#Dont Tell The Bride Fic

[cardinalcheerio]

How I imagine the Batboys insulting a random thug:

Dick: FLUBBERNUGET

Jason: I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon.

Tim: Crusty ass bitch

Damian: You are a disgrace to your ancestors, family name, city, self...etc. (goes on til thug is crying)

[bogslob]

Okay so I have recently discovered that on “Don’t tell the Bride” the wedding ceremony is not allowed to be legal so I am now desperate for someone to write a fake dating fic where they fake getting married to have the ultimate party

[bucketbueckers]

TIMELESS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: slight language, fluff w maybe a little angst (im beginning to realize the "angst" is probably just plot) but it's literally not that deep at all (this is a bucketbueckers fanfiction we all know there's a happy ending), AU, soulmates, author won't pretend to understand history, potential misuse of period-typical slang, historical inaccuracies (ask me if i care [spoiler: i dont!]), abuse of punctuation, light violence, poorly proofread

wc: 15.5k

synopsis: Even in a different life, you still would have been hers. OR – two (of the many) lives you've lived with Paige Bueckers, and the one you're living with her now.

notes: im not rly much of an au author but i figured i needed a lil bit of something different after FOTS beat my ass. i've been toying w this idea for a while now 😋 this fic is probably better in theory but i had sm fun writing it (and thinking about pilot!paige and knight!paige kinda drives me crazy) idk not too much yapping from me today but as always i hope y'all enjoy &&& happy munch madness, lets have some good vibes going into game day tmr 🫶

2025

It’s a warm, breezy Tuesday in Connecticut, one of your rare off days, and this is quite possibly the last place you’d expect yourself to be.

Standing before you is an old antique shop. It’s a block away from the apartment you share with your girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, and you pass it every day on your morning jog. It’s rustic, worn at the edges, but there’s something softer about its unassuming visage today. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re out a little later than usual – Paige had an afternoon practice compared to her typical morning ones, so the two of you had lounged in bed for a little longer, soaking in the time together.

Whatever the reason, there was something in the air that compelled you to stop by. So you do.

The sign that hangs over the door is rusted, hanging loosely from one tarnished chain, its words unrecognizable from how time has eroded it. A bell chimes happily as you push the door open. Immediately, you’re hit with the scent of aged paper, ink, and something else that is distinctly vintage. The walls are lined with various art pieces, antique furniture tucked neatly into the crevices of the shop with tan price tags attached. You’re wrought with a familiar sense of nostalgia; there’s something so incredibly touching about the fact that everything in this store had belonged to somebody once, had been something of value, something to take care of. Everything is still in perfect condition. It’s beautiful to know that after someone is long gone, there is still someone out there who will cherish their belongings and take care of them the same way they had.

You gaze around the shop, taking everything in, your steps slow and methodical. You were never a patient shopper, always seeking to get in and get out, but it feels as though the shop is trying to tell you something – trying to show you something. You wander, studying the art, the intricate carvings on aged furniture, until you make your way to the check-out counter. The clerk is absent, although there’s a cardboard box full of old pictures – a black and white photo of a bride, toddlers playing soccer, an elderly couple on a porch swing.

There’s something achingly familiar about them. It makes your heart swell, makes you wrack your brain to discern where you’ve seen these photos before. You sift through the rest, lingering on a few; there’s one of a couple laughing on the porch of what you assume to be their first house, a photo of two people embracing – one is wearing an aged military uniform, which makes your face soften, and the third is two teenagers holding hands, dressed fashionably. That one makes you smile as you take in the lovestruck expression on their faces.

Still, there’s something about the photos that give you pause. You pull out your phone, navigating to FaceTime, and you call the one number you know will pick up no matter what.

The line clicks through and Paige’s face fills your screen. She’s slightly out of breath, her face flushed from the exertion of practice, hair messy and sweat beading at her temples. Despite that, she grins, a sort of smile that’s reserved only for you. “Hey, baby,” she greets, her voice soft, which brings a smile to your face as well. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you say back. “Sorry, I know you’re at practice–”

“We finished early, but I always got time for you,” she promises. “You know that.”

Your smile widens. “Well, I was on my jog, but you know that antique shop in town?” Paige hums in affirmation. “Something told me to go in, so I did. Look at some of these photos I found.” You flip the FaceTime camera, positioning your phone over your collection of photos. Paige leans in a little closer to see, her brows drawing together in concentration.

“They feel…really familiar,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “Like I feel like I’ve seen them somewhere.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaim. “It’s so weird. It’s like I know these people.”

“Wait, go back to that one,” Paige requests. “The black and white one, military uniform.” Doing as instructed, you pull that one to the forefront of the stack, gazing at them expectantly. That’s when you truly take a closer look, recognizing the expressions on the couple’s faces, their facial features. Your breath hitches just as Paige says, “Why do they kinda look like–”

“Us,” you finish.

“Yeah,” Paige murmurs, a little awestruck. “I can’t explain it but like – I can feel it.”

You flip the photo around, your eyes catching on the date on the back, and the subsequent memory hits you like a truck.

1944

It’s a sweltering afternoon in May when your life changes.

Well, changes for the second time since 1941.

Three years ago, the United States declared war on Germany and the adjoining Axis powers following the attack on Pearl Harbor. It was a dramatic shift for the entire country, one that displaced just about every facet of life. Men were drafted, heading overseas to fight, leaving holes in the workforce. Although the reality was bleak and dire, you saw this as an opportunity – for independence, for some shred of equality, for freedom. With plenty of job openings as workers were joining the war effort, you landed a job at a shipyard along the coast.

It wasn’t easy. Far from it, actually. You worked long, uncomfortable hours, hardly fitting in time for a break. You, along with several other women, worked on building, repairing, and maintaining the ships that would be used to transport supplies or men overseas. For you, it was enough – the daily routine, the knowledge that you were contributing to something greater than yourself, that your efforts were making a difference. It was worth it.

You get off your shift sometime in the afternoon. You’ve been up since the early hours of the morning; now, you’re half-asleep, only going through the motions and letting pure muscle memory guide you down the busy streets. Something big is happening soon – you can feel it. You’ve noticed drastically more uniformed men on the streets, whispers of another draft; at this point, your suspicion is a matter of when and not if.

Barely aware of what’s in front of you, you turn the corner, colliding roughly with the person in front of you. They hardly move although you bounce backwards, knocked off balance by both your exhaustion and the fact that you’re so much smaller than the other person. You’re already bracing yourself to eat concrete, eyes shut tightly, when you realize you’re not toppling over; instead, there’s a pair of firm hands holding you by the arms, keeping you upright.

“You alright?”

Her voice is concerned, if a little gravelly, rough around the edges in a way that captures your attention immediately. You open your eyes, your breath hitching, because you’re sure this is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. The street is busy — everyone lost in their own little worlds moves right by you, but at this moment? It feels like time stops, like nothing exists except for you and the blonde woman before you. 

Her hair is pulled up in a tight, slick-back bun, the edges pressed and the golden waves reflecting in the early May sun. Her eyes are a deep blue, almost startling so, but there’s an evident kindness that softens the intensity. Her jaw is sharp, angular, her nose sloping elegantly despite the chisel, but what truly captures your attention is her stature — she’s the tallest woman you’ve ever seen, no less than six foot, and her broad shoulders fill out her khaki uniform service shirt. There’s an emblem pinned over her left breast, wing shaped in the aviator insignia. You’ve been staring for far too long already and the pilot is smiling like she’s caught you. Despite yourself, you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, your voice even, which makes the expression on her face soften. 

“The flyboys would never let me live it down if I ran you over,” she says coyly, her hands lingering just a second longer on your arms before she finally steadies you. Her touch makes you flustered. “Hurtin’ a girl like you is cause for a national emergency.”

You laugh, a tinkling, carefree sound that betrays the way your heart pounds — in a good way. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

With gentle hands, she pulls you under the awning of the storefront you’re standing next to — an antiquities shop, according to the sign, keeping you out of the way of the bustling crowd as she murmurs, “I call it like I see it.”

With a teasing smile, you glance up at her, enjoying the way she looms over you far too much. It’s not intimidating, her stature, but it does make you feel warm all over. She’s long, toned, and you can see the muscle hidden behind her uniform. Her khaki button up is tucked neatly into the waistband of her sage green trousers, the top missing a few clasped buttons to reveal the dog tags hanging from her neck. She looks so put together, handsome and beautiful all in one, and maybe it’s the solemnity of the world around you, but this moment in time feels so peaceful, so right. “Do you, now?” you ask. “And what exactly are you seeing, flygirl?”

The nickname makes her preen, flashing her teeth in a smile that could surely ruin you. “Well,” she begins, her eyes scanning your figure in a way that looks as though she’s in a gallery staring at art, and not actually standing in the middle of a crowded street and staring at a woman who has just gotten off a twelve hour shift, covered in motor oil. Her gaze doesn’t make you feel objectified – far from it, but you’re beginning to think that you enjoy her attention. “I see this pretty girl – gorgeous is more like it, but I ain’t never been good with words. Just actions.” Her lips quirk slightly, reaching out with her thumb to wipe away a smudge of grease off of your cheekbone. Your face flushes, which only makes her features brighten like the clouds parting for the sun. “I see honesty. Ambition.”

“You can tell that much about me just from one look?” you say, a little amused.

“I’d tell you a hell of a lot more if it meant seein’ you again,” she confesses.

You scan her features, not quite sure what you’re searching for – deception, maybe, but you don’t see it. All you see is genuinity, a certain brand of hope that you haven’t seen in anyone’s expression in the last few years. You don’t know anything about her other than the fact that she’s a pilot, an aviator, but a slow smile spreads across your face the more you consider her request.

In times like these, you need all the joy you can get, no matter how short it is. So you teasingly lean in, relishing in the way her body eclipses yours as she melts into you, but you stop her with a hand to the chest. You know she could easily push past it, but you appreciate the way her body goes rigid, like she’s letting you make the call. Her brow raises – a challenge, maybe? – but despite herself, her smile grows, too.

“I’m not that easy,” you whisper to her, satisfied when her breath hitches. You press against her gently and she leans back, acquiescing. “You’re gonna have to work for it if you wanna see me so bad.”

“I can do that,” she promises, nodding emphatically, which makes you laugh quietly – she’d seemed so confident, so composed; now, she just seems eager to impress, to listen to every word you say.

Content, you take a step back, flashing one last smile. “See you soon, flygirl,” you say, enjoying the smitten look on her face, until –

“I never got your name, yardbird!” Her voice carries over the thrum of the crowd.

When you pause, glancing back at her, she seems amused, if not a little hopeful to hear you answer. But again – you’re not that easy. “Find me again and I’ll tell you,” you call back, your promise reaching her ears. You watch as her smile grows; even from afar, you can make out the determination in her eyes, the clear message of challenge accepted.

You’re not surprised to see her again.

If anything, you were almost expecting it. Her eyes had held a promise, the vow that she’d rise to the challenge. She didn’t become a pilot by being unambitious – you were sure that it was the complete opposite of that, having to work twice as hard as her flyboy companions. Any surprise you hold is because of how soon you see her.

It’s the next day and you’re walking home from the shipyard again, taking that same path you’ve taken hundreds of times across the years. You’re guided by muscle memory, weaving around the slow walkers and finding natural gaps in the crowd. When you turn the corner, the pilot is standing under the awning of the antiquities shop again, her hair pinned up in the same, sleek bun, her uniform crisp and pressed. She’s glancing at her wristwatch and as soon as you round the corner, stepping onto the street, she looks up and meets your eyes immediately. A smug smile graces her features.

“Found you,” she calls out, pushing herself off of the wall with a boot to the brick. You roll your eyes, amused, and you meet her in the middle by the doorway.

“You memorizing my schedule?” you ask her.

She shrugs a coy shoulder. “I’m committed,” she declares. “Said you weren’t gonna make it easy for me, right?”

“So she does listen,” you muse.

“Every word.” You smile at her, and it’s then that you realize she’s hiding her hands behind her back. Recognizing your curiosity, she reveals her hands, her smile softening – she’s holding a singular red rose, a rich, dark red in color, and you shouldn’t be surprised, but you are. “Think this is enough to finally earn your name, yardbird?”

You hum, tapping your chin dramatically, which draws a laugh from the aviator. Conceding, you take the rose from outstretched hands, much to her relief. You introduce yourself, listening as she tests the pronunciation on her tongue, smiling at how nice it sounds rolling off her tongue. Then, she sticks out her hand for you to shake as she states, “Paige Bueckers, airforce service pilot.”

She walks you home after that, her hand gentle yet protective over the small of your back. Your conversation is full of laughter, teasing, and Paige flirting with you unashamedly; you like it more than you would ever admit to her, although you’re certain she knows. Despite the fact that this is only your second conversation, there’s something about Paige that gives her the uncanny ability to understand you – it’s like a connection that goes deeper than your accidental run in from yesterday, like she was born to know you and you were born to know her. It’s like you’ve known Paige Bueckers your entire life. It’s a new feeling, but certainly not an unwelcome one.

This quickly becomes your routine. You wake up early, spend your morning and the better part of the afternoon at the shipyard, then Paige walks you home. Getting to know her comes as easy as breathing and being with her is almost enough to make you forget about the chaos in the world. It’s like Paige is your perfect complement. She came into your life in the most unexpected way possible, but the more time you spend with her, the more nights you invite her over for dinner, the more you realize that you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some nights she stays over. Paige blends so seamlessly into your routine that you wonder how you were ever complete without her at your side constantly. In the mornings, she’ll brew your coffee – how she figured out exactly how you took it, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t complaining, make your breakfast, massage your hands (because they were always sore and calloused from working on the ships all day), and walk you to the shipyard every day. At some point in time, she graduated from having a hand on your back to tangling your fingers together, which is something you truly relished in.

Over the month, the two of you get closer. Sometimes you stay at her house, waking up early enough to iron her uniform just to make her day a little easier. Paige tells you that you don’t have to go out of your way to do that for her, but secretly, you like it when she’s still in the grips of sleep and she gets out of bed to wrap her arms around you, resting her chin on your shoulder and watching you smooth out every wrinkle from her shirt. She’s warm, and soft, and dare you say it, she’s yours, even though neither of you have truly discussed it yet. It’s not traditional – in fact, nothing about the two of you is traditional; until recently, it wasn’t normal for women to work, let alone fly airplanes, let alone be in relationships together, but it works because it’s you and Paige. It works because although you’ll never have the vocabulary to describe it, you know this isn’t the first time you’ve met Paige. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared sleepy mornings together. It’s not even the first time you’ve loved her. Whether you truly realized it or not, you and Paige were a story centuries in the making, spanning across several years, decades, lifetimes.

But in a world like this, not everything can be perfect. Your suspicions were right from the very beginning.

“I have to leave,” Paige whispers to you on one quiet, sunny afternoon. It’s June 1st, barely fourteen hours into the day when Paige breaks the news. You’d been working since dawn. When Paige picked you up from the shipyard, she’d been noticeably dim, not nearly as lively on the walk back. You pressed, but she was silent, so you’d hoped that she was just tired from training; then, she’d suggested the two of you go to her backyard to lay in the sun. You curled up next to her, your chin on her chest, smiling as she pointed out the different shapes in the clouds (“That one’s definitely a boat,” you’d said, finger directed at a blob in the sky, to which Paige had responded with, “Y’think so, yardbird?”)

