#royai wedding

[ppurinpu]

Day 16 - Family

[kimichicha]

I love wedding dress designs <3 thought it would be fun to draw these two in wedding attire because its kinda all I can think about since I got engaged! <3

[silvery-dreams-art]

💗 HAPPY ROYAI DAY! 💗

Sorry for the absence! 😣🙈 Tbh, recently I'm more active on other social, like Instagram and Twitter... but I'm here to post at least my piece for Royai Day! ❤

Also, a little bonus with our favorite dog:

P.S.: the illustration is available in my shops on RedBubble, INPRNT, Teepublic, Spreadshirt and Displate, check "All my sites" in the description of the blog! (I prefer to not to add the link directly here, or probably Tumblr will hide the post)

[hisguardingqueen]

Just married, at last.

More RoyAi for you all <3

[ssadropout]

Their Way

A/N- Royai wedding fluff! I didn’t know how to accessorize Riza’s dress. The idea for her jewelry (I wanted her to wear some) is from a forum on theknot.com. I don’t see her wearing a veil. 

The large parlor in the Fuhrer’s mansion had been made cozy with casual arrangements of wildflowers. The sun shone through the large bay windows, but the room temperature was comfortable. They had opted to use upholstered chairs from around the house- there were enough of them- instead of the usual folding or hard wooden chairs for such an event. For the most part, the guests sat chatting happily in anticipation of what was to come. It wasn’t a large gathering, and the good mood was contagious- unless one was not capable of a good mood.

General Armstrong growled and rattled her sword. “Where is that punk Mustang? I swear, if he hurts Hawkeye, I’ll rid him of his sword with my sword!”

“Oh, dear Sister, it’s still early. I’m certain he would never do such a thing. The love between them is strong and true.” Alex Louis could not hold back tears, and his sister scoffed. 

The general stared at the temporary platform at the front of the room. Grumman sat calmly but alone on the riser under a canopy of more wildflowers. He looked as if nothing were wrong. In fact, he had a huge smile on his face. 

“He’d better get up there soon, even if Hawkeye deserves so much better than him. I suppose she is allowed one fault. There’s no accounting for taste.” 

Her brother wrinkled his expressive brows. “I wonder why Fuhrer Grumman is waiting up there. If he is Captain Hawkeye’s grandfather, why isn’t he walking her down the aisle?” Olivier just growled again.

********

Riza stared at herself in the vanity mirror as Rebecca fussed with her hair. Riza rolled her eyes, because there really was nothing to fix about the elegant chignon, but she said nothing.

The wedding, while still small by most standards, was larger than she and Roy had originally wanted. They had figured on a ceremony at City Hall with the team, her grandfather, and Madame. However, when their engagement was announced, congratulations from some people slightly outside their inner circle made them rethink the plan. Dr. Marcoh had restored Roy’s sight and made so much possible for them. Dr. Knox had always been there when Roy had needed him. Gracia… how had they ever considered leaving her and Elysia out? And, Edward Elric had made it clear that he didn’t give a shit about Mustang, but he and his family would be there in case Riza came to her senses and wanted to escape. So, it became an actual wedding with Rebecca and Havoc as attendants. An arf  interrupted her thoughts, and she ruffled her ring bearer’s fur. Roy had immediately agreed to Hayate being involved in their big day.

Once she had decided to wear a dress, she lamented not having a wedding dress from her mother. Her mother and father had eloped, and there had been nothing to remember their wedding  by except an official piece of paper. It would be very different for Riza and Roy. Gracia was carrying on for Maes, and she had already snapped an album’s worth of photos. 

Riza stood to stretch. It was nearly time to get the show on the road. She twisted to observe herself from all angles. The champagne colored dress was plainish- no, simple, not plain. It had detail but was unfussy. It fell around her body perfectly. After their engagement, Roy had had a jeweler make a necklace and earrings from pearls and some crystals he had transmuted. The jewelry was another example of his instinct about her. He had known nothing about her dress, but the accessories were perfect. He had even known that she never wore bracelets. Her bouquet of wildflowers lay on the dresser. 

