curtains part to reveal a doctor, who smiles at them both. Roy scowls.

“You’re going to cut my fucking knee up.” He accuses, and the doctor nods.

“You tore several major ligaments and we need to prevent permanent nerve damage and limit the risk of blood clots.”

Roy’s scowl deepens, impossibly. “Fine.”

“Excellent. We’ll get prepped for emergency surgery.” She looks at Keeley and Roy, at how tightly they’re holding each other. “I’ll give you two a minute before we take you back.”

Keeley murmurs her thanks, and turns back to Roy.

“Right,” she says, brushing a stray curl off of his forehead. “You be good, and enjoy the hell out of those painkillers. I’ll see you soon.”

“Right,” Roy agrees, kissing the back of her hand. “Don’t eat shitty hospital food if you get hungry. Make Rebecca order you something fancy while you wait.” Roy’s brow creases. “Ted has Oliver, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah.”

“Fuck. Well, Ted can keep him when he has his massive fucking temper tantrum ‘cause of all the biscuits he’s eaten. And you fucking relax and don’t worry too much about me and my fucking knee, okay?”

“Okay.” Keeley bends to kiss him, and he smiles at her, not with his usual brilliance but something close, and that’s enough. She knows he’s in pain; she can read it in every line on his bruised face, but he’s being unflappable for her, and she can try and do the same. “I love you so much, Roy Kent.”

“I fucking love you, Keeley Jones,” he tells her. “And tell Ollie I love him too.”

“I will. He’s gonna cuddle the fuck out of you when we get home, you know that.”

“Damn right.”

-

Keeley stays with Roy until nurses come to take him into surgery. She watches them wheel her husband down the hall and through a forbidden set of double doors, and exhales.

She finds Rebecca quickly enough, who ensures they celebrate Roy’s prognosis and consciousness and retainment of his humor. Over and over, she repeats Roy’s words in her head: he’s going to be fine, and she shouldn’t worry too much.

Rebecca regales her with tales of the worst men she’s worked with; when that fails, they compare notes on baby names. They laugh and grin without light ever reaching their eyes and neither utter a word about it, but Rebecca confiscates Keeley’s phone when her Twitter mentions blow up. There are pictures of the accident, and of a bloodied Roy Kent being loaded in an ambulance, and Ted texts her to let her know that he’s brought Oliver inside where any nosy press won’t catch a glimpse of him. Her heart aches for her son, who would be distressed if he knew any better, and who likely won’t get to see much of his parents today. Ignorance is bliss, though, and Keeley thinks of Roy’s last smile to her, and not of his strained words when he called her, or the pictures of his totaled car online, or how fragile he looked in the hospital bed.

There’s a nagging at the back of her brain, though, of what would’ve happened if Roy couldn’t reach his phone, or if he left home a second sooner or a second later, or if she had gone with him, or if he had to drop Oliver off somewhere along the way, or if the other driver had been going a tiny bit faster or hit Roy at a slightly different angle. He’s lucky, after all, that it’s just his leg, that it’s not even broken, that their baby wasn’t in the backseat, that Roy will ultimately be fine after this, he’ll be fine, because he’s still so fucking young and his son is still a baby, really, and he hasn’t even met his second child yet.

Keeley takes a shaky breath, and Rebecca captures Keeley’s hand in both of her own. She rubs her thumb across the back of Keely’s hand, and the younger woman rests her head against Rebecca’s shoulder, and the two women stay like that for a long time.

-

It’s three hours before they get any word about Roy. Keeley thinks, really, that it should have been like, half an hour at most, but the nurse who talks to them says all good things, and that they’re almost done. Some of the damage is permanent, especially to Roy’s nerves, but the rest of him is fine. Walking normally will be the greatest challenge, and to Keeley, that’s a nominal problem given the rest of his prognosis.

Rebecca stews when they have to wait another couple of hours: first, the surgery has to wrap up, then Roy is brought to a recovery room to be monitored, then finally, finally, he’s moved to a private room where they can sit with him. The whole time, Rebecca lingers an inch away from total fury, but Keeley lets Rebecca be as angry as she likes, so that way, Keeley doesn’t have to be and all her energy can be focused on Roy.

It’s quieter when she sees Roy this time, more peaceful. Even Roy Kent doesn’t scowl in sleep, and despite the IV in his arm and the injuries peppering his skin, Roy appears at rest, genuinely so. Keeley waits, alone for the first time that day, for him to wake, and when he does, Roy only mumbles hi and offers a groggy smile before he’s out again. Keeley texts Rebecca and Ted an update, and that’s how her afternoon passes, her husband in and out of sleep, and not much else in the world mattering.

-

The next day is a flurry of doctors and physical therapists, and their three-year-old son navigating a hospital for the first time. Roy’s concussion means wearing sunglasses indoors, but Ted drops Oliver off with a matching pair for him and Keeley, and their first family picture after the accident is of them in the hospital, all wearing shades inside like a bunch of proper arseholes, Roy’s face impassive but Keeley and Oliver positively beaming at the camera. Roy learns how to navigate on crutches, as is the condition of his release, so he struggles his way up and down a short hallway, swearing all the while, his grouchy disposition only faltering when Oliver makes his opinion known about the matter (“Daddy has four legs!).

They’re sent home, donned in sunglasses and laden with crutches and high-grade painkillers, late that day, and Roy has to wonder if Rebecca’s paid off the press when he’s loaded from wheelchair to car without any twats snapping pictures of him at his worst. Later, he’ll confirm that she did, in fact, pay the tabloids to piss off, accompanying a press release along the same lines. He and Keeley are lucky to have such a friend, he knows, especially one that doesn’t believe in bullshit.

He’s absent at the next Richmond match and most of their practices the following week, in favor of sleeping frequently. Something wonderful about needing three fucking naps a day is that Oliver will nap with him, which gives Keely a much-needed break, and also there’s nothing fucking better than his baby asleep in his arms, because he loves his son so fucking much but sometimes it’s fucking nice when Oliver isn’t running around like a maniac, and Roy can just hold him.

Putting any weight on his leg is fucking hard. Showering is fucking impossible, bending down to pick up Oliver’s ridiculous toys is difficult, stairs are a fucking burden on humanity, and Roy is in so much fucking pain all the time. It gets better at a snail’s pace, and he manages to make it through a full day of work on an obscene amount of Tylenol and Ted literally cheering him on in the most annoying way possible. The only thing that pacifies him is Keeley coming in to kiss him at various intervals throughout the day, and he buries his head against her side and she runs her fingers through his hair, and their kid-on-the-way sometimes kicks against Keeley’s stomach, which never fails to be spectacular.

Roy masters crutches, even though the dumb fucking things make his armpits hurt, and a month after surgery, when Roy has endured physical therapy and public sympathy and a thousand fucking stairs, he begs his doctors to let him off them. And so, they introduce the next alternative that Roy will use for the rest of his fucking life.

A cane. Roy Kent, still fucking young, is fitted for a cane, which Ted immediately wants to decorate with lights and streamers and shit, and that Oliver tries to use as a fucking lightsaber and wack people with. It’s fucking terrible, but it’s also the first thing that makes Roy laugh after coming home from the doctor’s with his fancy new stick.

They told him and Keeley this, that first day in the hospital after the wreck. That he would never walk the same, that some of the nerves were too far gone. There’s nothing he can do, aside from physical therapy to build up some strength. It’s damning, and a hard pill to swallow, but Roy’s knee has been fucked since his last football match against Manchester, and he knows that. Keeley reminds him that his life is still pretty incredible, after all, and Roy has to agree.

His daughter is born shortly after, and Roy weeps when he figures out how to hold a cane in one hand and his precious baby in the other. Frequently, he looks like the corniest fucking dad ever, because it’s honestly easiest to carry Lily in a papoose, but Roy fucking Kent’s reputation holds up: he’s still the scariest motherfucker to ever grace the face of football. When he takes her to practice, though, he finds that this effect is somewhat diminished; he yells at one of the boys to tighten up, then his daughter gurgles, and Roy is caught gazing down at her with a dopey fucking smile on his face.

The first cane breaks when Richmond loses by a slim margin thanks to a few small mistakes. Roy is minutes into a post-match debrief when he punctuates what went wrong with the cane against the whiteboard, and the wood slams against metal and splinters into a hundred fucking pieces all across the locker room, footballers ducking for cover, Roy’s chest heaving as he surveys the scene. Then Ted sits Roy down, commends his incredible strength, and tells the team to goldfish their way through this, and that they’ll work through it during the next practice.

Oliver breaks the second cane. And the third. And then Roy concedes style to durability and gets a fucking metal cane that his kids aren’t allowed to touch.

His life is different, largely because he’s a father of two now, and stairs are fucking terrible and he hates them. But, aside from that, he’s still Roy Kent, Keeley Jones’ husband, parent to the two best fucking kids in the universe, football coach extraordinaire. That’s pretty fucking good, in his book, and in the end, there’s nothing fucking wrong with using a cane so long as Oliver doesn’t kill anyone with it.

[estellaelysian]

It burns (Ethan x MC)

A/N: This is super self indulgent and doesn’t lead anywhere so proceed on your own risk

**********

The alcohol scorched down his throat as he let his mind wander in the memories of the day, which seemed too distant now that it was over. Evening shaded into night beyond the red-brick walls of the bar – which were lined with numerous neon signs, the glow spilling onto nearby tables and people. Ethan chased the shadow of Alishka as his mind jumped from one moment to the next in all those where they had interacted with each other over the day. The image of her deep green eyes, wavy brown hair and full lips remained forever etched into his mind, giving him warmth like an eternal flame would.

It was late when he made it to this bar – Russo and Dale – but it was also when he found Boston the most loveable, shimmering in the glow of night, her streets thrumming with life and beating hearts and cheerfulness. He had taken an unnecessary walk from the hospital to his destination, wanting to feel anonymous in the dull crowd of people who were walking down the street. The permanence of the aged buildings, the restored Victorian row-houses surrounding English-style corners and the glowing yellow street lamps in South End seemed to give somewhat of a reassurance to his bruised and tired soul as he weaved his way among the sea of strangers. Walking wearily past dark shops, while the sky turned to a deep blue-black above him, he tried to find solace in the anonymity.

But now, at long last, when he found himself alone again, the unease returned, stronger than ever. He took a sip of the amber liquid, then another and then a third, but nothing seemed to ease him as he listened to the determined thud of a bass from the neighboring dive-bar. The foolish chatter around him did not drown out the rising voices inside his head – her voice and his, as they had argued in his office long into the afternoon.

That one argument had been enough to disrupt the entire balance he had built with the same woman whom he had disappointed today. But it was a mutual disappointment. She had been irrelevant to.

Shaking his head, he took another sip, letting the alcohol burn down his throat as he stared – quite intently – at the marble counter in front of him. It was amazing really, that the woman from whom he drew his strength could also be one of his greatest weaknesses. That was exactly why he had retired to his old office in the afternoon. He had lost focus, so instead of looking into patient care, he thought drowning himself into paperwork would help.

But indeed, it had not. Did it ever?

His mind, like a blissful dog scampering back to its lamppost, seemed to be stuck at the argument – making assumptions about the way she sounded, acted, spoke – no matter how much he tried to distract himself. Everything blurred around him, as if he had tuned out from his surroundings.

Why, he thought, was it so necessary for her to be insistent about things that did not matter to him? To latch onto one subject and stretch it until his patience snapped?

Or had he been truly unreasonable this time?

Oh dear God…

He swirled the gleaming liquid in its glass slowly before taking another sip, intent on numbing his brain, only that it refused from being so. Over and over again, her voice tortured him from deep inside; calling him out on the stubborn asshole he was before fading, only to return for the millionth time.

But wasn’t that the point of tonight? To get as far away as he could from the hospital, go to a bar in South End, and let the alcohol ease his pain and anxiety.

The door opened and someone stepped in, bringing together a cool Boston breeze and faint traces of wildflowers. Though his senses seemed unnaturally sharpened at this point, his eyes remained glued to his glass. But just a few seconds later, he found the woman right beside him, the scent of wildflowers much more perceptible.

Green flashed in his mind, deep and comforting, as he connected the scent, almost instinctively, to the one person it reminded him of.

Hold yourself, Ramsey.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the woman flag down the bartender and order a rainbow colored cocktail before turning away for a moment or two.

‘Quite the pain-relief, isn’t it?’ she asked in a mellifluous, sweet voice which fell like honey onto his tongue.

He could swear it was Alishka’s voice, but maybe he had dived too deep into the alcohol pain-relief. He had started imagining things.

Sensing that she was probably still expecting an answer, he nodded before looking straight at her.

And almost immediately, thought of Alishka Roy, even though he had put up a boundary between him and those insistent, maddening thoughts.

He didn’t realize it at first, but that smile – he would recognize it anywhere, anytime, no matter how detached he was.

But Alishka?

Nonsense. He was losing his mind.

‘I should’ve guessed my boss would come here after the much-exhausting day he faced at work today. It would’ve atleast saved me the time I spent wandering about.’

He raised his eyes to her face again. This was not an illusion. She was real, he thought, as he glanced at her hot coral lips which now wore an amused smile. He was not dreaming.

But why would she feel the need to wander about for him?

Do you really need an answer for that, dimwit, his mind chided.

‘Ofcourse you’d follow me here too,’ he said bluntly, battling away the sweeter responses, raising the glass to his lips.

‘You are not my boss outside of work, Dr. Ramsey. It is my freewill to do as I want to once I step outside the hospital.’

He looked up at her again, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. ‘Says the woman who bothers me all the same, inside or out.’

She made a dismissive wave, an easy laughter leaving her. ‘You’ve got a horrid sense of humor,’ she said. ‘Perhaps that is why everyone is terrified of you, even now.’

The last two words stung with an unimaginable burn, questioning the character he had spent years to build.

‘What do you mean, “even now”?’ he asked, the words coming out much more defiant than he wanted them to.

She smiled a benevolent smile as the bartender dropped off her cocktail, which smelled strongly of Pernod. Raising the glass up to meet her lips with tantalizing slowness, she said, ‘Even now, when they’ve learned that you can love something, someone more than medicine. Wholeheartedly.’

He choked on his drink involuntarily, but she went on, as if she hadn’t heard him at all. ‘And yet, at the same time, you can manage to be incredibly bitter to that someone.’

