dragonimp

Hello! If you're here for the fanfiction, there's an archive below the cut. Many of these works are yaoi/shonen-ai, and some may be rated as high as NC-17. If this is not your cup of tea, then please leave. All entries will be clearly labeled, so proceed at your own risk. Comments and crits are always welcome. Flames will be deleted without comment.

Otherwise, feel free to browse! Friending is always welcome; but if we haven't interacted much, you might want to drop me a comment. If I don't recognize a name, I might not friend back ^_^.

Title: Marked
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Romance
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Warnings: none

Follow on to Stigma because I can't help myself.

Ed fought to keep from blacking out. The rubble and debris surrounding him only entered his awareness when it it dug into his side or scraped his hand as he shifted about trying to cling to the tiny thread of awareness. He was focused on one thing: Al. Al better be okay.

Because Ed was going to kill him.

....

dragonimp

For some reason Roy had tucked himself away in the front room, so Ed decided to be courteous for once and bring the cocoa to him. He found him sitting by the window, seemingly mesmerized by the flurry of snow outside.

“If this keeps up, we might be here longer than we thought,” Ed remarked. “I hope you planned for—ack!”

Without warning Roy grabbed him around the middle, pressing his face to Ed’s chest. Ed stumbled, juggling the mugs and somehow getting them safely to the windowsill without scalding either one of them. “Shit, Roy, I don’t actually want to dump hot liquid on you! What’s with you?”

Title: Ice and Rocks Were Not Part of the Plan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: romance, fluff
Pairing: Roy/Ed

For: “One blanket, two frozen assholes...”

Ao3

It was supposed to be a simple mission.  Just a meeting with the commander of North City, maybe an inspection of one or two of the outposts.

Ed had insisted on coming along and Roy still wasn’t sure why.  He wasn’t even full military anymore, hadn’t been since he’d come back.  But he said he’d “never been up that way,” and even though Roy had told him there wasn’t much to see except snow and more snow, here he was.  In the exact right place for his life to be in danger once again.

Title: The Hour of the Wolf

Rating: PG

Genre: angst

Pairing: Roy/Ed

Warnings: talk of depression, PTSD

For: “Vulnerabilities”

Ao3

Ed stumbled out into the living room, his half-awake brain honing in on the incessant, obnoxious ringing that had woken him in the fuck-ass hours of the morning.  His feet propelled him forward as he went through his options:  he could ignore it and let Al deal with it; he could unplug the damn thing; or he could pick it up and see who it was like a responsible person.

He stared at the receiver that was now in his hand.  Guess he was going for option three.  Although now that the noise had stopped, the temptation to simply drop the phone and go back to sleep was strong.  But curiosity and the fact that so few people called—and never at this hour—finally won out, and he put the phone to his ear.  “H’lo?”

“Ed?”

He blinked, startled awake another two notches.  He knew the voice on the other end, but something didn’t sound right.

dragonimp

It was a big mountainside, right? Plenty of room. At least that's what Roy had told himself. And yet, somehow, he was careening toward a collision with another skier and all he could do was shout out a warning. He didn't just crash into the small blond—he completely bowled the person over and sent both of them tumbling, skis and poles and limbs everywhere.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" He fumbled around in the snow, cursing the skis and those damn rigid boots. How did anyone move in these? He finally managed to extricate himself without doing too much damage and awkwardly reached a hand out. "Are you all right?"

The other skier didn't answer right away. From the long hair and short stature he'd been afraid he'd run over a child, but when the skier pulled his scarf down and pushed up his ski goggles he could see that this guy was at least in his twenties. That made him feel slightly less terrible.

"I think you broke my leg."

So much for that.