Tag: fma

The Alchemist of a Thousand Eyes. || iwaoi. fma crossover.

The darkness around him is four weeks old. They give him food and water, pull the chains around his ankles and wrists so tight that his skin bleeds underneath the fur. Every day, a man with yellow eyes visits him. He touches Hajime’s forehead, and a searing pain twitches through his head. He knows what this is, and when a cruel, sharp mind pierces into his own thoughts, he screams for help, begs, promises anything and everything. Help me, God, please. 

“He’s still human, in there,” the man says one day. Hajime whimpers. Finally, he’s heard him. The guard standing outside the cell smiles; he’s all ink-black hair that sticks into the shadow above his head in the light of the lantern. Both wear the badge of a state alchemist. They’ll help him, right? The man with the yellow eyes – he looks like a cat, Hajime thinks, licking his mouth in the hope of more water – steps out of his prison cell. He’s quiet for a long time. 

Then, he turns to the guard. “Kuroo, we need him. This could be it. Tell him that we got a chimera that’s been made by his old teacher.” And before Hajime can even open his jaws in an attempt to growl out words, the lantern goes out and darkness engulfs him yet again. 

In the three hours that pass, he lives through everything all over again. The man luring him into a house in the forest with a promise for food and money; Hajime’s stomach growling, the hunger in his chest, he hadn’t eaten since his village had burnt down in the war. Everyone dead, dead, dead, corpses in the wet, red darkness of the ruins, lingering, watching him. The man had taken him in. And when Hajime woke, he’d been in chains, and his mind had howled at the sight of his body, transformed, bleeding and there were claws, teeth, fur – 

“Is that him, sweetheart?” – “Do not call me that. Yes. We think the body’s a bear, the horns seem to be from a bull or something. Excellent nose from a dog. He’s got some humanity left in his head, so we didn’t cut him open to see if – “ 

“God, he’s… yeah, he’ll do. Let me in.” A soft chuckle. “Finally.”

Hajime barely hears the voices whispering around him. The cell door creaks, light casts over his face. He blinks, chains rattling, a growl in his chest, and then there’s a man standing before him. His eyes are dark, a glint of fire sparking in them as he leans down to touch Hajime’s nose. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” the man says. “My, what did this monster do to you, hm? You can tell me later. First, I’ll get you your voice back.” Hajime’s eyes go wide. He roars, struggles against the chains, and the man raises a hand to hold the guards back from storming into the cell. 

“Relax. This’ll only hurt a bit. I cannot turn you back into who you were. But we’ll make a deal.” Hajime hears a metallic sound. The man pushes up his sleeves, the state alchemist’s watch dangling on his hip. And then, Hajime sees his skin, and he whimpers in sheer horror. Oh God. 

“You see,” the man smiles, smiles, his lean arm flexing in the lantern’s light. His skin is covered in human eyes. Their lids open to stare at Hajime, life pulsing inside them, pupils wide in silent terror. And when a hand grips his throat and the blue light of transmutation twitches through the cell, he hears the man say: 

“The man who did this to you is the same who did this to me. I’ll give you back your voice, sweetheart, for a few of my eyes. And in exchange you’ll lend me your nose to find the man who made me the Alchemist of a Thousand Eyes.” 

When the blue lightning dies, Hajime’s throat burns like hell. The man stands and turns to leave, pushing his sleeve back down. Hajime gets up and follows him, not paying any attention to Kuroo or the yellow-eyed alchemist. 

“Who are you?” 

The man looks at him over his shoulder. His collar slides down a bit, and a row of tiny, sad children’s eyes stares at Hajime from the alchemist’s neck. The smile on his lips is dangerous, sharp enough to cut. “I’m Tooru Oikawa. You coming?”

And Hajime follows him. 

For RoyEd week Day 5: Crossover or alchemy 
| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 |

“Gentlemen – Colonel. You will always remember this as the day you almost caught the Fullmetal Captain, Edward Elric.” 

Oh, that little shit, Roy thinks when a knife presses against his throat and warm lips graze his neck. The other soldiers are frozen into place, staring wide-eyed and horrified when the most infamous pirate on the Pacific Ocean slides a sharp blade against Roy Mustang’s neck and kisses his jaw. 

“Did you miss me, Roy?” 

