They have killed you for you. They will kill for you again. It doesn't matter if you wish it to them or not. You staying by their aside forever unharmed by this disgusting world is all that truly matters to them. Your hands staying blood free is their selfish desire.
They have killed for you aginst your wishes. They know that this will break your heart for some time, but it is was the answer to your safety. This act will stop the universe from forcing your hands to kill. The mental and emotional toll of causing death will be bared by them, never you.
Requests are open?! Heck yes! I saw you write for fullmetal alchemist and wondered if you could do a one-shot Riza Hawkeye x Reader (they/them) with the both of them being deployed to the Ishval Civil War. At some point during the battle, she loses them from her sight and never sees them again, even after the battle ends. A few years later, they meet again when they are pursuing Scar but stumble upon her. Hope you'll have fun writing this! Love your writing ❤️ take care
When the Dust Settled
Riza Hawkeye x They/Them Reader
A/N: So happy to be doing an FMA request. I do realize now that I’m reading through the request again, I misread who was looking for Scar and who was getting stumbled upon and I think that changed the whole plot of the fic. Hope you still enjoy it! Word Count: 3,458
“Hawkeye… Hawkeye, hey.”
Riza didn’t blink, but she did come to from her hyper-focused fog.
“Yeah?”
“I got your lunch. Put the rifle down and sit up, relax for a few minutes. You’ve been on watch for hours.”
Riza slowly clicked the safety on and lowered her rifle. With a bit of a wince, she sat up, making sure her body was covered by the raised wall of the building they were occupying. She hadn’t realized how stiff she was until just then. She finally looked up at the soldier sitting cross-legged in front of her and managed a tired smile. (Y/n) gave her one of their own and wiggled the two brown paper sacks in their hands before passing one off to her.
They had often eaten their meals together since this godless war began. It was one of the only moments from day to day life that almost made them feel like they were normal people. Well, as long as they ignored the blaring heat of Ishval, the ever present smell of blood, and occasional gun fire in the distance. The ever-present grit of sand.
“What are you gonna do after the war, Riza?” (Y/n) asked after they had gotten through about half of their rationed meal.
“I don’t know,” Riza answered after taking a few sips of warm water, “It’s hard to imagine this war will ever end. How about you? You must have a plan.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” They grinned and Riza rolled her eyes.
“Let’s hear it then.” She smiled, resting her chin against her fist.
“I haven’t worked all the finer details out yet, but I’m gonna help people. I’m gonna take my pay at the end of this and make something that can help struggling people for years to come. Maybe a public garden or a library with a bunch of programs and resources, a school or something like that,” their smile dimmed, “Something that creates instead of destroys.”
Riza straightened out her leg to tap her boot against their’s, “Well, I think that’s a really nice idea. I’m sure you’ll go far.”
“Thanks,” they gave Riza an appreciative look, “and if you don’t ever figure out where you wanna be after this. I could always use your sharp eyes and a helping hand.”
Riza felt her heart swell, “That sounds—“
BOOM!
The building shook and quickly began to crumble below them before another deafening explosion went off. The roof began to collapse in on itself as the concrete crumbled away into the smoke and flames.
“Shit! What’s going on?!” (Y/n) pitched forward and linked an arm over the lip of the wall, holding up Riza with the other as she scrambled to do the same.
They watched in horror as the middle of the roof caved and rubble slid and crunched as the foundation failed. Their legs were suddenly dangling in open air as the building continued to collapse.
Riza’s grip began to slip. Looking down at the billowing smoke and flame, she wondered if this would be her end, but (Y/n) caught her by the wrist before she could fall into the crevice, she looked up to (Y/n)’s strained face and the pale blue sky with billowing smoke like clouds.
“Don’t let go!” (Y/n) yelled over the screams, explosions and gun fire. “Hold on, I’ll swing you up!”
“(Y/n), you can’t.” Riza’s voice was strained, “You’re slipping.”
“Come on,” they put on a smile that looked more like a grimace, “don’t give up on me!”
Riza flung her other arm up to grasp (Y/n)’s and they braced themself, grunting with the exertion of working up a swinging motion. With one last mighty heave, Riza was flung up and over the sinking wall, more like a crumbling concrete floor at this point.
“Quick, grab my hand!” Riza reached out to take (Y/n)’s hand again and bring them up over the top of the wall as well, but just as their fingers brushed, the edge of the wall (Y/n) had been clinging to broke away and (Y/n) slipped through Riza’s fingers.
Riza’s scream was lost over chaos and she watched helplessly as (Y/n) tumbled into the giant fissure that had split the building. They had fallen out of sight in an instant.
Riza felt the building buckle again, trying not to think about the floors below being crushed with more and more weight… a particularly bad jolt occurred, forcing the caved roof to fall several more floors. Riza smacked her head hard against the concrete, falling unconscious as the smoke and sand billowed around her.
***
When Riza opened her eyes, she found herself in a medical tent. The groans and whimpers the soldiers could be heard all around her.
“Hawkeye, are you lucid?”
Her eyes flickered to the side, finding Roy Mustang mirroring the war-hardened eyes she possessed right back at her.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. You got a nasty head wound, some cuts and bruises, but the doctor says you’ll be okay. You were lucky you were on the roof.”
“The roof… (Y/n),” Riza attempted to sit up, but Roy kept her down, “(Y/n) fell, are they alright? Please, you have to tell me!”
Roy gave Riza a sorrowful look, “Haven’t found them yet. They’re still pulling soldiers from the wreckage, but the way the building collapsed, there’s no way to scour the whole site without jeopardizing more lives. I’m sorry, but it’s not looking good either way.”
“I can’t believe the Ishvalans would go this far…”
Roy sighed mournfully, “It wasn’t them.”
“What...?”
“It was friendly fire. Apparently the news that the building had been seized hadn’t reached the platoon responsible. It’s all a mess.”
