#AND WATCHING HUGH FIND HER AND NOT BEING ABLE TO COMFORT HIM OR APOLOGIZE OR SAY GOODBYE OR ANYTHING NOT BEING ABLE TO REACH HIM AT ALL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more.

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking.

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something.

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine.

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight.

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation.

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life.

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera.

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in.

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller.

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying.

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe.

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say.

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves.

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully.

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room.

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him.

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that.

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet.

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending.

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk.

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then.

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk,

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was.

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue.

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published.

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house.

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced.

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door.

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all.

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment.

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave.

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there.

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.”

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone.

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall.

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth.

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account.

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway.

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate.

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before.

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins.

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly.

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed,

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.”

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed.

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you,

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit.

“Dick.”

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway,

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.”

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one.

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week.

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass.

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something.

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved.

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump.

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year.

Disappointment.

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come.

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you.

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.”

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his.

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no.

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears.

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out.

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink.

That was the day he began writing his first novel.

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket.

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely.

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam.

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new.

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding.

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him,

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head.

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that.

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile.

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand.

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal.

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine.

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.”

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side.

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive?

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house.

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing.

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair.

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it.

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh.

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed.

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh.

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you.

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning.

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs.

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs.

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even.

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you.

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking.

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard.

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him.

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared.

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him.

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck.

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee.

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip.

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts.

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement.

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting.

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you.

“Ransom-”

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further.

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like.

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body.

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum.

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago.

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face.

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

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generallynerdy · 3 years

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I wonder if he can taste the sadness (Ahsoka Tano & Anakin Skywalker & Rex)

Summary: Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and— “Master!” she cries, leaping up. Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation. “Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?” In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved. She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Warnings: major character death, lightsaber wounds, lots of children die but only one is shown, canon genocide, canon divergence but only to make it sadder Word Count: 1,826

Prompt: Angstpril Day 4 - Betrayal

Author’s Note: WOWWW why do I do this to myself lmfao. I was like ‘oh hey what if Ahsoka was in the Temple during Order 66 would that suck or what’ and then I. Wrote it. For some reason. I’m sick and twisted. Also, not to make you sadder or anything, but can you imagine Obi-Wan finding her body? Shit dude. Anyway, you might think Anakin wouldn’t go to the dark side if the whole Ahsoka thing hadn’t happened, but, like...he already murdered a village of Tuskens before the Clone Wars. I do not doubt that it would’ve happened somehow. I know this is super late but I wanna get all my Angstpril stuff written down no matter how late it is or else I’m gonna feel terrible about it. Title is from My Mother, My Mother by Luther Hughes. (Also, Jinnel, the Kiffar, and her future Master are my ocs. Zett is a canon character but he has barely any appearances so, uh, dibs.)

Read on AO3

“Master Nu! I was just looking for you in the archives.”

Ahsoka bears a wide smile as the old Master of the archives turns to her. The young Padawan, though not so young now she thinks, bears a couple of datapads, old ones she’d borrowed before her last assignment.

“Ah, Padawan Tano. Apologies, but I’m a bit occupied at the moment.”

She gestures behind her, where a youngling Clan chatters excitedly. At the sight of Ahsoka, one Nautolan girl lights up and turns to her friend, whispering furiously.

Ahsoka smiles and waves a little, getting a few waves back. “Sorry, Master, I didn’t realise. I can come back later,” she offers.

“That’s quite alright.” Master Nu waves her off. “Just leave it on my desk, and I—”

She stops. Her gaze drifts to the far end of the hallway, but when Ahsoka follows it, she finds nothing there. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, but then she feels it, too: a roil of darkness and fear.

“What is that?” she whispers, unmoving.

The younglings finally notice, a long moment after their seniors, and begin speaking frantically.

“Is the Temple under attack?”

“What do we do, Master Nu?”

“What’s happening?”

“I have to go find my Master!”

With a raised hand, Master Nu silences them all. “Quiet.” Quickly glancing around, she spots a meditation room with an open door. “Quickly, into the meditation room. Padawan Tano, watch our backs.”

“Yes, Master.”

The younglings file into the room obediently, still whispering to one another. One girl, a young Kiffar, bursts into tears, so Ahsoka pulls her aside immediately.

“My Master left to go to the Senate Building,” the Initiate blubbers. “She doesn’t know we’re in danger! I have to find her!”

(She’s too young to have a Master, Ahsoka realises, and doesn’t have a Padawan braid. The Master must’ve found her on a Search and bonded with her.)

“See if you can contact her on your comm, but you need to stay here until we know what’s going on, okay?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t leave her!”

“I understand. My Master is out there somewhere, too,” Ahsoka tries to reassure. “But I can’t let you leave alone, either. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll go find her together.”

The Initiate wipes at her eyes and nods, following the rest of her clan into the meditation room. Ahsoka looks back to Master Nu, who is glancing down the hall with wide, horrified eyes. Something has pulled in the Force.

Someone skids to a stop around the corner.

It’s a young human boy, a Padawan that Ahsoka has seen trailing behind Master Drallig for the last few weeks. On his sleeve, a scorch mark has burned through the fabric to his skin: a blaster wound.

At the sight of Master Nu and Ahsoka, his face twists in relief and he runs toward them.

“Zett,” Master Nu breathes out, taking his arm as soon as he’s close. “What’s going on?”

Through panting breaths, he speaks the impossible. “The clones—the clones are killing us!” he cries. “They got Master Drallig and I can’t find the Council—”

“What?” Ahsoka questions fiercely. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but I really saw it! It’s the 501st, they have their armour and everything and they’re killing everybody—!”

Master Nu squeezes his uninjured shoulder. “Breathe, Padawan. I believe you.”

“What!?” Ahsoka turns on her. “They would never—!”

“It may be someone else in that armour, but you know he’s telling the truth, Ahsoka. You can feel it,” she says warningly. “Don’t let emotion cloud your instincts.”

She backs down, but her chest tightens. “Yes, Master,” she says quickly.

“How many of them are there?”

“All of them. Master Drallig—” Zett chokes on his name. “—he told me to go to the landing pad, to get out and find help.”

“I’ll go with you!”

Ahsoka jumps when the young Kiffar reappears, running up to Zett.

“I’m a good tracker,” she says quickly, “and I know where my Master’s going! We can find her!”

Zett looks to Master Nu at the same time she does, uncertainty in his bright eyes. The old archivist casts her gaze to the end of the hall, where the chaos is starting to get louder. With a deep breath, she kneels before the younglings, a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Do not stop, especially for anyone in clone armour. Don’t trust anyone you don’t recognise and whatever you do, do not return to the Temple until you are given the all-clear, do you understand?” When they both nod, she reaches for their hands and presses them together, letting Zett take the girl’s. Master Nu gives him a firm look. “Hold onto each other. Do not let go. This is not a game.”

“Yes, Master,” they say at the same time, equally shaky.

She stands. “Go.”

The pair run off, Zett tugging the Kiffar girl closer to him as they dash down the hall. Ahsoka watches them go, waiting until they’re around the corner to turn her attention back to Master Nu, who has apparently done the same. Before she can speak, the archivist puts a hand on her shoulder as well.

“Stay with the younglings. Lock the door behind you and defend them with your life,” she instructs.

The girl’s eyes widen. “What? You’re leaving?”

“If the Temple is being attacked, there are things I have to do,” is her grim reply. “No one can get their hands on the archives, Padawan, no one. I’ll come find you when I get the chance.”

If I get the chance. The thought is there, though unspoken.

Steeling herself, Ahsoka swallows roughly but nods. “Yes, Master.”

With a glance over the Padawan’s shoulder, Master Nu lowers her voice. “Above all, make sure they make it out.”

“May the Force be with you,” she says quietly, a hope more than a comfort.

Master Nu smiles, a little sad, a little proud. “It is always with us, Ahsoka. It is always with you. Be brave.”

Her words echo in the young Togruta’s mind even as she departs. When she finally pulls herself together, she rushes into the meditation room, counting heads and closing the door behind her. She enters a code to lock it down completely before turning back to her charges.

“I need you all to listen carefully and do exactly as I say, okay?”

There are scattered nods and ‘yes, Padawan Tano’s, so she gives out instructions.

They build barricades throughout the room, providing cover for themselves. Initiates with lightsabers pair up with those without and the latter group gets a few weapons from Ahsoka. Her clone troopers—the ones killing Jedi—gave her quite a few vibroblades and pocket blasters over the years and she’s kept them all. It’s more than a little useful right now, she thinks as she hands them to the younglings.

“Keep your heads down and trust in the Force,” Ahsoka orders, ducking behind a gathering of meditation chairs and tables with three Initiates. She places a hand on the shoulder of the youngest, a small Mirialan with teary eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

Footsteps thunder from the hallway outside. The younglings fall silent in an instant, poised for battle.

Something catches in Ahsoka’s chest. They’re ready for this. They’re children and terrified but they’re ready for a fight. Is this what her Master used to feel when he looked at her, 14 standard and standing on the front lines? Like something was desperately wrong with this picture?

“The scanners indicate life forms in this room, sir.”

Ahsoka freezes.

It sounds like a clone, though she can't place who. Could Zett have been right? Are the clones—the 501st, of all battalions—turning against them? What in the Force would make them do that? Something here is horribly, horribly wrong.

There's some beeping on the other side of the wall and someone out there must have the codes, because the door starts to slide open.

Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and—

“Master!” she cries, leaping up.

Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation.

“Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?”

In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved.

She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Light washes over her, the stark blue of his lightsaber being lit. She glances down to get a look at where he’s pointing it, what he could possibly be defending her from in a room of younglings. But then pain strikes her abdomen, squeezing her lungs. A choked gasp drags itself from her lips and she finally sees it.

The saber in her chest. Anakin’s saber in her chest.

A youngling screams and blaster fire echoes throughout the room, but Ahsoka can’t see what happens. She can’t even cry out for the Initiates she was meant to protect. All she can do is look back up at him.

His expression is blank, untouched by her apparent agony. He stares down at her with those yellow eyes—

Yellow eyes?

Her mouth falls open a little, her legs wobbling. She loses her balance, falling into him. And he catches her. There isn’t any sort of purpose to the movement, but he catches her.

He has yellow eyes.

Ahsoka thinks of Dooku, of his last moments spent glaring at her and her Master, those burning yellow eyes. She thinks of his red lightsaber fitting perfectly into Anakin’s hand and how nauseous she’d become at the sight.

“Anakin?”

It’s weak, hardly there. She doesn’t even know if he hears it.

And then she’s falling, falling to the floor. He drops her, lets her crumble underneath him, unable to hold herself up.

He walks away.

Breathing raggedly, Ahsoka wants to reach out, wants to grab the bottom of his robe before he can leave her. But her hands won’t cooperate, her entire body screaming at the scorched wound she bears.

The meditation room has fallen silent, leaving the troopers to follow after Anakin. They start to leave, but one notices she’s still breathing, still trying to move.

He lifts his blaster and she finally sees him.

“Rex,” she breathes out.

The jaig eyes on his helmet, carefully painted, give him away instantly. He lifts his pistols and she wants to cry. She doesn’t have the strength for even that. But she doesn’t need any strength to see that his hands are shaking. Ahsoka will never know what’s going on in his head, what’s driving him to lift his blasters in her direction. All she knows is that his hands are shaking.

“It’s okay, Rex,” she says, sounding far from it. “It’s okay.”

He fires.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Reblogs are better than likes and deeply appreciated!

If you tag this as an Ahsoka ship, I will block you so fast.

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silverdecepticon93 · 4 years

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The Evil Twin (Part 1)

So...guess who just saw “Knives Out”? and guess whose obsessed with the Drysdale Twins Au? I also plan on making this a series so if you send me requests, please don’t be offended if I don’t answer them immediately!

You frowned sadly as the movers took the last box from your room, only to hold the stuffed animal bunny you loved oh-so dearly close to your chest as you glared at every other mover who dared to walk in front of you and your window seat. For an eight-year-old, you already had such an icy stare that could even make Hell freeze over, at least, that’s what your father said.

“I don’t wanna move.” You grumbled as your dad walked into the living room, most likely to find you.

Your father, Donato (L/n), looked a little surprised when you spoke up but soon a warm and tender smile spread on his face as he knelt down in front of you.

“I know, Tesoro, I know,” He said somberly as he caressed your round face with his hand, “but we have to think of the good things with this move! When we get to Milan, no more long business trips for me and you won’t have to miss any of your mother’s fashions shows again. Doesn’t that sound grande, Teroso ?”

He lifted you up from under your shoulders before spinning you around the room, your frown now becoming a wide smile as you giggled at his playful behavior. He set you down on the floor, chuckling softly as you dizzily made your way on the ground. However, the room stopped spinning when you heard a car honk and the sound of your mother’s shoes enter the open door of the house.

“Don, you won’t believe who’s here!” Your mother, Serafina (L/n), smiled widely. It was a beautiful smile, one that you proudly inherited as told by many people. Your father returned her smile as he plucked you from the ground and held you in his arms before making his way out the door, “I have a few guesses.”

The three of you started to walk out of the house as two lavish cars pulled up into the gravelly driveway. From one of them, came out a certain Mr. Harlan and from the next came out Richard Drysdale as well as his wife and their two sons.

Hugh and Steve, the Drysdale twins.

You liked Steve, he was nice and kind, you blushed a little as you thought how he reminded you of the princes in fairytales. However, his younger twin, Hugh or Ransom, was not as nice as he was. As a matter of fact, he was incredibly horrid to you and everyone else. So you weren’t exactly happy when your father set you down in front of them.

“Richard, what are you doing here?” Your father chuckled as he went to talk to his friend. The man only laughed in response as he patted your father’s shoulder, “Don’t think you can just leave to Milan without a proper goodbye, Donnie.”

Your mother looked at the tin-foiled Tupperware in Linda’s hands before taking a sniff with a dreamy sigh, “Is that your mother’s famous brownie recipe?”

Linda only brightly smiled, “Of course! I have to other Tupperwares just like this for your trip to Milan.”

Your mother clapped her hands excitedly before bringing in the woman for a hug, “Oh! You’re such a doll, Linda!”

Despite knowing these two for most of your life, you still couldn’t help but feel awkward around them, probably because you never could tell which one was which.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” One greeted brightly, making you smile a little.

“Hi, Steve!” You glowed, turning to face the one on the left.

The other frowned and tugged your (h/c) hair, making you shout in pain and glared at him while holding your stuffed animal tighter to you.

“I’m here too, dummy!” He snarled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hello, Ransom…” You frowned and stepping back from him timidly, a precaution to make sure he didn’t tug your hair again. Steve only sent a dirty look at his twin before looking over to his mother, “Mom! Ransom’s being mean to (Y/n)!” Linda and your mother broke from their conversation before Linda began to glare at her younger son, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale! This is (Y/n)’s last day here, so be nice.” Ransom only rolled his eyes before stuffing his hands in his pockets, “Whatever…”

Linda opened her mouth to say something before your mother intervened quickly, “(Y/n), why don’t you take them to your room? You still have some toys in there.” “Okay!” You beamed before taking Steve’s hand and dragging him into the house.

He stared in disbelief as your hand was intertwined with his, meanwhile, Ransom’s eyes darkened at the sight as he ran to catch up with you two, shouting insults at you and his brother, but he becomes annoyed as you two ignore him.

“They’re so cute.” Your mother beamed. Linda sighed, “Such a shame you’re moving. I’m sure (Y/n) would’ve been a good daughter-in-law…”

“Woah, she’s only eight!” Your father interjects before watching as the trio entered the house, “Although, I’m sure Steve would be a charming son-on-law.”

Harlan only looked at Donato, “But what about Ransom?”

Your father hissed awkwardly before looking out of the corner of his eye, “Forgive me, Harlan, but Hugh is...well-”

“He’s insufferable?” Richard added in a joking tone, making your father chuckle a little. Donato only shook his head dismissively, “No...I just feel that maybe (Y/n) would want someone more...sweet.”

Suddenly, the Italian male began to sniff the air before looking over at Linda.

“Are those your mother’s brownies?” Donato beamed happily, making everyone laugh a little.

With you and the twins, things were awkward and uncomfortable for you. Steve tirelessly invited you to play with him and some of the stray toys you still had out but you would only apologize and politely decline, feeling your face heat up every time he did so. Ransom only stood in the corner of your room, his cold and greyer eyes fixated on you and only you before he spoke up.

