#anyway. tried something different with the 'rendering'. hope it doesn't look too bad

[kitkat578]

Jack is back!

flats under cut

[kaigarax]

Hopes and Dreams

Rorona Zoro x Reader

Quote: “Fall in love with someone that sweeps you up in waves.”

The First Shot.

‘SNAP!’

Zoro’s quick to jump to his feet at the sound of shutters going off. His blades have been pulled from their holsters and ready to attack any potential oncoming danger.

Of course, there is no incoming attack and no oncoming danger. Just a silly girl (you) and her camera. A camera which you almost drop as you try your best to recover from the startle Zoro had given you from his sudden movements.

You grin sheepishly as Zoro’s eyes meet with your own.

Looks like it's just another doofus.

The swordsmen isn���t all too familiar with you. Sure, you’ve befriended his hyperactive and jubilant captain but that certainly doesn't mean that you’ve earned his trust or friendship. Best to keep someone like you at arm's length; afterall, one can never know which direction danger will come from. Besides, a girl like you traveling all alone on an ocean filled with pirates is bound to have something up her sleeve.

Of course, from what Zoro has observed there really isn’t much harm that he can see you causing him. You’re clumsy and seem rather unfamiliar with weapons; plus you’re easily rendered useless when placed upon a moving vehicle.

But one can never fully let their guard down when the lives of others are at stake. Especially the lives of those he cares about. The lives of his precious crewmates and friends. So Zoro, expectedly, tries his best to keep a good distance away from you.

“What did you do?” Sighed Zoro as he put his blades back into their holsters..

“Sorry,” you flush, “I wanted to take a photo of you at that moment. I know I should have asked first but then your posing would have been awkward and unnatural. I did plan on asking you after I’d taken the photo but you jumped up and-”

Zoro took a step towards you, cutting you off promptly, “hand it over.”

You stare at the blank photo in your hand with guilt. At first he thinks that you won’t comply with his request and try to run off; it definitely wouldn’t be the first time someone had run away from him when being confronted. Then you look back up at him. And then back to the photo. Eventually, you reluctantly hand it over.

Zoro can see colour beginning to form in the little square of white you passed over to him. From the green in his hair to the white outline of his blades. It looks like you’d taken a photo of the side of his face in the midst of his nap.

He wonders if you’ve made a habit out of taking photos of people while distracted. He certainly thought so.

The somber expression on your face is almost sad enough to make Zoro feel bad as he stuffs it into his pocket.

Eventually, Zoro reluctantly turns to you, “what do you want the photo for anyways?”

You flash him a bright and beaming smile which sends Zoro’s heart into a flurry of flutters and strange pitter patters. His face is hot as he turns away.

If you notice you don’t say anything to mention it as you pull out a small book that looks as though it has too many pages for the spine to be able to function properly. Zoro also notes how there are sheets of paper sticking out on the sides and numerous amounts of bookmarks tucked between the different pages.

He briefly finds himself wondering if these bookmarks hold as much weight to them as the contents of the novel itself. He doesn't ponder long as you shove the book towards him.

Zoro’s first reaction to the book is a rather reluctant one. Is this really something he wants to get involved in? It’s not something that looks very life changing and he’s currently missing out on some great sleep hours. He’s very close to pushing the book away and closing his eyes when he finally looks at your face. It’s the excited look on your face that gets him to take the book from you and turn to the first page.

There’s a large picture of a young boy with ginger hair plastered in the centre of the first page. He seems rather embarrassed about something and Zoro briefly wonders if that had something to do with you. The edges of the photo are brown and slightly ripped. He also thinks that there might be water marks, though from rain or tears Zoro can’t tell.

“What is it?” Zoro asks.

“An album of photos I’ve taken.”

“And why exactly do you take photos?”

“So that I can remember people like you~”

You’re really such a doofus.

---

The Second Shot.

It’s the middle of the night when Zoro spots you. You’re sitting on the edge of the doc next to the Strawhats’ ship and fiddling with something in your hands as you dip your feet into the cool ocean water.

Should he go up to you and say something?

From here he can barely make out your features but you seem more solemn and sad than usual. It’s nothing that your body language seems to give away but rather something he instinctively knows. Zoro isn’t exactly sure how he knows but he does. Afterall, there are just some things in life that are indisputable facts to you despite not being able to prove them.

He should definitely go up to you and say something.

It’s getting late and one can never know when something bad might happen, especially at night. Of course, he isn’t really sure if he’s in the mood to talk to you (or anyone) in the first place. Sometimes, like right now, someone just wants to sit back with their own thoughts.

