#middle of a water runoff. then she was still able to keep going forward and only stopped when she got stuck in the mud as i tried to

[burger-goblin]

can i get an f in the chat

just had to send my 21-year old car off to the retirement home and, since she was my first car, i'm feeling like a big ol baby about it

[maleficarfic]

Hearts are Foolish Things

Pairing: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: Rain drives Aerith and Cloud into a chilly shelter on the road home from the church.

On AO3: Link

She’d felt the resonance. First, on the plate in Sector 8. Then, when he crashed through the roof and landed in the midst of her flowers.

Aerith knew better. She knew better than to want men whose eyes were the color of the sky, and she knew she only wanted this one because of the faint harmonies within him. He was bound up with Zack. She could close her eyes and—

She knew better.

But hearts were foolish things.

She followed Cloud Strife across the rooftops, peppering him with questions and dodging his own.

“Maybe,” she said with a laugh, “he thought I could be the greatest SOLDIER yet.”

Cloud let out a sigh of exasperation. “Forget it.”

Such a prickly creature. She half expected him to casually shove her off the rooftops just to be rid of her. But, no, he warned her as they came up to the thin pipe.

Was he as brave as he acted?

She wasn’t. As she pressed herself against the side of shanty home, her heart pounded in her chest. The ground was a long way away. If a SOLDIER fell, he might be fine, but her? It would hurt like a bitch.

“I… actually… haven’t traveled by rooftop before,” she said slowly as they ducked through a low overhang. Shredded awnings hung from the ceiling, creeping like spiderwebs against her naked arms.

Aerith shuddered.

“Be surprised if you had.”

She rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to erase the tickling feeling from her skin, and turned her eyes upward to a dusty, rickety ceiling. Was he capable of more than five words at a time? He was lucky he was so handsome.

But his sour attitude didn’t bring her down.

She watched him slide down a ladder, grinning over the edge of it. “It’s honestly kind of exciting.” She swung her legs around and slid down after he’d cleared it, her skirt floofing up.

He jerked away, scowling into the distance.

Red stained his cheeks, and Aerith’s grin turned mischievous and pleased.

“Well. First time and all.” He scratched at his chin, refusing to meet her eyes.

Aerith leaned toward him, her hands laced behind her back. “First times are very exciting. Aren’t they?” she asked, letting some of that desire seep into her voice.

His flush deepened. Blue-green eyes met hers and then darted away. He cleared his throat. Rocked back on his heels. “We should keep going.” Stepping around her, he resumed a much brisker pace than before.

Aerith trotted after him, pleased with herself. Little was as fun as making stoic men like him blush.

Quickly, though, he outpaced her. He leaped over the rooftops with ease, leaving her on the far side of a large jump.

Heart pounding so loud she felt her pulse in her ears, she peered over the edge.

With a strangled little sound, she jerked back. It was a long way down, even with all the progress they’d made.

When she glanced up, he was halfway around the corner of the next building. “Wait!” she called, clutching her hands to her chest. He wouldn’t abandon her. She knew that. For all his bluster and too-cool attitude, he wasn’t cruel. “Give me a moment, would you?”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at her. They stood too far apart for her to read his expression, but he turned back. He came back.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

Swallowing down her nerves, she took a step back and then flung herself forward.

The tip of her boot caught on the corrugated iron rooftop, and she pitched wildly forward, crying out with alarm. Her heart jumped into her throat, her stomach twisting into a sudden, vicious knot.

And then his hands, wrapped in warm leather, closed around her wrists. With inhuman strength, he pulled her against him, and Aerith collapsed into his arms. Safe. Warm. So warm. He smelled like sweat and dirt and the crackle of ozone, and she wanted to press her face against his neck and just breathe him in for hours.

One hand rested lightly on his chest. The other smoothed over his shoulder. “Thanks,” she said softly, smiling up at him.

He stared down at her, still faintly red.

“Maybe next time, you don’t run off on your own?”

He chuckled, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Those the words of a SOLDIER candidate?”

Oh, he had an adorable grin. And he teased her. He rose to her bait and gave as good as he got.

“So petty,” she huffed, but she kept smiling, too. Her arms twined around the back of his neck, and she leaned closer. Her lips brushed his ear, and his body tensed against hers. “Lucky for you, I like that.”

She drew back, sliding her body along his before pulling away, and left him standing behind her with a poleaxed expression. She also liked that, but he didn’t need to know that.

The sky grew darker, the plate’s shadow deeper.

Aerith paused on a rooftop, holding onto a half-rotted wooden pillar behind her. Tipping her head back, she peered at the sky above them. “Looks like rain.” As if to confirm her suspicions, thunder rolled on the plate’s horizon.

She glanced at Cloud. “We might want to find a place to wait out the storm.”

He frowned. “Won’t the plate—”

“Nope,” she said with good cheer.

People new to the ground often thought they were safe from storms. Not true. The slums covered by plates got the worst of it. Dirty rain water slipped between the gaps in a plate’s structure. The runoff dropped groundside long after the rain stopped plate side, dragging sludge and refuse from the plate above to the slums below.

“The plate makes storms gross. The stormwater is downright vile. We should find a place with a decent roof.”

Cloud crossed his arms, turning his frown on the nearby buildings. “So… no one lives in these buildings?” he asked hesitantly.

Aerith wondered why. Was he concerned about breaking into someone’s house or that he’d have a cute girl curling up against him when the water fell from the plate and turned everything chilly?

