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Pages: 1, 2, 3, 4
Title: All About the Miniskirt
Pairing: Roy/Riza
Summary: Riza Hawkeye knew she was getting more than she bargained for when she agreed to become aide to Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. She knows she had not been his only aide; there were many others before her. Unlike them, Hawkeye ends up undergoing a never-ending battle of wits with her new boss. However, instead of a woman with brains being a turn-off for the upstart stallion, Mustang only increases his pursuit of her thus worsening the situation.
Rating (original): NC-17 for language and explicit sexual themes
Rating (edited): R
Genre: Drama/Dark Humor/AU

(must read before moving on! Very important!):
This is an alternate universe (AU) fic. Sort of. Actually, it would really be more of an alternate plot. There is no Philosopher’s Stone, and *gasp!* no Edward Elric! =x!!! Basically, all of that NEVER happens. And I took liberties with Mustang. In this fic, he is a BASTARD. Oh, sure, still sauve and handsome and next to irresistable but now he has a more malevolent cruelty about him.

I posted this on the Royai LJ community before, and one reviewer said that the story made her feel sick. Well, I hate to break it to ya, but it's not supposed to make you feel good. In fact, to you new readers, I hope you do get sick. I hope you want to puke all over your keyboards. Because the situation Riza finds herself in is rather twisted and sick. That's the way most of my fanfictions are written: they are different, they are controversial, and in some cases such as the fic you are about to read, are sick.

But, there is one definite point I HAVE to make.

Is this a rape fic?


It is NCS, yes (in which the "unwilling" partner is more than willing but Frosty the Snowman will take over hell before they admitted it), but it is *not* rape.

So, I strongly suggest preparing yourselves (no, there's no visible smut, but that's not what I mean). The first couple of chapters might not seem so bad, but it will get worse.

Will it get better?

Maybe...depending upon my audience.

First two chapters merged together for my newest fic's debut (not to mention my first Royai fanfic).



All About the Miniskirt


Chapter One/Two


When she had been promoted to 2nd Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye believed she finally was beginning to receive the respect she deserved, not because her peers were terrified of her unbreakable serenity. However, after only two days of her certification, a message was sent to the tiny cubicle that had served practically as her second home since she became a Sergeant.

“I have a message from the Lieutenant Colonel,” the young woman making the delivery announced, handing Riza an envelope. Riza’s crimson eyes glinted with surprise as she took the white fold. Roy Mustang? A message to her from him? Certainly there were plenty other 2nd Lieutenants around, why bother contacting her who barely held this title for 48 hours? “This is the formal statement,” the woman continued, referring to the envelope’s inner contents, “but he says that you are to move your things to his office.”

Riza was now taken aback, though her shell of equanimity did not allow show. She had been under the impression that she would remain where she was. Nobody had said anything to her about changing offices! Her eyes quickly scanned the other occupants of her cubicle: pictures of her family, assignments from the head desk, and random books both relevant and irrelevant to her job; all of which were stacked and sorted into its proper place. Change was nice, but she wasn’t sure if she was keen in leaving this little compartment, the only place she had really ever known other than her dorm room, behind.

From the quick observation of her work area, she then took a glance at the woman in front of her. She was a pretty little brunette, large hazel eyes making her look far too young for the military, tiny in size enough so that it seemed the very air pressure in the atmosphere around them could crush her. Curiosity got the best of Riza in spite of the fact she was against being nosy. “What’s your name, miss?”

The young woman glanced away, hesitant. Almost as if she had been told not to tell and yet here was another superior officer contradicting that order. Either that, or she was just shy. “P-Private Diggory,” she finally mumbled under her breath.


The young woman seemed to regain her wits about her and stood at full attention.
“Private Diggory, ma’am!” she repeated, louder and clearer.

Riza’s eyes narrowed, suspicions confirmed. So, he sends a Private, she thought grimly. Of course, it was not uncommon for those high enough on the ladder to use those lowest in the military as their personal gophers. Still, it wasn’t a very respectable view-point as many Privates had been forced to do unspeakable things in the past because they had no power to say otherwise. It definitely did not make a good impression on Riza Hawkeye as she pursed her lips together in disapproval.

“At ease, Private,” she said as an indication that Diggory could now go back to wherever it was she came from so Hawkeye could pack up her things in peace. However, even though Diggory did relax, she remained rooted to the spot, staring at Riza expectantly.

“Yes, Private?”

“The Lieutenant Colonel said that I am supposed to escort you to his office.”

This time Riza’s surprise did show on her face. “What!?” she exclaimed, and Diggory cringed. “He wants me to move all my stuff NOW!?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Diggory replied, her shakiness quickly returning. “T-that’s what he told me to tell you.”

Riza growled under her breath as she began gathering books and sheets and pictures into an uncharacteristic pile of rubbish as she was too angry and too much in a hurry to sort them out neatly. Damn that man’s arrogance! Believing she was just going to drop everything at his leisure so that--

“And he wants you to move dorms, too. Tonight. You’ll be staying in the eastern quarters, closer to the building.”

Okay. This was too much!

“Take me to him,” she ordered, stopping in mid-gathering of the pile. If Mustang was expecting her to make a big move like that all in one day, he had another thing coming. Now, telling him off would be a complete no-no as much as she would love to. However, apparently this man did not see reason and it was best if she went to him and pleaded with him to give her a few days to make such a move.

Diggory blanched. “What…?” she squeaked, completely forgetting her role.

“I ordered you to take me to the Lieutenant Colonel, Private,” Riza hissed to which Diggory made shaky “Y-y-yes, M-ma’am!” and turned on her heel to lead the way. Nothing against the poor girl, but Hawkeye was boiling inside and didn’t have time to spare sympathy to a timid Private.