But your sadness seems to chip away at his cold exterior and is why he finds himself walking to the edge of the ship.

“What’s wrong?” Snaps Zoro, as though you’ve wronged him.

You sigh, in that dreamy way the Cook always gushes about, “the unfairness of life.”

It’s strange, Zoro thinks. You, surprisingly, don’t beat around the bush. It’s a rather refreshing and new experience to have with you.

Zoro chuckles, “and how has life wronged you?”

“Life hasn’t wronged me.”

He raises a brow in response.

“I was born into quite a fortunate position. With a caring family and brilliant future planned out for me. My mother, on the other hand, had been jaded by the world.” You stare up at the brilliant array of stars above the two of you, “I think at some point she might have loved me. At least I want to believe she did.”

Zoro feels the urge to jump over the gap between the two of you but stays rooted in place.

Everyone has (or knows someone with) a sad backstory.

“You know, I wish I had been born a man.”

Zoro has to resist the urge to let out a series of annoyed and confused incoherent sounds. What’s with women wanting to be men? No, what’s with him finding women that want to be men? Is there really such a difference between men and women that would cause three individuals in his life to loathe their birth? To want something so different from what they have already been given?

“You must think I’m stupid.”

Zoro tries his best not to react but a slight nod of agreement overtakes his self control. Sometimes it’s weird how you’re able to read him so well. To understand him more than he sometimes understands himself. It’s weird but in a pleasant way.

“Truthfully, I don’t think my life would have been that different if I had been born a man,” you chuckle, “though the life of my parents certainly would have changed.”

Finally, Zoro asks, “how so?”

“Because then they would have never left.”

And his heart aches for you.

Everyone has a sad backstory. A sad moment hidden within the past that is their life. Zoro knows that yet his heart throbs regardless. He wonders if you can see the reaction of it from the outside?

He jumps over from his side and takes a seat beside you.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

Zoro grumbles, “sleeping. If you plan on staying awake then I’m going to sleep and you can keep watch over the ship tonight.”

You visibly brighten, your practiced smile growing wider as you lean towards him.

Zoro feels his cheeks heat up which forces him to turn his head away from you. He closes his eyes in a huff.

‘SNAP!’

Zoro peaks an eye open, staring at you expectantly.

You pout as you hand the photo over to him.

---

The Third Shot.

“What do you think happens to us when we die?” you ask as you stare up at the sky above.

“What?” Zoro grunts, lifting a heavy weight over his head for the hundredth time, “why would you ask about something like that?”

“The day.” you answer.

Zoro feels rather disappointed in your answer though he knows better than to expect something more from you. You’ve never been the kind of person to just give. Zoro supposes that not many people really are though. But you are not many people.

Befiely, he finds himself wondering if there might be something special about today. You seem much more distracted than you usually are and you’re constantly making comments out of the blue about strange and morbid topics. Not that Zoro is a stranger to strange comments, it’s just rather strange coming from someone as chipper as you usually are.

“Do you want to do something today?” Zoro asks.

“Pardon?”

The swordsman rolls his eyes, a red flush taking over his face (that's definitely from working out), as he repeats his question.

He knows that you heard what he said and just want to hear him say it again.

Truthfully, Zoro isn’t too sure what brought such a feeling up in the first place. He’s always been one to board himself off from his other emotions and make the most rational decision. But such is the role one must take when they have a Captain as carefree and emotional as himself. But, seeing a smile on your face makes his stomach flutter and a smile appear on his own face. That’s just the kind of person you are. That’s just the kind of effect you happen to have on him.

And it’s not as though the world will end.

“So?” Zoro asks, “I was planning on heading into the town before we take off but I didn’t have any plans.”

You smile and he hopes you don’t see past his lie, “we should go visit the town’s children then.”

“The children?”

“Of course.”

Zoro groans, though to his credit he did try his best to stifle it. He had offered in the first place. Of course, that doesn't stop him from asking, “why the children?”

“Because I love the sparkle of adventure in their eyes.”

Is that why you like Strawhats? The Captain? Is that why you like him?

Dreams of grander and hopes of greatness are often looked down upon and seen as fantastical and improbable. Constantly, growing up, people often looked towards the young green haired swordsmen as nothing but a boy with a dream. A hope for something that only happens to one in every billion people here. Not just anyone can hope for something as crazy as him.

Everyone dreams as children.

They dream and hope for things that no one else has ever done. They look towards the impossible until others bring them back down to earth.

Did that happen to you?

Did you once have fantastical and improbable dreams?