Riza closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing her heart not to break, “I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Hawkeye,” Roy stood from his seat when he saw Hughes wave him over from the front of the tent, “I really am.”
“Me too.” Riza murmured as he walked away. She closed her eyes again, willing the burning sensation to go away.
In the end, (Y/n)’s body had been declared unrecoverable, and a few months later, the war had ended. Riza stood in front of the wreckage as soldiers were loaded into those heavy tactical vehicles back to Central, taking one last look at the final resting place they would forever be entombed within. It just wasn’t fair.
“They don’t belong here.” Riza had whispered.
“I don’t think any of us did.” Roy responded. “The last vehicle is loading.”
Riza nodded, but before she joined Roy and the convoy, she crouched in front of the rubble and placed the desert blossom she had found atop the hot stone. She then got up and left, not once looking back because it would simply be much too painful.
***
Four Years Later
“Ow!” (Y/n) exclaimed, “It wouldn’t kill you to be little more gentle, or at least give a warning!”
“Quit crying, in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a cushy Central City hospital.” The doctor grunted, snapping the last connector in place. “Your own fault for picking fights.”
“Hey, those guys started it. Like I was gonna just stand there and let them harass Rick like that.”
“Still gotta be careful though, I’m no mechanic and I’m barely a doctor. That arm’ll be scrap before long if I have to be the one to keep trying to fix it.”
(Y/n) flexed their metal fingers experimentally and they seemed to respond well enough. “Hey, for now it’s perfect. Thanks old man.” They hopped off of the table and jogged to the open flap of the canvas tent.
“Where are you off to now? You should take it easy for a couple minutes at least, let your arm settle.”
“Nah, I have to help with the garden. The raccoons have been trying to tear everything up so we’re building a fence. Can’t let all that planting go to waste!” (Y/n) called over their shoulder before completely exiting the tent.
As fate would have it, (Y/n) had survived the building collapse during the Ishvalan War by the skin of their teeth. They had been crushed below the rubble for a number of days, fading in and out of consciousness. Their blips between sleeping and waking became longer and longer and they found themself wondering when they would awaken for the last time, but the next time they had opened their eyes, they found themself on a cot covered in dingy bandages and one less arm to their name, a name they had a hard time remembering at the moment.
Amnesia, the Ishvalan who had cut them free explained. Even to this day they had a difficult time remembering their past. All they knew for certain from their bloody and torn clothes was their name and that they had been an Amestrian soldier.
As they were slowly fed information about what had been going on around them, they could not understand why those good people had bothered to save them at all. Apparently they had snuck some food to some Ishvalan children on a few occasions and that had played a major role in the rescue efforts.
It had been suggested they find and rejoin their platoon to try to regain more of their memories, but they refused. How they had ever ended up fighting in this awful war, they couldn’t comprehend. They decided they were better off not knowing who they had been before the collapse and after they had healed enough to begin walking on their own, they did everything they could to give back to the Ishvalans who had saved their life.
Now four years after the Civil War, they found themself building up the slums of East City, trying to make life easier for all the refugees that lived there.
They had only just begun pounding stakes into the ground when the whispers began. Apparently the military was sniffing around. They were looking for the scarred Ishvalan that had been in their care days ago. He was long gone now, they wouldn’t find anything and would move on before long. They would all just needed to play nice until then.
“Excuse me.” An oddly familiar voice called.
“Yeah?” (Y/n) didn’t turn around, opting to finish staking the post instead of facing the soldier behind them.
“We are searching for an Ishvalan man of a tall, muscular build with a large, ‘x’ shaped scar across his face. He also has a tattoo that runs around his right arm. Have you seen anyone that fits that description?”
“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”
“He’s a very dangerous man. A murderer. You aren’t doing anyone any favors if you are hiding him.”
(Y/n) frowned, but did not waiver, instead they grabbed another post only for it to slip through their fingers when their prosthetic didn’t grip it properly.
“Here, I’ll get that for you.” They heard the soldier say.
She moved to crouch before them and when she reached for the post, she froze, a quiet gasp leaving her lips.
“…(Y/n)?”
They finally met the soldier’s eye. Something about her was very familiar, but their brain couldn’t quite grasp it, but it was clear to them that this blonde, brown-eyed soldier definitely knew them.
“You’re… it’s you, your alive… how?”
Riza didn’t think she should believe it at first, but she would know that face anywhere, it had haunted her nightmares and and pleasant dreams alike.
“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back?” She asked, getting more heated with each question, taking (Y/n) aback when they saw the raw emotion she displayed.
Riza reached out and grabbed the collar of their shirt, “Say something!”
“I don’t know you!” (Y/n) blurted, then back peddled, “I mean, you seem familiar, but I don’t remember you. I don’t remember a lot from before the collapse. Sorry.”
Riza started openly at (Y/n), her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes snapped down to the bare-bones automail arm that encased her quivering fist.
“Can you let go, please?”
It took all of Riza’s will power to do just that.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.
“Hey, uh, it’s okay.” (Y/n) felt compelled to comfort the woman, “This is kinda a lot to take in I’m sure.”
Riza nodded mutely, unable to take her eyes off of them in fear that they would disappear after a single blink. (Y/n) felt rather drawn to her as well, trying to understand just where she had fit into their life besides being comrades on the wrong side of the war.
“Lieutenant, find anything?”
Both (Y/n) and Riza startled slightly from the addition of a new voice. Riza reluctantly turned and (Y/n) peered around her shoulder to size-up the soldier walking towards them. He sparked something in their brain too.
“Colonel,” Riza had begun to speak,
“Well I’ll be damned.” Roy breathed, “Second Lieutenant (L/n), you have some explaining to do.”
(Y/n) did not appreciate his tone, “Hey, I just told your friend here that I don’t know you people, nor do I owe you anything. My memory may be foggy but I clearly remember the people who saved me, and none of them were either of you.”
Roy bristled and stepped forward, but Riza blocked him off, giving him a warning glare. She could tell the locals around them were getting antsy watching this prolonged interaction.