Fuck. His name sounds like pure sin off Edward’s lips, and Roy struggles to breathe. The ocean sends a salty breeze over the haven’s dock, and Edward’s scent of ashes and gunpowder and metal has Roy shiver in his strong grip. He really grew up, damn it. It has been five years since Edward and him spiraled into a night of wild kisses, burning skin and soft moans, and Roy remembers every moment of it. Fucking hell. 

Edward Elric is like a hurricane on the open sea, thunder and lightning and salt water brushing Roy’s lips like a whispered promise in the storm’s howling voice. 

“Colonel!” Someone screams, weapons rise into the air, and Edward grins against his skin. “Don’t shoot, or I’ll ram my knife through your beloved Colonel’s pretty chest,” he says, but only Roy hears the words he purrs afterwards, mouth breathing hot and perfect against his ear. 

“Three days from now. Tortuga. Come if you’re not a fuckin’ coward. I’ll be waitin’ for you, darlin’.” 

And then a heavy hand of metal pulls him around, and the soldiers scream in panic when Edward Elric kisses their Colonel with a hand around his neck, knife against his throat, soft tongue licking over Roy’s mouth who can’t do anything but stare, blink, and wonder how he’d ever been able to tame the power of nature that is Edward Elric. 

He’s gone with the wind faster than Roy can react, and he barely manages to reach out and grab one of the soldier’s shoulders, holding onto it. “Don’t let him get away!” someone bellows, and they’re all storming past Roy and after the whirlwind of gold and red that vanishes in the haven’s busy crowd. “Catch Edward Elric!” 

“Captain,” Roy hears himself mumble before sinking to his knee and touching his lips. They’re still burning, hot and gorgeous from the man who’d kissed him like the sun itself. 

“Captain Edward Elric.”

For RoyEd Week Day 3: Angst or happiness 

Inspired by “Louder Than Words” by Les Friction.
| Day 1 | Day 2 | 

No one could outrun the crash
It was all reduced to rubble and then again to ash
To the blinding burning light
It’s no use to fight – there’s no one out there

The sword’s blade pierces his leg like it’s soft and boneless. 

He doesn’t hear his own scream when he goes down, knees crumbling under the weight of his body, and then something explodes at the end of the corridor. The alchemist in front of him – a traitor, running away in an attempt to sell information to one of Amestris’ countless enemies – stares, and his face draws into a horrible grimace. 

“Right, you lost your precious alchemy, huh?” He kicks Edward’s weapon away before he can reach for it and pushes the sole of his foot against the sword that he’s bored through Ed’s thigh so skillfully. “Killing you will be so easy, it’s almost pitiful.” The pain is a white explosion behind his eyes, and now he’s screaming, clutching his leg and the blade, hands immediately soaked in blood. 

The alchemist rips the sword out and raises it above his head. Ed stares, thinks of Al and Winry and – 

There’s a sharp snap, and the whole corridor lights up in golden, roaring flames, and everything except for the spot where Ed loses his consciousness is devoured by fire. 

“Fullmetal!” 

He falls into darkness, blood heavy on his lips, and the scent of ashes and warm arms around his body carries him away. 

There was no signal from where you were
All failed contact, no life disturbed
Hovering above gravity’s lure

The first coherent thought is: Roy. 

He jolts awake, arms reaching forward with a growl ripping from his lungs, and the pain that immediately tears through his leg has him tear up. It’s a hospital room, white and sterile and unfamiliar, and Ed has the urge to jump up and run. Al’s hunched form in the corner rises, his brother jumping over to him and throwing both arms around his neck. 

“God, you’re alive, you’re alright – we thought, oh god – Brother, don’t do this ever again.” There’s tears in his eyes and Ed feels guilt stab through his chest. He pulls Al closer, lies back down, not daring to look at his leg just yet. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m fine, I’m – Al, don’t cry, fuck.” 

Al sniffles and wipes tears off his cheeks, sitting by his side with one hand laced up with Ed’s. He hiccups one more time, then he smiles with red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks. 

“Yeah. You’ll be okay. Your leg was hurt pretty badly, you lost tons of blood. You need to rest for a bit but it’s gonna be fine. They were just hoping you’d wake up soon.” His voice goes low, dark around the scattered edges. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if Roy – “ 

Ed blinks. Right. Those flames that had burnt the other alchemist to ashes could’ve only come from one person. “Where’s he?” 

“Outside, waiting. Told him to go sleep a bit some time ago, but you know him. Wouldn’t admit that he’s worried, made up some story about having business in the hospital.” Al grins, and the tears are gone from his face. Ed feels his face go red. Goddamnit. 