Ignoring the fact that the entire scene before had been watched by the curious onlookers that shared this room, Riza followed Diggory up to the fourth floor of the building where the Lieutenant Colonel’s office was. Her heart was racing like mad as her mind tried to predict all that could happen.

He would give her time, of course he would! Surely he couldn’t be completely unreasonable; perhaps he just didn’t know how hectic it could be for her to move and make deadlines. Yes, that was it. He just didn’t know. And Riza herself wouldn’t have to go into an elaborate speech just to make him listen. Simply ask if he could give a few days. Even two would do quite nicely. If she was quick, she was pretty sure she could have everything all prepared by tomorrow evening.

They stepped into the fourth floor only to be greeted by pandemonium. Two security officers were dragging a furiously struggling female from the door at the end of the hall, other doors opened with the heads of more curious onlookers watching the battle unfold. “You bastard! You can’t do this to me!”

“I can, and I will,” came another voice that was surprisingly smooth, deep, and, much to Riza’s unwanted enjoyment, quite sexy. “I’m the Lieutenant Colonel. I give the orders, my dear, not a lowly 2nd Lieutenant like you.”

Riza’s heart, which had been thundering madly before, now nearly ceased altogether. This woman…was a 2nd Lieutenant…just like herself? Her eyes went wide with shocked realization. Then that must mean-!

“But I’ve been with you for so long! I did everything for you!”

Another head appeared but it was too far away for Riza to decipher its features. Then in a voice not-so-smooth and more nasty than sexy, it answered, “You were only with me for two months and your work is unsatisfactory. Do not fight it, 2nd Lieutenant, I have already found your replacement.”

Now Riza’s heart made a clenching motion as she felt a pair of eyes boring deeply at her. The antagonist of the oral war also turned her head to glare at Riza, and she could see disheveled reddish-brown hair and hatred in her eyes. “HER!? You replaced ME with that skanky railing!?!”

Riza’s brows furrowed. Railing?

“It’s not your decision of who I replace you with,” came the retort, once again back to its smooth tone. “The point is, I’m replacing you. Now get out of here, or I will have you court-martialed.”

Diggory stepped aside and Riza followed suit as the guards escorted the enraged woman in their direction. No longer distracted by the heated dialogue, Riza suddenly realized the state of this woman’s attire as they walked past.

The uniform top was a short-sleeve, much slimmer, and apparently made of lesser material then the normal one; not tight by any stretch of the imagination but allowing the woman’s upper curves to be seen more clearly. The most shocking feature, however, was the bottom half of the uniform. The pants were absent and looked as though the tails that also were worn had apparently been cut very, very considerably and sewn together to form a skirt.

Probably the sleaziest looking miniskirt Riza had ever seen in her life.

In fact, as she glanced quickly at the woman’s backside and tried not to look conspicuous about it, any higher and her underwear would be seen!

Riza went pale. What the in the world was that woman wearing!? Of course, maybe her attire was why she was being demoted in the first place.

Yet, a tiny part of her nagged that this was not the case.

With everything settled, all the heads disappeared back into their offices, doors shutting softly. Even the head of the Lieutenant Colonel had vanished, leaving Riza and Diggory the only ones breathing in this particular hallway. Diggory started off without a word, and Riza remained close behind her, now more nervous than ever. “Who was that?” she inquired. They still had several yards before approaching the door that would reveal her newfound fate.

“2nd Lieutenant Clarissa Rutherford,” Diggory replied, her tone no longer timid but…actually, there was no tone in her voice at all. “She was the aide to Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. You’re replacing her.”

Riza felt cold all over, not just at Rutherford’s rage, but that uniform she wore. No, the trouble she got into had nothing to do with the uniform. She wouldn’t even be allowed in the building in that thing unless a higher-up said otherwise.

And three guesses as to who that certain “higher-up” was…

But…but even a Lieutenant Colonel couldn’t possess that much authority…could he?

Before reaching the door, Diggory suddenly pulled Riza to the side, whispering under her breath that Riza had to lean in close in order to hear, “Forgive my blatant act, ma’am, but I must say this. Be careful. Lieutenant Colonel Mustang is not a very popular man among the other officers because of the personal favor he has won from the Fuehrer.”

Riza blinked, completely startled.

“It is because of this favor that the Fuehrer tends to--pardon the expression--turn a blind eye to Mustang’s actions.”

Riza’s heart sank down to the pit of her gut. So he was responsible for that uniform! But did he force Rutherford to wear it, or had she been given a choice?

“Just please be careful with him,” Diggory pleaded, hazel eyes next to begging. “I don’t want you to turn out like all those others…” She trailed off.

“Others?” Riza prompted, interest and a little morbid excitement etching in her tone.

However, the door opened before Diggory could elaborate and an officer that Riza recognized to be Major Maes Hughes looked at them passively. “The Lieutenant Colonel will see you now, 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he announced, then his eyes leapt from her to Diggory. “You may leave now, Private. Return to your normal duties.”

“Yes, sir,” Diggory replied and marched back the way she and Riza had come, leaving the other woman completely on her own and slightly confused. Hughes had acted as though she had been expected…but surely the Lieutenant Colonel did not expect her so soon.

Swallowing invisibly, Riza brushed past Hughes and entered the office. Compared to the windowless hallway, the sunlight streaming through the windows behind the desk was blinding and she could not see who sat there before them. “Please give us a moment alone, Major,” Mustang requested and Hughes moved to grant it. Before leaving, he glanced at Riza and for a fleeting moment she saw his expression soften to--what? Sympathy? Pity? Remorse? For what?

“Close the door, Hawkeye,” came the newest command from the shadow behind the desk. Riza had to force several creative words to remain locked in her throat as she completed her order without hesitation, however her hand stayed on the knob longer than necessary as though about to jerk the door open again and race through it as far away from here as possible.