She took a long gulp of her cocktail, and again, before he could respond to her grievances, she said, ‘But anyway, I am not here to discuss that.’

Play pretend, he thought.

‘And why exactly, is it that you are here?’

‘Same as you. Pain-relief. My boss can be a real bore sometimes,’ she answered with the faintest traces of a smirk.

Let’s hear it now, shall we. ‘Who is your boss?’ he asked, going along with her little game.

‘Some world class, renowned, grumpy attending diagnostician.’

He liked how she complimented him and got a dig at him in the same sentence.

‘He seems to have a stressful job,’ he said, looking over the glass to her heavenly features, painted in the neon glow of the bar.

‘That he likes to imply. He is good at what he does.’

He nodded, trying to contemplate her answer, thinking that there would be traces of sarcasm in her answer, but found none.

‘Cheers to that,’ he said, clinking her glass with his own, their fingers brushing slightly, setting his body ablaze with the kind of fire that raged through forests. It was the closest they had got to touching that day, morning apart.

He finished the scotch in one long sip under her watchful gaze. Torture or bliss, there was no answer.

Though dulled by the excesses of the alcohol, he felt anger rise inside his body at the men who made glances in her direction, from a distance or even as they passed her. She seemed to draw much more gazes today than she did usually.

What exactly was it? Her rich brown hair, inching down her back, or those emerald eyes that gleamed with cleverness? And why, every time, did his jealousy had him to do things which he shouldn’t have been doing?

He didn’t know.

What he did know, was that he wouldn’t let those men even get near her.

So he raised a hand to her face, smoothing away stray strands of hair and tucking them behind her ear.

If she was surprised, she did not show it, but a lovely blush spread out on her cheeks, spreading down to her graceful neck and uncovered shoulders. She eyed him with a raised eyebrow, and he willfully ignored all the ideas that look gave him. Tonight was different. Even if they left the bar together, they would part ways almost as soon as they were outside, walking down in opposite directions.

Tonight they were fighting, even though it was different.

Even if he had to have his heart tugged and pulled and then torn, tonight was different.

Her emeralds met his sapphires, curious and bewitching.

He wished he could kiss those perfectly painted lips and ruin that makeup.

‘How about we make a deal then,’ she asked, setting down the glass on the paper napkin that was left on the shiny marble counter. ‘Tonight, let’s forget everything. Let’s forget that you are my irritating boss, let’s forget that I am a – what did you call me? – ah, bothersome resident. Let’s forget those men staring down at me from the opposite corner of the bar. Let’s put a pause on this battlefield, even though I am sure I can outwit you in every way, and let’ go home together.’

That was a tempting offer.

The suggestive tone and the desire burning plain in her eyes ignited his need for her.

How could he not resist her, even a single night?

His voice came out dusky when he spoke again. ‘Let’s put them topics to bed, and go fuck on the roof.’

Just to say that we did.

She smiled. ‘I’d rather your body than half of your heart,’ she said, quoting the song back to him, her voice the sweetest he had ever heard it to be.

Ethan blinked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her that he was far from fighting or if he wanted to claim those lips, right now, right here.

Then he saw, over her shoulder, a man whisper something to another before looking at her neck. He felt disgusted as his gaze traveled lower and lower. He was suddenly overcome by the desire to punch him in his filthy face, but he kept his expression carefully neutral, not betraying a single of the feelings he was feeling at that exact moment.

‘Let’s go home then,’ he announced, rising at once and reaching for her hand.

He led her outside into the cool crisp Boston night and she only felt justified in flagging down a cab to the way home, though it wasn’t that far away.

They could’ve walked there.

But then he wouldn’t get to do as he willed right in the cab, as he decided he need not waste a single minute of the time he had been gifted, by incidence or co-incidence, all the same. He failed to keep his hands to himself in the darkened cab, momentarily being illuminated by headlights and taillights of the passing traffic, as he crowed her into a corner, evoking soft moans. He watched her, bathed in red light, her sequined top glittering as the light shifted against her profile. Her eyes met his and he lost his sane, his coherent thoughts reducing to a small compass in his brain. Her lips commanded his attention, and he pressed his lips against them, evoking a gentle sigh as their breaths mingled. Her soft fingers grazed his rough beard as her hand rested against his cheek.

The music masked their muffled whispers and moans, but he could feel the drivers eyes, moving with unnecessary regularity, from the road ahead to the rearview mirror.

Even in the elevator, they stumbled, failing from keeping themselves from touching each other. The button to the thirteenth floor was pressed before he felt the soft pressure of her lips against his own. Her tongue was cool and sweet and tasted of Pernod.

‘Alishka…’ he managed to say between the kisses. ‘Why do we fight at all?’

‘Because we are …’ a little giggle. ‘Both … very stubborn …’

A few seconds later they stood at his door, which was unlocked with haste and shut close with a loud bang. The moment they stepped inside, he dipped his head and closed his lips over hers.

‘Nothing makes sense without you…’ he murmured into her ear, proceeding to tug her tight against him.

‘Then accept your defeat …’ she returned immediately, making a quick work of his shirt buttons. ‘But then again, we’ve called a temporary pause on this battlefield, haven’t we.’

Albeit reluctantly, he agreed. ‘We have.’

He led her to the bedroom, helping her out of her clothes before easing her down on the mattress gently, deciding the bitterness and pain had been enough for the day. The night had to be different.

Slow, gentle hands grazed the newly exposed skin with caresses too soft, before he leaned down on her, gazing into her eyes, letting his forehead rest against hers.

‘I love you.’

She giggled again. ‘I love you too.’

**********

Kudos to you guys if you made it out of this chaotic mess my brain put together. I honestly don’t know how this happened, but I guess it’s just me after a full, very real college day with loads of note-taking.

Tagging: @tenaciouslandvoidgiant @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @starrystarrytrouble

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[red-winters]

*Batfam fic-recs

*Some are Tim Drake Centric

**Some links are not working in mobile (and ONLY mobile) for some reason? And some titles that were bolded in the original post are ALSO not displaying on mobile correctly. Idk what to do about that, but you can still look up the fic, I guess.

The Bat’s Crest - livierambles

Note: I will always keep recommending this fic. It’s epic, thrilling, and hilarious and sometimes angsty. Also, everyone is confused, including the ones doing the confusing. Maybe especially the ones doing the confusing. Also, some Tim and Damian bonding, which is always nice.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls.

In the Shadows - Kieron_ODuibhir

(shortened) Summary:

“I’m not like you.”

The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.” 

Chirp - AmariT

Summary: Every piece of the signal Tim unlocked revealed more locks, and by the time he broke through the last one, he was already mentally rehearsing his many upcoming talk show appearances. 'Yes,' he told the interviewer, 'it was difficult for me, a ten-year-old genius, to break open the worldwide alien conspiracy. That's why it took a whole hour.'

When the crackling audio started, he expected some weird alien language. Maybe squawks and high-pitched squeals mixed with musical woofs. Maybe they wouldn't talk at all, and images would beam directly into his mind. Maybe they'd talk in practiced English with a Midwestern drawl like their other resident alien.

Instead he heard a low, guttural voice growling out of his computer speakers. "Robin," it said. "Are you in position?"

A Better Cage - Mangaluva

Note: I was absolutely DELIGHTED to see a Young Justice Crossover with the Justice Lords (Earth-50) from the animated Justice League series, which is near and dear to my heart. I admit I haven’t really had much time to hunker down and read this, but even skimming, it’s an intriguing piece of work. Also, Justice Lords.

Summary: Wally's grateful to have woken up at all, really. He just doesn't know what to make of the world he's woken up in. At least they want to find a way to his world as much as he does, if not exactly for the same reasons...

Common People - AmariT

Note: The Bat boys are all Bruce’s blood sons, but it still feels very much like a found family. I haven’t really read everything in this series, but I feel the author has an amazing grip on all the characters. Lovely and heartwarming.

Summary: His whole life, Jason’s mom had told him his dad was Bruce Wayne, but he’d never been dumb enough to actually believe it. They lived in a rundown, one-room apartment in the worst part of town, and in every single picture he’d ever seen of that rich bastard he was wearing a suit or sipping champagne worth more than everything they’d ever owned.

But if he wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s kid, then what the hell was he doing sitting outside the man’s office in Wayne Towers?

Red Robin and the Hood - momoejaku

Note: Haven’t read this in a while, but it made an impression. Though it’s a fic set during the Red Robin arc, it very much is about both Tim and Jason. Plus, it fleshes out the Pru and Z a bit more, too.

Summary: Bruce Wayne is dead. Superman brought back his body, and the family mourned him, holding a quiet funeral in secret so that the legacy of Batman could live on. But not everyone has been able to put him to rest.

Reeling from the loss of Bruce, his identity as Robin and his trust in his family, Tim Drake sets out on a personal quest that will take him across the world to prove what he knows in his heart: that Bruce Wayne is alive.

Though intending to make his way alone, Tim reluctantly accepts help from his predecessor, Jason Todd, who knows from personal experience that death is not always as final as it seems.

Together, they are Red Robin and the Hood.

Liminal Spaces - Calamityjim

Note: Skimmed this only since I’ve been busy, BUT it does look well-written, and I’m always a sucker for alternate dimension/dimension travel intervention-type of fix-its. It’s a very specific trope.

Summary:

Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension.

Or

When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him.

Little Bird’s Vengeance - KatHarkness-Katara

Note: Crossover with Avengers. Awesome fic with Tim and Jason and some Outsider POV (via the Avengers) of these dimensional stragglers. I think Tim’s team shows up in the later chapters, too. If you’re reading on mobile, it’s still very much worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version.

Summary: Why is life never simple? Red Robin's ended up worlds away from home once again, and now what's he to do? What do the Avengers want from him; do SHIELD have another agenda; and is there any way back? Pre-New 52. No slash. Rated for inevitable language/violent themes.

A Displaced Red Robin - dragonprincess1988

Note: Worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version. Well-written fic! EMOTIONS! I love them. Younger Dick Grayson is adorable, Tim is a competent fixer-upper for other people but not so much himself. He’s kind of angsty and making YJ Dick want to keep him (and YJ Bruce, too, if you read between the lines). On the plus side, seems like he’s making good friends with Young Justice Roy. This fic was written before certain episodes of YJ came out, though, and the fic reflects/will continue to reflect that. Still, I give it five stars.

Author’s Summary: Tim gets transported to the cartoon Young Justice world, and he's not sure he knows how to deal with it. Attention: If you want to know about Artemis or people from Tim's world the final note on my profile is for you. Also, a special thank you to angel-gidget over at Tumblr, who made the wonderful cover art for this story.

The Till-then From the Ever Since - Keiron O_Duibhir

Note: Fandom classic. Definitely a must-read for Batfam fans, in my humble opinion.

Summary: It began, or seemed to begin, with Jason.

Usually that would have meant something in the order of fire and explosion and probably at least one gunshot wound, but for once (as Tim said, sourly), it wasn't actually Jason's fault.

The Wayne Family Ghost - pupeez4eva

Note: Please read this. Especially if you’re sad or anxious or just have time. I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s my go-to cheer-up fic. Absolutely hysterical.

Summary: In which Bruce realizes that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic. 

Bloodline - chibi_nightowl

Note: Complicated family dynamics, this time centering around Tim, Selina, Bruce and, surprisingly, Damian. Jason and Dick make an appearance as supportive big bros, too. It works. Take a read, it isn’t that long.

Summary:

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Talon!Tim AU Series by keeptogethernow

Note: Found family, from a different angle. Cool fic and well-written.

Summary of Tso’ape Mumbichi, first in the series: Ten years ago, two people made a deal with the devil--unlimited funds in exchange for their child. And now it's time to pay up. But there's no way to ensure that the child will cooperate.

Shutterbug Series by goldkirk

Note: Exactly what it says on the tin! Found family.

Summary:

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird next door neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

Thursday’s Child - anthalogia

Note: Well-written and has found family and Tiny!Tim? Automatic win.

Summary:

He’s not the first child with nowhere else to go that Bruce Wayne has taken in. Dick Grayson was the first and the most high-profile – because no one would have thought Bruce Wayne was interested in ever raising a child, let alone the orphaned son of circus performers – but Jason was maybe just as much of a shock to society for being a street kid who came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim Drake is ordinary by comparison – his parents died in a plane accident. He can’t think of anything very special about him except that he met Bruce a few times when his parents hosted parties to keep in touch with Gotham society.

Or, tiny Tim Drake is adopted by the Waynes a little earlier than scheduled.

We’re Not Driving (How did we get here?) - TimTheToaster

Note: Short and sweet, a little angsty, and then very sweet.

Summary:

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Take It Back Now Y’all - TimTheToaster

Note: And Tiny!Jason has made his appearance. Also, Tim, I am begging you to please take care of yourself—ah, Bruce has made his appearance. Interesting. Also, I gotta say this author is good.

Summary:

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April.

Not possible.

Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April.

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) - TimTheToaster

Note: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, beginning of reconciliation, and brotherhood. A satisfying, cathartic moment during the Red Robin arc to soothe your heart.

Summary:

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks.

For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

Everybody’s Heard (Bird is the Word) - TimTheToaster

Red Robin Era ANGST, but like, deliciously well-written. Also, protective Dad Bruce is always epic. Light bashing of Green Arrow and BC, though. But considering the situation (in this fic), kind of warranted.

Summary:

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

A Choice to Make - scorbusfics

Note: fresh and interesting premise! Cool world building, too.

Summary: They have to choose. Dick and Bruce have to choose one person each to save, and one to disappear through the door.

“Send one of us,” Dick says fiercely, not for the first time. His face is dark and angry and desperate, eyes flicking from brother to brother. “Send one of us instead. I won’t choose.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce says.

But Tim knows.

Secret Places - RenaRoo

It’s ANGST, but the author knows how to use it well. Also, Jason’s line at the end killed me. Damn.

Summary: Tim Drake goes missing. The search to find him begins.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 20

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

just because it's pouring down,

doesn't mean we're gonna drown

Roy was gently rocking her in place as they sat, his touch and comfort soothing her instantly. It helped her think more clearly in the emotionally charged room.  He’d hugged her against his chest and Riza cuddled into his torso completely. Her feet were up on the couch, and she was lying against him. Her tea was long forgotten, but at least she’d stopped feeling so shaky. Morning sickness was a bitch.

