#royai fluff

[booklovingturtle]

Summary: After a night out with the team, Riza Hawkeye kindly offers to teach Roy Mustang how to cook. They've worked together for so long in the office that they find that working together in the kitchen is better and worse in unexpected ways.

Chapters: 8/8 (COMPLETED)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist (Live Action) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Additional Tags: royai fluff, Royai - Freeform, Slow Burn, Cooking Lessons, Bad Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss

[chewytran]

we’ll keep each other warm ❤️

[beesbeesdragons]

In the housewife!roy au, I am writing that he does still finish the military academy. he becomes a state alchemist. but he isn't a combat based one. no. he becomes a research alchemist.

he meets riza again, and he learns flame alchemy, and decides "this is my secret to keep, too." instead of demonstrating flame alchemy to the examiners, he shows off his rather impressive knowledge of medical alchemy.

now, the military is aware that he has dependants and is functionally a single parent. they don't wanna have to deal with the mess of paying for a nanny or whoever to take care of a six and seven year old while Roy is fighting in ishval, so instead, he is assigned to work under Marcoh.

now im not done reading the manga (am up to volume 5) so I'm saying that, until order 3066 was signed, marcoh and roy were stationed in central city, working at a lab. marcoh got sent out on field assignments, while roy stayed in central. because roy, who wants to protect the people he loves, who wants to protect his children, is studying medical alchemy.

but when order 3066 was signed, roy got deployed to ishval, where he met hawkeye. riza, who he hadn't been able to talk to in three years. riza, who he believes he failed. and he only finds her again because his alchemy is medically-based, so he's working with doctors and nurses in the hospitals. that's how he meets knox, after all, and maes, and everyone else.

after the war ends, after marcoh deserts, he resigns his post and proposes to riza. he fell in love with her in ishval, and together, he says, they can work towards rebuilding the country. but he can't hurt people anymore.

so riza suggests that, until he can get back on his feet, he stay home. he can take care of ed and al, who were nine and ten by this point. he can teach them alchemy, and he can live. because before? he was just surviving, before.

and he does. by god, he does. he learns to live again, and then he meets a talented alchemist, and decides to do what she does. he's a house-husband first and foremost, but he is an alchemist. and alchemist, be thou for the people.

he starts building up a network of the other parents at ed and al's school. most of them are the wives of military men, after all, and housewives are nothing if not gossip.

and they love him. this twenty-something newlywed with his two nephews who stays home while his wife (riza, beautiful, strong riza) defends their country? how could they not?

and he stays in contact with his sisters, though instead of dates (because he is nothing if not a doting husband and uncle father), theyre his friends. his sisters, his family. as Riza builds her team with Maes, he builds one of the largest intelligence networks in Amestris, big enough to rival even Madame Christmas's, made up entirely of housewives and the working women of amestris, who have always been so invisible that now, now that they're seen by someone? someone who has seen the worst of humanity and can still smile?

of course they support him. why wouldnt they? he's one of them, after all.

[smoothshine]

Riza and mini-Riza from this ask!

(Hehe, look at me actually finishing something, but it was indeed a very therapeutic colouring).

[sootyfeathers]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye Additional Tags: I am once again impulse posting at 2am, Royai Week, royai week 2023, Fluff, Royai - Freeform, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Promised Day, Post-Canon, Rain, Literal Sleeping Together, Couch Cuddles Summary:

The aftermath of the Promised Day leaves Roy and Riza in the midst of countless sleepless nights. Fortunately, neither of them have to spend this one alone.

(For the Fruits and Roots discord Royai Week — prompt used: “sleepless nights”)

[guileheroine]

i don't like it when the only valid, legitimate future fandoms can imagine for their favoured ships (especially het pairings but somehow even gay pairings) is like marriage at 25 and 3 biological kids

[lassusog]

Here's some Royai for you to think about, hehe 👀

"Did you really expect me to just stand by and watch?" - the question hung in the air, piercing the agonizing silence between them.

“Good book?”

Riza looks up from the page to find her Colonel on the threshold of her hospital’s room on her left. 

“The characters are having a fight,” she tells him and watches as he closes the door behind him and takes his coat off to drape it on the back of a chair beside her bed.

“Is it because he ripped his shirt?” he asks with barely concealed amusement as he makes himself comfortable on the chair.

Riza glances at the book’s cover, and in spite of herself, can’t help but smile. On it is a photograph of a muscular actor wearing a threadbare shirt that barely covers anything.

