#Fmab fanfic

[manias-wordcount]

Roy Mustang with reader who struggles to accept love or affection in general? Like someone who may have got hurt in the past and now struggles to accept someone’s love even if they want it.

Thank you!

Beside Yourself (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆'𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗰! 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’ve been getting a lot of night shifts these past couple of months.

  It’s not every day, but it’s the same days. A neat little schedule at the very least. And for the most part, you don’t really mind. At some point, the hour turns and it’s only the quiet type that enter the library. The ones who know exactly which sections they’re going. The ones who don’t need your assistance. The ones who you only need to speak to just to let them know that it’s 10 minutes before lock-up. But lately…

  He’s been bringing you flowers at the end of your shift each day. Like clockwork. Never wrong. Never late. Never late. Like absolute clockwork.

  “Oh, um…T-thank you, Colonel Mustang,” You find yourself murmuring as always. Your eyes are downcasted as always as you accept them. Your fingers reaching out timidly, despite the sense of familiarity he now radiates. For a moment, your fingers tip brush against his, and still time you’re shivering and letting out a tiny gasp instead of pulling your hands away. The look on his face tells you it’s not intentional- because Colonel Mustang has been nothing but a complete gentleman towards you since the beginning- but you don’t miss how his smile turns just a little encouraging as you don’t immediately run away. “They’re…they’re very pretty.”

  “It’s Roy , sweetheart. You don’t need to use my rank with me. And of course,” He tells you gently, as if easing you into the compliment you know he was about to throw at you.  “I thought of you when I saw them. I figured the ones in your kitchen might be wilting by now with the cold coming in.”

You nod, heat rising to cheeks as you recall the moment you must have overshared to him while he was walking you to your apartment. You had a good day- you were excited. But you were also starting to talk too much. Share too much. Say things that you know people don’t really care to listen to. Including how the weather is making the African Daisies he brought you not too long ago die a little faster than anticipated.

  It should have felt good. It should have felt amazing . To be listened to. To have someone remember a spare detail you slipped out only a week prior. It does- it really, really does. But…

  You’re scared. 

  You just are. And no amount of flowers and walk homes is going to change that. Not for you, at least. Even if you so desperately want to. Even if you so desperately want it. Want him . But you’re scared. Just…way too scared.

  “Thank you…Mr. Roy,” You say again, trying your best to meet his eyes. But the look he gives you is a little too intense and almost too sweet for you to stand, so you advert your eyes very quickly once more and swallow down a nervous gulp. You don’t know what he sees in you. You really, really don’t. “We…we should get going. It’s…it’s getting rather late.”

“You already thanked me, sweetheart.” He reminds you with a chuckle, seeming very pleased that you used his first name like he had asked. It’s a chuckle that has your heart skipping a beat and your ears straining to hear one more time. And he’s nice about it- he always is. But instantly, you’re calling yourself names in your head and adjusting your grip on the long green flowers stems now safe in your hand, unbable to keep yourself still as the two of you start to walk down the street in the direction of your apartment. “But I’m always happy to hear when you enjoy my gifts.”

  You nod again, not trust your lips to form to the proper words and sounds in the proper order. 

  You’ve heard stories about him before you’ve officially met. The whole nation has, but you’ve heard stories about him- about the Flame Alchemist. And so you recognized him when he came into the library one night. You helped him find a couple of books and you told him that you had to lock up ten-minutes before closing. He made you so nervous. Knowing that a man with so much power and talent was sitting in a room with you and a lot of very flammable and very precious material was absolutely anxiety inducing. 

  But he waited for you outside the main door, and watched silently as you locked it behind you. He then asked if he could see again. And because you’re scared, but not too scared to know what it’s like to start to fall for a someone- you said yes.

  But then seeing you again turned into appearing at the end of your every night shift so he could walk you home. And that eventually turned into bringing your a couple of flowers wrapped up with a neat little ribbon every time he saw you. And now? He’s telling you to drop his rank and to call him by his first time. While occasionally slipping a hand around your waist when he wants to guide you somewhere he deems “ a bit safer for me to take you.”

  You coworkers took notice after a while. On the shift you weren’t alone, someone would always see him waiting just for you. Doting on you. Spoiling you. Some of them would gush and coo. Tell you. Others would tell you to be careful. That he’s a rabid flirt. That he’s a dangerous man. An uncaring one. Along with every insult under the sun.

But you’ve never seen it. He’s never showed it to you. Not once. Not even.

  Still, in your mind. You tell yourself that you have every right to be careful. That you have every right to scared. You’ve been hurt before. You’ve been burned before. You won’t let it happen again. You won’t. You won’t. You won’t. But…

  He falls in step with you tonight. He falls in step with you every night he walks you home. He peers at you light expression and he asks you about your day. And he pressesly gently when you’re slow to offer up anything that rubbed you the wrong way. He offers once again to look into the suspicious person who keeps showing up and leaving an hour before you close for the night. And he tells you that he doesn’t want you worrying your pretty little head about the news you hear regarding conflicts in other parts of the nation and in the back streets of Central.

  But he also asks if you still feel comfortable about the way he’s courting you. And he doesn’t say another word when you’re unable to hold his hand for very long due to all your fidgeting and the fear of sweaty palms driving him away. He just sees you to the front of your building and stands guard while you fish out your keys. He makes you promise that you’ll be careful on your walks to work. And that you’ll call him first if you ever need to get into contact with the State Military. 

  You just nod your head and fiddle with the flowers and keep your eyes on his polished uniform boots. He never once shows annoyance at your inability to speak to him normally. Never once falters with his little shows of affection. Never once treats you as anything less than a person worthy of all things soft and sweet. But you just can’t fully believe it. You just can’t fully believe that he isn’t here to one day leave you behind. To hurt you as you’ve been hurt before. To make you fall in love only to break your heart as it has been broken before. You just can’t fully believe it. You can’t fully believe him no matter how hard you try. No matter how hard you want to. You just can’t. You just can’t.

  “You have a good night, sweetheart.”

  Because you’re just not ready yet. You’re just not ready yet. But one day…

  “You too…Roy.”

  You hope to be.

[poppy-pelican]

I miss my Royai Era, and I may need to dust off some of my WIPs.

[lillyanne4writes]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Greed & Ling Yao, Greed/Ling Yao Characters: Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist), Ling Yao Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Alive Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist), Pre-Slash, written with platonic greedling in mind but can be read as romantic, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Mentions of Genocide, late-night existential conversations, Identity Issues, borderline body dysphoria, (look this version of greed never knew his original self he only ever lived in ling., you can't tell me it wouldn't be a little weird for him if they separated), no beta we die like the people of xerxes, greedxlingweek2024, author abuses a mirror metaphor Summary:

'Greed sighed and dropped his hand into the water, sending ripples through that alien reflection. "I don't know. I don't remember my first life." He considered for a moment. "Well, I remember some stuff. I was born knowing how to move and talk and all that—obviously," he added snarkily. "Obviously," Ling agreed. "But I don't know if that came from the old me, or him. Or you," he acknowledged.'

Greed and Ling have a late-night heart-to-heart on their way to Xing after the events of canon.

This happens in an unspecified Greed lives AU. I might write it some day, but all you need to know for now is that Greed is in his original body and no longer has a philosopher's stone.