She’d finally given into him, her need for his comfort. She was tired of fighting and hiding from her husband. They’d finally met on a middle ground after Maes’ death. It might be no man’s land, it might finally be peace, that was yet to be seen. Today’s conversation would decide their fate.

“Even though it terrifies me,” Riza began, breaking the silence that had blanketed over them. “I think… If I share it all now, we can finally air everything out. It was an extremely difficult time for us both and I think we need to discuss it, rather than shoulder it alone like I’ve been doing.” Riza shifted, moving herself closer to him. “I’ve done that since our first argument. I told myself just to get through Maes’ funeral in one piece, then I could deal with it all, but I’m exhausted.”

She was so tired. She’d spent her whole life hiding how she really felt and putting others before herself but now, pregnant and exhausted from her morning sickness, she was tired of it all.

“These past few days… I felt like I’d lost you.” Riza gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly in her fist. “I was…” Riza sighed. “I was upset about Maes. I know how much he meant to you and how close you both were, so I can’t imagine how you must feel about it all, but I was hurting too.” She heard his breathing hitch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Gracia and Elicia being left alone. I got Mia to school then went right over to see her…” Riza swallowed back the tears, remembering Gracia sobbing uncontrollably as Riza held her, letting her ride it out. “It was horrible. I was there for hours.”

Roy was silent as she let it all out and Riza was grateful. His hands had stopped rubbing up and down her arms in comfort. They remained still as her explanation washed over him.

“And...” Riza sniffed and willed the tears not to fall. “I had to tell Mia what had happened.” Riza swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She couldn’t understand it. She didn’t know what I meant by she’d never be able to see her Uncle Maes again,” Riza’s voice shook. “She asked if you were really sad the night you came home,” she sniffed, “and then asked if we’d be sad if she died.”

The silence was deafening in the room. Riza squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of losing Mia. She’d never wanted to bring that up again. She couldn’t lose her baby girl. Riza would die inside if she did. It would kill her to lose any part of her family.

Roy stood abruptly. Riza was so startled she fell sideways on the couch, needing to push herself up to a seated position to see where he’d gone. Her husband was pacing in the middle of the room, frantically. One hand was gripping his hair tightly, the other on his hip.

“I don’t want that.” His whisper was quiet, but she heard the sob in his voice. “I can’t lose her,” he pleaded, face crumpling. “I can’t – My baby girl.”

Riza hushed him, pulling him into a tight hug. Hands wrapped around her tightly. Roy pressed his face into her shoulder, his head dipped low as she felt his torso shake with his sobs. His knees shook beneath him and Riza had to hold his weight for a brief second. Riza knew exactly how he felt because she’d lost it like this when Mia had asked her the question. But it just showed she was too young to comprehend the concept of dying. She was too young to lose anyone. Too young.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Riza reassured him fiercely through her own tears. “She’s safe and happy with your mother right now.”

“And I left you to deal with all of that. I didn’t even think.”

Riza hushed him again. “You had a lot to deal with –”

“It’s no excuse,” he replied. His tone was firm, rising in volume. The grip on her tightened. “I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s because she’s only young. She didn’t understand.”

Silence enveloped them as they both cried. It was cathartic to do this together, Riza thought. It was finally all coming out and she felt better about it. A weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

“I won’t say I wasn’t angry at the whole situation,” Riza whispered. “Because I was. You were grieving, I get that, but you didn’t need to say those things. That’s when I thought we were done,” she admitted. “After everything happened, I thought you’d finally realised how much I burden you every day.”

His head jerked up from her shoulder, his eyes staring into hers with disbelief in them. It was a comfort, at least. “Never,” he replied vehemently, pressing his forehead against hers, as if it would somehow make her understand better. “That’s on me. You keep me sane. You keep me grounded. You keep me going.” His voice cracked on the last word. “You always have.” He drew himself up to his full height, meeting her eyes. His hands never strayed from around her body though. “There is a plot in the military that we think goes right to the top.”

Riza’s stomach twisted painfully and dread threatened to creep up her spine. She swallowed thickly, letting the weight of his revelation settle over her.

“I don’t have names yet, but I think that was what Hughes figured out. Or, it was just how deep this whole thing ran. Someone is controlling the military. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Riza’s stomach continued to churn. “The reason I asked you not to go after the culprit and get your revenge wasn’t me asking you to drop it,” she whispered. “I was terrified of losing you. Whoever is pulling the strings didn’t hesitate to kill Maes as soon as they found out he’d discovered them. I don’t want you to die too.” Riza gripped his t-shirt tighter again, shifting her face so that it was pressed into his shoulder.

“I know,” Roy murmured. “I know that now. I was unfair to you, and if anyone else had been there, I would have lashed out at them too. It wasn’t directed at you for any reason.” Riza felt him hang his head. “I’m sorry. When I found out you were in the hospital that’s when it hit me just how awful I’d been to you. At Hughes’ funeral…” He took a shaky breath, almost stuttering over the last word. “I saw how good you were with Elicia and Mia, cheering them up after such a sad day. You were wonderful with them. You told Elicia about your own parents. I overheard you talking about it and I didn’t think you would share that with anyone, but you did it to show her, and to teach her, that it’s okay to be sad when people leave us like that. All the way home in the car she’d raved about how ‘Auntie Riza had said this, and Auntie Riza had said that’. You were exactly what she needed.” Roy gave her a quick squeeze. “Gracia and I knew you’d helped her understand. When I came home last night, that’s when I realised, I was losing you,” he admitted in a whisper. “You couldn’t even look at me, and I don’t blame you.”

“I was still angry at you but frustrated at myself.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“I obviously didn’t help you the way I should have through this tough time. I never offered help like I should have.”

“You did try to help. I also never gave you the chance,” Roy countered. “I wasn’t exactly the most approachable person. We promised we’d look out for each other and I did the exact opposite. I shouldered it all and pushed you both away and to the side in my grief.”

Riza couldn’t think of anything to reply to that. All her anger had left her now and she was tired. Emotionally and physically. She wanted to put this behind them and move on. There was nothing else that jumped to mind that needed to be discussed, and she felt certain they’d done enough of that for one lifetime.

Now, they could start moving forward.

A short, strangled laugh left Riza’s throat as she thought about Maes. He was probably up there screaming about how they were both so stupid and too stubborn for their own good.

“What?” Roy asked, his tone both curious and surprised.

She shook her head, peeling it away from his shoulder. When she looked into his eyes Riza finally felt at peace. “I was just thinking about how Maes is up there yelling about how stupid and stubborn we both are.”

Roy blinked at her, then his face relaxed. “He was always right about that. And the fact that I’m a colossal idiot. He’s still right about that,” he smiled. It was tiny, but it was there.

“But you’re my idiot, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” Riza pressed a hand to his cheek. “I couldn’t. Who would I tease if you were gone?”

Roy let out a laugh then hugged her tightly after pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re right. Who would keep my sorry ass in line if you weren’t here?”

“To be fair, Mia probably could. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

His laugh was solid this time. “You’re right. We’d be eating chocolate with every meal and there would be ice cream for breakfast if she got her way. I’d be huge in size.”

They both laughed, smiling fondly. When their eyes met again, their faces softened. Roy lifted a hand to her chin, cupping it and lifting it. She licked her lips in anticipation of a kiss.

“I love you so much, Riza Mustang,” he whispered. “I know I can be difficult, and I have a lot of making up to do but know that feeling will never change.”

“I just need you,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’ve come back to us.”

Roy bent his head, his lips pressing against hers so softly. It was a caring and loving kiss. She’d missed that feeling so much. His hand slowly moved so his palm was cupping her cheek. His fingers moved into the hair by her ear as his thumb stroked her cheekbone lightly. It was gentle and hesitant when Riza needed more. She gripped his shoulders tightly, deepening the kiss and pulling his body closer to hers. The two of them moved together, basking in the love they held for each other.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Like I said, you ground me. You’re the one constant in my life I can count on, so is Mia, but I took advantage of that recently.” His head lifted so he met her eyes. “No more.”

She smiled at him. It felt like it had been too long since the last she’d done that.

*          *          *

Riza was stirred from her slumber by the ghostly feeling of fingers brushing over her face. She shifted as it tickled her skin, her face brushing against something hard, but warm. Opening her eyes, she saw Roy’s well-defined chest directly in her view. Glancing up, she saw her husband smiling down at her. He was propped up on his elbow, which rested atop his pillow, while his head leaned against a closed fist.

“Hey,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her cheek. His fingers abandoned her skin as he did so, but they returned to stroking her face after it. She sighed at his touch, snuggling closer to his body.

“Hello,” she sighed as his fingers made her shiver. “I didn’t realise I fell asleep.”

Roy chuckled. “For about two hours.”

Riza’s eyes popped open. “Really?” she asked in disbelief.

Nodding, he shifted so he could kiss her head again. “You must have needed it.”

After their emotionally charged discussion of what had happened between them, Roy had kissed her softly. Riza wanted – no, needed – more, and dragged him into a deeper kiss, her hands tugging at his t-shirt, trying to get it over his head as quickly as possible. She’d meant it when she said she’d missed him. It wasn’t just his presence and his comfort. She’d missed his love too. She was desperate for the emotional connection they shared. Riza needed to reconnect with her husband. The bond between them was something she’d never experienced with anyone else before. It was so intense, Riza was lost without it during their hard time. So, she’d dragged him off to their bedroom and had apparently fallen asleep for two hours after it.

“I suppose I did,” she agreed. She let her eyes drift closed as she cuddled back into his side. “And I definitely needed that.”

Roy hummed in agreement, bending to kiss her again. “I’m just thankful that was the way things went. It could have gone the opposite.”

Riza’s eyes opened, her smile slipping from her face. “It could have, but I don’t think I could ever leave you, Roy,” she admitted. “We agreed we were in this together. Plus, we have the kids.” Her stomach fluttered at the plural word.

While he’d made love to her, Roy had cupped her swollen stomach in his hands, kissing the skin and whispering about how much he loved their little one already. He made promises and declared vows against her skin, his lips and breath tickling her stomach.

“We do, and I wouldn’t trade them both for the world.”

“Neither would I,” Riza agreed.

“I can’t believe we’re having a second one…” A smile spread across his face as he trailed off. “Sometimes I really can’t believe how lucky I’ve been.”

“Me too. Who would have thought I would fall in love with the scrawny city boy who appeared on my father’s doorstep one day?” she quipped, grinning up at him.

Roy laughed. “Who would have thought the shy, quiet girl who almost made me vomit when she cut the head off a chicken for dinner would fall in love with me?” he retorted. “I’m sure you did that on purpose, just for the shock factor.”

“Maybe I did,” she teased as they laughed together. “You’re the best person in my life, Roy, and always have been. I would never want to lose you.”

“I feel the same way,” he whispered, dropping his joking tone. He gave her a tight squeeze.

Peace washed over her body, solidifying in her mind that she was extremely loved by this man and he wanted her by his side. Her childish fears would not get in her way today, or in the future. She decided there and then, to actually listen to Roy when he told her how amazing she was, and how much he needed her, rather than smile and nod just to keep the peace. She was worthy of being loved, and she was a good person. She helped him, and that was all she ever wanted.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, shifting to press her lips against his.

Roy rolled her onto her back, so he was hovering over her. His knees were on either side of her hips, one hand on the mattress by her shoulder. The other hand lifted to her face, stroking down the side of her face, moving from her temple, down her cheek, to her cup her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, Riza,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hover just above hers, but not making contact. “So much.”

“I love you, Roy. Always have, always will.”

They were lost to each other once more under the warmth of their bedsheets.

*          *          *

“Hiya Mummy!” Mia called after they heard the front door to their home open. “Daddy!”

“Shoes off, Mia,” Chris commanded before they saw their daughter. There was a brief pause, then she came barrelling into their living room, Hayate hot on her heels. He looked as happy and excited to see them as Mia did, his tail wagging happily while his tongue lolled from his mouth.

“Hello, Mia,” Riza greeted.

Roy stood from his place beside Riza on the couch, disentangling himself from Riza’s hold. He bent low to scoop Mia up from the floor, twirling her around in place while she giggled happily. Hayate barked at his feet, his paws shifting on the carpet. Riza chuckled at their pup, betting that he probably wanted the same treatment.

“How’s my best girl?” Roy asked once he stopped spinning her around. Her body swayed in his arms, her head still spinning, while she giggled again.

“Good!” she exclaimed happily. “We went on the swings, we got some ice cream, we played fetch with Hayate and he jumped in the pond after his stick,” she giggled, leaning over her father’s arms to look down at their dog. As soon as Hayate saw Mia’s eyes on him, his tail wagged happily once more.

Mia continued to regale Roy with everything they did that day, and it sounded like a lot.

Chris approached Riza, one eyebrow lifted. Riza knew already what her question was.

“We’re good,” Riza told her with a smile, her eyes drifting back to Roy as he began to exclaim his surprise at what they did today, overexaggerating his tone and disbelief.

“I knew you would be,” Chris replied. “But that stuff still needs to be figured out. I saw how much what had happened was affecting him, and I could see it was beginning to tear you both apart.”

Riza felt her stomach twist uncomfortably, knowing that people had noticed their marital problems. However, what was done was done, and they’d made their way through it. That was what mattered.

“I’m glad you worked it out,” Chris added, offering Riza one of her rare, small smiles. “Otherwise I would have smacked him upside the head for being so stupid to push you away.”

“Thank you, Chris,” Riza replied, genuinely.

“Don’t mention it,” Chris replied, her tone gruff.

Riza smiled, noticing how she looked slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude. Despite being Roy’s mother, she still supported Riza wholeheartedly, and that was appreciated. In the past, her father had always taken Roy’s side, even going so far as blaming Roy’s failings or lack of progress on her, stating she was distracting him. It was nice to have a parental figure’s support once in her life.

Chris’ tone softened when Mia squealed loudly as Roy began to tickle her, not letting her escape from his hold. “I’d do anything for you both, you know that.”

A proud smile spread across Riza’s face. “I do. Thank you.”

“And for that little girl,” Chris added. “Even if she does run me off my feet all the time.”

Riza chuckled. “She’s well known for that.”

“Honestly, it was every five minutes. She’s always on the move.”

“Tell me about it. I used to look away for one second when she was a baby and she’d managed to crawl across the room to pick something up to put in her mouth. I needed another set of eyes.” Riza laughed fondly at the memory.