“Nope,” she said, sliding up to his side. He leaned back, but only a little. Only enough to meet her eyes. “No one to get mad if we make noise.”

His eyes widened.

Aerith pressed one finger to the middle of his chest. Pushed just enough to throw a normal person off balance. He, of course, didn’t move. “What’s that face for?” she asked with a laugh.

Turning, she ducked around the corner of a ramshackle building. The walls had buckled around the windows, so she passed that one by.

Behind her, she heard Cloud’s footsteps on the flimsy wood boards. “We might be able to get to the station before the rain… drips down from the plate?” He made the last bit of his statement into more of a question.

Aerith peered around his shoulder, squinting at the horizon beyond the steel sky. Heavy, dark clouds obscured the sun, painting the sky angry purples and blues. “No,” she said. “This storm is moving too quickly. And it’ll get too dark to see where we’re walking.”

She felt it in the distance. Rain pelted the cracked, dry earth outside of Midgar, those dead plains that wheezed and gasped for life.

Another peal of thunder rolled through the sky, louder this time. Lightning struck in the distance, fracturing like white veins against the clouds.

“This way.” She caught him by the wrist and tugged him after her, leading him deeper into the tangle of dilapidated homes.

The heavy clouds obscuring the setting sun cast the slums into darkness. Shadows deepened as Aerith and Cloud scoured homes in search of a roof that hadn’t split or fallen away. Eventually, he unsocketed one of his yellow materia, holding it up for light so they could see.

They’d just found an abandoned house with a serviceable roof when the first thick, black blob of runoff fell from the plate above them. Cloud stared at the dirty splotch on the pipe beneath their feet, his brows arched with surprise.

Another droplet plopped onto the pipe beside his boot, and Aerith grabbed his wrist with both hands. “You really don’t want that to fall on you,” she said, pulling him into the house.

He stumbled inside, catching himself on a large crate before he could topple over, and she gave him a flash of an apologetic smile.

Setting his sword and the yellow materia on the top of the box, he turned to the pockets in his pants. “Here,” he said, and he removed a handful more materia.

Purple, green, and yellow light filled the tiny house. A small fortune in materia cast strange shadows across the wood and corrugated iron.

Above them, fat runoff pinged against the roof, plinking out a staccato rhythm.

He frowned at the ceiling, sitting near the box.

Aerith laid her own staff on the box, unsocketing her materia, too. They’d want all the light they could get, no matter how strange the riot of color was.

“It gets really loud,” she said, lifting her voice so she could be heard over the sound of the runoff. She smoothed her skirt down her legs and sat opposite him, studying him.

Cloud winced, nodding.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. SOLDIERs had excellent senses. No doubt he found the sound irritating. She did, too, and she couldn’t hear someone drop a pin through three floors of concrete.

They sat for a moment in relative silence, listening to the rain pinging against the roof. As it began to pour down from the plate above in sheets, the air grew noticeably cooler. Aerith suppressed a shiver, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Cloud didn’t seem to notice the cold. His eyes kept skipping over her, studying the cast of the shadows over the room.

She took the opportunity to study his face. The green materia made his eyes brighter. The purple, almost magenta materia warmed his skin. And the yellow? It made his hair glow in the faint light.

Handsome. He was handsome, just like Zack. And when she stilled her mind and focused on her breathing, when she touched that warm, green place inside her heart, he felt like Zack, too. He felt like warmth and solace. He felt like safety and familiarity.

“It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?” she asked, rubbing her arms.

He made a soft sound of agreement, ducking his head to study the dusty floor.

Aerith scooted closer.

Zack was gone. She’d felt him go. There was no point in hanging onto him, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him. Cloud wasn’t Zack.

But hearts were foolish things. For just a moment, she wanted to feel close to him again.

Aerith laid her hand against Cloud’s upper arm.

He jumped, jerking his gaze to hers.

With a soft smile, she lifted her hand to his cheek. Her fingers feathered over his cheek. “You feel chilly.” Her thumb brushed his bottom lip. His mouth was perennially downturned, whether in a pout or a scowl she couldn’t say. But as her thumb traced the soft line of it, his lips parted, and the faintest bit of desire curled them.

She watched his eyes, feeling like she was falling off the edge of a plate and into the sky.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, but he didn’t look away.

“Maybe not to a SOLDIER,” she replied, rising to her knees at his side. Her other hand curved against his cheek. She cradled his face, and the chill in the air faded for the heat expanding like a slow-rolling thunderstorm inside her. “Help me ward of the chill, Mr. Bodyguard.”

His eyes widened for only a moment before a look of soft, simmering interest replaced surprise. “That costs extra.” His tone was playful. Kind. Inviting.

“How much?” Her fingers applied a gentle pressure, urging his head to tip backwards.

“We can negotiate a rate.” Hesitant hands settled on her hips. Slid higher.

Aerith inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut as his hands ran over her waist, beneath her jacket, and up her sides. “After?”

“After,” he agreed, and she bent her head to kiss him softly.

She felt more of his hesitation, but not unwillingness, no, for his lips parted beneath hers with a gusty sigh. He tasted shy and uncertain, his lips moving always a second later than hers, but she found she didn’t mind.

He gave her the space to lick into his mouth and discover heat beneath the uncertainty, and when she teased his tongue with hers, he rewarded her with an aching little moan.

Her hands slipped from his face. One slid behind his neck, her arm curving around him as she settled against his chest. His arm wound around her, too, banding about her waist to tug her closer. Her free hand ran down his neck and along his shoulder. She traced her fingertips over his bicep, drawing idle lines against his skin.