“Turn around, Hawkeye.”

That voice was far too smooth and silky to be real, sliding down the back of her neck with the twin effect of brushing fingers along the sensitive skin causing her to shiver slightly. She forced herself to remember that voices were deceiving, and this one probably belonged to some fat, old pervert with three chins who drooled all over himself every time he spoke--

By this time she had turned around, and the speaker had managed to close the blinds a little to help her eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. There was no way, no way, a voice that sexy could be matched by looks.

And yet, Riza Hawkeye found herself standing face-to-face with the most handsome creature she had ever encountered.

Riza went stiff as a board, unable to believe what she was seeing. Even as he stepped closer to her, her mind continued to hallucinate that Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang was breathlessly gorgeous with messy black hair and eyes just as dark, deep with unmentionable secrets. There was no way he could be Lieutenant Colonel. He looked too…too rebellious…Amongst the strict rules and methodical organization of the State, built on traditions that took centuries to mold into squeaky clean order, Mustang’s messy hair and boyish grin looked blindly out of place.

What kind of man was she dealing with here?

One that knows what he wants and can get away with it, a tiny voice inside her replied, recollecting Diggory’s announcement that the Fuehrer let Mustang do as he pleased.

And the fact he was downright screwable did not deflate his ego any.

“Have a seat, Hawkeye,” he continued to command in that delicious voice of his as he made himself comfortable in his own chair behind the desk, folding his hands together casually. She obeyed as she settled in a chair across from him, the desk in between. She had noted six other desks in the room that, judging by the various stages of mess, were occupied but the owners had departed sometime ago.

Just how long had she been expected?

Riza’s gaze had remained fixated on the Colonel all this time in order to look professional and matter-of-fact. It was then she realized that her gaze had evolved into something a little more intimate in spite of herself.

She was staring.

And given the soft chuckle he emitted when she glanced away, he knew she was staring at him. “Now, now, no need to be shy,” he chided gently. “After all, if we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, might as well get used it, right?”

Riza found herself glaring. What was that smirk for?

“Now, down to business,” Mustang continued, ignoring her expression. “You wanted to see me about something?”

Riza shoved her irritation aside now that her purpose for coming here had been shifted back into focus. Her heart started to increase in its rapid pace once more, but she was determined not to allow her nervousness to show. She wouldn’t be taken seriously that way. And if there was one point she wanted to make clear during this next exchange it was that she was serious.

“I wish to make a request, sir,” she began in a dead-pan.

He raised a brow when she paused. She couldn’t understand and didn’t like the way her wits were so easily unraveling around her under his piercing gaze. “I request an extra few days to move my things from my office and my dorm to my new locations. I do not think, sir, that only one night would be sufficient enough to relocate on such short notice.”

There. It was out. She had done what she could.

Mustang sat there for a moment, index fingers pointing upward from the rest of his enfolded fingers, tapping together lightly as he stared at them for what seemed to be inspiration. Riza felt her own fingers squeeze the edges of the chair ever so slightly and she moved them to her lap. She hadn’t realized how nerve-wracking it would be to wait for his answer, especially when he just sat there in perfect silence.

“Request denied,” he finally replied.

Riza resisted the urge to leap out of her chair. “Why not, sir?” she inquired, struggling to keep her temper under control. There was a mischievous twinkle in those dark eyes, and she knew he could tell she was biting at the bit to pound some sense into him.

“I have no aide at the moment other than you,” he explained simply, indifferent. “I need you here now. However, if you have a concern of getting all your things moved in time, do not worry. I have already sent others to collect them.”

Riza made a choking sound as she cut off the beginning of an outraged cry. Complete strangers touching her desk!? Going into her dorm and handling her property!? How dare this man take such liberties! Did he not know the meaning of “privacy”!?!

He seemed to read the fury in her eyes, and she shortly after discovered she had biting her bottom lip in her agitation. “I’m sure that your privacy will remain perfectly safe,” Mustang assured her. “Of course,” he added as an amused after-thought, “that’s not a guarantee…”

“Why can’t I move my own stuff?” Riza demanded, in a hysterical moment forgetting her place.

Mustang smiled at her. “You said so yourself you can’t move it all in one night,” he reminded her. “And please don’t take that tone with me, 2nd Lieutenant. It might…complicate matters.”

She blushed, knowing she had been out of line then. Still, the thought of someone else going through her personal belongings made her feel horrendously violated.

“Now that this matter is settled,” Mustang spoke up, “let’s move on. We need to talk about your new duties as my aide. They are simple. You simply do as you are told.”

There was a new tone in his voice now, almost predatory, as if he just cornered a juicy prize. Riza’s nerves shivered violently while the rest of her froze in place. It was not a pleasant feeling. What exactly did he mean by do as she was told? Simply carry out orders? What kind of orders? His tone had hinted that there was something more to his statement than he was letting on. Much more.

“First of all, you will be given a new uniform,” he announced, taking a box from next to his feet and handing it to her. She took it with slightly trembling hands, gut retching as the deepest part of her already knew what lay in this box. “You are to wear it at all times. If you do not, certain actions will have to be taken.”

She lifted her head from the box to stare at him. “What actions, sir?” she dared to ask.

Roy Mustang’s smile became deadly. “Punishments for insubordination.”

“Like what?”

He continued to smile.

Deciding that she could no longer stand looking at that hunting gaze, she opened the box, folded aside the tissue paper and revealed the blue fabric from within.

She knew it! It was that cursed miniskirt, after all!

“I am not wearing this,” Riza snapped, shoving the miniskirt back into the box.

She expected him to be angry, but Mustang’s smile only widened. “I’m afraid you have no choice, my dear,” he purred.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” she snapped, her rage overpowering common sense and the fact that this was her superior officer she was talking to. As far as she was concerned, no punishment could be worse than having to wear that abomination.