You knew Paige was an aviator. An aircraft service pilot, to be exact. You knew that eventually, she would be called in to fulfill a duty. You just never thought it would come so soon.

“When?” you murmur, willing your voice not to crack. Your hand was resting over her stomach – you can feel how her breathing comes to her quicker, hear the way her heart pounds in her chest. She wants to leave just as much as you want her to, but she knows she’s bound by obligation.

“Tomorrow morning,” she responds. Your heart aches and she can only tighten her arm around your shoulders, her chin pressing into your temple. “I’m flyin’ out to England – all of the Allies will be there. We’ll get debriefed, then… I’m flying twenty men into Normandy to invade Europe. After that, I’ll be transporting supplies and cargo between our bases and the frontlines.”

“Paige,” you try, but the lump in your throat cuts you off.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, trying for a lighthearted tone, but you can hear that it’s weighing on her just as much as it’s weighing on you. “I’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t make me a promise you can’t keep,” you beg, which makes Paige deflate, unable to continue being strong. “There’s no guarantees–”

“I know–”

“And don’t be reckless, you hear–”

“Yardbird,” Paige stresses, her voice cracking on the syllables of her nickname for you; despite the anguish on her face, there’s a calm acceptance, a sort of determination that looks like a promise to return. She squeezes your shoulder, directing your attention to her face. Tears are pooling on her waterline and if there’s one thing that’s always true about Paige Bueckers, it’s that irritating, unmistakable confidence of hers; you can see it reflected in her eyes. She believes that she’s coming home after this mission. You know better than to get your hopes up. “I promise you–”

“Don’t–”

She interrupts you with a stern look, desperation clouding her features now. She needs you to hear this. “I promise I’ll come home to you,” she vows. Paige’s voice softens to a whisper, her eyes searching yours to make sure you’re listening. “I don’t care what it takes. As soon as my mission is complete, I’ll be flying the first plane out of Europe. You and me?” Paige trails off, squeezing your hand like it’s a lifeline. “We aren’t done here. I still have to make you mine.” You murmur her name, but she shakes her head, needing to finish her thought. “I still have to introduce you to my family – to Drew. There’s so much more we have to do together – that we are going to do together. Okay?”

You gaze at her for a few achingly long moments, trying to memorize the blue of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the way her hair is disheveled because she’s usually so put together and that thought alone makes fresh tears spring to your eyes. Before they can fall, she leans up, pressing her thumbs to your cheeks and her forehead to yours. “I’ll write you letters,” she promises. “Everyday.”

You breathe in deep, trying to remember her scent. You know that you still have the rest of the day with Paige, but it feels like she’s already overseas. Gathering yourself, you nod against her, trying to commit the way her skin feels on yours to memory. “Okay,” you repeat, giving in. Her fingers brush across your skin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. She’s scanning your features for any hint of a falsehood, but the only thing she sees is a quiet acceptance, the kind that comes when you know you can’t argue anymore or stop something from happening.

She offers you a gentle, wobbly smile, and it does lift your spirits some. If Paige can believe so ardently in something, then so can you. “I’ll be okay,” she says again.

“I know,” you confess, because deep down, you really do think she’ll come back to you. From the very first moment you crossed paths, you learned that Paige was not one to back down. Now, when her choices are coming home to you or not coming home at all, her decision is simple.

Nothing changes when she leaves. You work your shifts, mind obviously elsewhere, but with what you know about her deployment, you know that you can’t dwell on it too much. You have a heftier workload now, maintaining and fixing the ships, so you get lost in the routine.

The bright spot of your week is the first letter comes a few days after she leaves. Somehow, the worn paper smells like her, and you smile at the sign of her looping scrawl, the borderline chicken scratch handwriting. It makes you think of all of the times she’d leave you notes across your house, reminding you that you’re beautiful and that she’s thinking of you. The memory makes your chest ache, so you push it to the back of your mind.

June 3, 1944

To my yardbird,

I just landed in England. It’s very busy here. It’s beautiful, too, and I think you’d like it. I can see us walking down the cobblestone streets together, maybe sometime in the future when the vendors and stalls are in business again. I would probably say something annoying and you’d shake your head, amused and trying to hide your smile, but I would know.

How are you doing? How is the shipyard? The hibiscuses we planted in May? I want to hear everything.

When I sat down to write this, I thought the words would come easy to me. I spent my entire flight thinking of what I would say to you, what I would ask. I thought it would be easy to tell you how desperately I want you and how I count down the hours until I get to see you again. Maybe God’s honest truth is that these aren’t understandings that can be summarized in one single letter – or truths that can’t be summarized at all.

Do you ever think about how you can look up and see the same sky as me, the same stars? I’ve spent a lot of time in the air. I know the clouds like the back of my hand, the way they move, the way the wind currents will guide me home. I know more about the sky than I know of the earth. In my profession, it’s hard to stay grounded – literally and figuratively, but my time with you has reminded me that there is an importance in returning to the soil, spreading my roots, seeking out a future I previously thought I couldn’t afford. You’ve given me hope, a dream, a love.

On my flight to England, I looked to the west and I saw a star. It shone brighter than the rest, glimmering and sparkling despite the fading night. As I’m writing this, I’m staring at the very same star. It makes me feel as though we aren’t so far apart right now, that you could look up and see what I’m seeing. You and I, we’re still connected, two ends of a red string coated in something cosmic and everlasting. When I look to the sky, it’s like I’m looking at you.

I will be home soon. That is my one promise to you. Until then, I hope you’ll look to the sky and look for me, too.

Yours,

–P

You draft your response immediately and send it off with the mail carrier before evening. You don’t know when it will get to her or if she’ll have much time to write back, but before you go to bed that night, you step outside and direct your attention to the western sky. You spot the star she was referring to almost immediately, the way it twinkles against a dark canvas; despite the ache in your heart, looking at it makes you feel a little less alone.

June 7, 1944

To my flygirl,

You make England sound so peaceful. I’m sure it is made all the more beautiful a country by you being in it. I would love to visit with you, when the world is all right and it’s a warm, summer day. Even if we just explore the cities, you have a way of making each moment feel more significant. You turn the mundane into a memory. Wherever you go, you leave a trail of magic behind you, and I am endlessly blessed that God has put me on this earth with you if only so I could follow it.

I’m holding up. The days are long and the nights are short and I miss you more and more each day you’re gone. According to the radios, you flew into Normandy yesterday and the invasion began. I hope you stay safe. The shipyard is busy – we are sending out more and more ships everyday for cargo and for men. Even more come back for repairs. I rarely get a break as of late, although I know my job is an important one. The hibiscuses are healthy, but they bloomed a little brighter when you were here to care for them. I don’t know how you do it. It is as though these things know you – they know you’re gentle, and kind, and that you have this nourishing, uplifting factor about you. They know of your love as well as I do, of what it is like to be without it.

I find myself writing and then pausing. I have so many things I would like to say to you but this paper can only hold so many of my thoughts. I agree that one letter is not enough to express myself fully. However, I know not to worry. You are thoughtful in ways most people never think to be and you have always been talented in understanding me before I’ve been able to understand myself. There are many things you know but I do like saying them. I miss you – isn’t it funny how we always come back to this? I miss you in a way that makes my chest ache. I miss having you in bed next to me and I miss the way you sing in the mornings. I miss you because you are everything I didn’t know I needed and more than I ever thought I deserved.

Remembering that you are under the same sky as me makes me feel a little less alone. Remembering that you see the same stars, the same moon, the same sun reassures me you aren’t so far away. Remembering that you feel the same love reminds me that you’ll be home soon.

With love,

Your yardbird

Over the course of the next several weeks, you continue to work. You continue to gaze at the sky before bed, imagining Paige doing the same before she goes to sleep. You write to her and you read the letters she sends you. They always start the same – an affectionate “To my yardbird” that never fails to bring a smile to your face. She tells you about her days, never once mentioning the toils of the war, only the beauty of the nature around her in spite of the damages around it. She tells you about the other women airforce service pilots – the WASPs – in her platoon and their ineffable courage. Paige tells you about the ones vying to return home to their families, too, and their unshakable determination to make it home.

You reread all of her letters when the sun goes down. Each and every one of them, starting with the one dated from June 3 to her most recent one. At this point, you have all of her letters memorized from the penmanship to the content. You spend hours with your hands clasped as you utter your hopes, prayers, a constant wish for her to be safe.

The weeks tick by. There’s nothing of note on the radio. You get lost in the rhythm of working, of thinking about Paige, of writing letters to her and handing them off to the mail carrier with the same unwavering expression of hope. You remind yourself that you and Paige aren’t done here, and that she’ll be back soon.

Then, her letters slow down ever so slightly. The Allies are pushing for one more coordinated attack, she’d written to you. I’ll be in the air frequently.

All you could do was wait. And hope. And work.

So, you do.

Four more weeks pass by. In that time span, you only get one letter from Paige in the second week, then she’s silent for the next two.

You try to not let the worry ruin your life.

On August 25, the radio at the shipyard crackles to life, announcing, “The Allied advance has liberated France. The Germans are in full retreat.”

You felt as though you could breathe a little easier, but you were still sick without the knowledge of whether or not Paige was okay. You don’t hear anything for two days.

On August 27, you’re leaving work early, a rare happenstance. Given the relative silence of the last few days of the invasion, you and the other women were able to finish repairs fully on the current batch of ships you were working on and you were waiting to get the damaged ones back from overseas. With nothing else to do, you walk your worn path back home, letting pure exhaustion and muscle memory guide you home. You’re too tired to even think, but you do glance up at the antiquities shop as you pass by. It had become a habit over the last twelve weeks, bringing a smile to your face as you remember the day you and Paige had met.

But you stop in your tracks, letting the bustle of the crowd pass you by as you gawk. Part of you can’t believe it, half-tempted to rub your eyes, convinced you’re in the middle of a dream or that the sheer exhaustion of the past three months has finally caught up with you. All you can do is stare, until–

Paige Bueckers cocks one of her signature, amused smiles, her eyes relieved and fatigued all at the same time. Her hair lacks its usual gel, the edges unruly. Her uniform top is buttoned one lower than usual, exposing the undershirt she’s wearing, and the hem is barely tucked into the waistband of her trousers. She doesn’t look injured, just like she could use a really long nap, but the sight of her makes your heart leap out of your chest.

“You’re early today, yardbird,” she comments wryly, glancing down at her wristwatch. “You got a hot date?”

You drop your bag at your feet, coming into her personal space with three quick strides. Judging by her expression, it’s clear she wasn’t expecting this reaction from you, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you cup her cheeks, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss her. Paige melts into you completely, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against her with an overwhelming amount of relief. She sighs against you, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, but your hands tremble on her face as you taste the salt on her lips. You can’t believe that she’s here right now. After twelve weeks of aching, of hoping, of believing, she’s here. 

You break away from her when your lungs burn, needing to breathe. Despite the tears, she’s still smiling when she presses her forehead to yours, her eyelids slipping shut like she just needs to absorb the moment and breathe you in. You do the same, your hands sliding down to tangle in the fabric of her shirt. She’s firm, she’s warm, she’s alive and she’s in front of you and you have possibly everything you’ve ever wanted right here in front of you. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into her chest, your voice a little muffled, but Paige’s shoulders shake with laughter, dissolving all of the tension left in your body.

“I told you,” she murmurs, her chin pressing into your temple as she holds you close, “I’d come home to you.”

And if there’s one thing that’s true about Paige Bueckers, it’s that she doesn’t break a promise. Not this one, and certainly not the one she makes to you almost a year and a half later in her backyard when the two of you exchange private vows during a quiet, peaceful, summer afternoon, promising to love each other for the rest of your lives.

2025

As quickly as the memory comes to you, it disappears just as fast, leaving you in a daze. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’d just imagined it all or if that was real. Glancing back down at the photo in front of you, the two women embracing in the middle of a crowded street – one a flygirl, one a yardbird, their features so similar and their expressions so loving, you think that it had felt too real to be fake.

“Hey, you alright?” Paige’s voice echoes from your call, concern laced in her tone, and despite yourself, you can’t help but crack a smile because those were the very first words the aviator had said to you. Perhaps there was more truth to it than you thought.

“I’m okay,” you promise, peering down at the photos again. An idea hits you all at once. “You said you finished practice early, right?” Your girlfriend hums, clearly confused with where you were going with this. “How quickly can you get to this antique store?”

Paige doesn’t keep you waiting too long. She makes it to you in record time, the jingle of the bell above the door capturing your attention. You glance up, spotting her, and the two of you share matching smiles as she strides closer to press a kiss to your temple, squeezing your hip. “Alright,” she murmurs. “Lemme see these pictures.”

You hover silently next to her as she sifts through the pile of pictures you’d accumulated. She lingers on the black and white photo of the pilot and the shipyard worker – describing that photo as you and Paige still feels a little too weird, but you watch as her brows furrow, her eyes lighting up with something that looks like recognition. You don’t even have to ask to know that she’s feeling the exact same thing that you did.

“This is insane,” she mumbles under her breath, which makes you laugh a little, amused. Paige holds the photo gently in one of her hands as she looks through the others, finding one of two teenagers holding hands on their way to a dance, presumably, considering the way they’re dressed. They don’t look as similar to you and Paige as the first photo did, but it still brings back a sense of nostalgia that Paige picks up on, too. “You remember prom? Junior year at Hopkins?” your girlfriend asks, nudging you gently.

You resist rolling your eyes. “How could I not?” you say sarcastically. “Someone saran-wrapped the doors so tightly that the principal had to call the fire department just so we could get in.” Paige laughs. Affection blooms in your chest despite yourself, and you grin, too. “We made the best of it, didn’t we?” Paige hums in affirmation, brushing her fingers across the photo before you before picking up another one. It’s two people laughing on a porch. You can tell they’re lovers by their closeness. “Remember when I rented my first apartment and you helped me move in?”

Her lips curl into a fond smirk. By help you mean Paige stayed over every night for a week straight, delaying your unpacking and “breaking in the new crib,” whatever that meant. You’d enlisted her to help with your furniture, your decor, and building shelves, but you’d go to bed in her arms and wake up to all of your furniture in completely different spots. “Oh no,” Paige would whine, a terrible actress to this day. “Guess I gotta stay and help you fix this.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was intentionally waking up at night and “inconveniencing” you just so she could stay a little longer and annoy you, but you suppose the real kicker was she never really needed an excuse to be near you, anyway. You would have let her stay for the week even if it meant she didn’t fuck up the way your furniture was arranged.

“I still dunno why your furniture kept moving,” she muses, still committed to the bit. “You ever call maintenance? Or security or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes for real this time, pressing a little closer. She raises her arm to rest it over your shoulders. You pick up a photo of a 30’s bride, her veil long over her face. It wasn’t a secret that you wanted to marry Paige someday – the two of you had been together since high school and you both had discussed as much; now, she was entering her final March Madness tournament as a Husky. The two of you were so interwoven into the fabric of each other’s lives that you were sure you would be together until one of you took your last breath.

