M/F romantic relationship with existing or developing sexual interaction. Does not include canonical relationships.
When she prayed the next day, she only whispered the bits about sin, because how could anything that felt that good be wrong?
Roy was enchanted by the sound of her voice, pure like dewdrops in the morning.
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
She had heard all the lines before. Pinako was a female in a mostly male line of work, after all.
"You are the only one who has acknowledged me," she suddenly whispered , "since he's been gone."
It was as if there was an invisible box Edward carried with him, keeping a careful several inches between him and the rest of the world at all times.
The sheer naughtiness of it all was unexpectedly exciting, and she found herself trembling even before the cold steel met her skin.
The smart thing to do would be to cut and run, but somehow that just didn't seem manly. And Ed was not going to look like a girl in front of this creep.
Edward would speak to him, eventually. Any good dog would, and despite his obstinacy, the child could be trained.
Endorphins then, that's what he's been missing.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
"You should know better than to behave that way, Envy," said a voice against his ear, and he felt the warmth of breath as it feathered over the side of his face.
She laughs to see the grand scholar on his stomach on the floor of the living room, reading his sons a fairy tale from a fat little book.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
The room had gotten hot and stuffy, and there was sweat on both of his hands, though the sheen on the automail had not come from his own body.
They kissed only once. She tasted like ashes and brine.
Zinnsoldat, they named it, the Tin Soldier, in reference to their former service and in acknowledgement of their current uselessness.
"Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that."
“You just need to make it clear to him that he may have an opinion on the matter, but in the end, you’re the one who’s going to be doing all the work. Roy and I had that discussion months ago, and he’s been very cooperative ever since.”
“Envy,” she murmured in her brother’s ear. “I need a favor.”
Her lover could have been anyone; Edward or Alphonse Elric, Roy Mustang, Ling Yao.
Winry had been confused by the birthday present she received from Gracia, this year.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
"...Sir..." he tried, beginning to compose himself again. "Don't you think...ah...that this isn't very professional of either of us?"
Ed loved his brother, and would take his company as a roommate over anyone in the world — except one; but he made a damn lousy substitute for a girlfriend.
The kid had said she was into ... different things, but in all his years Greed could not recall ever having found eggs a helpful sex aide.
All the alchemical skill in the world didn't matter, he was learning, when it came to something like this.
Winry had never gotten to appreciate the leather pants in her current position as the person who got to unzip them.
When he comes to, the blue light of the alchemical reaction is fading, and the air is thick with smoke.
He was also certain that if he gave in and laughed, Edward would hang up and never speak to him again.
Instant formulas for your pairing of choice! Simply add prose and stir well!
Edward was like on a dog on a too-short leash, so close to the bone but unable to taste it.
"Apparently their mother never cautioned them to stay away from strangers with cars."
Roy Mustang often looked back on his wedding night, recalling what he had thought about his subordinates; even now, they were his family, his safety, his friends.
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
He doesn't look anything like Roy, and she's not sure if that's good or bad.
He underestimates the little things, like how long it will take him to put his socks on in the morning, and she comes up the stairs when breakfast is long since over to find him crouched over a torn stocking, blinking back furious tears...
A small smile crept along her face--this visage made for mischief--and her tell-tale purple eyes narrowed.
Alphonse might not have been attractive in Envy's eyes, but what he currently represented was.
Somehow, this volunteer assignment wasn't starting out exactly the way she'd hoped it would.
As much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything.
Pillow talk, with the Fullmetal Alchemist, was shop talk.
Fullmetal was starting to turn slightly purple, now, which definitely clashed with his coloring...
"We don't need those little bastards. We'll make our own family."
He hates the military. Maybe he doesn't. Roy and straight-line thinking aren't on speaking terms anymore, though he likes to pretend.
Eventually, Roy had to take things into his own hands. Was it really his fault that it had ended up so literal?
So soft... so completely squeezable. It would take work to make this decadent man hard.
"Fuhrer my ass," Edward said. "He's still nothing but a perverted old man."