Riza was about to discover that with Roy Mustang, there were worse things than wearing a skimpy miniskirt. An arm suddenly shot forward and pulled her almost clean across the desk, and, with her lower abdomen digging painfully against the furniture’s edge, she discovered that Mustang had managed to stand up out of his chair and grab her by the front of her shirt before she could even register that he had moved. For a flickering moment, she could see his eyes glinting devilishly into her own, and next thing she knew, his lips pressing against hers. Riza squeaked, surprised by his brass and that he was a lot warmer than she thought he would be given his pompous attitude.

She tried to grab his shoulders in order to push him away, but in the process lost her balance and only ended up falling further into him and arms that tried to block him now clung to his neck for support. And when she opened her mouth to protest, Mustang seized the opportunity to invade her with his tongue, probing through her recesses without invite.

Riza now more than ever felt violated, and tears of frustration began to gather in her eyes. He was far stronger than she was, superior to her, and the fact that because of this he could do with her as he pleased made her angry enough to want to bawl.

Or maybe the fact that her body was starting to awaken by his advances made her want to cry even more.

At first, as his lips drifted from her mouth to her neck, she was too breathless and shell-shocked to say anything. But as one of his hands moved to unbutton her jacket--

“NO! Get off! Get off, or I’ll scream!!”

She was too desperate to get out of this situation to realize that she screaming at him anyway, and her voice was loud enough to carry down the hall. The problem was, nobody came to her rescue.

Mustang pulled away from her, staring at her with an almost triumphant glimmer. “Go ahead and scream,” he sneered viciously. “Nobody will save you. Nobody cares. I can do what I want and there is nobody out there that can do anything about it.”

“I can,” she growled.

“Oh, please do.”

His arrogance was overriding all her senses and next thing she knew, her hand reared back and slapped him as hard as she could muster. For a gunslinger like herself, that was pretty hard, enough to knock him to the side and release his grip on her. Support gone, she fell forward onto the desk and, ignoring the pain in her sides and chest, jumped back several feet to maintain a good distance between herself and this monster. Her chest was heaving for air, a physical movement that he was feasting on hungrily in spite of the blow he had received.

“I like it when you breathe like that.”

All the color drained from her face. Nothing was going to hold this guy back! Realizing she was standing near the door, her arm reached behind her and fumbled for the knob.

“You can’t get out, Hawkeye,” Mustang spoke up casually. “The door locked as soon as you shut it.”

If she had been scared before, she was now petrified and beads of sweat tickled her brow. Leering at her, he gingerly touched his face where a tell-tale red hand print glowed angrily on his cheek. “You’ve got brass, little girl,” he chuckled. “And I think I like it.”

In a few quick strides he was standing right in front of her again. “You’re new, a first timer,” he declared snidely. “I could tell because of the way you kissed.”

Riza blushed even redder than before, and looked away with shame and embarrassment. Wasn’t her fault she hadn’t ever kissed a guy before! Until two minutes ago at any rate.

“Therefore, I won’t punish you for what you just did,” he continued. “In fact, I encourage your behavior.”

He shoved her against the door, using his hands to pin her wrists at each side of her head. “So beautiful,” he breathed against her ear. “And so different. This is definitely going to be fun.”

Her own breathing caught in her throat. This Mustang guy was sick. Sick and twisted, in desperate need of help. She struggled against his hold, but that only seemed to encourage him further. “A little anxious, aren’t we, my dear?” he inquired in that damning, mocking laugh of his. Riza had a feeling she would dislike Mustang, but even never expected her dislike would evolve into utter loathing.

“You don’t like me, do you, Hawkeye?” he asked as though he had read her thoughts, tilting his head to one side thoughtfully.

“You think?” Riza spat, not caring about propriety anymore. As far as she was concerned, this man before her was not worthy of her respect.

“That’s too bad,” he sighed dramatically. “I really did wish you and I could become friends.”

Her own laugh emerged, though, giving the severity of her entrapped situation, it came out a little more hysterical than scornful. Friends with this bastard? He really was whacko!

“All right, let’s make a deal then.”

Now she dared to lift her eyes into his. She didn’t trust him, but he was right. She had no control. None at all. “What is it?” she snarled.

“As long as you wear that miniskirt, I won’t touch you.”

Riza blinked in surprise. That was an odd deal, and yet she strangely expected that he would say something like this. Hell, he probably had been planning this from the very beginning. “You mean--” She drifted off.

“I won’t kiss you, touch you, even come near you,” Mustang explained. “So, as long as you wear that skirt, you are safe from me.”

She glared at him as viciously as she could muster. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“It’s written in the contract both you and I will sign that officially marks you as my aide. Even I don’t go against a contract.” The sweetness in his tone dripped like venomous honey onto her ears.

“And what happens if I refuse?”

His grin went as wide as she had ever seen it as though he had been waiting for her to ask. “Remember when I said I would punish you for insubordination if you refuse to do as I say?” He waited for her to nod in confirmation before slamming her against the door, pressing their pelvises tightly together. She chocked down a silent gasp when he slowly began to grind into her. “It also says in the contract that if at any time you should not be wearing that miniskirt, I have the unlimited privilege of doing anything I please with you. And I mean anything.”

He released her wrists, which were now bruised and sore, and stepped back from her. “So…do we have a deal, 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye?”
Wow.......I mean, wow. This is....different. And sick. Yes. *eye twitch* This is going to be very interesting.
Glam, just wow. It seem much more about a miniskirt now, and nice job making roy a 150% bastard *gives cookie* XPP This story is um very different from the other royai stories I read, but I'm sorta excited to find out what happens next =X
Oh ya, he is for sure a bastard.
foolmetal alchemist
This is a veeerrry strange story. blink.gif I'm getting freaked out, but I haven't thrown up all over my keyboard yet.
I get the feeling that I am going to end up throwing up all over the keyboard. Why do I get this feeling.....?
I do feel something inside that I cant quite explain but you are doing a great job on this one. seriusly. I love it in a sick and twisted kind of way. Yeah.
Phyco girl
I agree with andeebear. Well written although pretty sick. Oh well. Don't read it if you don't like it, eh? Good job on making Roy super repulsive. 2 thumbs up!