“I’m ready,” she said with a serene smile. “See if the boys are ready.”

********

Madame had gone to check on the groom’s progress, and she reported to Grumman, whispering several words in his ear. Grumman rolled his eyes, even though it was only five minutes past the intended start. He addressed the audience, which quieted quickly for the Fuhrer. With a grin, he announced, “I believe that this is the first time Riza Hawkeye has ever been late for anything! The ceremony should begin in the next few minutes.” He felt like the cat that had swallowed the canary. He’d secretly requested that Mustang be assigned to him immediately after Ishval and had been more than thrilled when his estranged granddaughter had joined the young officer. The old man had immediately decided that Mustang would be his grandson-in-law, but it had taken him much too long to accomplish this. Who would have thought that he’d be Fuhrer before that idiot couple married? 

********

 Roy was shaking. He hoped that his hands would steady enough that he could get the ring on her finger. He wasn’t really nervous. They had been together in one way or another for more than half of their lives, and they had loved each other, if imperfectly, for many years. This day was really a dream come true. He just wanted everything to be perfect for her, and he didn’t want to be an embarrassment. He tried to keep his hands away from his hair, which looked neat for once. Breda smoothed Roy’s dress uniform but said, “Lookin’ good!” Except for Havoc and Mustang, the men left for the parlor. 

There was a knock at the door. Rebecca peeked in and said, “It’s time.” Then she smiled and looked Roy directly in the eyes. “If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Rebecca went back to the bride’s room. 

Havoc whispered, “I’m pretty sure she means it.” 

The two men walked into the hall, and the bride’s door opened. Roy’s hands stilled the moment that he saw her. She put her arm through his so that she could hold her bouquet. Hayate yipped around their ankles.

“You look so beautiful,” he softly declared. “You look just like yourself but moreso.” 

She wiped the tear that ran down his cheek. “Oh, Roy, are you beginning to cry already?” she laughed. She leaned into him, and he reciprocated.  

Hayate took his place at the head of the small procession. Jean and Rebecca linked arms behind the pup. Riza hadn’t really liked the idea of being given away. She had been living her own life and making her own decisions since she was nineteen. Grumman might have been a little hurt when they told him, but he had perked up when they asked him to officiate. Roy had long wanted Riza by his side instead of two steps behind. Already inseparable, they walked each other down the aisle like the true pair they already were.

[cookie-chan007]

Royai wedding

source:https://www.deviantart.com/methodformadness/art/Wedding-Prompt-637328532

[bartimaeus]

You and me, in a bar driking and laughing

You and me, having neighbours and having childrena

You and me, in a fairytale.

[edxwin-elric]

Where the Heart Is

Royai Week: Day 5

Theme: Home

Rating: K+

Pairing: Royai/Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 1007

Description: Royai One Shot/Drabble

After a day of wedding craziness, Riza truly goes home for the first time.

A/N: I wrote this one in third person because it came to me that way. I know my fics are never not in first, but you guys are cool. Hopefully, the quality doesn’t suffer. Comments are always appreciated. Happy reading!

my rw18 tag || ffn || ao3

day 4: touch me

Riza was never one to fidget. Her years as a sniper had stamped out any urge to twist her hands or fiddle with her clothes. But sitting here, in the back of a sleek black town car, she couldn’t help but mess with the glittering jewelry that adorned her wrists and fingers. She was nervous. More nervous than she’d been since she was a little girl. This was not Riza Hawkeye.

Riza Hawkeye no longer existed. She’d given up that name along with her former life of solitude, paperwork, and her dimly lit apartment. The change had officially taken place just twelve hours ago as she stood in front of the entire population of Central City, though the ceremony was being broadcast across the whole of Amestris. She couldn’t have cared less about the crowd or the publicity. To her, it was just the two of them. Standing there, saying the things they’d kept secret for so long.