“It’s Rebecca’s,” she says pointedly, marking her page with a bookmark and setting it on her right side where he won’t be able to see it. “She brought it when she came in the morning.” 

“That was good of her,” he says, and then grins. “Now that you’re away from the office, you must miss looking at good-looking men.” He stretches shamelessly on his chair and shoots her a look of mock pity.

Riza considers throwing the book on his head. Instead, “You’re right, I do miss looking at my dog,” she answers, deadpan. 

“Touché,” he sighs, and she forgives him for his idiocy, because his smile – his real one, a bright and rare thing – stays, and it warms her in a way nothing else can.

“They’re letting me out tomorrow afternoon,” she says after a moment of comfortable quiet. 

He frowns. “Isn’t that a little soon?”

She bristles. “I’ve been here for four days, and only so they could check the concussion, which has mostly healed now,” she presses as she sees him open his mouth.

“Two days is hardly a long time for a patient recovering from a car crash,” he insists, and she watches his eyes follow the trail of bruises down one side of her face.

“A minor car crash,” she counters, “that I came out of with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist. Hardly something to get worked up about.” 

He takes in a measured breath. “And you say I handle injuries poorly,” he mutters.

“You wouldn’t have stayed twenty minutes if you were in my place,” she says drily. “And,” she begins before he can respond, “you can see I’m fine since you’ve been visiting every day since I’ve been admitted. Three times per day,” she adds at the end, light exasperation coating the words. 

He hums noncommittally, stubbornly refusing to give in. But, “Thrice a day is a perfectly normal number of times to visit,” he states with an air of authority. 

Riza raises her eyes to the heavens. “You are on a first-name basis with all my nurses and know their working hours by heart.” 

“It’s called being polite and observant, qualities that tend to be appreciated by most,” he fires back, indignantly. 

“I’m also going to assume you haven’t caught up on all the paperwork you neglect to come here every day,” she arches a brow.

For a moment she thinks she has him but then, “You say all those things but what I really hear is “I’m very glad you come here every day because your company is excellent, and brightens my dull hospital stay.”  

She tries to hold it in, but she lets out a laugh the likes of which only he can pull out of her, and at the sound of it he breaks into a smile that she could look at every day of her life and never get tired of.

“Says the man who visits three times a day,” she argues and there are traces of laughter in the words. 

Dramatically, he places a hand on his chest. “I think I’m being very brave about it.”

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut short by the door opening and one of her nurses peaking her head through it. 

“Visiting hours are over, I’m afraid,” she informs them and leaves the door open behind her meaningfully. 

“You are going to have to be brave about it again, it looks like,” she tells him, and he sighs loudly enough to make her smile again. 

She watches him pull on his coat and walk to the door with what she realizes, is a disappointment to see him go. 

Before he crosses the threshold, he turns to her. “I’ll come again in the morning,” he says and fondness blooms inside her as he smiles meaningfully. 

As he closes the door, Riza smiles down at her hands. I’m very glad you come here every day because your company is excellent, and brightens my dull hospital stay.

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Ship: Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye

Sample Size: 3,687 stories

Source: AO3

[fullmetalscullyy]

it's almost that time of year again 🎄✍️

since moving into my first home, the stress of it, and life in general has eaten up most of my brainpower and time, my royai advent calendar will be shorter this year. there will be 12 fics rather than 24

tbh i'm surprised and proud that i even managed to write 12 lol but after moving, life, and the past 3 years of writing an accumulated 72 royai christmas fics, ideas start to run low funnily enough haha

think of it as a modified 12 days of christmas 🥳

posting of fics will begin on the 2nd of december and run until the 24th, posted every second day

hope you enjoy some winter/christmas themed royai ❤️ nollaig chridheil 🥂🎅

2019 advent calendar

2020 advent calendar

2021 advent calendar

[scienceoftheidiot]

My dear @qs63 prompted me yesterday to write a short Post Promised Day kiss, and before I turned around this one shot was 2,5K long.

You can read it on AO3 or under the cut here, since it's a prompt (but... Not that short 😅) ⬇️

The phone startled Roy awake. Disoriented, he got up in a hurry, groaned when he blindly walked into the door, pawed at the wall to find the light switch, put the lights on, and ran to the living room, blinking under the sudden harsh light.

He had no idea what time it was, where he was, who it could be - probably late at night, his apartment in Central, and at this time, the only person who could call was -

"Yes?"

"Brigadier General."

He still had to get used to that.

The title reminded him of Hughes. His posthumous promotion. Everytime he was called this way, a shudder climbed up his spine. He hoped it would ease with time.