‘SNAP’

Zoro’s gaze jolts up, a sharp look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” you apologize but the smile on your face says otherwise, “you just looked so deep in thought. I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite an expression from you before.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

You smile teasingly, “that you don’t think… deeply.”

Zoro feels a strange feeling bubble up in him at your playful smile. He smirks playfully and watches as your expression slowly changes from amused to worried. He leans over towards you before pinning you beneath the heavyweight he had been using.

“H-hey!” You exclaim, “Zoro! I thought we were going to go into town together?”

The green-haired swordsman only smirks in response.

---

The Fourth Shot.

“So, what do you think?” You ask, peeking over the top of the book.

Zoro shugs, “it’s alright, I guess. I just don’t really see what’s so special about all of these photos. I mean they’re nice.”

“Hm,” you nod, “anything else?”

Zoro feels as though there’s a specific answer that you’re looking for from him but for what he isn’t sure.

The people featured in the picture book don’t seem to have anything in common with one another. From the features and expressions of the individuals to the angles you’ve taken the photos from. Some are taken unknowingly while others are smiling while staring at the lens. There are some filled with laughter and others with pressed and upset expressions.

Zoro looks up from the book briefly to you.

Your eyes are brimming with anticipation.

Something invisible seems to tug at his chest.

“Who’s that?” Zoro asks, pointing to a blonde boy that he’s seen appear at least three times now. Usually it isn’t something he would notice or feel the need to point out. But up until this point there hasn’t been more than a single photo of a person. If you had taken the time to capture and care to keep at least three different photos of him then he must have meant something to you. But, from what Zoro can tell there isn’t anything too special about the blonde boy.

“Oh!” you smile, “do you know him?”

Zoro shakes his head, “why would I know him?”

“Because I met him in the East Blue. The two of you might have crossed paths at one point.”

Zoro thinks of something witty to say in response but bites his tongue before the words can be said. It’s obvious from the way you dodged the question that you don’t want to discuss it any further anyways.

Instead, Zoro smiles, “so, are you going to put the photo of me in here?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “how can I when you’ve taken all my photos of you?”

He feels a chuckle of amusement rise in his chest.

Fall in love with someone that sweeps you up in waves.

[builder051]

Hi I hope you're doing well! For SS, could you do something for the whoa bessie verse where Bucky hurts his good arm (like dislocates his shoulder or breaks his wrist or something) and it triggers a major panic attack, which triggers a seizure and Steve feels really bad about it all. Maybe something along those lines feel free to take creative liberty, whatever you write will be amazing :)

Thanks. :). I am going to have to tone down the drama a little bit; it's a lot to fit into a short fic. Thanks so much for the ideas, though!

_________________

Whoa Bessie

_________________

James's pension hasn't come. It's a good three days late, which has never happened before.

Steve calls customer service, using the number on the back of James's debit card. He's told they can only talk to the cardholder, and by the time James stutters his way through his politest rendering of 'what the hell is going on?,' the clipped voice on the other end is already rattling off an excuse and an address where they'll have to resolve the issue in-person.

"I bet it's a form," Steve says, trying his best to comfort James, who has tears in his eyes. It happens from time to time in government work, he knows all too well. "They probably updated something that needs a signature, or some other shit..."

"But why are they holding my money?"

"Because they're dumbasses who like to watch other people jump through hoops. Too bad the circus is all but defunct..."

"Will they give me my money once we go there?" James likes things simple. Cause. Effect. Case closed.

"I don't know, Buck," Steve sighs. "They should. But then there are, like, processing times and stuff."

It's after five, so they make plans to drive into the city the next morning. They leave early, toting travel mugs full of coffee. It's a good thing, since commuter traffic is slow, and parking is all but nonexistent.

"There it is." The marquee for James's bank dominates the block. Steve parks at a meter and digs for coins in the center console. The price per hour is outrageous, but this shouldn't take long. Just a paper to sign, right? At least that's what they've talked themselves up for.

There's an honest-to-god map in the marble entryway. Like in a shopping mall. Each floor is dedicated to something different, and office numbers are printed on tiny squares surrounding a central elevator. Steve thinks he makes sense of it, but he checks with an annoyed teller anyway. "Yeah, sixth floor," she confirms.

They get in the elevator, and James quickly stabs the appropriate button. The small space smells metallic, like unpolished brass. The doors slide together roughly, as if they've not been oiled in a long time. The air tastes stale. Steve doesn't care for it. He has no idea how it's feeling to James. Probably not good.

Once they're free and roaming the sixth floor, Steve starts counting off doors. They make almost a complete circle before finding the office that takes care of James's division of Veteran's affairs. The office door is open a crack. James looks to Steve, who shrugs. James shrugs back, then softly knocks.