Oh my. No, I mean really. Oh my God. I've been addicted to Shardy's other fics...especially MCP and the Furher's Daughter...but I had no idea She could be this dirty...

*thinks back to MCP*

Nevermind. Keep it up though! tongue.gif
Um.. when are you goona keep writing?
QUOTE(andeebear @ May 30 2005, 01:52 AM)
I do feel something inside that I cant quite explain but you are doing a great job on this one. seriusly. I love it in a sick and twisted kind of way. Yeah.

Same feeling as you andeebear. Sick, but highly great job. And I still haven't thrown up yet, nope, not yet. I wanna know what Riza would do next.. he he he..
Must...have...mooooree...the suspense is killing me!
QUOTE(Luckyalchemy27 @ May 31 2005, 04:29 PM)
Must...have...mooooree...the suspense is killing me!

So true!

Me so sorry this took forever and a day to update. Turns out when trying to properly exert character torture and all-out cruelity, one must be a certain mood. ^^;;

This chapter is SQUICKY!!! Nothing explicint, but enough to make the more immature have a metal breakdown.

Then again, didn't I already tell you people that this wasn't exactly a worksafe fic? Well, I'm telling you now, and while I won't post NC-17 material, there will still be some stuff that are definitely not kiddie friendly.

Consider this a warning. Don't like it, you can skim. Or just not read at all. Don't go complaining to me if you read something you can't stomach. I warned you from the beginning and I'm warning you now.

Oh, and as a side thought for a later scene, no it's NOT edited. Mustang DOES NOT do what you might think he did and I just cut it out. It didn't happen.


Chapter Three


For a week, amazingly as it seemed, Mustang was good to his word…er, contract anyway. As promised in its written form, Riza wore the fabric of Mustang’s libido and in return, no matter how hard he leered and ogled at her and made her do things that would give him a good view, he did not once make any advance on her.

She supposed it was a good thing.

The problem, instead of being erased completely, now had shifted over to a new indignation; she had to carry out her duties throughout the entire building wearing that cursed miniskirt attached to her like some sexual parasite. And Mustang certainly had no problem sending her to the most crowded places, including one of her more hated daily assignments of fetching him lunch from the mess hall. More than a few soldiers stared at her as she walked by pretending with much difficulty that they didn’t exist. Her determination to believe that nothing was out of the ordinary did nothing to stifle the cat-calls and jeers from the immature personnel. And if it wasn’t the guys, it was the whispers of “slut” and “whore” from the more vindictive female officers who did not seem to understand her situation. Even the subordinates who used to fear her now sniggered behind her back when they thought she couldn’t hear.

This was the punishment, she had decided. The real penalty here was given by not sleeping with him instead of the other way around. So, in retribution, he was forcing her to endure severe humiliation by wearing that damn miniskirt.

Sitting on her bed in her new dorm that, thankfully, she shared only with herself, Riza couldn’t help but look at it as it lay neatly folded over her top on a chair, ready to be shackled around her waist the next morning. That miniskirt was really running her life, wasn’t it?

In a fit of anger, she punched her pillow as hard as she could. There had to be a way out of this! There just HAD to be! Jumping up to her feet, Riza grabbed the copy of the contract she had signed from the dresser top and skimmed over the fine print. There had to be a loophole somewhere. Anywhere. Some tiny little detail that could be easily overlooked upon first glance and yet could hold some kind of leverage over Mustang, maybe even enough to beat him at his own twisted game.

And she found one…


Turned out black went well with the blue hue of this uniform, and as ridiculous as wearing pants with a miniskirt sounded, these particular tight slacks looked rather fashionable with the rest of her uniform. With a newfound confidence, Riza marched into Mustang’s office for the continuation of her new duties as his aide. Of course, she wasn’t expecting to get away with this. However, no matter the outcome, at least he would know that she was not about to give into him without a fight.

Indeed, even he could not hide his expression of surprise and disbelief when she arrived. “Good morning, Lieutenant Colonel,” she greeted in an almost sing-song tone. She was taking it a little far, she knew. How did the expression go? Something about walking on eggshells?

More like broken glass. She was practically slicing her own vein. Oh, well. Why not milk it for all its worth? The current look on his face was far too priceless to let go of so quickly.

And she was not at all inaccurate; Mustang was stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. Never, since he first started this little game of his, had any of his aides had the spine to defy him right in his face!

“Hawkeye,” he began in a warning tone, making sure that any hint of amazement was erased. He could not allow her to see that her little act of exactly what she had been warned about not doing impressed him. “What are you wearing?”

“My uniform,” Riza replied casually as she began sorting out the files she had been carrying into alphabetical order in the cabinet. “I got the manifestos you wanted from Ross. I’d hurry if I were you, General Hakuro’s been demanding--”

“I don’t seem to recall those pants being a part of your uniform,” Mustang interrupted with a quirked brow, still pretending to disapprove.

“Oh, these?” Riza inquired, feigning ignorance as she glanced down at her slacks. “Well, I figured they would go well seeing how it’s becoming colder outside and all.” She even went so far as to strike a pose for him. “Do you think they’re stylish?”

Oh, she dared! She DARED! Mustang could not resist the snarling smirk that curled on his face. “And what if I ordered you to take off those pants?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why you should,” she replied, running with this as far as her guts would allow. “After all, the contract clearly states that I am to wear this miniskirt at all times.” She made a gesture at the clothing of conversation. “Well, I’m wearing it now. And the contract never said anything about wearing clothes under the skirt.”