But what was more important, was who was calling him.

"Hawkeye? Is that you?"

"Uh. Yes. Sir."

Roy passed a hand on his face, his sensitive eyes squinting under the bright living room light. That slight hesitation. He knew what it was. Placing the receiver at the crook of his neck, he pulled on the phone to take it with him as he went on a search for his trousers - his watch was in the pocket.

The cord was too short. His trousers were in his bedroom. And he had nothing else to ask to Hawkeye - asking her how she was doing was out of question.

"What time is it?"

"If it's too late, sir, I can -"

"No, no, I can't find my watch, is all."

"In your trousers right pocket. If I remember well, you also have a spare one in the second drawer of the chest in your living room."

"You're the best, Hawkeye." The phone cord was long enough for him to reach the drawer.

Two am. Roy frowned. It wasn't right, it wasn't right at all.

"I can't decide if you're very early or very late, Captain."

"I'm sorry, I --"

"Easy. I'm just teasing."

Mustang, stop with the fucking banter.

"Nightmare?"

"I just... Needed to hear your voice."

Roy's hand tightened on receiver. For her to admit this, it must have been one hell of a nightmare, indeed. He lowered his voice, trying to sound more soothing than his usual tease.

"I'm here, Hawkeye. In one piece. Everything works more or less like it should, too."

"Yes. I can hear that. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Captain."

Silence.

"I think I'll hung up, now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You need to sleep. I'm sorry to have -"

"You do, too, you know? Need to sleep."

"I'll be okay."

"Captain Hawkeye calling me at two am means she's very not okay, you know. Ask anyone. They'll tell you this."

"I don't want just anyone knowing I call you in the middle of the night, sir."

"Well, ask me, and I will tell you you're not okay and you shouldn't hung up just yet."

Silence. But she didn't hang up.

"Hawkeye?"

"I think I need - nevermind. I should -"

"You know what, I think we should go out one of these days. With the team, I mean -" he added quickly. "Have a glass or two. We haven't really since -"

"Since the boys threw a party to celebrate you and Havoc's healing."

"Yeah, and I asked you to take me back after an hour cause my head was going to explode, so I didn't really enjoy it that much, remember?"

"I do. And yes, it - it's a nice idea."

There was something loaded, there. She sounded like she wanted it, but like she was also disappointed.

"Hawkeye?"

"...Sir?"

"Did you mean you needed to see me just now?"

Yet another silence.

Roy was tempted to add something, anything, to stop her from hanging up on him, to stop her from returning to her bed or her sofa or anywhere in her flat as alone and lost and upset as she sounded. But he also knew that if he said anything, there, then she would never admit it.

"... Yes?"

Roy felt his shoulders slump and something warm twist under his ribs. He had to blink away a speck of dust in his eye - definitely dust, damn his eyes for being so sensitive nowadays.

"Come. I'll put the water to boil."

Roy had started to worry a little, pacing back and forth in his kitchen, when he heard the knocks. He opened the door on a very sorry looking and literally drenched Hawkeye.

His first reaction was to step towards her, intent on hugging her, stopping himself at the last second, and closing his mouth on the "Oh, Riza..." that threatened to go past his lips.

"You should have told me it was raining, I hadn't noticed. I'd have come to pick you up with the car."

"It's okay. I think I needed a walk."

Roy suspected she'd taken so long because she'd turned around multiple times, unable to decide if she should act on his offer or not. An irrational feeling of pride washed over him, but he couldn't tell if it was for her or himself.

He noticed her eyes didn't leave him, following his every move, ever since he'd opened the door.

One hell of a nightmare.

Roy cleared his throat, taking her coat from her shoulders. She let him do so. To Roy, she felt like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Make yourself at home. I'll fetch you a towel for your hair."

He turned around, feeling her eyes boring through his back.

It was a rare occurrence, but it happened that one of them decided to call the other in the middle of the night, needing to speak, share, with someone who knew what they had gone and were still going through. They usually just sat at either side of the room, silent, a warm cup of tea in hand.

But not alone. Together.

The tea had long infused, and Roy gestured for Riza to sit as he left the towel on the small kitchen table, and went to pour two cups. He gave one to her. Her hands, reddened and dried by the cold outside, curled immediately around it.

He sat at the other side of the table. They waited in silence for the tea to cool down enough to be drinkable.

After a while, Roy took a tentative sip and a no less tentative step.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Hawkeye had stopped trying to drill holes through him with her eyes, and was now intently looking at her cup. She did not look up from it, and took her time to reply, her voice very small.