They're invited in. The woman behind the desk asks how she can help them. James looks pleadingly at Steve, so he goes on and explains.

The woman nods, then ducks under the desk to find something in a creaky filing cabinet. She emerges with a single paper in one hand and a stack of them in the other. "Terms and Conditions," Steve can read on the top sheet of the stack.

It turns out something's changed deep within James's banking arrangements, and he, having largely ignored his email account since setting it up, missed the courteous notifications that could've directed him to submit his signature electronically. The woman tries to frame it as not completely his fault and not completely the bank's, but James's face still goes sour as he picks up a pen and scribbles his name at the bottom of the document in need of filing.

"Can we go?" James asks Steve in a whisper.

"He gets to keep this?" Steve takes up the Terms and Conditions packet as he pushes out his chair and stands.

The woman nods, and Steve puts his hand on James's shoulder.

Out in the hall, James drags his fingers through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. "Stupid," he mutters.

"Yeah, well, it's finished now," Steve says. "Home? Or you want to stop somewhere for lunch? Or I think I know how to get to the library from here--"

"I want to go home." James has spotted the fire exit, and he quickly opens the door, revealing a set of ugly linoleum stairs that contrast wildly with the rest of the building.

"No more elevator?" Steve asks with a laugh.

"I'll puke." James starts down the first set of steps, then waits at the landing for Steve to catch up.

"Yeah, I'm coming..."

James keeps his eyes on Steve as he begins to descend the next few stairs. He grips the handrail tightly, but the toe of his boot catches, and he stumbles.

"Oh, Buck, watch out!"

But it's too late. James can't seem to figure out which foot to put his weight on to stop the fall. His arm trails behind his body, squeaking as his skin scrapes down the handrail.

Steve sprints to try and catch him; he drops the packet of papers, and sheets of fine type scatter everywhere. "Buck, hey, it's ok--"

But it's not. James's arm is at a weird angle, stretched too far behind his torso. His feet continue to shuffle until he meets the next landing, and they carry right into the wall.

James collapses in a heap. Drops of blood dot the floor, and Steve's heart thuds in his chest. Something's terribly wrong, but he can't find the source of the bleeding. As soon as he's at James's side, he squats beside his limp form and begins to take it all in.

"Buck?" Steve asks.

James makes but a groan in reply. He opens and closes his hand weakly, and crimson pools on his palm. He seems to have skinned it right open from the friction of his grip against the peeling paint on the rail. "It--it hurts--" James's teeth chatter, though it's not cold.

"I know..." Steve gently touches James's upper arm.

James whines softly, but doesn't move.

"That's...not where it's supposed to be," Steve says quietly.

"I know..."

"I can probably take care of it," Steve offers, "But it'll hurt."

“Mm…”. His teeth audibly grind, way back to the molars. “It’s not— worth saving—“

“Buck, it’s not that.” Steve shakes his head wildly. “Not the— there’s no explosion. No, like…”. He tries to dredge up any more details he knows from the accident that took James’s arm. An IED. Taliban transport. Months of captivity. Steve doesn’t want to remind James of any of it. “It’s your other arm,” he winds up saying. “Your shoulder’s out of socket, I think.”

“Oh…”. James blinks. He tries to take a deep breath, but looks too pained. The air hisses out in a sharp sigh. He doesn’t look completely present. His eyes find Steve’s, though, and he makes a tiny nod.

“You want me to try to fix it?” Steve gently puts his hand to James’s shoulder, then sweeps it delicately down his back. The ball of the joint is out of socket, but not by much. A little shift beneath the muscle… The thought of it is both sickening and satisfying.

James gives a quiet moan. Then he nods again.

“Ok.” Steve moves swiftly. It takes just a nudge, then a hard push with his thumbs. The reseating of the bone against its cradle of cartilage and fluid makes a sound that causes Steve to cringe. He hopes the noise block on James’s hearing aids filters it out.

Finished, Steve wraps his arms around James’s trembling form, lying him back a little against his lap. “Ok. It’s done. You’re ok…”

It might be a lie. Steve means the shoulder, but overall, he really has no idea.

James’s hand twitches against the knee of Steve’s jeans, and a line of blood appears, smeared across the crisp denim. “Ok, alright…”. Steve takes James’s hand in his, unsure if that does anything for the pain. It stems the bleeding a little. The injury isn’t deep, just wide. Skin peeled back to expose the raw flesh of his hand, full of tiny veins and arteries with no barrier now to contain what they carry.