Just how late had she been up last night looking for that loophole? Sure, Mustang had known of its existence since the first copy of that contract soon as he pulled it still-warm from the printer. He was the one who had written the contract himself; he deliberately put that loophole there, mainly as a test. It was hardly a shocker that none of the other bimbos who had worked for him had caught onto it.

Then again, all the others had been more than willing to sport a miniskirt before his vision. It was because of this that he had grown quickly bored with them. He wanted a challenge and the others unfortunately did not possess enough brains to make the intricate theorems of human transmutation look complicated.

But Riza Hawkeye…he knew she was special. Even back when Rutherford first started working for him, Mustang already had his eyes on the firearms mistress. Unfortunately, she had been too low in rank at the time, and only 2nd Lieutenants or higher could serve as aides to those at and above Lieutenant Colonel.

Needless to say, Mustang had made sure to change that right quick…

Smirk merging into a sadistic sneer, Mustang walked around the desk and stood next to her, arms folded across his chest. She couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes to meet his. His very aura threatened to suffocate her. “Well, I am ordering you to take off those pants.”

She could just surrender, stop while she was ahead.

But that would be too easy.

“Why don’t you make me?” Riza blurted haughtily, words popping out of her mouth before she could even think of what she was saying.

It was better than he could ever dream of. He stepped closer to her until her back was flat against the cabinet. Oh, great. Barely even a week since their first meeting and once more Riza found herself trapped in between Mustang and something solid. Even so, she still wore her rebellious mask. She wasn’t going to give in, not now! She had gone too far already. She was going all the way even if it meant she was going to wake up from being knocked unconscious to find herself no longer a virgin.

Long fingers hooked themselves over the edge of her pants, invisible under the skirt’s folds as he whispered, “Then I guess I’ll have to take them off for you.” Soon as she could decipher his meaning, he had already begun sliding her slacks down her legs, kneeling downward to his own knees. Inexperienced curiosity got the best of her in spite of her good sense. When her pants reached her ankles, he did not stand up or order her to step out of them. In fact, he lifted his face a little and she jerked stiffly when he began softly kissing the back of her knee.

Flaring heat raged over her face as Riza gripped the edges of the cabinet behind her for support. “Wha--what are y-you doing!?” she exclaimed, breathing a little heavier than she intended.

Mustang said nothing, eyes closed as his lips rolled higher along her inner leg, using his tongue to taste her skin. She was soft, and warm. For the first time in years, he could feel his blood boil with incomprehensible desire. Never had any of his boring, trashy aides made him feel like this. This woman, on the other hand, wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t slutty. She wasn’t boring. She could easily cave into him, certainly, but at least not without standing up for herself. And that was what made her different, exciting, sexy…

Even all her nerves she steeled over time and again to avoid giving into her emotions could not stand up to his administrations upon her body. The neurons fired off blinding explosions, both warnings and sensational, the foreboding danger of it all making it that much more stimulating. His mouth continued its hungry ascent up her leg, now almost to her thigh. She couldn’t decide which was more shocking: the fact he was committing this appalling act or that he was completely gentle about it. His kisses were barely more than teasing nips to her sensitive flesh that stung but did not hurt her. She found, much to her dismay, that she was completely out of breath, face burning with sensations beyond her control, and body screaming for more of what this man had to offer. She couldn’t--she just couldn’t let him! She had to find a stronghold.

“Lieutenant…C-colonel…” What began as a protest only emerged as a plea, and yet, in spite of the inaccurate signal, the desired response was reached.

He stopped, barely halfway up her thigh.

“Why don’t you call me by my name?” he breathed huskily.

It escaped for she could stop it, too dizzy with new and heavy feelings to keep up her defenses. “R…Roy…”

He stood up. It was then her mind clicked back to reality even as her body deflated a little with disappointment. He took her chin within his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face a little to meet his gaze eye-to-eye. “When we’re alone together,” he commanded sternly, “that is how you’ll address me. Now return to your assignments, 2nd Lieutenant. And don’t let me catch you wearing pants or anything other than private ware under that skirt. Next time, I won’t be as lenient.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what made him be so lenient now. Why did he stop what he was doing? She defied an order and the contract clearly stated--

Well, now she knew that he was being serious. The fact that he was allowing himself to do anything he pleased with her should she defy him definitely was not a bluff. He grinned down at her, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’d be careful if I were you, Riza darling,” he whispered. “You are playing a very dangerous game.”

For a moment, she could only stare at him speechless as he sauntered haughtily back to his desk, dark head held high in a moment of victory. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she thought for sure he could hear it thus the reason for his triumphant display. Her eyes glared invisible lances deep into his spinal column.

Bastard. He hadn’t won yet. He had merely caught her off-guard, taking advantage of the fact she was inexperienced with men and therefore unable to have developed a proper resistance to him.

Grabbing the several papers that needed to be delivered to the copy room, she yelled at him, “I am not your darling!” before slamming the door behind her as hard as she could. Laughter was the only response.


Two more days went by, and all that time when she wasn’t working, Riza holed herself up in her room trying to figure out how to beat Mustang. She had to admit that she had never been kept on her toes in all her life like this before she met the Lieutenant Colonel.

Of course, this did not mean she enjoyed it!

Especially since the days were becoming much colder. And this miniskirt hardly had any material to begin with much less proper insulation. Shivering, Riza snuggled deeper into her black trench coat that most in the military wore during the chilly months, on her way to the office for yet another trying day with that insufferable beast that lorded over the fourth floor of the main building. By the time she checked in at the front desk, her legs were practically icicles as even the coat that hung over them had not been enough to provide warmth. Needless to say, she was shaking violently in spite of the heat swirling throughout the edifice.