[schrijverr]

The Strange Arrival of Colonel Curtis 3

Chapter 3 out of 5

Ed gets send to do an undercover mission where he is pretending to be Colonel Curtis to catch a terrorist ring. In doing so, he has to be suspicious and get involved with some shady people, which is noticed by his unit.

On AO3.

Ships: None

Warnings: None

~~~~

Chapter 3: The Mission

Mike doesn’t know what to do with himself when he leaves Colonel Curtis’s office. The others can clearly see something went down, but Mike can’t just tell them what happened just mere seconds ago. The Colonel said he could tell someone he trusted, but that likely didn’t mean the entire unit.

Besides, Mike feels vaguely disgusted with himself that he agreed to this in the first place. Spying on a Lieutenant General! It’s crazy, you can get court martial-ed for that.

He doesn’t know what to do.

But it’s kind of too late to back out, he guesses. He’s never been put in such a position before, never such a big rock and such a hard place at least. Colonel Curtis is his direct CO, but Lieutenant General Becker is the commander of West City.

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, getting his attention. “You okay?” Her brows are furrowed in concern and Mike is suddenly reminded of all the mean pranks she pulled on people that upset anyone in their unit. How protective she can be.

Mike really appreciates the sentiment and it actually gets him to smile, but he can’t say anything. Not yet. Not until he figures out what he’s going to do with the ‘orders�� from the Colonel. So, the smile he managed gets strained as he says: “I’m fine.”

Rachel obviously doesn’t believe him and by the looks of the others, neither do they. However, Jack, their First Lieutenant, looks back to the door to Colonel Curtis’s office, then shakes his head, which is enough to discourage anyone else from asking. Mike is very grateful to Jack in that moment.

For the rest of the day, Mike keeps his head down and keeps quiet. He isn’t thinking it all through yet, not getting beyond panicked what ifs without conclusions. Fortunately, the others take his subdued attitude as a sign to leave him alone and he slips out of the office before anyone can corner him at the end of the day. He isn’t telling anyone anything until he has ordered his own thoughts and comes up with a plan.

At home he locks the door behind him, relief washing over him at the click, before he sinks to the floor.

Okay, breathe Mike, he tells himself, not wanting despair to overtake him. Just breathe and think through it all rationally. You can do rationally. Just start with the facts.

1.) Colonel Curtis is aware of his gossiping habit, this in itself isn’t that weird, the whole office is aware of his gossiping habit. However, Colonel Curtis has also figured out that it doubles as an intelligence network.

2.) Not only is the Colonel aware of the network, but he has asked Mike to use it to gather intell for Colonel Curtis specifically.

3.) The intell Colonel Curtis wants him to gather is going to be off books, which also isn’t that weird, because there is little point in intelligence if everyone knows you have it. Then you loose it as leverage or as surprise advantage.

4.) Colonel Curtis plans to use the intell Mike has to gather to remove the Lieutenant General from his position so that he can climb the ranks himself.

At first, Mike tries to convince himself it isn’t all that bad. After all, Colonel Freedman sometimes asked him to find out things using his network, this isn’t so different, right? But, a voice that sounds like a conscience will say, Colonel Freedman never wanted to use the information to remove a higher up, but as intell for missions or to ensure people were okay.

However, his self preservation argues, if Colonel Curtis is willing to sell out a higher up with dirt, what other backstabbing is he willing to do? And what will that mean for Mike if he doesn’t follow orders, like he has agreed to?

Fuck, this is really bad. Mike should have run when he still could, should have denied the gossip more, should have done anything but salute and roll over. Alas, Mike is a soldier and that’s all he really knows how to do.

… Well, not entirely. It’s not like someone ever ordered him to stay up to date with everything that happens on base or with the brass, Mike just did that. He can act on his own. He doesn’t have to sit there and take it.

Colonel Curtis said that he can involve someone he trusts, so Mike can just tell someone and get back up. He’ll need it for the vague outline of a plan that is forming, though it’s not so much a plan as a very bad idea.

Because wiggling out from under the agreement with Colonel Curtis seems stupid, however, blindly doing his bidding also seems stupid. So, Mike will take the middle road; he is going to get the information Colonel Curtis wants, but he’s also going to dig up all he can find on Colonel Curtis, play the game right back at him if necessary.

Now he just needs to figure out who to trust with it.

Linda is the smartest person he knows. As a Second Lieutenant she’s higher up the chain than him, so he’ll be free to defer to her a bit, and as their tactician she knows how to make a plan that won’t fail.

But he doesn’t know Linda as well as some others. At least, not in a way that makes him trust her with this. She keeps to herself and seems to have a disdain for gossip. She wouldn’t want to get in on this and is more likely to run to Lieutenant General Becker.

No, not Linda. Rachel or Jack are better candidates.

Rachel loves gossip and speculation like he does and while she is a joker from time to time, he knows he can count on her to have his back when necessary.

Jack doesn’t like gossip. On the surface. And underneath. It’s complicated with the First Lieutenant. He has the sheen of professionalism that always puts the others at a distance, and it’s gotten worse with Colonel Freedman’s abrupt departure.

However, Mike knows Jack doesn’t underestimate the use of gossip, he often asks Mike what he’s heard, like when he asked him to report when their new Colonel would arrive. He likes being in the know. He likes being able to plan. He likes knowing how to hold himself towards others. Yeah, it has to be Jack.

Mike lives in the dormitories and he knows those lines are tapped. So, he goes to a phone booth to call Jack, looking suspiciously over his shoulder. He tries not to say anything incriminating during the call, managing to convince Jack to meet him at the park.

Half an hour later and Jack greets him, looking concerned as he asks Mike what’s up.

Again, Mike casts a suspicious look around, before he answers: “Colonel Curtis asked me to look into Lieutenant General Becker. Off the books. He wants to get him removed, be the one that does him in, so he can get promoted.”

“He’s not even been here for long and he’s already looking for a way up?” Jack asks, brow furrowed as concern creeps in.

Mike nods: “Yeah, seems so. He told me I could get someone I trust involved, so-”

“You’re going to do it?” Jack exclaims, though he is careful not to be too loud. He doesn’t want to be overheard. Smart.

“Of course not,” Mike snaps back, indignant that Jack would think that. Though… “Well, not entirely. I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t, so I will. But I’m also going to be digging into him. I don’t want him to use my network for his politics, makes me feel vile.”

Jack looks relieved at the statement, but there is a tenseness that doesn’t leave him. Cautiously, he says: “You want to go digging into our commanding officer?”

“Well, he’s obviously up to something,” Mike argues.

“He’s ambitious and eager to prove himself and climb the ranks,” Jack counters. “Everyone knows that Lieutenant General Becker isn’t cut from the best cloth. It’s an easy target to go after when you want to make your mark.”

“Are you defending him?” Mike asks, unable to hide the disbelief.

“No, I’m just trying to find his motive,” Jack answers.

“He told me his motive,” Mike replies shrilly. “He wants to ‘apply’ the information I get him to get promoted. Either he thinks I’ll uncover something more serious than the prostitution speculation to get Lieutenant General Becker out, or he’ll use it to blackmail him into a promotion.”

“That does sound bad,” Jack agrees tentatively.

“It is bad, sir,” Mike says, adding the sir despite not being on the clock, hoping the bid to his position above Mike will make him more open to working with him.

“It is at the very least suspicious. Having intell never hurt. I’ll help you,” Jack decides.

“Thank you, sir,” Mike tells him, feeling for the first time since that morning that he can breathe properly again.

“No, thank you for coming to me with this,” Jack says. “I might not want to believe it, but our Colonel is suspicious, especially with how Colonel Freedman disappeared. I don’t want him to mess any more with my unit.”