"No."

Rainwater dripped from her bangs onto the table. The towel laid untouched next to her hands.

Roy took another sip from his tea, and got up. He circled around the table, and took the towel.

"May I?"

Hawkeye had a sharp nod. Almost invisible. But, after all, they had known each other long enough.

Standing behind her, he freed her hair from the clip she always wore - not without fumbling a little with it, with his still healing hands, and the clip metal being soaking wet. Honey hair, darkened by water, cascaded on her shoulders. Ever so gently, he gathered it in one hand, applying the towel to it with the other.

He did notice her shoulder tense, then relax, slowly.

Once her hair stopped dripping, he put the towel aside, and tried to untangle the silky strands with his hands. That wouldn't do.

"Coming back."

Another sharp nod, before he saw Hawkeye finally drink her tea from the corner of his eye as he turned to the bathroom again.

His own terribly straight and thick hair was pretty easily untangled by hand most of the time, but he did keep a brush somewhere for the days where he had to look at least a little better dressed.

Hawkeye had not moved when he came back, but her cup was empty. He refilled it without a word, then went to work on her hair.

The silky strands under his fingers reminded him of the last time he'd done this - the first, also. That wasn't long ago.

In the hospital, after a couple of days, Hawkeye had grown frustrated. Her hair was tangled, still matted in places, and with the cut in her neck, and her overall weakness, she couldn't brush them properly, nor tie them so they wouldn't annoy her and brush against the bandage on her nape.

She had not said anything, but Roy could feel it.

He didn't need to see her, then, to know something was annoying her, tensing her more than she was already, and after a little asking and prying, that almost turned into harassment, he'd managed to extract the information from her.

That was so simple. And not as if he didn't know how to care for long hair - his sisters had

made sure he helped them get ready quite often when he was a kid.

Of course, his hands were not as deft as they used to be, and at this moment he couldn't see, but you didn't need to, just to brush hair. He'd offered to help, and it took a little convincing, but Hawkeye had finally accepted and let him take the brush from her hand. And he could tell from her stance, the little humming sounds she made - probably consciously, for his benefit - that she enjoyed it, in the end.

He realized as he passed his fingers through her wet hair that he had closed his eyes, reliving the feeling he'd had back then, the touch of her hair, the warmth of her body being so close. It was a moment he would remember as pure happiness. A moment of bliss amidst bleak times, that would for ever shine in his memory, even if it had only been experienced through touch and sound and smell. Maybe because it had been so.

A smile pulled at his lips as he opened his eyes again, now able to enjoy the warm colour of Hawkeye's hair as well as it's softness.

As he reached for a couple of stray bangs, his fingers brushed against the side of her neck, and the scars that were now crossing it. Hawkeye immediately brought her shoulders up, tilting her head backwards, protecting the tender, still very pink skin there. Roy stilled.

"Sorry. Does it hurt, still?"

Riza answered with another question, but let her shoulders slump down.

"Do yours?"

Roy repressed a small chuckle. That wasn't funny.

"Of course they do. I can barely hold that damn hair brush, after filling paperwork all day. And I did most on the typewriter."

"Don't tell me you've found a new way to try and escape paperwork, sir."

"I don't think you'd let me, anyway."

Roy was done with her hair. It was drying, gaining more shine and becoming lighter in colour and under his fingers as it did so. But he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to let go of Hawkeye's hair, of the proximity it gave them, of just being able to touch her.

So he kept brushing, even if, yeah, his hands hurt. But he saw her close her eyes under his touch as he tilted his head to the side. It was definitely worth it.

"You don't like me using your new rank."

Roy blinked. The question had come out of nowhere, in a voice that was a little more assured than it'd been when Hawkeye had entered his flat. He sighed.

"I'm not going to lie to you."

"Because of Hughes."

"Yes."

Roy, still standing behind Hawkeye, his hands still now mostly playing with her hair rather than brushing it, expected the conversation to die there.

"I think he'd be proud of you."

Roy let go of her hair, to place his hands on her shoulders. Hawkeye and Hughes never really had what would have been called a relationship - and would have absolutely never interacted if not for Roy himself being friends with both. Hughes considered Roy's fondness for Hawkeye as an impediment on his way to find his perfect wife, and Hawkeye disapproved of Hughes's loudness, his constant boasting and his berating of Roy on the same subject - there was no jealousy there, only professionalism on her part.

Or, rather, mostly professionalism.