“Come on, Hayate!” Mia beckoned her friend loudly, leaving the room. They both ran up the stairs hurriedly, and Riza noticed she wasn’t limping.

“She’s going to get changed because she’s “all sweaty”,” Roy explained, adding in air quotes.

“I’m not surprised,” Chris snorted. “She ran about all day. I couldn’t get her to sit still for her lunch.”

Roy laughed, slinging his arm around Riza’s shoulders, then pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for looking after her today,” he added, his tone sincere. “We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Chris stated, as if it were obvious she would. “I’d do anything for you two. Even if it means I end up in a heap by the end of the day because she’s run me ragged,” Chris added, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Mia. Then, Chris narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m glad to see things turned out for the best.”

“They did,” Roy replied, but his tone was slightly solemn.

“Good, because I would have killed you, Roy Boy, for letting this one go.”

Riza blushed lightly at the compliment while Roy chuckled beside her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Part of her was so close to opening her mouth to protest, but then she remembered her promise to herself earlier in the day. She was good enough. She was worthy of their love and support.

“She definitely is,” Roy grinned, pressing another kiss to Riza’s temple.

[quarantine-writer]

Why do stray cats follow me? P. 3

I know it doesn’t look like it yet, but this is a (really slow burn) MariChat story. Please don’t hate me.

Part [1] [2] [3]

Adrien’s day had been tired so far. It started at 6 am with Gorilla waking him up.

“Where’s Nathalie?” He said, with his eyes still semi closed.

“... Not coming today.” 

Adrien had a well-balanced, lonely, and healthy breakfast. At 7 am he was already in Pont de Bir-Hakeim for the ‘City Life Collection’ photo shoot of this year. Vincent was talking to the Art Director about locations and special lighting for the shoots when he spotted him.

“Adrien, you’re already here! Go to make up and dress yourself up with combo number 4 first.”

Walking to the dresser he saw Lila with the hair stylist and saluted them from afar. He already knew she was going to be there. For some reason unknown to him, his father agreed on three photo shoots with her. This was barely the second. And because she was good at it, it wouldn’t surprise him that she will eventually sign up for more.

Six long hours passed, and they were done. To celebrate, everyone in the set ate lunch together. Lila was stuck by his side and he didn’t push her off, to be fair, she wasn’t doing anything wrong to anyone that day, so he tried (and failed) to have fun as well. He meant it when he talked to her: they could be ‘friends’ but there was a limit to how much he will be able to endure, specifically if she insisted on hurting his friends. 

"Adrien, do you want to go to somewhere else and enjoy the rest of the day with me?”

“Thank you, Lila, but I can’t”

“If it is because of your father, maybe I can talk to him?”

“I had plans with Nino today, but they got cancelled because Father wants me to practice a new song for an upcoming event. I don’t think his opinion will change.”

“Oh... okay, later then.”

Adrien entered his car without offering her a ride, Gorilla closed the door and Adrien lowered down the window. “Yes, later. Have a nice day, Lila”

“Bye!” Lila said and Gorilla started the engine and the car moved away from her, who kept waving goodbye until they disappeared in the next corner. 

And it was true. Nino wanted to show him how to breakdance and he really wanted to learn, he didn’t specify with his father about the plans, but Gabriel Agreste had a sixth sense when it comes to letting him have fun with friends. Suddenly the day before he was informed that there will be an event host by the Tsurugi family next month and he was supposed to play a couple songs during the evening: “Painted” and “River Flows in You”, both from Yiruma. 

He already knew the second one by heart. It was one of her mother’s favorites.

So, he returned to the mansion and started to practice the first one. For the first two hours he was practicing seriously. The third hour he recorded himself to create a loop that would be played later when Chat Noir went out to play. 

Gorilla appeared at his door around two hours and a half later to give him some food. He returned the empty dishes just before going out. His recording had a very elaborate edit of his very best try, looped three times, and then a couple recordings with errors here and there. If his father came when the errors were being played, he won’t disturb. If he went when the recording was sounding perfect and realize he still was playing, he won’t interrupt neither. Nobody will enter his room in the next 3 hours, probably. It was almost 5 pm.

“Plagg, claws...”

“Wait!” Plagg interrupted him mid-sentenced.

“Plagg?”

“First you shush me because you are recording and now you suddenly transform without saying a word? What happened to your manners kid?”

“Sorry Plagg, but I didn’t have any recording of that song, and I really wanted to go out.”

Plagg was still playing hard. Floating with both arms crossed in front of Adrien’s face “Where are we going today?”

“I don’t know... anywhere else but here.” Plagg was still with his tiny arms crossed, clearly upset for being ignored. “But I’m sorry bud, do you want extra cheese before going out today? Or do you want to stay? We can play video games if you want.”

Adrien would probably never realize how much Plagg loved him. He dropped his arms and decided to go lie down to the blonde’s head so he couldn’t see his face. Adrien moved something inside Plagg with his suggestion to stay home to make him, the God of Destruction, feel better when clearly Adrien just wanted to run away. “Nah, I ate the emergency supplies when you were recording. I’m fine if I got three extra cheeses when we return”

Adrien pet Plagg’s head over his head with a smile “You are incorrigible buddy. Plagg, claws out!”

                            ━━━━━━━━※━━━━━━━━

To be honest, she woke up that morning thinking that her day was going to be exhausting.

But here she was, smiling, hugging Luka’s back on the way home, resting her head on him. Both were on his bicycle, carrying an empty box behind. 

Luka smelled like lavender, probably because of the cloth softener in his house, but it recalled her freedom and peace. And she just wanted to keep hugging him all day.

It has been an awesome day so far. She woke up late but on time to meet Luka. She stayed very late the previous day dividing the gifts by types. Sweaters, scarfs, gloves, hats, everything was also divided by colors. She tagged everything, unwrapped it and put it into bags, and those bags into a box.

Luka gently carried her around Paris to deliver the clothes into a couple charities for homeless. They got lunch together by the Seine. They saw street performers by the Eiffel Tour doing brake-dance and a couple mimes playing with kids.

Luka bought her a smoothie and they walk down the Jardin des Tuileries while talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

When they passed near Notre Dame, he told her he would like to show her his new progress with her melody, so she listened quietly the 2 minutes song on a bench next to him, watching the peaceful Parisians enjoying a sunny and beautiful Saturday. 

Everything was lovely and colorful. So far, no Hawkmoth, no Chloé, no Lila, no stress, no danger. It was like a vacations day and she was up to live it full for what it last. Since the moment she opened her eyes she was waiting for the next akumatized person to show up and change her plans, but it was already 4:00 pm and Luka was successfully distracting her from her own thoughts.

Luka never asked her why she had so much male clothes, and even that small detail gave her peace at mind. He didn’t judge, he just listened. 

There was a moment in which she was startled by a purple butterfly on Notre Dame. He immediately put himself on between them, with a fierce determination. But it was a regular butterfly. They laughed together by the realization but laughs stopped when he hugged her.

“I promise I will protect you with all I have if Hawkmoth dare to attack today”

And Marinette knew it was true, he has already done it after all, jumping to protect her from the bees last time. If Luka haven’t done that, who knows what would have happened to her that day.

It made Marinette immediately sad. It was horrible to know that thanks to Chloé: Luka will never be Viperion again, Alya couldn’t be Rena, Max couldn’t be Pegasus, Kim couldn’t be Roi Singe, Kagami shouldn’t be Ryuuko and Nino couldn’t be Carapace.

Of course, Luka thought she was suddenly sad because Marinette was scared for him. He caressed her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Marinette. If there’s something I’m scared of is not Hawkmoth, but to not being able to cheer you up when you are distressed”

Marinette hid her face in his chest.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked, softly.

“What do you think will happen if Hawkmoth wins?” she mumbled.

“That won’t happen. Paris has the best heroes on earth.”

“But what if” she insisted.

Luka meditated his answer for a couple seconds “Then everybody in Paris will help Ladybug and Chat Noir to get a proper revenge. If Hawkmoth ‘wins’ I’m sure everybody will fight along with them to help them restore everything back. Including us both. Am I right?”

Marinette let a little giggle escape her lips. “But of course, Luka”

“I can imagine you as a hero you know, brave, smart, beautiful”

Marinette blushed immediately “Ugh... stop. Don’t exaggerate”

“I am not!” he said, kissing her forehead. Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. “You will probably overshadow Ladybug. At least to my eyes.”

She didn’t immediately reply to that. She was feeling too many butterflies in her belly and even her neck was probably red right now. She covered her face with her hands and mumbled a quiet “Thank you”.

Luka released her from the hug and got on his bicycle again “Let’s go, I don’t want your parents to think I kidnapped you.”

And really, time flies. How come she already spent 8 hours with Luka without noticing it?

So here she was. In her way home, hugging Luka’s back and smiling while mumbling the melody he played for her a couple hours ago. Since the last battle she has spent countless hours talking to Tikki and the other kwamis, studying, learning about history and her new role responsibilities and thinking about strategies. She had been holding quite difficult discussions in her room lately. And she didn’t even have the chance to talk to Chat Noir yet.

So, it felt good to be able to relax today. She didn’t realize she needed a moment of peace that much.

She also didn’t notice Chat Noir jumping from rooftop to rooftop, but he did spot them and gave them a sincere smile from afar.

“Hey, Luka”

Marinette called him from behind when they were a couple streets from her home.

“Yes? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, just change directions please”

“Change directions? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere” She hugged him stronger. “If it is okay. I just want to stay a little more with you today. Just one more hour.”

Luka’s heart shrank and he almost lost control of the bicycle by Marinette sudden comment.

“Do you want to see the sunset from Sacre Coeur?” He asked.

“I would love to”

                           ━━━━━━━━※━━━━━━━━

Adrien arrived home before anyone noticed it and went downstairs to have dinner at the same time as always. His dad was unexpectedly waiting for him at the table. 

“Father? What are you doing here?”

“I have some news to share with you, Son” Gabriel asked him to take a sit with his hand. Someone from the service staff served him a plate with onion soup, toasted bread and a glass of water.

When they were alone, his father started conversation again “As you know, Nathalie have not been feeling well lately”

“Is she sick again?” Adrien was looking at his food with a sad look. Something that was stressing him out lately was how much Nathalie’s condition resembled his mom’s.

“Yes, but there’s good news on that regard” Adrien raised his gaze with a hint of hope. “A doctor found out what was happening to her. She will be out for three weeks for recovery, but she will be cured”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Adrien stood up with energy and a smile from side to side, truly excited for the good news “What did she had?”

“Something related to her inner ear, which explains the dizziness. A minor surgery fixes it”

“Can we go and visit her?”

“She prefers not to. But you are welcome to find a gift if you want, for when she returns” His father kept his gaze busy on his tablet, probably still working.

“I will do it, thanks, Father”

                          ━━━━━━━━※━━━━━━━━

When Marinette closed the door of her room, Tikki flew in front of her with a smile.

“Marinette, did you have fun today?” 

“Yes!” Marinette ran to the divan and laid there hugging a cat pillow, while giggling “Today was great, Tikki. I think I didn’t have this much fun in a while.”

“I’m glad” Tikki sat above the cat pillow.

“But as fun as the day was today,” Marinette sat down, letting the pillow aside and holding Tikki on her hands “We have work to do.” She climbed up the stairs of her bed and pull out the miraculous box out of her hidden spot. 

She opened it and took the panjas bracelet, put it on and Roarr appeared in front of her. “Hi Guardian! Is it my turn today?”

Marinette giggled at the little kwami “Hello there, would you please be as nice as to help me to know you better?”

“I like peanuts!” Roarr answered fast “I don’t like when the weak is abused, I’m very protective” 

“I know you can control the lighting of a place and reflect yourself to camouflage” Marinette was taking notes “I also know you take most of the decisions with Sass back in the box when Tikki and Plagg are out”.

“I have had only 13 permanent holders. Nothing compared to the others, so I’ve stayed most of my time taking care of the world inside the box”

“By what circumstances have you been handled to permanent holders?”

“I was stolen 4 times, 7 times I was needed to hide the order of the guardians, 1 time the guardian of the box preferred my powers to fulfill his job, you know, like Master Fu with Wayzz, and one time the Guardian of the box preferred the Pig miraculous, and give my miraculous to his lover so I can help to keep the box safe with her.”

Marinette stopped writing. “What?”

“What, what?”

“A Guardian share this secret with his lover?! Who was it?”

“It was many, many centuries ago” Roarr jumped from Marinette’s hand to her hair “The guardian was married when he was appointed to the task and he decided that the way to keep his family protected was to share the secret with Abelia.”

“Was it a good idea?”

“Many tragedies overcome his family. I know Abelia didn’t regret any.”

They chatted a bit more, Marinette did a pause to get her some peanuts, she showed her the room and what she liked to do and finally they wish each other sweet dreams after a couple hours of getting to know each other.

It was already after midnight and Marinette was already laid on bed when a noise called her attention.

“Ugh... again?”

She popped her head out and saw a watering can spinning on the floor. It stopped and a little kitty walked out there. 

“What are you doing inside there, little buddy?” It was a brown kitty, smaller than the one she saw the other day, but this time the kitty didn’t run away the moment he heard her. It walked to the watering can again, searching for something. Marinette saw how he started to lick the metal, so she went out and pour him some water in a flowerpot base she saw near him.

The kitty followed her and started to drink water “Were you thirsty little one?” She couldn’t help it and pet his head a little. “Such a cutie”

Part [1] [2] [3]

Gosh I’m the worst... I know this looks like a Lukanette (which I also love) but this is the most realistic turn I can take after that season finale! This is a Marichat story even if I haven’t prove it yet :) (please remember the sloow slowwww burn disclaimer from part 1)

[lantur]

if you were mine - part one

summary: Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.

rated: t | words: 6632

part one of two

read on ao3 

Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.

It’s a tricky question. Her position as his adjutant and bodyguard shows a level of trust between them that is as personal as it is professional. Personal connections and relationships should have no room in the military. But at the same time, of course their relationship is more than professional. That is inevitable. They have known one another since they were teenagers; even spent three years living together while he had been her father’s apprentice. Roy had been her closest friend, then, back when he was just Roy, and not Colonel Mustang.

They had gone to New Year’s celebrations in town together. Roy had taught her how to dance, she had taught him how to cook, and they had a little book club together when neither were occupied with their studies. Years later, she had entrusted him with the secrets of her father’s alchemy, and he had inspired her to enlist in the military academy. They served together in Ishval. Neither of them has forgotten any of that long history. How could they?