James will need one of those bandages, the kind that looks like plastic wrap. Steve doesn’t know where to get one, though, outside of a hospital. God, he hopes they won’t have to go to the hospital. The VA clinic, an emergency sick appointment with James’s GP. That’d be fine. But not the emergency room. Maybe it’s something he can buy over the counter, at the pharmacy. He’ll have to ask.

But Steve’s brain is moving too fast. He’ll have to get James back to the car first. He’ll have to get him on his feet before that.

“Buck?” Steve wipes the blood off his hand and onto his already soiled jeans, then slides his fingers up and down James’s wrist.

“Yeah,” James chokes, as if suddenly coming to his senses. “Yeah, I— We have to—“. He squirms around in Steve’s grip, turning a full 180 degrees and using Steve’s shoulders to push himself up to a hunched standing position. He winces as he moves his arm, but doesn’t stop his return to motion.

“Ok, yeah.” Steve gets to his feet as well. He takes half a glance up the stairs to the scattered papers, ready to trip up the next person who opens the entrance to the stairs, but he doesn’t make a move to gather them up. James is already limping down the next set of steps. And it’s not like either of them would read the pile of paperwork, anyway.

Steve’s mildly surprised that James continues to move purposefully, yet slowly, through the maze of the stairwell and out the bank’s front door. As soon as they’re outside, though, he leans his stump shoulder hard against Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s ok.” Steve puts his arm around James, watching him gingerly open and close his still-bleeding hand. The sound of an industrial vehicle backing up and beeping loudly makes him look up, though, and what he sees makes him start to shout.

Two police officers stand beside Steve’s car. There’s already a ticket beneath his windshield wiper, and the officers smirk toward the tow truck lowering its hook in the direction of the sedan’s undercarriage.

“Hey! No, wait!” Steve waves the arm that isn’t actively holding James up. “That’s mine!”

One of the officers languidly turns around. She scratches at her braids, then asks, “Yeah? This is yours?”

“Yes.” Steve tries to hurry James along. “I— We’re— we’re leaving. Right now.”

“You overran your meter,” the policewoman says objectively.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Steve pulls the keys from his pocket and waves them, as if proving ownership would somehow help the situation. He presses the automatic unlock button, and the headlights flash. “I didn’t mean to.”

The officers share a look. “Nobody ever does.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, a bit on the defensive. “It’s not like I planned for him to fall down the stairs.”

James makes a small sound. Steve knows he hates the situation. He probably still hurts a lot. He said he wanted to go home.

“What now?” The policewoman raises an eyebrow.

Steve tries to keep his voice steady instead of imbued with desperation. “He fell. He got hurt.” They’re close enough now for Steve to open the car’s front passenger door, but he hesitates and keeps talking. “He’s a vet. He’s epileptic.” Steve nudges James’s body forward just an inch, but it gives better display of the missing arm.

“You planning on going to the hospital?”

Steve sucks in his breath. James tenses against him. “The VA?” Steve tries. “That’s where he usually goes.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “A little out of the metro?”

“I was thinking, like, nearest ER.” The officer starts to look skeptical. “And I was thinking about giving you an escort and everything.”

“We don’t need that,” Steve says quickly. “It’s fine. The drive. Just, please.” He brings his hands together around James and makes a praying motion. “Don’t take the car.”

The officers look at each other again, seeming to have a secret conversation that’s all eyelashes and turned down lips.

“You overran your—“ one of them starts to say again.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Steve presses his knee into the car door. “Give me the ticket. Please. I don’t care.”

There’s a long pause, then the officer says, “Ok.”

“Ok.” Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. “Ok. Thank you. So much.”

“It’s a double fine zone.” She reaches for the ticket on Steve’s windshield and pulls out a ballpoint pen.

“What?” Steve looks around, confused. “No, it isn’t.”

“It is now.” The officer uses the car’s hood as a desk, then hands Steve the ticket, extra charges added in blue ink and signed off with a loopy signature. Funny what a name on a piece of paper can do.

“Alright.” Steve accepts the offering. “Thank you.”

They wave at each other as the officers slip into their cruiser and Steve helps James into his seat. Then Steve climbs in, starts the car, and makes something like an 18-point turn around the rear of the tow truck. When they’re finally out in the street, Steve turns to James. “How’re you feeling?”

“Shitty.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I’ll pay it,” James says. “When they give me my check.”

Steve’s lost on where the topic has gone. “Huh?”

“The parking ticket? It’s my fault.”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “It’s not like you fell down the stairs on purpose. You can’t just jump back up when stuff like that happens. Besides, it’s my car. I fed the meter. I had more change, but didn’t think I needed to put it in.” He shrugs. “My fault.”