So to hear her talk about Hughes, and with such a tone of voice, was uncommon. But it made that warm twist in his gut rise again.

"I think you're right."

Silence, again. A comfortable silence, at least on Roy's part, that Hawkeye pulverized into millions of sharp pieces.

"You died."

Roy froze, the warmth disappearing.

"In my nightmare. You died in my arms, and - and I couldn't tell if the one who'd shot you was an enemy or myself. You kept telling me it wasn't my fault, while blood poured out of your mouth and you were clutching at my shoulders. But I think it was. I think it was me who shot you. And then you died. It took a long time. It… I…"

Hawkeye's hands were slightly shaking around the newly empty tea cup, and Roy could feel the tremors in her shoulders. First, he pushed on them, trying to put some weight on her, to ground her, show her he was there, then he changed his mind.

He couldn’t tell her that he knew exactly how she felt, for he’d experienced it not too long before, for real, and that every other night, he went through more or less the same dream. Her dying in his arms, with no way to prevent it from happening. Alone underground. Her blood smeared on her clothes, her face, his hands. The very real image of her blood dying her hair red, engraved in his mind, for weeks, while he was blind to everything else.

Roy tried to repress the shiver that crept up his spine and closed its icy hands around his throat. Now was not the time to tell her that. She needed him to be stronger than her, right now. Nor would he tell her that he had, in fact, gone so far as to pick up the phone a week prior, only to place it back down before calling her number.

He took her hand and gently pulled her up, seeing with a pang of sadness that she still behaved like a stringless puppet, following his push without showing neither want nor dislike.

"Look at me, Riza."

The surprise at him using her first name seemed to pull her out of her torpor, and she looked him in the eye.

"Good. Look. I'm here. All in one piece. You didn't shoot me." Unsure of where to place his hands, he put them on her waist - a light touch, as if they were at a formal dance. He wouldn’t dare anything more intrusive than that. "You never did. You came close ... But you didn't have to. You pushed me back on the right track. You always do. And I always follow."

He could get lost in her dark amber eyes for hours if he had nothing else to care about. But he had to care for her, right now. And he couldn't bear the fact that these eyes were rimmed red. Slowly, he brought his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. He let out a sigh as her own arms circled his waist and he nudged his head in the crook of her neck - careful to choose the right side. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, and spoke low.

"I'm supposed to be the one who follows. Not the other way around."

"You perfectly know I keep turning back to ask you directions."

"I thought it was to check if I was still there."

"No. I trust you too much to ever doubt that."

They stood still, huddled together, for a while. Then Roy stepped back.

“Are you feeling better?”

Riza sniffed against his chest.

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

He brought his hands to the sides of her face, tilting her head so their eyes would meet again. Her features were less tense, but not fully relaxed yet.

“I think there’s still some way to go.”

Stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, he kissed her forehead lightly, taking in the smell of her hair, and the softness of her skin. When he pulled back, she had closed her eyes, and some of the remaining tension had left her face.

Smiling, he placed his hands back on her waist, where they were before.

“Why don’t we sit?”

Hawkeye frowned again, ruining his efforts. But it was only for a couple of seconds.

“We should sleep. I should go home. I just needed to check on you, to be sure. We both need to sleep.”

“We’ll sleep when we’re dead.” Roy tried a mock frown, and rested his forehead against hers, black locks of hair mixing with honey bangs. “Or when we fall asleep on the couch. Either way, I’m not letting you go.”

“Is that an order?”

That warm twist again. Hawkeye’s dry smile was back.

“I could make it so.”

“Let’s sit, then.”

[queen-isabelle-writes]

Summary:  When Berthold Hawkeye decides to run for governor of the East, his daughter, Riza, is less than pleased, especially when he forces her to put her journalism career on hold to be his office manager. But when Roy Mustang, Berthold's old apprentice, signs on to be his campaign manager, bringing with him a whole cast of characters from his time in Central, Riza thinks that the next year and a half might be manageable. Working closely together, Riza and Roy do their best to run a smooth campaign for Berthold; unfortunately, the slope between friends and lovers is a treacherous one, and the fall might have scandalous consequences.

[musing-and-music]

Royai Week 2022

She's here

Day 3 - arrival / shield

Rating G | 873 words | Fluff, Family Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, Like seriously go wash your teeth after that, Royai kid, Post-Canon | Royai, Irene Mustang

Summary: Roy spent his night waiting, worrying, but she's here at last, this treasure they waited and loved all this time

Read on AO3 / Read in French

[horoyois]

summer sunlight | royai drabble

✦ roy is not good with changes.