Her concern to become warm as soon as possible took top priority in her mind that when she finally arrived at her designated hallway, she had completely forgotten to take off her overcoat. Her shaking fingers pushed the door open and no sooner did she enter the room than a distinctive “ahem!” met her ears.

The room was not as empty this time; Jean Havoc occupied one of the desks, smoke curling upward from his faithful cigarette, glancing up at her momentarily before returning to his paperwork. Kain Fury gave her a small, friendly smile then quickly looked away. She was a little disappointed to see that Hughes was not present. He seemed to be the only one around here who actually acknowledged her existence and tried not to make her life a living hell because of it. Fury was nice enough to her, but seemed to act more out of fear than anything. And she knew Havoc was staring at her whenever he thought she couldn’t notice, his gaze almost as hungry as Mustang’s.

“Ahem!” the sound came again as Riza hadn’t answered the first time she heard it. Not like she didn’t already know who was trying so desperately to get her attention. Riza continued to pretend she couldn’t hear him as she placed her folders and papers on her desk across from Havoc.

“Hawkeye,” Mustang finally spoke up firmly, slightly miffed that she was doing a good job of ignoring him. At last she looked at him, blinking in a convincingly surprised expression like she honestly hadn’t realized he had been calling her.

“Yes, sir?”

“You are violating your dress code again.”

From the corner of her eye, Riza could see Fury try to scrunch himself into an even smaller ball in his chair, and Havoc sneezed which caused his cigarette to pop out of his mouth.

She was going to be calm today. No way was she going to allow Mustang under her skin. That was how he managed to trap her last time. And she doubted it would be beneath him to pounce on her with two witnesses in the room. “In case you haven’t received today’s weather report, sir, temperatures have dropped to 20 or 30 degrees,” she explained coolly. “I am freezing in this uniform and since I really wish not to catch pneumonia, I request, sir, that you will allow me wear my overcoat during these cold months.”

She paused as he continued to stare at her silently, expressionlessly, then added as a quick afterthought, “There is nothing in the contract that says I can’t wear anything over the miniskirt.”

Now Havoc and Fury made no attempt to hide their eavesdropping, listening in hushed suspense for what Mustang was going to say next. Riza already knew the answer; this bastard was too predictable. Still, she supposed it was worth the--



“Pardon?” Riza gasped.

“Today, you can wear your overcoat. You are right. It is a cold day and I can’t afford to allow you to get sick. And I’m afraid the heating system in this building isn’t really up to par.”

She gawked at him. Here she was defying his direct orders, and, once again, he hardly did anything about it. Her crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion as she went about her normal business. He was up to something. No doubt some overly cruel idea at her expense.

A couple of hours later, Riza returned to the office to deliver yet more paperwork for Mustang to sign and the moment she opened the door, she was greeted by a blast of heat. She supposed they finally managed to make the heat circulate again, though why at such an uncomfortable temperature was anyone’s guess. Poor Havoc and Fury both looked like they were going to die from heat stroke and tried not to show it. Mustang, who was working on something that probably required intense concentration judging by his furrowed brows, seemed to be the only one who did not look bothered by sitting in full uniform in a room with the equivalence to a sauna. Then again, considering his title as the Flame Alchemist, it was no brainer that he should feel right at home.

“I have more papers for you, sir,” she announced, acting as though there was nothing abnormal about the suffocating temperature of the tiny office. He made a gesturing motion with his hand for her to set them on his desk somewhere he could find them easily. As she did so, she happened to glance over at what it was Mustang was working on with such absorbed determination.

A self-challenge game of tic-tac-toe.

Not only was he a pervert, he was lazy too!

It was not her place, but something made her open up her mouth. She just had to say something. “Sir, I really think you should get to work on those papers,” she stated. He glared up at her, unhappy that she interrupted his game. “Hakuro is about to throw a fit,” she continued, ignoring his expression. “He says that if you don’t turn in those manifestos by tomorrow afternoon, there will be--pardon my language-- hell to pay.”

His glare became downright ugly. “Don’t tell me how to do my job,” he snapped, and went back to placing an ‘X’ in the middle square, causing yet another draw with himself.

Fine. May this be the last time she ever gave him advice! Let him get demoted for all she cared. In fact, she hoped he would. Then she would be free from him and his uncontrollable sex drive!

Over a period of what was probably nothing more than twenty minutes, Hawkeye worked diligently at her desk, growing increasingly uncomfortable. She wanted to be warm, but not she was boiling inside and her overcoat clung to her like a second skin. Finally, she found a pausing point and put down her pencil to take off her coat.

“What are you doing?” Mustang demanded.

She jumped slightly at his tone. “I’m just taking off my coat, sir,” she explained, puzzled. “It’s incredibly hot in here.”

“Oh, dear, would you look at that!” Havoc exclaimed suddenly as he stood up, pointing exaggeratingly at his pocket. “I’m outta cigarettes! Be right back!” And he bolted out of the office.

“And I have a few things to get to Brenda and Falman,” Fury added, and followed Havoc’s heels.

Now it was just Mustang and Hawkeye.

Riza glanced at Mustang, who smirked at her. “First you were complaining about it being cold, and now you say it’s too hot. Well, that’s just too damn bad. You were so hell-bent to wear your coat, earlier, and I let you keep it on. I can’t just go back on my word, you know.”


“I am ordering you to keep your coat on, Hawkeye,” he snapped viciously. “Think of it as a lesson.”

Riza jumped to her feet as she yelled, “You bastard, I’m practically suffocating!”

He shrugged, indifferent to her comfort or lack thereof. “Not my problem.” And that was the end of that.