“If I had even the smallest inkling that you were alive, I would have worked my hands to the bone to remove every slab piece by piece by myself if I had to.” She murmured, the sentiment tugged at (Y/n)’s heart. They must have been very close back then.
“So,” she cleared her throat, “you haven’t seen who we’re looking for, alright then. We will be on our way then. However, may I ask you one last thing?”
(Y/n) gave a brief nod, curious, “Shoot.”
Riza paused briefly when (Y/n) answered her in such a familiar way. Once upon a time a reference to her sharp shooting skills. They probably hadn’t said it on purpose, but it gave Riza hope that perhaps one day they would remember her and all they had been through together.
“Can I talk to you again sometime? I’d like to know more about what happened, what you’ve been up to. Would that be okay?”
(Y/n) knew they didn’t owe the woman anything, but again, their mind was grasping at something they couldn’t quite reach and they felt like this woman held the key. “…I suppose. Maybe leave the uniform at home though, the military presence kind of stresses everyone out.”
“Of course.”
“Well then, I guess we’re done here.” Roy grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, Lieutenant. We still have work to do.”
“Right.” Riza was mildly annoyed with the Colonel, but he was right. She had to be professional, Scar was still out there. “I’ll come by in a few days, (Y/n).”
“I’ll be here, Hawkeye.”
“Riza, call me Riza.”
“Riza,” (Y/n) nodded to themself, “Okay Riza, see you later.”
Riza’s lips twitched into a small smile and then she followed Roy back to the car. When they got in, Roy sighed.
“Just be careful, Lieutenant. If the wrong people from the military figure out they survived and never returned to duty, they could be imprisoned for desertion. Not to mention they aren’t the same person you once knew. Don’t let nostalgia overpower your logic.”
“Are you lecturing me, Colonel?” Riza glared.
“Not at all.” Roy smirked. “Just some friendly advice.”
“With all due respect, sir. You can keep your advice to yourself unless asked.”
Roy shrugged and the car drove off.
***
“Easy, Hayate…” Riza cautioned the dog as he excitedly pulled against his leash to survey the area.
Riza felt strangely nervous coming back to visit (Y/n). Without her uniform to hide within, she had changed the outfit she was going to wear out at least three times. She usually didn’t care about such things, but this felt different. Even now she was wondering if she should have worn her hair up as usual instead of down. Why was she second guessing everything?
She noticed a pair of Ishvalan children peering over at Black Hayate with big, excited eyes and smiled.
“He’s friendly if you want to come pet him.”
The children shyly approached, giggling when Hayate licked their fingers. As they visited, Riza took the chance to look around. The East City Slums were an infamous eyesore if you asked the city officials, but honestly Riza had seen worse. The Ishvalan refugees were building from the ground up. Worse than that, building up from the devastation of war.
“Riza, hello.”
Riza turned, finding (Y/n) walking towards her. She found herself wondering how many visits it would take before the surprise would wear off.
“(Y/n), hello, thank you for seeing me.”
“No trouble. Rick, Rio, go help your grandpa for me, will you? He’s trying to rearrange the library again.”
“Ugh, okay…”
“Bye, Hayate!”
The boys ran off, leaving Riza and (Y/n) alone. Riza swallowed under the scrutiny of (Y/n)’s eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
“Hm? No, I don’t think so.” (Y/n) shook themself out of it, rubbing the back of their neck. “I just thought you had shorter hair for some reason.”
“I used to,” Riza lit up a bit, perhaps (Y/n) was starting to remember, “I wore it short when we knew each other. I met a girl a couple years ago with long hair and I thought it looked nice so I decided to try growing mine out.”
“Ah, well it does look really nice.” (Y/n) searched for anything more to add or talk about, but came up short. Such was the trouble with memory loss. Their well of stories wasn’t very deep. “Um, cute dog you have there.”
“Thank you.”
…
Yeah, this was awkward. But Riza managed to save it after a minute of weirdly loud silence.
“So you said you have a library here?”
“Surprising, huh?”
“I didn’t mean—“
“Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s definitely not anything amazing, but it’s a start. We’ve been working on building this place up. Of course, when you don’t have the funds, the projects go slow, but I think it makes these little victories all the more sweeter.”
Riza chuckled, earning an inquisitive look that was possibly bordering on being insulted.
“No, no, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just… at your core, you’re the same person after all. During the war, you often talked about how you were going to help people once it was over.”
“Huh.” (Y/n) acknowledged, because they really didn’t know what to say. It was kind of comforting, they supposed. At least they hadn’t been the complete monster they had feared they might have been. But still… why fight that war at all?
“Even your reasoning for joining the military was honorable. You always sent most of what you earned back home to your family.”
“…And what happened to them after everyone thought I was dead?” They asked softly, almost a whisper.
“They received compensation after it was determined you had been killed in action. I still check in on them every year, but they are doing well. They still feel your absence acutely, but they take it one day at a time.”
“I’m kind of awful, huh? I always wondered if I had a family, but I didn’t look very hard.”
“No, not at all. You went through a very traumatic event. You shouldn’t feel so bad. Besides… when you feel comfortable, if you’re up for it, I would be happy to take you to them. They would probably be better at helping you regain your memories than I would anyway.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t even know this much without you. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Riza managed a small smile. (Y/n) had always shut down any negative words she might have said in the past.
“Come on, the city has a nice park not too far from here. I’m sure your puppy will enjoy it. I’ll get you lunch too.“
“That sounds really nice, but I’ll be the one getting you lunch today and that’s final.”
“Okay, jeez,” (Y/n) chuckled, putting their hands out defensively, “I won’t fight you on it, put out that fire in your eyes… why is it so important to you?”
Riza’s smile broadened just a bit more, remembering those small moments of peace with brown paper bags and cloudless blue skies. She hoped (Y/n) would remember those moments too one day. Somehow, someway, everything would work out in the end. It was a rare moment of optimism for Riza, a feeling without any hard evidence to back it up, but she embraced the feeling.