“You look pretty in white,” she comments off-handedly, like she’s slick, but you know better.

You grin. “You think so?” you ask coyly. She hums again, a smile of her own growing on her features the more she stares at the picture of the bride. “Well, I think you look pretty good in a suit, too.”

“Oh, little ole me?” she croons, faux shyness lacing her tone.

“You’re so annoying,” you say.

“You’ve loved me since we were fourteen,” she reminds you – as if you’d ever forget it. “You’re stuck with me at this point.”

The truth was, you’d be content to be stuck with her for the rest of your life. The other truth was that Paige’s ego was already so dangerously over-inflated that it’s days away from popping like a balloon with too much helium, so you couldn’t possibly admit that to her. The third truth was that Paige knows you love her, just as she loves you, so she didn’t need you to admit it to her, anyhow. The both of you were stuck with each other, not that either of you minded.

“Let’s get these?” you request, and Paige nods, scooping up your selected photos in her gentle hands.

But it still feels like you’re missing something. You have your photos, the memory of a life long passed – which reminds you; you and Paige will be having a lengthy conversation about that memory later today – but it feels as though you haven’t seen everything the universe clearly wants you to see. So you link hands with Paige, scanning the shop once more as you search for the missing piece.

It’s Paige who actually locates it after a few moments of walking. She glances at you meaningfully, guiding you down a row of bookshelves, eyes roaming over its contents like she knows exactly what she’s looking for. At the very end of the line, there’s an old, dusty, leatherbound book covered in cobwebs laying flat on an antique table, as though someone pulled it off the shelves to read and then forgot about it. Paige exhales like it was exactly what she was looking for.

She drops your hand to brush the back of her hand over the front cover, getting rid of the dust and the cobwebs, and then immediately sneezes. It makes you choke on a giggle, the mystery and the intrigue of the moment softened by Paige’s incessant allergies, and the tips of her ears flush red as you whisper a quiet, “Bless you.”

When the cover is clean, she wipes her hands on her shorts and opens the book carefully to the front page. You peer over her shoulder again. The penmanship is in neat cursive, the ink fading with time, but still legible enough for you to read. There’s a date in the top right corner reading 1543 September 9. Paige whistles lowly, holding the book a lot more gingerly now, which amuses you a little bit.

You look at the first line, reading, “Father procured me this journal to document my life and my emotions. He believes that it will help regulate me and, in quote, save me from this phase of rebellion lest I make a mockery of the crown. I am only eighteen. Surely, he must understand that the life of a princess is not one for me.”

Paige blinks once. “Well, that’s heavy.”

“Paige, she’s eighteen.”

“Technically, like…” your girlfriend pauses to do the math in her head, “...Four hundred and…eighty sum’.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself, and when you reach out to turn the page, you’re hit with another memory – only this time, you know that Paige is seeing it too.

1543

“Princess, your father is just trying to look out for you. He is just…a little misguided.”

You huff indignantly as you drag your brush through your hair. You truly do not mean to be this dramatic, but indignance just seems to be the main emotion that your father manages to evoke from you. Ever since you turned eighteen, the “of age” marker determining your eligibility to officially inherit the throne, the King – your father – has been nothing short of particular. Exacting. Expectant. If you’re not studying with your tutor, you’re listening in on his meetings, learning the ins and outs of how to run a country. You’re his only heir, so deep down, you understand why he demands so much from you. There’s a short time between now and when your father won’t be deemed fit to run a country. You’re just upset that being the princess means you can’t be you anymore.

There’s a certain degree of freedom you get used to growing up in the castle. You want for nothing – everything is provided for you, no question about it. You have the best education possible, learning from private tutors all over the world – math prodigies, language experts, philosophers. Everything you could possibly want is at the tip of your fingers. As of late, however, it seems that you may just be broken. 

You long to be outdoors, away from the castle and its stuffy, too large walls. You long to do things for enjoyment and not for obligation. You’re eighteen – you want to be with people your age, not the children of the entitled, pompous bureaucrats that your father rubs elbows with. You want to be you, not the Princess, not the heir to the throne, just you.

It seems there are just some luxuries that one cannot afford, not even monarchs with the world at their disposal.

“‘Misguided’ is one word for it,” you huff, trying to not catch too much of an attitude with your chambermaid, Carlotta. It is not her fault, not in the slightest, and she’s been there for you your entire life – even longer than your father has. “I do not want to be–”

Carlotta hushes you, a gentle, cautious hand resting over your shoulder. You clamp your mouth shut. “You must be careful, Princess,” she murmurs.

“There are eyes and ears everywhere,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. “I know. I’m sorry.”

That was another thing you loathed about being a royal – the constant paranoia. It is a well-known fact that your father has enemies. Perhaps that is just a fact of life that comes with being king, a political figure, someone in charge of making decisions for millions of people. It is hard to be free when you’re tailed by your father’s most trusted knights and officers.

“It is all right,” Carlotta assures you. “Now come – you must be ready for the banquet.”

You nod, swallowing back your remark, and you allow Carlotta to help you into your gown.

The banquet goes as well as you were expecting. It’s loud, raucous, and full of minging, networking, and brown-nosing. You’re certain that you’ve never faked as many smiles or laughs as you have until today, but once it becomes socially acceptable, you sneak out the back door.

Or, as well as one can sneak when there’s a knight tasked with following your every move.

You glance over your shoulder. Just before the door slams shut, a tall figure in breathable armor slinks through the gap, following you at a respectable pace. However, there’s something that gives you pause.

As irritated as you are at the prospect of being tailed by your father’s appointed guards, you’ve made a habit of knowing who they are. Tristan is your usual suspect – he’s tall, lean, and his armor is recognizable. There’s a crest on his breastplate, signifying that he comes from a family of nobles, but this knight lacks the decorative chestpiece. Every other day, you’re then followed by Maximus. He is a little shorter than Tristan, although in place of a family crest, he has the traditional knight’s insignia – he doesn’t come from a family of nobles; rather, he’s an experienced knight who worked his way up through those ranks.

Whoever is wearing this suit of armor isn’t Tristan or Maximus, and you know that while your father makes a habit of annoying you, he wouldn’t reassign your patrols without telling you. Feeling your heart beat a little faster in your chest, you lengthen your strides, trying to get away from whoever is pursuing you without giving it away that you know they’re an enemy.

The issue with all of the country’s royals concentrated in one wing of the castle means that the large majority of the knights are assigned to that wing. That means there’s little protection through the back corridors. That means you need to find a way to get the knight off of your trail. There’s a variety of things you could be used for. A bargaining chip. An arranged marriage. Perhaps you’d just be killed entirely.

You hang a left, casting another glance over your shoulder. You don’t see the knight round the corner just yet, but you can hear his footsteps pick up speed. Realizing how dire your situation is now, you will your body into a run, thanking Carlotta for putting you in a pair of sandals instead of the heels your stylist had set out for you. The heavy clank of armor follows you down the winding halls as you breathlessly search for your exit.

To your right is a set of tall glass doors, leading into the palace gardens. Confident in being able to find somewhere to hide there, you push the doors open and run outside.

What you’re not expecting to find, however, is a tall blonde woman sparring in the dark. She spins on a dime, her sword lowering, but recognition flickers across her face once she realizes you’re the Princess. You briefly wonder if she’s a knight, too, or if she’s here to kill you, as well, but you throw all caution to the wind, deciding to trust the blue of her gaze. “Help me!” you exclaim, throwing yourself behind her just as the glass doors burst open and the turncoat knight barrels outside.

You realize, perhaps a little too late, that the blonde woman is not wearing armor. She’s dressed in a breathable navy and white tunic, the knight’s crest emblazoned across the chest, and a pair of worn boots. At the very least, she’s drastically more agile than her opponent (and taller, too, you note, although you remind yourself that there’s possibly a time and a place for those sorts of realizations). 

The armored knight draws his sword, a quiet acceptance in his body language like he knows he’ll have to go through the blonde knight to get to you, but she’s rigid, confident, rising to the challenge completely.

They collide in a flurry of sparks, loud groans, and the clang of metal against metal. The blonde, to her credit, doesn’t budge, but the force of their impact sends the armored knight stumbling. Using that to her advantage, she delivers a swift kick to his abdomen, which makes the knight fall to the ground completely. 

“Yield!” she barks, her blade against the soft part of his helmet.

He pauses, gazing up at her as if truly contemplating it, before his own leg jerks out, knocking her off balance. She grunts, dropping to one knee, and he uses her injury to kick her backwards as well. He digs his sword into the soil, using it to lift himself up. The knight spins his sword in his hand, remnants of dirt flying off of his blade, and he stalks towards her like a predator to his prey. All you can do is watch on in horror. 

You’re so focused on the other knight that you don’t notice her fingers digging into the dirt next to her until she comes up with a fistful of soil that she launches directly at his helmet. He recoils with a yelp, disoriented, and the blonde knight locates her sword, slashing out in a quick motion and catching the soft spot where his knee bends. He staggers again and she slams her hilt into his wrist, causing him to drop his sword. She grabs it immediately, dual wielding both blades, and the checkmate move comes when she kicks his injured leg. He falls to his knees and she crosses both of the swords under his neck again, chest heaving and sweat beading at her temple.

“Yield,” she commands. “I won’t ask again.”

He lifts his head ever so slightly, meeting your gaze across the garden. You stand your ground even though you’re rattled and you can feel your pulse in your fingertips. Barely eighteen and I’m already surviving assassination attempts, you think to yourself, Father would be proud. Then, he drops his head again, defeat in his posture. “...I yield.”

By the time he finishes his sentences, the garden doors burst open and more of your father’s nights enter the garden, brandishing their blades. They catch sight of the blonde knight, swords to your attacker’s neck, then settle their gaze on you, breathing heavily but not a hair out of place. “Arrest him,” one of the captains instructs, and another knight surges forward to deal with the attacker. “Secure the Princess. Alert the King immediately.”

The garden is a flurry of activity as the knights disperse. One group leaves as they drag away your attacker. Another group surrounds you as if forming a wall between you and any potential danger. Still, you can’t keep your eyes off of your savior, the blonde woman whose cheek is slightly smeared with blood. You’re not sure if it’s hers or his, but this isn’t a night you’re going to forget for a while – not because of the attempt on your life, but because of this knight’s bravery, her spur of the moment decision to put her life on the line for you, especially against an opponent with far more protection than her.

It’s nearly stupid. She’d behaved so recklessly, but it was her job. So why do you feel so drawn towards her?

Your father arrives with a security detail of his own. You’re not quite sure what you were expecting from him, but he gives you a cursory look over, nodding in approval when he sees that you’re okay, before he turns to his men. “Who allowed this to happen?” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to, but you think he’s scarier like this – the deadly sort of calm that only comes out when someone is truly pissed. “Who allowed a turncoat knight to nearly kill my daughter?”

His men are notably silent. Your father scoffs, shaking his head, and he turns on his heel, probably ready to storm out until he catches sight of the blonde knight, standing solemnly in the corner. “Who are you?”

Her voice doesn’t waver when she answers, not meeting your father’s eyes out of respect. “Sir Paige Bueckers, Your Majesty.”

He glances at her – armorless, then he glances at the rest of the knights gathered – uniformed. “Why are you here?”

Paige hesitates, looking up to meet your eyes, a silent plea for help. “She saved me, Father,” you answer for her, drawing your father’s attention back to you. She relaxes slightly, gratitude in her expression. “I noticed the knight following me wasn’t one of my usual handlers. So I ran out here to flee and found Sir Paige.” Your father looks at Paige again, studying her in a new light. His quiet contemplation could mean a lot of things. Then, surprising everyone, you say, “Father, I want her reassigned to my guard detail immediately.”

Your father considers this for a few moments longer, then he turns to the captain. “See to it,” he orders. The captain nods emphatically. And with that, your Father returns indoors, his security detail following. The rest of the knights follow until it’s just you and Paige, who stares at you with a mix of shock and curiosity.

You nod at her, softening. “Come. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Paige, unsurprisingly, is not a woman of many words. You don’t expect her to initiate any sort of conversation with you given your status, but she does look at you – a lot – mostly when she thinks that you’re not aware of it. There is nothing inherently inappropriate about her gaze. You can tell she’s curious. You can also tell that she knows she has a duty to do. Her gaze flickers on and off you to scan the hallways for any sort of potential danger and her hand hovers over the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist as if someone would jump at you both from the shadows.

Functionally, she hasn’t said a single word to you since you met her, yet you battle the urge to get to know her. You know that would never be allowed – a royal fraternizing with a knight. It breaches every code of conduct and tradition that you’ve been raised to recite by memory. Despite your knowledge, there seems to be a pull between you and the knight, one that you’re finding harder and harder to resist as you watch her brows tent in concentration, her eyes studying everything about her surroundings as you lead her to the medic.

When the two of you reach the infirmary, she doesn’t say much else, either, only nodding or shaking her head when the physician asks questions like “Does it hurt when I do this?” or “Do you feel any pain here?” You do watch as her face screws up, discomfort in her features, when the physician pokes and prods at her knee.

She’s fortunate, according to the physician, that it is only bruised and she should expect to recover quickly. Taking an armored boot to the knee when you’re wearing only a thin tunic is usually grounds for a fracture or a broken bone. Paige takes the diagnosis in stride, her eyes trailing after the physician as she leaves the infirmary to fetch some herbs from the greenhouse, and shamelessly, your eyes find the knight again. She doesn’t glance at you, but you can tell that she’d like to, so you break the silence to say, “You don’t need to be so formal with me.”

Her throat bobs as she argues, “I do.” Then, as if you’d forgotten, she reminds you, “You’re the princess. Treating you otherwise would be disrespectful.”

You cock a wry smile. “And would disobeying my wishes not also be disrespectful, Sir Paige?”

She pauses, not expecting that one, and finally, she glances up to meet your eyes. Her eyes are startlingly blue, alert despite the exhaustion and the lingering pain of her battle, but they’re kind. They’re soft in a way you would never expect from a hardened knight. They’re gentle when they appraise you, studying your features, and her features relax as if she’s looking at you – truly looking at you – for the first time. “I suppose it would be, Princess,” she agrees. “I apologize.”

Your smile softens, too. “Considering you saved my life today, perhaps we can call it even?” you suggest, trying for a joking tone, and you find that it’s well-received when she chuckles. “Thank you for that, by the way. I would not be here without your courage.”

“I was just doing my duty,” she murmurs humbly. “My only wish is for you to not have had to witness that.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” you say reflexively.

Paige glances at you again, her eyes lingering on your face before a slow smile curls on her lips. “I’m beginning to see that.”

You know she doesn’t intend to say that in any sort of way, but the warmth of her gaze, the approval in her eyes, and her words alone are enough to make your cheeks flush. It’s wrong – that much you’re sure of. You haven’t known the knight for very long, but there’s something so magnetic about her, like you’ve met her before, like you know you’ll be safe with her. This conversation feels like one you’ve had before. That thought doesn’t alarm you as much as it should. Paige just feels right.