At his wrist, her fingers curved into the edge of his gauntlet. A gentle tug pulled the armor down his wrist and over the back of his hand. He pulled in the opposite direction, and the glove fell away.

His callused fingers brushed against her elbow as she turned her face, catching his mouth from a new, better angle. Like this, her hair fell over her shoulder and cut off the light from the materia. Heavy shadow obscured his face when she opened her eyes, but not so much that she could confuse him for someone else.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to climb into bed with a ghost; she wanted a living, breathing man with hot skin and hotter moans.

“Hey,” she whispered when his eyes met hers.

“Hey,” he whispered back, his hands easing up her body. One bare, one still in his glove, his hands paused just beneath her breasts.

A shiver ran down Aerith’s spine, but not from cold. Desire warmed her and deafened her to the pounding rain. All she heard was the beat of her heart and the whispering exhalations of Cloud’s every breath.

She kissed him again, hungrier this time. Their mouths fit together, and she sank against him, sank into the heat of his body and the warmth of his kiss.

His hands slid up, slid over her breasts, slid to her shoulders where he pushed at her jacket. She arched her back, drawing her hands from him. The heavy denim jacket dropped to the ground behind her, and she left it there, forgotten.

Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her skirt climbed high on her thighs as she slipped into his lap, her legs bracketing his.

She settled against him as her fingers drove into his hair. An easy pressure with her fingers cajoled his head to turn, to tip to the side so she could slide her tongue into his mouth and devour her.

His arms came around her. She felt the brush of them against her sides as he yanked off his other glove. Then his hands were on her again, curving over her ass as he drew her hard against him.

The strength of his grasp made her moan.

“Sorry,” he gasped into their kiss.

“No.” She nipped at his lower lip. “No, it felt good. Feels good. You feel good, Cloud.”

Her hips pressed against his, desperately seeking friction and contact. Between her legs, she felt the line of his cock against her thigh. A shuddering heat rippled through her, and she rolled her body against his for the exquisite pleasure of feeling his desire.

She made quick work of his pauldron, unsnapping it from his suspenders.

It clanked to the ground. He shoved it further aside and then returned his hands to her. One hand pressed against the small of her back, urging her to move against him again. His other hand pressed between them and brushed against her belly. His fingers danced against her, making her gasp and then laugh. He tugged loose the tie around her stomach, and then his fingers lifted to the buttons.

He paused, drawing back. “This okay?”

Aerith brushed her nose alongside his. “Remember when I said there isn’t anyone in these houses?”

He watched her with wide eyes. When he spoke, he was breathless. “Yeah. I do.”

“Remember how I said no one will get mad if we make noise?”

He nodded, his fingers fiddling with the button between her breasts. Each little motion rubbed his knuckles against her skin, and the teasing promise of touch through fabric made her ache.

“Make me scream for you, Cloud.”

The button popped off. He jerked her hard against him, fitting her hips to his. Their mouths crashed together, their kisses hard and fast and good, yes, so good. She moaned against his mouth as her fingers raked down his chest and yanked at his shirt.

He shimmied, letting his suspenders fall over his shoulders, and then grabbed the back of his shirt. He pulled it over his head in a fluid motion, setting it beside them, and then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her to her back beneath him.

She gasped, laying panting on his shirt as he dropped his mouth to her chest. Hungry, sucking kisses danced down her chest. His tongue traced the edge of her dress.

“Yes,” she breathed, arching her back for him.

She caught the heel of one boot with the toe of the other, kicking first one and then the other off her feet and out of their way.

In the mad rush to lose their clothes, she yanked open his pants, and he rucked her skirt up to her hips. He left her dress buttoned, sitting back on his heels to take in the sight of her.

The weight of his gaze made her burn. He devoured her with hungry eyes, sweeping his hands up the inside of her legs.

He bent, brushing his nose against her cunt through her panties, and Aerith gasped.

“Kiss me.” Her fingers combed through his hair, her legs falling wide to accommodate the delicious breadth of his shoulders.

She urged him closer, and his lips pressed against her.

A broken moan fell from her lips.

He tugged her panties to the side, revealing her cunt. The heat of his breath washed over her like a warm wave, leaving her delirious for more. She didn’t tug him closer, though; she let him take his time. Let him study her.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and she shivered beneath him. “Like when you move like that.” He shifted closer, and his lips brushed against her slick flesh.

She moaned his name for him as fire swirled through her—and then she cried out for him as he ran his tongue up the length of her.

If he’d never done this before, it didn’t show. He tasted her with long, deliberate strokes that had her aching. And when she sank too easily into those motions, her hips rolling with each drag of his tongue, he slid two fingers inside her and ran the tip of his tongue around her clit.

No, he’d definitely done this before.

She was so grateful to whomever had come before her as Cloud’s fingers curled inside her. He started an even pace, testing to find out what she liked, and then moved faster to keep time with the rolling of her hips and the aching cries that spilled out of her.

Her fingers clenched and tugged in his hair. She arched her hips against his mouth and keened for him. Decadent tension built between her legs, a slowly increasing burn that spread through her entire body. She could float in this forever, she thought, opening her eyes to stare blankly at the wash of rainbow color no the ceiling. She could lay on the dusty floor and let Cloud fuck her with his tongue until she expired from the lingering pleasure of it.

But he didn’t give her eternity. He pressed her, he pushed her. His tongue flicked against her clit as his fingers worked inside her, and he cajoled her deeper into the consuming flames of pleasure.