Can I request Headcannons for Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang, with a S/o who is a Workaholic, and as a result they have a tendency to neglect their health to continue working (kinda like a coping mechanism for what goes on around them). No pressure though.
⤷notes: this was a nice little set of headcanons to write on the last day of school. :)
⤷warnings/tw: mentions of stress/over-exertion, very minor eating disorder, insomnia, minor language warning (one word)
R. Mustang
° If anyone were to know what it's like being under constant pressure and having absolutely no free time when it comes to work, it would be Roy.
° As if being a Colonel wasn't enough to bring a man grey hairs (to which he was highly self-conscious about), being a State Alchemist alongside that is far worse.
° All in all, Roy was very good at identifying when you needed a break, and he never stopped insisting you take some time for yourself to recuperate until you finally did.
° He's such a hypocrite like that too...
° If he notices you're losing energy and physical strength because you've sat at your desk, filling out papers and filing reports for too long, he'll insist that you two go on walks together.
° He'll make sure you always have enough light so that you don't strain your eyes, and he'll often eat with you just to ensure that you do eat something. He doesn't leave until you've at least eaten a roll of bread or eaten the meat and/or vegetables in the soup he brings you.
° Is also a really big haggler for sleep. He practically pulls you away from your desk every evening before slumping you over his shoulder until he plops you onto your bed.
° Even then, he sometimes has to force you to stay in bed and stay close to him, which is often a pain considering just how stubborn you can be and considering the fact that your hands and feet always seem to be ice cold by nightfall.
° He makes sure to keep a close eye on you. The last thing he would want would be for you to pass out on him. Not to mention, he'd just feel absolutely useless if he let his teammate, and lover, overwork themselves under his eye.
R. Hawkeye
° Riza takes personal health very seriously. Especially yours. She's got a very keen sense of smell when it comes to sniffing out people's bullshit, so she's usually able to tell if people are just trying to get out of work, or if they really do need a break.
° That's how she could see you were suffering. That, and the fact that she hadn't seen you in the mess hall for about three days straight now, and because the dark bags under your eyes only seem to be getting darker.
° She won't force you to stop what you're doing and join her and the rest of your team in the mess hall. Instead, she'll make you her own personal soup recipe, and bring it to you herself.
° Like Roy, she'll sit down to eat with you to make sure you're still getting your nutrients, and she typically will make you finish the meal.
° Riza's got quite a lot of experience in treating wounds and coming up with remedies for illnesses, but she also knows that the best kind of medicine is sleep. Just about every night since you've started working this hard, she'll bring a sleeping bag into your office to sleep with you, or next to you while you work.
° She'll start offering to take shifts with you, filling out what she can for you while you sleep in her spot. It was the best way she figured you'd be willing to sleep, and that you'd be able to sleep since you'd know your work was still getting done.
° She's not usually too affectionate, but behind closed doors, you'll suddenly start finding her fingers running through your hair before her hands drop to message your aching shoulders from being bent over your desk all day long.
° Riza's a very hard worker herself, so she knows how futile it is to actually try and pull you away from your work, but she will do everything in her power to ensure that you're taken care of, well-fed and well-rested, and warm until you finish.
If you don’t mind, may I request headcanons for Riza Hawkeye with a Soldier!Fem!S/o who used to be a outlaw back in the old west please! Basically she’s from the U.S (bear with me hear) and used to be a outlaw, until she got caught by authorities. But instead of getting hanged she was given the option to became a soldier in Amestris, as a “second chance” (which she agreed too). She’s also good with guns but mostly with lever action rifles, revolvers, and shotguns!
Hi anon!! It’s Yasu ^^ it was a challenge making your request cause it’s the first time ever I write for a female character lmao- I hope you’ll like these heacanons!!
Riza Hawkeye x fem!soldier!reader headcanons
Requested by: Anon
TW: none
Writer: Yasu
Word count: 637
Riza probably heard of you for the first time through Hughes.
He was working on your case, as you had being causing chaos all around Central, and he kept complaining to Mustang about how hard it was to find you.
She was getting annoyed by the constant pestering and Mustang pleading face didn’t help, so she took the phone, calmly but firmly explained that he couldn’t keep calling for unimportant matters (everyone knew he’d call back tho) and hang up.
The weeks that followed, she caught a glimpse of your face in the newspapers, the titles affirming that you had been successfully arrested.
She had congratulated Hughes on his case but he surprised her by saying that he got you the chance to work under him instead of going straight to jail. He said that you had too much talent to let it all go to waste and that you really weren’t a bad person after all.
You two met each other for the first time once the team Mustang got transferred to the Central.
Riza noted to herself that you were prettier in reality than in pictures and that Hughes was right: you weren’t a bad person.
Your first real conversation was at the military shooting range.
“Your aim is excellent, I’m speechless,” you said one time with an astonished face after she had shot multiple times in the middle of a paper target.
“Thank you. I saw that you weren’t bad neither.” She gave you a small smile.
That’s basically how you became friends before starting to develop feelings.
As you were interested in guns, you and Riza spend a lot of time exchanging tips.
Both of you secretly knew that it was more of an excuse to spend time together.
She ask you about your life as an outlaw once and you tell her all about your adventures and motivations. You asked her about Ishval...
She also told you everything. You could see the guilt in her eyes.
You couldn’t tell her it wasn’t her fault and you couldn’t particularly help. So you just put your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand lovingly.
She very much appreciated your gesture and it basically became your thing to comfort each other by squeezing hands.
Riza asked you on a date once and understood why Hughes always feels the need to gushes about his wife: you were only in casual attire yet she found you so spectacularly beautiful. Her heart skipped multiple beats during this date and so did yours.
You became official very quickly, but needed to hide it as it is forbidden to frequent another soldier.