“How about…”. James starts, his voice drawn out. “Nobody’s fault?”

“Police’s fault for being nit-picky?” Steve glances at James, and they both laugh.

“You still want to just go home?” Steve asks. “No pit stops at the hospital? The VA?”

James shakes his head. “I hurt, but… I need… don’t want, like, people touching…?”

Steve understands. “It’s your body, Buck. You’re in charge.”

James nods vaguely.

“You will be ok, you know,” Steve reminds him. “Today’s bad. Tomorrow might be better?” It’s probably ridiculous optimism, but it does pull James’s scowl into a flat line, then the shadow of a smile.

“Yeah,” James whispers. “Might be.”

“That’s right,” Steve says. He feels calmer, maybe the slightest bit hopeful. “That’s right.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

Could you write something that takes place during Roy's apprenticeship with Berthold Hawkeye shortly after he started and he doesn't get along with Riza even though he tries to. One day they start fighting, Roy calls Riza a bitch, Riza gets mad and tells him that his parents only sent him here because they hate him and don't want him around and Roy is upset and leaves, Riza finds him later crying about it and he tells her that his parents are dead and she feels bad and apologizes.

oooohhhh i liked this one! thank you! i hope i did it justice though kjnfssf and i hope you enjoy it 

Tensions were high in the Hawkeye household and it wasn’t becauseRoy’s first alchemy exam - courtesy of her father and his intense way ofteaching.

Well, that hadsomething to do with it.

It was because Rizaand Roy were currently walking on eggshells around each other after dumbargument they’d had that morning. It was so petty that even now Riza feltridiculous, but then she remembered his words and felt another surge of anger.

They’d never really seen eye to eye on a lot of things. He was tooloud and demanding for her liking and she was too quiet and apparently “stuckher nose up” at everything he suggested. Riza had been outraged to hear thatwas how Roy thought of her, because it wasn’t true at all. Just because she didn’twant to listen to him loudly boasting about idiotic things like how he could runthe fastest out of all the boys in his neighbourhood, didn’t make her stuck up.It made her irritated hearing him trying to put her down by asking whatachievements she had to her name.

He’d tried to strike up a friendship, and so had Riza, but shethought they just didn’t work. They didn’t mesh well together. He was a pompousand arrogant idiot that Riza had no time for.

However,they’d reached a truce a few weeks ago when Roy had complained about how stupidand unfair this exam was, not knowing that Riza had just entered the room tohear him. He’d jumped and scowled, but there was a panicked look in his eyes, afraidshe might run and tell her father.

Instead,she approached the kitchen table and quietly took a seat.

“Sometimes, he’s too much for me too.”

They’dbonded over their mutual frustration regarding her father’s teachings andupbringings, and so begun a tentative friendship.

Now,that was in tatters.

Riza had been helpingthe stressed teenager study and asked him how he could havepossibly gotten a simple question wrong - meant more as a playful joke thananything else, and the first one Riza had ever made in his presence - but Royhad snapped back, stating that at least he could do alchemy,unlike her. Riza had stated at him, slightly dumbfounded. He then went on tostate that no wonder her father had chosen him over Riza to teach alchemy. She’dstood abruptly, the textbook falling off her lap and landing with a thumpon the floor. Roy didn’t even look up. She stormed out the room trying to fightback the tears without so much as an apology from the boy she’d been trying tohelp.

Riza remembered thedays when her father had tried to teach her alchemy. She remembered the yellingand the berating.

“I can’t believe I was cursed with such a child who’dnot only taken my wife’s life away from her, but was also so useless at alchemy,she is unable to carry on my legacy.”

Shortly after thatconversation, he’d brought on Roy as an apprentice.

That’s why, initially,Riza wanted nothing to do with this damned science. It could burn in hell forall she cared – and that opinion remained – however, being cooped up in thehouse with only her recluse of a father and another teenager, Riza hadnaturally sought out companionship. Alchemy came part and parcel with her fledglingfriendship with Roy.

It was also another way she could try and please her father, byhelping the boy succeed, however she’d never openly admit that to anyone.It took a lot for Riza to even admit that to herself.

Now it was two days later,and the exam was tomorrow morning. This would determine whether Roy would bekept on or not. Naturally, he would be nervous and stressed, but that didn’texcuse being mean when she’d only been trying to help and lighten the mood.

Riza entered the kitchen after dinner for a glass of water only tojump in fright at the sight of a dark figure sitting, slouched, against thetable. The door creaked loudly, the hinges yelling their desperate plea forsome maintenance and care. Roy started in his chair, sitting bolt upright, apiece of paper stuck to his face with his drool.