She came with sobbing cry, her back arching off the floor. Her toes curled, her legs wrapping almost violently around his sides as she clutched him against her and her cunt clenched around him.

Her breath stuttered and shuddered along with her body. Sweet ecstasy prickled her skin and clouded her vision.

“Kiss me,” she begged him, her hands pressing against his shoulders to urge him up.

Cloud slipped up her body. Curving his fingers around the back of her neck, he lifted her into a kiss that tasted sharp and tart and sweet. She licked herself off his lips as she pushed her fingers into his pants to stroke the length of his cock.

He broke away to groan her name. The arm bracing his body above hers trembled.

“If you keep that up…”

She smiled at him. “Will you fall on top of me?” She squeezed his cock, and he swore. “Let me ride you, then.”

Cloud didn’t hesitate. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him. She heard the thunk of his boots hitting the ground as she pushed his pants down his hips. His hands joined hers, and then his feet dragged his pants lower.

She settled astride him. A roll of her hips caught his cock between the lips of her cunt, and Cloud made the kind of sound that nearly killed her. She adored that sound on a man’s lips.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned.

Aerith moaned, too, head falling to the side. “The best kind of death. Good thing you have tufts of phoenix down.” But items didn’t save a man from the kind of death that came with sex.

She rocked her hips against him, dragging her cunt along his length. With every roll of her hips, she rubbed her clit over him. The pleasure of it made her shudder—made him shudder. She let him soak in it as she did, working herself against him so she could burn as hot and bright as she had when he’d had his fingers in her and his mouth on her.

His hands swept up her hips. He plucked at the buttons of her dress, opening the front of it so he could fill his hands with her breasts.

She gasped, her hips moving sharply against him as her cunt clenched on nothing. Rough calluses against her skin. Delicious texture. Her nipples hardened under his touch, and with a glance at her face, he closed his fingers around the little nubs.

An aching moan spilled out of her as he pinched her nipples. A louder one filled the air when he released one nipple, surging up to close his mouth around abused flesh.

Wet heat seared her. Need blazed inside her.

She reached beneath her skirt, catching his cock in her fingers. As he sucked her nipple hard, she sank down on him, and the burning stretch of it was good, so good. She pressed her cheek against the top of his head, gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

His hands stayed gentle on her hips. A light pressure showed her how he wanted her to move, and she rocked against him to the rhythm he so sweetly asked for.

The hot brand of his cock rubbed against already sensitive flesh. She groaned again, almost whimpering when he released her nipple and tipped his head back to look at her.

Sky blue eyes met hers. She fell into them, fell into the sky as he moved inside her. Wind rushed through her hair. She soared on the front of the thunderstorm as it crashed furiously over the city. The storm screamed in the face of Shinra’s hubris, and she screamed with it as Cloud’s fingers slipped beneath her dress to dance over her clit.

She came at least twice for him, her cries sounding with the thunder as he clutched her to him. And when she shuddered against him the last time, he rolled her to her back so he could fuck her the way he needed to.

A few hard thrusts left him shaking over her. His fingers slid into her hair, and he kissed her rough and hard as he spilled inside her.

They lay there for a long time.

Slowly, she began to hear the sound of runoff on the roof. Gradually, she felt the warmth of sex recede for the chill of the storm.

She smiled faintly. “Good thing there aren’t any neighbors to bother.”

Cloud huffed out a chuckle. “Not sure I’d care if there were.”

No, she wouldn’t have cared either.

Hearts were foolish things, but it felt good to feel cherished again. The neighbors could go to hell for all she cared.

[lilhemmo]

find me {where the wild things are}

a/n: for the @southsidearchive​ santa exchange, i got @findmeinpops​ for my secret santa! harry, i really hope you like it! i’m sO SORRY about the lateness. i’ve got two more fics coming for you soon to make up for it!!

pairing: Sweet Pea x fem!reader

trigger/warnings: a little blood (forgive him, he’s fighting a dragon); mentions of cursing; 

summary: Sweet Pea has never been a fan of magic. He’s also never been a fan of dragons. Kind of ironic that one needs slaying.

ao3 | wattpad | writing tag

LINK TO THE SOUTHSIDE ARCHIVE AO3 COLLECTION

It was not an easy decision, but money makes the man move, or so they say.

Desperation forces him to make the decision - eat or be eaten, so to speak. And this time, it is not just a metaphor, it’s a reality.

Sweet Pea is looking up at a dragon.

Sweet Pea hates dragons.

Kind of ironic that one needs slaying.

The sword lies heavy in his hands as he twirls the hilt in his grip, a deep breath inhaled through his lungs. He mutters a curse under his breath, rolling his eyes as the dragon reels its heavy head.

“Here we go,” he mutters, taking muddy steps forward, baring his teeth to the beast who holds his fate.

-

Drenched in sweat, caked in blood, Sweet Pea rolls his shoulders and his head lolls but he forces himself to keep upright so he can finish this dragon. 

It is bleeding from it’s neck and it’s underbelly, groaning and roaring every time it moves too quickly. A particularly loud wail echoes from its lips and Sweet Pea cracks his neck, taking a breath before pushing into another wave of attacks and parries.

“Hold on!” a voice echoes from the entrance of the cave.

Sweet Pea turns his head, momentarily distracted from the beast. He squints to get a better look at you, hands trembling as he attempts to keep the sword within his grasp.

The staff within your grasp glows a muted purple, sparks of energy flying off of it as you dig it into the dirt. You motion to the man with your head, smiling gently, “I can dull its senses if you give me a moment to recite a spell.”