Then, she raises her hand, rubbing her face, and she doesn’t realize that she’s reopened the small cut beneath her eye. “Oh,” you say, not nothing much of it as you reach out for a piece of gauze, “you’re bleeding.” Motioning to the wound and ignorant to the way Paige’s breath hitches, you ask, “May I?” She nods and you step between her parted legs, hovering over her as you gingerly reach out with the cotton, fingers light and delicate against her skin, cleaning away the blood. You and Paige are inches apart by now, and the sudden closeness makes your hand tremble, especially when your eyes flick up to meet Paige’s. The expression on her face is almost awestruck, reverent in a way that makes you forget about how dangerous this is. You don’t realize that you’ve planted your free hand on her shoulder, holding onto her to keep her from moving, nor do you realize how her hands grip the edges of the table, knuckles white like she knows it would be wrong to touch you, but the way her breath stutters makes it so obvious that she’s desperate to regardless.

Sobering up, you lean back, red tinging your cheeks as Paige exhales deeply. The physician returns to the infirmary at that time, grinding together herbs in a mortar and pestle and muttering to herself absently. You and Paige exchange a glance, the heat of the previous moment softening as you both put some space between each other, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve stumbled across something that you shouldn’t have – the chemistry between you and the knight. You’ve always been curious and daring by nature; you know yourself well enough to know that you’ll track down that spark and see where it goes, even if it means sweeping the ashes under the rug after it ignites into something you can’t quite stop.

For now, you have to play it smarter. All eyes are on you as you prepare to take the throne from your father, and the last thing you want to do is jeopardize Paige and her future, even if you’ve already done so by assigning her to your personal guard.

Beneath the professionalism, the practiced stoicism that you see right through, you recognize that very same spark reflected in Paige’s eyes – the curiosity, the determination, the willingness to press the match to the kindling if you’d so much as asked. You know this is risky, that this energy between you and Paige is something that will splinter the foundations of the life you’ve grown so accustomed to.

And the worst part of it?

You wouldn’t even mind if it did.

Paige assimilates seamlessly into your routine. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the knight, who adjusts to her new position with a startling quickness and efficiency. Given the recent attack on your life, your father arranged to have her moved to a room only a door down from yours in the Royal Wing of the palace, believing that having her close would allow her to protect you better. She becomes your shadow of sorts, although you had to put your foot down early on in your new…partnership, and force her to walk side by side with you instead of the infuriating ten or so feet away.

“Being close to me would keep me safer, wouldn’t it?” you’d questioned her, by no means trying to be coy about it.

Paige had smiled softly like she knew, amusement and acceptance in her features as she agreed, “I suppose it would, Princess.”

She follows you everywhere – your royal meetings, your appointments with your tutors, to the dining room, and well, if she’s found in your bedroom, listening to you ramble about your latest project, then you’d say it’s for your own protection as much as it’s for the growing friendship between the two of you. When Paige isn’t worried about her professionalism, she talks. A lot. It doesn’t bother you at all. You’re content to listen to her stories, her experiences, her life, how every choice she made throughout the years led her here. Selfishly, you’d think that inadvertently, her choices had led her to you, although you don’t voice that thought at all.

She grew up in a small village a few hours away by horseback – Storrs. It isn’t well known for much except for the cold winters that the locals loathe. She’d recounted her childhood with a fond smile on her face, even the uncomfortable parts like the time she’d hurt her knee severely while sparring or when her parents had divorced. Divorce wasn’t as familiar to you, having been raised in the castle where your father remained with your mother until she passed, even though there wasn’t any love between them after your birth and their failure to conceive a male heir – although that’s a story for another day. When you voiced as such, wondering about the casualness in which she and her parents viewed their separation, she’d merely shrugged and said, “Sometimes people just don’t feel the same love that they did before. Why stick around to force something when your heart’s not in it?”

You’d felt as though that applied to a little more than relationships, considering how you didn’t want to be queen. As much as you trusted Paige, you didn’t think it was the time nor the place to drop that kind of confession on her.

While there’s no more attempts on your life, Paige sticks by you fiercely. If it were anyone else, you’d probably be pissed at the lack of independence, but there’s something about Paige’s company that you cherish, even if it’s just her standing watch at the door while your tutor teaches you philosophy. You like having her around. That thought should scare you much more than it does. For the first time in a really long time, it feels like you’re free. Growing up, you’d never had many friends. Everyone your age was always too aristocratic, too pompous, too entitled. You’d tried, but you could just never get along with them – it was always like you were on the outside looking in no matter what you did differently. With Paige, it feels like you’re shedding all of the past desires to fit in. She makes you feel as though you don’t have to fight your way inside just to be accepted. She makes you feel as though there’s always a place you’ll belong, even if it’s just with her.

So while there aren’t any more attempts on your life, that doesn’t mean your life gets easier. As you progress in your training and you begin to take up more royal duties, there is an increase in the number of suitors that make their way through the castle. Most of them have been arranged by your father, seeking to find a husband to rule next to you – or rather, someone for you to stand next to while they rule. They’re either princes of distant kingdoms, or the high-ranking sons of nobles. You hate all of them. They’re either too old, too stuck-up, too arrogant, or too…male. You’d longed for visions of long, blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes, the gentle way in which the knight spoke to you yet the fierce way she protected you. None of these men were her, and you could tell your father was becoming upset by how often you turned them away.

If you hated them, then you’re not quite sure what word to use to accurately portray the amount of disdain that Paige feels for them. You can see it in her expression alone, the white-hot hatred that burns in her eyes even as she speaks to you politely, calmly. You see it in the way she stands unyieldingly next to you, a hand poised over the hilt of her sword as if she was ready to dispose of whichever groveling idiot was trying to propose, if you wouldn’t deny them yourself. You see it in the way her entire demeanor shifts, the way she grows more confident when you’re alone and her hand curls around your waist and she dips her head down to your ear to whisper, “None of them deserve you. Not a single one of them.”

If Paige hadn’t already ruined you for anyone else, then you’re sure she ruins you completely after that.

At first, you think it’s just her commitment to duty. Paige’s entire job is to keep you safe, protected. If she feels as though these suitors would be too violent, too uncaring, too unfit for you, then you suppose she was well within her right as the princess’s protector to feel however she wanted to feel. Then, you think it’s just hate. She knows you almost as well as you know yourself, if not more. At this point, you’re both a little more than princess and knight. You’re friends who share a mutual duty to a kingdom. However, you realize all too late that it’s actually jealousy.

She stands behind you, her tall stature imposing and intimidating as she stares down the last suitor you had scheduled for today. He’s the prince from a kingdom down south. His name is Oscar and if you had to be honest, you got a bad feeling from him as soon as he strutted in, a black and red cape billowing behind him like he’s already king and has nothing to worry about. You’d even felt Paige stiffen behind you, but you promised your father you would at least talk to your suitors before rejecting them (and you were not keen on sitting through another lecture from him).

The interview goes terribly. You can feel Paige’s mood worsen the more Oscar speaks. He interrupts you countless times, talks over you, and when you do get to speak, he dismisses it like it’s trivial and continues rambling on about his success or his fortune or how well he could lead a kingdom. You knew the conversation was over as soon as he promised he wouldn’t take anymore than five mistresses and you had to stop Paige from jumping across the table and stabbing him entirely.

So, you politely tell him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re what I’m looking for in a potential king. I have to look after my people.”

You see the shift in his expression before he even raises a hand. You just couldn’t react fast enough to block the swing.

But Paige does. She catches Oscar’s wrist in her hand, her grip so tight that the tips of his fingers were turning purple and he was choking on pain. Then, she slams his hand into the wooden table before you, the surface almost splintering from the force of it. You can hear a sickening crunch, but all you do is raise your brows as Paige leans over you, her gaze set firmly on Oscar. “We’re done here,” she murmurs, her voice low and threatening. “Raise a hand to the princess ever again and I’ll kill you myself. Do I make myself clear?”

You don’t hear what he says, too stunned to focus on anything but the vein that protrudes from Paige’s neck, the challenge laced in her tone, the way her response has left a warm feeling deep in your belly. He scurries out with a metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, the door slamming shut, and you and Paige are left alone in the conference chamber. Paige breathes heavily next to you, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder in both consolation and apology, yet all you fixate on is the way your thoughts race.

Paige is saying something to you, but it sounds like you’re underwater. You push out your chair, standing as she rambles, and you turn on your heel to meet her eyes. There’s still a lingering fire in there although it dwindles the more she talks, concern and something else you can’t quite place taking precedence. Before you have the time to talk yourself out of it or remind yourself of how wrong this is, you curl your fists in the fabric of her tunic and you pull her down to your level.

She immediately freezes against you, the words caught in her throat releasing in the form of an indulgent groan as she finally registers that your lips are on hers. When she relaxes to kiss you back, the intensity is almost overwhelming, like the fire from earlier has returned. She grips your hips possessively, backing you into the table and lifting you onto it for better leverage, one hand dropping to hold your thigh and the other curling around the back of your neck. Paige leans forward, pressing against you like she couldn’t stand to leave any inch of space between you.

The kiss is hazy and it makes your mind spin in the best way possible. You sigh against her, welcoming the intrusion when her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and she holds onto you like she’s scared that you’ll disappear if she lets go. Paige kisses you like you’re hers, which you may as well be. You’re hers to protect, hers to hold – not the princes’, not the nobles’, not anyone else’s.

When you both break away from each other, chests heaving, her voice is rough, low, wrecked when she whispers again, “None of them deserve you.” Her eyes scan yours, her thumb brushing across your pulse point and her breath hitching like she can feel exactly what she’s doing to you. “Not you, the princess. And especially not you, the girl whose heart is as pure as it is kind. The girl who I…”

You swallow thickly, feeling the heat in your cheeks and fighting the urge to pull her back into you as she trails off. “And you do?” you murmur. “Deserve me?”

“I’d fight a hundred men and a hundred men more if it meant proving that to you,” she vows. You know her well enough by now that you don’t need her to prove anything more to you. She already has. Your heart is hers. “This isn’t just a duty to me,” she confesses a few beats later, her voice hardly above a whisper like she’s confessing a secret. “It’s real. What you are to me is real. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing will,” you say, confident and assured. “I’m safe with you.” Paige nods, her hands warm against your skin, and you press your temple to hers to admit, “For you, I’d run away and leave it all behind.”

You feel her freeze against you, surprise, mostly. She leans back to meet your eyes. “Princess, you don’t mean that,” she says quietly.

You nod vehemently, your fingers tightening in the fabric of her tunic. “I do, Paige, I swear it.” She softens, taking in the conviction in your tone. “I don’t want this – I don’t want to marry someone else. I don’t want to be the queen. I want you, a life of peace, where I don’t have to worry that someone will try to kill me or if I’m making a decision that will kill my people. I want peace.”

The silence lingers. There’s a realization in the wake of your declaration that in your position, you could never afford peace. Princesses don’t get peace, or a life of ease, nor do they ever get the one they love. Knights don’t get peace, or a life of ease, nor do they ever get the one they love. You know you’d give it up in a heartbeat if you could find the courage to. You study Paige’s features closely, waiting for her to speak. She swallows thickly before she does.

“Storrs,” she whispers, confusing you. “My village. We can go there – just say the word and I will take you, I swear it. I don’t owe anything to this kingdom. My loyalty is to you. We’ll be safe there, free, and you can do everything you’ve wanted – you can teach, you can explore–”

“Okay,” you agree.

Paige pauses. “What?” she asks, trying to keep the hope at bay.

“We’ll go to Storrs,” you repeat, a smile growing on your face.

“You mean it?” Paige murmurs, her voice cracking, and all you can truly do is cup her face in your hands, kissing her once more. This one is softer, the perfect seal to the promise you’ve just made to each other, and it feels more right than a crown on your head ever will. Her embrace makes you feel more secure than a legion of your father’s men ever could. You know in your heart that this is where you belong.

Happiness doesn’t last for too long. 

When you wake up the next morning, you can feel that something is off. Paige is usually already awake, standing guard at your door and waiting for you to come out for breakfast. Now, there’s an unusual silence that lingers and it makes you feel on edge.

Instead of Paige at your door, you find Carlotta, wearing an uncomfortable expression on her face. Dread wraps its fist around your heart, squeezing tight, and your chest hurts when you ask, “Carlotta, what’s going on?”

“Your father has requested your presence in the throne room immediately,” she says to you, her voice shaking. You swallow thickly, afraid of what waits for you. You cast an uneasy glance at the door to Paige’s room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but still feeling as though something is terribly wrong. Carlotta follows behind you as you walk through the winding corridors, anxiety coursing through your veins.

The scene awaiting you in the throne room is not one you could have ever prepared yourself for. Your father sits idly atop his throne, an almost nonchalant laziness in his body language. He’s surrounded by his usual guard detail. Your body burns with anger when you realize Oscar is standing right next to him, his hand wrapped in gauze and a splint, a malicious expression on his face. But what truly devastates you, what makes fear seize your heart entirely is Paige held firmly in the knight captain’s grasp, her hands and ankles shackled. She looks no worse for wear, only disheveled and her bun mussed from an evident fight, but her eyes burn bright with hatred and something that looks like failure.

“My daughter,” the King calls across the room. Everyone directs their attention to you, but you’re not prepared for the amount of grief and shock on Paige’s, like she wasn’t expecting you to see her like this. “Come – we have much to discuss.”

There it is again. That same steely calm from the night in the gardens. Your father isn’t the kind of man to yell – people with power and trained men at their disposal have no need to raise their voices – which is why his demeanor in this situation makes you fearful. Not for yourself, but for Paige.

“I’m not a man who shies away from admitting when he’s wrong,” your father continues when you step closer. “Accountability makes for strong leaders. I’ve always told you that, haven’t I?” You scan his features, your gaze giving nothing away. He’s not looking for a response. “It seems I’ve made a mistake in knighting an individual. Where she goes, trouble follows, such as the night in the garden. And now, with the suitors.” Your father cocks his head, looking perplexed. “Prince Oscar has suffered several broken bones and a fractured wrist due to…your knight being unable to control her anger. Alas, it has come to my attention that she has also filled your head with lies, deceit, and empty promises.”

He stands, his sea of guards parting for him as he makes his way towards you, towards Paige. “If she wants to run away, so be it. If this turncoat knight no longer wants to give back to the kingdom that has made her, that has given her the life she has now, then so be it. What I will not allow is for her to manipulate my daughter – the Princess – into leaving with her.

“So,” he muses, ushering Prince Oscar forward, who gazes at you like he’s won. “We are here to make an example. The monarchy will not be mocked. My daughter, tomorrow at sunset, you will be wed to Prince Oscar. He will be your king and you will inherit the throne. And your knight –” he spits the word like it’s venom, clear distaste evident in his features, “–will be executed at nightfall for treason against the crown.”

Your ears are still ringing.

Your father’s revelation left you numb, reeling. You watched as his men dragged Paige out of the room, her eyes locked on yours in surprise, disbelief, and ever-present grief. Your father had more to say to you, but you weren’t listening. Being forced to marry Oscar of all suitors was at the back of your mind. All you could think about for hours on end was your knight will be executed at nightfall. The word executed circulated through your mind on repeat along with images of Paige’s eyes, betrayed and disappointed all at one.