“Are you really moving to Milan?” He finally spoke up, making you and his brother lookup. You raised a quizzical eyebrow before speaking up again, “um...yeah?”

“Why?” He frowned. You only repeated what your father had said to you, “So Daddy doesn’t have to do any more long business trips and I don’t have to miss any of Mommy’s fashion shows anymore!”

“Do you want to move?” Steve spoke up, tilting his head curiously, and you noticed that Ransom also did the same thing at the same time. God, sometimes they could be creepy.

You fidgeted with your rabbit and tried not to meet their gazes, “I don’t know.”

“It’s a simple question, stupid!” Ransom hissed and made you flinch a little at how harsh his voice became, “Yes or no?”

“No… not really,” You muttered out before shrugging, “but Dad says it’s for the good of our family. He says I’ll be really happy in Milan and I’ll make a lot of friends an-”

“Who’d want to be friends with you?” Ransom cut you off, saddening you greatly as you hugged the stuffed bunny in your arms tightly.

Steve sent a sharp glare at his brother before crawling over to you and putting a hand on your shoulder, you looked up at him with (e/c) eyes to see him smiling at you.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m your friend.” Steve grinned, making you smile sadly. Ransom scoffed and walked over to the two of you, plopping himself on your other side.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” The darker blond frowned, “I’m her friend too! Right, (Y/n)?” You opened your mouth to answer him, to lie and say ‘yes’, but then you realized something. You’re moving to Milan today, this might be the last time you’ll ever see them for a long time, so you could be as honest as you wanted. A sense of freedom overcame you as you came to this realization.

“Not really, you’re mean to me.” You muttered out, looking him straight in the eye to see how he would react.

Steve smiled proudly at you while Ransom looked at you with wide-eyes, soon his stare became steely and angered before he snatched the stuffed-bunny from your arms and started running. You shouted an annoyed ‘Hey!’ while Steve stood up immediately and chased after him while also demanding him to give back your toy, you quickly followed soon after. When you found them, Ransom was whispering something into Steve’s ear, but when he saw you then Ransom pushed his brother down as he ran out of the backdoor of the house which leads to the surrounding forest.

He stops at the first tree, his arm held back as he was ready to throw the stuffed animal into the forest, the ones you hated going into. Back when you were even younger, Ransom had found a book about all the awful things that happened in the woods from killers to being attacked by giant beasts, and every time he came over he’d force you to listen to them. He looked back at you, a smug smirk on his face as he saw the look of fear in your (e/c) eyes. You only looked at him while silently daring him to do it, the both of you locked into a staring contest of some sort, and deaf to Steve’s impending footsteps.

“Ransom...don’t…” You pleaded, taking one step towards him.

“If you love it so much then you’ll have no problem looking for it,” He sneered as he threw it into the forest and made you scream in anguish.

You didn’t care when Ransom quickly ran away from the scene, nor did you care when Steve stopped him as they argued a little. All you cared was that your precious bunny was now in the forest, along with the killers and monsters from those awful stories that Ransom had forced you to listen to.

“Hey, hey,” Steve comforted as he stood in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders, “Look at me, (Y/n). We’ll find it, okay? I’ll go in there with you.”

You sniffed sadly and rubbed your watery eyes with your arm and looked up at him, “R-really?”

Steve nodded, “Uh-huh! Then we can tell on Ransom and he won’t do it again.”

You knew it was a lie, that Ransom wouldn’t pull a stunt like this again since you knew that it was a never-ending circle. It didn’t matter at the moment, all that mattered was that you would be able to get your bunny back. So you looked from the forest and into Steve’s bright blue eyes before smiling happily before once more intertwining your fingers with his own, the two of you staring brazenly into the forest.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, you gave him a timid smile and stiff nod of your head.

He takes the lead into the forest, you trialed behind him hesitantly while also nervously looking from tree to tree for any signs of monsters or killers or whatever while also trying to find the bright (f/c) fabric within the foliage of the forest.

Time passed by for what you felt like was forever, although, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You spared a few glances at Steve, noticing that him in his collared white dress shirt and neat dress vest along with the afternoon light that peeked through the trees made him look pretty handsome. Not the handsome like your dad or handsome like the princes in the Disney movies you watched, he was handsome...in his own way.

He caught your gaze and sent you a small smile, “What?”

“N-nothing!” You quickly said as you looked away before feeling your face heat-up as you began to scold yourself for being so easily caught, “Did you find anything yet?”

“Nope, what about you?” He asked. You sighed sadly as you swept the forest floor once more, “No…”

Steve didn’t like seeing you upset but he also didn’t like how far you two were from your house nor the setting sun.

“We should head back, our parents might be worried about us,” He finally says, “and it’s getting dark.”

You inspected the area once more before hanging your head sadly, “Yeah...you’re probably right.”

When you two start to make your way back to your house, you really hoped you’d catch a glimpse of your stuffed animal, but soon it was pushed to the back of your mind as you heard the faint sound of sirens. Your eyes widened and you looked at Steve, who looked at you in disbelief which you assumed meant he also heard the wailing sirens as well.

Almost as if you both shared the thought, the two of you take off running into the direction of the sirens before stumbling onto a scene that made your heart drop.

Your once-lovely house, the one you had grown up in, and the one you were gonna move out of was on fire. Actually, a simple word like ‘fire’ couldn’t even begin to describe it, a raging inferno was consuming your home in ruthless red flames before your very eyes.

“Steve!” A voice called out, snapping you out of your trance.

Richard Drysdale is quick to pick up his son and hug him close but then his eyes land on you, his eyes now went wide.

“(Y/n)...” His voice sounded breathless and wispy.

Harlan and Linda show up, Ransom was held in his grandfather’s arms as he stared at you with a foreign look of pity on his face. You stand on your tip-toes to try and look for your parents but then you looked over at the three adults in front of you.

“W-Where’s my mommy and daddy?” You started to sniffle, not sure if you really wanted to know the answer.

The three exchange guilty and knowing looks with one another before Linda kneels down to the ground with glistening eyes that shined even brighter in the flames.

“(Y/n)...come to me.” She said, her voice breaking a little as she held her arms out to you.

You sniffed as tears began to sting the corner of your eyes, then you ran to into her arms and hugged her tightly as you cried into her silk shirt, making her pat your head in sympathy while rubbing circles on your back.

“It’s not your fault,” She whispered, “They should’ve known better than to run back in.”

If she was trying to comfort you, she wasn’t doing a very good job at it. Meanwhile, Ransom tugged on his grandpa’s jacket to take his attention away from the sad scene. Harlan noticed the way that Ransom looked from you to the ground, a silent way of saying he wanted to be put down, so that’s exactly what Harlan did. Steve also gave his father a silent sign to be set down and followed his brother over to you.

“(Y/n)...” Ransom trailed off, making you look at him slowly.

His hands were behind his back but he then slowly took one away, only to reveal the stuffed bunny you thought he had thrown into the woods.

“I’m sorry…” He frowned, making you gasp softly and look at him with disbelieving eyes.

Steve then wrapped his arms around you and looked at the burning house, as well as you and Ransom. While you began to breakdown and cry, the two twins looked at each other grimly. If only you had seen the way the light of the flames illuminated their faces, then they stiffly nodded to each other before Steve held you tighter in his embrace while Ransom hugged you from your other side.

Your bunny’s button eyes stared lifelessly into the flames, it’s stitched smile keeping it from revealing a big secret, well that and it wasn’t alive. It couldn’t tell you anything but only if it could, if only it could’ve told you that the two boys holding you weren’t holding you to protect you…

They were holding you to keep you from getting away.

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

Text

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 8)

Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

AO3 Link

Hi!! I honestly didn’t expected to update today, but here we are:’) I hope you enjoy this chapter!! If someone wants to be added or remove from the tag list, tell me haha.

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @dawniebb @healing-winston-pratt @cerenoya @ marissagustrerbenson

Getting cold hands?

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

and how you suffered for your sanity,

and how you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they did not know how;

perhaps they'll listen now.

Simon

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Hugh put his hand over his mouth to shut him up and Simon felt his cheeks turn red when he realized a couple of older boys had turned to see why the hell he was yelling. Their faces contorted in disgust and continued with their chat.

Because prodigies were disgusting.

He immediately regretted his decision to come back to school.

Hugh removed his hand from his mouth. “Don't be mad at me,” he whispered.

“I'm not mad at you,” he replied in a lower voice, “it's just that I'm surprised you did something so impulsive and so, so… so stupid.”

Hugh bit his lip but couldn't hide his laugh. “Wow, Simon, watch your language.”

He kicked him to silence him. “I am serious,” he replied. “You gave my address to a complete stranger—"

“Georgia.”

“—To make a plan for which we have no ideas—"

“I do have many ideas.”

“—and who will bring a friend we don't know.”

Simon went silent, waiting for Hugh to answer with the friend's name. But he did not.

That only further proved his point. “From the beginning, your plan was very wrong.”

And I should have been there to warn you.

“No, my plan was golden from the beginning,” Hugh argued, “because Georgia is not a stranger. I met her at Joe’s Basket and she turned out to be a really nice girl. She likes mystery novels, wears white pajamas to sleep, and can fly. I consider that a very specific profile.”

“I consider her a stranger. You don’t even know her last name.”

“Rawles.”

“Does she has a middle name?”

Hugh ignored him completely. “If you just had heard her speak, Simon. She was absolutely right about everything,” he continued. “Georgia is a good person. She returned my notebook even though she didn't have to. And look what she did.”

Discreetly, he took a sheet of paper out of his back pocket. It was the drawing he had been working on a couple of days ago. Propaganda. “She repaired my drawing with washi-tape. It’s… kind of pretty, isn’t it?”

It was the most adorable washi-tape Simon had ever seen. “Too girly,” he growled.

“Girly? The— the washi-tape?”

“Yes,” Simon answered. “It’s too girly. I don’t like it.”

“Oh, no, I don’t like it either,” Hugh answered. “I just thought the contrast was… funny.”

Simon said nothing more. Hugh put the drawing back before anyone else saw it. “Look, that’s what would make us a great team. We all have different strengths. And also… she’s a girl. An older girl. And she likes Wonder Man.”

Simon decided to draw the line there. To hell with her pretty washi-tape. “Why does it matter she’s an older girl who likes Wonder Man? I like Wonder Man too.”

Hugh adjusted his glasses, confused. “But… you don’t like it,” he reminded him. “You say Wonder Man is an idiot.”

I do say that.

“What I mean is,” he said evasively, “like ... I mean, what does strengths does she has? Because being a girl is not one of them.”

“Her vision,” she replied. “She has a way of seeing things that are surely different from ours. Not just because she's a girl, but also because I bet she has experienced the world in a way we haven't and has more experience with certain things that could help us. How many times have we talked to someone who isn’t part of the school?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “We don't talk to anyone at school,” he muttered.

They hate us. They really hate us.

Or do they fear us?

Is there a difference?

“Well, when have we talked to someone... other than the two of us? Or your dad, or your sister—” and he smiled playfully “—or my aunt.”

He immediately realized he was trying to make him laugh. But at that point in the conversation, Simon was fed up with the entire female gender and he wasn’t even willing to smile at him.

Hugh hugged himself. For some reason, he was not wearing a jacket that day... “Where’s your jacket?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I gave it to Georgia,” he replied. “The one she had didn't protect her from the cold.”

Then Simon remembered that they were arguing and that Hugh was an idiot who gave his address to strangers and did not deserve his compassion. “Well, it's her fault. Why does she wear a jacket that looks cools but doesn't protect you from the cold?”

“Maybe she’s… passionate about fashion?” he said, half-joking.

Simon didn't find it funny. “Maybe she puts fashion above basic needs.”

Hugh realized that it was useless to keep trying to make him laugh. He put his hands in his pants pockets. “Simon…” He glanced at him. “You... that someone you mentioned last time—“

“What’s with that someone?” he asked sharply.

“That someone still wants me to believe in him, right?”

At that moment, Simon realized that throughout the entire conversation, he had had his arms crossed as if he were throwing a tantrum.

Stars. How childish Simon looked. And how worried Hugh looked.

The last thing he wanted to do was worry him.

Simon wasn't even quite sure why he was reacting like that. Like, of course, he had been annoyed that Hugh had made a move without first consulting him, especially one involving his home.

However, it didn't take long for him to realize that that other emotion he felt, in addition to the obvious annoyance, was fear. Fear that he was going to leave him for that new friend he had made. Which he knew didn't make sense because Hugh wasn't the one who abandoned others.

That one was Simon. Simon had abandoned him the other day.

Simon was the bad person here.

He leaned against the wall. “Yes...” he acknowledged. “That someone still needs you to believe in him.”

Because that someone needs you maybe a little too much.

Hugh seemed suddenly calmer. “Good,” he sighed. “I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“Simon, stop.”

But he couldn't. “Sorry.”

Hugh just laughed and leaned against the wall too. “Well, you know, since we're on the apology thing… I'm sorry I didn't consult you before giving the address to someone who is a stranger. For you,” he added quickly. Simon kicked him. I told you that she is a stranger. “It's just that… I got excited. I have never met someone like Georgia.”

Simon nodded and felt a lump in his throat. He knew what Hugh was talking about.

He had never met someone who believed in themselves because the only person Hugh hung out with was Simon, and Simon…

Simon didn't believe in anything. Not even himself.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” he asked in a small voice.

“She promised me he would be there,” he replied. “And I had to promise her that I would be there too. Simon… can you promise me that too?”

Simon scoffed. “You will be at my house.”

“You know what I mean—“ he tapped his hand with two fingers. “Can you promise me you'll be there?” he repeated.

Simon ignored the feelings that light touch gave him.

He had always been good at ignoring.

So he nodded.

The bell rang and the few students in the courtyard began to enter. Hugh chattered his teeth and hugged himself again.

“You are cold, right?” Simon asked him.

Simon didn't want to go to class yet. He wished he could stay out a while longer. Simon loved cold days because he could put on a lot of layers of clothing and people saw less of him.

But the truth was that he didn't want to go to class yet because he wanted to stay talking with his friend a bit longer.

Even if he made him angry.

“I’m freezing,” he answered. “Look, feel my hands.”

He put a hand on his cheek. Simon could feel his face turning all red again.

Ignore it, ignore it.

“Yes. They’re cold,” he answered.

“Told you. Cold can’t kill me, but is surely a pain in the ass.”

Simon gave him a lopsided smile, trying not to look like he was doing his best not to imagine… that.

Don’t think about his ass.

In a desperate attempt to distract his mind, he searched his pockets for the gloves his father told him last night to wear when leaving the house. He stood up and handed them to Hugh. “Put them on. I don't like wearing gloves anyway.”

They headed for the school entrance while Hugh struggled to put them on. They were a little too small for him, but if he didn't move his hands a lot they would surely cover them well. “Thank you,” he mumbled with a smile.

Simon shrugged. It was the least he could do.

The rest of the day, he was the one whose hands were freezing because his school had no heating since always. Yet the thought that Hugh was wearing them and that his hands were warm made him better able to ignore the cold.

That and the fact his cheeks were still red.

I'm not abandoning you again, Hugh.

I’d rather be dead.

Georgia

When she arrived, she did not make her classic introduction. She didn't say "Honey, I'm home!" nor did she hold Molly in her arms and ask her how school went. She only greeted Tamaya, gave her the bag with the few provisions that she could offer her, and dropped onto her mattress.

It was more comfortable than one would expect to. She didn't understand why Tamaya said it was uncomfortable.

Tamaya didn't seem to notice that change. And if she did, she said nothing. Georgia would dare to say that she was just as quiet as her.

She lay down beside Georgia. They were shoulder to shoulder, staring at the old roof of the abandoned store. Tamaya fiddled with her broken locket.

“Who goes first?” Georgia asked leaning on her shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Who tells her problem first,” she clarified.

“Oh.” Tamaya dropped her locket. “You. You go first.”

Georgia wanted to refuse. She knew that if she started talking, there would probably be no one able to stop her. And it was already difficult to get Tamaya to open up…

But she had to tell someone. She couldn't hold that secret inside her for another second.

She turned to see her. “I met someone.”

Tamaya did the same. “Someone?”

“A boy.”

“A boy,” she repeated. Sharply.

“Not like that,” she clarified quickly. “He's a literal boy. So yeah. It would be kinda gross, to be honest.”

Tamaya relaxed her expression. Only a little. “What did he do to you?” she asked.

“Stars, Tamaya,” Georgia laughed. “He did nothing to me. But he gave me this.”

She reached into the pocket of her jeans. Georgia hated wearing jeans because her legs were too wide and she could never find jeans that actually fit her. However, that day all her skirts were too dirty to wear. And she also had to keep that paper in a safe place.