By the end of the day, Riza was drenched with sweat. And she knew the others could smell her by the way their noses were crinkled slightly though they were too polite (or too scared) to say anything about it. Her conclusion was confirmed when they each zipped out the door at the end of the day.

Mustang left as well, ordering her to lock up once she was finished. As she gathered up her things, entertaining gory daydreams of Mustang’s untimely demise she happened to glance at his desk. Amongst the paperwork sat a white sheet covered with 6-squared grids, crossed lines, and X’s and O’s. A few poorly sketched puppies danced in the corners.

What interested her the most was the papers lying beneath the evidence of procrastination. Lifting the top paper up, she was greeted by several manifestos needed to be delivered to Hakuro, ones she recognized that she had given to him earlier today.

They were all filled out. All signed. All ready to be delivered to Hakuro by tomorrow’s deadline.
[[double post]]

*points to site* The site did it....
*jaw drops* My god, he's a perfect bastard!
That was so good! :3 I want another chapter now, it's driving me nuts. :3
Very nice.
*pulls out dagger and holds it at the ready* UPDATE, DAMMIT! LUCKY WANTS MORE!!!!!
Wow! This is so good!
Please update soon!

And Roy is a complete bastard!
Mustang's Apprentice
Wow, I'm actually enjoying this, I have no idea why.

Hurry up and update already!!!!!
foolmetal alchemist
Shardy has abandoned all fanfics of her creation!!
SHARDY! sad.gif sad.gif Are you going to post the next chapter?Don't rush but post as soo n as you complete it! biggrin.gif
*dies* I think I'm actually gonna die! MUSTANG IS THE BIGGEST BASTARD I'VE EVER SEEN!
This is such a great fic! My stomach is churning coz I feel so helpless for Riza!
that was a bit sick....... blink.gif but very amusing.....where is Riza's self defence!? mad.gif She's should be the one life threating! hello? She points guns to her co-workers heads! Update soon!
Wow. I'm in love with this fic. I love the sexual tension bewtween them. And Mustang is just horrible! I guess it could be considered sick, but in a way I'm used to portraying situations like this. I really do hope you continue it. I really like it.


sara loves this fic like she loves you!! ^_______^
Shardy, please update. Please? Please? Your loyal boardlurkers are anxiously awaiting. Please? I won't stop asking until you do! *throws a hissy fit*
Wah! More more!!! I love it! I don't get those people who think it's aweful there totally wrong!!! Post more!!
awwwwwwws!! still no post?! *cries*
i love this fic please post more soon!!
Must I declare internet war?!I want to hear the rest! And man I wouldn't let anyone act that way tword me. I would'a poped a cap in ass!
I swear to god that if Shardy doesn't update soon, I will annoy her until she DIES. *eye twitch*
-Claws fanfic.- MOREMORE. >O
Um as much as I love this story to death and would love for Shardy to update, I wouldn't rush her or anything. Being an author of multi-chaptered stories myself I know it can take a long while to update. And being the fan of many great authors on ff.n I've become paitient in waiting for them to update. And often it months at a time. But then again that's me.

Shardy we all hope you continue this soon. But don't feel rushed or anything please. ^^
*pulls out my ULTRA UBER RED MONKEY WRENCH OF DOOM* I swear, I hate it when people rush me, and if anyone else rushes Shardy, they'll answer to me and I will kill you with this wrench! just ask some of my friends and they will show you their scars. >O so no more rushing Shardy!
A whole month already, but no update!? Come on, it doesn't take that long, I need update NOW! I love this fanfic!
QUOTE(Kazer @ Jul 24 2005, 11:31 AM)
A whole month already, but no update!? Come on, it doesn't take that long, I need update NOW! I love this fanfic!

yah it does. '_' I haven't updated in a year.
But Shardy's usually so good about updating quickly! *cries in her dark, lonely corner*
ANSWER DANMIT!!!!!!!!GRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!My army is very angry.Do I have to ready the cannons, I'll ready the cannons! DUDE!!!ANSWER!!!!ANGRY!YOUR MAKING ME VERY VERY ANGRY!!!!!
QUOTE(Fresh_Coffee @ Jul 24 2005, 08:25 PM)
QUOTE(Kazer @ Jul 24 2005, 11:31 AM)
A whole month already, but no update!? Come on, it doesn't take that long, I need update NOW! I love this fanfic!

yah it does. '_' I haven't updated in a year.

I know what you mean. I think the last time I updated one of my ongoing fanfics on ff.n was last May. And it's a pretty popular one too. But I have writers block with it.

I'm sure Shardy's happy everyone likes her story so much. But give her some time. It really sucks to be rushed, because when that happens more often than not the author comes out with crap just to please the demands of the fans. And it's irritating to the author I'd bet. I know it is for me sometimes.
Water Achemist
Please write more....
I know it takes a while to write fanfics, but at least provide us with some info about the progress! When there is nothing from the author for a while, I sometimes think that they abandoned the story. sad.gif
UPDATE MORTAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!GRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!
Mustang's Apprentice
I honestly think Shardy has abandoned his fic.

This is probably my favorite fanfic on the boards, but I don't think Shardy wants to continue it.
Frozen Ice Alchemist
I reaaly like teh fic....sad.gif
PLEASE POST!!! IM STILL WAITING sad.gif sad.gif sad.gif sad.gif
i personally fail to see how it's fanfiction. mustang and hawkeye are so grossly OOC that it might as well be an original story. *shrug*
TSilver Fox
QUOTE(Guest @ Jul 28 2005, 07:48 PM)
i personally fail to see how it's fanfiction.  mustang and hawkeye are so grossly OOC that it might as well be an original story.  *shrug*

I think that is part of the idea to this Shardy story.
It's a Royai Original, but it's still a fan based fic,
as it's characters are not Shardy's own. smile.gif

Just my humble opinion. happy.gif
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