Fanfic Writer, Wife, Mom, Figuring it Out

Currently, I only have works posted for FMA03 and FMAB/manga. I used to write some other fandoms about a million years ago, but currently my heart and soul is in the Royai world. I DO have an original novel in the works, but whether anything ever comes of it remains to be seen.

"OMD" is an AU series that will follow Royai from pre-canon through post-canon. It explores some very heavy themes of trauma through the lens that hope and recovery are always possible, no matter how dark things get 💕 This fic is my heart and soul! I love to yap about it. You can look for bi-weekly updates on Mondays!

My "main" mostly canon compliant Royai series is "Stolen Moments"! It is completed! There's 30 stories, taking place between the years 1897-1950 in the FMAB/Manga timeline, so pre-canon, peri-canon, and post-canon. I'm slowly working on podfic versions of this series, trying to post weekly!

"These Are Their Stories": my newest longfic is a modern Amestris AU based on Law & Order SVU! Roy and Riza are detectives, they start out in a complicated situationship, shit goes down, and they have to figure out what to do about it. Will explore TPE (total power exchange) dynamics, sex as a coping mechanism, and codependency in traumatic healing. I'm still writing it, but you can find a "sneak peek" here. Will come up with a posting schedule once I actually finish it.

I've also got what will eventually be a fma03/CoS "Fix-it" series. It's currently unfinished and... uh... NOT fixed.

"Sir" is a fun look at Royai, BDSM, and the trauma in their relationship. It's complete!

I've got completed stories for Kink AND Whumptober 2025 "Total Eclipse (of the Heart)" (FMAB based) and "Stay" (03 based)!

Then there's some one-shots and mini fics, including my fics from Royai Week 2025!

In the future, I'm hoping to work on some collaborative projects I've been noodling around with a few different writer friends!

And finally, I'm working on my first original novel. Whether anything ever comes of it remains to be seen. Pray for me <3!

I LOVE talking about these characters and playing around in their world. Got questions, comments, queries on my take on Royai? Opinions? Constructive criticism? Got a story you want me to read so we can compare/contrast/squeal together? My Asks and DMs are open!

Ask me about the Royai Peach Cult Discord server! We love hanging out and talking about this OTP!

She slides off him with a huff.

"If you don't want to fuck that's fine," she mutters. "You didn't have to come over."

Roy tries very hard not to read too much into that. It's not like that's the only reason he comes over here. They have a very active sex life, obviously, but they do other things together, too. It's more than that, and she damn well knows it.

Nevermind that he's always been too chickenshit to say as much.

He tries to play it off, leaning close and kissing her temple.

"I didn't say I wasn't interested," he teases. "Just… checking in, is all."

"Don't do me any favors," Riza snips, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning away from him.

Roy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm just… trying to be a good guy here, okay?" he mutters. She's obviously upset, and he can't help but feel like having sex will only make it worse.

It's something he struggles with—the power differential in their relationship. Yes, they're partners, but he's still technically her superior. Even when they met, he was a boy three years older, a protective figure rather than a romantic interest. And not only are they sleeping together, but the sex usually involves BDSM. If he heard himself described in a case report, he'd think he was the scum of the earth.

Staying away from her wasn't an option. If he were a stronger and better man, he'd ask for a transfer to another unit and openly date her, but he already burned his bridges with a couple other departments. He knows that he's in a good spot at SVT and is likely to gain momentum if he keeps his nose to the grindstone. It's fulfilling work, putting away the worst of the worst off the streets and trying to give victims a piece of their lives back. He certainly can't ask Riza to transfer when he can see how much the job means to her.

So he tries to content himself with at least making certain that he isn't a villain in her story.

"I'm not delicate," Riza snaps.

"I never said you were."

"Then stop looking at me like I'm broken." She leans forward and kisses him again, sinking her hands into his hair and yanking. He tries to pull away, and she bites his lip hard.

Usually, that would be enough to make him hoist her over his knee and spank her ass until she cried before fucking her.

Tonight, it's just evidence of how hard she's trying to outrun her demons. She's trying to use him to do it. He can't let her.

He runs his tongue over his lip, relieved that she doesn't seem to have broken the skin.

"Don't be like this," he says quietly, waiting until her eyes meet his. "Talk to me."

She squares her jaw, and for a moment he expects her to kick him out entirely as he registers the anger on her face.

"Riza," he whispers, "please."