This wasn’t the plan. You and Paige were supposed to run away. You were supposed to leave kingdom life behind and go to Storrs together. You were supposed to live a life of peace in a small village where the crown couldn’t possibly find you. You’re not supposed to marry Oscar, or watch the love of your life be executed. This was all so horribly wrong.

You’re confined to your room for the entire day, your father feeling as though you would find a way to escape or look for Paige. He knows you better than you’d expected. With nothing but time on your hands, you wait. You cry. You scream and you break the mirror in your room because when you look at it, all you can see is the way Paige had stood behind you as you asked for her opinion on your dress and her jaw had gone slack before she whispered, “I think you’re the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen.” You spiral, because you were so close to making it out but your father and Oscar have derailed your plan.

At nightfall, 24 hours away from Paige’s scheduled execution, Carlotta knocks at your door. She lets herself in when you don’t respond. You hardly look up, even when she takes a seat on the foot of your bed. She’s silent for a few moments before she says, “I’m sorry, Princess.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound scraping against your throat. “It’s not your fault, Carlotta.” Even if it was, you don’t want to think about it. This woman has raised you since you were a baby. You weren’t sure if you could ever handle that heartbreak.

“It’s not,” she agrees softly. She clears her throat. You can almost feel her hesitation. “I was next to your mother when she passed on,” she admits. That confession makes your heart skip a beat. “I held her hand as she was taking her final breaths. I’d loved her, you know. Your father never knew. He didn’t care to. But when I watched my life’s greatest love die, it was a pain unlike anything else I’d ever experienced. I thought a part of me died that day. Your mother, however, entrusted me with something special to her – a part of her. She made me promise to take care of her daughter – the Princess – and to this day, you are the most important person to me.”

“Carlotta,” you murmur, tears pooling in your eyes and your voice cracking. “What are you saying?”

“You love her,” she says, like it’s more fact than fiction, like it’s something as obvious as the sky is blue or the grass is green. “Sir Paige. She is your life’s greatest love. I couldn’t save my love. But there is still hope for yours.” She stands, drawing your attention as you feel her move. There is a folded piece of parchment in her hand. Carlotta presses it into your hands. “Read this, and do not lose your faith, Princess.”

Carlotta leaves before you can say – before you can ask anything else of her. Your mind spins as you look down at the paper in your hands, at Paige’s familiar, sloped handwriting. Fingers trembling, you unfold it, and you begin to read.

Princess,

I did not think I would get to speak with you after they dragged me out of the throne room in handcuffs, so you will have to forgive me if this letter is incoherent. It is difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea – the fact, rather, that I will be dying at nightfall tomorrow.

Being a knight, I had always known that my death would be imminent. My profession is not safe. My duty is to put my life on the line for the kingdom, for the king and the princess. I knew of that long before I picked up my sword for the first time. I had always imagined that it would be in combat – perhaps I would be fighting those hundred men and the hundred men more that I had spoken of. Perhaps I would be the lucky one and die of age after living a life of valor, dedication, and virtue. Execution had never crossed my mind.

If there is one part of my life that I could pick out and say is the greatest moment of it, I would say that meeting you is it. Not being knighted for the first time or my father teaching me how to wield a blade. It was you. It is always going to be you. You are my purpose, my reason for fighting. You have made my life worth it, even if we were only a short time.

I want you to know a few things. First, this is not your fault. If I knew the outcome from the very beginning, I would choose you everytime without question. A moment with you is worth an eternity wherever my soul takes me next. Second, do not give up. You are kind, courageous, brilliant – I know you will think of something. Third, I miss you. I have only been apart from you for a few hours, but I miss you; if I knew of a way to make you miss me the way that I do, I would never dare to make use of it for you are undeserving of such an all-consuming ache. The fourth is that I love you. I planned on telling you once we made it to Storrs, after I had introduced you to my family. You deserve to know.

You are my greatest love, Princess. In this life and the next I will never give up on searching for you.

Eternally,

–P

By midafternoon the day of your wedding and Paige’s execution, you can tell that something has shifted once more. The palace is eerily silent. Again. It almost makes you worry, but after considering that your life couldn’t get any worse, you decide that the silence is a problem for you in the future. For all intents and purposes, you’re still essentially trapped in your room, and you spent the better part of the night and the entire day leading up to this moment rereading Paige’s letter to you. It didn’t make you feel any better about the situation, but you try to remember Carlotta’s words to you. They give you strength when you feel like all else is failing.

The minutes tick by until you hear tapping on the glass door leading to your balcony. Believing it may only be a bird, you think nothing of it until the tapping persists, louder this time. The glass is textured, so you can’t see out of it, but you reach for the first sharp object you can find – in this case, it’s one of your heels – and you creep towards the door, pushing it open with caution.

You freeze immediately. The heel slips out of your grasp and Paige is standing before you, her tunic rumpled and exhaustion in her eyes, but she doesn’t look hurt, and that’s all you can truly be thankful for. “I was beginning to think you weren’t home,” she murmurs, a coy smile on her face that is not befitting of the moment, and you could sob as you throw your arms around her neck. She wraps her arms around your waist, lifting you off of your feet. Paige buries her face in your neck, breathing you in and sighing in relief – you’re both okay. You don’t know what to say, stammering through words that don’t make any sense, but Paige squeezes you a little tighter, shushing you.

After a moment, she places you back down on the ground, drinking you in like she can’t believe this is real. Then, she smiles softly. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she says quietly. “Carlotta is waiting for us at the stables. Get your bag and whatever else you need. She’ll take us to Storrs.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, all you can do is nod, wiping your eyes as you retrieve the bag you’d packed after you and Paige agreed to leave. You make sure to slip into a pair of more comfortable shoes and you don’t forget to grab her letter stashed under your pillow. When you’re ready, she guides you down the wall of the palace and into the garden below, creeping through the bushes until you reach the stables. You hug Carlotta so tightly that she groans, laughing, and together, you, Paige, and Carlotta make the journey on horseback to her village.

Her village welcomes you and Carlotta in – they’re definitely a little shocked, but they’re happier to have Paige back and safe. She introduces you to her family, her mom, her dad, her step-parents, her brother and her step-siblings and they all treat you like one of their own, a blended family that’s no less full of love. They own a small little shop, one that dabbles in selling antiquities and artifacts from ages ago. You can see yourself splitting time between working there and teaching the village children, but most importantly, you can see yourself free, in love, and happier than you ever would have been in the castle. It will surely be a national emergency when the King realizes that the princess, the knight, and the chambermaid have all escaped, but you think that’s a problem for someone else.

For the record, Paige does tell you she loves you – in person, not through a letter – that night after you’ve been fully introduced to everyone and her mothers worked together to make a hearty dinner for you and Carlotta. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of having – a love that’s wholly yours, a life to share with someone who cherishes you, and the freedom to live the life you’ve always wanted. You were always destined to find this – destined to find Paige, to love her, to give her your heart completely; the two of you have always been connected by that red string of fate and wherever your souls take you next, you know you’ll find her there, waiting for you.

2025

The memory fades and you and Paige blink in tandem, your hands still resting over the book as you look at each other. Almost no time has passed, although the both of you look like you’ve lived a whole new life entirely, which you may as well have. Paige breaks the silence to mutter, “I was a knight in a past life and in this one, I have to do homework?” Her disbelief makes you laugh, all of the tension dissolving as she joins in with you.

“Says you,” you retort. “I was a princess.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “You ain’t never letting that one go.”

“Nope!” you chirp happily. Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off of her face as she closes the book gently. You intertwine your fingers with hers, giving her a squeeze. “Hey, you okay?” you ask.

Paige nods, her smile widening. She leans in to kiss you softly, which makes you grin against her. “Never better,” she assures you. “I was right, though.” You hum, gazing up at her, and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “You are my greatest love.”

“You’re mine, too,” you promise, wrapping your arms around her neck as she pulls you into a hug that feels lifetimes in the making. “We’re timeless, aren’t we?”

[onskepa]

hiii!! i’m new to this whole request thingy :/ but i was wondering if you could make a fic about aonung with a runaway bride basically something about him being in love with a girl who isn’t inlove with him so she runs away to avoid being with him BUTTTT he finds her a couple years later mated to neteyam!! you don’t have to do it it was just a thought thank you!!!>.<

ooooooooooooh okie Im gonna love doing this one! Sit back and enjoy~!!

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Tilayro

It is now or never. She can't handle another day for as long as he is around. Quickly and silently tilayro packs only the basics that she needs. Making sure she doesn't alert anyone in her home. She hopes that one day, her family will forgive for what she was about to do. May Eywa forgive her. 

Guilt threatens to rise up at the back of her throat, tilayro quickly shakes her head, no, now is not the time to doubt or have second thoughts. She will never have another chance like now. 

Making sure she has everything, taking one last look at her home, tilayro leaves. Running down the beach to where her skimwing is, quickly connecting with her dear friend, tilayro leaves. Making the daring move to leave the borders. Leaving her home and all that she ever knew. But this had to be done. Tilayro would rather do anything else than be forced to mate with a man who will never see her as she is. 

Neteyam slowly wakes up, letting his eyes adjust to the light in his home. Letting out a yawn, he gets up silently, as much as he could. His arm was tugged by his beloved mate who still sleeps soundly beside him. It truly never gets old, waking up and the first thing he sees is the love of his life. How did neteyam get so lucky? He thanks Eywa every day for having his beloved by his side. 

“Mmnn…stay…” he hears her whisper, reaching out to grab his other arm. 

Neteyam chuckles, how can he resist her? 

He lays down once again as she gets closer to his warmth. Taking in her scent, neteyam lets himself be wrapped around with her arms. Its still early. He can attend his duties a little later. 

Tonowari and his family along with a few clan members were getting ready for their long trip to the forest. Tsireya was pretty excited to meet a whole different clan and explore areas she never thought she would see. Ronal kept neutral of it, but tonowari can tell she looks forward to it. Ao’nung seems to rather stay and leave. 

“Why must I go? It has nothing to do with me” ao’nung complains for the hundredth time. Tonowari sighs for the hundredth time that day. 

“It has everything to do with you. You are the clan's future olo’eyktan, as well as tsireya being the future tsahik, so you have no option but to come as well” tonowari explains. Ao’nung just sighs and packs whatever he needs to pack. 

“No option, it seemed she did,” he muttered. 

Tonowari quickly turned to face his son again, “ao’nung, I know it still bothers you but its been 2 years now, your mother will look for a better match for you” 

“Better match, there will be no other like her and she is gone, a coward she was” ao’nung said with spite and hate in his voice. 

He still hasnt gotten over it. Still hurt from what the girl did. Tonowari understands his son. 

His betrothed ran away before they were able to be one. 

“Thats it, keep moving your legs to stay afloat. Tuk dont stop moving your arms” tilayro was swimming at a remote lake with some small na’vi children. Teaching them the basics of swimming, along with tuk who is her best student in the group. 

Seeing the position of the sun, it was time to end the lessons. 

“Alright everyone, lets get you all to the edge, come on come on” she tells while gently guiding them back on land. She makes sure they are all dry and drops them off to their families when they reach the village. Tilayro likes teaching the children how to swim, its part of her since birth. 

“Til!” tuk jumps up and down as she holds her hand making their way to the sully home. 

“Are you excited?? Aren't you arent you?” tuk asks rather excitedly. 

Tilayro giggles, “yes Im excited, its not everyday we meet a whole new clan” 

Weeks back Jake and mo’at announced they will be expanding their alliances to other regions of pandora. One of the first clans they managed to get in touch with is a reef clan. Its specific name has not reached tilayro’s ears yet but was given the position to assist when the clan arrives. Teach them how to adjust in the forest climate and environment. 

“Maybe you will see your family again?” tuk asks, imagining seeing more of tilayro’s people. 

“Who knows?” she responded, but secretly, she wishes she would never see anyone from the metkayina clan ever again.

Few days have passed and everyone in the clan prepares to welcome the coming clan that will hopefully be a new ally to the omatikaya. 

Neteyam, being stressed out of his mind, is forgetting things all over their home. 

“The feathers, where are they??” he mutters to himself. 

“Right here my love” tilayro giggles lightly as she places the elegant feathers in his braided hair. She makes sure he looks presentable, first impressions are everything. Checking every detail is good and perfect. Her love is perfect. Truly embodied that of a warrior. 

“Don't be so nervous ma’nete, everything will be alright. If eywa allows it, all will be well” she says to comfort neteyam. He sighs deeply, bringing her hands up to his face. Her teal blue skin met his dark blue. A stark contrast in shades but when together, they blend beautifully. 

Neteyam stays silent, just feeling her hands bring great relief. 

He moves a bit to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight. Stroking her hair, smelling more of her natural salty sea scent mixed with that of her favorite fruit, all his anxiety washes away. Only bliss and relief takes over his heart. 

“Please stay beside me, I need you there” he begs. 

Tilayro smiles, “of course, I will always be there for you” 

Calls echoed throughout the forest, alarms and signals were being given. The reef clan has arrived and are being guided towards the omatikaya village. Jake, Neytiri and mo’at were at the border to welcome the reef clan. 

Greeting each other, Tonowari smiles, feeling very privileged and honored to stand before the legend himself. His family greeting the same, all a bit nervous as they are clearly out of their comfort zone. 

“Toruk makto, it is a great honor to meet you” tonowari says. 

Jake pats him on the shoulder, “jake is fine, it is also an honor to meet you face to face” 

Pleasantries were said, ao’nung trying his best to look like an adult to his family and the olo’eyktan. 

Mo’at guided them into the village, many omatikaya were very welcoming and gave gifts to the reef na’vi. They all felt welcomed and easily enjoyed this whole new side of pandora they never seen. 

Ao’nung especially. 

The forest is beautiful, the village even more. Animals he has never seen or heard of were there right before his eyes. How the people behave and look, their style is so different. He was starting to enjoy it. Until he wasn't. 

“Hello, my name is neteyam. This is my mate, tilayro”

She promised she would be by neteyam’s side. Always. But at this moment, she wanted to run away and hide in the darkest cave the forest has. 

She has to be dreaming, this isnt real! 

Ao’nung was standing before her, being shocked as much as she was. 

“Your…mate…?” he asks very silently. 

Tilayro can feel her heart pounding against her chest, its drumming rhythm going against her ears. Sweat started to form from her forehead. She can pass out at any moment. 

“Yes, we have been together for 2 years now” 

OH how tilayor wishes for neteyam to stop talking right now. He is giving more fuel to ao’nung without even knowing. 

Even he seems to be confused by the sudden change of the boy in front of him. 

Until suddenly, ao’nung’s teal blue eyes stared straight into tilayro’s eyes. Feeling cold chills run down her spin. He is angry, very angry. Feeling his anger rise, she needed to say something, anything! 

“So this is where you have been this whole time…” was all he said before punches were being thrown.

A huge crowd was forming in the middle of the village, tonowari, ronal, mo’at, jake and neytiri had to stop what they were doing to see what was going on. 

To tonowari and ronal’s horror, they see their son ao’nung fighting with the olo’eyktans son, neteyam. 

“Hey hey hey!” jake called out. He and tonowari quickly get through the crowd and towards their own sons. Both of them were a bloody mess. Neytiri notices tilayro and tsireya crying in distress of what they witnessed. Kiri was there to comfort them both but neytiri still heads over to make sure they are ok. 