They both straightened up as Georgia unfolded the paper with her fingers.

It's made of glass, Georgia. Like your hopes. Like the future of the world.

Be very careful.

She opened it without breaking it and passed it to Tamaya.

To a very confused Tamaya.

It's made of glass, Tam. Please don't break it.

“Is this his address?” she asked, confused.

“No, it's his friend's address.”

Tamaya crumpled the piece of paper rolling her eyes. “What the hell do you want to tell me, Georgia?”

“Be careful!” she screeched, snatching it away.

She put it on her leg and began to try to flatten it with all the strength of her hand. Luckily she had rescued it in time...

It’s made of glass! It’s made of glass!

Tamaya hid between her wings. Immediately, Georgia could recognize what he was trying to tell her by that.

She was afraid. Altered. She didn't like being yelled at.

And Georgia knew it. “Sorry...” she mumbled.

Tamaya nodded.

Why did she have to be so loud?

“Tamaya... who are you?” she asked.

Tamaya rolled her eyes. “I think you just answered your own question,” she mumbled, annoyed.

“No, I mean ... what are we?” she asked. “Look where we are—” she pointed around her “—look where we ended up.”

“I don't know if it's time for you to make me feel bad about where I live.”

“No! It's not that, Tamaya, it's just that…”

And she stopped.

“Is it just what?”

The same question was in her head.

What's your excuse now, Georgia?

She fought the urge to cry that suddenly washed over her. “It's just that I haven't stopped wondering if we've been on the right side of history,” she replied, standing up. “And it's something that I hadn't really asked myself until yesterday, you know? Until they gave me this address.”

Tamaya's shoulders hunched more. She was still hidden behind its wings.

Jeez, Georgia, can't you lower your voice a bit?

Georgia knelt beside her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. She did not reject her or bite her. Good. “Tamaya, what are we?” she insisted. “Are we women?”

“Well... yes,” she replied with a frown. “Or at least you are.”

“No, Tamaya, I am not a woman. I'm a girl,” Georgia said. “I am a girl who continues to live in the fantasy world that she designed to survive all the trauma she went through. It doesn't matter I have grown physically, on the inside… on the inside all I have done is hide my head between my books and my dolls and your friendship, because I am too much of a coward to do anything for the outside world.”

She covered her mouth with her hands as she turned her back to her. Don't cry, don't you dare cry.

Georgia did not cry.

Tamaya stood up. “Are you... are you okay?”

“Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “All good. You? Are you okay? Do you forgive me for yelling at you?”

She did not reply. For a second, Georgia thought she was going to hug her. How childish of her to think that. Tamaya never hugged people. She didn't know how to do it.

So Georgia hugged herself.

She always hugged herself. There was no one left to do it.

“I still do not understand—”

“These kids—” she showed her the slip of paper “—these kids are not cowards. And they are children. How are they braver than us? What has happened in their lives that have made them so brave?”

Tamaya pushed her fist away from her face. Georgia had accidentally put the paper on her to just below his nose.

She looked into Tamaya's eyes and realized that many things had happened to her in her life that had made her brave. Because yes, Tamaya was brave for the sole fact of her existence.

Tamaya was born with wings, which although Georgia found them wonderful, for her they were the constant reminder of everything that was “wrong” with her. Her parents despised her, she lived locked in a cage, like...

Like a bird.

But Tamaya was not a bird. Or a monster, as she called herself. She was none of those things. She was a woman.

And a brave one. Georgia wished she could see herself the way she saw her.

No, there was nothing wrong with Tamaya. Who was wrong was the rest of the world.

And that world was so different from the one Georgia had created when she was little. One that writhed in pain and hurt whoever dared to help it. Georgia was so scared of pain.

But she was more afraid of continuing being the coward in the story.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

Last night, intoxicated by the smell of vanilla and the taste of freedom, it had seemed easy. As if giving the notebook back to a child was going to make the difference the world needed at that moment.

However, as the effects of adrenaline left her body and Hugh began to speak more and more, she realized that things were more complicated than she had initially imagined. That a simple act of kindness was not going to take away the suffering from the world in which she lived. She wished it did though. I want to help you, but I'm not sure how.

Was she going to have to take the pain for the world?

Coward. Coward. Coward.

She turned to see her friend again. “Tamaya, I want to stop being a girl,” she whispered, taking her by the shoulders. “I want to stop being a coward that hides in her own imaginary world.”

Tamaya grabbed her wrists. “And what do you want to be then?”

“I want to be a woman,” she replied. “One that goes out into the real world and does something to save it.”

She nodded. Georgia decided to venture out to ask her a new question. “What do you want to be, Tamaya?”

Tamaya held on tighter to her.

Although she wasn't hurting her Georgia wondered if she was holding her tighter so she wouldn't hurt herself. “I just know I want to stop being a monster, Georgia.”

Georgia wrapped her in a hug. Tamaya reciprocated by surrounding her with her wings.

Yes. This is better than a hug.

Then a putrid smell suddenly hit her. She discreetly sniffed Tamaya's body. It wasn't her.

Good. She wasn't quite sure where she could have found a soap that could remove that.

"What’s that smell?" she asked.

There was a foam plate right behind her friend. Georgia broke away from the hug and took the foam plate in her hands. She opened it, and the retching she felt was enough to make her realize that it had been a horrible decision.

The smell was of rotten fried rice. “Tamaya!” she screamed “Why do you have this here? It's disgusting.”

Tamaya came up behind her and closed the foam plate. The scent lingered in her nostrils still, but Tamaya seemed unaffected. “It is my reminder.”

She sounded so distant, so empty...

Had she sounded like that?

She put the foam plate at the other end of the room quickly. When she returned, Tamaya was sitting on the mattress, hugging her legs. Georgia took Molly and held her out. Tamaya took her doll and put it on her lap.

Georgia sat next to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tamaya shook her head. She undid one of Molly's braids and started doing it again. “Give me ideas.”

“Ideas for what?”

“Ideas for what I could be. I don't know anything else.”

Georgia undid Molly's other braid. “How about... being a superhero?”

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #simon westwood #hugh everhart #georgia rawles #tamaya rae #OG renegades #rise of the renegades #ao3 #fic #i promise they all are going to meet up soon:(#i just need to organize a couple of things #thanks for being patience u.u

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jeminy3 · 5 years

Text

Hughes/Hawkeye Swap/Apprentice Hughes AU Outline

notes and general outline for my ideas for a FMA AU that swaps Riza and Hughes' roles in the story. includes lesbian Riza and self-indulgent Roy/Hughes shipping, but you can imagine it's platonic if you want.

Original Art Post Here

Read on AO3 Here

Read on Google Docs Here

AU in which Hughes and Hawkeye switch roles. Hughes is Roy's First Lieutenant and bodyguard with the secrets of Flame Alchemy tattooed on his back, Riza is Roy's best friend and informant within Central's investigation team.

- Berthold Hawkeye refuses to teach Riza Alchemy, being old-fashioned and wishing to protect his daughter from that lifestyle. Instead he opens up an apprenticeship to any teen boys willing to learn. He receives one in the form of a young Roy Mustang.

But things become complicated when a 2nd boy by the name of Maes Hughes also arrives to accept the apprenticeship. Neither him or Roy want to back down, so Berthold wearily agrees to teach them both on the condition that only one of them will receive advanced studies if they earn his trust and approval. Roy and Maes agree.

What follows is 2-3 years of Roy and Maes competing as rival apprentices as they live with the Hawkeyes in their estate, slowly growing from bitter rivals to close friends (with tenuous romantic/sexual feelings for each other later on).

Roy is petty and competitive, eager to prove himself against Maes as the better Alchemist and earn his Master's respect, hopefully enough to learn the secrets of his infamous Flame Alchemy research. Maes only wished to learn basic Alchemy at first, but he's driven to try harder as he butts heads with Roy, taking great pleasure in knocking the ambitious boy down a few pegs and seeing him frustrated.

Meanwhile, a young Riza watches them from afar, then eventually befriends the two, admitting from her observations of them that they actually seem to like each other's company. Roy and Maes vehemently disagree with this, too proud to admit otherwise.

This becomes obvious as the adolescents' sexuality comes into bloom (Roy and Riza being gay, and Maes being bisexual), with Riza being the first one who becomes comfortable in who she is and what she likes, and keeps trying to encourage the boys do the same. But their pride and stubbornness keeps getting in the way of admitting their attraction to each other.

+ Eventually a harrowing event or two brings them closer, like the Academy OVA

Things change as Roy's ambition shifts, and he shows interest in joining the military and helping his country with its constant wars. Riza shares similar interests, but this draws Berthold's ire. He pushes them away in favor of Maes, who he deems his most trustworthy apprentice now.

Maes shares similar sentiments with his friends, but he's better about hiding them from his Master. After hearing about Berthold's Flame Alchemy from Roy and Riza, his inquisitive nature made him curious to learn the secrets, so he's been staying on Berthold's good side to earn his trust. He aims to share the secrets with his friends once he gets them.

Once Berthold makes it clear he favors Maes, Roy makes clear his desire to join the Academy and parts ways with his Master. He begrudgingly bids farewell to his friends before he leaves. (He's almost 18, several months older than Maes, and nearly 4 years older than Riza.)

Roy promises to see Riza on the battlefield and fight with her someday. His parting with Maes is more tense, as they've finally settled their differences and become friends, but still haven't resolved their deeper feelings for each other. Maes isn't clear on whether or not he will join Roy at the Academy, despite showing interest earlier. Instead, Roy hesitantly promises to see him again, and Maes promises likewise.

Roy spends several months adjusting to Academy life, then is surprised when the next batch of students has Maes among them. He joined after all, saying he stopped his studies with Master Hawkeye because he no longer wants to become an Alchemist, and has signed up as an average soldier, like Roy. He doesn't go into detail about his decision, but Roy assumes it's because Maes finally stood up for himself and what he really believes in, rebelling against Master Hawkeye.

No longer rivals, and being more mature, Roy and Maes revive their friendship and finally come to terms with their feelings for each other. Maes admits to grappling with heartbreak after Roy left, making him finally realize the true nature of his feelings. Roy admits to missing Maes in a similar way since coming here. Eventually, they confess their love for each other and become an item.

But Roy notices Maes having a strange paranoia over his body that wasn't there before, never undressing in front of anyone and being more private in his bathing rituals. Sleeping together is also off-limits. Roy wonders about this but respects Maes' preferences, trying to be a good boyfriend.

They survive the rest of their Academy training and graduate with flying colors, all the while enjoying an overall happy relationship together. Roy is a strong soldier and natural leader, and Hughes proves to be an accomplished marksman and sniper.

Roy and Maes return to the Hawkeye Estate to visit Riza, like they promised her. She's happy to see them, and even more happy that they finally hooked up. But things are tense under the surface, and Riza admits that her father is on his deathbed. Roy agrees to see him, but Maes suddenly becomes quiet and distant, and refuses to see him. Riza seems to understand, and takes him aside while Roy meets with Berthold.

The dying Berthold gives his parting words to Roy, admitting he would have favored Roy with his secrets had he not agreed to join the military, and it seems he made a mistake in trusting Maes after all, since he followed the same path. But what's done is done. Roy asks about happened to the secrets of his research. Berthold forces a chuckle, remarking that Roy should know about this already.

Roy asks what he means by this. Berthold admits that he gave the secrets to Maes not long before he left for the Academy. But apparently, Maes never told him this.

Regardless, Berthold makes Roy promise to watch over his daughter and keep Maes' secrets safe, only using Flame Alchemy for a good cause. Roy is confused, but agrees to this. He comforts Berthold as he takes his dying breaths.

Afterward, Roy finds Riza and Maes comforting each other in Riza's bedroom, and confronts them over what he's been told. He demands to know what Maes has been hiding from him, feeling hurt. Maes gets upset, and Riza calms them both, telling Roy that it isn't personal, it's been very hard for Maes and she only found out about it after he left for the Academy.

Roy wants to know what "it" is - so, Riza gently encourages Maes to take off his shirt. Hesitantly, with great pains, Maes does this - revealing a series of Alchemy tattoos covering most of his back, containing the secrets to Flame Alchemy.

+ Alternative: Roy walks into the room just as Maes is showing his back to Riza, causing even more shock and confusion.

Roy is shocked and horrified. Maes forces a calm, nonchalant tone as he relays how he earned Berthold's trust, but only enough to earn his secrets in a way he could never actually use them. Instead he was coerced into being their keeper, sedated and operated on by a tattoo artist Berthold hired. The operation and grueling recovery was a terrible, violating experience, and has ruined Maes' passion for Alchemy entirely, to the point that he hates and avoids it now. As soon as he was able, he quietly slipped away from the Hawkeye Estate, returned home, then left to join Roy at the Academy to become a soldier. He finally breaks down as he apologizes profusely to Roy for never telling him about this, even when they became an item.

The two embrace, with Roy understanding of Maes now and saying he should apologize for getting mad and assuming the worst. He promises to be better to Maes, as long as he doesn't hide things from him anymore. He loves him, and if they're going to survive together, they need to be honest and trusting with each other. Maes tearfully agrees. Riza comforts them both.

Afterwards, Roy uses his soldier's pay to arrange a proper burial for Berthold, and the three mourn at his grave. Roy relays his dreams to help his country from the bottom up, even if he's just a disposable soldier. Maes agrees with him and promises to stay by his side, and offers to give Roy the secrets on his back so he can revive his dream of becoming a State Alchemist. Roy accepts this, especially coming from his boyfriend. Riza is warmed by all this, and promises to support them as well, once she's able to. Roy leaves a business card with her so she can look for him after she graduates from the Academy.

Roy and Maes return to Roy's new apartment in Central, moving in together and working to decode the tattoo. Once they do, Roy develops his method of Flame Alchemy, inventing the ignition gloves. He trains until he feels ready, then applies for his State License, impressing the Fuhrer and others with his flames. He earns the title of The Flame Alchemist. Maes supports him from the sidelines as best he can, still very nervous around Alchemy, especially this kind.

Then, Roy is deployed to Ishval, with Maes following soon afterward. They're separated for a time, but eventually meet again in a tearful reunion. Roy has become a murderer, and their idealistic dreams have shattered.

Eventually they also reunite with Riza, who has become an unofficial squad Captain. She's graduated early, showing a penchant for investigation, strategy, and knife-throwing. The three friends take comfort in each other in this terrible time.

On a good note, Riza reveals she has a girlfriend in Central named Gracia, and she plans to marry her once they go back home. Roy and Maes are happy for her - but also a bit sad, since their careers prevent them from doing the same due to fraternization laws.

Once it's over, Roy changes his dream to ascending the ranks and becoming the next Fuhrer, protecting everyone beneath him with his newfound leadership responsibilities. Maes and Riza pledge to support him to the bitter end.

Before going back home, Maes approaches Roy privately, and asks him to burn his tattoo. He feels equally responsible for the lives Roy's taken with his flames, and has decided the secrets need to be destroyed to prevent the possibility of another Flame Alchemist being created. He has discussed this with Riza beforehand, who agreed. Roy refuses to hurt Maes at first, but after some begging and arguing, he finally relents.

After Ishval, Roy is promoted to Lt. Colonel and transferred to East HQ under General Grumman, Riza's grandfather whom she pulls strings with. Maes is promoted to 2nd Lieutenant and assigned as Roy's personal aide and bodyguard, trusting no one else with the role. Maes will protect his back like Roy did for his, and put a bullet in it if he strays from his path toward Fuhrer. Riza is transferred to Central to join their investigations department, working on the inside to supply Roy with information.

Over the years, Riza marries Gracia, and Roy and Maes attend their wedding as her best men. Months later, a sperm donor is used to help Gracia become pregnant, and they welcome the arrival of their daughter, Elicia.

The rest is mostly the same as canon besides the reversed roles, and Roy and Maes have a somewhat-secret relationship that they struggle to keep balanced and healthy between their professional lives, power imbalances, and promises to each other.

+ Possible: Riza's fast enough to narrowly avoid dying at the hands of Envy, but she does have to go into hiding and/or ends up in a coma. If comatose, she only revives after The Promised Day - the Nationwide Transmutation Circle takes her soul out of her body and Hohenheim's counter-circle returns it, causing a sort of hard-reset on her consciousness and returning her to the waking world. After recovering, she is happily reunited with her friends and family (but is probably worse for wear, due to the bullet wound and whatever resulting injuries or nerve damage it caused).