Sweet Pea has never been a fan of magic.

Then again, he’s also never been a fan of dragons.

His nostrils flare as he takes you in, large cloak and wooden staff, “I will not be sharing my reward with you, mage.”

You snort, tapping your staff into the ground three times. The scent of the forest wafts in the air, swirling like a cloud of smoke towards the dragon. He feels his chest tighten, but somehow the ripped skin on his arms begins to stitch back together. 

“I need no reward,” you murmur as you step closer to him, still clutching the staff tightly in your grasp. You gesture with your free hand, two fingers in the air as you recite another spell under your breath, one that will now calm the dragon - freeing it of pain while also sidling it’s ferocity. 

Sweet Pea is able to slice his sword through a vulnerable place in the dragon’s scales. The dragon falls and the earth shakes, both of you having to steady yourselves against the wobbly ground. Once the dust settles, Sweet Pea turns his eyes on you and crosses the space between you within seconds.

“I said no splitting of the reward, mage,” he seethes, a finger pressed to your chest. He cuts his eyes downward, “I did not need your aid.”

You raise a brow, instead tilting yourself toward him, your own finger pressed between his pectorals, “Ah, yes, because you are soaked in dragon-blood, your boots are saturated with your own stench, and you definitely could have swung that sword one more time, I’m sure.”

That comment sets him backward, visibly wounding him. You smirk, twirling your staff between your fingers, “Is there anything specific you need from this beast? I do not need the reward, but I do need bits and pieces from the body for my stock.”

Sweet Pea is still reeling from your finger in his chest, the ghost of your touch resting there. He coughs to bring himself back to reality, stepping closer to the lifeless dragon, scales glinting like fire in the afternoon sunlight. Swallowing, he runs a hand over one of the feet, the claw blackened with earth.

“I will need to pluck the scales - they’re one of the most profitable bits. The teeth, too.”

“Great,” you smile, climbing up the arm towards the neck. “I just need the eyes and the claws. You can have the rest.”

Sweet Pea was not a fan of magic. 

But you might just change his mind.

-

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this!” you shout over the whirlwinds of the sea.

Sweet Pea narrows his eyes at you, “Mage, I was not aware you were to be onboard.”

You nod, fighting a smirk. He has windswept hair, a billowing white blouse adorned on his torso with tight-fitting pants to match. It’s enough to make anyone’s knees go weak.

“Well, when I heard you were a passenger, I knew you’d need my help eventually,” you manage before waving your staff in three circles, chanting a familiar calming spell under your breath. 

It takes a few moments, but the waves calm and the spirits of the ocean stop their chattering. You fall to your knees, surprised to feel a pair of arms circle around your shoulders to help you steady yourself.

You glance up at him, a thank you rolling off your lips just before your staff clatters to the deck and your body is soon to follow.

-

“Lilith, please-”

“Calm down, Pea. I’ve healed a few times in my life.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry.”

Your eyes peel open, senses groggy and dulled with some sort of herb that still tastes bitter in your mouth.

“Shh, she’s awake.”

The room is swaying and it takes you a moment to remember you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean. When you remember the storm, you bolt upward, two pairs of hands on either side of your shoulders, hushing you and reminding you to take it slow.

“The storm,” you mutter, groaning at the feeling of your stomach swimming in its own acid.

Sweet Pea’s voice is soft, “You quelled it. You need rest.”

You shake your head, “Must watch over the ship.”

“We’re in calm waters now,” a careful voice speaks from beside you, opposite of Sweet Pea. Her skin is dark and her eyes are violet and there is a thrum of some kind of bond that flows through you.

“Healing Mage?” you murmur in a question.

She removes her hood and dark curls spring forth, woven with gold to match the tattoos on her face. The two of you share a smile as she replies, “Yes, love. You are a spellcaster, I assume? The waving of your staff on the deck would suggest so.”

“Born with magic.” You turn to look at Sweet Pea, who looks mildly perturbed at the revelation. Reaching out, you take his hand, “Thank you, for not letting me pass out on the deck alone.”

He shrugs, sitting down on your bedside, “You did save me the embarrassment of being killed by a dragon. I owed you.”

“I suppose you did,” you respond, finding his hand amidst the blankets currently bunched up around your body. Your voice turns earnest, something you hadn’t meant to happen, “Thank you.”

The way he looks down at you makes something twitch in your chest and you wish you were strong enough to cast a spell to take you somewhere else, anywhere else, but here. 

-

“I thought you hated magic?”

“What made you think that?”

You snort, watching as he takes up the entirety of your doorway, “The absolute look of disgust on your face every time I use my wand was a bit of a dead giveaway.”

He shrugs, stepping inside and closing the wooden door behind him with a loud thud. Sweet Pea thumbs through a few of your spell books as he takes steps to become closer to you.

“What can I help you with?” you ask after a few moments of silence.

Sweet Pea tilts his head, looking you in the eyes. You can’t help the smirk that tugs on your lips, and you’re thankful for it when it makes him chuckle.

He bites his lip, “My fields, the crops, they’re dying. The runoff from the kingdom is poisoning my land. I feed too many of the southern part of the kingdom to allow this to continue.”

“You feed the Southside?” you question, pushing your way through various bottles with different colored liquid. A few ingredients find their way to your worktable with the simple wave of your hand.

Sweet Pea nods, “Yes, the responsibility of the Serpent clan tends to fall on my shoulders. I inherited my land from my mother before she passed.”