They keep to the appropriate boundaries regardless. 

Riza only ever refers to him as Colonel Mustang, and he follows her lead. Their working relationship as colonel and adjutant necessitates that they are close, even more so than the other members of the unit. Falman, Breda, Fuery, and Havoc all operate independently or in small groups as their operations demand, but she is almost always by Colonel Mustang’s side. All day, every day. Often into the evenings as well. And lately, Riza has been wondering whether Colonel Mustang has been taking advantage of that fact.

The first reason for her suspicion is that working together after hours happens more than it should. Colonel Mustang works at a snail’s pace during the day, but when the clock strikes six in the evening and everyone else leaves headquarters, he is a man transformed. Suddenly sharp, alert, working with alacrity on a dozen different tasks - and needing her help on every one of them.

“I finished the Hielscher case report. Do you have the preliminary reports about the developing situation in Limeton for me to review?” he asks her, one evening in early October, as she enters their office. “Also, has there been any progress in finding soldiers to testify in the Schwartz court martial case?”

“Yes, and yes,” Riza replies, unloading an armful of paperwork onto his desk. “I’m glad you finished the case report, though I will say that could have easily been done this morning between your meetings.” ”

Colonel Mustang leans back in his chair and stretches, sighing with satisfaction. “You know I do my best work at night, Lieutenant.”

Riza ignores the joke, taking the completed case report off his desk and looking through it. It had been completed in painstaking detail. “How long are you planning on maintaining this farce of incompetence during regular work hours, Colonel? Surely others must have seen through it by now, considering the quality of work you actually produce and your accomplishments.”

“They assume that I simply take credit for the work you and everyone else on the team do,” he replies happily. “And now,” - he picks up the phone and looks expectantly at her. “May I interest you in dinner?”

Riza eats dinner with him at least a few days a week, takeout in the office. These long days are exhausting, but Colonel Mustang doesn’t seem to mind. He actually seems oddly cheerful on the evenings they work late together - upbeat and chipper, sometimes whistling to himself as he works.

Every night, he helps her put her coat on, and Riza wonders whether she imagines his fingers lingering on her shoulders. He drives her home, even though she insists that she can walk; that it will be good to get some fresh air after being cooped up in the office all day.

Riza takes Hayate out for his twice-daily walk afterwards. End even though she should savor her short twelve hours away from work and Colonel Mustang, she can’t get him and his odd behavior out of her mind.

-

Their unit goes out for drinks and dinner every other Friday after work at Blomgren’s, the bar at the end of the street, and Rebecca often joins them. It’s been a year and a half since Ishval, but the memories still weigh heavy in Riza’s mind. These Friday nights, and her quiet weekends with Hayate and Rebecca, are a welcome escape. She doesn’t deserve this respite, not after everything she had done in Ishval, but she still guiltily enjoys shedding her uniform in favor of civilian clothes, even swapping out her earrings to something a little more fun and a little less professional.

Every other Friday, when the unit piles into a booth, Colonel Mustang always ends up by her side. There’s so little space that despite Riza’s attempts to keep a respectful distance, they end up pressed together from hip to knee, shoulder to wrist. She can feel the material of his clothes and the warmth of the skin underneath, the strength of him, pressed against the stretches of skin on her legs and arms revealed by her skirt and sleeveless blouse.

Colonel Mustang laughs and jokes with everybody and seems completely unfazed by their proximity. Like he doesn’t even notice it, despite the fact that they seem to end up in a position like this every time they go out with the team.

Riza sips her drink, trying to focus on her friends’ conversation, but she can’t help but speculate. Her thoughts turn in the predictable ways they have been doing lately. The late nights, the proximity. The way Colonel Mustang always seems to glance at her first after he makes another one of his jokes or witty comments.

Across from her, Rebecca directs a subtle look at her and raises an eyebrow, nodding along to Falman’s story about his landlord from hell.

Riza lifts a shoulder a fraction of an inch.

He’s definitely doing this on purpose, Riza.

Honestly, I have no idea.

Rebecca gives her a flatly skeptical expression so blatant that Riza has to cough to remind her of the code.

Colonel Mustang offers to drive them home afterward, since he’s giving everyone else a ride anyway. “We’ll walk,” Riza says, and she offers her team a small smile. “Rebecca’s staying the night at my place. Besides, I need some intelligent conversation after spending the last twelve hours with you all.”

She and Rebecca wave them off and head in the direction of her apartment. “Okay,” Rebecca declares, the second Colonel Mustang’s car disappears around the corner. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

Riza covers her face with her hand. It feels warm. “Nothing’s going on,” she says.

“Nothing’s going on?” Rebecca asks incredulously. “He asks you to work late with him every single week. Sometimes more than once a week.”

“We do work,” Riza insists. “There’s nothing salacious happening in the office, I promise you.”

“Bet you wish there was,” Rebecca mutters under her breath, and then dodges Riza’s elbow. “And tonight--”

“We sat next to each other, like you and Havoc did.”

Rebecca snorts. “Havoc doesn’t mysteriously appear by my side every time we’re about to sit down. He doesn’t buy all of my drinks. He doesn’t check me out when he thinks nobody is watching, and he doesn’t smirk like a cat that got into the cream when I smile at his smartass jokes.”

Riza tilts her face up, grateful for the cool night breeze on her flushed skin. “When you say it like that...”

Rebecca looks at her curiously. “Why do you sound so disappointed?” she asks. “You told me about the way you felt about Mustang, growing up. You should be jumping for joy that he’s clearly interested in you. Don’t you want to be with him now?”

Riza keeps her eyes straight ahead. “My wants have no place in this.”

“Don’t give me that, Ri.”  

Riza sighs. “There’s just no place for it, Rebecca. It could have happened when we were teenagers, before he joined the military, or if I hadn’t enlisted. But now he’s my commanding officer. There’s the anti-fraternization regulations. And we’re working towards things that are more important than any petty, personal wants or desires. Nothing can stand in the way of that.”

“Sure,” Rebecca says, sounding unconvinced.

“Enough about me.” Riza nudges her. “What happened on your date with Rikert? Were you able to get over that mustache?”

“It’s funny you ask…”

-

Riza tries extra hard to maintain professional boundaries with Colonel Mustang after that. She skips Friday night team dinners twice in a row. She refuses to let herself think about him at all after work hours (especially at night, in bed). She redirects herself to mentally disassembling and reassembling different models of guns whenever she catches herself admiring anything about his personality in a way that strays too far from the platonic admiration and devotion their entire team has for him.

“Can Catalina or anyone else on the team look after Hayate this weekend?” Colonel Mustang asks casually, driving her home one Tuesday after a late night at the office. “I’d like you to accompany me on an undercover mission to Maastritcht. There’s an information broker there that I’d prefer to meet in person.”

Riza glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She opens her mouth and then closes it, reconsidering her instinctive denial. Damn him. As his bodyguard, she can’t refuse to go with him, or suggest another member of the team step in for her on this assignment. Colonel Mustang keeps his eyes on the road ahead, his demeanor casual, but she is sure he knows that as well as she does.

“Rebecca’s visiting her parents this weekend, but Havoc will be able to watch Hayate,” she says shortly, glancing out of the window, taking in the yellow light from the streetlamps as they pool on the dark roads. “Do you think this is a good idea, sir?”

“Of course it is,” Colonel Mustang replies blithely. “I really should meet this man in person. Not everyone is as adept at speaking in code over the telephone as we are.”

Riza takes a deep breath, willing herself to be patient. If this was any other man, she’d snap at him to cut the crap. “That’s not what I mean, sir.”

“Oh?” They come to a stop in front of her apartment, and Colonel Mustang parks the car and turns to look at her. “What do you mean, then?”

There is a challenge in his eyes, and Riza suddenly feels exhausted. She can’t have this discussion, this fight, now. She has already had it with herself too often, and she can’t face it with him now. Roy (back when he was just Roy) always knew what to say to push her buttons, crack through her stoic facade, out-logic her logic. “Nothing, sir,” she says, leaning over and grabbing her bag from the floor beneath her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

-

Riza leaves work on Friday, collects her things and Hayate, and drops her smallest friend off at Havoc’s apartment. Jean is in high spirits, crowing about how hanging around the park with such a cute pup will definitely help him collect a lot of phone numbers from the ladies.

“I know he’ll be in good hands with you,” Riza says, giving Hayate a scratch behind the ears. “But no ice cream for him this time, okay? Now he begs for it shamelessly whenever Rebecca and I stop for a cone.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Havoc grins. “And hey, you and the Colonel be safe up there in Maastritcht, all right?”

Riza nods. “Of course. We’ll be back late Sunday night.”

“I’d say you know you can call us if you need backup, but I know that the Colonel won’t need backup since he’s with you.”

Riza smiles and bids them farewell. As she departs, she spares a moment for gratitude that nobody on the team is at all questioning of the closeness that she and Colonel Mustang share. Not a single one of them has ever made any sort of comment, question, or innuendo about their relationship or the amount of time that they spend together. Colonel Mustang really had picked not just the best soldiers, but the best men, to serve on his team.

She stops in at a deserted public restroom near the train station and assumes her disguise. A colorful scarf wrapped loosely around her head, hiding the distinctive haircut, and long, dangling earrings. Glasses. A suede skirt, cream-colored sweater, dark tights and coat, and boots that come up to her knees. She looks different enough from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye in her blue military uniform, and not as different as she’d like from Riza Hawkeye in her civilian clothes. Undercover operations are the only time she wishes that she were an alchemist. Changing her hair color and length would be a blessing.

Riza finds Colonel Mustang at the train station, at Gate C15, just as they had discussed earlier. There’s only a few other people at the gate. Two elderly ladies and a middle-aged man in a battered jacket, frowning at a newspaper. Riza glances them over quickly, discreetly, assessing and analyzing. She judges their clothing and possessions for the ability to conceal hidden weapons, their body language, facial expressions, demeanor, physical fitness for combat. They aren’t spies, she determines after a moment, and her shoulders relax somewhat.

Colonel Mustang smiles slightly at her reaction as she approaches. Of course he had noticed her risk assessment. He has pointed out to her before, in a way both teasing and admiring, about how she does that every single time she enters a space, whether it’s a train station, a park, or a cafe. He is dressed in civilian clothes, like her.

“You look nice, Elizabeth,” he greets, stepping close and pressing a kiss to her cheek, as any lover would do.

Riza rests a hand on his chest, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. Spice and citrus, as familiar to her as the scent of her firearm polish. “You as well, Rhys.”

They have played this a few times before. It feels different now, after the undercurrents that have swirled around and between them for the past several weeks. At least, it does to her.

Colonel Mustang steps back, though he’s still rather close to her. “Ready for this weekend?” he asks, and then grins. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” Riza replies dryly. “Remind me when and where we’re meeting our friend tomorrow?”

“Noon, for a walk in Arnsberg Park.” Colonel Mustang glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m hoping that Russell then introduces us to that other friend of his I mentioned. We’ll encourage him to do so, anyway.”

Arnsberg Park… It hadn’t been her first choice for a meeting location. Too open and insecure. Countless opportunities for this Russell person to hide his colleagues in the forested area around the park and attempt to ambush them. To reassure herself, Riza immediately catalogues the weaponry she had brought along. 1873 Buntline Target in her purse, Akdal Ghost TR-01 and Alfa-Proj Model 3520 in her bag, knife in her left boot, Colt Detective Special in her right.

Colonel Mustang bursts out laughing. “I think the encouragement won’t involve what you have in mind, Elizabeth.”

Riza feels her face warm slightly. “How did you know?”

Colonel Mustang taps his forehead. “Oh, you get this dreamy, faraway look in your eyes when you think about your favorite things,” he says. “Just like a woman in love.”

“Similar to the look you get when you’re supposed to be working, but you’re thinking about going out drinking with Colonel Hughes and then toilet-papering senior leaderships’ houses afterwards?”

“...Yes.”

Riza sighs. “It’s going to be a long weekend.”

“Really, Elizabeth,” Colonel Mustang sniffs. “It’ll be the most fun we’ve had in a long while. I promise you that.”

-

The train ride to Maastritcht takes them two and a half hours north. Riza reads a novel, the latest in The Cases of Eddie Drake series. Breda had lent her the first book in the series last year, and she had read the next six in a matter of months. Colonel Mustang sits beside her and reads over her shoulder, claiming that he can’t work in a moving train because it gives him motion sickness. (“Rhys, that is obviously a lie. You’re reading right now.”)

It is dark and snowing when they disembark. Thankfully, the snow isn’t as heavy nor is the air as cold as it is in Briggs. Maastritcht is a truly tiny town that reminds Riza of where she had grown up. She looks around, committing the streets and shops around them to memory, forming a mental map. She is so preoccupied that she doesn’t notice Colonel Mustang take her arm at first.

Riza glances up at him. “You’re restricting my movement in case of an emergency, Rhys.”

The colonel scoffs. “As if you wouldn’t be able to shake me off and arm yourself in an instant. Besides…” He gestures to the empty streets. “I think chances are low that there will be an emergency.”

Riza doesn’t shrug him off. His warmth is welcome on this cold night. And it feels good to be walking with him like this. For a little while, she can pretend. They can pretend.

For the first time, she divorces herself from her discomfort at this situation and thinks of it through Colonel Mustang’s - Roy’s - eyes. If he does have feelings for her… To content himself with takeout dinners while working late, the contact of sitting close to one another in a crowded booth while out to dinner with their colleagues, the brief moments of intimacy while on an undercover mission…

These must be small, hollow comforts for him. Scraps, to someone who longs for a meal. Despite the confusion and frustration she’s felt over the last several weeks, her heart goes out to him.

Riza holds his arm a little tighter, ignoring the voice in her head that warns her that she is playing a dangerous game.

They reach their inn a little while later. It is small and plain and smells faintly of cabbage. Still, Riza breathes a sigh of relief at being inside from the cold, blowing on her hands to warm them as Colonel Mustang picks up the key to their upstairs room from the front desk.

“I hope it’s warmer in our room,” he says. “I know that we’re quite far north, but this is unseasonably cold.”

“At least it’s not as bad as Briggs.”

“Of course it’s not, since General Armstrong isn’t here.” Colonel Mustang shudders. “That terrifying woman… I’m so glad our Major Armstrong has a more amiable personality.”