She lifts her chin, and he can see the effort it costs her as she swallows hard.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she says in a strangled voice. "I don't want to think about it, so just…. Can you please just fuck me or-or punish me? Get me out of my head and let me just…."

Roy pulls her gently back onto his lap and combs her hair away from her face, holding her cheeks in his hands.

"No," he says quietly, and she takes in a shuddering breath, trying to turn her face from him. He doesn't let her. "I'm not going to be rough with you tonight. That's not going to be any good for either of us." He runs one of his hands up her back, feeling the knobs of her spine under his fingertips until he gently puts his hand to the base of her neck and tilts her head down to make her look at him.

***I know I should probably wait until Royai Week is over, but I couldn't stand it. So here you have my next longfic! Thank you to @sassy-kakariki-94 and @elvenstar146 for Beta reading!! Mind the tags folks!***

“You have the right to remain silent,” Detective Riza Hawkeye grunts as her body hits the ground, along with that of the man she's been chasing. She pants as she clasps her handcuffs around the captured suspect’s wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

You bet your ass it will.

The man beneath her curses profusely, calling her every foul name he can think of, and she continues reciting his rights. She slowly gets to her knees, still breathing hard.

“Hawkeye!”

She hears pounding footsteps and glances back at her partner, Lieutenant Roy Mustang.

“Do you understand these rights as they have been explained to you?” she asks the suspect.

“Fuck you, bitch!” the man snarls.

“Hey!” Mustang snaps, grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him up. Hawkeye gets to her feet as well and dusts off her black pants with her hands. “Shut your mouth,” Mustang growls.

“Let it alone,” Hawkeye mutters. “Let’s just get him to the squad car, alright?”

She can see that Mustang wants to argue–either with the suspect or with her, but he just nods sharply and takes the suspect by the arm, tugging him along towards their parked car which is about six blocks away. 

The drive back to the station house is thick with tension and nearly silent. Their detainee sulks in his handcuffs in the back of the car, and Mustang clenches his jaw, tapping his hand irritably against the steering wheel.

Hawkeye knows she’s in for a dressing down the moment they’re alone, and she stares moodily out the window as the drab apartment buildings pass them by. They hand off the suspect to a uniformed officer, then head to their squad room to check in with their colleagues and prepare to interrogate him.

But, as she knew he would, Mustang grabs her arm and pulls her into the break room.

“What in the hell was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hawkeye tries to move past him, but he blocks the door with his body, glowering at her.

“The hell you don’t. There was absolutely no reason for you to go tearing off after that guy alone, Hawkeye. We hadn’t even cleared the rest of the apartment. I told you to wait for backup, and you completely ignored me.”

Hawkeye rolls her eyes and tries once more to shove past him, but again he blocks her, folding his arms over his chest.

“Are we going to do this interrogation, or what?” she snips, glaring up at him. 

“Are you going to actually follow my orders in the field, or what?” he shoots back, and she scoffs.

“What, you’re going to pull rank on me now?”

“I will if it’s warranted, Detective. Or do we need to have a conversation together with Captain Grumman?”

She searches his face for a moment, uncertain. It isn’t the first time recently he’s suggested writing her up, but she can tell that he means business this time.

“No, sir,” she says quietly, lowering her gaze. 

“Good.”

He turns on his heel and Hawkeye stares after him for a moment, considering. She was rash to pursue the suspect with no backup, although she had radioed in her position, which is what allowed Mustang to catch up with them. Still, he’s right to suggest that it’s not the first time she’s done something to ignore her own safety in favor of solving the case.

“What are you waiting for, Hawkeye? An invitation? Let’s get this done.”

She smiles slightly and follows him.

***Thank you to @hawkeyes-darling and Allisans for Beta reading this fic! Y'all are amazing! I hope everyone has had a wonderful Royai Week, and I promise to catch up on reading y'all's incredible work soon. Thanks again to @royaiweek for the awesome prompts!***

“Would you stand still? You're so fidgety.”

Riza glues her arms to her sides and straightens her back, glaring at her best friend’s reflection in the full-length mirror. 

“I don't fidget," she says stiffly, even though she knows perfectly well that Rebecca has just caught her doing exactly that. 

“Tell that to your scalp when I jab you with this hairpin," Rebecca snarks back. 

Despite the sarcasm, she smiles fondly as she pins a blonde ringlet into place, perfectly framing Riza's cheek. She reaches for a long length of white lace sewn to a lacquered hair comb with pink cherry blossoms on it. 