He waits while you thumb through your potions and ingredients, the bottles and boxes floating through the air as you choose them. You laugh at a certain container and the sound brings a gentle smile to his lips.

“My father was from the Southside,” you mention.

You turn and begin concocting some sort of magical substance within a big, black pot that Sweet Pea will come to learn as a cauldron. His eyes track your motions as you flit about within your home, comfortable and fluid as you traipse throughout the space.

“Does the Jones family still live there?” you ask, trying to fill the empty void with some sort of conversation. “I once knew Forsythe’s son, but it has been a few years since we last spoke.”

Sweet Pea finds a seat at your table, his large frame folding in the small space, “Yes, Forsythe and his son still lead the Southside to some extent. They are the ones we send to meet with the king when there are needs we cannot fulfill ourselves.”

“Is that why you’re here?” 

He stops, unable to find an answer.

In the lack of speech, you can’t hold back a laugh. You turn to him, your thigh brushing against his knee as your potion bubbles. You tilt your head, “Sweet Pea, I’m teasing. Lighten your spirits.”

“Magic makes me uneasy,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Then why are you here?”

His silence is your answer.

-

The Southside’s crops flourish and you start to get more visitors.

First, it is Forsythe’s son. He remembers you from your childhood, before you fled the Southside after your father’s untimely death. 

Then, it is a young woman named Elizabeth, betrothed to Forsythe. He brings her to visit you, asking for some sort of potion that you’d rather not repeat to the general public.

Another time, it is a bombshell of a woman who introduces herself as Antoinette. You mesh with her easily, as she is trying to learn magic but mostly has a gift for healing. Your talents do not lend to healing easily, but you can work at it enough to teach her.

Sweet Pea is always their guide, finding his way to your home at least once every few weeks with some need for another potion or another spell or another enchantment or another magic item.

“If you would like to visit me, you can come alone, you know.”

It catches him by surprise as he ushers Antoinette out the door one evening. The moonlight glints in his eyes as he looks at you over his shoulder, his bottom lip dropping just enough to bare his teeth.

“I may have to take you up on that next time,” he manages before shutting the door behind him.

Your heart squeezes and you wonder if he’s telling the truth.

Your hands itch to craft a truth serum.

You restrain yourself.

-

It takes him another three months, but when your doorbell chimes, only one set of boots walks over your threshold.

“What is it you ne-oh, Sweet Pea.”

He looks tense - shoulders tight and jaw muscles taut. He ducks into your den, licking his lips as he attempts his first sentence.

“I, uh, I thought that I might-er, take you up on your offer?”

You find it in you to laugh, stepping forward to touch his bicep with just the tips of your fingers, “Great, I’ve just put the teapot on. Do you like earl gray?”

The tea does not have truth serum, you swear.

But somehow he wants to spill all of his secrets.

It takes an hour, but eventually he asks: “Did you cast a spell on me?”

The tea is cold against your lips, mug almost full thanks to the words that have superfluously flown from your lips since the moment you sat in front of him. You shake your head, setting the mug down on your tabletop, “No, I forced myself to stray from magic today, once you stopped by my door.”

“My father was murdered with magic,” he speaks quietly, covering his mouth with his mug after the revelation has been spoken.

You want to rush to him, to hold him by the cheeks and apologize for all of the nasty magic-wielders you’ve ever known and all those who might have had a hand in harming him.

“Nothing you can do,” Sweet Pea speaks curtly as if reading your mind. 

“I know,” you answer, “doesn’t mean I can’t be angered.”

Sweet Pea places his mug on the table next to yours and when his knuckles brush your own, electricity sparks up your veins. One of the side effects of having magic in your veins means that you feel things one thousand percent more than the average human.

“I’ve never met a good, honest wielder of magic,” Sweet Pea continues. He sighs and chews on the inside of his lip, “When I met you in the dragon’s cavern, I wasn’t sure if I should kill you or not.”

You scoot yourself closer to him, your chair scraping against the wooden floor beneath you. His eyes dart to yours, dark and tumultuous. You want to reach out, to graze your fingertips against his thigh, but you hold yourself back.

“Have you discovered what decision you should have made?” you ask, breathless.

Sweet Pea’s palm is warm when it connects with your knee, burning through the flimsy fabric of your skirt. Immediately, you cover his hand with your own, curling your fingers around his knuckles. His breath hitches and his throat bobs, but he answers you anyway.

“I know now killing you was not the right answer,” Sweet Pea leans in close to you, the tea on his lips tantalizing as his body tilts toward you. He licks his lips and you follow the motion with your eyes, wondering what his tongue would feel like against yours. 

“Now,” he whispers, “I’m wondering whether or not to kiss you.”

You can’t help the smirk that grows on your lips, “Oh, fear not, I can make that decision for you.”

Your mouth against his sparks some sort of electricity, but in the warmest, most inviting way. Tingles spread down from the base of your neck, pooling in your stomach as his lips move slowly, torturously against yours. 

One of his hands is in your hair, the other trailing its way up your thigh towards your hip, dragging you closer to him with every gentle noise your mouths make. He lets a groan echo from the back of his throat and you feel a certain twinge at the base of your spine which launches you forward, knees on either side of his hips as you settle against his body.

“At least one of us is decisive,” he mutters as his hands traverse your body. A smile turns his lips upward and you can feel it against your mouth, “If it were up to me alone, we would still be mixing elixirs.”

You roll your eyes as you pull away, thumbing through his hair, “I can mix you an elixir, Southsider. It’ll blow your mind.”

