metal heart║edward elric x reader [fullmetal alchemist]

Chapter 1: In Which You Make a Dramatic Entrance

Note: F/N = Your First Name and L/N = Your Last Name.

Chapter 1: In Which You Make a Dramatic Entrance

A few years later...

IT WAS HOT.

Jeez, it was hot. Still more asleep than awake, you rolled over and pushed your blanket off. Hadn't you left the fans on? It was still winter too, so why did it feel like there was a freakin' wildfire in your bedroom?

Fire.

"Crap!" In one fluid motion, you sat bolt upright, grabbed a pillow, and brought it down on the small blaze at the end of your bed. You continued the beating until the flames were nothing but a blackened hole through your pristine white sheets.

"Festus!" you shouted. A moment passed before the door of your bedroom was pushed halfway open by the head of a dragon. Not just any dragon, though. You had pieced her together with your own hands, combining countless pieces of bronze, silver, iron and gold into a single, beautiful whole.

And you could just as easily take her back apart again, if her metallic ass didn't stop nearly burning you to a crisp every morning.

"Festus," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "Did you do this?" It was kind of a rhetorical question.

Festus bowed her head slightly, looking as remorseful as it is possible to look with a face made completely of metal. Her emerald eyes (literally--they were made of deep-green emeralds larger than your fist) flickered sorrowfully.

You glared at her.

She flickered at you.

"Okay, okay, fine." You hopped out of bed and walked to the corner of your sparsely decorated bedroom, where a dozen gallon jugs of oil were arranged in a row against the wall. You lifted one and paced over to Festus. She opened her mouth and allowed you to pour in the oil, which promptly disappeared past her serrated iron teeth and down her gullet.

"Better now?" you asked. Festus made a sound that could only be described as a satisfied belch.

Now that you were closer to the door, and weren't so focused on scolding Festus, you could hear something that you couldn't before.

The sharp riinngg of a telephone.

The phone wasn't in your room, but was situated in a corner of the huge workspace that made up the rest of the building. This was mostly because your ability to get a good night's sleep was far more important than any of the drivel the military would call you about. It was also partly because (you would never admit this) you didn't want to have to stare at the telephone, still and silent, on the endless days when no one would call.

But it was definitely ringing now.

You made your way to the phone, yawning and wondering which of the maybe three people you had spoken to in the last few years it could be.

You picked up the phone and said: "Hello."

"[F/N L/N]," said a familiar voice.

"Ah," you said politely. "Flamebrain."

A frustrated sigh traveled across the phone line. "This is no time for jokes, [L/N]," said the voice you had immediately recognized as belonging to Colonel Roy Mustang, also known as the Flame Alchemist. "This is important."

"Well, Flamebrain, what is your earth-shatteringly important reason for calling on this fine day?"

"Is it a fine day? I thought it was raining."