“Just the finishing touch," Rebecca says softly. She places the comb in the middle of the elegant half-up hairstyle and arranges the lace so that it tumbles down with the waterfall of golden curls around Riza's shoulders. "Perfect,” Rebecca murmurs. 

Riza reaches up and lightly touches her own cheek, then brushes her finger against her lips. It's hard to believe that the reflection in the mirror is actually her—awkward, mannish, broad-shouldered Hawkeye draped in yards of white silk and satin. She never could have imagined. 

“Don't!" Rebecca exclaims, smacking her hand away. “You'll ruin your makeup before you even get down the aisle!” She gives Riza a wicked grin. "You're not supposed to smear the lipstick until after—" 

“Rebecca!"

a thousand years

***I can't believe we've reached the final chapter. It's so hard to post this and say goodbye. Thank you again to @erimeows, @starwritingbri, and @hawkeyes-darling who were all involved with Beta reading this fic! Thank you to everyone at Royai Peach Cult Discord Server who encouraged and supported me. And most of all, thank you to you, dear readers. Happy Royai Day!***

Central City, Amestris, June 1917

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Riza tries not to ruin her eye makeup as angry tears burn in her eyes. She glances at the large vanity mirror and curses. Her hair is still elegantly styled, but there are little black tear-tracks littering her cheeks, and she knows she’ll never manage to repair the damage on her own.

Not to mention dealing with the source of her frustration. 

She stands up again and turns to one side, surveying the unfamiliar undergarment in the mirror. 

A stupid garter belt.

Hiring a publicist to help with Riza’s image had been a no-brainer from the moment they stepped fully into the political limelight with the announcement of their marriage and their move back to Central. Renee has helped with fashion choices, hair and makeup, practice interviews, lessons in poise and etiquette—everything Riza needs to become the perfect First Lady. It’s tedious and at times heinously mundane, but it’s a trial to be borne. Riza’s been a good and patient student, and overall it helps with her anxiety.

But this time, after whisking her away to a salon for her hair and makeup, Renee left her with the ball gown she’s supposed to wear for the evening, the dancing slippers she requested (although Renee had raised an eyebrow at Riza’s flat refusal to wear heeled shoes), a tiny jewelled handbag…. And a garter belt with a pair of silk stockings.

Riza’s been struggling for a quarter of an hour, and as much as she tries, she simply cannot get the delicate lace stockings to fasten to the belt. She’s afraid of tearing them, and she doesn’t know if she even has a spare pair available to her. She’s spent half the time pacing about her bedroom, wringing her hands. The other half, she’s spent practically twisting herself into the shape of a pretzel to work the little fastening clips. But she can’t get the right angle, and every time she thinks she has it clipped in place, the silk slips through her fingers or pulls in a way that indicates it might tear. She got one of the clips to hook at one point only to realize that the little black bow meant to go in the back was now hooked to the garter in the front. 

Unfastening the one she’d managed to do sent her over the edge into full-fledged panic.

I can’t do this. I’m unwomanly. Unfeminine. I’m not graceful. Everyone will be looking at me. They’ll look at me, and I’ll feel their eyes. All those eyes staring at me. Eyes in the darkness.

She shudders and represses a shaking sob, opening the bureau drawer and trying to see if she can find something else suitable. Would it be a faux pas to wear regular nylon pantyhose beneath a ballgown like this? Would anyone even know? 

She slams the bureau drawer shut, and one of the pearl earrings Grumman gave her for her last birthday slides from the top, rolling underneath. Riza groans and bends on her hands and knees, searching for it.

She’s going to be late for her own husband’s damn inaugural ball because of the damn stockings and the damn earrings. 

I can’t do this.

Epilogue

***Hope everyone is having a great Royai Week! Thank you again to @royaiweek for the awesome prompt list, and thank you to @hawkeyes-darling for Beta reading this fic! The prompt for this one is "Quiescent". ***

"You really don't even know what I mean, do you?" Riza tilts her head inquiringly as Rebecca speaks again. "I mean, you never had to deal with it, the grind of the dating circuit. You just got your Prince Charming handed to you on a silver platter."

Riza snorts inelegantly.

"I'll make sure to let him know you called him that."

"Don't you dare," Rebecca gasps in horror.