—pairing: roy mustang x riza hawkeye

—genre: angst, teensy bit of fluff, mentions of war

—word count: 700

—a/n: yeah i should be studying but here i am, lost in royai hell

The weather is too humid in East City.

The Sun sets long past its time with the Summer days, and its rays make his skin itchy and sore. The wool uniform does not help, either, and the surrounding buildings are not tall enough to provide shadow where he sits in his office.

“Is it possible to bring a fan into my office?” he asks one of the soldiers posted in the reception desk. “It’s too hot and we would want to survive the summer months, ideally.”

“Survive, huh. Are you not used to the heat in the East already, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang?” the officer responds.

And his skin itches more than before.

Whether he is referring to the couple months that have passed since he and his team were destined to East City or he is snarky enough to mention the scorching weather in Ishval in front of the Flame Alchemist (it turns even hotter with a snap of his fingers), Roy does not know. He touches a weak spot, anyway.

Because he is definitely not used to this, yet. He is not used to this city, too small compared to his home and too big compared to where he spent most of his childhood. A city bustling under the daylight, but completely silent when it turns dark and the crickets sing. A city close to the land he burnt to ashes, too close for comfort. Is this a punishment? It may as well be.

He was never good with change. A slow learner and slow adapter, not the best when it comes to new things. Bad with new routines, he still wakes up at three hundred hours sharp (like during the war, like he has to do rounds); bad at remembering where his things are inside his new apartment. 

He is chewing his nails off now, and he needs to get out, hide from the sunlight and from the heat that makes his skin feel like it is bubbling (like their skin after a taste of his alchemy). 

He runs off without saying a word to anyone, and he can hear the surprised shouts of “Lieutenant Colonel” coming from his new team, but never his name. He is not Roy anymore; he has become nothing but a military title.

He hides inside one of the toilets, the one he knows is often empty, and tries to swallow his emotions, his sorrow and, most of all, his guilt. But it is a big bite, his guilt, and his throat is well closed.

After a while, he decides to go back to his office. The sun is almost gone now, and the golden hour makes pretty shadows out of the regal building that is Eastern Command. By the shadows and the light, he guesses it has to be around nineteen hundred hours. Everyone must have clocked off already. However, he is surprised to see the doors to his office wide open. 

And in the empty office, at the desk closest to his and focusing on a paper that means nothing after all they’ve done, sits her. The light is playing with her hair, illusions of sparkles and golden strands dancing in between her frowned eyebrows.  She has taken her jacket off, probably taking advantage of the absence of her peers, and her frame looks tiny compared to when she wears the stiff uniform over her shoulders. Her gaze is so serious it almost makes him chuckle, and the same ray of light that was bothering him earlier is now making her hazel eyes seem almost golden.

He feels his chest deflate, now a thousand times lighter. 

“Unbearable, this heat. Right, Lieutenant?”

The corners of her mouth go up a bit, and she lifts her gaze to watch him closely.

“We have seen worse, sir”.

And the way she says “we” helps him find his ground, finally. And he smiles fondly, understanding that change is going to come again and again, but if he can have her by his side like this, his constant, his stability — then he will let it come. Again and again.

© horoyois - all rights reserved. reposting/translating/modifying is not allowed.

[anticute-marshmallowmars]

what if i never rEALLY have a distinct point of like..ending the fic. 

what if i just in general, have a 'HERE THEIR PROBLEMS ARE FIXED’ moment

and then just...

dive into a whole

now, here is just an endless stream of like.. fluff.

shrug

also, no: we’re not there yet. lol.

i’m jumping around, all the time. i’m obviously at the present point of the fic. but also i’m working two plotpoints ahead. while also working at act 5 crud bc they won’t shut up.

LIFE.

[smoothshine]

Attention everyone, it's fluff alert!! One nice soft young!Royai piece coming right away for @fullmetalscullyy as my @fmasecretsanta gift for you, friend!:)

Happy holidays to you and everyone who is reading this, and I'll see y'all in the next year with more artsy (and other) stuff to come!

PS: separate pictures are under the cut <33

[sootyfeathers]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Additional Tags: Royai Week, Royai week 2022, Royai - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Bathing/Washing, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, rainy day, Comfort Summary:

Colonel Roy Mustang is an ambitious man who thrives in the cutthroat arena of Central Command’s power struggle. But he too is only human. Rain falls especially heavy one evening, as does the curtain on his façade. In a moment of such vulnerability and weakness, a certain First Lieutenant comes to his rescue.