#hyuroi #rizagracia #hughes/hawkeye swap #hughes/hawkeye swap au #hyuroyai #jeminy writes

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milfgritty · 5 years

Text

i’ll be good pt. five | j. hughes & t. zegras

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ word count: 1.8k

having a crush on one person was confusing enough. now throw in one of their teammates and you weren’t sure where that left you anymore.

⇢ posted: 04.26.19 . | . masterlist prev. | next.

Even days later, you couldn’t get what you overheard in the basement out of your head.

‘…even though you knew I liked her.’

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. After you fled the room, you retreated to the bathroom to dry off. The embarrassment was mortifying, even though you knew it was just an accident on Jack’s part. It didn’t take you long at all to pat yourself down and you ended up going back to the basement when you heard the arguing. Their voices were so loud that you heard them from your perch at the top of the stairs. Your curiosity was piqued and you couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

You came to regret your decision very quickly.

Finding out Jack apparently liked you was just insane. All that time you spent pining over him, drowning in the knowledge that he didn’t feel the same way only to discover that he did.

But the timing. God, the timing.

You were with Trevor now. And you were happy with him. He showered you in affection, made you feel wanted and cared about. You were falling hard for him, but you couldn’t deny that you still had feelings for Jack. They weren’t as strong as they were before. Moving on from Jack had been so much easier having Trevor wooing you at every turn.

Except now you didn’t know what to do.

Your gut was telling you to stay with Trevor. He was safe, you knew the two of you worked. But that part of you that liked Jack for so long was telling you that this was your chance. He liked you, still likes you.

Tossing and turning that night, sleep eluded you.

You avoided both of them as much possible for a few days, your mind still reeling. You couldn’t face Trevor knowing what your subconscious was battling with. That was what ultimately brought you to your decision.

Jack had his chance, so many of them. And yet, he never took them. You couldn’t blame him, but still. Trevor was the one that went for it, asked you out and made you laugh and kissed you like he wouldn’t get another opportunity to. He was the one that took your breath away, talked to you for hours on the phone when you couldn’t fall asleep. Texted you in the morning to tell you good morning, stared at you with that little smile playing on the edge of his lips when he thought you weren’t looking.

In the end, that’s what it came down to. The what if’s with Jack that you had longed for were just that, what if’s. Trevor was real, he was there. And you couldn’t leave that, him.

Finally getting everything figured out, you settled back into your old routine. Went back to treating Jack like just another friend, the only difference being that you admittedly avoided being alone with him for long. It was just being cautious, you told yourself. Jack followed your lead, staying his distance.

It was odd, in a way. Spending time with Jack when you weren’t crushing hopelessly on him or trying to hide your relationship—just being friends—was nice.

And so, it wasn’t especially weird when Jack texted you asking what you were doing one afternoon.

Spotting your phone flashing, you shoved away your textbooks. Debating what to tell him, you sent off a reply a minute later.

‘just going to study for this test tomorrow.’ You sent it before typing out another text. ‘don’t get the material much lol I was gonna call trev to see if he could help’

‘isn’t he practicing today?’ Jack responded.

Pulling your brows together in a frown, you checked through your texts with Trevor and almost swore when you saw that Jack was right.

‘ugh,’ you typed, ‘can’t believe I forgot about that’

And you really couldn’t. Honestly, you were kinda banking on Trevor helping you study. He was weirdly good with the formulas you were covering in class right now. You, on the other hand? Definitely needed help.

Sitting back in your chair, you watched the chat bubbles pop up to signal Jack was typing. They disappeared and reappeared a few times before you finally got his text.

‘I could help you study if you want?’

Sucking your lip in between your teeth, you thought about it. On one hand, you would probably flunk the test if you didn’t get someone’s help. On the other hand, were you really comfortable with spending a few hours alone with Jack cooped up in your room?

Coming to the decision that you would be able to handle it, you sent him a message making sure he actually knew the material before agreeing.

Anxiety crept over you while you waited for him to come over. It was difficult to shake them off and by the time Jack arrived, you were nearly buzzing with pent up nerves.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, opening your front door to let him in.

He flashed you his teeth in return, his book bag swung over his one shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.” You brushed past him to lead the way up to your room, making sure to leave your door open.

He took a hesitant seat on your bed while you pulled your chair over. You waited patiently for him to get his books out, your pen tapping on the pages of the textbook opened on your lap.

“So, where do you want to start?” he asked once he got everything sorted. Coughing a bit to clear your throat, you shifted to pull one leg under you.

Explaining to him where you kept getting confused, the two of you dove headfirst into studying. It didn’t take long for you to realize that he was actually a really good teacher. His voice, always mellow and soothing—patient no matter how many times you messed up—walked you through your mistakes, breaking everything down for you to understand.

Over time, your positions had changed. Somewhere along the way, you had abandoned your chair to plop down onto the bed. You didn’t even how close you were to each other, practically leaning on each other to see the other’s work, until Jack suggested a break. Nearly three hours had passed and you were now to the point where you were capable of working through the problems on your own.

Cheeks darkening at your close proximity, you stretched away to grab your water bottle. “You’re doing a lot better,” Jack told you, lifting his head from where he was checking your work again.

The praise brought a proud grin to your face. “Really?” you questioned, unable to believe the progress you had made.

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips at how you were almost glowing. “Seriously, I’m really proud of you,” he said, sincerity reflecting in his eyes. Your heart warmed and you had to look away, taking a sip of water.

“Please,” you scoffed quietly, twiddling with your pen, “it’s not like I would’ve been able to do it without you.”

Jack shook his head, nudging you lightly. “Trust me, you didn’t need me. You would’ve been able to get this on with a little more time. I just sped up the process.”

Rolling your eyes, you pinned him with a stare, “You’re a great teacher, Jack. You deserve most of the credit.” Your words were paired with a small grin.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, biting his lip to hide his smile. Laughing, you drew your legs up and leaned back on one arm to face him more directly.

“Aww,” you cooed, “Is the great Jack Hughes blushing?” You teased, holding back a chuckle. He grabbed one of your pillows from behind him and chucked it at you. A shriek left you as it crashed into your hastily thrown up hands, bouncing off of them onto the floor.

Laughter filling the room, you threw your pen at him in retaliation. It flew past his head, much harder than you had planned. His arms came up to protect his face. Jack dodged it, his eyes going wide in alarm.

The sight had you falling back onto your bed, clutching your sides. Eyes screwed shut, you nearly squealed when you felt Jack drag you closer to you. Manic laughter and screams left you when you felt his fingers dig into your sides, your body squirming away.

“Stop, stop!” you pleaded, gasping for breath.

Jack snickered, continuing his attack. “What’s the magic word?” he asked, smile lighting up his face.

“Please! Jack, oh my god. Please, I yield!”

Your yelled words managed to do the trick. His fingers retreating, he remained hovering over you on his knees. Panting for breath between barely present giggles, you opened your eyes.

Your gazes met, tired but gleeful expressions on your faces. The room was quiet except for your labored breathing. You nearly missed it when Jack’s eyes darted down to your mouth, the lazy grin still plastered on it.

And just like that, the mood shifted into something much less light.

Swallowing roughly, you stopped breathing when Jack began leaning down. Seconds ticked by, time reaching a snail’s pace as Jack moved slowly. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what compelled you. It was like you couldn’t move, only able to wait for him to come closer, closer until he was right there. Hovering above your lips, his hair falling down onto your face as he moved in—

A crash echoed through your house, Jack jerking back at lightning speed.

You heard your mom’s muffled ‘oops’ yelled somewhere downstairs. Greedily gulping down breaths of air, you tried to calm your racing heart. You hurriedly moved to sit up and get off the bed, wandering over to your desk.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn—”

“You should go,” you whispered, cutting Jack off. You were horrified, clutching your arms close to your body.

Jack stood up, eyes pleading, “Y/N, please. You have to know that I didn’t mean—”

“Jack,” your voice came out strangled. Tears had already started flooding your eyes and you found it hard to breathe. “Please, just go.”

He nodded, defeated. He gathered his things swiftly, mumbling one last apology as he left your room with a devastated expression lining his face. He shut the door behind him. You heard his voice drift up from downstairs followed by your mom’s before the front door closed too.

The thud caused a traitorous tear to slip out. It dripped down, down, and then others were following in its path. You gasped in sharp breaths, drifting back over to your bed and dropping onto the edge. You hunched over, attempting to keep your crying silent as you grasped helplessly at your midsection.

Oh god—

What was wrong with you?

198 notes · View notes

transboygenius · 5 years

Text

SE4SON: Chapter 10

Deep in the vicinity of space, in a planet far beyond astronomical reach, there dwells a man. A man who possesses the super strength of 10 Stomp Grompers, a sir that can leap higher than the average Boarbaw, a guy that is truly ultra in every way. The habitation in which he lives in is being undertaken by the wretched vilenesses that feed off of the planet's resources and tranquility. The only way to take back home is to fight for it! With these powers and highly advanced weaponry he is blessed with, he soars to still greater heights as he conquers the forces of evil, and protecting the helpless in need! No job is too tough to make our hero quit! He brings the chills, the spills, and the thrills! He is...

"...the one and only, and nobody else could never, Ultra-Lord! Da, da da da da, daaaa da, da da da-" "Sheen, what are you doin'?" "Oh, just reciting the narration to the Ultralord season 1 opening intro, Libster! I just couldn't help but get excited looking at that atmosphere out there. Doesn't it just pull you in?" "Yeah. Now that you've mentioned it, I guess it is kinda pretty. But we're not here to admire the galaxy, we're here for-" "It reminds me of the time I traveled to and landed on the planet Zeenu. I made a lot of friends there, and with a talking monkey too. Did I mentioned the citizens there also worshiped me?" "You never even traveled to a planet named Zeenu. Don't you remember? You hopped aboard on that rocket Jimmy tried to keep you out of, failed to pilot it, crashed landed, then fell into a coma for three months. Besides, the day you become royal advisor is the day dinosaurs are revived from extinction." "Huh. It seemed so real, though. Well, that explains it! I would never think about leaving you for some blue skinned gladiator girl who knows how to yodel better than anyone else I know! (Well... That depends...)"

Judy, Sheen, and Libby were cruising through outer space in an old worn out McSpanky's restaurant, courtesy to the three alien brothers; Zix, Travoltron, and Tee. Sheen brought his Ultralord mask for the occasion, and some of his figurines so that he could educate his new lizardy friends on the franchise. Libby immediately notified the concept to Mrs. Neutron after it hit her at The Ramen Bowl. Since none of them have any experience piloting Jimmy's rocket, Libby had Sheen contact his good ol' buddy, Tee. Hugh would've joined them, but Judy gave him a job, on Earth, planting those Missing posters all over Retroville. Carl refused to accompany them since he was busy with another magic show. Although, when he turned down their offer, he sounded like he had a little grief in his voice.

"It was nice of you gentlemen to give us a lift in your.... ...ship to help us find my son." Said Judy. "No problem, human mistress! Anything to fulfill a friend's request! Even though I take a dimview on the lad and would be much delighted to dismantle him instead, judging by our history." Replied Zix. "Pardon?" "I said, by using a sample of the hair strand you provided us with, we could be able to navigate his impulse connected to his DNA. See that beeping light on the panel, ma'am? The closer we reach him, the faster the light blinks, and then the frequency will increase in volume! That way, in case you're asleep or tuned out by headphones, you will be alarm!" "Oh, thank you, thank you! With your help, what do we have to loose?"

Judy was so eager in rescuing her son, she don't dare peeling her eyes away from that beeping light, despite the fact that Zix mentioned the sound would alarm her. Meanwhile, after getting Sheen off her back, Libby walked around the ship for a bit. McSpanky's may be in terrible shape, from both inside and out, but it still looked the same like how she remembered it. The Ramen Bowl is good and cheap, but she longed for some fast veggie burgers and fries. Thanks a lot, Neutron. While Libby continued to walk around the burnt out eatery, she met with something that made her wanna end her exploration. It was a human being, frozen in solid carbonite. They looked oddly familiar to her, and pretty much the nametag soon gave it away. Hello, My Name Is Skeet. Meanwhile, Sheen was bonding with Travoltron over his Ultralord action figures.

"I'm confused, human buddy. Is Alltralewd suppose to be a television show, or a profitable toyline?" "'Ultralord,' not 'Alltralewd.' Second, it originally began as a toyline from around the late 70s'! Commercial sales weren't doing too good, so a comic book was published in 1982 to help promote their toys, which is still running to this day! Unfortunately, kids were too lazy to read, so then they decided to air a TV show by the time the 90s' hit! I don't know why other so-called fans are sleeping on the comic series. There's a lot of juicy stuff in there that my father would never let me see! I'm talkin' TV-14, by the way." "Okay, got it. And this tiny character is suppose to be his son?" "That's Ultralord's faithful sidekick, ToyBoy! He's like a son to him, but Ultralord doesn't have any kids! At least not until the release of the 'Ultralord And Vespagirl: I Do' comic. Now, ToyBoy was this little orphan kid named Bradley Hasbro with a obsessive compulsion with computers, and because of that, nobody came for his adoption. Ultralord, however, saw the boy had potential in him, so he not only raised him but trained him into a skilled mecha warrior! Pretty soon, he learned there is more to life that's far important than the internet and digital gaming! Sadly, he got killed off in the twelfth episode of the fifth season, just for the sake... *Sniff, sob* the company wanted to make room for new toys." "I'm sorry to hear that, human buddy. You have my sympathy. May he rest in peace." "And Godspeed to his legacy or whoever still remembers him!"

The two then hugged it out. Tee began to notice, and mistook it as comfort for the loss of Jimmy. Tee walked over to Sheen.

"Awwwww, no need to get all emotional, little man! I'm sure he's out there somewhere!" "Yes; In a better place." "Now don't say that, Sheen! If you like, I'd be happy to take his place for you!" "Nobody could replace him. He was one in a million." "I think somebody needs a hug." "Wha--No, NOOO!"

Tee opened his arms wide, preparing to envelope his sad friend into a big hug. Getting a hug from Tee is like getting squeezed by a grizzly bear until your eyeballs pop out. Sheen declined his offer, but that didn't stop Tee in attempting to make his friend feel good. Sheen began to back away without looking where he was going. Because of being so careless, he crawled up on the control panel, and accidentally sat on a button. When Zix noticed, he threw Sheen off the panel.

"FOOL, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE?!" "Not really."

The button had activated the ship's sublight thrusters, and then, with everyone inside, McSpanky's blasted into hyperspace.

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

[*Hours earlier; Medieval times*]

After a big, hearty breakfast, it was time to get to work. Diana followed them behind. She was going to harvest some crops and then plant new ones. Just when Jimmy was about to touch the stuff in the wheelbarrow, Diana stopped him with a loud WAIT! She took the stuff back into the shed, organizing everything back to where it was neatly.

"I get fussy when things are disorganized." Said Diana. "Thanks, so can we have the stuff now?" Asked Jimmy. "The pleasure is yours." "And those wooden planks; Do you mind if we 'break' those? Our home depends on it." "Wellllllllll... Ah, why not? If it'll get you home, then do as you must. I could always just steal new ones! You're lucky this isn't King Jason's palace. If he finds one scratch or fingerprint on his merchandise, you'd get hanged. And by the way, are we still on that deal that you boys will visit us occasionally?" "Sure! We do owe you after all."

Diana dropped her gardening tools, then embraced both Jimmy and Nick into a big hug. Jimmy thought hugs from Tee were bad. Even while she was using little strength as possible, it still felt like she could break their bones in a matter of minutes. After releasing them, she went on with her gardening chore, while Jimmy and Nick took time to recover on the ground. After that, they got up and gathered whatever Jimmy insisted they needed. A few planks, a wagon wheel, a weather vane, twine, and some other stuff. Luckily, the shed was also equipped with some tools and a box of tacks. Though they don't require power to run, Jimmy can still makeshift with them. They used the wheelbarrow to carry the stuff to a clear area perfect enough to build their time machine. Nick suggested he should help.

"I've got this, Nick. Don't worry." "No, I insist! You look like you could use all the help you could get." "You don't have to, ya know. We're not handcuffed anymore." "But I want to. I really want to. We're friends, right? Friends help each other. Besides, there's nothing to do around here."

At that moment, Jimmy was speechless. Nobody has ever lend Jimmy a hand with constructing, and if he asks, they'll either say "no" or "nah." Whenever he pulls out a hammer or a power drill, his friends do nothing but sit and watch. Just because he can manage, doesn't mean it's easy. Some of the gear he uses are heavy and call for upper body strength. Doing it alone takes longer to finish. His friends probably feel it's too complex for their position, so he gives them easier jobs instead. That could be the reason why Jimmy is used to working on his own. He rarely relies on teamwork. The boy genius never asked for anyone's help, not even from Cindy. The explanation has nothing to do with pride. Perhaps a little. Not like they would've been interested, anyways.