Mustang knew, of course. He teased a lot Riza about it and while he might irk her a lot, whenever one of you nearly got caught, he was always there to back you up and deny everything.
“What do you mean you saw (L/N) and Hawkeye being a little too close, as you may say? You’re being illogical, soldiers can’t date in the military. Perhaps you should slow down on the coffee.”
You spend a lot of nights together just talking. She’d wrap her arms around your waist and smile against your skin.
She sometimes feels as if you’d be better off without her. Survivor guilt is hard to fight but she wants to protect you so she always get over these intrusive thoughts pretty quickly.
She’d protect you no matter what and you’d do the same.
“You don’t need to act so strong all the time” you said one time. “I can be strong when you need to be weak.”
"Still, I can't allow myself to be weak too often.”
She chuckled at your seemingly deep in thought expression.
“Well, we'll figure something out, right? We always do.”
A/N - Let me know how it was peeps!! And if anyone has any question or wants to send in some hcs, you know where to find me!!
Word count - 2958
Warnings - This chapter has description of a battle, so it has a lot of blood and fire and burning and killing and stabbing and dead/dying demons in it. THIS HAS A LOT OF VIOLENCE IN IT.
the character Riza is from Men In Black International, I’ll put a pic in there for reference if any of y’all need help imagining ;)
|| ONE || TWO || THREE || FOUR || FIVE || SIX || SEVEN || EIGHT || NINE || TEN ||
ELEVEN - The Last Battle
In some dark corner of the harsh and unforgiving realm, hundreds of dimensions away from where Natasha has been sitting at your throne for a decade, you were fighting the last battle of this war; the last and perhaps the biggest battle. You had rounded up more than 200 rogue armies led by nine traitors and reduced them to nothing in the last 17 battles. This last one would lead you to the remaining three who had the largest armies and had decided to fight you from a single fort. Even though your soldiers were far outnumbered by theirs, not even half of how many you marched out with, you had your enemy right where you wanted them to be; all huddled up in one place, scared and unsure.
You were standing a few kilometers from the fortress, with your army beside you, ready to attack. You had been strategic with all your attacks, but your patience was running out now.
“One more fight,” you said as you turned around, all bloodied up from the previous battles, to face your army, “this fortress right here is the only thing keeping us from achieving our goal. Warriors!! One more fight!!”
A loud cheer, not even a bit less enthusiastic than the one before you went to war.
“This one!!” you took a pause, taking a good look of all that was left of your army, “This one’s for our fallen warriors!!”
Your loyal army erupted in roar louder than ever, one so loud that it would’ve stirred the entire mortal realm into irreversible havoc.
You would’ve given anything to obliterate your enemies that day you left your kingdom, and that statement held strong to this day. Over the last 31 years, when you saw more than half of your army die, you found yourself getting enraged more and more. You remembered every single one of them. Their dying faces flashed before your eyes before every battle, only for more faces to be added after it. At this very moment, you held the fury of every single one of them in you. You held on to that pain and this was the moment to unleash it.
The more than apparent difference in numbers never once scared you or your warriors. They would fight for you till the end of time and across the infinite borders of the universe. And you would do the exact same for them.
You turned back to the dark fortress and the sea of soldiers in front of it, but your eyes were locked on the three heavily guarded figures standing in a force-field protected chamber, hiding behind the soldiers they had so conveniently pushed into war. Well, their mistake.
You started walking alone towards the fortress, enjoying the confusion making itself home on their faces. Maybe they had forgotten who it was that they decided to revolt against. Your passiveness was perplexing every soul in front of you and before they could even move to attack you, you were engulfed in a blindingly intense fire. Its brightness reached every single corner of darkness and as far as one could see. It changed the color of the sky above you and charred the ground beneath. The fire paved a way for you to the door of the fortress, removing anyone who was in the way. The sea of soldiers parted. You continued walking, none of the soldiers around you made it even a little close to you. You only stopped once you were about ten steps from the huge metal door, turning your head to signal your army to attack.
The battleground was trembling as both the armies sprinted towards each other in an animalistic way. As destructive as it all was, it managed to bring a small smile to your face. You will finally return home after this. But the smile quickly changed to an unimpressed and irritated expression as a flaming arrow made its way past your cranium. The only effect it had on you was that it made your head jerk away a little, just a little. You slowly turned your head to the where the arrow came from, seeing some soldier shaking with fear, bearing a ridiculously weak bow in his hand. You gave him a bored look and took out the arrow like someone would pick out a splinter, the arrow turning to ash in your hand.
With a flick of your wrist, the door in front of you burned away like paper, setting fire to the stone surrounding it. You went through the puzzle-like hallways, not even having to lift a finger to slay who tried to stop you. The fact that they even thought of trying was hilarious to you. It didn’t take you long to find ones you were looking for, finally someone who was a match for you. Being overconfident in themselves, they came forward to fight you one by one. You had shaken up their morale quite a bit and the scene painted outside in the battleground gave them no confidence either. The first man, an ex-King, took a somewhat trembling step forward. You conjured a ragged blade and sent it flying through him and restraining his dead form to the wall behind, keeping your eyes trained on the woman in the middle. You and she had a….well, to mildly put it, you used to fuck. She was standing there, hands crossed, giving you an amused smirk.
The one next to her used to be a war-medic several thousand years ago. She was a healer, so this was a tricky one. To kill a healer you either rip out her heart or her brain, you didn’t recall what this one was. The twist was that you get only one shot, if you pick the wrong one, it’d result in the other option blowing up, with the intensity of a galactic explosion, right in your face. She swung her battle axe at you and you swiftly blocked it with two swords, pushed her back, and went to kick her legs. She saw it coming and stumbled back a few steps, but that was just a distraction as you got up and put a sword through her shoulder, making her drop the axe, and the other though her thigh, pinning her to the wall. You absolutely did not have any time to waste, so before she could even move past the pain and start healing you put your fiery hands through her sternum and cranium, quickly but carefully timed. Just as you reached past the bones and the connective tissues, you intensified the fire by a hundred times in a fraction of a second. It left both her brain and her heart charred up, her dead body still held tightly against the wall.