Mike’s heart swells a little at the declaration. Colonel Freedman has always been their commanding officer and they followed his orders without question, but First Lieutenant Speltz has always been there for them. He is their leader and they are his unit. It nice to know the feeling is reciprocated.

“It’s good to have you as back up, sir,” Mike smiles, then the two quickly lay out the basis of a plan, before they bid each other goodnight. Tomorrow will be a weird day.

He has to hand it to Colonel Curtis, he’s a great actor, because when he arrives that morning with his coffee there is nothing out of the ordinary with him. He doesn’t send Mike a conspiratorial glance or acknowledges him more than usual. Just nothing.

It’s eerier than their whole interaction yesterday had been. The ability to carry on as normal, like what he has asked Mike to do is an ordinary thing.

However, Jack also doesn’t show any signs of knowing that today isn’t the same as yesterday, instead greeting the Colonel with respect, before carrying on with work in his usual professional manner. So Mike tries to follow their lead.

Over the course of the next three weeks, the two do their best to find out everything they can about Lieutenant General Becker and Colonel Curtis.

And the deeper they go, the stranger it gets.

Not about Lieutenant General Becker. He’s what it says on the tin. He is having affair after affair and is nasty to both his wife and the women he pays to help him cheat. His own subordinates are kind of scared of him, but there’s nothing that proves their fears as valid, except for rumor. He likes his position and he’s unafraid to flaunt it.

If it weren’t for the uncomfortable feeling Colonel Curtis gave him, Mike would be happy to dig until he found something on the guy.

Meanwhile, the true mystery he and Jack uncover is Colonel Curtis, who, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t seem to exist except for the paperwork.

None of his contacts can find people who have ever worked with Colonel Curtis and all rumors about him only come from the worse side of Amestris, the shady side. The only Curtis he finds that soldiers who served during the coup remember is a couple of butchers over in Dublith, who have no relation to any Edmund Curtis and the lady on the phone laughs for five minutes straight when he asks her about him.

It worries him and he knows it worries Jack. He suggests going to a higher up to say what’s happening, but Jack shuts it down. He has obviously given it more thought, because he says: “It is honestly not that weird. From what I hear, Central used to be one snake nest of backstabbing, likely still is. They won’t care and all we get is a pissed of CO. Better not risk it.”

“But we can’t give him this,” Mike protests. “He doesn’t even really exist that should be cause of concern.”

“He does exist on paper,” Jack corrects. “And that’s all they really care about, especially with how effective he has been.”

Mike scowls, but knows he’s right. So, he huffs: “Then what do we do?”

Jack smiles and for the first time Mike realizes why Jack might be their First Lieutenant instead of anyone else. “We’ll launch a sneaky counter attack.”

“How are we going to do that?” Mike asks, enthralled by the idea of sneaky warfare. He hasn’t been doing this for long yet, but he wants to get good at it. Information is a tool and a weapon is also a type of tool.

“We’re going to subtly spread Colonel Curtis’s motive,” Jack tells him. “Just inject it into your network. Not in as many words, we don’t want it to lead back to us, but make sure rumor of it reaches the right ears. I’m sure some of the higher ups would like to know what game the new guy is playing.”

“Oh, oh, you can be evil,” Mike says with delight, especially when Jack returns his smile. He really feels this experience has brought the two of them closer together, that he gets to see a little bit more behind the professional mask. Like he’s getting closer to what Rachel has with Jack.

“I have my moments,” Jack admits modestly, though pride shines through as well.

~~

A/N:

For Mike I really tried to balance inexperience with potential, hopefully it came across right :D

[lessonsfrommadamexmas]

Hello, my Tumblr people. It's been a really, really, reaaallyy long time. But I came to finish what I started when I created this account. It's never too late for a final chapter, I guess. My biggest thank you to everyone who followed this little story. I know I disappeared completely but this place was very special to me and maybe I'll be using it again sometimes.

[halfmoonshines]

Sooo I’ve decided to get back on my fic shit and write a Bucky one shot when I’m off work

Any requests?

[theblueeyedfirebender]

The roaring in her head has gone quiet.

- The Counteroffer

Art by the incredible @kangdae95draws. I have been wholly blessed by this wonderful, talented artist, who took such great care to bring this scene to life exactly how I envisioned it.

[tries not to cry]

[cries a lot]

[callie-the-creator]

ayato aishi being in love with an idol!reader would include...

sfw. warnings: yandere and obsessive behavior but that’s about it.

author’s note: this was also posted on my wattpad account, just wanted to share it here!

• the only reason ayato knew of your existence was because he heard your name a few times brought up at school. at first, he thought you were a student at akademi but something in the back of his mind told him that he had the wrong idea. he ended up shrugging it off. that is, until he saw a 3d billboard of you in tokyo, telling the watchers below to buy tickets for your upcoming concert.

• this whole time, y/n was an idol? ayato felt like a complete idiot when he realized this and spent the next few minutes, just standing there on the sidewalk, watching the same billboard cycle through other things until you popped up again. when you did, ayato took his time admiring your features. it's no wonder you were so popular at school...you're gorgeous.

• with that, ayato hurried to his house whilst he looked up everything about you and once he was in his house, he listened to every single song that you have ever sung. unreleased, popular, underrated, instrumental, acapella, you name it. you just so happened to have over 45 songs! for someone who was in the music scene for such a short amount of time, you did have a lot of albums...but that's alright!

— while it wasn't ayato's usual taste in music, he was willing to make an exception for you and only you.

• ayato is the type of guy to see someone wearing a piece of your merchandise, walk up to them, and say, "oh, you like y/n l/n? name 5 songs."

— insufferable, yes, but he had to assert dominance and show every single follower that he was your number #1 fan! if someone claims to be it, they're dead wrong. literally.

• he hates how some of the guys at his school also knew who you were and thought you were attractive. ayato knows that realistically, it was bound to happen but he still hates having to deal with it and it's not like he could do anything about it too, just suck it up.

• if you're the type of idol to dye your hair differently with every single album debut, ayato carefully tracks for any leaks on what color it would be because he's been debating on matching with you. he's lucky that akademi high school isn't strict when it comes to uniquely colored hair (as some schools force students to dye their hair black, even if a person's natural hair color is brown). of course, he would stick out more but he didn't care. it's a way he can show his support for you and there's nothing wrong with that. 

• has only been to one of your concerts since, he won't lie, the tickets are a bit pricey and his part-time job could hardly cover it. the concert was really cool to experience— especially since ayato doesn't get out much— and he loved seeing you in person, but some annoying fans in front of him wouldn't stop holding their signs up in the air blocking his view but still tried to have a good thing by waving his light-stick and chanting in perfect harmony with the other fans.

— he would've gone a vip pass instead, but if he did that, ayato would have become flat-broke and that would in turn make him receive an angry lecture from his parents about finances.

• ayato has sent you loads of fan mail, some by name, others anonymously. he's sure that you get thousands by the hour but if there is even the slightest chance that you might read at least one of his, he'll take that opportunity

• whenever you describe your ideal type in a man in interviews, ayato makes it his duty to meet the criteria. you want someone with a little bit of muscle? he can work out more. you want a man who can cook? looks like ayato will be joining the cooking club at school. trust me, he will do anything to be viewed perfect in your eyes