He would've decline again, but Nick was actually the first to actually ask if he could assist Jimmy on an invention. Nick is doing so much for him, the boy genius has no clue why he deserves it. Nick apologized for his brass behavior. He opened up secrets to him. He shown concern for his future. He even cooked him a delicious breakfast. Now, he wishes he could volunteer because he wants to. All that, and never asked for anything in return. Nick is different from his other friends back home. VERY, very different. He is so ridiculously considerate, it set Jimmy's heart pounding, although he tried to pass it on as a sign of stress or confusion. Maybe Jimmy does need his help. Maybe Nick could make himself useful. After all, the time would be done faster if they worked together. Without speaking a word, he placed a mallet-like hammer in Nick's hand, then gave him a single nod, followed by a grin.

With Jimmy's directions, Nick was set in the right path. Thanks to Nick's strength, the job was more bearable to take. Jimmy arranged the measurements, and left the sawing to Nick. Both of them did the hammering. Nick carefully lined a tack at the bottom of a plank board. Watching his fingers, he pounded the tack in. ...and then the top of the plank hit him in the face.

Meanwhile, Diana was already at her gardening. She had just finished the harvesting, now is about time for the planting. Throwing aside the shovel, she punched holes in the dirt, leading the ground to shake slightly.

Back to the boys, Nick acted as Jimmy's human ladder so that he'd help his short friend work to heights far beyond his reach. On with the hammering again. Jimmy gave Nick the honor of hammering two planks together. Just like the accident from before, the plank hit Jimmy in the face. To make up for that mistake, Nick purposely hammered a plank just to hit himself in the face. Both then had a good laugh out of that.

Diana finished planting the seeds, now on to pulling out the dead weeds. When she got to the sixth weed, it seemed to be stuck in the ground tight. Putting in her best strength, she tugged the weed with all her will. To her surprise, out came a whole willow tree. Turns out that weed had been a root all along.

Down to more hammering, the boys stood apart from each other, as Jimmy was prepared to pound in another tack. This time they made sure to stay out of the way so neither of them get hit in the face again. Unfortunately, he set the plank board flying and it hit Benson in the face, who was just about to serve them refreshments.

Within 3 hours, they were finished at that time. The new time machine was just a simple three wall box with a wagon wheel and vane on top, but it was more than that through Jimmy's eyes. It's the thought that counts. ...and getting home. Nick was happy him and Jimmy got to do something together.

"Can this thing really take us back home?" Asked Nick. "Not precisely. All we need now is some hypothetical earthbound, such as quartz of any type, and a strike of lightning to charge electricity into the machine, consequently granting it enough power to transport us back home. Which is why I took the liberty of making this! Just one bolt will do the trick!" Said Jimmy, holding up a handmade kite. "That's cool, Jim! But how will we know when a thunderstorm will come up?" "Usually cumulonimbus clouds early in the day and developing throughout the day can mean greater chances of severe weather. I suggest looking after the sky for any cumulus activity. In other words, watch out for dense-looking gray clouds."

Jimmy decided to head back into the barn where he can keep his kite safe, while Nick followed. Suddenly, Benson stopped them.

"Don't you dare take one more step!" Scold Benson. "You're still angry about the plank incident, aren't you?" Asked Nick. "No! But my nose detects a wretched odor around here! At which hour wast the last time thee two bathed?" "Oh, about four days." Replied Jimmy. "For me, five." replied Nick. "Four days? Five days?! MY WORD!!!"

Benson ran into the house at super speed, then came back outside with a few things. An empty bucket with a bar of soap, and two towels. He also held two robes and two pairs of slippers.

"Foulness is not tolerated around here! If't be true you wish to stay as our guest, thee must compel in personal hygienes! It's important for your health!"

Nick called for Diana to see if it's actually necessary.

"Yo Di! Do we even have to?!" Shouted Nick. "To me, it's completely optional. But then again, he'll just continue to pester you unless you follow his demand." "Hmph. Well, looks like we have no other choice if this bearded housewife is gonna slow us down. My hair is getting oily anyways." "You know, you could never get away with walking freely around the village with your stench carrying over, otherwise King Jason's guards will have you hanged." "We never asked, but thank you for sharing that info with us, Diana." Said Jimmy.

Both of them took a robe and a pair of slippers. Benson was kind enough to point them to the water well. He also advised that they should take turns using the bucket and soap. Jimmy and Nick had to remove their clothes so that Benson could wash them. The boy genius headed inside the barn to change, while Nick went behind the shed. Getting inside the house would've been better, but he feels rather uncomfortable getting naked in the same place with that freaky Rodent Girl. After that, Benson took out a scrub brush and a bar of soap.

"Where are you, Oona?"

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

[*Fifty minutes later*]

Jimmy and Nick were sitting on separate stools. They were shivering cold from the water they rinsed off with. Jimmy's hair was wrapped in a towel. They sat around a tight wire, where their clothes were hanging to dry. The boys were wearing nothing but their robes and fuzzy slippers.

"Hey Nick, mind if I ask a simple question?" "Yeah, what is it?" "Yesterday, you mentioned about being in a relationship with someone whose always hurt you." "I'd rather not talk about it." "But Nick, you could spare me all the details if you like. You even have the right to have this person's name withheld. Please? We're friends. I swear, I will never peep a word about this to anyone. And when we get home, I could probably erase my memory for you! What are you afraid of?" "That you won't believe me?" "You've been entirely honest with me. What's there not to believe?"

Nick refuses to explain his life further on, but Jimmy gave him the option to explain very little if he wants to. Jimmy is curious, but he's not pressuring Nick to confess. Could he be returning concern for him? Heck, why not? He's already fallen victim to those big, blue, twinkling eyes. Those eyes were begging him to show 'n tell. Dammit, why does he have to be so cute? He just needs to keep it short and simple. He can't say it was his dad, because he already told him he never knew him.

"Okay; If it's flustering to you, I'm sorry for butting in. It is your personal life, after all." Said Jimmy. "It was a family member." Replied Nick. "What? Huh?" "A family member. A relative that lived with us for quite some time long ago, from my 'father's' side. I don't feel like giving out a name or gender. Let me tell ya, they were a grade A a-hole. They gave me these painful scars. Not physical scars, but mental. Ohhhhhhhh, how I hated them. This relative felt I was the epitome of imperfect. They ridiculed everything about me; the way I act, talk, and dress. If there's a problem I can't fix, I'm suppose to take care of it myself to prove I'm man enough. Every time they have a problem of their own, I was to be blamed for. My poor mom couldn't do anything about it, cuz she was just as weak minded as I was. After they left, I didn't feel relief. In fact, I actually believed what they said about me was true. That's why I adapted this cool, slick, biker gang wannabe image. To prove them wrong." "I'm sorry to hear that, Nick. Whatever they have said about you, I know they are wrong. You're a real good friend. Possibly the nicest guy I've ever known. I don't know what is there about you to make a creep out of." "Thanks. You've been a good friend yourself. So far, you've been my first, and real friend." "I don't have to be your 'only.' You could always join me and the gang, where the fun is really at!" "Are you saying we should be more open about our friendship?" "Of course! We are best friends now, aren't we?" "I don't know about it. I mean, like I've told you before, I'm still weak minded." "And like I'VE told you, you we're not what that scum made you out to be! Didn't you also tell me you hated your life just how it was before? You're the one who told me how this 'Mr. Popularity' position made you miserable! If you're afraid people won't accept the real you, well I accept! I accept you to infinity! Where's your self-respect?" "I-I I'm sorry, but it's just that I've climbed so high to reach up to that torch, I don't think I'm ready to back out now. I don't want to disappoint my fans." "*Sigh* Nick... There's something you oughta know."

Jimmy confronted Nick about the downfall he is completely oblivious to. He used to be the top dog, but after breaking his leg far too many times, nobody took him seriously anymore. The more Nick goofed on a stunt, the smaller his crowds became. He was still handsome, but girls were too embarrassed to have an open crush on some skateboard loser. The weaker, nerdier kids weren't afraid to make fun of him. The boys that have claimed themselves as Nick's supportive friends have been talking smack behind his back. They always laugh at him under his breaths. Whenever Nick falls into another injury, they always say they'll get help, only to be gone for about 5 hours, or until it gets dark. He refuses to acknowledge that. He wanted to believe he was still cool, and he kept trying. The problem is, the more he tried, the more he hurt himself. Quitting is always an option, but that would just bring his entire popularity to waste. He sacrificed his childhood to get on that pedestal. His father would be right about him; He is a failure. People like him were only born out of a mistake.

Nick sat with his head hanging down low. Jimmy didn't need to tell. He knew he was becoming a has-been, but he didn't wanna accept it. All he wanted was to be loved. Admired. Not get hurt. Be the opposite of what Dan saw him as. On the other side of the coin, Nick has never felt so happy in his life. He has lived the worst twelve years in his life. Before and after he became cool, he never had the casualty of experiencing a real childhood. Jimmy was right. He was miserable to how things were before. If he keeps trying to be someone he's not, he's just gonna continue being that way before he dies. Hanging out with Jimmy gave him the opportunity to reveal his true self. He was a caterpillar trapped in a cold cocoon, now he bursts free like a butterfly. The boy genius never mocked him or laughed at him. He has found the comfort zone he's been desiring for. Standing by his true love's side had been his dream, but does he really want to retire?

Before Jimmy was ready to say anything, Nick placed a hand on his lap.

"I'll think about it."

Nick smiled at Jimmy, then Jimmy smiled back. Unfortunately, the moment then died down when they saw that Mitzi had returned from work, giving the boys a twitchy eye from seeing them in their robes together, with Nick's hand on his friend's lap.

"Don't get the wrong idea! I'm not even ready for that!" Nick got up and snapped. "Nick Nick Nick Nick, Nick. Calm down." Said Jimmy. "(I see that twitchy eye! I SEE IT!)" "Pardon us, ma'am, but there's a logical explanation. We were requested, or commanded, to wash up, and we are currently waiting for our laundry to dry. Apologies for our appearances."

Mitzi looked like she wasn't buying it.

"You two can come up with a better excuse than that."

She turned around and headed back into the house. Both of Nick's fists were balling, and he was ready to strike. However, Jimmy was able to calm him down afterwards.

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

[*Nighttime*]

Jimmy and Nick gotten back into their clothes after they were fully dried, then Nick prepared a special dinner that night. He fixed some Brazilian-styled fried chicken with a kale salad on the side, also Brazilian. He also baked a batch of fluffy, sweet bread rolls. Not Brazilian, by the way. Diana and Rodent Girl loved Nick's pancakes so much, they begged him to make a gourmet dinner for them. Lucky for them, Nick loves to cook. Everyone was pleased with their meal, except Mitzi. She was the last one to try the food, as if she thinks it's poisoned. Not to mention, she didn't compliment his cooking like everyone else. Nick would've let her starve if she weren't friends with a 6'3 bodybuilder.

After dinner, the dishes were left with Benson, and the two boys went back to their barn suite for a goodnight's sleep. They used the leftover planks to seal off the windows, and they let Butterscotch sit in front of the door, just to keep a certain rat lady out. Nick grabbed a blanket and hopped onto his hay bed. When Jimmy was about to get his blanket ready for slumber, he found that a cow was chewing it. He tried to retrieve the blanket by pulling, only to tear it to sheds in the process. Poor Jimmy will have to sleep cold tonight.

"Here; Have mine."

Nick offered Jimmy his only blanket. Jimmy just refused. He couldn't take Nick's offer cuz he's already done so much for him.

"I couldn't, Nick. You deserve it." "C'mon, little man. I would never let a friend sleep in the cold." "Yeah, but I'd be more happier if you took it. You've done a lot for me, and it's the least I can do in return." "Wait! Why not we improvise?"

And with that, Nick undid the zipper and buttons on his black leather jacket, and then put it over Jimmy's shoulders. The boy genius was so tiny, the jacket was able to cover him like a blanket, and it was fairly warm too. Thanking Nick, then giving him a hug as a goodnight, Jimmy crawled up on the hay and drifted off. Nick took one quick glance on Jimmy before laying down. He's so precious to him, he'd be damned if he just let him sleep out in the cold. Even though Jimmy said so himself that he doesn't have to keep doing all this nice stuff for him, Nick can't help himself. He loves Jimmy too much.

#Jimmy Neutron #Boy Genius #Nick Dean #Cindy Vortex #Libby Folfax #Carl Wheezer #Sheen Estevez #Season 4 #fanfic #romance #adventure #TVverse #TVEE

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raspberryparker · 5 years

Text

someday | five

college!au spidey x fem!reader

← previous | series masterlist | next → word count: 5,558 summary: UPDATED! i changed the end of the chapter so please read it again even if you already have! i was not happy with this at all so i fixed it. warnings: see masterlist read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist!

━━━━━━━━

There weren’t a lot of things that George hated.

Despite his rather irritated and occasionally aggressive demeanour (which he attributed to his perpetually annoyed facial expression), he actually did manage to find the good in almost everything. He definitely didn’t look like it, but he’d consider himself a ‘silver lining’ kind of man. Though in his line of work, he didn’t find many of those, unfortunately.

There was one thing, however, that he hated more than anything else, especially in his workplace.

And that was secrecy.

There was definitely something going on, and it most certainly wasn’t any form of ‘animal attacks’, which was what the public relations office told all the precincts to claim the recent accidents were. Apparently it had come from their higher-ups, so there was next to nothing anyone could do about it, but it didn’t mean the captain had to like it.

Something was just not right about the whole thing. And although his precinct was at the heart of where the incidents began to occur and he’d been placed in charge of the investigation, there was an increasing feeling of ‘no, that can’t be’ whenever he thought about the whole situation.

Rubbing his temples, he let out a sigh, looking at the pile of paperwork on his desk that he’d yet to sort through after the most recent… ‘accident’. Although the perpetrator of these crimes (if ‘perpetrator’ was even close to an adequate word) didn’t have a distinguishable modus operandi, George had a creeping suspicion of the type of people they were going after. When Alan Montgomery was found dead in his home by his cleaning staff, eviscerated in a way all too similar to the previous victims, the captain was almost disappointed in himself. He should have known the wealthy connoisseur be a target. Pulling him from his thoughts, the knock at his office door was a welcome change from the deafening silence he’d been sitting in for the past couple of hours, and he called for whoever it was to come in.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, I know you’re busy.”

With a timid grin, the new receptionist stood in the doorway with her hands clutched in front of her chest. It was still Lisa’s first month, and she hadn’t fully gotten used to her position.

“No worries,” the captain said. “What do you need?”

“Commissioner Johnston is on line three?” she told him, though the upturn in her tone at the end made it sound more like a question. “It sounded pretty urgent.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly. “I’ll answer in a moment.”

Lisa nodded quickly and ducked out of the office door, her red ponytail whipping around as she shut it behind her. George sighed, knowing just what he was in for as he reached for the receiver sitting to the right of his desk. He paused just before he grabbed it, his hand suspended in the air above it. He took a deep breath, and then picked up the receiver, pressing the button for the third line next to the blinking red hold light.

“This is Captain George Stacy.” He tried to sound as professional as he could, despite the ever growing concern he was afraid would come through in his voice.

“Captain Stacy, Commissioner Johnston.” A gruff, monotonous voice that he knew far better than he would have liked to greeted him. “I trust you’re doing well?”

“As well as I can be, sir,” George replied, repressing his sigh. “I’m sure you’re aware of how the investigation is going thus far.”

“Ah, yes, well that’s why I called,” the commissioner explained. There was something in his voice that George couldn’t quite place. It was something akin to irritation or annoyance, but then again the commissioner was never a very expressive person. “I’ve already contacted the other precincts involved to inform them, but I will need you and the detectives you have working the cases to come to an impromptu meeting here at headquarters.”

“Of course, sir. When would you like us to be there?”

“It would be best if you arrived as soon as you could,” Johnston said. There it was again, that… something. He was frustrated. “There is a sudden need to discuss the new— the complexity of the investigation.”

George was silent for a moment as he took in the unspoken words that passed between them. “I understand.”

“Good. When you arrive, Deputy Commissioner Gardner will be there to escort you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you shortly, then.”

“Thank you.”