“I think she’s an inspiring leader,” Riza defends. “And she gave me a few valuable lessons in hand-to-hand combat.”

Colonel Mustang opens the door to their room and flicks on the light, and Riza trails off as they enter. The tiny size of the room doesn’t give her pause, or the threadbare covers and rug. The single bed does.

“Oh,” Colonel Mustang says, lost for words for once in his life, as he shuts the door behind them. “Well, I can sleep on the floor.”

“Nonsense,” Riza says briskly, recovering. “You’re my commanding officer. I’m happy to give the bed to you.”

“That wouldn’t be chivalrous of me at all.” The colonel shrugs off his coat and drops his bag to the ground, placing the room keys on the battered nightstand beside the door. “I suppose we’ll have to share, then.”

Riza can’t help but shoot a suspicious glance his way, and Colonel Mustang raises his hands as if to defend himself. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, Elizabeth.”

“The things I would do to you, if they wouldn’t be considered insubordination…” Riza mutters.

Colonel Mustang grins, and Riza has to shove her hands into her pockets to keep from punching him in the arm. “You know what I meant!”

“Regrettably, I do.” Colonel Mustang rolls his eyes. “Every now and then when I do dishes, I still remember you splashing the dirty dishwater at me as retaliation for making some bad joke or another.”

“You deserved it. Every time. And you still do.”

They should wash up and go to bed. They’re on an assignment for work, after all. Besides, she should take Colonel Mustang to the park well before their noon meeting time to scope it out. Instead Riza sits down beside him on the bed, and they reminisce until he falls asleep, leaning back against the headboard, fully clothed.

Riza eases him down into a more comfortable position, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back, and draws the comforter around him. It’s all so intimate, but this isn’t the first time that she’s tucked Colonel Mustang into bed. This is, however, the first time he’s been sober.

She looks down at him. He frowns in his sleep as he usually does, lines appearing on his forehead. Riza reaches down and smooths them away, a feather-light touch. She remembers herself, then, and jerks back, as if burned.

She gets ready for bed as quietly as possible and lies down with her back to Colonel Mustang, her hands pressed underneath her pillow. Even though she is exhausted, even though her work day had started seventeen hours ago, it takes an eternity for her to fall asleep.

-

The operation the next day goes flawlessly. Russell is an excellent information broker, and he introduces them to one of his colleagues. Best of all, the two of them seem trustworthy enough, and nothing untoward happens.

After the meeting, both of them return to their room in the inn. They sit down on the bed, facing one another, and begin to work.

Riza prefers exact transcriptions of conversations, as they are valuable to review after the fact and spot inconsistencies or untruths, while Colonel Mustang prefers detailed summaries. Honed after years of practice and lessons with Falman, Riza’s memory allows her to more or less transcribe the entire conversation. She does so, reciting the words softly to herself as she writes fast, in the secret shorthand their unit had developed. As she talks, he summarizes, adding notes and action items for when they return to East City and next time work takes them to Central.

Though she’s no stranger to this kind of work, by the time they’re finished, Riza’s mouth is dry and her hands ache. She massages her writing hand. “Done,” she says.

“We’ll have a lot of interesting leads to pursue next time we’re in Central,” Colonel Mustang replies. His gaze lingers on her hands. “Have I overworked you, Elizabeth?”

“Never. Though I wouldn’t turn down something to drink.”

Colonel Mustang stands and offers her a hand. “I’ll do you one better and get dinner for us.”

Night had fallen while they had been at work, but at least the bar is just a couple of streets away. It’s small, dimly lit, smoky, and crowded, though they find a small booth at the back. Riza is torn, as she always is in a crowded area. More people means more potential threats to assess. But the many intermingling conversations and raised voices around them, and the music playing from a gramophone nearby, ensures privacy and the ability to speak without being overheard, within reason.

She leans back into the booth, looking around at their surroundings, identifying potential emergency exits, until Colonel Mustang arrives. He holds a couple of beers and their food, having some difficulty balancing it all. “Sorry, they didn’t have your preferred drinks,” he says, setting the items down on the table and sliding in beside her. “But I thought this would make up for it.”

Riza brightens, leaning over their food and taking a deep breath in. They hadn’t had lunch due to the noon meeting with the broker, and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now. “Chicken pot pie,” she says. “Just like we used to do for New Year’s.”

“I know we’re a couple of months early,” Colonel Mustang says, passing her a fork. “But it seemed appropriate, considering our conversation yesterday.”

“It’s perfect.”

They dig into the pie, and when it’s finished, Colonel Mustang raises his glass to her. “To a successful weekend away,” he says, giving her the smile that always makes her melt. “Thank you for accompanying me, Elizabeth. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Rhys.” Riza clinks her glass against his, and curses herself for the could-be-construed-as-flirtatious reply. This is why she hates going undercover with him.

She expects some sort of smart comment from him in reply. Instead, Colonel Mustang takes a long draft of his beer, and sets the glass down on the splintering table somewhat harder than necessary. “I went on a date last weekend,” he says, staring down into the glass.

“I know,” Riza replies, slightly thrown by the non sequitur. “You came over to my place afterwards and insisted that I help you with the notes.” He had brought her food, too - an extra steak and salad, and piece of tiramisu, from the restaurant where he and Camilla had met.

“Yeah.” Colonel Mustang runs a hand through his hair. “I focused as best as I could. It was basically a work meeting, after all. But there was this one moment, where I was distracted - and I realized I hadn’t been on a real date in years. Not since before Ishval.”

Riza nods. “It’s been the same for me,” she confesses, and Colonel Mustang looks at her out of the corner of his eye. She has the feeling that he’s surprised, but pleased, to hear it.

“There’s just no time,” he says.

“Yes,” Riza agrees, guarded. “There’s no time for it at all.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t feel right.” Colonel Mustang takes a deep breath, and turns to face her.

“Sir,” Riza whispers, slipping out of their cover, hoping the reminder of her station and his will be enough to derail him. Her shoulders tense. “Please don’t.”

“Getting to know someone,” Colonel Mustang begins, ignoring her. “Is like learning a new language, or starting out on a long journey. Don’t you think so? There’s so much to learn about them. There’s so much they have to learn about you.”

“Rhys--”

“I think of starting from the beginning, with someone, and it doesn’t feel right,” he says. There’s a slightly pained look on his face. “Not when there’s someone who already knows me so well, that I know so well. Someone I can read just by looking into her eyes. Noticing the way she’s standing or the expression on her face.”

“You have to,” Riza says, in a hushed voice.

“I can’t,” Colonel Mustang says tersely. “How could I try to form another relationship with a clear conscience, when I compare every woman to you, and find them lacking in every way?”

Riza swallows over her dry throat, suddenly lost for words. He takes advantage of that, and places his hand on hers - her fingers tightly interlaced in front of her - and she almost jumps. “Your intelligence, skill, compassion, empathy, loyalty, devotion,” Colonel Mustang continues quietly, and a fraction of a smile touches his lips. “Your looks. Damn it, Elizabeth, I trust you with my life, to always look out for me, and I know you have the same trust in me. How is anybody else supposed to compete with that?”

Riza pulls her hands away. “Find a way,” she says, blinking away angry tears. Damn him for doing this to her, for putting both of them in this position.

“The reason I’ve been so bold with you is because I believe you share my feelings. Do you?” he presses. “If you don’t, I’ll never say a word about this again. We’ll pretend it never happened.”

She should lie, but she’s never been able to lie to him. Besides, lying goes against their code of conduct with one another. “Yes,” Riza whispers bitterly. “I do.”

Colonel Mustang studies her with that intense, unblinking stare he fixes on problems that must be solved. “Then can you tell me, honestly, that you believe what you were just saying earlier? That you’d be completely unaffected by another woman being as important a part of my life as you are?”

Riza averts her eyes, refusing to answer. Colonel Mustang sighs. “I know that I would loathe it, if I had a rival for your time, attention, emotions… Just the thought actually drives me insane.”

Riza tilts her head back, willing the tears to stop welling in her eyes. She had dreamed of Roy confessing his feelings to her for a good part of her teenage years. This is coming years too late.

“It doesn’t matter,” she snaps, re-focusing on the present. “Whatever we feel for each other. The anti-fraternization law prevents us from becoming involved on any level more than the professional. Even more so because you’re my commanding officer - you’d be court-martialed and I’d be dishonorably discharged.”

“Yes,” Colonel Mustang says. “If we’re caught.”

Riza stares at him, aghast. “You’re not saying…”

He leans back against the booth, trying to affect his usual, casual posture, but she can see how tense his shoulders are, the white in his knuckles as he grips his glass. “I am,” he replies.

Riza shakes her head. “The consequences are too severe. They would shatter the goal we’ve committed ourselves to.”

Colonel Mustang actually smirks a little. “Then we just have to avoid getting caught, don’t we?”

“I can’t believe you’re being so cavalier about this, sir,” Riza hisses, her voice barely audible over the music still playing and the conversations around them.

The levity fades from the colonel’s expression. “If you knew how many hours, how many sleepless nights, I’ve spent thinking about this, you wouldn’t throw such an unjust accusation at me.”

They stare at each other, at an impasse. ���I won’t settle for less than you,” Colonel Mustang says softly, finally. “I refuse to. And you and I are going to be by one another’s sides for the long term. Years. Decades. We can’t keep dancing around this and contenting ourselves with half measures. Neither of us will be truly happy. And neither of us will be truly happy with someone else.”

“That’s part of the reason why I’m so concerned,” Riza murmurs. “I’ve committed to serve by your side until you reach your goal--”

“And after I’ve attained it.”

“It could take years, or decades, as you’ve said.” Riza pauses. “If we begin--” she whispers, almost shuddering at how tawdry it sounds, how unlike her, “--an affair, and it ends, especially if it ends poorly - that jeopardizes the working relationship that is so precious to us, that we value so much.”

“Ah, Elizabeth.” To her surprise, Colonel Mustang - Roy, there’s no point in continuing to think of him only as Colonel Mustang now that he’s smashed the barriers she had put up so thoroughly - smiles tenderly at her. “I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

It takes her a moment to catch his meaning, and when she does, she blushes. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“Well, yes. Have you met me?” Roy puts his hand on hers again. This time, Riza can’t bring herself to pull away. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says quietly. “No matter what you may think, I haven’t deluded myself about any of this. There will be a lot that we have to worry about. It will be very difficult. It won’t look like a normal relationship. But that is one thing you don’t have to be concerned about.”

Riza stares at their hands on the table, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what has happened tonight. Her insides literally ache with turmoil. Don’t, every sensible part of her is screaming. It’s her job to keep Roy out of trouble, after all. He might be hurt if she turns him down now, but it will be for the best.

If they go through with this, it will be a terrible and unnecessary complication in her life. In both of their lives. It is just asking for disaster. It’s unprofessional. She had been the most accomplished student in her year at the academy; she’s the best sniper in the country. She is not the kind of officer that screws her commander.

Riza closes her eyes, feeling the weight of Roy’s eyes on her, trying to block out the rest of the distractions and stimulation around her.

It’s the lyrics coming through the gramophone that crumble her resolve, longing and plaintive, a repeated refrain, if you were mine--

Riza opens her eyes, takes Roy by the lapels of his coat, pulls him close, and kisses him.

They had shared kisses every New Year, when she had been fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen. Every year, they would walk into town to attend the celebration and watch the fireworks. She still remembers it like it was yesterday; that first year, standing in the crowd, suddenly surrounded by laughing children and kissing couples.

I guess it’s some kind of tradition.

For good luck, Roy had replied, and before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her.

They never kissed again, or talked about it, until the next year’s celebrations. The same was true in the year after that. Every kiss had been a little longer than the year before. There was the unspoken understanding between them that it was inappropriate. Her father would have been enraged if he found out, and would have ended Roy’s apprenticeship. Even back then, though, when she knew so little and had just been an inexperienced girl, it felt right. Natural. Perfect, for all of those few, fleeting moments. She had never wanted it to stop.

It feels just as right now, but different.

Instead of holding back, Roy makes a small, involuntary sound against her lips and reaches out, running his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head in his hand, and the touch makes Riza shiver. He kisses her hard, hungrily, like he’s finally getting something he had been starved of. She unclasps her hands from his coat, flattening her palms and running them up to his shoulders. It feels surreal, to be touching him like this, to feel the warmth of his mouth on hers, the strength of his shoulders underneath her hands. It feels amazing and surreal that it is happening in real life, after all the countless times she’s spent dreaming about it.

Riza presses her hands against his chest, gently pushing him back. “I think we should leave,” she says quietly, in response to the question in his eyes.

Roy smiles at her. “You’re always full of good ideas, Elizabeth.”

They leave the bar hand-in-hand, and it feels so good to do that openly. Riza has no illusions that this can never happen when they’re back home and back to their normal lives. She savors the warmth of Roy’s hand in hers.

It’s snowing hard outside, the snowflakes powdering their coats within moments, standing out sharply against Roy’s dark hair. He looks at her, and then actually stops in the middle of the road, cups her face in both of his hands, and kisses her again.

“What was that for?” Riza asks, breathless, when they emerge from the embrace.

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes. We shouldn’t be so frivolous.”

Roy laughs at her straight-faced retort. “It doesn’t snow in East City or Central,” he points out. “And we don’t go to Briggs often. I figured I should kiss you in the snow while we have the chance.”

Riza sighs, but she can’t keep the smile off her face. “You’re such a romantic.”

They stop every half block to steal kisses. Briefly, they stumble into an alleyway, Riza’s hands firm as she pushes him against the stone wall. They dart back out just as quickly when a fox trots from the depths of the alley, emanating a series of disturbing, shrieking calls, which makes Roy yelp and jump half into Riza’s arms.

The inn’s front desk is empty. After looking back and forth to see if there is anyone else in the vicinity, Roy sweeps her up into his arms.

“Do you see a fox?” Riza asks, nudging him in the side. “You know, I can still walk.”

Roy frowns down at her with mock seriousness. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time--”

Riza feels a momentary thrill at the fact that she hadn’t been the only one who has wanted this for so long. “Undoubtedly, while you were supposed to be working.”

“Irrelevant,” Roy says nonchalantly. “Now, my dear Elizabeth, let me live out the fantasy properly.”

“As you wish, Rhys.”