A soft look overtakes his face, his eyes gentle and his touch even sweeter, “You blow my mind, sunshine. No elixir required.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you kiss him instead.

As you feel his spirit wash over you like sunlight, you realize he’s right - absolutely no magic required.

-

a/n: ahhhh this turned out better than i hoped??? but also not as great??? i dunno i just want you to love it!! i plan on writing for your other two prompts as well, but a family emergency popped up so i wasn’t able to get them all done in time, but i plan on posting them anyway! @findmeinpops​ again, i’m so so sorry i didn’t get this to you for christmas, but hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me!! 

[purplemaple-xoxo]

Dog vs. Dog Chapter 1

A series of one-shot’s detailing the shenanigans that Amestris’ top dogs get into. Roy Mustang and Black Hayate compete for Riza’s affections, creating a world of shenanigan’s for the Lieutenant.

Thanks to @allisontherumorhargreeves for being my beta!

Also posted on FF.net

“Come on Hayate, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to come with me.” Roy’s tone was calm as he slowly approached the dog, a towel draped between his outstretched arms. He avoided using the dreaded ‘B’ word.

Riza’s words repeated in his head like a mantra.

“Remember to keep a tight hold on his leash, he gets excited when he sees mud. And he’s stronger than he looks.”

Roy mostly remembered scoffing at the idea. Hayate was only a few weeks old, he couldn’t be that strong.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

“Hayate, it’s just water. Don’t you want to be nice and clean when your mom gets back?”

Hayate sat calmly, his head tilted to the side at the mention of his master. His dark eyes barely distinguishable against the mud embedded deeply into his thick fur, he stuck his tongue out in doggy glee.

“I should jump him now while he’s calm. 1.. 2.. 3!”

Roy quickly lunged at the dog…only to land flat on his stomach. Hayate was already on the other side of Riza’s small apartment.

“Why did Fuery pick today of all days to be sick?!” Roy groaned as he slowly got up on his knees and crossed his arms, eyeing Hayate as he did so.

“You know your mom isn’t going to like that you got dirty and messed up her apartment.”

That seemed to get Hayate’s attention as his ears flattened against his head as he bowed forward.

“You’ve shown your hand, my dear friend.”

“I know you’re upset about Hawkeye being gone, but Catalina has dragged her out shopping. And I know I’m not as fun as Fuery but I know your mom wouldn’t be happy to know you didn’t listen to me.”

Roy tried to hide his satisfied smirk as Hayate ducked his head further in doggy guilt.

“Now come here Black Hayate so I can wash you up.”

Hayate slowly got up and walked over to him.

“That’s a good boy,” Roy spoke with pride as he went to scoop up Hayate “now let’s give you a bath.”

As soon as he spoke, he knew he messed up. Hayate quickly darted away when he realized what going with the Colonel meant.

Roy was able to grab Hayate around the chest but quickly let go when the dog gave a loud yip, afraid he had hurt the poor puppy. He watched as Hayate darted away, he laid down fully on the ground in defeat.

After a while, Hayate came out of his hiding spot and crept into the small living room. He noticed the dark-haired man was lying face down on the floor. He didn’t appear to be moving. He slowly approached and took a chance by sniffing his head. Yup, still alive. Hayate proceeded to sniff around the man before he was abruptly lifted off the ground and was quickly thrown in the bathtub, the psychotic man soon joining him.

Roy quickly turned on the water as Hayate tried desperately to grasp the edge of the tub to make his escape. He quickly grabbed some of Hayate’s soap and began lathering it into the frantic pups fur.

“Cut me some slack here Hayate! Let me prove to Hawkeye that I can do this!”

Hayate continued to scramble around the porcelain tub.

“That’s an order Second Lieutenant! I command you to sit!”

That got Hayate’s attention, and the pup immediately sat down. Roy let out a sigh of relief as he could now calmly wash the mud from his fur. Even though his shirt and trousers were soaked, he relished in the calm and actually took the moment to study the pup.

He could clearly see why Fuery had taken the pup in during the rainstorm. Those brown eyes were irresistible, much like his owners. Roy quickly shook his head of THAT thought, now wasn’t the time or place, and he returned himself to his task. Even through the dirt, Hayate’s fur was still incredibly soft, and who could resist those little ears?!

Once the runoff from Hayate’s fur was no longer brown Roy reached over for the towel he hastily discarded when he first charged through.

“Now that is over with, let’s dry you off.” As he was about to wrap the pup up in the towel Hayate got a burst of energy and launched himself out of the tub and out the door that Roy forgot to close in his haste.

“Just my luck. Hayate! COME HERE!”

Roy tried desperately to not slip on the hardwood floor as he skidded after Hayate. Both having trouble nearly colliding with furniture. When Hayate booked it around the couch to fast he slipped in a puddle, but before he would crash into the floor he was swept up and smothered with a towel.

“Yes, victory is mine Black Hayate! Now to finally dry you off before Hawkeye gets home.”

“It’s a little late for that sir.”

Both Roy and Hayate froze and slowly turned to the front entrance to see Riza standing there with her arms full of bags.

“Hi Lieutenant, how was shopping with Catalina?” Roy spoke nervously as he gently placed Hayate on the ground so he could greet his master.

“Sir, is there a reason why both you and my living room floor are soaked? And why is Black Hayate wet as well?” Riza asked as she bent down to deposit her bags before scooping the small pup up.

Hayate knew that his master’s attention was fully on him and wagged his tail excitedly, once Riza had picked him up he nestled into her neck and closed his eyes contently. Much to the annoyance of the sopping wet Colonel.