Even after he’d hung up the phone, he sat there for a moment wondering just what could be so important that the commissioner had called him personally— and called everyone else. That man’s job was a busy one, and he didn’t exactly have the time to be personally invested in what all the precincts were up to. But at the same time, this was a rather unconventional situation in many ways.

He decided there was nothing to be done. Not yet, anyway.

Standing from his desk, he smoothed the creases of his uniform jacket and stepped out into the bullpen. The familiar ambient chatter of the officers and detectives, multiple phones ringing at once and the odd shout from someone who’d been detained was almost comforting to the captain. The precinct was his second home.

“Lisa, I have a meeting with the Commissioner at headquarters,” he informed her as he passed her desk. “While I’m away, anything that would have come to me goes to Sergeant—”

“Hughes, yes,” Lisa interrupted with a smile, her freckled face glowing with pride at the fact that she’d remembered. “She’s in charge while you’re away. I remember.”

“Excellent. If it’s urgent, though, you can call my cell.”

“Have a safe trip, sir.”

As he passed by the desks throughout the floor, he called to the two detectives he had placed on the investigation.

“Flores, Crawford— let’s go.”

He didn’t even have to turn to see the smile on Detective Crawford’s face as she grabbed her jacket and slung her badge around her neck.

“Oh Hell yeah, field trip!” she exclaimed. “Where we goin’, capitan?”

“Headquarters,” he informed her, pressing the button next to the elevator that would take them down to their small parking garage. “Everyone working the recent cases was called for a meeting with the Commissioner.”

“Are we in trouble?” Flores questioned from behind him. He sounded almost frightened.

“I doubt it; you’ve both done an excellent job so far.”

They clambered into the elevator, and although the air around the captain was almost buzzing with nerves, he could feel the excited energy radiating off the young female detective in the car with them.

“Man, I haven’t been up there in a while,” she said. “Can we take my car?”

“No,” George deadpanned. The last time he rode in her car she almost killed them both and the runaway suspect they were chasing. He wouldn’t be caught dead in that car, which was exactly how he suspected he’d end up if he took her up on the offer.

“You’re no fun.”

“Have you met him?” Flores joked.

When they reached the garage, they all got in to the captain’s sedan and, following Flores and Crawford’s childish dispute for who got to ride shotgun (why were they working the case again?), the three of them set off en route to One Police Plaza.

They were, however, entirely unaware of the masked web-slinger swinging in the air a short distance away, following close behind.

━━━━━━━━

“Ned, I can’t hear anything.”

“That’s not my problem. Why don’t you ask Karen since you love her so much?”

With a roll of his eyes, Peter sighed, “Karen, can you get me ears on that conversation?”

The cheerful, polite voice in his suit he’d grown accustomed to over the past five years responded in an automated chirp almost instantly.

“I apologize, Peter, but that conversation is outside the maximum distance for my receivers.”

“This is ridiculo— Ned are you eating?!”

“Yeah,” Ned replied, voice muffled and full of whatever he was snacking on. “I’m eating the granola bars you hide under your bed. Total rookie move, by the way, that’s the first place anyone would look. Consider it my revenge.”

Peter almost slipped off the lamppost he was perched on as he scrambled to reply to Ned.

“Hey! Don’t eat too many of those or you’ll get sick. And stop going through my stuff!”

“Calm down, I was only gonna have one anyway,” Ned said in annoyance. “I’ve been stuck in your room for a while and I got hungry. You can’t blame me, especially when you buy the ones that are really good. These things are like crack.”

With a huff at his best friend’s attitude, Peter pressed two fingers to his temple next to the edge of his mask lenses, zooming in his heads-up display on a window almost two blocks away.

He could clearly see Captain Stacy and the two detectives that he’d brought with him from the precinct along with him in a small conference room on the eighth floor of the police headquarters. They and a few others, who Peter could only assume were other captains and detectives from different precincts based on their uniforms (or lack thereof in the detective’s cases), were seated at a long rectangular table, the Deputy Police Commissioner sitting next to the head of the table, which remained empty. All of them were talking amongst themselves, but without being able to hear them, there was little Peter could infer as he watched them speak. He wasn’t exactly the best at reading lips.

Just then, Commissioner Johnston (with whom Spider-Man had had a few unfortunate run-ins in the past) entered the room and stood at the head of the table. He addressed the group, before sitting with them.

“Oh my God, Ned, we’re wasting time!” Peter exclaimed. He was growing frustrated. “Can you do something? Please?!”

All of this would have been avoided if Peter had just kept his mouth shut on the way to the Civic Centre.

He’d made an offhand remark about how Karen (so, in other words, Stark’s suit tech) was the most useful thing he’d ever had as Spider-Man. Ned happened to take personal offence to this. But wouldn’t anyone if they’d stayed up countless nights developing new software systems for their best friend’s suit, constructing helpful gadget bots to accompany him as he did his thing, and overall just putting up with the stress that came with having a best friend like Peter who endangered himself every day?

Ned had argued, calling Peter a ‘meanie-butt’ as if they were twelve again, and refusing to help him with the task at hand. And, stupidly, Peter’s had but a simple “fine,” in response.

Big mistake.

“You know, if you were still dating Gwen, you wouldn’t even have to—”

“Yes, well, I’m not anymore, so I can’t,” Peter interrupted. His brow furrowed as he angrily recalled how his last relationship ended.

“Jeez, sorry,” Ned said sarcastically, mouth still full of food and voice sounding distorted by the comm system. “I’m just saying.”

“Instead of saying shit like that, can you at least try to help me, please?”

“Hm, okay.” Peter felt himself relax finally at Ned’s agreement. “But only if you admit that you wouldn’t be where you are without me.”

“What?”

“And promise me you won’t replace me with Karen.”

“Ned you’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe I should go over to Y/N’s, then,” he said, and Peter could hear him get up from the desk chair as if he were about to leave. “She’d probably be better company than you right now.”

“Alright!” Peter sighed, bringing a palm up over his masked face. “I promise.”

Whatever would make him help, right?

“Was that so hard?”

Gritting his teeth at Ned’s stubbornness (even thought that was one of the reasons they worked so well together), Peter decided to try his best at deciphering what the commissioner was saying as his best friend’s typing sounded through the comm line. He wondered just how Ned was planning to help him hear what they were saying. It had been a while since he’d tinkered with technology, taking more interest in the chemical and biological aspects of science.

“What’s taking so long?” Peter asked, but he didn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it did.

“Hey, stop complaining,” Ned replied. “It’s not my fault you broke Droney ‘cause you’re lazy.”

“In my defence, I was sick.”

“Sure,” Ned replied, dragging out the word in sarcasm.

Peter remembered that day with distaste, the day he’d been bed-ridden and had to miss all of his classes because he stayed out too long in the rain the night before and he’d caught a cold. Ned, feeling bad for him and being the great friend he was, bought him pizza from his favourite parlour and brought it to the dorm for him.

But Ned had been running late for his next lecture and Peter was too exhausted to go down and get the pizza, so he instructed Ned to stand below his window. He’d slapped on his suit’s mask and made the small spider drone go get it.

He learned the hard way that Droney wasn’t exactly designed to do heavy lifting.

“I feel kinda bad, though. Poor little guy.”

“If he’s dead it’s your fault for not getting your ass outta bed.”

“He’s not dead! You can fix him, right?” Peter asked, his worries coming through in his tone.

“Of course I can, who do you think I am?” Ned scoffed. “But what would you rather I do first: fix Droney or get you ears in that room?”

Peter found it best to shut up in that moment.

He listened as Ned continued to type up a storm, probably running some code through one of his many programs. At long last he explained what he was doing.

“You’re lucky your suit gets good cell reception. I managed to intercept a call from the commissioner’s cellphone and re-route the radio transmission right to your suit.”

“Who’s he calling?” Peter asked

“Me! Well actually, no one, really. Because the phone’s connected to the wifi in the building, I was able to turn it on remotely and then override the calling system. So it’s just transmitting what the mic picks up and not receiving any waves from a connecting call. Meaning, we can hear him but he can’t hear us.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Tell that to Professor Howard. The highest mark he’s ever given me is an eighty-six.”

Peter waited impatiently as Ned worked his magic. He had a point thought; he almost certainly never would have gotten anywhere near where he was in life without Ned by his side. He owed so much to him.

“Okay,” Ned muttered. “Patching us through… now.”

“—and it is imperative that you treat this meeting with the utmost confidentiality.”

They caught on the end of the commissioner’s sentence, his tone low and serious. Peter watched as Captain Stacy shuffled in his seat, the rest of the people in the room nodding.

“Good. Now, I suppose there’s no point dawdling so I’ll get straight to the point,” Johnston went on. “It is no surprise to me that you all are having trouble with this investigation. Even the city’s best detectives can’t seem to profile the perpetrator. And yes, I should clear it up— the ‘animal attacks’ were just a ruse. We fully believe there is a person behind these deaths.”

One of the detectives Captain Stacy had brought with him, the woman, nudged her partner to the left of her and muttered, “Told ‘ya.”

Peter snickered as their captain shot her a sharp look.

“I have been asked by the mayor to inform you of the intricacy of this situation. As much as the public relations office has tried to keep it out of the spotlight of the media, it has been hard to stop public speculation. Unfortunately, they haven’t been entirely off the mark.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he listened to the commissioner explains what exactly had happened.

The murdered men (who they could now say with certainty were murdered) had all had some sort of criminal affiliation in their past. But all of their wrongdoings, however, had been covered up, whether it was by dirty cops, by lawyers, or by their own personal security teams. There was a hint in his tone that Peter didn’t recognize, but it had the men and women in the conference room wide eyed and shocked. It appeared they’d all been part of some sort of organized crime, and by that he most likely meant the mob.

The first one to come to mind for Peter was, of course, the Maggia. Considering the confrontation he had with Hammerhead a couple days prior, it was no surprise to him that something had been going on.

But it would seem that it was an outsider who was now coming in and wreaking havoc. He went on to explain that they believed he was ‘wiping out the competition’, planning an active takeover of all organized crime in the city.

Captain Stacy stood then, after the Commissioner had finished explaining.

“Sir, if you don’t mind,” he began.

The commissioner nodded for him to continue.

“Well, with the recent rise in ‘superheros’ and people with extraordinary powers, strength, abilities and the like… it wouldn’t be too ludicrous to assume that this perp might also have one or more of those aspects.”

The look on the commissioner’s face was one of utter irritation.

“Stacy,” he said. “Are you suggesting that this is another mutant, ‘super villain’ thing?”

“In short, yes.”

“Then I would have to say that yes, it would be too ludicrous.”

The captain’s brows furrowed in concern at Johnston’s response. “Sir—”

“Captain Stacy, I know you’ve had your problems in the past with people like that, and truly, you have my condolences for the incident with Dr. Connors— it was very fortunate that… the wall-crawler saved your life.” Johnston said (Peter smirked at the reference; he’d forgotten how adamant the commissioner was about refusing to say the word ‘Spider-Man’). “But you cannot possibly be suggesting that this is another instance of that.”

“I’m afraid I am, sir,” Stacy said, looking serious. “With the way the victims were killed and all factors considered, I don’t think that would be too far off.”

“If it really was something like that,” Johnston went on, looking angrier by the second. “Wouldn’t those so-called Avengers already be taking care of it? It would be in their line of work, would it not?”

“What if they’re not aware that this is serious in that way?”

“Captain Stacy, I am sorry, but I’m afraid that that is enough.”

Peter noticed the way the captain’s jaw clenched as he took his seat again, looking down at his hands balled into fists in his lap.

“Anybody else have any ridiculous suggestions?” the deputy commissioner asked. He looked around at the table. They all avoided eye contact with him.

All of a sudden, Karen switched the heads-up display in his suit monitor to infrared, changing Peter’s view and focusing on the figures outlined in red that were approaching the room.

“There appear to be four unknown persons approaching,” she informed him.

“Run a facial recognition through police records once they’re in eyesight,” Peter instructed.

It turned out, however, that that would be unnecessary.

The four men entered the room, each of them neatly dressed in black suits. The commissioner looked at them quizzically, as if he wasn’t expecting them. With a smile, the one if front introduced the group.

“Hello,” he said. “Sorry to intrude on this meeting but we were hoping to speak to Commissioner Johnston.”

“And who exactly are you?” the commissioner asked.

“We’re from S.H.I.E.L.D.” the man replied, a pleased grin on his face.

At this, the commissioner’s eyes widened, and he looked at the rest of the group. “I think I’m going to have to cut this meeting short. Deputy Commissioner Gardner, if you could escort them out.”

There were confused looks on the faces of the people in the room as the deputy commissioner ushered them out of the door. Even he looked back at Johnston with a confused look in his face, mouthing ‘who are these guys?’ as he stepped out of the room.

Johnston could do nothing but shake his head.

When the room was empty save for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and the commissioner, Johnston turned to them with a tight lipped frown.

“Gentlemen,” he began. “What can I help you with?”

“We couldn’t help but overhear what Captain Stacy mentioned to you earlier,” one of them said. Peter frowned. They hadn’t even been close to the room when Stacy had mentioned mutated villains. Had they bugged the rooms? Or done something similar to Ned?

“We’re sad to have to burst your bubble, but he may be right.”

The look of utter confusion on the commissioner’s face brought a smile to Peter’s. If there was anything he like more than stopping crime, it was messing with ol’ stick-in-the-mud Johnston. Just the fact that these agents were basically telling ‘you’re wrong’ made him laugh.

“We thought that you should be made aware of a not-so recent development that might help with the investigation.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Johnston sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Two months ago, during September, there was a break in at Oscorp Industries. Nothing serious was stolen, but we do know that Oscorp is responsible for the incident with Dr. Curtis Connors. We have decided to step in just to ensure nothing like that happens again.”

“You’ve got to be— why weren’t the police informed of that break in?” Johnston questioned, frustrated.

“Mr. Osborn preferred to keep it under wraps, so to speak,” the agent said.

The commissioner sighed deeply, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked at the agents standing before him and jerked his head toward the entrance. “Meet me in my office.”

He left the room, grumbling the whole time about stupid, muddling agents and their stupid organizations. The agents were muttering amongst themselves, but since the commissioner had left and took his phone with him, Peter couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Ned—” Peter began, but was cut off as his best friend had already got a head start on what he was about to ask him.

“On it,” he said, the familiar clack of his keyboard ringing in the comm line. “They bugged the room. I don’t know where it is exactly, but it’s wireless. I can tap into it for you.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Oh, now you appreciate me. Suck my dick, Parker, you’re such a kiss-ass.”

“Anything for you,” Peter singsonged, knowing it’d get under Ned’s skin.

“I hate you.”

“Yes, that’s why you put up with me.”

“I regret everything.”

Peter laughed to himself, adjusting his position on the lamppost. It was a motion sensor light, and so far no one had walked on the sidewalk underneath it so he was completely hidden in the evening darkness. He gripped the edge of the metal, his fingers adhering and securing his grip.

“Okay, we should have audio….” Ned muttered.

A crackling sound was heard through the line, before the distorted audio cleared itself up. The agents were discussing something and it sounded important.

“We can’t let the police get suspicious,” the one who’d done all of the talking (Peter assumed he was their leader or at least the agent in charge) said. “Under no circumstances are you to disclose any information to them without consulting me first.”

“Sir, what about the break-in suspect?” another asked.

“He’s being dealt with,” the agent in charge said. “He was hospitalized for some time because of a stab wound he received after the fact. It appears two sources were after the vial. There was a witness to that incident but he seemed to know nothing of the theft. He was just walking home from his job.”

“Has Mr. Osborn told us what was in the vial?”

“No, he still chooses to keep that to himself,” he sighed. “But knowing him it can’t be anything good. If it were to get into the wrong hands who knows what could happen. But I fear that it already has, given the recent incidents. But remember, we are here to oversee, not to interfere. Only step in if someone gets too suspicious or starts making crazy assumptions. We still need to let them do their jobs.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they stepped out of the room, Peter heard Ned whistle into his ear.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Weird substance from Oscorp that can’t be let into the wrong hands? Is this what they call deja vu?”

“We don’t know for sure that that’s what it is,” Peter said. “That could have nothing to do with it.”

“How much do you want to bet that it has everything to do with it?” Ned laughed. “I’m in for a hundred.”

“I’m not taking that bet.”

“Oh yeah, because you know that I’m right. Just admit it.”

Peter shook his head, watching in infrared as all five men gathered in Commissioner Johnston’s office a few floors below. They were probably feeding him a load of bullshit. There was no point in being there any longer.

“Okay, I’m heading back,” Peter announced, shooting a web towards a building above him and pulling himself up through the air.