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but his angrywords remained, clinging painfully to her chest. Without a word she continued onher way and retrieved a glass from the cupboard. Roy only coughed in response, followedby the sound of paper rustling.

Time seemed to stretch for an eternity and for some reason theconstant sound of paper moving reallybegun to grate on Riza’s nerves.

“You had no right to say what you did,” she managed to announce tothe silent room, the anger inside her belly overcoming the nervousness in theface of confrontation. It was time for her to stand up for herself and Riza Hawkeyewas more than ready because it was a long time coming.

“Neither did you,” Roy stated, voice hard.

Riza whirled around, the running water forgotten. “I was trying tohelp you. I have been since you startedpreparing for this exam, in case you’d forgotten.”

“Why did you volunteerto help if you were only going to make fun of me?” he fired back.

“I was trying to lighten the mood! And, because I don’t want youto go!”

Silence filled the room and for once Riza was proud of herself. She’dfinally managed to render the great Roy Mustang mute.

“I don’t care,” he sniffed. “It sucks here anyway. I don’t care ifI get kept on or not.” His tone was petulant but teenage Riza was unable to distinguishthat. She only felt hurt in her chest as the one person who was the closestthing to a friend for Riza stated they didn’t care about staying here with heranymore.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Screw this up. See if I care!”

“Fine, I will!” he shouted back. No doubt this whole conversation haddisturbed her father but Riza didn’t care. “It will save me the hassle ofputting up with the crazy bastard in the other room and his bitch of adaughter!”

Riza’s expression was cold and unforgiving as she replied. “The onlyreason you’re here is because your parents hate you and didn’t want to put up with youanymore,” she replied, just as hatefully as Roy’s retort, but there wassomething different in his face. “Good luck crawling back to a home where noone wants you after you fail this exam!”

Roy’s mouth was parted and Riza – dare she say it – thought shesaw his eyes becoming wet.

He was gone and out the room in seconds, the back door slammingloudly.

Where pride had found her before, now there was only regret. Shewasn’t proud of what she’d said in the slightest. It wasn’t nice, it was mean,and that was not the kind of person Riza was. Even though Roy had initiated itwith his unkind words, Riza didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. However, she wouldn’tjust sit back and take his abuse – she’d done that enough in the face of herfather and had vowed that it would happen no longer.

Standing up to her father was still incredibly difficult, butstanding up to a someone she didn’t really know that well? She could do that.

WhatRiza couldn’t understand was why her words had caused such a reaction?

Oh.Oh no.

Werehis parents…? Was everything all right back at his home in Central?

Rizahad only seen his Aunt drop him off here, but she just guessed that was becausehis parents were maybe busy with work or something. She’d never ventured to tryand put two and two together and Roy never mentioned anything about them.

Thundercracked outside – the sound making Riza jump in fright, that’s how loud it was.A fork of lightening streaked through the sky and dived down behind the trees ofthe forest outside her home.

Roywas out there in the storm.

Hewas probably upset because of her comments. Riza knew she was.

She’dhad a hand in causing this.

Grabbingboth her and Roy’s rain jackets from the hook by the front door and a torchRiza took off into the night.

*          *          *

Itwas dark before she found him. Riza was soaked through to her bones, shiveringuncontrollably with her teeth chattering loudly. Roy looked much the same, hunchedover on an old tree trunk that had fallen down a few years ago in a thunderstorm.He looked as drenched as Riza felt. Hair plastered to his head and down hisneck, his clothes shining with moisture.

Therain had been relentless as it fell while Riza had moved through the forest.Here, at this old fallen tree, it had lessened as they were more sheltered. Thecanopy above was thick, however fat drops dripped off the leaves and onto theirbodies as the rain continued to fall high above them.

“Roy?”she called apprehensively, her teeth almost biting her tongue. His back was to herand Riza wasn’t sure what she would find when – or if – he turned to face her.

Hedid turn, but only after she called his name again and a little louder. Roylooked up at her, confusion plain on his face, but it also held an immensesadness. His eyes were desolate, his face wet. What were raindrops and what weretears, Riza couldn’t tell.

You caused this.

“Areyou okay?” she asked. Her chest tightened at the sight of him. He looked sosmall and sad – a shell of his usual arrogant self.

Heshook his head.

“Here,”Riza offered him his jacket. Roy stared at it before looking back up at her fora brief second. Then, with finality, he shivered and turned back around tostare into the inky blackness of the trees.