“Care to answer my question Colonel?”

“Well, it all started when I decided to take Hayate for a walk…”

-/-/-

“Hayate heal! The park isn’t going anywhere!” Roy tried to pull Hayate back without hurting him. But Hayate was determined to get to the park as quickly as possible. Not caring if the Colonel was struggling to keep up with the small puppy’s questionably rapid pace.

Roy just rolled his eyes as he sped up his gait and let Hayate lead him to one of East Cities many parks. Both the Colonel and puppy slowed down when they finally entered the park.

Roy let Hayate sniff around a section of bushes as he looked around the park. It was Saturday so many families were enjoying the sunny afternoon. It had rained the previous night, and both Roy and others were trying their best to keep their dogs and children out of the muk.

“That’s a cute dog there mister. What’s its name?”

Roy snapped out of his trance and looked over to see a little girl standing beside him. Her large hazel eyes were glued to Hayate as he finished his business and trotted back over to meet the child.

“His name is Black Hayate.” Roy responded as he watched the small child reach out a hand to let Hayate sniff.

“May I pet your dog? My mommy says you have to ask before petting a stranger’s dog.”

“Yes, you can pet him.” Roy smiled at the little girl’s enthusiasm as she gave Hayate scratches behind the ear and chin.

“Mary! There you are! Don’t go running away from me like that!”

Roy and Mary both looked up to see a tall red-headed woman making her way over to the pair. A scowl etched on her face.

“I’m sorry mommy! But I wanted to see the dog! This man said I could pet him!”

“I’m terribly sorry about my daughter, Mister?”

“Mustang, Roy Mustang.” Roy spoke.

“Mustang… as in Colonel Roy Mustang?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yes, I am Colonel Roy Mustang.” The way her face brightened made him nervous.

“It’s such an honor to meet you, you hear all these stories.” He knew that look and forced himself to stop from rolling his eyes.

“I can assure you, the papers tend to exaggerate.” He tapped Hayate’s back leg with his foot. He was Riza’s dog and therefore a genius, right?

He was just like his owner though, sitting down and watching him try to get out of a jam without Riza’s help. If he didn’t know any better the pooch was entertained.

“Not some things, Mr. Mustang.” She gave him a long, approving up and down. “You’re much more handsome than the pictures they print you know.” She looked about ready to eat him alive and Roy cleared his throat, reaching for his watch and flipping it open.

“I’m late to get him back to my fiancée, apologies. She’ll be worried I let him run off.” He gave her a trademark Mustang smile, which while almost automatic, didn’t help his case.

“It was nice meeting you, ma’am.”

Roy quickly turned and lead Hayate away from the mother and daughter pair,  putting as much distance between them as possible.

“Well, that couldn’t have gotten any weirder. Don’t date Hayate.”

Roy looked down at his companion who didn’t really seem interested in the conversation, rather taking interest in the obscenely large mud puddles.

“Hayate no. Hawkeye said no mud for you. Now let’s go back home.”

Hayate stopped in the middle of the path, causing the Colonel to stop as well and stare at the puppy.

“Come on Hayate. Let’s go.”

But Hayate wouldn’t move an inch, he decided to sit instead.

“Hayate why are you doing this? I played tug of war with you, I fed you, I took you to the park. What more do you want?” Roy waited as Hayate seemed to contemplate the question before looking over at a puddle of mud.

“No way Hayate. Don’t you think for a second that I would let you NEAR that. We are heading straight home.”

Roy tried tugging on the leash to no success. Hayate wouldn’t budge, he just kept looking longingly over at the puddles.

“Don’t give me that look Hayate, I’m the one in charge here. I’m also your superior officer, therefore, I command you to return home.

Roy would later claim that the little dots above Hayate’s eyes lowered as if to challenge him. Roy raised his own eyebrows before Hayate was gone, the leash ripped from his hands and was halfway to the mud puddles.

“Hayate NO!” Roy yelled, but it was too late. Hayate was already rolling around in the mud, Roy could see it be smothered deeper and deeper into his fur. Turning the white of his fur a deep brown.

“Hawkeye is going to kill me.”

-/-/-

“That’s your story?”

“That’s my story.”

“So you think Hayate was being spiteful towards you because a woman was flirting with you? You shouldn’t let him take advantage of you Colonel. That’s how dogs develop bad habits.” Hawkeye spoke as she walked past the Colonel, Black Hayate still firmly nestled in her arms.

“He yanked his leash out of my hand! What was I supposed to do?!”

“Not let him. He is only a puppy, sir.”

“A freakishly strong puppy! Are you sure he’s not somehow related to the Armstrong family?”

Her laugh could light up the darkest of nights.

“Yes sir, I’m positive Buraha isn’t an Armstrong.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Roy watched as Hayate made direct eye contact with him as he enjoyed Riza’s affection. Making the Colonel scowl.

“Well, I better be going Lieutenant. I’m sorry for the state of your apartment.”

“That is quite alright sir. Thank you for watching Hayate for me.”

“It was my pleasure Lieutenant.” Roy spoke as he made his way to the door. Riza put Hayate down to escort the Colonel out.

“I’m sorry Hayate wasn’t well behaved.”

“He’s still a puppy Lieutenant. Besides, he seems to be quite taken with you.”

“Yes, I guess he has.” Riza spoke fondly as she turned back into the apartment to give the small dog a smile.

“Good night Lieutenant.”

“Good night Colonel.”

The smile she gave him before the door separated them stuck with him for the rest of the week.