“You took your sweet time…,” the other woman, who was just standing back and enjoying the show this whole time, spoke up.
“You do know I’m going to kill you right?” you said as you turned back to her. The last woman standing was Riza. She was assigned to be right by your side whenever you were required to speak to the other rulers. The thing was, you really didn’t give a fuck about being decent. Stark was the first one to visit and greet you on becoming the Ruler, you insisted on giving him a tour, and long story short, he didn’t stay for dinner. And when you first met Danvers, you flirted with her the whole time, with no filter whatsoever. After the news reached Nick he convinced you into having Riza as that filter as the kingdom didn’t really need to end up on Danvers’ bad side.
“Want to do something else first?” she said with a smile you knew all too well. Needless to say, you two hooked up a lot at Royal Events and Affairs. She had left only around 5 years before you announced that you were going to war, and she left with a fuckton of information. She was the sole reason the traitors even had a chance, however small that might have been. If it wasn’t for her, you would’ve been home in a couple years and the war would’ve been nothing more than an insect extermination.
When she left, you were more than furious. You didn’t return to the palace for two whole months, trying to take out your rage on the souls you were punishing, only coming back when you were required at a Royal Council meeting. It was only fair that you fucked out your frustrations now, right?
“Why did you do it?” you asked, not showing any emotion, as you took a couple steps towards her, she did the same, leaving almost no space between you two.
“Got bored,” she said with a confident smirk and you could feel her breath on your lips. You let out a low chuckle. You lifted your hand as if to tuck her hair behind her ear, but you reached around to the back of her head and yanked her even closer, with an iron grip on her hair. Her third arm, the one on her back, gripped at your hand, and the other two digging their nails in your forearm. But you both knew she was no match for you when it came to strength.
“You are such a conniving bitch,” you spat out as you made her look you in the eyes. She smiled up at you and then trailed one of her hands across your collarbone, then down your torso to-
“Did you really fucking wear this to a battle?” she exclaimed at the welcome surprise.
“I knew you would be here. And I knew just how much of a slut you are,” the way her pupils dilated at that boosted your confidence. You put your other hand on her hip and pushed her into the huge marble table behind, all the while she was roughly palming you through you war leathers.
“You know, it’s been, what, 36 years? Why don’t fuck me real nice?” she stuck out her tongue and licked your bottom lip, sending heat down to your own belly. You released your grip on her hair, and tightened it against her throat instead. Her hands had now left your arm, which she had drawn blood from earlier, she just pulled you closer.
“Yeah, you like that?” you asked in a low voice and she nodded. Her body was pressed up against yours and she ground her hips to find some sort of relief. You took a step back, depriving her of all contact. You didn’t miss the little whine. You began to take of your leather vest as she worked her long dress. Its thin material was barely doing anything to cover her up. You didn’t bother to completely undress. You reached forward and spun her by her hips, bending her over the table.
Her dripping cunt was on full display and her thighs were soaked. You slapped her ass, making her moan. You repeated the action till both her cheeks were red. By then, she was so turned on that her juices dripped down her thighs, almost reaching her ankles. You spread her legs by your foot and then ran a finger through her folds. She pushed back against the touch, which made you pull back again.
“Are you going to fuck me or have you forgotten how to? How many years since I left?” she was trying to get under your skin. Well, trying and failing.
“Having three arms and perfect ass really makes you act out, huh?” you chuckled as you slapped her wet heat, making her scream out your name, “Keep your fucking hands on the table. Don’t be a goddamn brat, I don’t have the time or patience for that. Understood?” your orders were followed by a hurried nod.
“Are you still going to kill me after this?”
“Yes.”
“Then make me come harder than ever before,” with that you lined yourself up her hole, teasing a little, but bottoming out soon, without any warning. She let out a lewd sound, one you were sure that the entire battleground could hear, even the dead.
You held her by her hips and pulled her towards yourself with each snap of your own, thrusting into her at a fast pace already, reaching deep inside her, hitting her spot again and again. The base of the toy was putting a heavenly pressure against your clit, making you go even faster. She was in a frenzied state, not holding a single moan back.
You ran one hand up her back, goosebumps trailing her skin, you reached around her throat, which was almost touching the table with each thrust, she moaned at the new sensation.
“Fuck, you’re so pathetic,” you sharply said.
“Mmm,” with how good she was feeling, she could not even form coherent words.
“I should just leave you like this. Moaning and worked up,” you grip on her hip and her throat tightened as you were chasing your own orgasm.
“NO!! Mmm, f-u-u-u-u-ck,” you could tell she was close, she scratched up a fucking marble table, “don’t stop, you can do-“ whatever she was about to say got lost in a scream as you removed your hand from her hip and found her clit.
“Up,” even though she understood what you were telling her to do, it was not an easy task given how you were pounding into her. After watching her struggle a bit, you decided to help her by harshly pulling her against yourself by her throat. The hand at her back found it was to the back of your head, kneading her own breasts with the other two.
You found yourself moaning into her ear as you were close too, but hearing your voice on the top of everything pushed her over the edge. You did not slow down as you were chasing your own high, making her whimper with overstimulation. You came with a loud moan, making you bend over, on top of Riza. Now just grinding on the base in a post-orgasm haze, your grip loosened on her. You rested your forehead against the nape of her neck as you both panted. After composing yourself a little, you playfully bit her shoulder, smiling at the metallic taste when you pricked through her skin.
You stood back up, discarding the toy away, and dressing back up but not wearing the leather vest, which was your only ‘armour’. You glanced outside the window to see a bloodied field, only some of your warriors standing on their feet. The war was over. You picked up and threw her dress at her. She was still bent over the table, clearly blissed out.
“Now,” you commanded. You watched her as she slipped that excuse of a dress on.