• although his first-ever time seeing you in person was pretty much a bust, ayato made up for it by teaming up with info-kun to see where you would be in japan and finding your location by fan sightings. it was from there that ayato was able to find you in shibuya but it wasn't good news, actually. you were mad at the paparazzi trying to take scandalous photos of you and when ayato realized this, his head began to spin and he, too, started shouting at them to give you some space and to back off.

— when you realized this, you turned over to see just who was coming to help you since you weren't expecting it and mouthed a small 'thank you' which sent ayato's heart soaring.

• ayato has purchased an ungodly amount of merch from you, whether that be shirts, water bottles, limited-time ramen, or soda cans, he's even ripped off pages in magazines solely because your face was on it.

• alas, he still needs to find a way to worm into your personal life. it's a little hard to do that with just how many bodyguards you have and have lots of cameras in your house, too many for him to be able to capture you without any issues...

[infestedguest]

A relatively common trope of fma fanfiction is the modern Amestris au, which is basically your standard modern au for all your slice of life needs except stuff like alchemy and automail still exist, so the author doesn’t have come up with real world equivalents when that’s not really the point of their fic.

This is all fine and dandy, but one thing that’s always bugged me is that most of the time in these fics Al is just like. a normal, not disembodied, fully abled child. There are several issues with this, mainly that this alteration significantly changes the character dynamic between Ed and Al in ways the author often doesn’t account for at all.

This is also a common issue is regular modern aus, but I bring it up in the context of modern Amestris aus because an idea just occurred to me that I don’t think I’ve seen before: since alchemy still exists, why not have Al just straight up still be in the armor? Put that boy in public school and give him the strangest IEP known to man!

Touchscreens don’t recognize his leather fingers so he has a blackberry (which his hands are way too big for so it takes him twice as long to send most messages because he doesn’t like to leave in typos).

He was both pressured into joining and permanently banned from his middle school’s basketball team within the span of a week.

His condition isn’t secret or anything, it was kind of a big deal at the time and it made the news after it happened but after awhile the buzz mostly died down.

They were contacted by one of those medical mysteries documentary shows (a la extraordinary people), and Pinako told them that if they thought she would let an entire camera crew into her house they were fucking insane.

The initial publicity is the only reason the Amestrian government hasn’t kidnapped him or anything, but they do stalk him and the brothers and the Rockbells have definitely noticed.

If Izumi is Ed and Al’s legal guardian they are much more discreet about it because whenever she spots them hiding in the bushes or whatever she starts reciting castle doctrine law “to no one in particular.”

Because the modern world is a bureaucratic panopticon from hell and also CPS exists instead of just going out into the world to find the philosophers stone the Elrics just have to study real hard and try to eventually get into Alchemy MIT I guess.

Al is physically unable to use any kind of headphones because he has no ears.

He and Mei Chang are playing Minecraft right now as we speak.

[xxsycamore]

OFFICE ACTIVITIES

╰┈➤ ❝ That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now. ❞

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Office Sex; Secret Workplace Relationship; Semi-Public Sex; risky sex; Desk Sex; Sexual Fantasy; Dirty Talk; a lot of dirty talk; Teasing; Kink Negotiation; Glove Kink; ROY'S GLOVES; you know where they're going; Hand & Finger Kink; Finger Sucking; mouth fucking (w fingers); Begging; Praise Kink; Pet Names; Roy is both rough and very loving; Female Ejaculation; Squirting; and i mean SQUIRTING; squirting is the main focus of this fic; Vaginal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Masturbation; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Kissing; Neck Kissing; Aftercare; Some Humor; Light Dom/sub; Dominant Roy; Dacryphilia • wordcount: 5,211 • masterlist

"Colonel, you wanted to see me—"

"Lock the door."

Blinking, you look at Roy's silhouette where he remains with his back to you in his chair, facing the windows of the sunlit office. You do a small bow while complying like a good subordinate, even when he won't see it, and lock the door from the inside. Still, you can't help but let out a small sigh. The pile of paperwork on his desk is bigger than what you saw this morning, when you expected to find it at least halved by now. But alas. And while everyone is away taking care of their own duties, you have the office to yourselves today, so locking the door is hardly necessary…

"With all due respect Colonel, you really, really don't have to hide the fact that I'm helping you with paperwork. I'm sure everyone knows by now."

Roy spins in his chair bossily, raising a hand to signal he doesn't want to hear more. "I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"No, seriously, it's okay, I-"

"Come here."

You do as told, ready to take the load he'll hand you from another pile, or something else to be taken care of in his stead, anything, really. He's in the habit of procrastinating often, you know your Colonel well. There is something almost endearing about it, when he doesn't realize how bad he is at masking it.

He's gesturing you to stand not in front of his desk but rather to join his side, and you do, finding yourself close enough to notice even how the irritation colors his gaze to make it fiercer. Once you're where he summoned you, Roy removes the folder he was holding in his lap and throws it on the desk.

This tricks you into thinking that the folder is the object of importance in this exchange. When your eyes shift to those of the Colonel for further cues as to what is wanted of you, your attention is inevitably stolen.

Roy's blue uniform trousers are tented with an obvious erection.

Face heating up, you quickly close your slightly agape mouth and try to look anywhere else, and disastrously you meet his gaze. Judging by the way he does nothing to hide the fact that he has a noticeable hard-on, or by the way he looks you right in the eye, you have the feeling that you'll get to live another day. Then he speaks again.

"I can't work like that."

His tone is stern, not even a whisper; something akin to one of his less-straightforward orders that would see him click his tongue when failed to comprehend by the other party.

And you don't want to disappoint.

"I understand. You can't work like that indeed, Colonel…"

And you do understand. If he went this far, then that's all you need to understand that you're allowed to lower your guard now.

It's all so natural with you when Roy beckons you into his lap, and you don't lose time maneuvering yourself because you've claimed this seat dozens of times already; your Colonel has a high sex drive. Despite being lovers after work hours, he still needs you during the day, when you're stuck playing this game of pretend. Or maybe that part is exactly what entices him?

Claiming his lips for an impatient kiss, you can't help the small grunt that escapes your throat as soon as Roy's hands begin roaming and foundling about your chest.

The worst part, you never get used to this.

With color on your cheeks, you try your hardest not to hump his leg and miss entirely the point of your being summoned here. You place another chaste kiss on his lips, boldly taking the decision of when enough is enough as you nudge things forward. Undoing the first button of his uniform, you make place for your lips to touch the heated skin underneath. To feel his hot pulse under your tongue as you place kitten licks there.

Roy's curiosity leaves him enjoying the show as you find your footing again, removing yourself from his lap and instead sinking to your knees with a thud. Your hands make their way downward on his torso and then fall on his thighs, his clothed arousal right in front of you.

"You should've told me sooner, Colonel… I could sneak under your desk, I could even stay there while you attempt to take care of those documents… With the way I'm hidden, surely the door doesn't even need to be locked."

You time your suggestion with palming the tent of his trousers, eager to feel how your words get to his head. But he only smirks.

"As much as I feel compelled, no."

It leaves you confused as you stand between Roy's legs. It's rare for him to refuse a blowjob, the balance of powers in this game of teasing is once again off in favor of his striking dominance.

"On the desk. Now."

