Short Fics Post
This was written with one of the fma_fic contest prompts in mind, but for some reason I never submitted it. Beware the creepy.
Prompt # 70: Tempt
Title: Leer
Summary: The idea was delicious.
Word Count: 249
Rating: R for creepiness, language, ect.
Mangaverse
A/N: Wanted to try something really different. Hopefully this doesn’t suck.
He wanted to fuck her.
This, among human males, was not unusual; wishing to fuck the daylights out of an attractive woman. A biological fact that kept him among everyone else in society. Then again, most men didn’t want to fuck her the way he did.
Fullmetal wanted her. Oh yes, Fullmetal wanted her, loved her, even.
Kimblee wanted her. The idea was delicious, making his blood sing just like when he’d destroyed the Ishvalans, been splattered in their blood.
Just like Fullmetal, be loved her big blue eyes, her long legs, the curves of her hips. He loved to imagine those big blue eyes wider than ever, those long legs thrashing as she fought to escape, even as he held her down and whispered the bloody details of how her parents had been killed.
He’d been sent to kill her parents, and instead had found their dead bodies, and her photograph. He smiled at the absolute perfection of the idea. Everything would come full circle. He’d missed out on her parent’s blood, so he would have hers. He wouldn’t kill her, oh no, he didn’t want that.
He wanted her to witness every moment. He wanted to feel her every moment of terror, feel her screams shake his core like so many explosions-
Maybe when he was done, he would draw a smile on her face with her blood. She liked to smile, after all. It was the least he could do. And red suited her very well.
Another fma_fic contest one, though I did post this to the comm, I never reposted it afterward. Its cute rather than creepy this time.
Prompt: Bubble Wrap
Title: Safe Shipping
Rating: K
Characters/Pairings: Ed/Winry
Summary: “Open your eyes.” She looked down. And kept looking.
Mangaverse, post 108, but no spoilers besides a pregnant Winry.
Word Count: 250
“Close your eyes.”
“Ed.” Winry raised her eyebrows. “You saying that makes me afraid.”
“Come on,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s a surprise!”
Winry grumbled to herself. It was especially hot that day, and being five months pregnant made it worse. “Fine.” She closed her eyes, fighting the impulse to peek. Ed had been quite attentive, but lately had developed a few annoying habits, like carrying everything for her (even her water glass for crying out loud) and tucking her in at night as if she were the child. She knew that he wanted her and the baby to be safe, but if he didn’t calm down he was going to end up with a screwdriver stuck up his-
-but on the other hand, he was always willing to give her wonderful backrubs, too, and do the cooking when she didn’t feel like it. Ed’s footsteps approached, and she felt his hands on her stomach, wrapping something around it. Was it some kind of Xingese maternity sash?
“Okay,” Ed said, sounding proud of himself. “Open your eyes.”
She opened them, and looked down. And kept looking.
“Great, huh?” Ed said, getting closer. “Bubblewrap! They’ve just implemented this to packaging systems for mail, and its supposed to keep fragile things safe-!”
Winry took a deep breath. “No.”
Ed stopped mid sentence. “Huh?”
“I said no.” She stood up with some difficulty, pulling the wrap off.
“But Wiiiiinry-”
“No.” She turned on her heel, and fought the urge to find a screwdriver.
I actually placed for this fic. Another fma_fic contest one.
Prompt #167: Overheard
Can be 100-250 words
Title: Shadow
Summary: She knew it all.
Rating: K+ for mild implications
Word Count: 242
No one noticed her.
That was how it was supposed to be. Emperor Ling needed her to be there, to listen, ready and waiting to fight if need be. He wanted her to hear everything, be ready for everything.
Once she’d overheard a wine servant talking about a plot to murder the Empress’s child- Master Ling’s, child- while still in the womb. The conspirators were found, and executed.
The Empress knew of no plots, no brewing wars or peace treaties until the day they were made public, and even then, Emperor Ling did not tell her of them.