“What happened?!” tonowari demanded to know from ao’nung. 

His son had a bloody nose, scratches on his shoulders and a black eye forming already. But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as ao’nung was ready to pounce on neteyam again. 

Neteyam in return looked ready for round two until tilayro got in their way. 

“You!! You mated with him?!” ao’nung shouted, accusing her like she did a heinous act. 

Tilayro was shaking but stood her ground, protecting neteyam. 

“I did! We mated before Eywa! It is done and there is nothing you can do about it!” 

Ao’nung can only stare at her, as thought she betrayed him in the worst way possible. He couldn't form any more words once she said it. 

“Oh shit…” was what came out of kiri’s mouth, quickly piecing together what is happening. 

Jake, while still holding neteyam back, stared at neytiri who understood what he was feeling. 

[I'm getting a sense of major deja vu right now] he thought.

Within the massive tent that had the leaders inside including neteyam, ao’nung and tilayro inside, no one was happy with what occurred. It was a serious situation that could tear what little could be salvaged between the omatikaya and the metkayina. 

While tonowari is furious with his son, same with ronal, both were beyond shocked to see tilayro living among the forest na’vi. And mated no less. That in itself brought more confusion. 

“Start talking boy, I want a clear honest answer” jake demanded. He was in no mood for humor or light hearted jabs. Kid or not, someone threatened his son, and to an extension, his daughter in law. 

Ao’nung looked down at his hands, feeling shamed for what he did. Letting his emotions get to him, but just seeing tilayro brought a wave of new found anger he thought he could never with hold. 

“Forgive me sir, I let my mind be shrouded in emotions. I should have never beatin your son and cause a gap between our clans” ao’nung says. 

Jake was not satisfied. 

“Let me be more clear, I want an explanation, not an apology. Why did you attack me son?” 

Tonowari and ronal shared a look of concern, yes what their son did was horrible but they fear what punishment the olo’eyktan would do once ao’nung confesses. 

“Tilayro…” ao’nung begins to say. Remembering his short time with her back at his home. 

“When your son said tilayro is his mate, I lost all control. I grew mad, angry and jealous. I shouldn't, but I did. Not liking it, I punched your son out of my own selfishness. I am sorry. I will accept any punishment you will give me” 

Neytiri leaned forward a bit, “what is tilayro to you?” she asks.

“We were arranged to mate,” tilayro starts to say. 

She and neteyam were back at the comfort and safety of their home. She does her best to heal his wounds while making sure to not inflict anymore pain. 

“My family and his believed it would be good if I and ao’nung were to be together. He was already chosen to be the metkayina’s next olo’eyktan. He just needed a tsahik. I was unfortunately the one” 

Neteyam didn't speak, letting her say what happened 2 years ago. 

He remembers exactly the day he met her. She was lost, had no knowledge of the forest and was scared of everything. Tilayro clearly stood out for how her body was different from the forest na’vi. Wider arms and lets, a thicker tail. 

He remembers helping her adjust, remembers being close to her, remembers how he fell in love with the mysterious aquatic na’vi. 

“For how long were you arranged…” he asks softly. 

“Hmm…for a long while. I thought it would work. That I could be a good wife and a good tsahik to our clan. I was foolish. They had us spend more time together. In a way I was glad, because I was able to ao’nung’s true side” 

Neteyam observes his mate’s expressions closely, her eyes filled with sadness and her body movement slow and not really concentrated. 

“What was he like?” 

Just from beating the shit out of that fish boy, neteyam concluded that ao’nung currently is still a child who has no control of his emotions. Still holding some grudge and won't let go of things no matter how long ago it was. 

“Selfish. A brute, always wanting to be praised and having his ego stroked” tilayro lists as she rolls her eyes. 

Neteyam slightly smirked, “isn't that what you do with-” 

“I'm still talking” 

“Yes ma’am” 

“He always took me somewhere that mostly had his bunch of friends. Really I think those friends only hung around with ao’nung simply because he is tonowari’s son. He always showed off to me, to an extent its fine. But he did it way too much. And it was all about him, for him, to him. He never had a moment to spare for me. Never properly courted me. So I came to the conclusion that we aren't fit. I could not for the life of me spend my life with someone like him…so I….left” 

A tear fell from her face, “I left one night and never looked back. But I don't regret it. If I hadnlt left…I wouldn't have met you” 

Neteyam brought tilayro closer and gave her a loving kiss on her sweet lips. 

“Im glad you did. You are the best thing to ever happen to me and I think Eywa every day for that”  he says. 

They shared a few more kisses before he picked her up and spun her around. Laughter filled the air once more. 

A few days later the metkyaina packed their stuff to head back to their home. What happened tarnished what was supposed to changed their lives for the better. Ao’nung felt ashamed. He did throw the first punch. Now he must deal with the consequences. 

But seeing tilayro, even from a distance, is panged his heart. 

He wasnt good to her, he knows that now. But ao’nung secretly did care for tilayro. How he showed it wasnt the best. Look where it lead to now. But he couldnt leave without saying anything to her. It was no or never. 

“Where are you going?” ronal asks her son, seeing him make his way to neteyam and tilayro. She panics, thinking what worse can her son do. 

That omatikaya warriors were quick to stand in front of the couple, not letting aonung get close. 

“Please, I wish to say something. I promise to not cause anymore harm” he pleads. 

IT was a long minute before neteyam hesitantly agreed. 

Ao’nung slowly gets closer to the couple, he bows his head. 

“Im sorry for punching you. It was not my place to say terrible things and much less hurting you. I know I ruined everything and I will work on improving myself”  he says. 

Neteyam didnt say anything, only a mere hum. 

Then ao’nung turned to tilayro who was showing fear in her eyes. 

“Im sorry…for everything. I know I didn't do a lot to show I was good for you. That I hardly put any attention on you like you deserve…I did and still do care for you tilayro. Im sorry I never showed it until it was too late” 

Tilayro can feel the genuine honesty coming from him, he was messing with her. He was being truthful, which is something she thought she would never see from ao’nung. 

“Please, treat her well. Tilayro is a good person, too good even for me” 

Ao’nung and neteyam shake hands, “thank you” he spoke. 

One last looked was shared before ao’nung left to join his clan. Not looking back, ao’nung and the metkayina begin their journey back home. The omatikaya looked after them. 

Neteyam wraps his arm around tilayro, wanting to feel her skin touching his. 

“He is right, you are a good person my love. A good woman, a good mate. Even I must confess, I am glad he wasn't the one for you” 

Tilayro releases a light giggle, placing her head on his chest. 

“You will always be the one for me neteyam” 

Choosing what she wants and how she wants, tilayro knows that is the best feeling. Having the freedom to whom to love and be genuin. 

Aaaaaaand that was it for this one! I hope you all liked it! Until next time! See ya!

---------

Tilayro = freedom

[cvsmixnaya]

a lando x desi!reader marriage fic. Omgggv just imagine all the lil functions and tradition it'd be sooo cutee

Mehndi laga ke rakhna

OKAY SO. i did get a request similar to this so im just gonna combine both so i hope yall dont mind!!! the other request i got was basically this but it just mentioned that lando was telling y/n that they’ll get married like this one day and i wanted to include that cause it’s so cute🤭 also the unfortunate truth is that i haven’t been to a lot of weddings. the only wedding i remember very well was my aunt’s wedding from when 10 years ago(i was 9. fuck that’s crazy) but i did my best with this.

Ever since Y/n took Lando to her friend’s wedding. The thought of marrying her never left his mind. All he wanted was to marry her but the way her culture does it. Growing up in India meant a lot of traditions, festivals, wedding events, etc.

When Y/n asked Lando to come with her to her friend’s wedding, he said no at first but after attending all the events, he was mesmerised. He loved every single one of them. The mehndi, the sangeet, the haldi. all of it

The day of the wedding, as both of them watched her friend marry the love of her life, he wrapped his arms around her beautiful lengha whispering

“One day, I’m gonna marry you exactly like this”

She smiled said she couldn’t wait for that day to come. And boy that day came so quickly. With the blessing of her parents, he proposed to her a month or two later and immediately got to work.

Lando basically saw a new side of his fiancée. Full of stress and making sure things were right. Slowly she started to lose her mind cause she had to come up with the guest list, find the venue for all the events and Lando was starting to see how much goes into a desi wedding.

But once all the events took place, it felt magical.

Mehndi

The mehndi event was fine. Y/n was basically sitting in one place for hours getting mehndi (henna) done on her hands and legs. Lando kept coming over to give her company smiling like a child the whole time.

She was wearing a simple kurta that belonged to her mom with a dupata. She saw Lando come up to her and sit next to her careful not to ruin anything

“Hello my lovely bride” He greeted her placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Hi baba. Hogaya tera? (you’re done?)” She asked him and he happily showed off his palm with mehndi on it.

“All done and dried”

She smiled at his little goofy self. They enjoyed each other’s company even though she basically couldn’t move but she leaned into him resting herself as she watched the design come to life on her body.

He loved everything about this. He knew he was gonna love the coming days of this era.

Sangeet

The sangeet was everyone’s favourite cause they get to dance for the couple and her friends had so much planned for them. The drivers invited actually reached out to Y/n’s friends and asked them for help so they could do a dance and that’s exactly what they did.

Everyone was getting drinks, having conversations and when it was time for the performance, they gathered around the floor stage to watch the performances by friends.

Lando and Y/n were sitting at the front while the rest were standing and two of her friends entered with the song “kamariya” playing making her cheer since it was garba dance which she adored so much. The dance was so good and when it was changing to the next song, the rest of her group joined in.

The next dance had the song “kukkad” so the boys and girls were dancing together. The reason they chose this song was cause student of the year was their favourite movie during their childhood (and also because of Sidharth Malhotra).

A few performances later came the best for last. Carlos, Oscar, Max, Charles and George entered the stage making the crowd go crazy. Especially Lando since he gets to see his friends dance to the best item song ever which was “fevicol se”

They boys did great. Y/n was so proud of them she got up with Lando and went to hug them after their dance and everyone joined the floor having the time of their life.

Haldi

Lando and Y/n decided to keep the haldi event small with close friends and family only. The haldi event was basically smearing tumeric/haldi on the bride and groom. It’s normally a day or two before the actual wedding and held it at her house.

Everyone put tumeric all over them. In their hair, skin, clothes. Everywhere. It was a short event but very intimate and fun. So many pictures got taken over the days and many memories were made.

The wedding

the day was finally here. The day Lando and Y/n get married. How were they feeling you ask? nervous as hell. No cold feet. No. They knew they wanted to do this. It just felt too good to be true. They couldn’t believe this was actually happening

Y/n was in the dressing room getting ready for the big day. She wore a beautiful Manish Malhotra Lenhgha and her makeup was stunning. Her mother was helping her get everything together.

“I’m so happy for you baba. Meri bacchi ki shaadi ho rahi hai (my daughter is getting married)”

She said before kissing Y/n’s cheek aggressively making her laugh.

“Love you too mumma. zyada rona matt (don’t cry too much)”

Her mother laughed but just pulled her cheek. After a while, the time came. They entered and Lando was already sitting next to the fire mesmerised by her beauty. She was already so beautiful but seeing her as bride struck something in him.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with this woman. As she sat down with him the words immediately left his mouth

“You look so beautiful…”

Y/n blushed. After all these years, he still managed to get her all flustered smiling like a little girl.

“Still know how to make me blush after all these years huh?”

She said teasing him.

The ceremony was beautiful. Both families were crying. Seeing their children get married was something they weren’t ready for but loved it regardless.

The wedding eneded in a few hours and it was magical. It was everything the both of them wanted. Once they headed back, they stepped into the house for the first time as husband and wife.

Lando immediately kissed his wife. Still processing that this woman was now his wife. He pulled away saying

“Welcome home wife” He said booping her nose making her tear up a little out of happiness.

“Welcome home husband” She returned immediately hugging him whispering

“I love you. I can’t wait to spend the remainder of my life with you”

He felt so happy hearing that

“I love you too. I’m so excited to spend my life with you too”

They got the life they wanted and deserved. It was the best time of their life and when all the photos came, they spent a lot of time looking at it and deciding which ones to put up on their wall.

It was a good wedding indeed.

[silviakundera]

can I say that if the battle had played out differently then I have 1000x confidence in Qian Zhao & that emperor eventually banging at least once.

i know this is of no thematic or spiritual import but it's important TO ME.

look im just saying, he was like.., here here come huddle over my v stabbed body and that man HURRIED to hover anxiously and, without prompting, proclaim they should totally die together. Qian couldn't have held a paper clip but his majesty was ready to do all the work 😭😂

fellas is it gay when--yes. yes it is. idc I was feeling it.

Good night. Sleep tight. I'll mostly likely kill you in the morning

[bi-writes]

I was literally telling my sister about mail order bride yesterday like

"You dont understaaaand its not an i-can-fix-him fic in a way thay women are men's therapists. Theyre being empowered to heal themselves through acts of kindness to each other!!! By loving each other theyre learning to love themselves!!!!! She breaks a plate and is scared, but he shows her thay she is safe, and in tern she lifts the pictures of his dead family to face upward!!!!!"

And then i started crying a little

<3333

[arsonlookers]

If only

If only I confess to you first before ..... you realize you love her would I have a chance? If only I'd gone abroad and didn't meet you, would I have a better life out there? Would I find somebody to love me back? would I finally be loved? If only... I didn't love you...would I become happier? As I stare at you far away to be seen...is it even needed to be far when even if I was the most closest to you, you still chose her...see her... love her...

If only I dare to tell you how I feel If only I told you how beautiful and handsome you are when you stare at the horizon if only I told you how much I love your eyes If only I told you how much I love your hair How cute you are when you have that little smile if only I was there when you met her... so that I can prevent this... If only I accepted my feelings a lot sooner If only I persisted If only I didn't cherish this friendship If only I didn't become the 'closest friend' if only I becomes your first If only I become your lover If only... if only I didn't see you and feel this way for you if only I didn't find you interesting if only you weren't my type if only I didn't find you beautiful charming cold but lovely kind...

If only you had seen me the way you see her...

If only I was at that altar by your side wearing a white wedding gown, making my way to you, making you smile and cry at the same time.

Smiling at the most Powerful man crying being said to be the most cold-hearted person in the empire,

in front of me making my way by your side,

and be your bride.

but even these what-ifs come true...

tell me...

...Would you choose me over her?

...

do I have a chance over someone you clearly are destined to? do I have a chance against the plot you called Destiny? tell me... Do I?

"I guess not... "

With your eyes closed you imagine that it is you who he marries, who he loves, who he will spend his lifetime with.

"just a little bit... please.." you mumble to yourself not wanting to give up on this fantasy.

to give up on him.

Betrayed by the crowd cheering for the two newlyweds far from your hiding spot, the fantasy you oh so built for. gets crushed.

your lonely heart gets crushed as they cheer for the two. "congratulations" "wooohooowww" "congrats!" "wish u the best!" the whole place was filled with cheer and excitement.

You opened your eyes, wanting to see him one last time.