Pulse quickening, you find your head clouded when you rise to your feet again. Roy all but backs you onto the desk with his body, your legs parting to make space for him in between.

His backlit frame only highlights the darkness of his eyes as he has you cornered; you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for something, anything.

"You know, you're the reason I can't do my work right now. I've been thinking about you again. About fingering you."

Fuck. This close up, you're sure he can observe even the tiniest of bodily reactions he rips out of you with words alone. The slight twitching of your leg, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you realize you're at fault for his hard-on. The expectation in your wide eyes that are pleading him to share the images birthed by his brilliant mind that led to this.

"That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping in your veins turn to liquid fire as you burn from the inside. Something deep in your belly awakens, steals your resolve and fills your mind with cries of hunger.

Roy wants to make you squirt; to send your body into tremors overpowering your very control of it until you're helpless and making a mess of his hand, of possibly everything - the thought is almost scary, for reasons unknown to you, and you shiver. The signals your brain unwittingly sends south make you feel a certain pressure rooted deep within your core - as if, almost by his spoken command alone, your body can obey and leak arousal through the layers of clothing that you want gone now.

And so you begin to undress, making him chuckle with your impatience. He meets your hands halfway and easily takes over with his much steadier ones, unshaken by building lust unlike you - even if his firm erection which is now pressing against your thigh says otherwise.

He mutters something about how much easier this process would be if you were wearing a miniskirt right now and not those troublesome uniform pants - and the distraction returns some blood to your head as you exaggerate a sigh followed by a tiny laughter. It makes the task of taking off your uniform jacket and unbuttoning your shirt easier.

Unlike the hushed pace of removing the article of clothing, Roy noticeably slows down while peeling the underwear off your lower half, enjoying how he renders you naked and completely on display before him. He pokes a firm index finger on your glistening folds to part them, and you can see his gaze clouding with desire as he inspects the wetness seeping from your core.

Before you can avert your eyes, he locks his with yours. The gentle caress of his warm palm on your belly right over your womb startles you.

"Do you think you can do this for me?"

The whine coming from deep in your throat surprises you, and you feel as if you can get off on this simple, chaste sensation alone. Your pussy throbs in neglect.

"Please."

Roy mocks you just a little bit with his laughter for receiving pleas in place of an answer. Even if it works just about alright with him.

Instead of feeling his fingertips returning to your folds, upon withdrawing, you hear a desk drawer opening. Willing your heart to take the chance and relax, your eyes follow Roy's ministrations as much as they can. He takes something from the drawer and - to your utter surprise, it's a new pair of white pyrotex gloves.

Your legs twitch in a manner of closing, instinctively, as you stare at Roy confused.

"Don't play coy now, I know you've always wanted this. You can't take your eyes off my hands when I'm wearing those."

You puffer your bottom lip, defeated. He's way too observant. Or you're way too horny when it comes to this, to him. Especially now that the only thing you can call the display of his fingers pushing their way inside to find their designated places, vain at the back of his hand protruding, ministrations rougher and rushed because he's not touch you right now, is simply pornographic. They look so good on him, stressing the deftness and length of his beautiful fingers, the flame alchemy transmutation circles at the back stark red to remind they're no ordinary gloves.

"But… isn't this…"

"Dangerous? You think I'd put you in danger?"

There's irony in that line when it comes out of the mouth of Roy Mustang putting on the gloves that give him the name of the Flame Alchemist, but you can will your brain into pushing through the surface to see the offering of trust here. Especially because he is so dangerous is that line so delightful, stroking the trust of your heart that would let him do everything, anything to you.

Combined with his touch returning to caress your skin, this time on the inside of your thigh, you genuinely relax - but only for a second, because you're now busy trying to commit to memory every second of feeling the texture of his gloves on your naked, sensitive skin.

"Besides… I thought you love to say that they're useless when wet."

. . . . .

"Pfft—"

"Are you laughing now?" Roy's eyebrow arches as he stares you down, one part genuine disappointment, one part overemphasis as he knows you'll only laugh harder at his reaction. And laughter is a good balm for relieving the nervousness that made your belly noticeably tense up and cave into itself.

His thoughtfulness goes mostly unnoticed as your laughter quickly morphs into another whine as Roy's glove-clad hand brushes against your arousal. The touch is feather-light, yet when looking down you can unmistakably see the glistening juices on the tip of his middle finger where he used it to swipe along the slit of your pussy.

"Have you fantasized about this before?"

Roy is awful for ending most of what he says with the curve of a question, giving tasks to your brain that are a little too hard to take on. He drives your mind to a place inside the darkest nooks and corners of your perverse imagination where you see yourself stealing his gloves to masturbate with. Or where he's letting out his frustrations on you, you being dragged in an ally just meters away from where some bastard managed to run away from him, tarnishing his plans. You love how he fights but manages to never get his hands dirty. Being dragged to these dangerous missions that give you the chance to see him in action never fails to mix pure, incontrollable desire with the adrenaline running through your veins.

"Yes…" You confess in a tiny voice, and Roy rewards you with another barely-there touch, even if it aims not to bring you pleasure but to simply coat his fingers in your juices and prepare them for penetration. Roy raises them up for you to see. You're already wetter than when you'd finish fingering yourself to the thought of him, and it makes your face red with embarrassment.

"How unfair. I remember being way more concrete when sharing what goes in my mind than you, just now. But I will allow it… you seem to have a hard time forming coherent words right now."

Your brain goes haywire with the rising expectation of feeling him either on your clit or inside you first - the seconds stretching out endlessly before he finally makes his attack, the tip of his middle finger rubbing the tense muscles of your entrance.

Roy is careful as he pushes his finger in, having a good idea about the impact of this long-awaited exploration of the material of the gloves in your most sensitive place.

You're erratic, body spasming to suck him in deeper and pelvic arching to scratch the itch you have deep inside. The fabric adds a delicious layer of thickness to his already girthy finger, but…

"Not- enough— More…!"

Roy clicks his tongue. "You're way too impatient. I'm already being so generous to you, pushing my fingers inside you to give you what you want. Perhaps you can learn from a little exercise before we continue."

Roy's finger exits your heat roughly, in vivid contrast to how he entered you, bringing forth more wetness that helplessly leaks on the office desk. You exhale heavily in defeat, pleading Roy with a wet gaze. He remains unwavering, like training a dog that refuses to obey, and raises his other, dry hand to your face with fingers stretched forward.

The little cute tilt of your head has him letting out a mocking sneaker, and he suppresses the need to scold you for needing verbal orders as well.

"Suck."

Following every little twitching of your pupils as your eyes get hazed with the desire to worship him, Roy is not sure if your mouth falls open to moan or to take him in first. Either way, his fingertips already register the softness of your lips, even through the texture of the glove.

You part your lips further with the intention to fit two of his fingers in your mouth, and Roy allows it. Your tongue explores them, tracing over the seam running down the sides, then the junction of his index and middle fingers. You suck there, barely remembering to look Roy in the eye like you wanted to instead of remaining with your eyes closed in bliss.