“Well, uh. I don’t really care if – “ 

“…you’re aware that I know about you two, right? And that I don’t mind?” 

Holy shit. Ed drags both hands down his face and groans from the depths of his chest. And finally Al laughs, and they spend a few more minutes with Al gently teasing him and Ed trying to hide his embarrassment. Then, his brother stands up and says something about getting Ed food, and that he’ll be back soon. 

As soon as the door opens, there’s a faint scent of embers and dark ashes wafting in. Ed sits up against the headrest, and then Roy’s already striding inside with the usual authority that seems to accompany him like an invisible ghost. 

“Hey Mustang, I’m barely awake yet – “ 

“Shut the hell up.” 

Roy’s voice shakes, and he grabs Ed’s hand to press it against his mouth, eyes closing as his lips burn like fire on Ed’s knuckles. Fuck, oh god. Ed knows that he’s blushing, heat rising in his cheeks, and he mumbles something inaudible before Roy interrupts him with a warm, perfect embrace. 

“Don’t do this on your own next time. I’ll go with you. You don’t have to prove anything, Edward. You’ve proven it all, you’ve been through war and hell and we all respect you. So for god’s sake – take me with you next time. I have your back, I always will.” 

We have the force to fight
We have the blinding light
A war is more than heard
Coming in louder than words
Louder.

The touch of Roy’s forehead against his own is raw, untamed heat, the almost reverent trace of fingertips along Ed’s jawline, his cheeks, his temples has him shiver. Roy stares at him like he’s afraid Ed may vanish any moment, and maybe that’s what Al calls love, what those stupid books are about and what everyone in the world tells him is better and more powerful than alchemy. 

“Okay. But don’t stay behind when I take ‘em down quicker than you’re able to follow, bastard.” 

Roy smiles, and the chuckle he makes against Ed’s neck has his skin sing. 

“Alright. I’ll be behind you, and I’ll be there when you fall again.” 

“I won’t. That was so cheesy, you know. Idiot.” 

A soft kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth, and when Roy whispers “idiot yourself, you damn wildfire”, it’s okay, and the pain in his leg slowly, gently, fades. 

For RoyEd week Day 2: Similarities/differences or parallels. 
| Day 1 |

It had been Alphonse who’d explained everything to him.

“It’s called selective mutism,” he’d told Roy with a gentleness that was only present when the Elric brothers talked about each other. Alphonse’s smile had been broken back then, and Edward had held him upright with an expression that promised murder to anyone who’d dare to touch his brother in his weakened state. 

Alphonse had given him a smile and turned back to Roy, explaining something about Edward in a few short sentences that had Roy stand up from his chair in one fluid motion. 

“He can’t speak anymore?”

And Alphonse’s smile had been so sad and guilty that Roy sat back down, clinging to the edge of his desk in an attempt to remain calm. 

“No, that’s not it. The gate didn’t take his ability to speak. It’s something that can happen after – after a trauma. He just… he can’t speak.”

They had both adjusted to it, and even after Edward returned from a journey of six years and had changed into something so unfairly gorgeous that Roy forgot how to breathe, things had only worked out more smoothly every day. 

Edward had been the one to ask him out. 

His fingers had talked as quickly as his mouth back then, and Roy hadn’t needed Alphonse to decipher the new words that Edward had once again invented to improve the language of his mute body. Always the scientist, the inventor and creator, Roy thought when he agreed to a first date, and Edward’s smug grin had been the same as six years before that, when he’d started a journey to grow and learn and accept that changes he’d gone through. 

And today, three more years later, Roy could proudly say that things weren’t as bad as they could be. 

When he came home from work and threw himself onto the couch, Edward was usually already there, hunched over a pile of books with two cups of tea steaming in front of him. Roy’s boyfriend somehow had an infallible feeling for when he’d come home, and Roy thanked him with the softest kiss against that warm nape of his neck.

Luckily, Edward had gotten used to working at home these days, at least whenever he wasn’t travelling with Alphonse or polishing his new-found sword skills to perfection (Olivier Armstrong had been a strict, horribly intimidating and excellent teacher. Roy still remembered that one evening he came home and found both of them fighting, all pillows in the house sliced in half and the couch able broken from he-didn’t-want-to-know-what-exercises). 

Tonight was a free evening for both of them. Roy had suggested going out but the soft frown that appeared on Edward’s face made him shrug off the idea. They had decided on just sitting and talking – which basically was Edward gesticulating as wild and beautiful as always, and Roy holding him against his chest, smiling and wondering how he was allowed to be with a man who carried the sun in his eyes. 