But Ran Fan knew it all.
She was his shadow. She did not live in it, the way some people would say. She was his shadow; bound to his every step, slipping between cracks and around corners, going where he could not. A part of him, in a way the Empress would never be.
She did not envy the Empress. It was not her place, for one. For another, she would not have wanted to be that woman no matter what it would have offered. A place in Emperor Ling’s bed? Birthing his child? There were times where she saw flashes of herself doing those things and wished for it, but the Empress existed for those purposes alone.
And Ran Fan did not.
As she stood on the rafters, observing the crowd, lights dancing before her, Emperor Ling’s eyes caught hers, and he smiled.
I don't think I ever posted this to livejournal. Its one of my many Hohenhiem stories, and I hope you all enjoy.
Let Fly
Before, when he was a father and both of his children could fit in his arms and his wife was alive and waiting with a smile when he woke - he had a task.
More and more often then, he would be locked in his study, searching, desperately, for the answers that would fix everything/had to fix everything, so sometimes he would miss meals. Sometimes he would miss the goodnight kisses and twinkling eyes and the begging for a story, please, daddy, please... and his wife usually took care of those things. But there was one thing that he did do.
When he would be in his study, sometimes the door would open, and there would be the sound of small feet, so impossibly small, and he would feel one of his children looking at him, staring at his back, as he scribbled another note, flipped through another book.
“There’s a monster under the bed,” one of his children would say. “Can you scare it away?”
He would look back at one of his children, and he would see that they did not ask this question because they thought him more frightening than their mother (though that was true), but they would ask him because he was daddy and because he was supposed to be strong enough and powerful enough to protect them from everything/anything.
He used to scare away the monsters under his sons’ beds because, after all, imaginary terrors of little boys are easily scared away by a real monster. Later, when his sons’ beds were burned and their mother was buried, and he no longer had any right to be their father, they were in danger from monsters again.
There were no sheets that could be lifted, no easy banishing gaze. The monsters were there, and this time - they really could take his children away.
Prompt # 70: Tempt
Title: Leer
Summary: The idea was delicious.
Word Count: 249
Rating: R for creepiness, language, ect.
Mangaverse
A/N: Wanted to try something really different. Hopefully this doesn’t suck.
He wanted to fuck her.
This, among human males, was not unusual; wishing to fuck the daylights out of an attractive woman. A biological fact that kept him among everyone else in society. Then again, most men didn’t want to fuck her the way he did.
Fullmetal wanted her. Oh yes, Fullmetal wanted her, loved her, even.
Kimblee wanted her. The idea was delicious, making his blood sing just like when he’d destroyed the Ishvalans, been splattered in their blood.
Just like Fullmetal, be loved her big blue eyes, her long legs, the curves of her hips. He loved to imagine those big blue eyes wider than ever, those long legs thrashing as she fought to escape, even as he held her down and whispered the bloody details of how her parents had been killed.
He’d been sent to kill her parents, and instead had found their dead bodies, and her photograph. He smiled at the absolute perfection of the idea. Everything would come full circle. He’d missed out on her parent’s blood, so he would have hers. He wouldn’t kill her, oh no, he didn’t want that.
He wanted her to witness every moment. He wanted to feel her every moment of terror, feel her screams shake his core like so many explosions-
Maybe when he was done, he would draw a smile on her face with her blood. She liked to smile, after all. It was the least he could do. And red suited her very well.
Another fma_fic contest one, though I did post this to the comm, I never reposted it afterward. Its cute rather than creepy this time.
Prompt: Bubble Wrap
Title: Safe Shipping
Rating: K
Characters/Pairings: Ed/Winry
Summary: “Open your eyes.” She looked down. And kept looking.
Mangaverse, post 108, but no spoilers besides a pregnant Winry.
Word Count: 250
“Close your eyes.”
“Ed.” Winry raised her eyebrows. “You saying that makes me afraid.”