“Sweet, now I get to sleep,” Ned sighed, and for dramatic effect, added a yawn. “You know thanks to you, my sleeping schedule went to shit.”

“You realize I don’t have a sleeping schedule, right?” Peter laughed. He had to raise his voice so that ned could hear him over the sound of the cars passing below him.

“Yeah, but you’re you.” He sounded farther away. Peter could only assume he’d gotten up from the desk and moved to the bed as he usually did. “You’re Spider-Man, and whatever.”

“And whatever,” Peter repeated with a laugh.

Sure, he was Spider-Man.

No big deal.

━━━━━━━━

He never expected the moment of hesitation that came with arriving at his building.

After coming down from the high arch off the building next to it, he rolled softly onto the roof and landed in a crouch. Standing and stretching, his mind suddenly recalled the first time he’d laid eyes on Y/N and the circumstances under which they had met, and he stilled.

She’d been in the common room, fast asleep with a book on her lap an expression so full of peace and tranquility, it had made Peter almost envious. How he’d wished to be able to sleep like that.

He’d stood there in the hallway, all bloody and broken, leaning against the wall and just admiring her. He realized after the fact that it was probably very creepy to have done that and had to resist the urge to physically hit his head against a wall in embarrassment, but in the moment he’d just been staring. She was so open and honest like that. There was even a little bit of drool hanging from the corner of her lips, which made Peter grin to himself.

He must have gotten too distracted, because his grip loosened for only a moment and caused him to almost fall and shout in pain, which was what ended up waking her.

He remembered the look of absolute horror on her face when she saw the state he was in.

And then, as an afterthought, he recalled the look of worry on her face when she asked if it was a thing that he did on a daily basis. Which left him wondering… was she waiting for him?

That was how Peter once again found himself tugging his backpack free from the webs on the brick wall of the alley, though this time he was (mostly) uninjured. In the darkness, he stripped off his suit and tugged on a loose pair of jeans and one of his old Midtown Tech crewnecks, hurriedly stuffing the red and blue material into the bag. He’d remembered to pack shoes this time.

His heart pounded as his stomach sank with the rise of the elevator car. He hadn’t even planned ahead yet, hadn’t thought of what he would actually do if she was in fact waiting for him. But what would he do if she wasn’t?

Holding his breath as he stepped out onto the sixth floor, he couldn’t recognize the feeling in his gut as he saw the outlining of Y/N’s frame curled into a corner of the couch. Was it relief? Was it anxiety? Or was it something completely different? Whatever it was, there was something in him that made his hands shake as he stepped toward the common room.

She must have heard his footsteps, because she whipped her head around toward him with a wide eyed, worried expression.

She looked so cozy. Her elbow was propped on one of the arms of the couch, her chin resting on her fist.

Peter was aware of her gaze raking him up and down, looking at his body and checking for a limp or other signs of injury. When it seemed she found none, the tension in her shoulders released and she let out a sigh. She smiled softly at him through the glass.

He must have been feeling exceptionally brave, because honestly there was nothing that could have possessed him to actually enter the common room if he had been in his right mind. His throat felt dry and his hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Hey,” he muttered. It felt appropriate for his voice to be soft as it was already quit late and dark outside, even thought he was sure that it wouldn’t have made a difference if he’d been a little louder. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

Y/N’s smile fell for a moment as she looked away, and even in the dim light (because she hadn’t bothered to turn on the ceiling light and was sitting only next to a lamp) he could see the way her cheeks took on a rosy hue.

“I was…” she began, looking out the window. “I— I couldn’t sleep.”

The hairs at the back of Peter’s neck stood on end as they usually did when someone wasn’t telling him the truth. But what reason did she have to lie to him?

“Yeah?” he asked. This was awkward, to say the least.

“Yeah,” she replied. “It’s better than my room, I guess.”

He stood there for a moment longer, the tension between them so thick you couldn’t get through it with a hatchet if you tried, before he breathed in sharply through his nose and took a plunge he never thought he’d take.

“Do you wanna… take a walk with me?” he asked, jerking his thumb back toward the elevator. “I wanna show you something. And it might tire you out some more so you can sleep when you get back.”

There was hesitation in her expression.

He should have expected it. After all, she did think he was a criminal. He held his breath once again as she regarded him with a scrutinizing expression, deciding on her response.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I just gotta go to my room and grab a sweater.”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go with him as he waited for her in the common room to return with her sweater. He probably should have grabbed a jacket too, but was too shell-shocked to really think about just how cold he’d get on their walk.

It was still crazy to think about.

She was going on a walk with him. At night. After she’d waited up for him. Of course, she hadn’t admitted to it and she could very well have been telling the truth about not being able to sleep, but Peter wanted to believe that she cared about him even a little the same way he cared about her.

He spotted her in the hall in front of the elevator, waving at him to follow. Peter scrambled out of the glass doors and met her halfway, standing in front of the silver elevator doors as she pressed the button to go down.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, looking at his shoes. “You?”

“I’m great.”

He glanced up at her then, and he swore his heart nearly stopped.

She was looking at the elevator doors as they opened, the softest, most genuine smile on her lips that he’d ever seen. He looked at her wide eyed as she stepped inside the car. She was still grinning.

“Come on, then,” she said. It felt like Peter’s feet were cemented to the floor underneath him. He couldn’t move.

But when she tilted her head at him in confusion, a lopsided grin on her lips at his strange attitude, he managed to will himself forward.

“Let’s go.”

Yeah. Let’s.

━━━━━━━━

she was totally waiting for him and freaking out aagshljshdougdo

A/N: the extent of my knowledge on the way the NYPD works comes from watching every episode of brooklyn 99 twice and it’s probably very obvious... i mean i’m canadian and i don’t even know the difference between the RCMP and the normal cops so don’t look at me

also ned is a lil baby and he’s very defensive of his work i am a Proud Mother

(this one was pretty dialogue heavy and idk how i feel about it... lemme know what you think? it’d really help)

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tags: @psychedelicmagnum @jazmins-main-hoe @trshmthfck @peterstrainingwheels @tomshufflepuff @skelkitt @butwhyduh

message me to be added to a taglist or add yourself (updates coming steadily through november) or send an ask/comment to give me some feedback! x

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one-of-us-blog · 7 years

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Mary Has a Little Lamb (TGG, Season 5, Episode 13)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap Mary Has a Little Lamb, Episode 13 of the fifth season of The Golden Girls. A young friend finds herself in a tough situation, and Blanche finds herself with an unwanted admirer. Will the gals be able to spring into action to set things right once more? Keep reading to find out…

Cap, there is no need to apologize for the tardiness of your last Doctor Who review, given that this particular recap is incredibly late as well! I’ll keep this section brief, but let me quickly say that you did a great job with your recap of Kill the Moon. I was pretty confident you wouldn’t be a big fan of the plot that hatched, but I keep forgetting how much you dislike the supporting human characters this season! I’m looking forward to your thoughts on the rest of the episodes, as I think there are some bright spots remaining. But I had better delay no longer. Let’s head to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Harold Apter, directed by Terry Hughes

The episode opens with Sophia reading a sultry love letter that she got from opening Blanche’s mail. Blanche has been corresponding with an inmate named Merrill, and their passionate exchange has gotten pretty steamy. Despite the concerns of her friends, she sees it as a harmless fantasy to bring a man some joy. After all, Merrill is doing twenty years of hard time for armed robbery, so it’s not like she’s ever going to have to see the guy…right? Someone arrives at the front door, but worry not, it isn’t Merrill (yet). Instead, Mary, a local high school girl who they seem to know from her past cookie sales, visits the girls. Sophia takes one look at her expression, and immediately deduces that Mary is pregnant. This situation sounds even worse, as Mary reveals that she and the father of her child have parted ways, and her own father has kicked her out of the house. She doesn’t know what she is going to do, but the gals immediately offer to let her stay with them. Rose even takes Mary to the kitchen for some pickles and ice cream, a nice treat that isn’t connected to cravings. With Mary in the other room, the remaining ladies discuss how mean her father is being. Sophia insists that his dog is mean as well.

In the next scene, Blanche tells Rose that she missed something in Merrill’s last letter. He is getting out of prison the very next day on a technicality! Blanche is pretty panicked about this, but we’ll get back to the B plot soon. In the meantime, Dorothy takes an extra blanket to the bedroom in which Mary is sleeping, and tucks her in. Mary is comfortable here, but still feels so alone. Dorothy says that she needs to talk to her father, but Mary insists that her old man went crazy when he heard the news. Dorothy reveals that, when she found herself in the same situation many years ago, her own father chased Stan for three blocks with a salami in hand, but eventually his love for his daughter won out. Mary asks Dorothy to say with her until she falls asleep.

We cut to the next day, and Sophia is frantically hiding all the valuables, as Merrill is on his way over. Dorothy thinks that perhaps he will be a gentleman, but we quickly learn that this isn’t the case when Merrill arrives at the front door. “I want Blanche,” he insists as he barges in, ready to wait until she arrives. Dorothy nervously compliments Merrill’s letters, but he admits that his cellmate actually wrote those letters to a night guard. He simply changed the names. He tells the girls to call him Moose, endearing himself even further. Dorothy and Sophia try to lose him, but Blanche returns home before they can. She panics again when she realizes who he is, but with some quick thinking, they all pretend that she isn’t Blanche at all, and even attempt to make the fictional Blanche sound terrible. This actually might have worked, but Rose delivers one insult too many, and Blanche springs to her own defense, insisting that the fictional Blanche is gorgeous. This gives Merrill enough hope to insist that he will be back to see her.

Blanche decides to stay with her friend Janet until Merrill is out of the picture, and Rose wants to sign Mary up for natural child birth classes. Sophia worries about how much responsibility they are taking on, and thinks that Mary’s father should be involved. She gets mad as hell, and is ready to pay the man (and his dog) a visit.

We arrive at the home of Mary’s father, Fred. He reluctantly lets Dorothy and Sophia into his living room, and they all sit down to talk the situation over. Fred’s dog, Samson, stares down Sophia, which is enough to throw her off her game. Her compassionate approach to the situation is to say that Dorothy was a young slut, but that she didn’t turn her out of the house. Fred insists they have no idea what he’s going through. Samson eventually barks at Sophia, and she exits stage right, leaving Dorothy alone to finish the conversation. Dorothy shares her own story about being young and scared, but still isn’t sure how to make Fred understand. He says that maybe he’s stupid, so Dorothy adapts by borrowing one of Rose’s St. Olaf tales about a farmer, Neils, and his daughter, Fricka, who hooked up with the local pig breeder. Neils banished Fricka from his life, and consequently became St. Olaf’s loneliest man. The point is, Mary is sixteen, scared, and carrying Fred’s grandchild…does he really want to abandon her?

Cutting back to the house, we find somebody tied up, and it isn’t even Blanche on a date. Sophia has been roped to a chair, with duct tape covering her mouth. The other girls (eventually) discover her, and she tells them that Merrill did this. She had been sharing some wine and music with the man (dang, Sophia must really be desperate), but when she caved and admitted the truth of the situation to Merrill, he tied her up and took their silver and jewelry.

Jumping forward again, Merrill calls the house to speak to Blanche. He got arrested, and has used his one phone call for some sexy talk. Fred finally comes to see Mary, and tells her that he wants her to return home with him so they can work things out. Mary seems relieved, and father and daughter embrace. The girls all say goodbye, and Mary insists that she won’t be a stranger. Fred mentions the St. Olaf story on the way out the door, and the other girls all stare at Dorothy in amazement. Rose in particular is thrilled. Dorothy can’t take it, and ejaculates that she was desperate.

The End.

First of all, this episode earns some immediately points from the mere fact that Dorothy told a St. Olaf story herself. I can only imagine how delighted this made Rose. I feel like the main plotline with Mary had some potential that was never fully realized, but I realize that time needed to be devoted to the tale of Blanche and Merrill, which I found to be pretty amusing. I liked this one, and don’t have a lot else to say, so I’m just going to get to the point and give Mary Has a Little Lamb a rating of 4 poofy hairdos out of 5!

Join us soon, when Drew will share his take on Mummy on the Orient Express, the next episode of Doctor Who, and I’ll be back in a few days with my recap of Great Expectations, the next episode of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

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royai week 2020 - day 1: letter

summary: a oneshot, loosely based on scenes from the batman film: the dark knight rises. a letter from a sweetheart doesn’t get passed on in order to protect one’s feelings, but at what cost?

rated: m | words: 4719 | warnings: graphic depictions of violence

read on ao3

“Why didn’t I get that letter?” Roy asked, voice cold. It hurt to hear Roy speak to her in that way, but Riza stood by what she did.

“That woman had already broken your heart. I did it to protect you, as is my job. I won’t apologise for that,” she replied calmly.

“You had no right,” he growled, rounding on her.

“I had every right," Riza stated simply despite the fear prickling over her scalp and down her arms as she heard him talk to her in that way. Not once had he ever raised his voice or been angry at her. However, she was doing her job, as he'd requested. "You asked me to keep your best intentions at heart, which I did.”

“This was important. Solaris is dead, and you threw away my last connection to her? The last thing she left me?” His chest was heaving with his anger.

“This was before she passed,” Riza replied tactfully. “She hurt you, Sir,” she added but was cut off.

“You’re fired,” was his reply. There was no room for argument. His voice was dazed and hurt. He was hurt by what she'd done and by what could have been. What he could have known.

Riza’s lips pursed. He’d always been the emotional one of the two of them, using them to rule his decisions, however if that was what her employer decided, then that was that. She wanted to fight. She wanted to yell at him to stop being so dense and realise that she’d done it for his own good and had removed that letter from her possession before Solaris died. However, there would be no getting through to him in this state. She needed another way…

“Understood, Sir,” Riza confirmed, trying to keep her emotions out of her voice. Roy had already turned to walk up the stairs of his mansion as she spoke. Taking a deep breath, she turned away herself with every step feeling like a dagger in her chest, despite believing what she’d done had been right.

Many years ago, she'd mastered burying her feelings for him. This was not out of jealousy. Riza wasn't that kind of person. No, this was out of her sense of duty to him. Riza had been the one to hold him and comfort him when Solaris had ended their chance at a relationship in the first place, picking someone else over him. She'd dried his tears and done her best to get him back on his feet. Riza has watched him spiral into his pit of despair and had been unable to do anything to stop it.

She wouldn't let that woman ruin him once again. Especially now she was dead. Roy had already had his closure. There was no need to drag up old feelings. Riza just didn’t want him to spiral again at such a critical time.

Her hands were trembling as she packed her bags. If she was fired from his employment then she needed to go. Riza doubted Roy would want her sticking around. Gripping the fabric of the holdall tightly, she closed her eyes and evened out her breathing. Drawing on years of experience, she bottled it all up. Until she found somewhere to stay, that was when she could let go.

This life was all she'd ever known. Helping him make the world a better place, patching him up when he was hurt, picking him up when he was beaten down… She’d done it just a few days ago when he’d been stabbed in a fight.

Now it was gone.

Shoving the rest of her belongings in the holdall she zipped it shut with force. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her desk and hesitated before heading for the door.

That would be another way to get through to him…

Riza approached, picking up the pen and smoothing down the paper as the words solidified in her mind.

* * *

Roy stormed through his empty mansion angrily. Every door he burst through banged angrily against the wall behind it, but he didn't care. He was too hurt by Riza’s betrayal.

How dare she decide what he should and shouldn't know? Especially when it came to Solaris. He fucking deserved to know what she'd wanted to say to him in that letter. That was the last connection Roy had to her before she died, and Riza had just decided to toss it away?! To keep it from him?

He was so angry.

This emotion was foreign. He'd never felt anger towards Riza before. She was a genuinely good person, but this was pushing it too far. He felt betrayed.

Roy slammed his bedroom door closed.

* * *

The mansion was in darkness when he awoke. He’d only slept for a few hours. Pulling himself up from his bed, Roy’s feet hit the floor heavily. His shoulders were stiff as he rolled them, smarting slightly. The knife wound on his side that Riza had bandaged up a few days ago stretched as he did, and Roy grimaced. Standing, he made his way over to the window by his desk.

Then he paused.

There was an envelope on the table. No, two. Both addressed to him. He switched on a lamp hastily in his passing and reached for them. His hands shook when he saw a slightly battered and yellowed envelope with Solaris’ writing on it. Had Riza… kept it all along?

The other envelope was clean. Riza had wrote it, and there was a sticky note atop it.

Read me first. Please.

