Riza pulls out a surprising skill, and digs up a little more than she bargained for.
Snippet:
“Thanks for the scissors, Winry,” she said.
“I’m glad we got them sharp enough,” the girl said, reaching to take the tool from Riza.
“Are you still taking customers?” Mustang asked, before Riza had relinquished them.
Something in his voice stilled her, pulled back the memories she had been trying not to think of.
The last boy’s hair she had cut, after all, had been his.
Riza discovers the last thing her father did.
And so does Roy.
Snippet:
The bookcases lining the walls, though, were gone. Along with every book and piece of paper on them.
Paper.
Research.
Her mind finally connected the dots on the shocking destruction. He must have come in here one evening, while she slept, and quietly burned everything away. She didn’t think he had that much energy in him in the last days, but he had done it somehow. Not enough energy to struggle back from yet another edge of death, but enough energy to destroy his research. It was fitting, really.
A stolen moment under the weeping willow (maybe that should have been a sign) and years of silence.
And then— closure.
Snippet:
“What do you think about it?”
He came up beside her; she could feel his presence like he was a planet her body yearned to orbit.
She held herself straight, not letting his gravitational pull affect her.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
His hand touched hers, ripping her gaze from the creek to land on the point of contact with astonishment.
“It matters to me,” he said quietly, wrapping his fingers around hers, but just barely. Like he was cradling a bird and scared to crush it.
Roy and Hawkeye are on an island retreat for their undercover work, so they have to go to the beach SOMETIME. (Suffering ensues.)
Snippet:
Coming to an uncomfortable realization about his own affections while in the throes of planning the most important job of his entire life was — inconvenient, to say the least. Not to mention ethically dubious, considering that he employed Hawkeye, and this job involved them going undercover as an engaged couple. The lines were hopelessly blurred.
But blurred lines weren’t enough to keep him from feeling like a lecherous creep whenever he found his gaze trying to move to Hawkeye in her billowy linen cover-up.
He wasn’t a nasty lecherous creep, Roy reminded himself for the tenth time in as many minutes, moving his eyes firmly back to the ocean. The fact that he had to keep reminding himself of that fact was not very reassuring, but he tried not to think about that.
accretion [ə-ˈkrē-shən] noun:
An accidental deposit of “foreign” material that was not part of the painting process, f. ex. dried liquid residue, flyspecks, etc.
(from Stella Art Conservation, LLC)
Riza Hawkeye has worked as Security Director for private art authenticator Roy Mustang for eight years with little trouble. However, recently Mustang has taken on riskier and higher-stakes jobs, putting himself and his team in danger of exposure and harm. The objective of a new undercover job – authenticating an elusive ink drawing while undercover on a three-week island retreat – hits too close to home for Riza. Secrets carefully kept threaten to be brought to light, exacerbated by the closeness required while posing as a young engaged couple.
Hold on, they have to pose as an… engaged couple? For three weeks?!
I know, promo week for @royaibigbang 2024 is almost over and here I am with an actual promo post. Surprise! This story has been trying to escape my brain for years now, and I'm so grateful to the big bang for being the motivation I needed to get it into shape. I cannot WAIT to share it all with you on October 3 (SO SOON AHHHH).
Prepare yourselves for a romcom of royai proportions, featuring a modern-day AU, fake dating, forced proximity, slow burn, art nerdery, cameos from all your favorite (and perhaps least favorite) characters, idiots to lovers, heist vibes, and more feelings than you might initially expect.
I had the immense privilege of working with a team for this event, something that I've never done before. @aldrendaux was my wonderful beta, cheering me on and tidying up my mistakes every step of the way. (We've got Aldren to thank for the summary, too!) The story will also be featuring art by @areyousanta, @chewytran, @rizaposting, and @justanotherinterneruser. Sneak peeks of the art can be seen in Aldren's promo post here! Go scream at how gorgeous the pieces are!! (or maybe that will just be me, again, for the 400th time)
This fic was sooo much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as well! Click through for a sneak peek of royai at a dancing class on their couple's retreat below the cut.
EDIT: Accretion is now live on AO3!
If her heart rate accelerated, it was just the surprise. It wasn’t the fact that her fingers slid through the hair on the nape of his neck for a moment before she quickly moved them down to his collar. It wasn’t the fact that the press of his body against hers felt too intimate, and too familiar.
She was grateful for the fact that there was no time to linger on the sensations. Soon, Mustang was taking his first step, and Riza had to grip tighter to his hand and shoulder as she moved with him. She felt off-balance, pressed against him. Instead of supporting most of her own weight, she was now dependent on Mustang’s steps to be firm and guide her body along with his; it was a strange sensation for her. It was like clinging to the edge of a cliff face, trusting it not to drop her flat on her back.
Mustang, to his credit, stepped confidently, without wobbling. The added weight to his balance didn’t seem to throw him off at all, and she soon relaxed slightly against him and focused on keeping up with the music. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost forget who the cliff face she was clinging to for dear life was.
“I told you I would keep your feet,” he said, quietly.
The words made her look up at him automatically and —
His face was far too close. Too close and too soft, with that small smile and that sparkle in his eye, with the hair starting to fall across his forehead.
This look and the feel of him, strong against her wherever they touched, was continuing to make everything hopelessly confusing. She had clearly misinterpreted his actions the other night, but she still couldn’t seem to shake her own reactions to him, which was just embarrassing. She was thirty years old, not a hormone-ridden teenager, for Father’s sake.
She realized suddenly that she was just staring into Mustang’s eyes without speaking and felt her cheeks heat with mortification.
“Yes, well, the night is young,” she said, trying to sound normal and unsure whether or not she achieved it.
“I’ll convince you to trust me yet,” Mustang said, holding her gaze.
Havoc is a little too bored, and a little too persuasive.
Snippet:
Roy blinked several times, staring at the towering stack of paper on his desk. It was his ever-present companion. His mortal enemy. But also, by the rules of constant proximity, also sort of his friend?
No, that was the lack of sleep talking. And there was a lot of that to go around these days.
He might have just pulled himself out of a doze on his desk, wiping away a wet spot on the form he was completing that was definitely his own saliva. He took a drink of coffee, lukewarm and bracing, but sufficient to rid his mouth of the taste of sleep.
He looked at the stack once more.
It was definitely shorter. He hadn’t slept last night, but even he wouldn’t hallucinate anything as boring as a stack of paper being shorter.