Out there he shines the brightest smile full of love and satisfaction... But that look is not yours... that smile was not for you.. he is not yours... not even a strand of hair.

Tears slip in your eyes as you watch from afar, watching your beloved be married and tied to another woman... You have no control, no power to ever change the fact that he loves her,

that you will be just his

'Closest Friend'

if only....

Hello! onlookers! A Good day where ever, when ever, whoever you are:> for this fic I was originally have thought about Regis floyen from "father I dont want to Be Married" when Regis inlove to Amelia and marries her not knowing that y/n his 'closes friend is in love with him... but then I have plenty of thoughts and characters in my mind that fits this fic.. so that is why i did not specific whoever the characters just the scene and how painful it is... for example claude and diana, childe and lumine,zhongli and guizhong, vanitas...ehem! and plenty more! That is why have the freedom to imagine the characters that you like! kind of dedicated to second leads...which is us hehe Anyway Thanks for reading and have a safe and lovely DAY!!

[oldangryslytherin]

ok i dont kow what hthe fuck happened or what did i do but this was a prompt in my inbox and its now just not there??? whatever i ll post it so i can link it to the fic

Cuckold AU: Voldemort, Diary Tom and Harry basically becomes Julius Caesar, Mark Antony and Cleopatra.

Am leaving another cuckolding prompt. This is an ABO, forced marriage AU. While Voldemort divests Harry of all autonomy and power, it's he who has the last laugh

Voldemort kidnaps Harry at end of Sorcerer's Stone. Comes to know that his mother's love shields him. When he gets his body back 3 years later, decides to marry him. It goes as well as expected I.e not at all. Aka plot stolen from 90s Bollywood films

Soo, Hermione decides to accompany Harry to confront Quirell. And that changes course of history.

In a bid to save Hermione, Harry attacks Quirrelmort. Quirrelmort survives but barely. He stuns Harry. Vee leaves Quirrell so that the latter can kidnap Harry to his lair.

3 years later, Voldie resurrects using Harry's blood and the usual schebang. Decides to make him a child bride and keep him captive.

Vee knows Harry will die than marry him, so uses Diary! Tom to gather his attention.

Harry falls hook line and sinker... (Coz he doesn't know Tom is Vee) and agrees to marry him.

Diary Tom comes to care for him but values his own continued existence more at least at 1st. Voldemort makes him corporeal by allowing him to absorb Locket and Cup as well as Peter Pettigrew's soul and makes him the High Reeve (basically right hand man) of his empire.

Vee tricks Harry into marrying him. Harry faints at the wedding seeing his groom.

Their marriage is as traumatic as you can imagine. Harry finally complies as the lives of his friends are at stake but he ain't happy.

But he secretly begins to rebel. He mixes genco biloba into Vee's drink (a herb that impacts male fertility) 2 prevent pregnancy.

In a fit of revenge Vee tells Daily Prophet that Harry is a barren omega. Paints himself as the self sacrificing Alpha,

When Vee goes away on terror missions...

An affair starts.

Harry proves that the rumors surrounding his infertility is untrue and does get pregnant 🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

Vee suspects the child is not his. But the DNA tracing Potion proves the child is indeed his.

Aka, Harry does a Cersei Lannister on Vee with Tom.

[denkilightning]

i would love a quiet realization for jay rather than a big one. like something subtle. maybe a distracted ras telling jay to go find something in the ninja's quarters, and when he goes there he comes across something small, like nya's side of the pendant and realizing it matches with his. Or another small yellow pin that he goes with the one he used to have.

And when it starts coming together in his mind slowly, he looks back to ras, whos talking normally with cinder or jordana about something. jays whole world falling apart and no one notices.

cinder might clap him on the back, asking if he wants to go for a drink. Jay shrugs him off. And later maybe, in the dead of night, when Cinder offers Jay a drink in his room -

"What would you do?" Jay taps his pen against the mirror, "if you find out everything was a lie?"

"Find a way to un-find out, probably," Cinder takes a drag of his cigarette. "There is nothing better than ignorance in this world."

got kind of fic-y but still.. just the quiet turmoil going on inside jays head in the middle of a battle when ras slips up and says something he shouldn't have, when something matches up a little too well and the battle wages around him, people fighting - and jay just standing there. Feeling sick.

Maybe he won't even try to find out more. Maybe he'll concoct his own delusion, his own world to escape the horror of his reality. So deep in denial that nothing can break him out of his fantasy realm.

The other wolf mask warriors will say it's a waste, probably. that such a pretty face - jay's face, a face made of all sharp edges and porcelain and looking like he was wielded with deadly precision - is bestowed upon a person who's fucked in the head.

It won't matter to cinder, though. He just prefers Jay that way.

HE WOULDVE MADE SUCH A LOVELY BRIDE WHAT A SHAME HES FUCKED IN THE HEAD!!!!!!!!

cant believe taylor wrote champagne problems about jay walker actually

but yes yes yes, id love for it to be a slow realisation.

i actually like an interpretation where walker knows he used to be a ninja, even before the tournament.

Thats why he resents nya and the others. And one thing about jay is that hes an excellent liar when he wants to be.

jay knows that used to be his family and he sees them with new kids, going on walks hand in hand with new people, and all he can think about is the wounds he suffered from after running away from admin. because in all this loving, powerful family, after half a decade none of them searched for him. none of them found him and none of them saved him.

he was alone, without even a ghost of himself, planning his way out of the realm of madness, running from the entire world that wanted to kill him until ras saved him.

i think he slowly pieced it together. a post online here, a person at admin talking about a blue ninja there, an archived photo from a pre merge magazine.

none of it brought any memories back. not a dream, not a feeling of recognition.

no memories dont stop the cold anger when ras slips up. knowing ras is lying to him in his face. no dreams of them dont stop him from laying awake at night, tracing his scars and tattoos and wondering which one of them patched them up. no recognition doesnt stop him from fury when seeing them for the first time.

but yes i believe hes very fucked in the head and most of the wolves think of him as the crazy one of ras entourage. the mastermind behind ras, someone you can trust to plan extremely well and someone you do not want to piss off unless you have a death wish.

and yes i think cinder loves all sides of walker - the cold and calculating, the white hot rage, the shaky confusion. he enjoys all of him. simple as that.

and gods thank you for "there is nothing better than ignorance in this world". such a good quote for cinder characterisation.

but also the mental image of jays world falling apart around him and no one noticing - spectacular and i hate how vividly i can relate

[deedala]

✨ weekly tag wednesday ✨

thanks for tagging me @heymacy @energievie and @mybrainismelted !! 💖

(disclaimer: there is presently a glitch with tumblr that only allows you to tag 5 people per line in your text posts. to remedy that, you can separate your tags into different lines as i have at the bottom of this post to ensure that everyone that's tagged knows they've been tagged!)

**

name: deanna

age: noel

your time zone: EST (or apparently EDT currently as its during daylight savings? when it goes from UTC-5 to UTC-4. Time is a construct.)

what do you do for work? i help color other peoples comics

do you have any pets? narp

what first drew you to this fandom? i had tried several times to watch shameless since it started but kept getting turned off by how gross frank was lmao. i really like cameron monaghan though and back in 2022 i was just in a good place (apparently) to finally push through (and skip!!) the gross frank shit and watch the show. i think i watched some of it. and then i went and just watched gallavich scenes on youtube? and then i went BACK and rewatched all of the actual show? over and over again lol. my love of cameron monaghan and shameless's vibe just finally clicked into place amen.

are you a morning person or a night owl? i guess moreso a night person since i suffer desperately from revenge bedtime procrastination. but also at the same time i dont like sleeping in very late either or itll feel like the whole day fucked. but also i wanna sleep for 9 hours.

what are your hobbies? tv and film enjoyer, drawing, reading, video games, being silly

how tall are you? 5'2" or 157cm (please help me reach the things on the top shelf)

if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? iceland? ireland? new zealand? ...really into lands ig

favorite color? mint green

favorite book? the masked empire by patrick weekes still holds this spot

favorite movie? the fall, the eagle, love and monsters, princess bride, the mummy, vampire academy

favorite fic? intro to quantum dating, cooperative gameplay, fine art of falling for you, love is a ballfield, none the wiser, two of your earth minutes, the menagerie, apotheosis, ma--*the microphone is forcibly removed from my hands*

favorite musical artist: chappell roan, cake, petey, dove cameron

what is your average screen time so far this week? thats none of my business

what's the first app you open in the morning? discord~

how long have you been on tumblr? 12.5 years

finally (and i know this one is hard) tell me a fun fact about yourself: i dunno if its a *fun* fact but i used to be a licensed cosmetologist. i know how to do all the things i just realized i hate interacting with customers and could not bear to carry on with that a career after about a year of it lol

and now i shall tag some precious nuggets who can play or simply accept this offering of a🫸 face squish 🫷😚 @darlingian @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @thepupperino @metalheadmickey @softmick @callivich @vintagelacerosette @squirrel-fund @creepkinginc @whatwouldmickeydo @gallawitchxx @mickeysgaymom @suzy-queued @crossmydna @gardenerian @mmmichyyy @tanktopgallavich @rereadanon @heymrspatel @the-rat-wins @iansw0rld @loftec @palepinkgoat @themarchg1rl @jrooc @thisdivorce @blue-disco-lights @sam-loves-seb @sickness-health-all-that-shit @samantitheos @lee-ow @sleepyfacetoughguy @transmickey @lingy910y @tsuga-of-mars @ardent-fox @purplemagpie @captainjowl @wehangout @mikhailoisbaby 💖💖💖

[a103-chris-mm]

MOOD BOARD AU THAT ARE UPCOMING OR I HAVE ALREADY DONE (for sturniolos)

pirate

cyberpunk(done) posted

steampunk(done) posted

daycare worker(done) posted

wonderland(done) posted

neverland(done) not posted

vampire(done) posted

100 acre woods (done) posted

halloween town/ nightmare before Christmas

coraline(i recently found out that someone had already done an au story. i just wanted to say i did not intend to copy them i simply had the same idea. please go look at their story. i however will not be making a story i will just make mood boards which will obviously be very different then theirs) @onevison their coraline au is amazing so go check it out (done) posted

holes

greasers/the outsiders

mphfpc

ballet + book store owner

kinder teacher of sister(if you dont get it now you will later)

spy

crime investigators

wizard of oz

mythical world

sirens

penpals

elves

stranger things

alien

witch forbidden love ( if you dont know now you will later)

cowboys

breadboy and princess(hope this makes sense)

street racer

death timer

tangled (done) posted

princess and the frog(done)posted

apocalypse

maze runner

hunger games

old timey jazz

20s to 2000s (anytime inbetween i might do mood boards based off these time periods/probably not including the bad things happening during them)

hotel translyvania

twee gf (like if chris or matt and a girlfriend with this aesthetic)

goth gf (same with other)

bnha(or at least some sort of super power au)

newsies (im obsessed okay😭)

harry potter

percy jackson

gravity falls

teen beach movie

corpse bride

battle royale

10 things i hate about you

kinda wanted to do like a highschool one or even cooloer a monster highschool (yes like monster high) but obviously not exactly or who knows maybe it will be exactly monster high

harry potter

mbav

model+photographer/assistant

hockey(very specific maybe)

office coworker(because of their tour video)

jennifers body

breakfast club

snow queen/king x fire king/queen

NON STURNIOLO MOODBOARDS

laufey

annaka fourneret

alright that’s what i have typed and im too lazy to type the rest but there will be more than what i just wrote (if you couldn’t tell im obsessed with mixing fandoms and my interests. i basically would make an au for everything if i could) i obviously will have my own ideas(not based off movies or shows) like the steampunk one

lastly if you already did these aus im sorry i don’t mean to copy i just haven’t seen them yet but i would love to see em

actually one more thing- I DONT WRITE STORIES/FICS i would love to if i could but unfortunately im really bad at writing which is why i love moodboards so much. they can make it so i create my ideas without writing. if i end up getting better or giving writing a try then hurray

[trekkele]

im sorry to bother you i just have a question. do jewish people have like superstition(?) to follow to banish ghosts or evil spirit or bad luck and the like? like christians do holy water, muslims do ayatul kursi, various indigenous religions burns herbs, what do jewish people do? im planning a fic involving ghosts and this far im not sure i can trust google tbh every article i read says different things..

Ooooh this is such a fun question! Ok so caveat, I’m Ashkenazi so I can only really answer from that pov, and even then every country would have had their own twists on folklore and traditions.

The reason you might be having a hard time finding something is that (and again, one jew, one experience, only one opinion) we don’t really have ghosts like that. By ghosts i mean a benevolent spirit whos a remnant of a soul, because souls always move on. Your options for “reincarnation” would be fresh new start as a baby, or reborn as an animal or object searching for the one person who can give you forgiveness and/or help you complete a vow/mitzvah.

So like, a popular superstition was that if a stray cat is following you, its really the soul of someone who wronged you and you should face it and say “mochel loch” (lit: i forgive you) three times, so that it can move on and leave you alone.

If you want an evil spirit, you dont have to use a Jewish method of banishment because according to jewish tradition spirits/demons can actually be any religion and the method of banishment would correspond with their own chosen faith. Mostly i think we used like. Conversation. To get them to leave? Ngl i dont know much about it, but the idea of the jewish kid sitting down and debating the demon into leaving is delightful.

Bad Luck, which we would call Ayin Hora (lit. evil eye) has lots of methods attached to it. Common one that pretty much everyone i know has heard of is these little red string bracelets. The origin is probably related to the yom kippur service but im not looking it up rn. Thats preemptive tho, you put it on new babies or cute kids or brides to ward off bad luck before it can arrive. Theres also lead pouring, which is very controversial because it doesnt really have a basis in anything.

Honestly i couldve given one answer and its “gather a minyan (group of ten Jewish adults (traditionally men)) and daven as a group in the place thats causing trouble”. Bring a rabbi if you think the demon is going to be good at debate, bring a yeshiva student if you just want to annoy it into leaving.

Also if you want to send me a specific article or idea you had i can totally tell you if it would/wouldnt work (based on my knowledge) (not that i have knowledge of banishing ghosts, but on judaism)

Also i know i mentioned this up top and i wrote all this from memory without checking anything, but one jew can really only give you one or two (sometimes three!) opinions. You can always ask someone else!

[weirdozjunkary]

I made another small fic for the movie version of the MVA AU cause I think its fun. It might evolve into its own thing unrelated to MVA, but I really like this funny au of an au

Wedding crasher

(Another movie MVA AU fic oneshot)

The sun beamed down on the beautiful Hawaiian beachside. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. Beautiful it was. But maybe too much.

Triiiing—Triiiing! Triiiing—Triiiing!

Toms phone began ringing before Rachel and Randal could exchange their vous. “Sorry! Sorry! My bad! I thought it was on silent!” Tom nervously chuckled as he shit off his phone. He revived daggers from the bride who already hated his guts.

Triiiing—Triiiing! Triiiing—Triiiing!

“So help me, Thomas!” Rachel shouted at him.

“Sorry! Sorry! Let me just take this! I’m so sorry!” He said and ran off to the side to take the call as silently as he could. “What?!” He silently shouted at the hedgehog from his phone. “This better be an emergency, or so help me I’ll…. What’s that noise?”