He looks… aroused. With how much composure he possesses, the thought of how, in turn, you might look right now scares you. But you can't do anything about it - this, too, is a major fantasy of yours. And it only gets better.

Withdrawing with a wet pop, next you hope to fit another finger in, if Roy is willing to bring them closer together, and he quickly gets the idea.

This is his left hand that he uses to do this to your mouth, and he is still so very skillful with it. He tricks you into thinking you could do whatever you want with his three fingers in your mouth, but as soon as you lower your guard, Roy shifts their position, grabbing your tongue.

Your eyes widen, pathetically trying to call out to him in the one moment your ability to speak is stolen. Roy enjoys the muffled sound that resembles his name and continues to hold out your tongue between his fingers, watching you begin to droll.

From there on it's easy for him to shift his fingers once more, placing them flat against your wet tongue before gathering them together again…and beginning to slide them on your tongue.

The place between your legs is burning, and it feels like torture when you already know what it feels like when he pleasures you. You'd much rather he didn't touch you there at all before this, inner walls contracting to chase after the faint memory of his single digit's shape where it was buried inside you.

Roy fucks your mouth with his gloved fingers, and you moan around them. It's a filthy display, with your cunt dripping on his desk, and he can't avert his gaze for a second.

"Enjoying yourself? Maybe I can keep doing this until you cum and we end things here?"

Alerted, you want to communicate your wish to go all the way with what he planned for you, and to speak you need to withdraw - but the second you lean back, Roy's hand pushes forward, following your movement without letting you escape.

Just before you can choke, Roy removes his fingers from your mouth, and you see how much they're covered in your saliva. The risk did things to you you're unwilling to admit.

"Okay, I get it. You need more."

Finally able to take mouthfuls of oxygen again, you feel silly for being so worked up and breathless from just this. But Roy likes what he sees, especially when you try to present your cunt better for him, spreading your legs further apart.

"You're absolutely leaking…"

"Colonel, Please…" You beg, attaching the honorific to your pleas because you know the effect it has on him. "Colonel Mustang, please fuck me with your fingers. Make me squirt."

He returns his right hand to the burning skin of the apex of your thighs, tracing along your outer lips with a small hum.

"Okay then. Let's make your cunt squirt for me."

You throw your head back a second too quickly, as the heavenly feeling of Roy entering you again domineers over the bits of decency left in you. His finger bottoms out in you, swirls around until his palm is facing downwards, and is taken out again - just for you to instead feel the tips of middle and ring fingers prodding your hole next, in the same position.

"Nghh—" You groan, remembering to breathe as Roy explores your tight insides. You begin to relax, and the movement of his fingers gradually becomes smoother. The wet sounds of his entry come to your ears every time he pushes out the way out and pushes in again, and they embarrass you a little.

After a good few strokes like this, Roy turns his hand around.

He keeps his fingers buried deep inside, unmoving save for his fingertips that begin to search around, prodding into your front wall, looking for that spongy part inside you that will make you see stars.

More heat rushes to your lower body and you let a particularly loud gasp when Roy finds it. He mutters a word of self-satisfaction and repeats the motion, hitting your G-spot.

The pleasure begins to build with a dangerous speed, and you barely contain your moans. There's still something missing, but if you receive it right now, it will be too much.

Roy knows your body and its limits well. He doesn't force the pleasure on you, and keeps a steady but slow pace. Monitoring your sweet sounds, he is careful as to when to move on to the next step.

"I'm going to touch you here next."

Narrating his ministrations, he manages to make you focus. You fix your position on the desk again, making sure to watch what he's doing.

Roy puts the thumb of his left hand flat on your clit. At first, the mere presence of it is enough to send sparks of stimulation deep inside you, creating a loop of pleasure with where his fingers are buried, but you get used to it quickly. Then, he begins to rub your aroused nub, and you go erratic once again.

"Ahh— Too much-"

"Shh, I got you." He gives you a break, simply resting his thumb there without caressing, while he focuses on thrusting his fingers in and out.

Your heavy breaths are entangling with needy moans as the pleasure builds, this damned feeling of not enough threatening to eat you up from the inside. Roy knows your body well in combination with masterfully reading your reactions, and generously gives you more when you ask for it. The balls of your feet press harder into the surface of the desk near the very edge of it, your torso lifting just a little bit, to chase after Roy's movements inside you. He lets you rock back into his fingers, more wetness coming out and lubricating his entry.

"I'm going to speed up now. Tell me if you need to stop."

You breathe heavily through your nose, nodding your head more times than he needs for confirmation, and it makes him chuckle. The corners of his lips don't stay curled for longer than a second because of his growing concentration.

The rubbing on your clit returns, and Roy's fingers don't slow down. Standing there with nowhere to escape but to receive his rough, filthy yet loving pleasuring, you grip the edge of the desk behind your back preparing yourself, as it builds up.

"Roy- it feels a bit strange—"

"In a good way? Like you wanna go?"

Your answer comes a bit late because your mouth is stuck falling open in the face of those unfamiliar sensations. You hurry to blurt it out before stops, god forbid.

"In a very good way…! Just please, don’t stop!"

Not needing to be told twice, Roy keeps the pace, firmly hitting that same spot inside you with his fingers while rubbing on your clit. He watches your body spasm as you let out a scream, and then it happens.

Liquid begins to stream out of you, coating Roy's fingers - a small flow at first, before you all but hear the sound of a squirt escaping you.

"Mmm…" Roy grunts at the sight and the feeling of you closing up from the inside on him, fingering you through it until your body begins twitching too much. Careful not to overstimulate you, he withdraws your fingers, causing a smaller squirt to flow out.

Breathing heavily with your mouth open, you close your legs a little bit now that Roy's hands aren't between them, and you look at the puddle next to them. When you return your gaze to Roy, he's looking straight at you, leaning in for a kiss.

He's definitely not kissing you enough during all of this, but you don't feel too cocky right now to complain about that. Not when his kiss feels so rewarding.

"My good girl. I knew you could do it. Did that feel good?"

Roy drinks down your small noises of lingering satisfaction, and you whisper a breathless 'yes' before kissing him yet again. It makes you a bit too distracted, and you almost jump at the feeling of his hands parting your legs again.

"Think you could do it again?"

You look at him in disbelief, but it might be directed at yourself and the ridiculously deepening arousal you feel more than anything, your core pulsing in anticipation, aching to feel Roy's fingers again.

He knows that look. Pecking your lips with his once again, he slips his fingers in.

"Put your hands around my neck."

Your heart leaps at the command and you shift your body, grabbing into him for purchase. Your ass is on the edge of the desk now, and you're holding Roy for dear life, his broad shoulders being your anchor.

"Will it be easier for you this time, hmm? You're nice and open for me."

"Roy… don't say things like that…"

"But it's true. I love knowing that I can make your body soft and pliant, letting me do such a naughty thing with it."

You groan and shove your head in the junction of his neck and shoulder, warming the skin with your breath.

"Don't hide. Come on, kiss me."

It's easier said than done, when the sensation of what is happening between your legs rules over every coherent part of your mind. Roy knows your kiss would be lacking and sloppy, and maybe that's exactly why he wants it.

His tongue shoves between your agape lips, dominating yet another part of you as he continues to finger you while avoiding the place that is swollen and needy for his touch, as if testing if you can start leaking juices again even without the stimulation.

The strange feeling builds again, and this time you're not afraid of it. You break the kiss to plead.