“You know, I wouldn’t have minded going out naked,” her smile made it clear she had no regrets, about anything.
“I don’t give a fuck,” you said in a stern voice as you conjured a sword. She never even glanced at the blade.
Just as you took a step forward, she hurled the marble table you fucked her on, at you. She was no match for you, but she was still pretty strong. You easily got out of its way, sliding under it as it was still mid air. The table hit the wall with the Healer on it, breaking the wall, making all of it fall several feet down. You rolled and got back swinging your heavy sword towards Riza. This time you got her, your blade cutting up her ribs and slicing her heart in half. But at the same moment, you felt a sharp pain in your side too, under the left lung. She got you too, and from your own sword, the one that you put through the ex-King.
You let go of your sword, she fell to her knees, and then dropped on her right side, your sword still impaled in her. You broke the sword underneath your ribs, just leaving a little part of it on the outside. It was almost poking out through your back, so you didn’t remove it completely. Very few weapons could hurt you like this, your own being one of them. Of fucking course she knew this.
“Sneaky bitch.”
You walked out, searching for your General, clutching at your injured side. You met her at the main gate, most of it molten away.
“Your highness are you-“ you waved your hand to brush of her question.
“How many are left?” for the first time, your voice was tired, only increasing your General’s concern for you.
“A tenth of what we started with,” she said in a distressed voice, and you close your eyes, wincing, half in sadness and half in pain. Losing your warriors never came easy for either of you. But the war was over. It was finally over.
You put a hand on your General’s shoulder, “Thank you. This would not have been possible without you.” You received a small, but genuine smile in return.
You leaned back against a wall as the last few of your soldiers assembled forward. You had a wide, although bloody, smile on your face now, realizing that after fighting continuously for almost 32 years, you had finally won. You didn’t really have any words for this feeling, but you spoke up anyway.
“Let’s go home,” this time, the cheers and roars were replaced by the toughest warriors sharing a soft look.
You turned to your General, “There must be some food inside this fortress. Eat up, rest a little, we’ll seal this dimension and then march back in a few hours.”
Riza First Time Meeting Soldier s/o (HC’s + Scenario)
- Survival is key where you come from. No one stopped to offer help to those in need. So you had to take matters into your own hands. What started off as pick pocketing turned into bank robberies. The bounty on your head only increasing as you grew up.
- But your luck eventually ran out, the cops finally had you cornered in one of your hideouts. The sheriff had been hunting you down for years now, it seems this is the end of your little dance. Except it wasn’t. Instead of handcuffs, the sheriff pulled out a folder and handed it to you. He explained that he was friends with one of the big shots over in Central Amestris HQ.
- He offered you a clean slate. A do over. The only catch was becoming a dog of the military. Another pawn used by King Bradley. You rejected at first, saying you’d rather be executed than leashed like an animal. But when he cuffed you and put took you in the back of his car, you changed your mind.
- Walking through the practice ranges gave you major deja vu. Before your mom died she used to take you with her whenever she practiced. Strange how you use to use those skills against law enforcement, now your working for them.
Riza always went to the practice ranges on her days off for a few hours. She felt complete with a gun in her hand, the smell of gunpowder in her nose. She also enjoyed watching the nervous new recruits fumbling around, trying to impress their commanders.
She spotted a crowd that had gathered around one of the practice booths. Curiosity getting the better of her she walked over to see what all the commotion was about.
Laying on the ground, sniper in hand, was you. Apparently you were about to beat the record best highest accuracy, which was a title currently held by none other than Riza “Hawkeye”. It was your last shot, if you hit a bullseye you would claim the crown you always deserved. Show these stuck up wannabes who’s boss.
Out of the corner of your eye you spot someone. Long blonde hair, light brown eyes, wearing a tight black t-shirt. At first glance, you would think she were a model. But based on the holsters on her waist, you can tell she was a soldier.
You’re lack of focus makes you miss your shot. The crowd let out a mix of “ooo’s” and “aw’s” before dispersing. She looked back at you as you rolled over into a sitting position. Kneeling down next to you, she hands you a new scope.
“Here try this one instead,” she places the scope in your hand, “the hardest part of using a sniper is having a dirty scope.” You nodded slowly at her, almost entranced by her voice.
The blonde nodded back and stood up, walking towards the reloading station and you realized her sniper was missing a scope. She must of gave you hers when she thought yours was broken.
You wanted to call out to her, to thank her, ask her name, anything. But instead you watched as she disappeared in the crowd. You clicked the new scope into place and lined up your shot, hitting a perfect bullseye.
First day on the job and you already have a crush. What is this high school?
Imagine being the one to place the tattoo on Riza’s back at the whim of her father
tw: pain, fire, tattooing i guess
You are a friend of Hawkeye. Her raw talent to whatever she set her mind to, her gracious power in her stance as she holds her ground; it drew you in as the inevitable fall of the leaves as fall enters.
You wish you had her dedication, her motivation.
Her father had taken you in, your willingness to experiment on yourself and your surroundings a helpful trait for him to test his theories regarding alchemy. Burns and scars litter your body, but it is all for the better of knowledge. She was nice to you, distant and hostile at first, a fear of being replaced, of being useless to her beloved father.
He is a sick man, but it was for the better. Your hands are strong, your patience calm and steady. You are the perfect person to complete this undeniable task; to burn the alchemical circles on Riza’s back. She has her moments where she is as complacent as you, as docile and awaiting a new command, this is nothing to fear.
Jugs of water lay beside you, Riza on her stomach and blue sterile gloves covering your hands like a second skin. A half-empty cup sits in front of her, blond hair tied up in a loose bun. She is topless, but that doesn’t bother you. Her father sits on the other side of the room, hunched over a collection of books, finishing his last notes on the large parchment paper.
“Everything must be perfect,” he hisses to himself, “There must be no mistakes, Y/N, absolutely no imperfections.”
