[fic] Sixth Sin
You know, the more written work I need to do for class, the more inspired I get to work on writing for pleasure. (Also, the more I journal, it seems.) I really kind of want to try my hand at Stacy's Hamlet!fic request, and Avatar AU gen with OT3ish overtones where Mai, Katara, and Zuko meet during the Cultural Revolution, and stupid Mai/Zuko college AU, and that Ouran/Avatar fusion that I've owed meredyd for forever and a half. It's mildly problematic. (And fine, maybe more Qmi AU, evaporate. Maybe.)
Whatever, I've actually just gotten a decent amount of work done on this history paper, and have finally figured out what I'm going to do both my critical and creative projects for Joyce/Beckett on, so I don't feel too guilty.
Title: Sixth Sin
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing/Characters: Ed/Winry
Rating: R
Summary: Ed envies Winry her gifts too.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
1. Ed’s seen how Winry is with her other customers, the effortless curve of her smile, the odd girlish grace she maintains even in bouts of her own curious humor, or the throes of a temper matched only by his own. He’s seen the way they adore her.
She knows how to give them laughter, and love, and life.
2. Sometimes, Winry looks at Ed with her face tilted just so, her eyes knowing and soft and filled with the weight of all the history they’ve shared. It’s the way she looks at him every time he and Al leave Pinako’s house again, and he feels the somber warmth of it long after he knows he’s faded from her line of sight.
All the alchemy in the world cannot grant him the brand of power those eyes hold over him.
3. She got hurt once, when they were younger.
The wound wasn’t deep, and it wasn’t a remarkable incident, really, but Ed still remembers Winry curled around the injury, lip bitten against a whimper, and blood. Blood, and the ground digging into his knees as he knelt at her side, and the fear of touching her with clumsy, untrained hands.
Mostly, he remembers not knowing what to do, and realizing that she would have, were he the one prone and broken.
4. Years later, the first time she takes him into her bed, she wraps those long, long legs around his waist, her teeth marking his bare shoulder, her body warm and wet and woman when he slides into her, and he knows that he will never be more helpless than this.
5. He supposes he’s always loved her, in a simple, clean cotton sort of way, the way that one loves a fixture of childhood, out of habit and expectation, if nothing else.
They grow up, though. They grow up, and there are soft curves and bright eyes and something strange and new between them, but it’s simultaneously so familiar that he barely notices how it threads itself into their lives.
He’d die for her. To keep her alive and whole and happy. To keep her healing hands free from the taint of doling out death, to keep a creator’s hands from destroying.
He’d die for her. But when he sees her, he remembers that he’d rather live.
Whatever, I've actually just gotten a decent amount of work done on this history paper, and have finally figured out what I'm going to do both my critical and creative projects for Joyce/Beckett on, so I don't feel too guilty.
Title: Sixth Sin
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing/Characters: Ed/Winry
Rating: R
Summary: Ed envies Winry her gifts too.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
1. Ed’s seen how Winry is with her other customers, the effortless curve of her smile, the odd girlish grace she maintains even in bouts of her own curious humor, or the throes of a temper matched only by his own. He’s seen the way they adore her.
She knows how to give them laughter, and love, and life.
2. Sometimes, Winry looks at Ed with her face tilted just so, her eyes knowing and soft and filled with the weight of all the history they’ve shared. It’s the way she looks at him every time he and Al leave Pinako’s house again, and he feels the somber warmth of it long after he knows he’s faded from her line of sight.
All the alchemy in the world cannot grant him the brand of power those eyes hold over him.
3. She got hurt once, when they were younger.
The wound wasn’t deep, and it wasn’t a remarkable incident, really, but Ed still remembers Winry curled around the injury, lip bitten against a whimper, and blood. Blood, and the ground digging into his knees as he knelt at her side, and the fear of touching her with clumsy, untrained hands.
Mostly, he remembers not knowing what to do, and realizing that she would have, were he the one prone and broken.
4. Years later, the first time she takes him into her bed, she wraps those long, long legs around his waist, her teeth marking his bare shoulder, her body warm and wet and woman when he slides into her, and he knows that he will never be more helpless than this.
5. He supposes he’s always loved her, in a simple, clean cotton sort of way, the way that one loves a fixture of childhood, out of habit and expectation, if nothing else.
They grow up, though. They grow up, and there are soft curves and bright eyes and something strange and new between them, but it’s simultaneously so familiar that he barely notices how it threads itself into their lives.
He’d die for her. To keep her alive and whole and happy. To keep her healing hands free from the taint of doling out death, to keep a creator’s hands from destroying.
He’d die for her. But when he sees her, he remembers that he’d rather live.