People wouldn’t stop shit-talking about Edward. Behind his back, there were countless rumours, the most ridiculous ones saying that his tongue had been cut out (Roy would love to assure them that Edward Elric’s tongue worked perfectly fine, thank you very much, it could bring a man down within seconds), other rumours told that the gate had burnt out his vocal cords. 

Definitely not true. 

‘Bastard.’ Edward’s way of addressing him was charming as always, Roy thought when he received a shove against his shoulder. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He cooed at Edward, pulling him closer so he could kiss his hair and bury his nose into that spun gold. Edward rolled his eyes and made a short gesture – ‘sappy idiot’ – before curling against Roy’s chest, building a nest out of his boyfriend’s body and the blanket Roy had pulled around them. 

Roy watched him and waited patiently. Edward took a deep breath and exhaled, resting his head in the warm curve of Roy’s neck. His fingers danced across Roy’s chest, and it seemed impossible to Roy how two people as different as them could ever fit together as perfectly as this. 

Edward seemed to be reading his mind, again, because he gently kissed Roy’s neck before lazily raising both hand again. 

‘Stop thinking so much. Just hold me, I’m tired and demand my daily amount of cuddles.’

“Of course, your majesty, granting it right away.” 

And Roy laughed, warm and loud and open-hearted, because Edward always reminded him that they didn’t have to be the same to fit together, that all of their demons and hopes and the warmth in their hearts had found each other through chaos and death and destruction. 

That only two different pieces of a puzzle could fit together, and melt into one. 

Five years after the hell of metal and blood, Ed decides that it’s time to find out what kissing tastes like. Al just smiles when Ed announces that he’s going to visit the Colonel, “have fun, brother, and don’t be too wild”. What a strange thing to say, Ed thinks when he storms into Mustang’s office, slamming the door shut like roaring thunder and striding over to the man with eyes as burnt-out coal, the man with fire on his hands, his smile and goddamn perfect touch and a warmth that Ed intends to steal away. As if anyone could tame him, Ed thinks. He’s the Fullmetal Alchemist. And then – shit, fuck, he hates it so much when Al’s right. 

“Kiss me.” 

His demand has Mustang wide-eyed, stilling. Then, he stands up. Ed’s aggression suddenly fades away, he stutters his broken request again, spits it almost like an insult – “I waited so long, you bastard, and if you’re not gonna kiss me already, right now, then I swear I’ll fuckin’ – “ He’s just going to leave, run away and scream, what a horrible idea this was, he’s an idiot and lovestruck on top of that, oh God – 

Roy Mustang doesn’t tame him. He doesn’t cage the pure electricity in Ed’s veins, doesn’t put chains onto his heart; instead, his soft mouth whispers “Fullmetal” and “finally” against Ed’s shivering lips, and the kiss tastes like smoke and the dark, low hum of Mustang’s mouth pressing against his own with heat and gentleness and an adoration that Ed thought he’d never deserve. 

Goddamn Roy Mustang, the man who doesn’t shut him down, the man who sets him free and lets him fly. 

the first rule will always be the hardest for ed. ‘if it happens, don’t touch me.’ he’d given a promise to roy, sealed with a kiss and fingers weaved into a net of golden-and-pale skin. the other rules hurt, too, but not as much. ‘wait. don’t call anyone. wait till i tell you it’s alright.’ 

tonight is bad. ed sits and waits, fighting against all of his screaming instincts that rush in his veins and tell him to touch the blanket where roy’s curled up, shaking. it’s 4:35 am. roy is silent. ed knows that he clings to the fabric, and that he’s biting the soft valley between his thumb and the rest of his trembling hand again. there’s a name for this thing. hawkeye told him. it’s trauma, a beast like a homunculus that paratizes in the usually gorgeous depths of roy’s mind, and ed hates that he cannot form a circle and transform it from a memory of blood and screams and death into something that’s full of light. 

“…fullmetal.” roy’s voice is calm, deep, unmoved like the sky at night. a mask. ed forces himself to be slow as he slides towards him, lifts the blanket and cocoons his body and metal around roy. there’s a last shudder surging through roy’s back, and ed kisses the crown of his spine. roy’s breathing slows, tension fainting from his bones. ed closes his eyes. his lips don’t leave the warm skin below roy’s neck until morning.