“Of course, Master Hawkeye,” you respond in kind, prepping yourself for the oncoming events. Riza tenses under your hands as they begin to rub the antiseptic on her back, removing any chances of bacteria entering the wounds and causing infection.
The parchment is unceremoniously slapped to your side, rolling to present the black and grey ink in large and small circles and the language you have yet to memorize. The diagram is drawn on what looks like a back, the kanji for ‘left shoulder’ and ‘right shoulder’ set in their respective places, and a description of what should be tattooed and what should be burnt into the flesh.
You sigh, multiple thoughts running through your mind.
“Will you be okay with this?” You ask to no one, yet expecting an answer.
“Anything for my father,” Riza’s voice is husky and low, a testament to her anxiety for this situation, “Anything for this knowledge.”
Berthold stops at the door, opening it slightly and not looking back, “Do not be loud, we must be considerate of the neighbors.” He closes the door silently.
There is already a leather belt in front of Riza, but she doesn’t seem interested in it.
“I will start off with a rough sketch of it, then proceed to the tattoo, then I will burn it all down. Remember, I was told to never stop unless you faint, or otherwise react unkindly to any step of the process.” The pencil is light in your hands and produces pale, rough black lines on her back.”I can explain the process to you, or talk about anything else or nothing at all at your wish. Just speak to me and I will comply.”
She breaths in, and nods. “Talk to me, about... about what you do when you are not here. When you are not doing duty.”
The pencil outline is finished, “I read, learn something new. Sometimes I go out and see the sun or the moon, admire the plants and shrubbery that surrounds my town.” You sterile her back once more, taking care to avoid smudging the pencilwork. The method you use to start the tattoo is unethical, and probably outdated but it is of which your master has given you.
“There is a pud a twenty-minute walk away from where I live, it’s quiet in the mornings and rowdy at nights. It’s usually where I meet new people, look them in the eyes and see what they have lived through. Drunkards are one of the most open people in the world, just as they are violent and ignorant.” This process is the slowest of the three, and you take care of the lines and the circles, the words and the intent you push through the ink.
Riza is quiet, breathing heavily and her head is tucked into the crook of her elbow, fists closed tight.
It becomes quiet as you concentrate, tongue between your teeth, eyes keen on the position of your hand.
“What are your neighbors like?” She asks, voice muffled from her position.
“They’re nice, I suppose. The whole neighborhood is. The ones closest to me are nice old ladies who spend their time inviting each other and half the block fo tea parties and showing off the better gardens. They make nice food, and I usually accept their offers when I’m not busy.”
“It must be nice knowing people who invite you to things like that.”
You hum, “I still remember when I wasn’t, though. It was rough those days. It still is, when I remember that these people aren't my friends, that if I didn't live where I do that they wouldn’t be my friends still. And I miss having friends my age, as well.”
It falls down into quietness again, and this time she doesn’t ask another question. You are sure she can feel your breath against her back, with how close your face is to it, but you are almost done with the damned tattoo. You don’t want to inflict such pain to her, you really don’t, but her father had promised more lessons on alchemy after, and if you did an excellent job you would get more than that.
“Drink up,” You say, shifting where you sat, offering her the clear jug of water while it is still clean, “You’ll need it.”
She accepts the filling of her cup, and heartedly drinks more of it than she did before as she sits and stretches.
All of the things that you will be needing is at your side, and you hold it to yourself to keep a solid face throughout the process. "This will be painful," you murmur hesitantly, albeit honestly.
"Get it over with." There is no debate in her voice, and you cave in like a home of cards. The leather belt is snug in her mouth and she resumes the same position with more tenseness.
You don’t hesitate, holding her to her word. The flammable material is applied, turning her pink flesh red and she begins to tremble. It’s all blurred, the pencil lines, the tattoo ink, it doesn’t matter as you start the fire and watch as she swallows her screams, thrash on the floor, and claw at her arms. She sobs, and you quietly watch the fire flicker out before she calms down. You keep her pressed on her stomach, quick to work at cleaning up the wound, stopping the blood from reaching the floor.
Almost everything was already cauterized, but the intricate piece of art weeps as if still in pain. The towels were once white, but now they are pink and red, and you can spot the beginnings of puss and other buildups.
“How are you?” You ask, even when you know she can’t hear you in her pain. “I have to wash the wounds some more, please be patient with me. The healing process will be long, it will be painful, but I will be here for you.”
Riza breaths in, and out, in an attempt to control herself.
“Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” You say again, but you know you say that for yourself.
"Does the idea of dying scare you? Is that why you are being so...out of it tonight?" Your voice cuts through the tension filling the kitchen.
Your lover had come hurt again. Their eyes drain of their spark of life. All evening, their replies had been short, blunt, and cold. When you try to comfort them, they shrug you away with sheer indifference.
"What?" They answer while refusing to look up from the wound on their forearm.
How long have they been tending that cut now? An hour? Two hours? The both of you had lost track. The snacks you made early have surely gone cold by now.
But you two should eat, right? That will help, right?
"Did you come close to dying today?" You try to keep your voice to steady. From experience, you know any temble in your voice will worry them. But oh, the clacking of the dishes in the snack tray displays your trembling hands for all.
"Let me help." They stand up and rush to your side. With a whisk of their hands, the tray is traded. They carry it to the kitchen table and set it down.
Then, a deep inhale cuts through every single whisper within your head.
"No, but we lost others." They keep their back turned to you. Their eyes glued to the sandwiches and cookies you made just for them.
"I was powerless. They looked like-" Before they could finish the sentence, you rush over to hug them from behind. You burry your face into their back, praying tears do not fall.
"I am right here. I am alive." Your voice cracks out.
And like that, they spin you aroubd to hold you tightly. With the energy they had left now gone, the two of you fall to the ground, tangled together. Neither of you are willing to let go of each other anytime soon.
"I am alive. You are alive. We are safe and sound, right here, right now." You repeat over and over again as their eyes fill with tears.