Roy was in half a mind to ignore her request, but now he'd calmed down, the more rational part reminded him that everything Riza Hawkeye did was for a reason. A familiar feeling of guilt crept up on him. And then there was confusion. Why was she leaving him a letter?

Roy,

Firstly, let me apologise for my actions. Understand that it was never out of malicious intent that I withheld that information from you. I'd already watched you drag yourself back from that pit she left you in. I didn't want to see my friend go through that again. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. Evidently not. I was stupid. Sorry.

Roy swallowed thickly as he read, an awful feeling of foreboding creeping over him.

Secondly, I wish to thank you for putting up with me all these years. You've given me more opportunities than you could ever know, and I will forever be in your debt. You showed me kindness when no one else would. I'm forever grateful. Too bad my actions will not allow me to repay you in the way you deserve to be repaid.

Know that I will always be one of your biggest supporters though and will do everything in my power to keep your image up. I know I'm not required to anymore, but something inside me will prevent me from ever stopping. I owe you so much. I can't stop now. Not when it matters most.

His heart rate began to pick up, his hands sweating as dread coiled in his stomach and a burn made itself known in his chest. The muscles in his neck tensed.

Lastly, I don't blame your decision. I think if I were in your shoes, I'd be angry too. However, what you wished to know is in the other letter. No, what is your right is in the other letter. I understand that now. I hope it gives you everything you wanted and pray that no more disappointment is waiting for you. You don’t deserve that after all you’ve gone through.

Again, apologies for my lack of understanding. My life didn't bless me with adept skills in social situations, thanks to my father. You know that better than anyone, and I suppose that's why I worked so well cooped up in that cave with my computers. I'm not trying to make excuses. I think at this point, I'm just thinking out loud, trying to get it down on paper so you can (hopefully) understand a little bit better.

Anyway, don't feel guilty. I brought this on myself after all. Do not hesitate to find a replacement for me. They'll probably do a much better job than me anyway. I wish you and them all the best.

Roy choked on his saliva. What was she talking about? No one can do as good a job as her. Oh god. What have I done?

Please be careful though, Roy. Don't wear yourself thin too much. And that wound on your side is still healing so make sure you get the bandages changed at least twice a day. Doctor Marcoh at the hospital has already agreed to come and check up on you since I won't be able to anymore. I phoned him before I left. He's an old friend and someone you can trust. I know it will probably be hard now, but you can trust me on that one.

Okay. Sorry for rambling.

I've left my rooms tidy so you don't need to worry about cleaning them. I did that before I left.

One final time, thank you for everything. From the bottom of my heart.

I'm sorry I failed you.

P.S. Your secret is safe with me. Even into hell.

Riza

The other letter was forgotten as Roy turned and ran from the room. The hallways seemed to go on forever as he ran, his blood pumping in his ears and his breaths loud in the silent rooms. The wound on his abdomen burned as he exerted himself. Please be careful though, Roy.

"Riza?" His call echoed through the house as he knocked on the door to her rooms. "Riza?!" His knock was louder. He let himself in, surprised to find the door was unlocked.

The place was bare.

The curtains were open, letting in the moonlight instead of being closed to block it out and allow the occupant the sleep. The bed was perfectly made - just like she always left it. The sheet was pristine, without a wrinkle on it. There were no clothes, no personal effects, nothing lying around to indicate the room was occupied.

She was gone.

* * *

"Hughes? I need your help."

"What for?" the police chief asked gruffly, sounding distracted. There was a shuffle of paper on the other side of the line. "I'm a little busy right now -"

"Riza's gone."

"Gone?" Hughes echoed, pulling the receiver away from his ear to yell at someone in his office.

"Hughes," Roy called to him to try and bring his attention back to the conversation.

"What?" His reply was irritable.

"Riza is gone."

There was a pause. "What did you do?" he asked harshly.

It was a fair question and something he'd always expect from Hughes. He'd always liked Riza and whenever the police chief had something to discuss with Roy, he always preferred to go through Riza than Roy himself.

"I fucked up." Roy's voice was hoarse.

"Too right you did if she left." Hughes sighed heavily. "Did she say where she was going?"

Roy shook his head despite being on the phone. "Uh, no. She didn't."

"Where would she -" Hughes cut himself off to yell again. "Look can I call you back? Or come over in an hour? We kind of have a situation here."

"Uh, yeah. Of course."

* * *

“Oh,” Solaris – no, she’d called herself Lust – cooed, her eyes smiling as they flicked in understanding between the two. “She loves him.”

Riza grit her teeth, readjusting her grip on the gun. One well-placed bullet would end this woman immediately and Riza was this close to firing. She and Wrath had already beaten Roy. There was no question they would kill her too, and it was her job to protect him. It had been for years and even though Roy had fired her, she still cared and held that obligation towards him. He had saved her life. It was time she returned the favour.

“So what if I do?” Riza asked coldly. “What does it matter to you?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roy’s head move on the floor, eyes moving to her face. Riza didn’t allow herself to look.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter to me, my dear,” Lust chuckled, straightening, the knives between her knuckles extending outwards with a flick of her wrist. “However, it has made good entertainment these last few months. It’ll be a shame to see this soap opera end.”

Wrath lunged, causing Riza to shift her gun towards him. Roy called out but Riza’s only focus was on her approaching target. However, their plan all along was to distract her and as Wrath stuttered to a stop as Riza shot him, Lust continued forward with a snarl, her freakishly long fingers piercing Riza’s abdomen. She gasped at the pain while Roy yelled behind her. The pressure disappeared and Riza felt wetness pour out of her stomach. Looking down Riza watched as a red stain slowly appeared. As if in slow motion, her hands rose to clutch the affected area as she crumpled to the floor.

There was the sound of a scuffle around her, but Riza couldn’t think. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. All she knew was searing pain and her hands were slick with her own blood. She tried to press them to it, but they slipped and slid from her body. Shock was setting in as her breaths became thick and fast, trying to collect as much oxygen in her lungs as possible.

“Riza?”

Roy’s face was above hers. Riza’s eyes struggled to focus on him, but eventually they did. There was blood on his face. Some were splashes but his cheek had also been sliced by one of Lust’s knives. One eye was swollen and red, and it hadn’t been before Riza fell.

“Get…” she protested feebly, pushing him away. “Get somewhere… safe.” She wouldn’t let him die. Not over her.

“It’s all right,” he reassured her as he resisted her weak shove. A hand ran from the crown of Riza’s head to her cheek. “I dealt with her. She’s gone.”

“G – gone?”

Roy nodded. The hand on her cheek cupped it, and distantly she felt pressure on her abdomen. Her hands had long since given up trying to press themselves to her wound, so was that Roy? Riza’s body was numbing too much for her to be able to think about it.

“They’re both down.”

“I’m sorry, I failed you,” she garbled, blood sputtering from her lips. She could feel herself slipping and she needed to tell him that. It would be a cruel fate for her to slip away now when she had so much to say. However, life was never fair, just like she’d been unfair to him over the whole Solaris situation. “And I couldn’t… let you face them… alone.”

It didn’t help the woman Roy had once loved, who they’d thought was dead, was actually alive and well and trying to kill him. Apparently it had been an undercover job from the start, and Riza didn’t take too kindly to the woman mocking Roy for not seeing it as she’d sneaked up to their standoff. Seeing him battered and on the ground, Riza had stepped up. If she could offer herself up for a distraction while Roy tried to recover, or at least try to buy him some time, she would. Riza had made a promise, no, a vow, that she’d watch his back years ago. It didn’t end with the termination of her employment. It was more personal than that.

“No,” Roy shook his head vigorously. “No, you didn’t fail me,” he reassured her, his voice rough as tears fell down his cheeks. “You saved me.”

Riza’s eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. No… There was so much more she wanted to say…

Roy was calling for her frantically, begging her to open her eyes. His grip on her cheeks were firm, his fingers digging into her neck in his desperation. It would have been painful if she weren’t already slipping away.

“Please don’t leave me.”

* * *

“How’s she doing?”

Roy started, not expecting Hughes to be beside him. He appeared from nowhere, offering Roy a sympathetic look and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, so Roy must have looked like a sorry sight in that chair.

“And, how are you doing?” Hughes prompted, sitting next to Roy.

“She’s not woken up yet,” Roy replied, straightening his spine. The hands that had been clasped in front of him while his elbows rested on his knees were let loose. His fingers cramped after being held together so tightly and for so long. Roy shook them loose.

“It will take time, the doctor said,” Hughes stated. Roy knew that. They’d said the same to him. “She lost a lot of blood.”

Roy swallowed thickly. He’d showered since the fight against Solaris – no, Lust – and the man called Wrath. However, he could still feel his hands slick with Riza’s blood.

How could you have been so dense? You risked it all for Solaris, and she was probably laughing at you behind your back.

Riza was right. She’d thought something had been off with her, had even told him, but Roy dismissed it. If only you’d listened. Then they wouldn’t be in this mess. Riza wouldn’t be fighting for her life in a hospital bed because he couldn’t think with his head.

“And you?” Hughes prompted. “I can’t help but notice you’ve avoided my question.”

“Fine,” he replied.

Hughes laughed. Actually laughed.

“If you say so, Mustang.” Hughes stood from the chair. “I came down to ID the bodies but wanted to check in first.” He paused, looking down at his old friend. “Make sure you eat, okay? Riza wouldn’t want you to waste away to nothing. You owe her that much, at least.”

“Sure,” Roy agreed. He could try and eat, but it didn’t mean it would stay down.

“She’ll be pissed to come back and find out the man she loves is a shell of himself.”

Roy’s head snapped up, noting the knowing look on Hughes’ face. “You knew, huh?”

“Yep. For a while. She was an expert of hiding it, which I admired. Didn’t mean I liked it though,” Hughes frowned. “Why do you think she stayed after all the shit went down every time? She’s very duty-driven and professional, perhaps to a fault, but she had a personal stake in you too.”

It was true… She should have left years ago but had stayed. And then all that shit with Solaris… Damn. Roy rubbed his face with his hands. That couldn’t have been easy for her. The words from her letter twisted the knife deeper into Roy’s heart. He thought there might have been something… But she’d denied it whenever anyone broached it. Always the professional, Riza was.

“Did you know?” Hughes asked, curious.

Roy shook his head. “Not… Not really. Then Solaris came along –” The name left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I get it,” Hughes stated softly. “You always were blind to what was around you, so that doesn’t surprise me,” he added, voice teasing and light. Glancing up, Roy saw a sympathetic smile on his face.

Roy’s stomach tensed. Lust had said Riza loved him and Riza hadn’t denied it.

So what if I do?

“We had time… But she denied it, then Solaris came along –” Roy tried to make sense of the revelations and thoughts rushing around inside his head. It was a poor excuse, but it was what he’d told himself for years. It was pathetic, like him.

“Tell her,” Hughes prompted. “It will make her day, especially after getting stabbed.”

His old friend walked away, leaving Roy to watch his departure.

If only it were that easy. He’d lashed out and fired her. She’d left. She probably wanted nothing more to do with him.

But she did find you, the voice in his head argued. She did fight for you and did distract them while you were down.

Roy rubbed his face with his hands again. Sitting back in the chair in defeat, he vowed he wouldn’t move from here until she woke up. He didn’t think he could bring himself to.

* * *

Riza’s existence was a dull throbbing pain when she awoke. She twitched her fingers and toes, finding them all there and working as they should. Nothing was missing. Next, she moved her hands and feet, but even that felt like an effort. One twitch of her whole foot made her stomach throb, so she opted against that for the moment. Blinking her eyes open, she found herself in a hospital room.

She was alive, at least.

The door opened and Riza’s eyes moved slowly towards it. It was like her body was moving in slow motion, still struggling to wake up. Roy walked through the door, not fully paying attention. His eyes were on the floor at first, then automatically moved to her face. He froze. The bag of crisps in his hands fell to the floor, forgotten.

Riza took in the sight of him. There was a cut on his cheek which had healed. There were some stitches in the wound, but it looked healthy and pink. One eye looked slightly bruised, but wasn’t swollen like she remembered it being –

Everything came rushing back at once.

Blood. So much blood. Her hands sliding in it as it leaked from her body. Roy crying over her, shouting her name, begging her to stay with him. And pain. There had been so much pain. In her chest and in her stomach. Her heart had burned as she walked away from Roy and into an unknown future. As she crept up to overhear Lust and Wrath mocking Roy after beating him down. She’d stepped in to try and stop it.

Riza’s heart rate soared as she remembered, her breaths coming thick and fast.

“Riza?” he called to her. He’d rounded the bed quickly and knelt by her side.

She felt like she couldn’t get enough air. She’d almost died –

“You’re all right,” Roy coached. One of his hands was gripping hers tightly, but she took a second to realise there was pressure on it. “You’re safe. You’re in hospital.”

Her eyes flicked to his, noting the concern on his face. There was none of that in his tone, just reassurance. It helped calm her down and bring her back to the present.

She’d almost died.

“I’m alive…” she whispered, more in reassurance to herself.

Roy nodded. “You’re alive,” he repeated firmly. “You’re going to be all right. The wound has been treated and its anticipated you’ll make a full recovery. You lost a lot of blood,” he added. “But you’re on the mend.”

There was no more talking as Riza calmed her breathing. She hated to lose it like that, but the impending feeling of doom that had consumed her as she slipped away on the tarmac of the road had come careening back into her life alongside her memories of what had happened.

All throughout it, Roy stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’m okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wary of hurting her abdomen further by inflating her lungs too much. Her heart rate had finally slowed enough that it felt like she was no longer panicking.

Roy squeezed her hand tightly. Then, he bent his head, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand as Riza stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Good,” Roy breathed. He stared at her hand as his expression became more forlorn. “I’m so sorry about how I acted. I’m… I’m sorry –” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Riza,” he admitted. His eyes were wide and wet, meeting her head on. “And I was too blind to see it until you were lying on the ground, dying.”

“What…?” Her head was spinning, still trying to catch up with her body finally waking up and with what he was saying.

“I’m so sorry,” he warbled. His body heaved with his breath.

Riza squeezed his hand. The world had finally stopped spinning after that revelation. “It’s all right,” she hushed him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, straightening his spine. “Are you in pain?”

“A little –”

“I’ll get the nurse –” he mumbled hurriedly, already beginning to rise from his knees.

“Wait,” Riza commanded. It worked because he stopped long enough to look back at her. He was paused mid motion, one knee bent ready to stand while the other knee was still on the floor. “Roy, I’m all right just now. Calm down,” she soothed.

It took a moment, but his body relaxed, and his shoulders sagged.

“Come here,” she beckoned.

He did, right away. He knelt by her side again. Tentatively his hand slipped into hers and Riza responded with her own tight grip.

“I’m okay, and it’s okay,” she told him. He’d obviously been worrying himself about her condition, but Riza wasn’t sure why –

I love you, Riza and I was too blind to see it until you were lying on the ground, dying.

Did… Did she dare dream…?

No. No, that was ridiculous –

“I love you, Riza,” he murmured.

“Wh – What?”

“You heard me,” he challenged softly. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to realise.”

So, he finally realised, huh? It hurt to think that he’d realised this when she’d been close to her deathbed.

“That doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, trying to reassure him. Try to ease Roy of the guilt she saw so plainly on his face.

“It does. I… I went through all of that with Solaris and you had to go through it too. You picked me back up again.” He swallowed. “That must have been hard. I… I always thought there might be something but…”

“I was always the professional,” she replied with a wry smile. A cough left her to try and clear her dry throat. “Maes used to grill me about that all the time.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It wasn’t your job to think about me. Your personal relationships are your own. It’s none of my business.”

“Hughes said you’d known… about your feelings…” Roy swallowed. “For a while.”

Riza shrugged. “I dealt with it. My goal was to make sure you were all right and back up on your feet.”

“You’re the only one with that power.”

Riza scoffed.

“I mean it,” he replied earnestly. “I – I missed you,” he admitted. “So much. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone, and it was by my own doing.”

“What matters is you’re here now.” And that was the truth. She didn’t know what to expect if she ever awoke, but it was an instant comfort to see him here, by her side.

Slowly, Roy inched forwards. He pressed his lips gently against Riza’s, kissing her softly. Roy’s fingers caressed the back of her neck as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. A whimper broke from her throat as her eyes fluttered closed. His touch and his kiss were so tender and loving.

Everything she’d locked up inside of her and buried deep was battering against her chest, desperate to be free, but she held it at bay for now. She would live in the moment and enjoy the love and care Roy was showing her. Riza had always managed to bury her feelings at will, but she knew there would be no stopping that in the future. Not when everything she’d ever wanted was laid out in front of her.

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