I live.... with fic
I did the original drabble for Swordage a while ago and it got out of hand and spawned this set. Which I also blame on her.
I don't own FMA and make no money from this.
Focuses on the Nest crew.
Warning for not too specific violence and general unpleasantness.
Comfort Food
They've all been avoiding the alchemist lately, all but him. The bottle of alcohol exploded in fire and molten glass as it impact the wall. The chocolate was smeared across the floor in a melting mess. Kimbley was almost trembling, face flushed and pale by turns, pointing to the door with a choked, incoherent growl.
Greed sighed as he used claw tips to pick glass fragments out of his cheek. "It was just a suggestion. What am I supposed to know about PMS?" Still, he supposed this explained the little smirk Martel had worn as she explained to it him.
Bitter Fruit
Martel had always hated her time of the month. Even before it always left her feeling achy and vulnerable and far too cold. It only got worse in the cages, though she doesn't understand why. Because reptiles didn't menstruate, did they? She'd been enjoying the heat of the sun, stretched out on the roof, until a shadow devoured it. Expecting Greed, she didn't bother to open her eyes. "How'd it go?"
"As well as could be expected."
The dry anticipation in Kimbley's voice has her reaching for a knife even before her eyes can snap open. She's still too late.
Bland Fare
They're too trusting. These people who aren't. Far too trusting, knowing who he is. And Greed isn't even the worst of them. The little gecko-like one actually smiles when he sees Kimbley coming, blind or just stupid. He's smart enough to flinch though, when marked hands slide along his tail. He can see the creature swallowing hard and feel the muscles jerk and tremble in his tightened grip.
He doesn't look at the gratitude on its face when he lets go a few seconds later. It would taint the wet rumble and sweet smoke that follow him from the room.
A Little Spice
Dorchette and Law are behind the bar when Kimbley finds them, cleaning up by the look of things. He can feel his lip curling. Such a blindly loyalty and eagerness to work and please. It's a pitiful existence, one in need of something more. The sentiment passes quickly though as he stares at the bottles behind the bar. He runs a hand over them as he moves around the bar, selecting one from the end of the row. He feels the chimeras' gazes burning into him as he leaves, but not for long. The wind at his back is hot.
Sour Grapes
He was sitting at the bar when Greed caught up with him, blood, ash, and broken glass littering the area around him. He studied an intact bottle of something expensive Greed had picked up, then just let it drop to shatter at the sin's feet.
"Why?" He doesn't say anything as he takes in the look of helpless hurt and simmering anger on Greed's face. He doesn't need to. He still can't help a little startelment as the sin slams him into the bar and he feels ribs crack.
He can taste blood when he finally speaks. "Because I could."
Sugar Coated
Dorchette frowned as he stared at the unconscious alchemist then glanced over at Law. "Why did the boss insist we watch him again? I know Martel's burns weren't that bad, but …."
Law gave a deep sigh and didn't lower his book. "He doesn't know how long the drug will keep him under, so we need to watch him."
Dorchette scowled and turned his eyes back toward the alchemist, half-baring his fangs at the little smirk on the man's sleeping face. "He should have done something more permanent, that bastard would take us all down if he had the chance."
Bitter Dregs
He can feel the weakness before he manages to crack his eyes open, the hand he raises to his aching head is trembling visibly. He stares blankly at it until Greed enters his line of vision. He scowls at the sin, then whimpers when the homunculus is suddenly on top of him. Greed's voice is harsh. "We need to have a long talk about proper behavior."
Kimbley can barely stagger to the shower after Greed leaves. He refuses to look back at the bright crimson blood stain slowly browning on his sheets, tries to ignore the pain between his legs.
I don't own FMA and make no money from this.
Focuses on the Nest crew.
Warning for not too specific violence and general unpleasantness.
Comfort Food
They've all been avoiding the alchemist lately, all but him. The bottle of alcohol exploded in fire and molten glass as it impact the wall. The chocolate was smeared across the floor in a melting mess. Kimbley was almost trembling, face flushed and pale by turns, pointing to the door with a choked, incoherent growl.
Greed sighed as he used claw tips to pick glass fragments out of his cheek. "It was just a suggestion. What am I supposed to know about PMS?" Still, he supposed this explained the little smirk Martel had worn as she explained to it him.
Bitter Fruit
Martel had always hated her time of the month. Even before it always left her feeling achy and vulnerable and far too cold. It only got worse in the cages, though she doesn't understand why. Because reptiles didn't menstruate, did they? She'd been enjoying the heat of the sun, stretched out on the roof, until a shadow devoured it. Expecting Greed, she didn't bother to open her eyes. "How'd it go?"
"As well as could be expected."
The dry anticipation in Kimbley's voice has her reaching for a knife even before her eyes can snap open. She's still too late.
Bland Fare
They're too trusting. These people who aren't. Far too trusting, knowing who he is. And Greed isn't even the worst of them. The little gecko-like one actually smiles when he sees Kimbley coming, blind or just stupid. He's smart enough to flinch though, when marked hands slide along his tail. He can see the creature swallowing hard and feel the muscles jerk and tremble in his tightened grip.
He doesn't look at the gratitude on its face when he lets go a few seconds later. It would taint the wet rumble and sweet smoke that follow him from the room.
A Little Spice
Dorchette and Law are behind the bar when Kimbley finds them, cleaning up by the look of things. He can feel his lip curling. Such a blindly loyalty and eagerness to work and please. It's a pitiful existence, one in need of something more. The sentiment passes quickly though as he stares at the bottles behind the bar. He runs a hand over them as he moves around the bar, selecting one from the end of the row. He feels the chimeras' gazes burning into him as he leaves, but not for long. The wind at his back is hot.
Sour Grapes
He was sitting at the bar when Greed caught up with him, blood, ash, and broken glass littering the area around him. He studied an intact bottle of something expensive Greed had picked up, then just let it drop to shatter at the sin's feet.
"Why?" He doesn't say anything as he takes in the look of helpless hurt and simmering anger on Greed's face. He doesn't need to. He still can't help a little startelment as the sin slams him into the bar and he feels ribs crack.
He can taste blood when he finally speaks. "Because I could."
Sugar Coated
Dorchette frowned as he stared at the unconscious alchemist then glanced over at Law. "Why did the boss insist we watch him again? I know Martel's burns weren't that bad, but …."
Law gave a deep sigh and didn't lower his book. "He doesn't know how long the drug will keep him under, so we need to watch him."
Dorchette scowled and turned his eyes back toward the alchemist, half-baring his fangs at the little smirk on the man's sleeping face. "He should have done something more permanent, that bastard would take us all down if he had the chance."
Bitter Dregs
He can feel the weakness before he manages to crack his eyes open, the hand he raises to his aching head is trembling visibly. He stares blankly at it until Greed enters his line of vision. He scowls at the sin, then whimpers when the homunculus is suddenly on top of him. Greed's voice is harsh. "We need to have a long talk about proper behavior."
Kimbley can barely stagger to the shower after Greed leaves. He refuses to look back at the bright crimson blood stain slowly browning on his sheets, tries to ignore the pain between his legs.