"Roy…Roy! Touch me more! Now!"

Hearing the low rumble laced with dark wanton deep in his throat, you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he begins stroking your clit again.

Your moans of his name grow from encouraging to warning, as you feel the water balloon deep in your core close to popping once again. And then it happens.

Large portions of liquid fall noisily to the floor, mixing up with the sound of water squirting out of your body. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as a purely physiological reaction, the pleasure playing a big part in it.

Roy's large palm is so warm as it moves up and down whole, unlike how he'd only move his fingers earlier, and you feel played like an instrument; like you're close to witnessing the true strength in him that you lustfully admire finally inflicted on your body - in the most perverse, but loving and safe kind of ways.

"Gods— I can't tear my eyes off of you. Look at you."

Planting his forehead against yours, your eyes trail from his beautiful lashes up close to the place he's admiring, and you have to fight a surge of embarrassment. This is what he made out of you, you're so very his in this moment.

"Roy…—Ahh-"

He speeds up again, not having left your core for a moment, and you feel yourself starting to do it all over again, even if it's more of a current flowing out of you instead of the earlier powerful jets. What builds up inside you is different this time, a feeling you know all too well, something that you were lingering along the surface of for the past few minutes but that was always pushed to the back of your nerves in the face of the new, unfamiliar sensations.

"Come for me. Come on my fingers."

Roy fingers you silly, your walls clamping down on him as he does it just the way you love, no tricks this time to conquer your body, he just gives it to you. And you take it oh so willingly and greedily.

It takes no time for you to reach the heavens, and you moan out his name once again, feeling the electricity of an orgasm surge through every nook and corner of your being, toes curling in pleasure.

Roy holds you through it, making sure you ride your high all the way. Towards the end of it, your leaking hole begins helplessly pushing out more liquid.

"Roy— Too much—Roy-"

"Fuck." He curses as he slowly withdraws his fingers, noticing how thickly they're covered in your warm juices all the way down his palm. He enters you with one finger to tease just a little, meeting no resistance. "Fuck." He repeats as he reaches down to palm his bulge. He moves to his belt and begins undoing it in a hurry.

Pulse beginning to drum in your ears, you continue holding onto his tall frame as your eyes widen. Just how worked up did that make him? You figure he must be painfully hard by now, watching you perform the one thing that would get him erect relying on fantasies alone.

Wrapping the hand dripping with your juices around his cock, he uses the slick to lubricate his pumps as he pleasures himself at the sight of you. It lights a new fire inside you and you can't help but watch; the reddened head of his cock, the vein running down his side protruding with the rush of blood, and his culmination dragging closer.

He lies you back down on the desk and you place your hands below your hips, opening up more for him, so Roy can get a nice view of your still swollen lips and pulsing hole. He moves in closer, bringing his strokes so close to your pussy that it makes you clench down so hard when he accidentally brushes the tip against your inner thigh.

"You're perfect. So perfect for me- Haah—"

You rarely hear him let out more than a grunt, a man in control of himself even in the face of consuming wanton. It's rewarding, knowing that it's you who turned him into that. There's nothing more that you want right now than to watch him spill all over your spent cunt, coating it with his warm cum.

Roy keeps stroking, and you wonder if he's fallen prey to the heightened stimulation of the gloves too, seeing that he didn’t bother to take them off even after making use of the juices coating them. It could be this that works him to orgasm so soon, or it could be everything else combined with it, but you soon hear the familiar sounds of him losing control.

In the next moment he erupts, hot-white pleasure reaching to his very gaze as you see him taking in the sight of you hungrily. Warm ropes of cum land on you one after another as Roy pumps his cock, the swollen tip kissing your sensitive folds.

He loses the inner fight and presses forwards, pushing the bulbous head of his cock inside you, moaning as another gush of semen leaves him and fills you with scorching warmth.

You mewl at the unexpected contact, shudders of pleasure rippling through your body as you continue to feel his cum even after he removes his cock from inside you. You feel it drip out thickly, mixing with the rest of the mess left by your passionate session.

"Kiss me, Roy!"

"So demanding…" Hurrying to comply with your weak, adorable command, Roy seals your lips with his before you can scold or bite him. With how good he seemed to be making you feel, he's not too worried about facing those protests, though.

You and Roy remain like that for awhile, catching your breaths but losing them right anew in passionate kisses, not breaking off the contact even as he tucks himself back in his trousers and readjusts his messed-up clothes, removing his gloves as well. He tells you to wait for him as he goes to take something to clean you off with, but you just cling harder to his frame.

"Stay a little longer…"

He exaggerates a sigh but still smiles stupidly against your nape.

The late morning sun has nothing on the warmth that comes from Roy's embrace, and you bask in it.

"You know…" He begins, playing idly with your hand with his now bare one, as if he had started missing the direct touch so soon. You hum in question, and he continues.

"I want to take care of those documents even less now."

"…ROY!"

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ok but real one, reader taking care of a sick Edward Elric? I loooove sick fics, give me that half angst half comfort content 🙏🏼 (if you'd like to of course LOL) ((have a good day thx for sharing your stuff <3))

The Best Thing (Edward Elric x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼! 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗵

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

He’s been asleep all day despite it already late afternoon. He hasn’t left his room in the inn for more than a few minutes- long enough to use the bathroom, really. And he probably hasn’t eaten anything more than pieces of buttered bread and sliced apples in the past couple of days.

All this to say, he can’t remember ever being this sick in his life.

He’s tired. His body aches. There’s a pocket of pressure stuck up in the bridge of his nose. His eyes keep watering. His nose keeps running. And on top of that, his throat hurts. Yet every time he tries to gulp down water or some tea, nausea hits his stomach like a brick and forces him to lie down again. Only he can’t stay still while lying down. His headache only seems to get worse when he’s not laying in a certain position and he can’t help but shiver out of nearly every position while he attempts to pull his covers impossibly closer to himself all so he could feel warmer. But according to you, his skin is warm and reddish and hot to the touch. A fever he just couldn’t sweat out. Just like the cough he couldn’t shake. And the sneeze he just couldn’t…well, sneeze. 

But probably worse of all…he missed his mom.

That’s all he could think about in the few short moments he was awake. How much he missed her. How she always knew what to do. How she always knew how to take care of him. When he was healthy. When he was sick. That was all he could think about.

Sometimes he would hear his brother’s voice when he’d rouse from his sleep. It’d be soft and quiet. And in some moments, he felt like he could no longer hear the clinking of metal armor- almost like this was happening when times were good. When he had both a little brother and a mom. Sometimes, he would hear another voice too. It would be just as soft as Al’s, but it’d be even sweeter. It would often be accompanied by other things too. A kiss on the cheek. The hum of a lullaby. The dabbing of a cool towel against his brow. And even the occasional hand tangling itself through his hair and combing through it softly.

For the longest time, in the fever-induced haze his body was trapped in, he couldn’t help but feel it- feel like it was his mom taking care of him. Taking the burden off my shoulders. Allowing him to feel young and protected and spoiled once more. He couldn’t help but picture that it was his mother this whole time. He just couldn’t help it. He missed her. He needed her. He’s still young. He just wants his mother back. He just wants his mother. That’s all he wants. Really, that’s all he wants.