“Come on,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s a surprise!”
Winry grumbled to herself. It was especially hot that day, and being five months pregnant made it worse. “Fine.” She closed her eyes, fighting the impulse to peek. Ed had been quite attentive, but lately had developed a few annoying habits, like carrying everything for her (even her water glass for crying out loud) and tucking her in at night as if she were the child. She knew that he wanted her and the baby to be safe, but if he didn’t calm down he was going to end up with a screwdriver stuck up his-
-but on the other hand, he was always willing to give her wonderful backrubs, too, and do the cooking when she didn’t feel like it. Ed’s footsteps approached, and she felt his hands on her stomach, wrapping something around it. Was it some kind of Xingese maternity sash?
“Okay,” Ed said, sounding proud of himself. “Open your eyes.”
She opened them, and looked down. And kept looking.
“Great, huh?” Ed said, getting closer. “Bubblewrap! They’ve just implemented this to packaging systems for mail, and its supposed to keep fragile things safe-!”
Winry took a deep breath. “No.”
Ed stopped mid sentence. “Huh?”
“I said no.” She stood up with some difficulty, pulling the wrap off.
“But Wiiiiinry-”
“No.” She turned on her heel, and fought the urge to find a screwdriver.
I actually placed for this fic. Another fma_fic contest one.
Prompt #167: Overheard
Can be 100-250 words
Title: Shadow
Summary: She knew it all.
Rating: K+ for mild implications
Word Count: 242
No one noticed her.
That was how it was supposed to be. Emperor Ling needed her to be there, to listen, ready and waiting to fight if need be. He wanted her to hear everything, be ready for everything.
Once she’d overheard a wine servant talking about a plot to murder the Empress’s child- Master Ling’s, child- while still in the womb. The conspirators were found, and executed.
The Empress knew of no plots, no brewing wars or peace treaties until the day they were made public, and even then, Emperor Ling did not tell her of them.
But Ran Fan knew it all.
She was his shadow. She did not live in it, the way some people would say. She was his shadow; bound to his every step, slipping between cracks and around corners, going where he could not. A part of him, in a way the Empress would never be.
She did not envy the Empress. It was not her place, for one. For another, she would not have wanted to be that woman no matter what it would have offered. A place in Emperor Ling’s bed? Birthing his child? There were times where she saw flashes of herself doing those things and wished for it, but the Empress existed for those purposes alone.
And Ran Fan did not.
As she stood on the rafters, observing the crowd, lights dancing before her, Emperor Ling’s eyes caught hers, and he smiled.
I don't think I ever posted this to livejournal. Its one of my many Hohenhiem stories, and I hope you all enjoy.
Let Fly
Before, when he was a father and both of his children could fit in his arms and his wife was alive and waiting with a smile when he woke - he had a task.
More and more often then, he would be locked in his study, searching, desperately, for the answers that would fix everything/had to fix everything, so sometimes he would miss meals. Sometimes he would miss the goodnight kisses and twinkling eyes and the begging for a story, please, daddy, please... and his wife usually took care of those things. But there was one thing that he did do.
When he would be in his study, sometimes the door would open, and there would be the sound of small feet, so impossibly small, and he would feel one of his children looking at him, staring at his back, as he scribbled another note, flipped through another book.
“There’s a monster under the bed,” one of his children would say. “Can you scare it away?”
He would look back at one of his children, and he would see that they did not ask this question because they thought him more frightening than their mother (though that was true), but they would ask him because he was daddy and because he was supposed to be strong enough and powerful enough to protect them from everything/anything.
He used to scare away the monsters under his sons’ beds because, after all, imaginary terrors of little boys are easily scared away by a real monster. Later, when his sons’ beds were burned and their mother was buried, and he no longer had any right to be their father, they were in danger from monsters again.
There were no sheets that could be lifted, no easy banishing gaze. The monsters were there, and this time - they really could take his children away.