Roy carries her back to their room, unlocks the door, and Riza kisses him as he gently sets her back on her feet. She feels a vague sensation of surprise that she isn’t nervous at all, even though she’s never done this before. And she isn’t nervous about tomorrow morning. There is no fear of awkwardness, of things between them being ruined. She trusts him, them, with that, with the same certainty that they trust each other with everything.

“Riza,” Roy murmurs, sliding her coat off, caressing the curve of her waist, her hips. But it’s the sound of her name on his lips that makes her gasp. “No titles. No cover names. Not here. Please.”

“Roy,” Riza whispers, testing it out on her lips, and in her mind. The lines, the boundaries, were already blurred. After tonight, they will be broken beyond repair.

She locks the door with a soft click.

-

When you guys eventually hook up, are you afraid that it won’t live up to your expectations?

That will never happen, Rebecca.

Okay, fine. If you guys ever hook up, are you afraid that it won’t live up to your expectations? Since you’ve wanted it for so long?

...I’ve never thought about that.

You know, I can tell when you’re lying to me.

I wasn’t lying. I meant that I never even considered that it wouldn’t be what I imagined.

Oh, Riza. You’ve got it so bad.

-

Sex feels just as right as having Roy’s back, as working with him, as kissing him. In so many ways, the course of her life has shifted in parallel to his. Growing up, she had always assumed she would become a teacher, but then she had enlisted in the military academy because of his vision of protecting the people of Amestris as a soldier. Continued serving after the horror of Ishval because of him. Working by his side has shaped her entire professional career and adult life.

The famous Hawk’s Eye. I heard you’ve turned down two promotions in favor of staying on Mustang’s team, General Armstrong said, when they had met, looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Such devotion.

It feels natural to share this with him, as well.

-

They linger over breakfast the next morning at Maastricht’s sole, small cafe. Roy holds her hand the entire time. Both of them have to eat their eggs and bacon one-handed, which is ridiculous, but Riza doesn’t complain. They look into each other’s eyes and neither of them has to say that this kind of openness won’t, can’t, happen again.

-

to be continued

-

[shieldedsouls]

family mattters: dum dum dugan, part one

under the cut are the members of dugan’s immediate family. each will have an icon, their fc, and full name listed. additional information will include: birthdates, marriage dates, and line of relation. blurbs will vary in length. does not include in-laws, nieces, or nephews.

note: all listed are relevant npcs, and potential guest muses.

THERE IS HEAVY/DARK CONTENT AT VARYING LEVEL OF DESCRIPTION BELOW THIS CUT. TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING: underage pregnancy, abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, alcoholism

fc: christian slater name: roy august dugan nickname(s): pop / (behind his back): rat, augh, various swears and displeased sounds height: 5′10 dob: 21 january 1883 dod: 19 november 1947 unknown relation: father married: 20 may 1910 to alice anne meredith blurb: oldest of three. only boy. chainsmoker. poacher. heavy drinker. cheats at cards. cynic. always right no matter what, never to blame. stalker. played nice til alice married him. controlling. will burn a book before he reads it. penny-pincher. never late to church. slow to anger, slower to calm back down; always on simmer. manipulator. happiest when hunting. no one is off-limits to him. only hunts alone. vitriolic with neighbours. yells whether angry or not. keeps the only keys in the house.

fc: eleanor tomlinson name: alis alice anne dugan nee meredith nickname(s): allie, merry anne, mamma, angel alice height: 5′8 dob: 22 april 1893 dod: 22 april 1927 relation: mother married: 20 may 1910 to roy august dugan blurb: youngest of five girls. loves the color green. naive. loyal to a fault. her children are the light of her life. never looks worse than tired ( in public ). believes in equal raising and equal opportunity. adoring mother. pleaser. soft-hearted. always has something to share with someone else, no matter what. repeated victim of marital rape. loves big families. allergic to cats but loves them anyway too. comes from a tall family.

fc: todd lowe name: matthew patrick gerald dugan nickname(s): matt height: 6′ dob: 10 march 1911 relation: brother; first-born; oldest boy ( 1st of 10 ) married:  15 june 1935 to annabelle clay blurb: strong silent type. selectively mute until about age 6. good with numbers. has four daughters and three sons. never touches alcohol. family first. enjoys wood-working. always helps set up and take down ( first to arrive and last to leave ). prefers long-sleeves. feeds the strays. won’t leave someone behind. gets the wheels going.

fc: domhnall gleeson name: thomas gideon dugan nickname(s): tommy height: 6′2 dob: 5 february 1913 relation: brother; younger ( 3rd of 10 ) married: 14 july 1934 to natalie tylers blurb: perfect handwriting. nimble fingers. favourite colour is blue. enjoys beaches. perfect forger. decent card-player, specifically rummy. well-behaved mostly. always carries a pack of smokes, rarely uses it. has two daughters and two sons. always humming some tune or another. drinks socially, occasionally. loves to organise.

fc: rupert grint name: robert cadogan dugan nickname(s): bobby, rob, rc height: 6′ dob: 29 october 1914 relation: brother; younger ( 4th of 10 ) married: 28 july 1933 to patricia day blurb: has three daughters and loves them more than the world. thinks big dogs are the best. knows every magic trick in the books, and plenty off the books. rubbish at dancing but likes to go anyway. refers to his wife and daughters as ‘the best treasures of my life’. hates to read, loves hearing stories. winds up in law enforcement and largely enjoys it.

fc: kj apa name: john emrys dugan nickname(s): johnny, jd, jed height: 6′2 dob: 17 september 1915 married: 19 june 1936 to sierra swanson in minnesota relation: brother; younger; 1st twin ( 5th of 10 ) blurb: natural gymnast. always grinning. only cheats when playing cards with his twin. always has a plan. has four sons and one daughter. loves dancing. only fights for real when someone else is in danger. left-handed. knows how to draw perfect shapes, including circles. worms his way into eventually teaching maths.

fc: kj apa name: nicolas glynn dugan nickname(s): nick, nicky, nico height: 6′2 dob: 17 september 1915 married: 22 june 1935 to cheyenne miller in minnesota relation: brother; younger; 2nd twin ( 6th of 10 ) blurb: always has a plan b. climber. learned to be a gymnast. literally always has an ace up his sleeve. tussles with his twin are the best. picks up a handful of magic tricks. has four sons and five daughters. can pick any lock. escape artist. ambidextrous. often found doing extra work on nearby farms for extra cash.

fc: jessica chastain name:  dorothea marion johnston nee dugan nickname(s): dotty, dorothy, may dot, dea height: 5′11 dob: 26 september 1919 relation: sister; younger; oldest girl ( 7th of 10 ) married: 27 november 1937 to ryan johnston blurb: has two sons. unfortunately perfect memory. can make clothing look practically new. becomes a nurse. unofficially was in charge of first aid while in the circus. always can spare a smile. started the now sibling-wide habit of writing to everyone and keeping regular contact. brilliant cook but can’t bake to save her life. has a mean left hook. only reads what she can learn activities from. grounded.

fc: julie mcniven name:  vivian mae meyers nee dugan nickname(s): vi, violet height: 5′10 dob: 31 july 1920 relation: sister; younger ( 8th of 10 ) married: 28 august 1942 to taron meyers blurb: seamstress. can work disasters into miracles. likes to quilt in downtime. dislikes dum dum’s taste for cigars yet always sends him a box of his favourites for christmas. has five daughters and one son. always has room for holiday cheer. listens to the radio before going to bed.

fc: cameron monaghan name:  michael gwylim dugan nickname(s): mike, mikey height: 6′3 dob: 5 june 1921 relation: brother; youngest boy ( 9th of 10 ) married: 14 august 1954 to madeline roux in pennsylvania blurb: never misses with blade or arrow. always wins staring contests. has one son and two daughters. stands against what’s wrong. learns french and pieces of mandarin from his wife. freckles but never burns. pain scale not to be trusted. never too hot or too cold no matter the weather.

fc: bella thorne name:  elaine lee drake nee dugan nickname(s): lainey, elee, ellie height: 5′10 dob: 8 june 1923 relation: sister; last-born; youngest girl ( 10th of 10 ) married:  28 april 1950 to samuel drake in kansas blurb: animal-lover. works best with horses and canines. works well with all ages. won’t start a fight but will end it. has two daughters and four sons. hates wearing shoes. acrobat by instinct and practice. knows how to throw knives. teaches all her children how to hunt with a bow. learns to cook well from her husband. likes to keep busy. loves the spotlight.

[crossroadsimagine]

💐hi! can i get a tokyo ghoul, fma, and naruto matchup? male please ♥️. im 5'1, hate my height, have blue and purple hair, a lil chubby. i am an anxious mess around new people but open up as an annoyingly excited and cheerful person. im a huge animal lover, i have cats, bugs, a dog, and a toad as pets. i tend to talk a lot and ramble about my passions and dream job(mortician) i can be a great listener and i tend to be the mom friend in groups. (sorry for my english, my mother tongue is german!)

☰ Matched with Kiba

Kiba will show an almost immediate interest in you romantically and he really won’t even try to hide it, though he doesn’t flat out ask you out but he will show a real interest in wanting to get to know you better, this means he’ll try to spend more time around you, go on more missions with you, train with you, or try to get you to do things like go out for lunch or just to walk you home. 

He won’t come on too strong but enough to grab your attention especially if you have an easy time noticing when someone is trying to flirt with you, because he will lightly flirt with you but he will wait to ask you out until he knows you better which means it could be a few weeks before he acts you out and when he does he is clearly shy and embarrassed about asking you out but he will just kind of ask you bluntly and won’t waste time once he decides to ask you out. 

Once the two of you do begin dating he is extremely loyal and faithful to you immediately, you will never have to worry about him straying or looking at others because when he falls for you he falls hard and will want to plan a future with you within weeks or months of dating. However, he won’t push you to talk about a future together because he won’t want to actually bring it up with you too soon and make you uncomfortable, but he won’t see a future without you. 

You are relatively short though Kiba isn’t on the really tall side so there isn’t a huge gap in height difference, in fact it’s not a big enough difference for Kiba to really even say anything about so you will not have to worry about him teasing you for your height. 

He will compliment you on occasion especially for special occasions such as any time that the two of you are dressed differently or dressed more fancy, like if he doesn’t see you in a dress very often he will tell you how beautiful you look when he sees you in a dress. He adores your appearance and loves your unique hair colors and the way you look as a whole but your looks don’t matter to him nearly as much as your personality, that’s what truly makes him fall in love with you. 

You can be an anxious mess around new people but he’ll have seen this side of you when he first meets you and finds you adorable and just wants to help and comfort you when you are feeling shy or anxious. When you do open up you can be excited and cheerful almost to an annoying extent at times but you will never annoy him or bother Kiba in the slightest because he loves to see you happy and cheerful, he’ll want you to be comfortable around him and feel safe and comfortable enough to be yourself when you are with him. 

You are a big animal lover which is important because he does have Akamaru who will be very loving and affectionate towards you, and very protective over you as well and can even act protective over you and bark or growl at people that could be dangerous to you. Kiba can be a good listener when he wants to be but he can also talk a lot and ramble at times too especially when he’s annoyed or mad about something, he can also be affected by how you are feeling relatively easily. Like if you are angry about something, he can become mad about it too, or if you are feeling happy and enthusiastic, he can feed off that energy and feel the same way too. 

He’ll love listening to you talk about your day, things you love and what you are passionate about, and you can be the same way and tend to be a great listener and often act a bit like a mom friend in a group, which can also help to keep him from doing something stupid at times. 

He is very loving, supportive and encouraging because he wants you to be happy and fight for anything you want to achieve in life, whether it’s your dream career or smaller goals like learning a language or learning a skill like cooking. He will help to encourage and motivate you however he can, he is a life time partner who stays by your side no matter what happens and will love you through thick and thin.

☰ Headcanons between the two of you

■ Has a habit of teasing you or being sarcastic with you but at the same time he can be over protective of you and get annoyed if anyone else teases you in any way. He can be very quick to jump in and defend you or get snippy towards anyone who tries to tease you or be sarcastic with you.

■ Is very affectionate and can easily unintentionally embarrass you if you are shy to PDA because he doesn’t mind PDA one bit and can hug, cuddle, lean against you or hold hands with you in public, he really doesn’t even mind kissing in public but won’t push things too far if you get uncomfortable or embarrassed.

■ Has a tendency to touch your head and your hair pretty frequently especially when he’s trying to instigate some affectionate or loving acts with you, especially when the two of you are alone and he can almost become offended sometimes if you don’t like to be close or cuddly with him from time to time.

■ Can go out of his way to try and impress you or gain your attention especially if you’ve been busy lately or preoccupied with others, such as going out with friends a lot lately or spending more time with family, because he can get a bit jealous and needy for your attention but also won’t stop you from spending time with others.

☰ Other Possible Matches

◐ Renji

He is calm, caring and respectful he will also always be very supportive of things you want to do or goals you have, willing to help you however he can and very comforting when you are going through rough times. He tends to give very good advice when you need it and encourages you to talk about your problems or frustrations even if you just need to vent about something annoying that happened during the day. He enjoys talking with you and listening to you talk about your interests and passions and won’t mind one bit if you ramble on and on for hours. He is affectionate but really only when the two of you are alone because he really won’t like PDA much and doesn’t really care to make the relationship too public either.

◐ Roy

He is very protective, dedicated and caring and sometimes worries about your safety a little too much which can make him seem a little secretive at times or even possessive because he won’t want to tell you something that he feels could put you in danger simply because of his line of work. But he is very open and honest with you in other regards and has no problems telling you or showing you how he feels about you when the two of you are alone. He is not very interested in PDA and will only really respond to or be affectionate with you when the two of you are alone. He is a good listener and likes to hear you talk about things you like or what you are passionate about.

[spacerangersam]

Into The Deep

The first chapter of a very short story about a sailor girl being saved and falling in love with a mermaid-selkie hybrid (partially edited for now)

It took three months on a boat for Piper to decide that she hated sailing.

She was draped across the battered sofa in her cabin, socked feet dangling over the top as her head lay on a pillow on the floor. Her ginger hair was quickly coming loose from the low braid she had pulled it into at the beginning of the day, stray curls tickling her nose and neck.

Outside she could hear the rain hammering against the wood, and prayed to all the gods she knew there wouldn’t be a leak. Who knows when they’d be able to fix it, the storm seemed to be neverending.