She and Roy needle each other, but it's more like a show of sibling rivalry than anything. It's maybe a little bit of competition for Riza's attention, which is why it annoys her. Still, she knows at the end of the day, they see one another as family.

"I wouldn't exactly say it was that easy for us, either," Riza adds, only a bit defensively.

"What, because you had all of us fooled into thinking you were this poor, neglected, lonely woman while you two were secretly screwing like rabbits for ten years?"

"Rebecca! That's not true." She lowers her voice and gives her friend a pointed glare. "And even if it were, you know better than to say it when you could be overheard. People will get the wrong idea."

"Sorry," Rebecca says sheepishly. "I know, it wasn't easy for you, either. But at least you're married. I'm going to be over thirty years old without a husband. Do you know how depressing that is?"

"Do you know how melodramatic you sound?"

"Shut up!" Rebecca whines. "It's easy for you to talk, you get laid whenever you want, and I bet he's actually good in bed, even if you won't tell me a damn thing about it."

Riza rolls her eyes. While Rebecca has always been a little bit too keen to share details of her own sexual escapades, Riza's far more reserved, which for some reason drives her best friend crazy. However….

"What if…" Riza ventures hesitantly. "What if I did?"

"Did what?" Rebecca asks, digging in her purse for her compact mirror to add a fresh coat of lipstick now that they've finished their lunch.

"Want to talk about it."

"About…sex?" Rebecca gives her an incredulous look, and Riza bites her lower lip, then nods her head.

"I think I-I might need some advice," she says.

Rebecca looks positively gleeful as she leans over the table.

"Spill," she demands.

"Not here," Riza murmurs. "Let's go for a walk in the garden."

They'll still be followed there by security soldiers, but at least they'll be away from the house staff. It's not that Riza doesn't trust the people who work for them, just that she's very uncomfortable with talking about this at all, much less with potentially being overheard.

"Okay," she says slowly as they make their way through the expansive garden, leaves crunching beneath their feet. "So, I mean, obviously there's sex, right?"

Scars

***Thank you so much to Betas @hawkeyes-darling and Allisans! Please mind the tags on this one! NSFW for violence, but there is no smut. Written for the @royaiweek prompt: Candlelight.***

At first, Hawkeye is dazed by the flickering quality of the light. It bounces warmly off the dark walls but doesn't reach back into the shadows. For a moment, she imagines red eyes gleaming in the darkness, hears the echo of cold laughter, and feels razor sharp talons cutting into her wrists and ankles, dragging her into the depths of the gloom where she knows she will never escape.

But no.

There are no eyes. The passageway is oddly silent. The bindings around her limbs aren't tendrils of shadow but rough, coarse ropes that fasten her ankles together and her wrists behind her back.

As she realizes this, she gasps and forces her sluggish mind back to racing consciousness. Her head and heart both thunder as she remembers.

The mission. The People's Alchemist Alliance. The ambush. And now….

"General?" Her voice is raspy from disuse and thirst. She looks around the room and realizes that the oddly flickering light emanates from candles. There must be near a hundred of them, of varying shapes and sizes, some mounted on candelabras, some on the ground or in the recessed, rocky walls of the cavern. This must be some sort of underground tunnel. Perhaps one of the passageways left behind after the Promised Day.

She tries to move and discovers that not only are her limbs bound, she's in an iron cage suspended from the ceiling. She struggles, but the ropes hold her fast and the rocking motion of the swaying cage makes her feel ill.

Maybe, most likely, a head injury—probably a mild concussion. That explains the headache.

But where…?

"General?" she tries again to make herself heard, wary of letting her voice travel too far, lest she might alert her captors to the fact that she's regained consciousness.

For a moment, when she hears no reply, she hopes that maybe she's mistaken and that Brigadier General Mustang wasn't apprehended along with her. Her heart leaps but then her eyes begin to adjust to the eerie semi-darkness, and she can just make out another iron cage hanging beside her own, a man's huddled figure similarly bound inside.

"Hawkeye?" He groans faintly. "Where—?"

"Sir, I'm here," she whispers, forcing herself to shuffle to the side of the cage nearest his feeble voice.

"Oh no," he murmurs. "I hoped… I thought maybe you'd…"

She swallows hard and tries to force herself to think clearly, strategically. She's still his bodyguard, and her most important function is that her principle survives this encounter.

"Are you injured, sir?"

The pause that follows the question makes her heart sink.

"I'll live," he mutters grimly.

Bring Me to Life