Abrief internal debate later, Riza draped his jacket over his shoulders and huddledon the fallen trunk next to him. Roy stiffened but didn’t say anything when shepressed her body up against his. She shivered next to him, a large shudderracking her body and causing it to bump against him. With a mumbled apology shelooked ahead with him, formulating the correct words she needed to say in hermind.

“I’mso sorry,” she whispered. Thunder cracked again, making her jump, but Royappeared to not have heard it. “What I said… I’m sorry if it was insensitive.”She risked a glance up at his face. He continued to stare straight ahead intothe trees, unmoving and unflinching in the rain.

“Myparents died.” Riza felt her blood run cold, the regret in her stomach knowing awaypainfully as his words registered with her. Oh,god. It was worse than she thought. And she just had to go and put her foot in it and say something like that.

“Roy,I’m sorry, I truly am.” Her tone was earnest, desperate for him to understand.She felt like such an idiot. She was the worst person on the planet, throwingsomething like his dead parents back in his face.

Shefelt awful.

Appearingto have snapped out of whatever trance he was in, Roy shook his head, waterslipping off his sodden hair and hitting Riza’s skin.

“Youdidn’t know.”

“Thatdoesn’t excuse what I said –”

“Riza,please, just…” He trailed off, suddenly looking and sounding a lot older thanhis sixteen years. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Shedidn’t want to leave it be. Her words had been hateful, but so had his, shereminded herself. She’d basically stated his parents didn’t want him anymore that’swhy he was here with her, but his parents were dead.

Thatwas so much worse.

“I’msorry too. For everything.”

“Foreverything?” Riza repeated, confused.

“Iwasn’t the most open when I first arrived,” he elaborated. “It wasn’t intentional.Growing up where I grew up… Arrogance came as part of the deal. I had to becauseif I didn’t then I would’ve gotten eaten alive for being the scrawny kid withno real talents except his brains.” He laughed to himself but Riza knew therewas nothing funny about it. “I had to lie my way through a lot with the otherkids because they… Well, they weren’t the nicest. The area I used to live in wasn’tthe nicest, but it was home,” he added, an almost wistful smile on his face.

“Strategyand alchemy have always been my strong point so at least I was able to getmyself out of some rough situations.” Riza’s heart constricted at the thoughtof her friends being left to fend for himself like that. It didn’t sound pleasantat all. “Now, it’s just a habit. A defence mechanism. So, I apologise if I cameon too strong with you. I know how irritating that behaviour can be.”

“Itwas a little much,” she whispered, bumping his shoulder with her own. A smallsmile tugged at his lips and Riza counted that as win, even if his face did dropagain. Roy wiped his nose with the back of his hand, rubbing at his eyes.

“Canwe… Can we just, start over?” he asked, expression earnest as he finally turnedhis body to face her. “I… I’m not proud of what I said, and it was unfair. Ithink…” He sighed heavily, dropping his gaze. “I thought you were making fun ofme like the kids back home used to do. That’s why I snapped.”

“Iwas trying to lighten the mood,” Riza explained. “I didn’t mean to –”

“It’sokay,” he reassured her with a real smile this time. “We could be here all dayhanding out apologies for every little thing we said in anger. I’m really sorryfor that. And, if you’re willing, I’d like to start over, because I really likeyou, Riza.” His eyes widened as he spotted her blush. “No – No! Not like that,”he stuttered. “I mean, you’re really lovely, and a really nice person, notstuck up at all like I said before –”

“Roy,”she interrupted, still embarrassed by the blush that had appeared on her face. “We’regood on my end,” Riza stated, telling him all was forgiven. Now, she waitedwith bated breath to hear if the feeling was mutual for him, and not that she’dmade the biggest mistake of her life by driving probably the only person shecould call a friend away from her with some angry words.

“We’regood on my end,” he repeated back with another smile. He turned away and sighedin relief, completely missing the way Riza’s face turned pink again at thesight of his smile. “I’ll cut the shit and work on being more bearable,” he offered,a strained smile on his face as he turned back to face her.

“That’sall I ask,” she stated solemnly before breaking out in a grin, nudging hisshoulder to tell him she was joking. “Come on, we should get back before we gethypothermia,” Riza offered.

Shestood, offering her hand to Roy. He stared at it before looking up at her eyes.Riza remained steady under his scrutiny. Obviously, it had been hard for him totrust thanks to his upbringing – something she was intrigued by and wanted to learnmore about, should he offer – so that explained the hesitation.

However,Riza felt a thrill of happiness as he gripped her hand tightly and hauledhimself up to his feet. With a sigh, another sniff, and a wipe of his eyes, Roynodded and was ready to return home. Riza gave him a quick smile and the tworushed into the rain and back to her home as quickly as they could.