She squinted at the words she had previously been attempting to read, holding the book in the air in one hand, and adjusting her glasses with the other. The words once clear, were now blurry and beginning to fade into the darkness of the cabin. The lanterns never did last as long as she wanted, she mused. Perhaps this was a sign that she ought to rest her aching eye;  she had been reading for a while. But what else was there to do on a stinking on ship miles away from any port during a thunderstorm?

She reluctantly put the book down, though did not move from her position. Her limbs now felt as heavy as the anchor of the ship, holding her down to the floor. Her bed seemed a mile away, and so she gave in and accepted the chair as her resting place tonight.

As she closed her eyes, the noise got louder and more intense. She could hear the thundering rain, the crashing waves and the howling wind, though muffled thanks to the thick wood. She could hear the loud obnoxious cheers and songs of the men above her, as they drunk and wailed out old sailor songs that sounded crude upon their jagged tongues. It pierced through the floor and the door, pricking at her skin like an unturned nail.

Her brother, she decided, was dead. As soon as they got to port, she was chucking him overboard, stealing his lovely new boots, and never coming back to that blasted ship.

She could have been doing anything right now. She could be dancing with the ladies in Mr Roy’s grand garden, playing pretend and having tea parties with the children, and sharing stories of Daniel failed love affairs with his new wife, but no.

Here she was. Cold, uncomfortable and unable to sleep.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said.

Speak of the devil, and he comes a-calling. Piper clicked her tongue as her brother stumbled in, his freckled face flushed and his dark eyes glassy.

“Piper! Why'yr not drinking wivus?”

“You said I’m not allowed.”

He frowned.

“Did I?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s a miracle I’m allowed to breathe.”

“Courseya hafta breaf. Die otherwise.”

Piper rolled her eyes and forced herself up onto her feet.

She didn’t like looking at Daniel. It was like looking into a slightly smudged mirror. They had the same deathly pale complexion, the same splatter of freckles, the same dark eyes. The same oval face, the same long, skinny, bony limbs.

Her mother had been so happy to have identical twins. Luckily, she had been even more excited to learn she had a girl. But it still left a burn in the bottom of her gut like a shot of whiskey whenever she looked too long at her brother.

It had gotten better over time, as they received different scars and bruises, but still.

“Wha' da want?” Piper asked.

Daniel burped.

“Cap'n wans ya. Upper deck. New log.”

“Alright, I’ll go. Now leave, the men’ll be missing you.”

"Won' youse sing me a song before you go?"

Piper pursed her lips.

"I'm not your music box. Go ask one of 'em to serenade you. Now shift."

Daniel didn’t put up a fight and swayed off into the darkness outside of her door. This was not worth any amount of gold or ‘experience’. Cock and bullshit, that's what it was.

She put on her boots, grabbed her lantern and began the trek outside her door to find the captain. Honestly, what kind of a captain couldn’t read or write? And if he couldn't, why go through the fuss of hiring someone specifically to write his logs? What was he even going to ask her to write? They had done nothing worth noting.

Piper shook her head and walked slow. She flinched with every creak of the floor or the walls and kept her eyes trained ahead.

In the corner of her eyes, she watched the light dance over the walls. It looked like a mischevious nymph, stretching out shadows and playing with them like toys. It made her fingertips throb and she dug them into the think skin of her palm as if that would make it stop.

Under all the chatter, she could hear another noise. A strange, low groaning that seeped up through the floor from beneath the ship.

Piper walked faster.

A whale, she reasoned, it's probably just a whale.

As she came closer to the stairs, she saw a figure, facing away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Captain Boyce, you wanted to see me?"

The Captain did not speak and began to walk up the stairs.

Piper frowned and pushed her glasses up her long nose. Had she got the wrong person? No, it couldn't be. No one else on the ship had blonde hair, nor clothes that expensive. And in this weather, it was impossible for someone to have snuck on.

Drunk, he was probably drunk.

She held her lantern tighter and began to climb after him.

"Captain! I hope you had a good reason to interrupt my reading."

But again, he did not respond. He just kept walking up and up, towards the door that lead to the deck. Christ, he'd get himself killed if he went out!

"Boyce, stop! It's not safe out there!"

She began running after him, eyes wide and heart slamming against her ribcage like salmon trying to escape from a net. But he faster, and soon had his hand on the doorknob.

"Captain!"

She pushed off the last step, hand reaching out to grab his coat...and fell onto her knees. The Captain was gone, the door still closed. How... what had happened?

But then, the door opened.

The wind and the rain hit her face hard, a shower of silver bullets, and she gasped. The air was so cold it froze her throat, and the world around her blurred as her glasses were drenched.

And yet, just in the distance, at the forecastle deck, she could see him. Captain Boyce. Leaning close to the bowsprit.

Was this a mirage? A hallucination? Surely she hadn't been at sea that long.

His hat was ripped off by the wind, and his golden curls stuck wet to his face. It seemed real. Very real. It had to be real.

Piper sucked in a breathe and forced herself up onto her feet, limbs shaking already. Slowly, she began making her way to the other side of the boat.

She yelled his name, the cold air scratching at her throat until it was raw, but he never responded. She slipped and slid, clothes ripping and skin patchy and red. Every inch of her begged to turn around, but she moved on. Her skin tingled and burnt ice cold, her fingertips turning numb.

Piper was close now, just the small staircase to face and she'd be on the same deck as him. She tried to spit out the curls that had crawled in-between her lips, but in her mouth, they stubbornly stayed.

Then, the boat jerked to the side, flinging her onto her hands and knees. She hissed, taking a moment to process the flaming pain on her palms. As she did so, she hard that same moaning, but louder now.

She crawled up the stairs like a dog, only standing upright once she had reached the top.

"Captain!"

And this time, he responded. He turned his head ever so slightly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. But then he went back to facing the sea.

Clumsily, she ran towards him, breathing so fast it hurt her lungs.  But she'd made it, it would be fine now, she'd grab him, drag him back in and-

He vanished.

Piper stared at the air where he used to be, stumbling over to the bowsprit. She placed her hands on the soaking wood as if that would bring him back.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She'd been tricked. By her own mind or something else, she wasn't sure. But either way, she was here and had to go, fast.

She paused, however, when she heard the noise once more.

Piper pulled off her glasses and squinted into the swirling depths. She could just about see a shadow, long and straight, and bigger than any creature she had ever seen.

She couldn't breathe.

And then something struck the keel.

The back of the boat was pushed above the waves, and Percy was flung against the bowsprit, struck hard in the back. She let out a cry and scrambled to find something to hold onto as the keel fell back into the water.

She heard footsteps, and could just about see a small glow coming from the door entrance.

"Polaris!" Her brother cried.

Immediately after, the creature struck the middle of the boat, and it began to break in two. Piper was flung up and fell back down hard.

Her skull rattled as her head hit the wood, and for her, the world went black.

The men tried to cross the shattering desk, but the creature struck again, and the boat was split in two.  It began to sink, the shadow circling the wreckage. The men cried and screamed, dirty fingernails digging into soft wood, trying desperately to stay afloat.

But Piper stayed still, laid on her side as she began to sink down.

Her brother yelled for her, but she did not respond. He tried to swim, but hands grabbed him and held him down.

"My sister, I have to-"

A hand clamped over his mouth and he was silenced. Though he struggled against his captor, he couldn't escape.

"Stop'i, you're gonna get yourself killed! You can' make it to 'er with tha' thing below!"

Daniel glared at the hands holding him back before looking back towards his sister. He was just in time to see a hand as dark and grey as the swirling sea around it, reach out towards her. It latched onto Piper's slim waist and pulled her towards the depths.

And then, Piper was gone.

[kazemon15]

So, chatting with my friend, Moezy, we were listing our top 10 (.5) anime guys that we liked in all anime and/or manga that we have watched/read...here is my list starting from 10.

10. Kogami Shinya from Psycho-Pass.

Badass and intelligent. I just love this guy. His backstory is a sad one, but it’s not something that he regrets. He can be a bit emotional, but really, who isn’t? What I like about him is that he knows what the right thing is morally, but he just can’t help his emotions. He knows when he is doing the wrong thing, but won’t run from it either and accepts the consequences of his actions. And he isn’t bad to look at either!

9. Roy Mustang from Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.

This guy is such a dork, but also badass. Powerful and smart, with a cool head (most of the time, which is funny, considering he uses fire). Like Shinya, he can also be a pretty emotional guy, and he uses his past as a reminder to not stray from his goal. He is also in one of my favorite ships, but that’s for another post. Also, did I mention he’s such a dork? lol

8. Yuri Lowell from Tales of Vesperia.

Now this guy is how you do a likable main character. Cocky and sarcastic and loves teasing his friends. He is also has a strong belief in stepping in and doing something about whatever wrongdoings is happening right in front of him, even if it means breaking the law and becoming a vigilante. He’ll do anything he can to set things right for those around him. Not so much of a sad past, but still a fun character! I love his sarcastic attitude at times.

7. Kai Hiwatari/Ray Kon from Beyblade 2001/V-force/G-Revolution

Okay I’m cheating a little bit here, but I just couldn’t decide who I liked more. Let’s begin: Kai: The cold emo Russian/Japanese boy with blue/gray hair. His past is extremely sad and it is understandable why he is such a cold jerk. However, I found his growth in the series amazing. He started off being forced to be a Team Captain for his group. This annoyed him to no end as he wanted nothing to do with the happy bunch. As time went on, however, he gained a soft spot for them and even started to become a real captain, giving advice and caring for their well-being. At first, he was prideful, so very prideful... but as time went on, that pride still remained, but only changed. He takes pride in beating his opponents fair and square and defending his comrades. (Despite betraying them 3 times in 3 seasons but...I chalk up the very first time to PTSD and mind-control of his past...other 2 times... well, that pride problem right?). Also, the irony, a cold emo FIREUSER. Right? lol

Ray: My Chinese catboy! Ray is very friendly and reserved. I was instantly drawn to him when I first saw him. Ray is one of the reasons why white tigers are my favorite animal. He will do anything for his friends and even a stranger if they need help. He always listens to both sides of the story before making a judgement and is the guy to go to for advice. Though later in the series, he does have his own personal battles which causes him to become a bit cocky and jerkish at times, but what can you expect from a nice guy who always put himself last and just wanted to do something for himself for once? Self-care, Ray! Self-care. And he isn’t the only catboy on this list...

6. Kimura Kouichi from Digimon Frontier

Another emo boy! But not a jerk like Kai. Kouichi’s past made me like this character so much and his struggle with his inner demons throughout the series is what made me love him. He was the first character to show me that the power of Darkness does not have to be evil, for without Darkness, there is no Light. He always holds a place in my heart is one of my favorite digi characters.

5. Eizen from Tales of Berseria

I wasn’t sure where to place Eizen. I had to think long and hard. At first I thought at putting him at 7, but then I realized I just loved this dork just a little more than the other characters. The comically serious... no seriously, this guy can fanboy at the silliest things with a straight face, like arguing over the name of a bug...or wanting to build underground tunnels...on an island... ...yeah... ANYWAY, I just love this guy because of his morals and creed. He never compromises his ideals and always faces the consequences of his actions. Yeah another one of those huh? Hm, starting to see a pattern here... Oh yeah, touch his little sister, and he’ll beat your face in and break all 10 of your fingers. Seriously, just...don’t touch Edna. Why couldn’t he be 1,000 years younger (2,000 in Zestiria...)? Such a badass long living adult!

4. Narumi Ayumu from Spiral. It’s a shame this manga isn’t that popular as Ayumu is a great character and his growth is amazing in the manga (not so much in the anime..) His growth is both sad and inspiring. He is such an inspiring character for me. He starts off as a stoic, with having no confidence in himself at all because of his brother, since he is constantly being compared to him and is reminded he can never be as good as his brother (I can relate)... but by the end of the series, despite all the sad things that has happened to him, he learned to smile in the end, no matter how painful. I really can’t go into details about why I love him so much, but you’ll just have to read the manga to find out why!

3. Niwa Daisuke and Dark from D.N.Angel

Yes I’m cheating again, but this is my list, okay?! Daisuke: I love this guy to death. A bit clumsy and timid, but never gives up. Always smiling and managing to find the best in people, even those who keep convincing him he is the enemy, he can end up friends with and change anyone with just that smile. However, even he is not all smiles and has his own concerns... even so, Daisuke doesn’t let such things get him down for long. He is a naturally empathetic person, and I have never seen him cry for himself. He cries for others, but also knows when to be reserved.

Dark: I wasn’t sure if I wanted Dark here or Hiwatari Satoshi, as they both have equally sad pasts. However, seeing as Dark lived for over 400 years and still manages to put up a cocky womanizing front to spare the feelings of others, Dark won out in the end. Again, can’t go into much detail, but the manga is amazing. I like Manga Dark so much more than his anime counterpart.

2. Sawada Tsunayoshi from Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Ah yes my favorite series of all time....so then why is Tsuna at number 2?! Well, I’ll get to that when I get to number 1. Like Daisuke, Tsuna is a pretty empathetic person who cares for his comrades. He doesn’t necessarily have a sad past, but his growth is amazing in the series. Because he is around, he managed to help his friends through their own emotional turmoils and is just the light of the series to everyone.

1.5 Zeno from Yona of the Dawn/Akatsuki no Yona

Zeno and my number 1 favorite have ALOT in common, which is why I put him at a 1.5. Despite this, Zeno does have alot of things I like him for him. I love the fact that Zeno does not hesitate to help his family or be in pain for them when the situation calls for it. It is the only thing he can do to help and despite always being in pain, he would rather have all the pain in the world than to have pain inflicted on his family. That is what I love about him most. Of course, his silly childish side is so lovable too! Him and Eizen can talk about the suckiness of living a long life together...

1. Train Heartnet from Black Cat.

Of course, for this guy, I strictly talking about the manga, not the anime...the anime just does not show how awesome and badass he is.

Like Zeno, he is also a very empathetic person who always wants to protect his family. What I like about Train the most is, though, like Zeno, despite having one of the saddest pasts, and has all the reason in the world to go around being bitter and emo, he decides not to. He decides it’s better to smile, have fun, and make the most out of life. He does have some tendencies to become emo, but only when the situation calls for it. And despite being childish and silly, always having fun, he never let’s that get in the way of being serious and protecting those close to him when needed. He always tries to cheer everyone up in a bad situation, and is not above asking for help when he really needs it. Not to mention, he’s a catboy and left-handed at that, like me! All my favorite things in one!