But when he opens his eyes? When he really opens his eyes to more than just the few centimeters he can barely manage throughout the day, he doesn’t see his mom. He sees you. And he’s reminded by that dull ache in his missing limbs and the fact that he no longer has his mom. That’s she gone and nothing he can say or do will ever bring her back. He knows that intimately. Because he’s tried. So, even still…

“I’m glad you’re here.” He finds himself murmuring as you come to sit down on the side of his bed. You eye him cautiously when you hear him speak. Almost like you weren’t expecting him to talk at the moment (or even be awake). However, it doesn’t stop you from leaning over his torso, bringing the back of your hand up to his forehead, and pressing lightly. Instantly he’s attracted to the coolness of your hand and how it feels against his body. His body has been alternating between feeling too cold and too hot nonstop. But the back of your hand is a welcomed feeling now that his body feels like it’s been lit with a small fire from the inside. As is the towel you bring up to clear the excess sweat away from his forehead. Something he feels just a bit too delirious to feel embarrassed about at the moment. “Thank you…for taking care of me.”

“Oh, Ed…” You coo at him, an impossibly comforting look in your eyes. You’re not his mom. You exist entirely from a point in his life where he was without his mom and was down an arm and a leg. But in his mind, you’re the next best thing. He thinks that when you place a gentle kiss on his cheek and smile against him. He thinks that when you brush the stray hairs off his face and ease him up so he can take a few sips of the water from his cup at the nightstand. He thinks that more than anything when he’s reminded of your patience and care for him as pats his back when coughs up the very same water he was greedily sipping at and cleaning up any of his spills. He thinks that because he knows it is true. “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I’m happy to be here for you.”

And he’ll keep thinking that even in the moments you don’t.

Because to him, you’re an angel. If there’s a higher power out there, then that higher power must have sent you in place of his mother. Because your soft words and sweet kisses and constant affection feel like a healing touch. Or maybe that’s just because he always feels better when he’s with you. Because you make things better. Because you always make him better. In ways that the both of you don’t even know. 

And he wants to tell you all this. He does- he really does. But the him that’s usually up and healthy and out and about is rarely sentimental enough to say something that meaningful and important. And the him that exists right now? The one that is starting to struggle with keeping his eyes open? The one that is starting to sway and rock and doze off right in front of you? That one could barely form the words important or meaningful enough to share such a message. In all honesty, he doesn’t even believe that he’ll remember this particular encounter when he’s no longer sick. Or even the next time he wakes up. 

But he has to say something. He just has to.

So instead, he just utters an “I love you so much” and hopes you get his message. And as he falls asleep to the feeling of you pressing your lips against his while you murmur, “I love you more,” he’s confident that some part of you knows that you mean the world to him. Because besides his brother, you’re all he really has. And you’re not his mom, sure. But you’ve already proven long, long ago that you’re more than enough. Because you’re perfect. Because you’re an angel. Because you’re the best thing he could ever have in a world without his mom. 

And because you just might be the best thing he could ever have even in a world with his mother still living in it.

[poppy-pelican]

Teaser for my Royai WIP

So, I dusted off this baby. I left off a couple years ago and it was 9k of Roy being an ass in denial throughout canon. It's all very, "We are just friends! Why does everyone think we're together?"

Then Riza loses it because she thinks Roy was killed.

"Wait a second. Wait. Does...Hawkeye have feelings for me?"

"Nah. No way. She's too smart for that."

Then she's taken as a hostage under Bradley and Roy is like, "Okay. Fuck. Why does it feel like someone has carved my heart out of my chest? Why do I miss her so much? WTF!"

I love to torture Roy and I don't know why.

#

Untitled WIP snippet

Roy knew from a young age what type of woman he liked—the beautiful girls who worked for his aunt. Willowy and soft, or with plentiful curves in the right places. They had long hair and painted their lips. They wore flowery perfumes.

As an apprentice to Berthold Hawkeye, teenage Roy spent much of his limited free time chasing the experienced village girls who liked the idea of fooling around with an aspiring alchemist.

Riza Hawkeye, boyish in both looks and demeanor, plus much too young for him, wasn’t on his radar. And he wasn’t on her radar at all. When she was fourteen, she accidentally walked out the door right when he was kissing his girlfriend on the doorstep.

Riza turned bright red and immediately retreated back into the safety of the house. She had recovered by the time Roy bumped into her in the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his head nervously. He didn’t want to get in trouble with Master Hawkeye for traumatizing his innocent child. “I didn’t mean to give you a terrible memory.”

“Yes, it was kind of terrible. I don’t think you’re supposed to suck both lips into your mouth.”

“Apology rescinded,” he said, tossing a bread roll at her head which she easily dodged. Riza so rarely insulted him, but when she did, she didn’t hold back.

She could tear a man down with just a few words. Roy preferred girls who showered him with flirtatious praise. Maybe it was because Master Hawkeye was constantly dragging Roy’s ego through the mud, but he craved even the shallowest praise from his girlfriends.

Riza clearly took after her father with her barbs.

[roseofbattles]

“We have a joint operation up in Central next month, so that's something to look forward to I guess,” Riza says.

“Don't sound so excited,” Rebecca says, savoring a sip of coffee with a bite of dessert. “There's lots to like about Central – the food, at the very least. Even if you don't have time for shopping you have to eat. Don't let Mustang force you to eat at the cafeteria or get food from the commissary for every meal or I will personally kill him."

excerpt from An Argument for Therapy by more_than_melody

art preview by @littlewitchbee

this is part of a project I've been working on for @royaibigbang which will be posted Oct 3rd!

[back-in-a-bit]

correct me if i'm wrong, but nowhere in fullmetal alchemist does it state that mustang is ed's commanding officer. sure, he recruited ed, but in chapter 4, after ed saves the train with general halcrow onboard, we see this:

(sorry for weird formatting or quality, i'm on mobile)

so this implies that ed usually moves about outside mustang's district. another translation translates this phrase as mustang's jurisdiction. and then again, immediately after:

which implies that ed doesn't report to mustang. mustang just keeps an ear out for whatever crazy new stunt ed pulls off. ed actually calls him nosy for knowing that much. also, we never see mustang give ed any orders or missions throughout the series. he even only introduces ed to shou tucker in exchange for ed taking care of the train rebels. and in chapter 8, when ed and al are about to return to resembool for repairs after the fight with scar, we even get this:

i'm fairly certain this is mustang's convoluted way of telling ed to take care (after all, scar is still on the loose), but the implication that ed isn't actually under mustang's jurisdiction is pretty clear.

[gipsyjr]

full metal alchemist AU where instead of binding Al's soul to a suit of armor, he's bound to Edward's body. they just, share Ed's body.

so many plot holes and issues come from this but im just focusing on the fact that Al can take over control when he thinks Edward is getting out of control so just like imagine him doing a 180 in actions and creeping everyone the hell out like

Ed: *incomprehensible arguing after researching for 2 days straight*

mustang: *arguing back because he's a petty grown ass man*

the Team: *is watching while workin*

Ed: *freezes and shuts down like a robot for 5 seconds*

the Team:??? he gud?

Al/Ed: *laughes sheepishly* terribly sorry about that, Ill take him to bed.

mustang: ...

Al/Ed: *skips out of the room humming and smiling knowing damn well what he's doing*

the Team: ??!??!?!! he broken???

[polypolyanna]

Fanart of chapter 4 from What Love Is by TheTypingWalrus. If you like Hohenheim you should go read this story it's great.