At the end, they kissed for only a moment, but the roaring of the throng that came after lasted for an eternity. The officiant promptly presented them as Fuhrer and First Lady Mustang, which received a fresh surge of cheers from the multitude. But even as the noise reached a deafening peak, Roy leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Mrs. Mustang,” he murmured, his breath tickling the skin of her neck. 

It was then reality hit her, and she felt tears pricking her eyes. She was no longer Riza Hawkeye. She belonged to this man—body and soul, and in return he gave her his name. As of that moment, she was Riza Mustang. 

Somehow, she managed not to cry even though her chest was constricting with emotion. Instead, she was whisked off to a reception so grand it rivaled the emperor’s birthday celebration in Xing. She was much too busy smiling and chatting to let it sink in—her new role as Roy Mustang’s wife. Here, she was the Fuhrer’s wife, and had to fill the role of the glowing socialite, which she did with ease.

However, after the food had been devoured and the champagne diminished, when the party-goers and well-wishers had all departed, the Fuhrer and his bride happily, and wearily, stepped out into the cool night air and got into an awaiting town car. Hidden from any prying eyes behind the dark tinted glass, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

Riza put a hand on his chest and kissed him back until he moved to kiss her cheek and curled his arm around her. Resting her head on his shoulder, Riza felt the weight of exhaustion settle in her bones. Today was long, and she was very ready to go home.

Home.

Home wasn’t a concept Riza was familiar with. Her childhood home wasn’t much to speak of, except for the years Roy had been apprenticing under her father. When she left there, she lived in a military barrack until the war began in Ishval.

There is no home for a soldier at war. Her tent in Ishval was used for meager hours of restless sleep when and if she could get them.

Since then, she’d been living in a small apartment in Central which had merely served a purpose—a place to eat, sleep, and be alone at the end of the day.

But none of those were a home.

As the car turned up the long drive to the Fuhrer’s mansion, Riza’s heart skipped a beat, the sight of the grand estate unnerving her. And while the promise of what would happen when she and Roy reached their bedroom that night was there in the back of her mind, the feeling in her stomach was far from anticipation. She began chewing on her lower lip as they grew closer to their destination.

Of course, she’d been to the Fuhrer’s mansion before—almost daily, in fact—but she’d never been there like this. Never as it’s mistress. As the looming, palatial building came into view, the new lady of the house felt two tears slip down her cheeks. Why her emotions were affecting her this way, she couldn’t name.

Roy’s strong, scarred hand squeezed her fingers, and Riza looked up at her husband, who gave her a warm look.

“Welcome home, Riza.”

Maybe it was the sound of his voice. Or the gentleness of his words. Perhaps the tenderness in his gaze. But for whatever reason, as soon as she heard the words, the tension left her.

Home isn’t a place, she thought to herself. It’s not the walls and windows of a building. Home is more abstract.

And in that moment, Riza realized she’d always had a home. A place that made her safe and secure. A place where she could be stripped bare, exposing her scars and imperfections and receive no judgement. A place where she was loved.

The strong arms around her were her home. 

All of him was her home. The eyes that so often gazed at her with longing. The soft touch of his hand against hers. The familiar scent of his cologne. The abs that never failed to made her weak.

“We’re here, my love.”

Riza looked up to see he was right. The car was stopped in front of the front steps.

Pulling her eyes away from the regal manor, she looked at her husband and smiled softly.

“Home, sweet home,” she whispered.

Not understanding her meaning, Roy helped her from the car and swept her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she gasped in surprise.

“It’s tradition,” he announced, starting up the stairs. “The groom has to carry his bride over the threshold of their home.”

Riza shook her head at him and then dropped it to his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could carry her over as many thresholds in as many houses as he wanted, she didn’t care. As long as he was at her side, she would be happy.

She would be home.