“Oh uh… there is a little bit of an emergency!” Sonic sheepishly said. The wind blowing wildly into the phones receiver.

“What’s going on? Why are you so close to the camera? Did you get into trouble again?”

“You could say that….” He had no idea how to tell him what had happened. I mean, how do you explain that you grew 50-feet in one knight, turned blue, an angry echidna has teamed up with a man that you both thought was dead by now, and now you are again running away from them with an unconscious fox in your palm because they want you dead. Actually, knowing Tom, he wouldn’t really be that surprised by any of this.

“Oh my god. Do I really need to come home, now?

“No no no! You’re good! I just need you to throw the ring I gave you, like right now!”

“What? Why?”

“Listen, I got only one ring on my right now, and it won’t be big enough! I need you to throw it, NOW!”

Big enough? What the hell did he mean by that? Was he bringing a truck through or something? “Okay, just hold on a minute! How do I even do this?!”

“Just picture where you want the ring to go! Now picture this!” Sonic struggled to turn the phone around to face the front of him. There, what Tom saw was the massive snowy mountains of Siberia.

“Why are you in Siberia?!”

“JUST THROW THE DAMN RING!”

At the alter, though trying to enjoy the moment, Rachel noticed Tom, silently yelling to the hedgehog whom she suspected to be at the other side of the phone. She sighed. Of course, that little devil had caused enough destruction to her life, even if it was minor. What was he even doing now? Oh god, was he really bringing that little idiot here? Now of all times?

She watched as Tom threw the ring he had in his pocket and created that familiar golden portal that she had seen Sonic use at least once before. But what she didn’t expect was for it to suddenly double in size. The sight managed to catch everyone’s attention.

Screaming came from it. A booming scream that grew increasingly louder and louder, and Tom grew increasingly more and more shocked. He jumped out of the way just as a giant hedgehog fell through it. The ring disappeared not long after.

“Ugh… ow…” Sonic groaned, slowly sitting up from the now ruined grass.

“S-Sonic?” Tom said warily. “Are…. Are you alright?”

He waved a hand to him. “Hey. Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good, good… because YOURE IN SO MUCH FUCKING TROUBLE!”

“Language!”

“DONT BACK TALK TO ME! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?! YOU GREW FIFTY FEET IN TWO DAYS?!”

“Actually like five minuets.”

“WHAT?!”

“Okay, Tom! You need to calm down!” Maddie said, putting a hand on him. She pointed to the hedgehog. “Now YOU! Talk! Now!”

“Okay, long story short. I got hit by presumably this magic emerald which caused me to be like this. Robotnik came back with this echidna name Knuckles and now they’re trying to kill me! I grabbed Tails and- wait- TAILS!”

“Wait- Tails? Who is Tails?”

Sonic looked around him and lifted up the still unconscious fox from the dirt. He poked him with a finger. “Tails, please! Please wake up! Come on!” He lightly shook his hand.

“Sonic. Give him to me.” Maddie said.

“O-okay. Alright.” Sonic stammered. He gently placed the fox on the ground in front of her. God, he was really banged up. “Please, Maddie! He has to be alr-AH!” Sharp pain stuck into his shoulder. He put a hand over it and looked at what had hit him. Sleeping darts. Hundreds of them. Heavy duty ones too.

“Sonic?” Tom called out in worry.

“Wait! No…. I have… to…” A drowsiness came over him almost instantly and he struggled to keep his eyes open. “No… Tails…” He crashed onto the ground with a shaking thud, his hand falling into the altar beside him. Just after, various men across the crowed had drawn out guns they had kept hidden in the wedding ceremony.

“What the hell?!” Tom cursed.

“Randal, why do all your friends have guns?” Rachel said.

“It’s okay everyone, we’re federal agents.” Said a man holding up a badge. He turned to Tom and Maddie. “You really should have brought me up on that brunch Mister and Misses Wachowski.”

Tom squinted his eyes. “Olive Garden guy?”

“Correct. Though you may call me by my credentials. My name is Commander Walters, and as a federal agent, I’m calling jurisdiction on this site. We knew you still had the hedgehog in custody, Wachowski, but we knew you would never hand him over willingly. So we decided to create ‘operation catfish’.”

“Operation catfish?!” Rachel shouted. “You mean to tell me, that this ENTIRE WEDDING was a SET UP?!”

“Rachel, please. Listen to me.” Randal calmly said.

“IM DONE LISTENING!” Before she could do anything, she was held back by two men.

“I’m so sorry.” Randal said sombrely.

“Hey wait!” Tom shouted as he ran towards the army men who began to pin sonic down with rope, lots of it. “STOP IT! LET HIM GO!” He punched one of them in the face before two more pinned him to the ground. “GET OFF OF ME!”

“What are you doing?!” Maddie exclaimed. “Sonic isn’t a threat! He’s on our side!”

“He’s an uncontrolled extraterrestrial, and right now he is over 15 meters because of some ‘emerald’. He is more of a threat now than he has ever been!” He turned to the men, who now had Sonic, Tom, and the unconscious Tails in their custody. “Secure them here until the copper arrives.”

The rest of the men shooed everyone else away from the scene. Even Maddie and Rachel, who now had to figure out how to save the three of them.

[youaremysunshine-court]

please elaborate I'm so curious about this

Wow this is so late! I've been looking at this ask for weeks and wanting to reply, but I finally have the time now!

(apologies in advance if you dont know anything about bnha) (but thanks for this opportunity bc idk if ill ever write the fic)

so, way back in the day, endeavour is running around as a starter hero, and one day while hes stomping about, he runs into a civilian. instead of stuttering or shying away, she stands up to her full height of 5 foot nothing, puts her hands on her hips and yells him into apologising to her.

endeavour is, of course, immediately enamored. he lurks around her workplace when hes off duty, and nearly messes up an operation because she passes by and waves at him in the middle.

so of course hes crushed when he asks her out and she turns him down immediately. deciding to try the 'good guy' route, he backs off completely, only for her to march up to him a few weeks later and yell at him for not pursuing her.

so he takes her out for coffee, and they soon have standing dates that are only interrupted by the most urgent of hero business. but endeavours rank is increasing, and the strict morals of the country stop him from running around with a woman hes not married to.

its around this time he gets the idea into his head that he needs to make the greatest hero ever. but this lady (who hes pretty sure is the love of his life) doesnt have a complementary quirk to his. after all, how is the ability to self moisturise going to help his potential hero offspring.

of course, he doesnt tell her any of this because he doesnt exactly need the world to see him beaten into the ground by a civilian, but he does start to search more aggresively for a more suitable bride.

he finds a lady with the ability to produce ice at will, and starts the marriage negotiations with her family. he doesnt like her much, but of course, no one will ever match his personality the way mitsuki does.

he tries to break things off with her as gently as possible, but she sees right through him, which is unfortunate, and also why he bears a steak-knife-shaped scar on his right hand. she storms out of the restaurant in the way that means shes holding back tears, and endeavour has never felt more like a piece of shit.

not enough to call his marriage to rei off though. they get married, and endeavour gets increasingly frustrated when each attempt at the perfect hero comes out worse than the last. when shouto is finally born, endeavour near runs to the closest temple to take a vow of celibacy - if he never has to sleep with rei again it will be too soon.

he sees mitsuki once soon after shoutos birth; a drunken mistake that she assures him they will not repeat. shes engaged to a nice man, she tells him, following along the lines of the flames above his face, a little boring but kind to her. endeavour thinks shes going to have a duller life than him, and hes bored to tears.

16 years later, he's stomping through the grounds at UA, watching his 16 year old son get his ass beat at the sports festival by a little blond goblin whos kicking and screaming and biting, and endeavour has never felt so much anger in his life.

it only gets worse when he goes up to aizawa after to inquire about the brats origins, only to have aizawa quirk a smile at him and say, half sardonically, 'i thought you would recognise bakugo mitsuki's' son.

thats when the seed of suspicion is planted. it's when shouto starts questioning the origin of quirks, that endeavour decides to pull mitsukis files and figure out what a her quirk really is. because how could ms vaseline produce wannabe hero dynamight.

he kicks himself when he sees the uses of glycerine in the industry. even if they hadnt had a child who could shoot ice from his fingertips, combined, their kid would have been the most powerful fire quirk user alive. then, curious, he pulls masarus files.

its then that he really begins to suspect mitsukis been lying to the world for 16 years. sure, its not unbelievable that the blond brat could have got his quirk from masaru and mitsuki, but it does sseem more likely that he can produce fire on will because of a relation to endeavour.

he doesnt confront mitsuki about it; what good would it do. he doesnt say anything to anyone else either, just kicks himself repeatedly for not keeping the one good thing in his life when he had it.

and thats what i have so far in the way of conspiracy theories about bakugous birth.

TLDR: bakugou is secretly mitsukis and endeavours kid but no one but mitsuki knows

thanks for letting me rant about this massive hc i have that has altered how i look at the bnha verse!! hope you enjoyed ♡

[hausofmamadas]

NUGGETS OF BENJAMAYO | aka just gif dump of my madness about 1 measly scene

✴︎

For Narcoctober's Day of Visuals - Oct 6th 5th (posted on the 6th cause I generally suck and my life is a mess) leftover from Day 1's fic

Okayokayokay so I made so many extra gifs for my Benjamayo fanfic that were theoretically set aside days ago for the Narcoctober Day of Visuals (I know that much like “fetch” Benjamayo is not a thing but much like the legendary Toaster Strudel heiress, Gretchen Weiners, I am very much trying to make it happen) and legit thought the prompt was Oct 6, not Oct 5 but I already have an amnesty day post technically I haven’t gone to sleep yet …? So technically yesterday is still today regardless of the date...? and I can’t not share these bc LET ME DO TELL YOU, I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS INTERACTION FOR LITERAL YEARS NOW so without furtherado

The scene in question: Benjamin schmoozing at Dina’s wedding, shaking babies and kissing hands, spots Mayo and decides, fuck it- he’s in a good mood! Little social butterfly, precioso is feelin’ himself. It’s a wedding, love is in the air! Why not take a moment to go flirt chat with Mazatlan’s very own Camarón King of actual sex Not Giving A Fuck About Anything Pretty Much Ever, Ismael El Mayo Zambada and this is how it starts off. First, Mayo asks the waiter?/waitress? if the shrimp in the shrimp cocktail is fresh but manages to pose it in the most sexy way, it’s actually borderline disturbing just how fucking hot this man is asking about fucking shrimp of all fucking things then again, passion in one’s professional pursuits is pretty hot …? But like no, I really don’t think that’s what’s happening here

Then Mín, little pep in his step, La Reina del Baile, glowing even more than the bride herself, strolls up and basically is like, “Bish, that’s a spiffy new hat. You buy that with the money you made movin’ shit through my plaza? cause there’s more where that came from if you’re interested in a sugar daddy🤭”

At which point Mayo is lowkey like🫣 oh god, what do I say now. Is he trying to strong arm me, what’s the angle. I really don’t wanna start shit rn, I’m so full of shrimp, like ngl I don’t even think I could run away without making myself sick and he tries to keep things simpatico but like the extra mile he goes??? This sly mf is smiling at Mín in a way that resembles a little too closely how he smiled at the waiter/waitress. And sure, maybe we can chalk that up to just Mayo a ho. He a May-ho sry, I just– you know I set myself up to spike that ball and I couldn’t not no matter how bad it was sksksksks and Mín rolls with it, he does one of those blind-and-miss-it thousand yard stares which I will devote an entire gif set post to later bc he does it more than once throughout the show and it’s actually devastating and shoots his shot, “pero imagínate que no tuvieras qué”

So anyway, this establishes what? Mayo a May-ho, right. And Mín is lowkey liiiiiiiiiiiiving for this shit bc he thinks he’s got an in. And do you know what tf this savvy, spritely little Drug Lord Dilf-Nymph of Tijuana does????????? something Miguel would never dream of doing in a million years, not just bc he’s homophobic asf and deeply insecure about his entire general essence as a human being, but he doesn’t have a fucking f r a c t i o n of the affable, boyish charm that Mín does HE FUCKING FLIRTS RIGHT BACK. TAKE ONE GOOD GOTDAMN LOOK AT THE GIFS BELOW AND TELL ME HES NOT FLIRTING. YOU DONT FULL-BODY SCAN SOMEONE UP AND DOWN LIKE THEYRE THE FUCKING THANKSGIVING TURKEY AND YOU HAVENT EATEN IN DAYS UNLESS YOU’RE SEXING THEM IN YOUR MINDDKSSKSJWB I MEAMaaaan–

BUT DSKWJWJWIEIWJWJSB THE BEST FUCKING PART ABOUT THIS ENTIRE THING?????????? MAYO IS SO DOWN FOR IT. THE SHIT-EATING GRIN HE GETS ON HIS FACE LIKE MANS IS SO GODDAMN FLATTERED, MANS IS SO ABOUT IT, HES LITERALLY THAT GIRL DAFFYDUCK GIF, ALL BATTING HIS EYELASHES AND UNDRESSING SEDUCTIVELY, OKAY LIKE

WHERE IS THE LIE Spoiler alert: IT’S NOWHERE, THERE IS ONLY TRUTH OKAY and then Mayo does this real cute thing all appealing to the control freak in Mín, saying he likes to be his own boss, “no más que tú sabes” and all that AND THEN, AAAAAAND THEEEEEENNNNNNN FOLKS HE JUST. KEEPS. ON. MF. GRINNING. AS IF HE COULD GRAB MIN BY THE TINY LAPELS OF HIS TINY SUIT AND PLANT A BIG WET ONE RIGHT THERE ON HIM, RIGHT ON THE DANCEFLOOR IN FROMT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLELWKWJW W

and then he has to scramble for something else to say bc he knows good goddamn well that they've been making eyes at each other for far, far too long, so he's like "ohshitohshitohshit ohhhhh look there's Azul, the closest boner killer within reach besides Rayo hey, you know where home is!!!!!" AND THEN MIN, FUCJINGAKSJFNLKQJWELKJN DOES THIS WAY-TOO-INTIMATE HEAD NOD AND SMIRK, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR COMING TO MY PARTY ERM IMEAN DINA'S WEDDING, IF YOU'RE EVER IN TOWN GIRL CALL ME

NO BUT EVERYONE LITERALLY SHUT UP AND SITDOWN ALL FIVE OF YOU BCTTHENNNNSI;RAJQPO23IJRPOQJIWEFOH THE WAY MAYO SAYS CLARO, AND IT'S THE EXACT WAY I WOULD IMAGINE LIKE HOW HE'D GOODBYE LOVE PAT A ONE NIGHT STAND ON THE SHOULDER AS HE'S OPENING HIS FRONT DOOR FOR THEM TO LEAVE ???????? IDK IDKIDKIDKDA;WOJEF;AOIJ AND THEN THE LITTLE PRIVATE LOOK OF LIKE "idk what the fuck that was but I'm- y'know i really didn't hate it......"

it just- i mean i'm sure we're all in agreement that i'm insane but like what other conclusions am i supposed to draw in the face of this raw, objective evidence

☇

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord, @narcolini, @ashlingnarcos, @drabbles-mc